Inside Geneva Camp: Where people cower as 2 drug kingpins reign supreme

There is a border here, a line you cannot cross if you are from the wrong side. 

The line itself is invisible. Crossing it, however, means either a beat down or worse.

"There's more than 24,000 people living here. Why are we held hostage by 70 others? Why is it ok for us to live next door to killers?" Malek, a tea stall keeper in Geneva Camp said.

In the past few months, the Geneva Camp, restricted to around 14 acres and divided into nine blocks, has seen five deaths — mostly by two warring factions.

One is led by the recently arrested Bunia Sohel, picked up by RAB from Sylhet on 1 November and the other by Chua Selim, currently absconding. The first name monikers are self-provided. Gangsters love nicknames and they have no qualms bestowing it upon themselves.

The two warring factions also inhabit two sides of the same camp, which itself is split into two parts — the Pakka camp and the Kacha camp, named after the kind of homes they usually have.

The two parts are altogether different worlds. While Chua Selim hangs on to the Yaba trade, Bunia Sohel has already branched out: Heroin is his bread and butter. And according to insiders, it nets him an eye-watering Tk16-18 lakh per day.

It is this money, alongside a sudden supply of arms, with which Bunia wreaks havoc on opposition, be they inside or outside the camp.

Inside his darkened lair, his secret is there for all to see.

The valley of death

The journey through Geneva Camp's main entry takes you on a road which snakes and winds its way around a number of shops and eateries. It is brightly lit with the homes pushed into the background.

If you turn left, you are greeted with more shops, tea stalls and eateries. You can drink a cup of tea, have some tehari and even shop for clothes and ornaments. The smell of kebabs permeates the air. 

But walk on and you will soon come across a mosque — this is the marker of a self-imposed no man's land.

On the other side, the homes have curtains pulled, the crowds are sparse and it is darker.

It is also the location of the start of a gang war now stretching into almost a year.

Just beyond the mosque, the narrow pathway moves on, but the hustle and bustle ends.

Shahen Shah, a resident, used to work at a shop located in the middle of this invisible boundary – smackdab between the Pakka camp and the Kaccha camp. This is the now notorious Block-5.

He was shot a couple of weeks ago while closing shop.

In his spot now sat his maternal uncle, Jamil, wearing a light-blue sleeveless shirt and a lungi. At the moment, he was busy playing with his four-year-old granddaughter, Fiza.

Right before his shop hangs a very large banner, it sports the photo of a bullet-riddled minor.

Beneath are the photos of 14 individuals — starting with Bunia Sohel — each with a noose around their neck. The demand is clear: these members of the Bunia gang need to be hanged. 

"My nephew led a normal life, like most others in the camp. He used to work in the evening. He had no relation with the drug dealers, yet he was killed," Jamil Rahman said.

Shahen, 30,  had been raised by his mother. When she passed away, he moved to his aunt's house and got involved in the shop.

"After 10pm, when he stepped out for a walk, a clash erupted, and he sustained a bullet injury," recounted Jamil. 

Was he scared now to bring Fiza to the same spot? "People can get up and move. Where will we go?" he asked.

Shanewaz Alias Kallu, another victim, was 38 years old and worked as a hotel chef outside the camp. "On 16 October, Kallu was shot while returning home from the hotel," said Nasrin Akter, Kallu's sister.

"Why are we being victimised? Why aren't the police arresting those responsible for the illegal drug trade in the camp?" Nasrin asked. "I want justice for my brother's killing."  

As the conversation lingered, a crowd of six to eight people gathered. They all had stories which needed to be told.

Ali, 40, is another resident of the Pakka camp.

"Ordinary citizens are the ones most affected. Look at how narrow the streets are. When they fire from either side, the bullets inevitably enter homes. And look at our homes — 100-120 square feet. Where can we hide?" he said.

Enter the dark

So what lay on the dark side of the Geneva camp, where Bunia Sohel reigned supreme?

Despite numerous attempts at coaxing the residents of the Pakka camp, they refused to cross the invisible barrier. 

"You're going to see it. It's a line, a huge one, hundreds of people, all buying heroin. We can't go there. They will beat us up," Ali said.

He mentioned that for the past eight months, residents of the two sides had not crossed the boundary.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the crowd of gatherers. Shahidul, a butcher by profession, plied his trade in the nearby Krishi Market. He had come to the camp to visit relatives and buy some fresh meat.

"Follow me discreetly. And don't stop or talk to anyone," he whispered.

The tiny line after the mosque, once crossed, opened up to an entirely different vista.

"You see how the shops have their lights dimmed and all the homes have their curtains pulled? They are paid per day to do this," he whispered.

This information would later be confirmed by others in the camp — Tk500 for homes and Tk1,000 for shops.

Once the mosque is crossed, the environment is noticeably different. The roads here are cracked, littered with brickbats. Four or five men stand at the edge, watching and observing passersby.

As we reached the end of the path, Shahidul whispered again. "Stand straight. Don't make eye contact. When we turn right, you will see for yourself."

Right at the turn, we encountered this line. Some 20-30 people stood in a quick-moving line. They approached a woman, money already in their fists, and exchanged it for a small packet — heroin, marking its return in force to the camp after decades.

One man stood next to the line, wielding a stick. Anyone who broke the line was instantly struck.

Walking forward, the alley opened up to a main road. We had exited the camp. It is the scourge that heroin brings which is so reviled by residents here.

More than 24,000 people live in the Geneva Camp, restricted to around 14 acres and divided into nine blocks

Life, interrupted

Khalid Hossain, the chief executive of the Council of Minorities, says life in the camps has almost come to a halt for many.

"We have a free school here, plus a clinic run by the NGO Al Falah. For the past few weeks, both have been completely shut. Some of the children and teachers live on the other side of the camp and can't go there," he says.

Khalid, the lawyer who secured citizenship rights for the camp residents, himself used to reside there. Now he has an office nearby where he practises law. His close ties with the camps also mean he keeps an ever-wary eye on the proceedings inside Geneva Camp.

"The doctors come from outside the camps. Now I have them calling me up and saying they can't come. Their families think it's too risky," Khalid says with a sigh.

Did Bunia Sohel's arrest change things?

"The day after his arrest, men came and attacked Block-5. They threw a bomb. Look, Bunia Sohel's influence isn't just the drugs. He has a huge arms repository and a lot of manpower," he said.

Jamil Khan, another individual who was born in the camp but has since settled in a house in Mohammadpur's Zakir Hossain road, also says the infamy of Bunia Sohel has reached everywhere.

"I remember going to see the Tazia during Ashura this year. You won't believe the line of people buying heroin. There were thousands of them. A man even asked me to move from the spot," he recalled.

"We hear a lot of racist remarks daily, about removing the 'Biharis.' But who runs these guns? Who supports them? And most importantly, where did Bunia Sohel's gang get so many guns from?"

While Chua Selim remains in the background, it is the narrative around Bunia Sohel — part man and part myth — that currently grips the camp.

The making of Bunia Sohel

Bunia Sohel, up until three years ago, was an upstart who went by just Sohel. He worked in his father's eatery, making parathas and bunia or boondi — tiny sweet round balls made of chickpea flour and dipped in sugar syrup.

According to those close to him, Bunia had never shown much interest in the drug trade. He did harbour one ambition — becoming a 'Bhai'.

In a ruthless world where individuals dabbled in and out of citizenship, becoming the object of nationalistic ire when convenient, Sohel decided his way out of poverty was a steep climb.

His elder brother, Tuntun, was a drug runner for Chua Selim's gang, according to locals. It was Tuntun who introduced Bunia to the underbelly of the Yaba world. 

But Sohel was not satisfied. He soon made a network within the heroin syndicate, hauling in supplies. 

Within a year, Bunia Sohel brought in three cash counting machines to the camp to ensure proper documentation of his finances.

In time, he also hired the Syedpuri Gang — around 50 men in the semi-pakka side of the camp — who gave him protection and manpower for Tk70,000 a week.

Bunia's turn to more hard power came during the recent student movement.

His shop was located just near the house of then-local councillor Syed Hasan Nur Islam Rashton. Rashton had approached Bunia a few times and both are said to have shared a good relationship, built on a shared interest in the drug trade.

Interestingly, Rashton also very publicly carried out anti-drug campaigns in the camp, but according to insiders, he would pocket close to Tk10 lakh a week from Bunia's trade, in turn ensuring law enforcement turned a blind eye.

Locals also alleged that Rashton supplied Bunia with arms to suppress the student movement. When the Awami League government fled, the weapons remained in Bunia Sohel's hands.

A camp resident, requesting anonymity, said, "On 3 August, Awami League leaders and activists supplied deadly weapons to members of the drug syndicate to suppress the movement in the Mohammadpur area. 

"Later, after the fall of the government, the leaders fled, leaving the weapons behind. In addition, these drug dealers looted a huge amount of weapons and ammunition from Mohammadpur police station," the resident said.

According to sources at Mohammadpur police station, 682 weapons were looted from there between 5-7 August. These included pistols, China pistols, shotguns and rifles, SMGs and LMGs.

So far, around half of the weapons have been recovered.

Bunia had followed in the footsteps of the drug lords before him. Before Bunia's gang came to prominence, three men are said to have ruled the drug kingdom of Geneva Camp: Ishtiaq, Nadim Hossain, aka Pachis, and Chua Selim.

Their primary means of earning was the Yaba trade, with a little marijuana sprinkled in. In time, their businesses grew, along with tales of their lavish living — bars in Dubai and huge swathes of land in Ashulia, Savar, with even business interests in India. 

In 2018, Pachis, named so due to earning a salary of Tk25 as a waiter at a hotel during his childhood and his ganja rate of Tk25 per 'potla' or small bag, was killed in an alleged shootout with law enforcers.

Then in 2020, Ishtiaq was said to have died in India, either because of Covid-19 or killed. Rumours persist about the nature of his death.

With the death of the two, Chua Selim took over and ran his empire uninterrupted until Bunia entered the scene.  

Conflict for 'Camp Crown'

When Bunia's gang began to sell heroin, the nearby mosque committee on Block 5 objected. No heroin was to be sold near the mosque, but Bunia continued undeterred.

Behind the scenes, Chua Selim is also alleged to have stoked the tension between Bunia and the mosque committee. This tension led to the first gunshots and since then, the divisions only grew in clarity.

There could only be one king in the camp. 

"The thing is, both Bunia and Selim also support their own men. And by men, understand this: there are families with around 70 members living in the homes in the camps. Many of these families are financially patronised by either Bunia or Selim, so there's support there. 

"If one exists, then the other makes less than before," said Alim*, a former associate of Selim and a current resident of Nurjahan road. 

On why there was resentment towards Bunia Sohel than Chua Selim, he said it was down to optics. "Heroin isn't like Yaba; it invades the streets, not just middle-class homes. It's also more money and Bunia's men are heavily armed. There's fear, but there's also disgust as heroin pollutes every community, regardless of their class status." 

In time, the scrutiny has also turned on law enforcement officials.

Though law enforcement is trying to contain the drug trade, fear is intensifying within the camp, while ethnic tensions are also peaking on the outside.

'Why can't the drug trade be eliminated'

Shawkat Ali is the president of the Stranded Pakistanis General Rehabilitation Committee (SPGRC), the largest organisation representing the camp dwellers.

"The infiltration of drugs is an old issue. It has continued for decades. But the firearms, especially those looted from the Mohammadpur and Adabor police stations, have changed the dynamics," he said.

He mentioned that on 27 September, an SPGRC delegate even met with Chief Adviser Muhammad Yunus to bring him up to date on what was happening on the ground.

"A team of seven of us went to Jamuna and described the situation and requested a joint operation. You see, no drugs are produced in the camps. So how do they come in? Despite so many government agencies, including police, RAB, and Army — why can't this be eliminated from the camp?"

He said the ongoing drug trade was a reflection of the failure of law enforcement.

Recently, the army and police have led a raid on the camps, arresting more than a hundred individuals and seizing firearms. This, however, was the tip of the iceberg.

According to locals, drug traders are informed when a raid is about to happen. There are spotters all around, not just within the camp.

Upon exiting Bunia's drug hub, these correspondents saw eight police personnel doing a round on their motorcycles.

Approaching a few police members stationed at the main gate, a bit more was learned. A police outpost had been set up here, on the porch of a school.

The in-charge was Hasnat Ali, who had been transferred from Rajbari to the Dhaka Metropolitan Police only a few weeks ago. To him, it is a brand new world and he has little idea about Geneva Camp.

"We have no idea about the camp. Anything can happen if you enter inside. We have been instructed to ensure that no one can enter the camp from outside. We are trying," said Hasnat Ali.

He also said the camp layout was not known to them.

"We are trying," he repeated.

In the meantime, police are aware of both Bunia Sohel and Chua Selim, alongside their reign of terror. Speaking to The Business Standard, Mohammadpur Police Station Officer-in-Charge (OC) Ali Iftekhar Hasan said there were 15-20 cases against Md Sohel alias Bunia Sohel and Md Selim alias Chua Selim.  Most of these are related to drug dealing. 

As law enforcement tries to contain the drug trade, the fear only grows inside the camp. On the outside, the racial abuse is also peaking.

At the moment, no solution is in hand. It seems, no concrete solution has even been sought.

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of the sources.