The group finally reaches a ute

Hai Vor (name changed) left his Yangon home at 3am one day in February 2025. Hurried into a car, he left the background rumble of troop transports, occasional cracks of gunshots and sleepless nights. Like many men – especially those aged 35 and under – Hai Vor’s escape was driven by the fear of being drafted to fight in the civil war. Hai Vor himself was older than the call-up age, but as an older sibling to a draft-evader, the fear of arrest came to have a vise-like grip over all other family members. The military was rumoured to be conducting house raids in the dead of night to arrest draft evaders, perhaps even those harbouring them or helping them escape. Nobody knew who would be next.

Hai Vor was not just leaving behind a tense political situation, but also the comforts of family life: his three children aged nine to 14, as well as his wife. He also left behind several successful businesses – two private school canteens and a fast food business – which his wife currently oversees.

Hai Vor has worked in Singapore previously, and the city-state is his ultimate destination again. But, whereas it was an ordinary journey then to find work, this time, it’s risk, adrenalin, cut-throat payments and hardship every step of the way.

Leaving Yangon, Hai Vor was accompanied by his younger brother – the same one who was below 35 and eligible for the military draft – as well as their niece and nephew, aged 18 and 19 respectively. Escape was expensive, and each person was allowed to have just a single backpack. Hai Vor’s father paid 45 lakh (4,500,000 Myanmar kyats, approximately $2,900) per person for safe transport from Yangon to Myawaddy, a city four-fifths the way to the Thai border. The 400-kilometre journey would bring the group through a melange of territories held by various National Unity Government (NUG)-linked entities, which vaguely and uneasily interfaced with ground held by the Karen National Army (KNA). The truck passed through numerous military checkpoints smoothly and relatively unhindered. Perhaps sentries had been greased beforehand. It was the topography that was the greater challenge. Getting through mountain passes occasionally required the passengers to disembark and push the vehicle. Fortunately, the journey was without incident and six hours later, Hai Vor and his family members checked into a hotel in Myawaddy.

Myawaddy was where Hai Vor had to ask around to secure transport across the border into Thailand. In a compound not far from a KNA base, Hai Vor, alone, met with a general from the Democratic Karen Buddhist Army (DKBA-5). The fee to cross the border was 20 lakh (approx. $1,290) per person. No negotiation. Payment had to be made upfront in cash.

Surviving on biscuits

Two days later, Hai Vor and his family members join other escapees on board a Toyota Hilux, leaving Myawaddy with an accompanying truck of DKBA-5 soldiers armed with rifles. Phones switched off (it’s an order!), and the most arduous part of the journey begins.

Over the next six days, sustenance is just water and biscuits, and sleep means the cold, damp ground of the forest floor. Days are spent walking for hours on end, punctuated by the occasional motorcycle ride where dirt tracks exist. Along the way, subgroups of escapee-clients split off onto various routes through the vast jungle, and guides hand over their clients from area to area. At all times, Hai Vor and his family are escorted by two guides, rifles slung over their shoulders. Occasionally, the crack of gunshots rings out through the forest and the group scuttles to hide amongst the rocks for cover – a reminder that however green and tranquil the forest, they are nonetheless treading through a war zone.

The Moei River marks the boundary between Myanmar and Thailand. Crossing it is treacherous. In waist deep water, the group links hands, carefully feel the stones and mud underfoot, and very slowly make their way across the murky brown channel. Every few metres, the guide signals for the group to stop while he prods the river bed for the safest path through the fast-flowing waters.

Sixty meters across, they are safe. Now on the Thai side of the river, the group is transferred again – this time to a party of four Thai guides. They may have left the war zone, but the guides are nonetheless armed with handguns. And ahead is more jungle.

The group hikes on. Hai Vor learns that they’re going through Khlong Wang Chao National Park. Despite being soaked from the river crossing, chilled by the night air in the mountainous region and sleepless, Hai Vor counts himself lucky. Whilst some groups are hastily rushed through the forest without opportunity for rest, Hai Vor’s guides are more accommodating towards their need for frequent breaks. Dinner, though, is still biscuits.

Saraburi to Bangkok

From the fringes of the National Park, passage is to Saraburi, a town down on the plains, less than 100km from Bangkok. The charge for transportation by pick-up truck is 12,000 Thai Baht per person (approx $474). Burmese and Thai are distinct languages, but thankfully Hai Vor’s niece speaks some Thai, which is useful – at least they can negotiate their way and know where they are going. Even so, the journey is not uneventful; the vehicle gets into an accident. One passenger sustains a facial injury. Hai Vor himself describes a lingering soreness from the sudden bump.

All things considered, it’s been more or less a success. They get to a farm near Saraburi where they can rest and recover in safety.

One last leg to go: from Saraburi to Bangkok, where Hai Vor has a cousin. We’re not sure why, but this leg of the journey has to be made at 2am. Anxieties have shifted. From the initial fear of arrest to the arduous and nerve-wracking escape, Hai Vor and his family members now face another challenge: documentation. The group has no documents to prove their entry into Thailand, and staying requires a 90-day visa. Fortunately, there are many in the Burmese community in Thailand who can help resolve that issue. All it takes, they advise, is 25,000 baht ($987) per person.

In Singapore

Hai Vor’s first time in Singapore was in 2011, when he worked as a supervisor in the 7-11 franchise for three years. He described those days as good – work was in eight-hour shifts and overtime was fairly paid. He then went back to Myanmar and became an entrepreneur, opening several food outlets.

However, memories of halcyon days don’t help with the looming uncertainties ahead.

In Bangkok, he asks around for connections that may lead to employment in Singapore. The process is frustrating, fraught with unscrupulous agents and exorbitant fees. It eventually cost him $10,000, but at least he finds a Burmese agent who is willing to connect him to work opportunities in Singapore. In the meantime, and to come up with this money, Hai Vor had to work three jobs in Bangkok over the following three months.

The job he gets in Singapore is at a coffee stall. With little alternative, Hai Vor accepts it and arrives at Changi airport in May 2025. The erstwhile businessman is now a kitchen helper.

He describes long hours of cleaning and washing – but he doesn’t mind working for twelve hours a day. The work is necessary to finance his niece, nephew and brother’s work passes to enter Singapore. In early August, things start to look brighter as his younger brother succeeds in getting a job here – the brother is now a delivery driver.

Then crash, bang, and everything falls apart for Hai Vor himself. After barely six months. Haivor has been terminated by his boss, and he fears being sent back to likely arrest.

Not only does it feel terribly unjust, it raises important questions about how our migrant labour system and private employers respond to humanitarian dilemmas. His excruciating labours to leave a war-torn country and shield his family members from uncertain fate in the military draft, are all undone by an employer’s decision to terminate employment and the government’s requirement that he be repatriated. Yes, on paper, he can look for another job but only if the previous employer or the government grants him permission to do so. In any case, success in finding another job is far from assured.

In international law, the principle of non-refoulement dictates that individuals cannot be returned to a country where they face a real risk either of persecution and human rights violations, or where there is ongoing conflict. It seems obviously problematic that under our foreign worker regulations, employers, who may not be inclined to empathise with the circumstances of foreign workers, are in a position to make decisions that bring disgrace to Singapore internationally.

Too often, we see foreign labour only through the lens of economic value – dollars and cents. At the crux of many workers’ frustrations is the belief that employers are insensitive to the personal circumstances of workers. For Hai Vor and many Burmese workers like him, working here is not just about sending money home. It is also about safety – wrongful arrest or being sent to the frontlines to fight for an unpopular regime, and be killed or maimed.

How can we remain apathetic?

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