#rohin

Bangladesh slams Myanmar for ‘atrocities’ against Rohin... - http://wp.me/p8IdFB-5N0 - #Atrocities, #Bangladesh, #Myanmar, #News, #Rohin, #Slams

Myanmar's Suu Kyi denounces terrorists, silent on Rohin... - http://wp.me/p8IdFB-57W - #Denounces, #Kyi, #Myanmars, #News, #Rohin, #Silent, #Suu, #Terrorists

Meet Rohin. He's a brutal assassin when on a mission, but he loves to lounge at home and has a softer, kinder side if he trusts you.

​At 3:00 PM, on a crushingly hot day in late May 2007, four boys set out to explore the wilderness of the camp area. My friends and I were on a school trip—it was the final days of fifth grade, the last hurrah of elementary school and we had been given a “Math and Science” Camp trip to grounds in Sedona, Arizona. For three days over a hundred eleven year old pseudo-camped out, complete with full log cabin cafeteria and complex log cabin apartment-style dorms. Daily activities ranging from outdoor sports to indoor karaoke took up most of the day. The camp administrators always gave time to let the children explore random areas of the campground. And, smack dab, in a central position of the grounds, was a steep hill off-limits. Covered in jagged, large rocks and dominated by a single, small house covered in faded blue paint peeling off the walls. It was this unsurmountable mound, on this insanely heated day, that I with my friends set out to conquer. Filling a few plastic water bottles, like Tolkien’s hobbits we set out to climb Mt. Doom. ​We climbed and climbed, stopping only to drink or to figure out a way around a gap in the rocks or a steep climbed. Up and up, we moved, reaching higher and higher than ever before. It was around the halfway point that one of my friends, a skinny, lithe 11 year old named Kevin, slipped on a rock and cut his leg. He had a red, bloody wound that had cut through the top few layers of skin. There were red smears on the rock, like strokes of red paint on an uneven canvas. My friends had wanted to go back down what seemed like ages ago, and this was their excuse. So when they started trekking down, down and down like a beaten troop of underage soldiers, their cause lost and morale low. ​I would not be beaten. I went out to be victorious over the mountain, not the mountain over me. So I kept going. I only had one water bottle with me, and I stopped frequently to drink from it. The lukewarm water traveled down my throat as I took in the fresh Sedona air. I kept going. On and on and on, up and up and up. I was getting nearer, and nearer, and nearer. I pulled myself up the last group of large boulders, and found myself at a small plateau covered in small pebbles. This was the finale, the masterpiece. I looked down upon the campgrounds and saw those that stood below me. I had conquered what they did not even dare to face, I had done what they could not. I had climbed the campground mountain, the towering bulk that stood over all of them. I climbed back down. The whole episode, from start to finish, had only lasted about an hour.