Nay Thwin Nyein's escape from Myanmar was unlike anything he had experienced before.
He described a perilous journey, walking for eight hours over mountains under cover of nightfall with fellow escapees, unable to see except for the light cast from their phones.
Guides hacked through bamboo with machetes to clear a path for a car they travelled in, and they switched vehicles multiple times to cross the border illegally into Thailand.
For the Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB) journalist, leaving his home country after the military coup on February 1 last year came with a sense of déjà vu — a decade earlier, he had been working from Chiang Mai in Thailand as Myanmar was under military rule. This was "Exile 2.0", he said.
"The freedom is taken away by the military. The country is now going in the direction of total collapse… In my lifetime, I've never seen this kind of situation," he said.
A year ago today, Myanmar woke to an internet blackout and the news that the army had seized power and arrested the country's democratically elected leaders, plunging the fledgling democracy into crisis.
In the days and weeks after, Nay Thwin and his colleagues continued to report inside the country, moving between safe houses as the junta searched for them, while the people rose up in protest and the military responded with deadly force.
But when the junta revoked the licences and banned broadcasts of DVB and four other independent outlets in March, they knew they had to get out.
Nay Thwin and two of his colleagues were only in Thailand for a month when they were arrested by local immigration authorities, along with two Myanmar activists.
They were sentenced and feared arrest or death if they were deported back to Myanmar.
Human rights groups urged for them not to be sent back, and Thailand's foreign minister said authorities were seeking a "humanitarian solution".
In June, they were safely resettled in Australia, although the country that gave them safe haven was not named at the time.
From Australia, Nay Thwin and his colleague Nay Yee Yee continue to report on what's happening in Myanmar from a makeshift studio.
"Fortunately, we were saved by the Australian government. We are very relieved," he said.
"Relatively we are safe here. So sometimes we feel guilty, we feel really guilty, but we try to help the people."
The military, which was already guaranteed a quarter of Myanmar's parliamentary seats under the constitution, said it staged the coup due to electoral fraud — claims international observers have rejected — and promised to hold fresh elections next year.
For Nay Thwin, now an editor of DVB, it's critical to get information to the people inside Myanmar, especially the younger generation who are resisting the coup.
"People are sacrificing their lives," he said.
"The pen is mightier than the bullet, right? Media is like a weapon.
"Our bullets are powerful, as powerful as the real bullets from the gun. That's why we need to continue.
"This is our job – to let the people know what is true."
'Can you go tomorrow?'
Chit Suu Win Htein fled Myanmar with consular help with her young son, Sam Atticus, and her Australian husband Eugene Quah in the weeks following the military takeover.
The development worker is the daughter of senior politician U Win Htein, a close aide to deposed leader Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and a patron of her National League for Democracy (NLD) party.
In November, U Win Htein was found guilty of "sedition" and sentenced to 20 years in prison, after he publicly called for a people's civil disobedience movement to oppose the junta's rule.
"My dad is 80 years old with various medical conditions and now in prison again, and I'm worried about his health," Chit Suu said through tears.
She last saw her father in Myanmar's capital Naypyitaw in late January, when he warned her not to stay with him due to rumblings of a potential coup.
She was "very surprised and shocked" — she couldn't believe that a coup might take place in 2021.
From their hotel on February 1 last year, Chit Suu and Eugene realised their internet and phone connections were cut off — they turned on state-owned media to see military propaganda songs and a state of emergency being announced.
Their world crumbling, they travelled back to Yangon and were stopped by a small military convoy — the soldiers allowed them to pass without asking for Chit Suu's ID, which would have revealed who her father was.
Around midnight on February 4, the news came — her father had been detained.
Eugene said he had been in contact with the Australian embassy about their options to leave the country, but it wouldn't be until mid-February that they got out.
"Initially DFAT was a little slow to respond but once they realised we were in serious danger they acted very swiftly," he said.
"[They said], 'We want you on a plane. Can you go tomorrow?'"
They had been staying with friends and could not go home first to pack their things — they left with little more than a change of clothes.
Arriving in Australia was surreal — they felt survivor's guilt, and the upheaval was disorienting for their child, who was aged two-and-a-half at the time.
When they left quarantine in Melbourne, they went to a beach — a sharp disconnect from the reality faced by their friends and family in Myanmar, where people were being shot and the violence was escalating.
"[In Myanmar] we didn't have a proper sleep since day one, because you don't know who's going to knock on your door and take you for no reason," Chit Suu said.
In Australia, at least she can sleep at night, she said.
"We are lucky in Australia, because there are a lot of people who had to run away in the jungle and stay in the jungle," she said, adding many were living precariously on the Thai border and thousands were internally displaced.
Her father had already spent 19 years — most of Chit Suu's childhood — in prison. She grew to know him mainly through the letters he wrote to her.
Now she's the one writing letters to him — "he likes to hear about our son's cheekiness, so I have to put that in the letters — that keeps his spirits up," she said.
What's unfolded in the past year in Myanmar is "everybody's worst nightmare," Eugene said, but he and his wife hope that out of a united hatred of autocracy, the people can build a more inclusive Myanmar society.
"We are fortunate to be safe in Australia, although of course we want to see our family, friends and colleagues again," he said.
"They are in our minds every day and we will not forget them. Australia must also not forget about Myanmar."
'This is not forever'
It's also been a difficult year for Kyi Phyu Moe Htet, an international student from Myanmar.
She's been forced to watch from afar as almost 1,500 people have been killed by the junta, and more than 8,700 have been arrested, charged or sentenced, according to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners (Burma), a non-profit rights group that has tracked the coup's casualties.
She and her fellow international students have been protesting in the streets and urging the Australian government to recognise the National Unity Government, a group of ousted elected politicians and the heads of ethnic minority groups — actions that would put them at risk if they were forced to return.
Last year, the Australian government said it would extend the stay for 3,500 Myanmar nationals on temporary visas, giving students like her, whose visas were due to expire, a reprieve.
"It's almost a year, and the military is not backing down … so there's a really slim chance for me to return back home safely to see my family," she said.
With many families at home facing financial difficulty due to inflation and a banking crisis, she and other students have deferred their studies in search of work to help pay their university fees.
Seeing people sentenced to death in Myanmar has also devastated members of the Myanmar diaspora in Australia, and Kyi Phyu said something that would help students is greater access to mental health services.
"I'm still yearning for the democratic transition in the future – I don't know when, but that sentiment is slowly dying."
Statistics from the Department of Home Affairs show that since the coup, more than 480 Myanmar people in Australia have applied for onshore protection visas.
Between July 2020 and July 2021, more than 2,600 Myanmar nationals lodged offshore humanitarian visa applications, and Australia granted asylum to 656 — second only to Iraq.
"Refugees and people in humanitarian need from Myanmar have been in the top five main groups resettled in recent years," a Home Affairs spokesperson said.
Australian citizen Sean Turnell, an economic advisor to Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, has been detained in Myanmar for almost a year under charges of violating the Official Secrets Act. His trial is underway but Australian officials have been blocked from attending.
Sophia Sarkis, an activist based in Sydney, said members of the diaspora wanted political prisoners to be freed and for elected leaders to be back in control of the Myanmar.
"It has been one year since our country fell into the hands of the tyrants. We are still hurt," she said.
In a joint letter, NGOs including Human Rights Watch and the Australian Council For International Development urged Australia's Foreign Minister Marise Payne to "impose targeted sanctions on Myanmar's abusive military leaders and their business interests".
The letter said the government has imposed no additional sanctions on the coup leaders or their business conglomerates since the overthrow of the civilian government, although Australia did suspend military cooperation with Myanmar and redirected aid.
The Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade has been contacted for comment.
The junta, which calls itself the State Administration Council (SAC) and has defended its actions as necessary to prevent "terrorism", did not respond to the ABC's request for an interview.
While grateful for the safety of Australia, many are longing for their loved ones and bereft over the crisis enveloping their country — which they feel has been plunged back into the dark ages after a decade of democratic hope.
"We don't want to stay here, and most want to go back to our own country … a lot of people want to reunite with their family members and return to their own roots, and I really want to do that," Kyi Phyu said.
Exile is becoming a familiar state for Nay Thwin, but he's confident one day he'll be able to return home.
"Freedom is like a drug. If you get one dose, then you cannot stop it. So that's why – the younger generation, they have the dose for freedom," he said.
"This is not forever — this time is different … the people, now they will fight back until democracy returns."
