On 2 June 2008, I crossed the Naf River and travelled to Maungdaw to attend my first formal flag meeting. Officials of Myanmar’s then border force, Nasaka, received us warmly. The atmosphere was friendly and professional. They also expressed their gratitude for relief materials sent by Bangladesh Rifles to people affected by Cyclone Nargis.

Looking back from today’s much more uncertain border environment, that visit taught me something important: the character of a border is never permanent. When internal politics change, when the balance of military power changes, and when trust between neighbouring authorities changes, the reality along the border can change very quickly as well.

My first feeling after entering Maungdaw was one of familiarity. The trees, weather, clothing, food and many social customs reminded me of southeastern Bangladesh. The distant Mayu hills, the green paddy fields in front of them and the wooden houses gave the place a quiet and pleasant appearance.

I saw Buddhist temples as well as mosques. One thing particularly caught my attention, the Rohingya language sounded remarkably similar to the regional dialect spoken in Chattogram. But I also noticed a contradiction.

The Rohingya were very active in business and trade, yet their position within administration and politics appeared weak. Life might have looked normal from outside, but beneath that surface there was a sense of pressure, deprivation and uncertainty.

Later events showed us that a society may look peaceful without actually being stable.

When questions of citizenship, identity, political representation and basic rights remain unresolved for many years, the foundations of conflict slowly build beneath the surface.