“My sexual orientation and my sexuality aren’t choices,” she wrote in March. “But your baseless hatred and your homophobia are.”

Linda Noumsi, a makeup artist and friend of Shakiro’s, said her activism had attracted many critics. “She has a strong personality, and she can be quite vocal about her cause, which brought real supporters, fake friends, and enemies,” Ms. Noumsi said.

Ms. Nkom, the lawyer, said the verdict sent a pernicious message to the public in Cameroon: “It says, ‘If you don’t like someone’s appearance because they are different, you can just call the police, and they’ll have them arrested.’”

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Three Months After Coup, Myanmar Returns to the ‘Bad Old Days’

Every night at 8, the stern-faced newscaster on Myanmar military T.V. announces the day’s hunted. The mug shots of those charged with political crimes appear onscreen. Among them are doctors, students, beauty queens, actors, reporters, even a pair of makeup bloggers.

Some of the faces look puffy and bruised, the likely result of interrogations. They are a warning not to oppose the military junta that seized power in a Feb. 1 coup and imprisoned the country’s civilian leaders.

As the midnight insects trill, the hunt intensifies. Military censors sever the internet across most of Myanmar, matching the darkness outside with an information blackout. Soldiers sweep through the cities, arresting, abducting and assaulting with slingshots and rifles.

The nightly banging on doors, as arbitrary as it is dreaded, galvanizes a frenzy of self-preservation. Residents delete their Facebook accounts, destroy incriminating mobile phone cards and erase traces of support for Myanmar’s elected government. As sleep proves elusive, it’s as if much of the nation is suffering a collective insomnia.

Daw Aung San Suu Kyi or an unregistered cellphone or a single note of foreign currency — could mean a prison sentence. Some of the military’s Orwellian diktats rivaled those of North Korea.

among them dozens of children.

rule by fear, it is also holding hostage a changed country. The groundswell of opposition to the coup, which has sustained protests in hundreds of cities and towns, was surely not in the military’s game plan, making its crackdown all the riskier. Neither the outcome of the putsch nor the fate of the resistance is preordained.

Myanmar’s full emergence from isolation — economic, political and social — only came five years ago when the military began sharing power with an elected government headed by Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi. A population that barely had any connection to the internet quickly made up for lost time. Today, its citizenry is well versed in social media and the power of protests tethered to global movements. They know how to spot a good political meme on the internet.

Their resistance to the coup has included a national strike and a civil disobedience movement, which have paralyzed the economy and roiled the government. Banks and hospitals are all but shut. Although the United Nations has warned that half the country could be living in poverty by next year because of the pandemic and the political crisis, the democratic opposition’s resolve shows no sign of weakening.

National Unity Government, a civilian authority set up after the elected leadership was expelled by the military. A popular tactic is to affix an image of Senior Gen. Min Aung Hlaing, the coup leader, on the sole of a shoe, smashing his face into the ground with each step. During spot checks, the police now demand that people show their soles.

Ms. Thuzar Nwe says she wears her hair down to cover her tattoo, hoping the police won’t be too inquisitive.

“In Myanmar culture, if a woman has a tattoo, she’s a bad girl,” she said. “I broke the rules of culture. This revolution is a rare chance to eradicate dictatorship from the country.”

But the Tatmadaw, as the Myanmar military is known, has built an entire infrastructure dedicated to one purpose: perpetuating its power for power’s sake.

Its bureaucracy of oppression is formidable. An army of informers, known as “dalan,” has reappeared, monitoring whispers and neighbors’ movements.

The blandly named General Administration Department, a vast apparatus that remained under military control even after the army had started sharing authority with the civilian government, is once again pressuring administrators to keep tabs on everyone’s political views. And local officials have taken to banging on doors and peering in homes, as a dreaded system of household registration is reintroduced.

revoked the publishing licenses of major private newspapers. Democracy will return soon, the military’s headlines insist. Banking services are running “as usual.” Health care with “modern machinery” is available. Government ministries are enjoying English-proficiency courses. Soft-shell crab cultivation is “thriving” and penetrating the foreign market.

acquiring Chinese-made weapons and Russian fighter jets. But its propaganda is stuck in a time warp from back when few challenged its narrative. There is no mention in its media of the military’s killing spree, the broken economy or the growing armed resistance. On Wednesday, the State Administration Council, as the junta calls itself, banned satellite T.V.

For all the fear percolating in Myanmar, the resistance has only hardened. On Wednesday, the National Unity Government said it was forming a “people’s defense force” to counter the Tatmadaw. Two days before, ethnic insurgents fighting in the borderlands shot down a Tatmadaw helicopter.

convince the military ranks that the coup was necessary, Tatmadaw insiders said. Sequestered in military compounds without good internet access, soldiers have little ability to tap into the outrage of fellow citizens. Their information diet is composed of military T.V., military newspapers and the echo chambers of military-dominated Facebook on the rare occasions they can get online.

Still, news does filter in, and some officers have broken rank. In recent weeks, about 80 Myanmar Air Force officers have deserted and are now in hiding, according to fellow military personnel.

“Politics are not the business of soldiers,” said an air force captain who is now in hiding and does not want his name used because his family might be punished for his desertion. “Now the Tatmadaw have become the terrorists, and I don’t want to be part of it.”

In the cities, almost everyone seems to know someone who has been arrested or beaten or forced to pay a bribe to the security forces in exchange for freedom.

Last month, Ma May Thaw Zin, a 19-year-old law student, joined a flash mob protest in Yangon, the country’s biggest city. The police, she said, detained several young women and crammed them into an interrogation center cell so small they barely had room to sit on the floor.

For a whole day, there was no food. Ms. May Thaw Zin said she resorted to drinking from the toilet. The interrogations were just her and a clutch of men. They rubbed against her and kicked her breasts and face with their boots, she said. On the fourth day, after men shoved the barrel of a pistol against the black hood over her head, she was released. The bruises remain.

Since she returned home, some family members have refused to have anything to do with her because she was caught protesting, Ms. May Thaw Zin said. Even if they hate the coup, even if they know their futures have been blunted, the instincts of survival have kicked in.

“They are afraid,” she said, but “I can’t accept that my country will go back to the old dark age.”

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Aleksei Navalny, Putin’s Nemesis, Ends Hunger Strike

MOSCOW — Aleksei A. Navalny, the imprisoned Russian opposition leader, ended a three-week hunger strike on Friday that had embarrassed the Kremlin, drew international criticism and sparked protests at home.

The 24-day hunger strike, which Mr. Navalny said had left him so skinny he looked like a “skeleton, swaying, walking in its cell,” became the latest battle in a yearslong, high-stakes competition between President Vladimir V. Putin and his most prominent domestic political opponent.

Mr. Putin refuses even to speak Mr. Navalny’s name while the police and prosecutors harry his political organization with arrests and, this month, a move to ban it outright. Mr. Navalny is serving a prison sentence of more than two years for a parole violation of a conviction he says was politically motivated.

But even in prison he managed to confound Mr. Putin with a quandary: either concede to his demands for medical treatment by his personal doctors or risk creating a martyr.

slickly produced videos exposing corruption at the highest ranks. He routinely refers to Mr. Putin’s United Russia party as a gang of “crooks and thieves.”

Mr. Navalny has also continued to set the agenda for the political opposition ahead of parliamentary elections scheduled for the fall. His organization turned out tens of thousands of street protesters on Wednesday, stealing some of the limelight from Mr. Putin’s annual state of the nation address.

treat health problems that possibly stemmed from his poisoning with a chemical weapon last year.

Novichok, a rare nerve agent only manufactured in Russia and the Soviet Union before it broke up, had been placed in his underwear in a hotel room last August. At the time, he was organizing his political group for local elections. The Kremlin denied any role in the poisoning.

Mr. Navalny was medically evacuated to Germany in a coma, recovered and returned to Russia in January, where he was arrested at the airport.

In prison, he reported back pain and numbness in his legs and arms. Earlier this month, tests showed signs of possible kidney failure that could lead to a lethal irregularity in Mr. Navalny’s heartbeat, his doctors said.

Prison authorities never allowed access for Mr. Navalny’s personal doctor. They did move him from his cell, first to a prison hospital then a civilian hospital, and this week allowed specialists to examine him.

“Doctors whom I fully trust made a statement that we have achieved enough for me to stop my fast,” Mr. Navalny said in a statement posted on his Instagram account on Friday. He said doctors had also advised him that if he continued the hunger strike, “there will be nobody left to treat.”

Mr. Navalny said he also broke his fast because some supporters had announced hunger strikes in solidarity with him, and he did not want to risk their health.

statement Thursday outlining the health care prison authorities had allowed after his transfer to a civilian hospital, including examinations by independent neurologists. The doctors said they had also received access to his test results, partially fulfilling the demands of the hunger strike.

state of the nation speech a hopeful message of economic growth as the country emerged from the coronavirus pandemic. By the end of the day, police had detained nearly 1,500 demonstrators nationwide.

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Aleksei Navalny, Russian Opposition Leader, Ends Hunger Strike

MOSCOW — Aleksei A. Navalny, the imprisoned Russian opposition leader, announced Friday that he had ended a more than three-week hunger strike on the recommendation of his doctors, saying that he had partially achieved his goals.

Isolated behind prison walls and with his health failing amid fears of lingering effects from a poisoning with a chemical weapon last year, Mr. Navalny had demanded treatment from doctors of his choosing. He began the hunger strike on March 31.

The prison authorities never allowed access for Mr. Navalny’s personal doctor. They did provide medical treatment, first at a prison hospital then a civilian hospital, and then this week allowed specialists to examine him.

“Doctors whom I fully trust made a statement that we have achieved enough for me to stop my fast,” Mr. Navalny said in a statement posted on his Instagram account.

ill treatment in prison.

Mr. Navalny said doctors had advised him to halt his hunger strike because, if he continued, “there will be nobody left to treat.”

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Aleksei Navalny Should Be in Intensive Care, His Doctors Say

MOSCOW — The personal doctors of Aleksei A. Navalny, the imprisoned Russian opposition leader, sharply escalated their warnings over the weekend about his health failing from a hunger strike, the lingering effects of an attempted poisoning with a chemical weapon, and what they said was ill treatment in prison.

Isolated behind prison walls and treated only by government doctors, Mr. Navalny is now at risk of dying “at any moment” from kidney and heart ailments, said a personal physician, Dr. Yaroslav Ashikhmin.

With the reports of Mr. Navalny’s deteriorating health, his supporters announced a street protest in what they called a final effort to persuade the authorities to allow access for independent doctors, and to draw attention to the grim standoff over health care in detention for Mr. Navalny. The activist is nearly three weeks into a hunger strike over his medical treatment in prison.

The health alarms also prompted an international reaction. The United States national security adviser, Jake Sullivan, said in an appearance on CNN that the Russian government would face “consequences if Mr. Navalny dies.”

convicted in a show trial of violating parole and sentenced to more than two years in prison.

Mr. Navalny, who is 44, had been in good health before narrowly surviving an attack with a rare nerve agent last summer. He and Western governments blamed the Kremlin. The Russian president, Vladimir V. Putin, has denied any role in the poisoning, and prison officials say they are providing adequate care.

But Mr. Navalny’s lawyers have not ruled out lingering effects of the chemical weapon on his health. Mr. Navalny, the main political opponent of Mr. Putin for a decade now, has reported severe back pain and the loss of sensation in his legs and arms. Prison doctors found slipped discs in his back.

He was later moved to a prison infirmary with a high temperature and coughing. The prison told Mr. Navalny and his lawyers that tests for Covid-19 and tuberculosis, a common contagion in Russian prisons, had been negative.

said in a post on social media. He noted abnormally high levels of potassium in Mr. Navalny’s blood.

“Our patient could die at any moment,” Dr. Ashikhmin wrote. “A patient with this level of potassium should be in intensive care as at any moment a fatal arrhythmia could develop.”

Members of Mr. Navalny’s political organization have called the withholding of care a slow-motion assassination attempt by the Russian government. Over the weekend, their warnings became more dire. After doctors raised alarms, Mr. Navalny’s political allies said on Sunday that if treatment were withheld, he would die within days, and called for the street protest.

Chris Cameron contributed reporting from Washington.

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Navalny Is Moved to Infirmary as His Health Declines

Their white gowns flapping in an icy wind, the doctors milled about in the desolate spot.

The prison, Penal Colony No. 2 in the Vladimir Region about 60 miles east of Moscow, is surrounded by a frozen swamp. The doctors said they intended to hold a regular protest at the site, within view of the coiled barbed wire of the prison wall, until Mr. Navalny receives proper treatment. The prison authorities say they provide adequate care.

“We don’t plan to stand down,” Ms. Vasilyeva said. “We will come tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, until they let us in and we can understand what is happening with Aleksei.”

But after their action Tuesday, the police detained Ms. Vasilyeva, several other doctors, and journalists including a correspondent for CNN, Matthew Chance.

After the chemical weapon poisoning, Mr. Navalny was evacuated to Germany for treatment. The German government said it had discovered traces of Novichok, an exotic nerve agent that can be lethal to the touch and is known to have been manufactured only in Russia and previously in the Soviet Union. The poison was also used in the 2018 attempted assassination of a double agent, Sergei Skripal, in Britain, according to the British government.

“There is nothing difficult to understand here,” Ivan Tumanov, the director of Mr. Navalny’s movement in the Vladimir Region, said in an interview on Tuesday of Mr. Navalny’s worsening health. “Putin wants Navalny dead, so he isn’t allowing doctors to visit.”

Supporters say the prison authorities have also resorted to petty harassment. Nearby Mr. Navalny, who is now well into a hunger strike, they have been grilling chicken, Kira Yarmysh, Mr. Navalny’s spokeswoman said on Tuesday.

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