Amin believes it was about a month before they reached Malaysian waters.
It was the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic and Malaysia had closed and sealed its borders, but people smugglers hoped the virus would disappear quickly and border control would be relaxed, Amin said.
They waited. Floating aimlessly in the water as the weeks passed, the food became an increasing source of torment for the refugees on board.
To begin with, they had eaten rice and stale pastries that they washed down with instant coffee made with bottled water, and the smugglers had also brought sacks of onions that they sometimes ate. But no one had foreseen weeks of delay. Rations decreased. “After two months, it was very difficult,” Amin said.
The refugees had put up a tarp to protect themselves from the sun and, when it rained, they tried to collect the water accumulated there and channel it into the empty bottles. But it was never enough.
“Near the end, the human traffickers fed us a handful of rice a day and half a glass of water. We were very hungry and thirsty all the time,” Amin said.
Conditions were so harsh that Amin estimates that “perhaps 100 people” died.
He told Al Jazeera that an elderly man he had seen begging for water from smugglers died two hours after his request was denied. A small child, perhaps two or three years old, died the same way, Amin said, after crying out for water for several hours.
The bodies of the dead were thrown overboard; They were stripped naked before entering the sea. Like food and water, clothing was considered a precious commodity: refugees were only allowed to bring what they were wearing.
“We were crying a lot on that boat,” Amin said. “We were like skeletons.”
Amin said there were perhaps six or seven human traffickers on board and they were armed with clubs and guns. “The sailors were unfaithful [non-Muslims]”said Amin. “Some had come from Myanmar and others from Bangladesh but they told us that they had been at sea doing that work for many years. [people smuggling]. “They said their people smuggling journey had lasted a long time.”
We were crying a lot on that boat.
According to Amin and Mohammed Ullah, another young Rohingya he met during the trip, the smugglers used their weapons to intimidate the refugees and force them to ask for more money from their families in Bangladesh and Myanmar.
“Sometimes they beat us and told us to call our parents to transfer more money. We paid 5,000 Malaysian ringgit [$1,211] and after a few months at sea on the big ship, the smugglers asked for 5,000 Malaysian ringgit more,” Amin said.
In early June 2020, smugglers decided to make another attempt to reach Malaysia, hoping that pandemic restrictions had been lifted.
But the situation had worsened.
“There were Malaysian helicopters flying overhead,” Amin recalled. “The smugglers said, 'We're not taking you to Malaysia. Go now, we don't care.'”
Amin says it was at that point that the smugglers decided to split up the group, betting that a smaller number of people would have a better chance of reaching land.
The refugees were packed into four boats, each with a smuggler. Two of them headed to the resort island of Langkawi in Malaysia and two to the coast of Aceh in Indonesia: one was a larger and slower boat and the others smaller and faster.
On June 8, the Malaysian coast guard announced it had detained 269 refugees off the coast of Langkawi after their boat's engine failed. Fifty Rohingya, desperate to reach dry land, jumped into the water and swam to shore.
Four days later, the Malaysian coast guard turned back Amin and Ullah's boat.
The two men say they were then left adrift in the waters between Malaysia and Indonesia when their scarce supplies of food and water finally ran out. They were unaware that one of the other boats, carrying almost 100 refugees, had arrived in the Indonesian province of Aceh on June 24. After so much time at sea, some could barely walk. Everyone was desperately hungry and thirsty. Even now no one knows what happened to the fourth ship.
Al Jazeera was unable to locate the smugglers to speak to them about Amin and Ullah's experience at sea. The two refugees' accounts echo the experiences of others who have made the journey.
It was not until September that Amin's boat was finally spotted by local fishermen, not far from the coastal town of Lhokseumawe.
Indonesian authorities allowed them to land and even provided some assistance to the Rohingya.
They were taken to a complex of basic concrete buildings, with communal showers and toilets and the air of a military barracks, just a 10-minute drive from the coast.
It was by no means luxurious, but it was solid, safe land.
“I was very happy to have landed in Aceh,” Amin recalled of his arrival. “Just like everyone else who was in the same boat.”
