Before the fires and the screams, before the helicopters and the gunfire, there was only the sound of the river. The Purma wound lazily through the lush green heart of Rakhine State, wrapping itself around a quiet village that shimmered in the morning light. The village was called Tula Toli by some. Others knew it as Min Gyi, Tu Lar Tu Li, or Tular Tuli. Its Burmese name, မင်းကြီး (ကုလား), appeared alongside its local title, တူလာတူလီ, on maps marking its coordinates at 21.1398296356201 latitude and 92.3308486938477 longitude.

Tula Toli lay within Maungdaw Township in western Myanmar. The Purma River curved around it on three sides, giving the village the appearance of a small island. Life here followed the rhythm of the water. Children played by the banks, women washed clothes beneath the trees, and men fished at dawn. The river provided everything.

Then, as the sun rose on 30 August 2017, the village’s peaceful rhythm broke into chaos.

The Days Before the Attack

In the weeks leading up to that day, unease rippled through Rakhine State. Rumors spread of military movements and impending operations. On 25 August 2017, the Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army (ARSA) launched attacks on thirty security outposts. The Myanmar military’s response was swift and devastating. What the government called “clearance operations” quickly became campaigns of destruction against Rohingya communities.

In Tula Toli, village leaders told residents that if soldiers came, they should gather on the beach by the river. The open space, they said, would be safer. Families trusted their guidance. None could imagine that these same leaders would soon stand beside soldiers, wearing uniforms and carrying weapons.

The Morning the Soldiers Came

At eight o’clock on the morning of 30 August 2017, the still air of Tula Toli shattered. Gunfire echoed through the fields. A helicopter descended nearby, its blades whipping dust into the air. Witnesses later recalled that it delivered weapons and uniforms to local Rakhine villagers who joined the soldiers in preparing for the assault.

By mid-morning, between one and two thousand Rohingya villagers had gathered on the beach by the Purma, following the instructions given earlier. The river surrounded them on three sides. There was no way out.

At ten o’clock, the soldiers arrived. They ordered the women to stand in the water. Then they turned their weapons on the men.

The gunfire began. Soldiers shot without mercy. Men fell in waves, their bodies dragged into pits that had been dug along the sand. Witnesses described attackers carrying machetes and spades. Grenades exploded inside the pits before fuel was poured over the bodies and set alight.

When the flames finally died, the soldiers buried the ashes beneath the sand. Over time, the riverbank eroded, carrying fragments of what remained downstream. The dead of Tula Toli were taken by the same river that had once given them life.

The Afternoon of Fire and Smoke

By around 2 p.m., the soldiers turned their attention to the women and children. They were forced into houses across the village, where many were raped and, in some cases, subjected to brutal torture. Once the soldiers finished, the doors were locked, and the houses were set ablaze. Flames and smoke swallowed the structures, yet some women and children managed to escape, slipping into rice paddies or hiding in latrines, waiting in silence until the attackers moved on.

The village itself, cradled by the Purma River on three sides, left few avenues for escape. Those who tried to flee by swimming across the river often drowned or were shot in the attempt. A small number managed to reach the opposite bank at Dual Toli and eventually made their way to refugee camps in Bangladesh, where they later shared their accounts of the massacre.

Visual evidence of the attack is scarce. Survivors reported that soldiers confiscated all mobile phones before the violence escalated. Others explained that when faced with bullets, fire, and the chaos of slaughter, recording the attack was far from anyone’s mind. The horror they endured left few traces beyond the memories and testimonies they would later recount.

Though each report records different numbers, all agree that the loss in Tula Toli was immense. The Guardian cited a Rohingya-compiled list of 1,179 victims, while AMUST estimated as many as 1,700. Among the dead were about 200 women and at least 300 children. And Amnesty International documented the destruction of 385 structures in the village. 

What had once been a vibrant village, had now been reduced to ashes and silence.

The Evidence from Above

The last satellite images of Tula Toli before the massacre were taken on 23 May 2017. The next available images, from 16 September 2017, revealed an entirely different landscape. Where there had once been homes, only charred ground remained.

On Google Maps, Tula Toli appears on the southwestern edge of the river bend. Yet testimonies collected by Human Rights Watch suggest that the true location of the Rohingya village was on the opposite bank, facing Dual Toli.

Strikingly, the area marked as Tula Toli on Google Maps remained untouched. Further investigation showed that this unburned region belonged to Rakhine and non-Rohingya residents. According to the Myanmar Information Management Unit, the Rakhine village was listed as “Min Gyi (Tu Lar Tu Li)” and the destroyed Rohingya settlement as “Min Gyi (Ku Lar)”—the latter including a derogatory term used for Rohingya people.

Satellite analysis also revealed a debris field on the beach opposite Dual Toli, precisely where survivors said the killings took place. Pieces of clothing and personal belongings were visible in the wreckage. The coordinates of this site are 21.139030116534386 latitude and 92.3355526850494 longitude.

According to the two maps from HRW and Amnesty, the area left unburned is an ethnic Rakhine and non-Rohingya area. Moreover, the Myanmar Information Management Unit maps label the Rakhine village as “Min Gyi (Tu Lar Tu Li)” and the burnt area as “Min Gyi (Ku Lar)”, with the latter containing a derogatory term used against the Rohingya.

Evidence suggests that the mass graves were likely located on the beach opposite Dual Toli. Survivors consistently reported fleeing from the soldiers along this stretch of riverbank, crossing the Purma toward Dual Toli in a desperate bid for safety. Satellite imagery taken after 30 August shows a debris field in this area, which investigators believe may consist of clothing, personal belongings, and other remnants left behind by villagers in the chaos. The alignment of witness accounts with these visual clues points to the beach as the probable site of the graves, a silent testament to the lives lost there.

Coordinates of beach: 21.139030116534386, 92.3355526850494

Mass Graves and Survivor Testimonies

Numerous survivors have testified that the victims of the Tula Toli massacre were buried in mass graves.

Rajuma, who survived the attack and spoke with Human Rights Watch, described the horrific process: “[The soldiers] dug big holes, with the help of locals [Rakhine]. There were about 200 to 250 [Rakhine] with the army, and they dug a big hole. They put all the bodies inside, and then used leaves and bamboo to start a fire. They also threw grenades on them, and then finally they threw sand on top of them.”

Two other survivors, Hassina and Shawfika, provided accounts that corroborated Rajuma’s testimony. They described how soldiers, aided by Rakhine villagers, forced the bodies of men, women, and children into pits before covering them with fire and sand.

Rashida, another Rohingya refugee featured by VICE, recounted the terror of the riverbank. “The women and children were separated from the men first,” she said. “Then they were pushed to the river’s shore. They were trapped as a mob of armed attackers began to shoot relentlessly. Some tried to dash into the water, braving the currents, hoping they could swim to safety while bullets rained down. As victims fell dead around me, I collapsed to the ground, hiding my baby between the folds of my headscarf. After a brief pause in shooting, the soldiers shouted for any survivors to stand up, then fired again. When they were finished, the attackers dug a hole and filled it with the bodies of the dead.”

CNN documented a related testimony from a survivor named Mumtaz, who described a scene of unimaginable horror. She recalled finding herself lying on a pile of charred bodies and body parts, stating that the aggressors “killed and killed and piled the bodies up high.”

These accounts, consistent across multiple sources, paint a clear picture of how mass graves were created, leaving a chilling mark on the memory of Tula Toli.

Fragments of Proof

Although direct video evidence is scarce, several powerful records remain:

• A Human Rights Watch video combining refugee testimonies and satellite imagery

• A memorial article by the Rohingya Students Forum featuring one identified victim

• Rare photos of a Rohingya village, two years after the Myanmar army destroyed it, showing survivors returning to the site

• A CNN feature titled ‘I knew them, yet they were killing us’, confirming that soldiers shot at anyone attempting to film

Together, these accounts and investigations create a mosaic of truth. Each fragment, each testimony, resists the silence that the perpetrators tried to impose.

What Remains

Today, the Purma River still winds through the land where Tula Toli once stood. Grass and trees have reclaimed the soil. From a distance, it might seem peaceful again. But beneath the surface lie the memories of those who never left.

The Myanmar military and its collaborators must be held accountable for their role in the genocide of the Rohingya people. The evidence is there—in witness accounts, in satellite images, and in the earth itself.

The river that once gave Tula Toli life now carries the memory of massacre, flowing past the charred remains of homes, the sand that homes the dead, and the echoes of screams that will never be silenced - remembering every bullet fired, every child lost, and every life forever changed.