From: s0k5099@zeus.tamu.edu (KHAN, SHAHRIAR)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.bangladesh
Subject: '71. The Turbulent Years. Concentration Camp. Zia Assassination.
Date: 9 Apr 92 03:44:00 GMT
Organization: Texas A&M University, Academic Computing Services
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

'71. The Turbulent Years. Life in a Concentration Camp. The Zia Assassination.

Press "n" if not interested.

>>....... That 
>>afternoon, he returned late from his office, appearing somewhat dishevelled 
>>and agitated, with a sentry pointing a gun at him from behind. We were asked 
>>to pack all our belongings in one hour, and then taken by truck to an unknown 
>>destination. (Looking back, it seems fortunate that we were not taken to some 
>>deserted place and shot). Thus we came to the concentration camp which would 
>>be our home, with other Bengalis, for the next one year. 
>>Shahriar Khan

Abdur Rais writes: 
>Would you provide more details? In particular, how many people were in that
>camp? How many similar camps were in Pakistan at that time? In what ways were
>people free? And, not free? Any major violations of human rights?  Anything
>that stands out in your memory?  A whole year in such a camp seems like a very
>long time time to me.

	From my sketchy memories, the camp must have been big enough to contain 
10-20 football fields. There were about 16 flats. Each flat was 4 storied 
containing about 16 two bedroom apartments. Commissioned officers lived 1 family 
to an apartment while non-commissioned officers lived 2 families to one. Each 
apartment had only one shower, one kitchen, and one gas burner. Needless to 
say, there were frequent conflicts between families who had to share the 
Spartan accomodations of these apartments. 

	Of greatest interest to the children of the camp was a huge, 
perennially dry ditch surrounding the camp. It was so wide that we were never 
able to throw a stone from our side to the other. Until today, I have not seen 
anything resembling it even remotely. It also served as a natural deterrent to 
anyone trying to escape. Initially, it was completely overgrown with dense 
forests. But parts of it were cleared into cricket and football fields by us 
enthusiastic school-children under the guidance of our teachers. The remaining 
forested areas inspired tales of ghosts by many who acted convinced that they 
had seen strange apparitions walking around there. There was a golf course 
just across this ditch. Some children sometimes found golf balls, or even golf 
clubs lying around. 

	Until only a few years ago I was able to stay in touch many of  
the friends who had helped transform a concentration camp into a source of
happy and carefree memories. Some of them are now officers in the Bangladesh 
forces. Incredibly, one came to the U.S. and married a girl from ... Pakistan.
The last I heard about my closest friend, (Obaidur Rahman Raju, Applied Physics
Dhaka University) is that he is somewhere in Sweden.

Zunaid Kazi writes: 
>We were totally housebound during that period (in Dhaka). We couldn't leave 
>the house, let alone the cantonment. [For the curious, we lived at what is now 
>Shahid Aziz Polli]..    

	Aziz Palli is just a stone's throw from the late president Zia (and
now Khaleda Zia's residence). Back in 1982, we lived in the the same area 
ourselves. The house we stayed in was previously occupied by a Brigadier who 
had been dismissed from the army for allegedly being too outpoken with the 
recently ousted leader of our country. One officer who lived in this area was 
tried and hanged for alleged involvement in the Zia assassination.   

> I remember he (my father) was always
>escorted by armed guards to and fro the Army HQ. (Zunaid)

	In West Pakistan, Bengali officers in uniform were in the strange 
situation of having to attend office under armed guard. The very soldiers who 
were previously under their command, were now giving instructions to their 
superiors at gunpoint.  

>I had an uncle living with us at that time. He later escaped and joined 
>the Mukti Bahini. 
>--Zunaid
 	
	Many Bengalis, apprehensive of the increasingly tense situation, and 
the reports of Bengalis being killed in Bangladesh, took the extremely bold
step of escaping from Pakistan into India. I remember one evening when we went 
to visit Toyebuddin Ahmed and his family, their servants told us that they 
were not living there anymore. (They had actually left West Pakistan in secret. 
This contradicts a previous claim on the net that Mr. Ahmed was loyal to 
Pakistan).  He later went on to become the Inspector General of Police of 
Bangladesh). Two of his sons are now in the U.S.

	Officers were sometimes allowed to leave the camp, though not with 
their whole family. In our case, it was usually my kid brother who was left 
behind every time we left the camp. In other cases, it would be my my mother and
I leaving the camp together. My mother answered my nagging questions about the 
extremely uncomfortable military transportation with, "because we are 
prisoners." 

	I remember the time the camp commander made the unusually generous 
move of allowing our whole family to leave the camp at once. We used this 
opportunity to roam freely in Karachi by baby-taxi, visiting old Pakistani 
friends. Our car had long since been sold, and the rest of our valuable 
possesions had  been given for safekeeping (and to be sold, if possible) to my 
father's ex-commanding officer, a person by the name of Captain(?) Herekar. 
Although Cpt. Herekar was a member of the very armed forces which had sent us 
to the camp, my father always expressed how Cpt. Herekar would not betray our 
family and the years my father had worked under him in a naval hospital. 
His son, at that time, used to play some musical instruments and once, made 
me play the drums according to his instructions while he played another 
instrument. Many other officers, who were relatively junior at that time, are 
now generals in the Pakistani armed forces. About 2 years ago, while on a 
state visit to Bangladesh, one such general was kind enough to remember my 
father and send a small gift to him.

	Finally, the war was over and the time came for us to be repatriated to 
a free Bangladesh. There would be no luggage and all our belongings were 
to be carried in one hand-carried bag to a person. The officers were strictly 
ordered not to take back any documents of their identity, or service in the 
Navy. Once we returned to Bangladesh, our government solved this problem by 
privately asking each officer about his past service. The statements of the 
officers about themselves and each other were compared, and based on this, they 
were reappointed to the same rank in the new Bangladesh Navy.   	

	There were two senior Bengali naval officers, Captains (?) M.H. Khan, 
and Nurul Haq, who were allowed the privilege of living under armed guard 
outside the concentration camp. At the end of the war, just before we were 
repatriated, the question arose as to who would be the C.N.S. (Commander of 
the Bangladeshi Navy) after repatriation. It turned out that Sheikh Mujib 
appointed M.H. Khan as C.N.S. with a corresponding promotion to Rear Admiral. 
Nurul Huq was appointed as Minister of the Inland Water Transportation 
Authority (?). M.H. Khan was replaced after many years by Rear-admiral 
Mahboob Ali Khan who died of a heart attack in '86 (?).    

	Sheikh Mujib gave 2 years of seniority to all military officers who
were in Bangladesh or India during the war (muktijodhyas). The effects of this 
division into muktijodhyas and non-muktijodhyas lasted for many years after
the war. The assassination of Zia (a muktijodhya himself) was masterminded by 
another muktijodhya, Major General Manzoor, General Officer Commanding of the
infantry division in Chittagong. Manzoor felt that President Zia had been 
neglecting the Muktijodhyas and his assassination of Zia was followed by 
a call to other Muktijodhyas in the armed forces to rise and support him. 
He did not, however, get the desired response from them. Shortly after the 
assassination, Ershad (a non-muktijodhya), under the weak presidency of Abdus
Sattar, weeded out all the remaining mukti-jodhyas and the potential threat 
they presented to him. 19 officers were executed, (including the one who 
lived next door to us) for alleged involvement in the attempted coup. If 
Ershad was indeed involved in the Zia assassination, he paid a very high price 
for it by executing all of his closest allies. The last senior muktijodhya, 
General Abdur Rahman, was sent abroad as an ambassador/high commisioner. Some 
months later, it was quietly reported in the Bangladeshi papers that Abdur 
Rahman had died of a heart attack. 

(these are all based on my personal memories, and may contain errors)	

Shahriar Khan
Texas A&M University

Xref: sparky soc.culture.bangladesh:2488 soc.culture.pakistan:6627 soc.culture.indian:14620