Teacher dies saving students from Bangladesh jet crash inferno
Maherin Chowdhury, a 46-year-old English teacher, went back again and again into a burning classroom to rescue her students on Monday when a F-7 BGI Bangladesh Air Force crashed into the school, trapping them in fire and debris.
Even as her own clothes were engulfed in flames, she continued, her brother, Munaf Mojib Chowdhury, told the Reuters news agency by telephone.
Ms Chowdhury died on Monday after suffering near-total burns to her body.
She is survived by her husband and two teenage sons.
"When her husband called her, pleading with her to leave the scene and think of her children, she refused, saying, 'They are also my children. They are burning. How can I leave them?'" Mr Chowdhury said.
At least 29 people, most of them children, were killed in the incident.
The military said the aircraft suffered mechanical failure.
He added that he found out about his sister's act of bravery when he visited the hospital and met students she rescued.
The jet had taken off from a nearby air base on a routine training mission, the military said.
After experiencing mechanical failure, the pilot tried to divert the aircraft away from populated areas, but it crashed into the campus.
The pilot was among those killed.
"When the plane crashed and fire broke out, everyone was running to save their lives. She [Ms Chowdhury] ran to save others," Khadija Akter, the headmistress of the school's primary section, told Reuters.
She was buried on Tuesday in her home district of Nilphamari, in northern Bangladesh.
Students from the school and others from nearby colleges protested as two government officials visited the crash site. The students demanded an accurate death toll and shouted: "Why did our brothers die? We demand answers!"
Elsewhere in the capital, hundreds of protesting students, some of them waving sticks, broke through the main gate of the federal government secretariat, demanding the resignation of the education adviser, according to local TV footage.
Witnesses said police with batons charged towards them, fired tear gas and used sound grenades to disperse the crowd, leaving dozens injured.
Dhaka Metropolitan Police Deputy Commissioner Talebur Rahman said the officers had to use tear gas to disperse the protesters.
He said he did not have information about the number of injured.
The protesting students called for those killed and injured to be named, the decommissioning of what they said were old and risky jets, and a change in air force training procedures.
A statement from the press office of Bangladesh's interim administrator said the government, the military, school and hospital authorities were working together to publish a list of victims.
It also said the air force would be told not to operate training aircraft in populated areas.
The F-7 BGI is the final and most advanced variant in China's Chengdu J-7/F-7 aircraft family, according to Jane's Information Group, an open-source intelligence company.
Bangladesh signed a contract for 16 aircraft in 2011 and deliveries were completed by 2013.
The Chengdu F-7 is the licence-built version of the Soviet era MiG-21.
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ABC News
8 minutes ago
- ABC News
Japan's last World War II survivors are still fighting for recognition and an apology
With the might of the United States military bearing down on the Japanese island of Okinawa, Kohsei Kyan's mum fled deep into the jungle for safety. It was April 1945 and the Japanese empire was in its dying months, as the Americans secured victory after victory. Rather than surrender, Japan's armed forces were ordered to fight to the very last man. Mr Kyan's mother and her four children sought refuge in one of the island's many caves, where soldiers and civilians alike were sheltering. But instead of protection, she was offered a cruel choice: a Japanese soldier, pointing his gun at the family, ordered the two youngest children outside, fearing they would cry and attract attention. Mr Kyan, then aged six, and his younger brother, aged four, were left inside the cave as his mum took his younger brother and baby sister outside. "The three-year-old realised what had happened," Mr Kyan recalls. "He cried and chased after her, calling, 'Mummy, mummy.' My mother carried my younger brother again and took him to a distant place." Mr Kyan never saw his siblings again. To this day he wonders if they were left to perish from the elements, be killed by artillery fire, or if they were thrown off a cliff like many others. "Even after the war ended, I couldn't bring myself to ask her," he says. "Ten years after the war, my mother died at the age of 39. She cried every night: 'I am sorry, Yoko. Yukio-chan, I am sorry.'" The Battle for Okinawa is infamously one of the most brutal of World War II with up to 150,000 civilians killed, almost a third of the population. Japan, at this stage, had lost the war, it was just a matter of when. But the imperial government and military dug in their heels, hoping to exhaust the Americans and secure more favourable peace terms. Civilians, it seems, were expendable. Suffering reached hellish levels. Tokyo was firebombed and central Hiroshima and Nagasaki were obliterated with the world's first nuclear weapons. Many survivors old enough to remember the final year of the war believe Japan should have surrendered sooner. If it had, much pain and anguish would have been spared. "American soldiers were an angel, Japanese soldiers were the demon," says Mr Kyan. Now, 80 years since the end of World War II, some of Japan's last survivors have told Foreign Correspondent they are demanding recognition, an apology and even compensation. It's a desperate plea. There's not much time left. 159 days until surrender By early 1945, the US had destroyed Japan's Pacific holdings and could freely bomb its home islands. Until then, bombing raids had strictly targeted military structures, but it was expensive and had failed to get results. So, late one Friday in March 1945, the US launched the most destructive firebombing campaign in human history, targeting Tokyo suburbs where factory workers lived. The idea was to demoralise the industrial base. The result was so much more. "The Great Tokyo Air Raid was the largest and most intense firebombing raid in history," says American academic turned-Tokyo-local, Mordecai Sheftall. Nobuaki Muraoka was just 13 when swathes of his city was turned to ash. Within moments of the bombs dropping, he realised this strike was unlike all the others. "A man was walking [in front of our house] and he was hit by a bomb," he recalls. "It was a phosphorus incendiary bomb, so magnesium sprayed out. He couldn't run away." The man flailed as he burned alive. "This is called a 'death dance,'" Mr Muraoka says. "It was the beginning of hell." The young boy and his family ran to a nearby park that was miraculously spared from the bombing. Scores of his neighbours who were stuck outside burned. By daybreak, the carnage was clear. "There was no more human dignity, no more pride, no more anything," he says. "All I saw were blackened charred corpses." 136 days until surrender The firebombing was designed to weaken the Japanese war machine, but it was not enough to secure a surrender. For months, the Americans had been planning a massive D-Day type operation against mainland Japan. But to do that it needed a launching base closer to the target. On a calm Sunday morning, the Battle of Okinawa began. Kamikaze pilots flew their aircraft into American warships, throwing away their lives in a desperate bid to push back the invaders. "They were the 1945 Japanese equivalent of rock stars," says Professor Sheftall. "The kamikaze tactic of simply pointing your airplane at your target and flying it into it was something that even a student pilot with only a few hours of stick time could do." When the Americans landed on the beaches, the Japanese weren't there. Instead, they were hiding in the jungles and complex cave systems, using whatever cover they could to launch surprise attacks, forcing the Americans to use flamethrowers and grenades to flush them out. Surrender wasn't an options, even for Okinawan civilians. "I believe that the Japanese military wanted to remove from the civilian imagination the hope and the possibility of surviving the war," says Professor Sheftall. "Once that was gone, the only option left would be, if you're going to die, are you going to die well? Or are you going to die poorly?" Japan also wanted the Americans to believe that no matter the odds, every inch of Japanese territory would result in a bloodbath. It hoped the Americans would realise a ground invasion of the mainland would be too costly and seek an easy peace. Up to 150,000 Okinawan civilians were killed by the time the fighting stopped. Many have never been formally identified. Mr Kyan says he's still furious that the Japanese government not only failed to protect Okinawan civilians, but actively killed them. To date, there has been no apology or compensation. "It makes me so angry," he says. "I think, 'What the hell were you doing? Why did you kill Okinawans instead of doing your duty? You did not help them, you killed them!'" Nine days until surrender In late July 1945, the US gave Japan an ultimatum: surrender or face utter destruction. "The full application of our military power, backed by our resolve, will mean the inevitable and complete destruction of the Japanese armed forces, and just as inevitably, the utter devastation of the Japanese homeland," the statement read. Japan ignored the request. It had no idea what was to come next. On Monday morning, August 6, 1945, the port city of Hiroshima suffered the world's first nuclear attack. Keiko Ogura had just celebrated her eighth birthday. "There was a flash," she remembers. "Everything I was seeing turned to white. No colour at all." Everything within a 1.5-kilometre radius was annihilated. Bodies were turned to ash. For those further out, the suffering was immense, with burns so severe the skin draped off their bodies. "Everywhere, people were dying," Ms Ogura recalls. "I saw a long line of people coming, like ghost or zombie. Skin was peeling off, and swollen faces. They said only 'water', no other words." Then came the effects of radiation. Over the following weeks and months, seemingly healthy people would turn ill and die in slow, agonising fashion. "Spots appeared all over the body," Ms Ogura recalls. "Pink, purple. Then they died all of a sudden. That made us horrified." By the end of the year, some 140,000 people were dead. "The person has to endure rotting like a corpse while they're still alive," says Professor Sheftall. "Unimaginable suffering not only for them, but for their loved ones, who are having to care for them and watch for them slowly dying under those circumstances. It's the worst thing imaginable." Despite the carnage, Japan was still not prepared to surrender. On August 8, the Soviet Union declared war and within hours swept through Japanese positions on the Asian mainland. Suddenly Japan's entire northern half was exposed to invasion. On August 9, the United States dropped the second atomic bomb, destroying the city centre of Nagasaki. Extraordinarily, Japan's war council was still split on whether to surrender, with the army, in particular, egging for a fight on home soil. Its primary concern was to avoid occupation and maintain the position of the emperor; the suffering of its own troops or civilian population was not part of the calculation. "The army were the ones that were really resisting the surrender to the bitter end," Professor Sheftall says. "Believing this bloodletting would finally be enough to get the allies to agree to a conditional surrender where the Japan could avoid occupation." The vote in Japan's war council was a tie, so Emperor Hirohito got the final say. On August 15, his message of surrender was broadcast across Japan. The war was finally over. Japan is a vastly different country to what it once was, with pacifism written into the constitution. But how Japan has grappled with its own past differs greatly from its old Axis ally, Germany. Professor Sheftall says true reflection of the war only began after Emperor Hirohito's death. "I've been here since 1987. People talked about the war, but on a very strictly personal basis," he says. "People didn't ask the big 'why' questions. Why were we in that war? Why did that happen to us? Who was responsible?" When the US occupied Japan, it quickly disbanded the military, but much of the civilian bureaucracy was allowed to continue. Most importantly, the emperor got to stay. Keeping Japan stable — and anti-communist — was the US's top priority, as the Cold War ignited and China fell to Maoist forces. This stability, Professor Sheftall says, dampened scrutiny about the war for decades. To this day, no Japanese government has ever apologised to its own people for the suffering its decisions caused the Japanese people. "If the Japanese were to admit or to declare that that war had been at fault on some moral level, that would impugn the person of the emperor and the institution of the imperial throne," he says. "Even a Japanese politician in 2025, is not quite ready to go there." Soon after the war, Japan moved to compensate the families of deceased soldiers, but civilians received nothing. Those who survived the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, known as hibakusha, led a campaign to change that. In the late 50s, the government agreed to cover some of their medical costs. Over the years, the scheme broadened to cover more medical expenses. But financial compensation proved a thorny issue. The argument against was that all people in Japan suffered for the war effort, and no one special group deserved compensation. "So many people died because of decisions by the Japanese government," Hiroshima survivor Keiko says. "People's agony and desperation shouldn't be ignored." In 1968 and 1981, the hibakusha finally won local and then national financial compensation, becoming eligible for a special pension. However, the government ensured its agreement was strictly due to radiation exposure. Those who endured the hardships of firebombing campaigns or the Battle for Okinawa were left out. All legal action from these survivors failed. Eighty years since World War II ended, the few survivors left know their time is running out. Every Thursday, outside the national parliament, about a dozen survivors and their supporters gather. They hand out leaflets demanding compensation for survivors of the firebombings and Okinawa. Activist Yoshikazu Hamada was seven at the time of the Tokyo firebombing. "War was the most important thing," he recalls. "The emperor was the most important thing. No individuality. It was all about the war." At the protest, Mr Hamada approaches a group of school children and desperately tries to hand them a flyer. Many students in Japan do a field excursion to Hiroshima to learn about the atomic bombing, but the Tokyo firebombing barely gets a mention in the curriculum. The students and their teacher decline his flyer. "I feel that there is a very big problem there," he says. "I really wanted those children to learn that kind of thing. I am worried about what kind of society it will be when those children become adults now. People have become complacent." He wants an apology, but holds out little hope of getting one. "What we want is an apology from the leaders of the government that governs our country," he says. Japan has stated regret for the past war actions, but the last civilian survivors feel their suffering has been ignored. Mr Muraoka is too frail to join the protest. He can only paint his memories hoping the horrors he endured are never forgotten. "I would ask for (an apology) but the government doesn't seem to care," he says. "They have never accepted responsibility." He fears stories like his will be lost once the last survivors are no longer alive. "There is no interest in reflecting on the war. The Japanese government is waiting for all of us to die." Watch Japan's Last WWII Survivors on Foreign Correspondent tonight at 8pm on ABC TV and iview.
ABC News
3 days ago
- ABC News
Firefighters in Indonesia respond to range of calls for help, highlighting service gaps
Read the story in Bahasa Indonesia Wahyu Sinoval was out of options. The year 10 Indonesian student needed someone, anyone, to pick up his report card. In Indonesia, a parent or guardian would normally collect a student's end of year academic report card. But Wahyu's father died in 2023 and his mother doesn't go out anymore due to her Tourette syndrome, a neurological condition which causes involuntary movements and vocalisations, known as tics. Wahyu's aunt became his legal guardian and main caregiver, but could no longer help after suffering a stroke earlier this year. "I already asked my friends' mothers and my neighbour for help, but none of them were available," Wahyu told the ABC. The 16-year-old, who lives in Central Java, made an unconventional decision. "I also once saw on social media that there was a firefighter who was willing to help pick up a student's report card." After doing some research, Wahyu reached out to one of the local firefighters, Ade Bhakti Ariawan, on Instagram, asking him to pick up his report card. Wahyu was surprised to not only receive a reply, but Mr Ariawan also agreed to pick up a report card for his younger brother, Alfian. The local fire department shared the story on Instagram and the act of kindness quickly went viral online, with many praising the firefighter's compassion and humanity. In an interview with local media, Mr Ariawan said firefighters should serve and help people wherever possible. "As long as it's doable, why not?" he said. "It's about humanity." On a different Indonesian island, in South Lampung, firefighter Rully Satrya also received a request to collect a report card for a year 10 student, Meyva Azzahra. "Her father remarried and went away. Her mother is a migrant worker overseas," Mr Satrya told the ABC. "The only family left is her elderly grandmother who can't walk far." Without anyone else who could help, Mr Satrya collected her card. Mr Satrya said although picking up report cards was not part of his job, his team tried to help in cases like this because "compassion matters most". "Some people in the community might ask, 'What happens if a fire breaks out while a firefighter is out collecting a student's report card?' and concerned that our core duties might be neglected," Mr Satrya said. "There's no need to worry as we've carefully considered these situations, and there is always a team on stand-by to carry out our primary responsibilities." Aside from helping school students, other requests to firefighters in Indonesia range from serious to bizarre. Mr Ariawan told local media that his fire department unit was receiving an increasing number of unusual requests. "Just yesterday, someone needed help removing a ring from their genitals," he told Tribun News. Firefighters have also often been called to catch wild animals like snakes, crocodiles, or lizards, in residential areas. But lately, Mr Satrya said the requests have become more "bizarre". "We've been asked to drive out ghosts from homes, fix leaking roofs … you name it," Mr Satrya said. Local media have also reported incidents where residents in Sumatra and East Java have contacted firefighters to assist with banishing what they believed to be ghosts from their homes. In another case this year near Jakarta, a student who had just broken up with her boyfriend asked firefighters to celebrate her birthday with her at the fire station. In Bekasi, 25 kilometres from Jakarta, a woman reported domestic violence to the local fire service out of frustration and desperation because her initial report to police had not been followed up. The next day police arrested the male perpetrator, in a case widely reported on by local media. Last year, in Central Borneo, residents contacted the fire department when a suspected burglary was underway at a local school. The firefighters caught the thief and turned him in. Public policy expert Adinda Tenriangke Muchtar, from The Indonesian Institute, said the public's growing reliance on firefighters for non-emergency tasks highlighted a problem. "There's a communication issue as people don't clearly understand the roles of public service institutions," Dr Muchtar told the ABC. She urged the Indonesian government, media, and public services to better educate citizens on where and when to seek help. Dr Muchtar said the public viewed the fire service as "low-hanging fruit" because they were easy to contact and requests did not involve paperwork or costs. She said the call-outs from students needing help with collecting their report cards showed there was a failure in the social support network. "There should have been concern from community around the children," she said, adding schools should provide alternatives for students in special circumstances. Dr Muchtar said fire services should not feel obligated to respond to all requests. She said fire services should guide people toward appropriate services. "You might say, 'Please contact social services for this matter,' or 'Let us connect you with them and they'll reach out shortly.' That would be much more constructive," she said. "If every public service institution fulfilled its proper role … then over time, people would naturally learn, 'This is what fire departments do, this is the function of social services,' and so on." Dr Muchtar said while some people trusted fire services more than other institutions like the police force, putting too much responsibility on firefighters could mean other services were underused. "This phenomenon should serve as a prompt for institutional evaluation, not merely a celebration of the fire brigade's responsiveness." Wahyu, while thankful for help, understands that collecting report cards is not part of a firefighter's remit. "I know their job is to put out fires and perform rescues," he said. "So next year I'll try to find someone else first again. The fire department will only be my last resort."
News.com.au
7 days ago
- News.com.au
'Absolute madness': Thailand's pet lion problem
Behind a car repair business on a nondescript Thai street are the cherished pets of a rising TikTok animal influencer: two lions and a 200-kilogram lion-tiger hybrid called "Big George." Lion ownership is legal in Thailand, and Tharnuwarht Plengkemratch is an enthusiastic advocate, posting updates on his feline companions to nearly three million followers. "They're playful and affectionate, just like dogs or cats," he told AFP from inside their cage complex at his home in the northern city of Chiang Mai. Thailand's captive lion population has exploded in recent years, with nearly 500 registered in zoos, breeding farms, petting cafes and homes. Experts warn the trend endangers animals and humans, stretches authorities and likely fuels illicit trade domestically and abroad. "It's absolute madness," said Tom Taylor, chief operating officer of conservation group Wildlife Friends Foundation Thailand. "It's terrifying to imagine, if the laws aren't changed, what the situation is going to be in 10 years." The boom is fueled by social media, where owners like Tharnuwarht post light-hearted content and glamour shots with lions. "I wanted to show people... that lions can actually bond well with humans," he said, insisting he plays regularly with his pets. He entered Big George's enclosure tentatively though, spending just a few minutes being batted by the tawny striped liger's hefty paws before retreating behind a fence. Since 2022, Thai law has required owners to register and microchip lions, and inform authorities before moving them. But there are no breeding caps, few enclosure or welfare requirements, and no controls on liger or tigon hybrids. Births of protected native species like tigers must be reported within 24 hours. Lion owners have 60 days. "That is a huge window," said Taylor. "What could be done with a litter of cubs in those 60 days? Anything." - Illicit trade - Taylor and his colleagues have tracked the rise in lion ownership with on-site visits and by trawling social media. They recorded around 130 in 2018, and nearly 450 by 2024. But nearly 350 more lions they encountered were "lost to follow-up" after their whereabouts could not be confirmed for a year. That could indicate unreported deaths, an animal removed from display or "worst-case scenarios", said Taylor. "We have interviewed traders (in the region) who have given us prices for live and dead lions and have told us they can take them over the border." As a vulnerable species, lions and their parts can only be sold internationally with so-called CITES permits. But there is circumstantial evidence of illicit trade, several experts told AFP, speaking on condition of anonymity to avoid angering authorities. Media reports and social media have documented lions, including cubs, in Cambodia multiple times in recent years, though CITES shows no registered imports since 2003. There is also growing evidence that captive lion numbers in Laos exceed CITES import licences. In Thailand, meanwhile, imports of lion parts like bones, skins and teeth have dropped in recent years, though demand remains, raising questions about how parts are now being sourced. Thai trader Pathamawadee Janpithak started in the crocodile business, but pivoted to lions as prices for the reptiles declined. "It gradually became a full-fledged business that I couldn't step away from," the gregarious 32-year-old told AFP in front of a row of caged cubs. She sells one-month-olds for around 500,000 baht ($15,500), down from a peak of 800,000 baht as breeding operations like hers increase supply. Captive lions are generally fed around two kilograms (4.4 pounds) of chicken carcasses a day, and can produce litters of two to six cubs, once or twice a year. Pathamawadee's three facilities house around 80 lions, from a stately full-maned nine-year-old to a sickly pair of eight-day-olds being bottle-fed around the clock. They are white because of a genetic mutation, and the smaller pool of white lions means inbreeding and sickness are common. Sometimes wrongly considered a "threatened" subspecies, they are popular in Thailand, but a month-old white cub being reared alongside the newborns has been sick almost since birth. It has attracted no buyers so far and will be unbreedable, Pathamawadee said. She lamented the increasing difficulty of finding buyers willing to comply with ownership rules. "In the past, people could just put down money and walk away with a lion... Everything has become more complicated." - Legal review - Pathamawadee sells around half of the 90 cubs she breeds each year, often to other breeders, who are increasingly opening "lion cafes" where customers pose with and pet young lions. Outside Chiang Mai, a handler roused a cub from a nap to play with a group of squealing Chinese tourists. Staff let AFP film the interaction, but like all lion cafes contacted, declined interviews. Pathamawadee no longer sells to cafes, which tend to offload cubs within weeks as they grow. She said several were returned to her traumatised and no longer suitable for breeding. The growing lion population is a problem for Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP), admitted wildlife protection director Sadudee Punpugdee. "But private ownership has existed for a long time... so we're taking a gradual approach," he told AFP. That includes limiting lion imports so breeders are forced to rely on the domestic population. "With inbreeding on the rise, the quality of the lions is also declining and we believe that demand will decrease as a result," Sadudee said. Already stretched authorities face difficult choices on enforcing regulations, as confiscated animals become their responsibility, said Penthai Siriwat, illegal wildlife trade specialist at WWF Thailand. "There is a great deal of deliberation before intervening... considering the substantial costs," she told AFP. Owners like Tharnuwarht often evoke conservation to justify their pets, but Thailand's captive lions will never live in the wild. Two-year-olds Khanom and Khanun live in a DNP sanctuary after being confiscated from a cafe and private owner over improper paperwork. They could survive another decade or more, and require specialised keepers, food and care. Sanctuary chief vet Natanon Panpeth treads carefully while discussing the lion trade, warning only that the "well-being of the animals should always come first". Big cat ownership has been banned in the United States and United Arab Emirates in recent years, and Thailand's wildlife rules are soon up for review. Sadudee is hopeful some provisions may be tightened, though a ban is unlikely for now. He has his own advice for would-be owners: "Wild animals belong in the wild. There are plenty of other animals we can keep as pets."
