Rohingya Life

  Having grown up in a refugee camp in Bangladesh, a poor country that hosts one of the world’s largest refugee populations, I decided to write a book about my birth place in Myanmar, childhood experience as a refugee and later an activist fighting the genocide in Myanmar. Before ending up in the refugee camp, I was trafficked by a gang of human traffickers to Thailand, a country that rejects our plight and has never accepted us within its borders.   I am both a witness and a victim of many crimes: the genocide, human trafficking, persecution and the world’s continued indifference towards Rohingya suffering. It has always been important for me to remember as much as I can of life; fortunately, I kept some notes and pictures of my camp life all these years. Some earlier notes of my life with my mother in Bangladesh have remained with me despite my constant upheavals. With this book, I was using my story of survival to expose the Rohingya’s ongoing situation.   Already 29 y...

Have you ever considered a value of knowing your date of BIRTH - so that you can get together with family members to celebrate this happy occasion over a slice of cake, make a wish when blowing the candles?... Most Rohingyas do not know any other date of birth apart from 1 January. Our parents were not conscious for marking the date in their calendar - the luxury they didn't have. And who would remember in the absence of a proper birth certificate? My mother did not have one, neither did I, so you can track my messy history through the UNHCR’s and govt’s papers with different dates and year of birth, as for my mother - sometimes even different surname.  I was born shortly before the 1992 exodus from Myanmar to Bangladesh started but my papers persistently indicate 1989 as my birth year. This doesn't make any sense when I compare to my mother's documents where her age equally makes no sense. This is just about how deep this identity crisis even runs. When you are blowing you...

When I was studying in the refugee camp in Bangladesh, these were my classmates and friends. They were always kind, loving and sincere with me.  Most important person, though, was the teacher who taught me everything, patiently correcting my mistakes and praising my handwriting. I still hang on to the sweet memories of Abdu Rahman, Amdad Ullah, Zahid Hossain (Sarfaraz Yosoff), Abul Manjur, Shomsul and Rafiqul and how every night we gathered at the block centre. We always wondered about our future and where we will end up. My best friend Abdu Rahman was always an incredible and honest guy, whom I've known since early childhood. In fact, no day would pass that we wouldn't see or speak to each other. Every afternoon, after completing our studies, we visited the east side of the camp to play football and dive into the lake there. The student life was a golden time, full of joy from being around the classmates. I miss all of you! God bless!

Bangladesh has arrested award-winning Rohingya photojournalist Abul Kalam for taking photos of Rohingya being forcibly deported to the uninhabitable & unstable island of Bhasan Char. Photojournalism is not a crime. #FreeAbulKalam

  The millions of Bengali refugees who fled to India in 1971.   (WFP/T. PAGE/1971) In 1992, Rohingya refugees arrive in Bangladesh from Myanmar. (Photo by Liba Taylor) Bangladesh, has probably forgotten how it felt to be persecuted and be forced to flee.  In 1971, 10 millions Bangladeshis fled to India as refugees. In 2017, 1 million Rohingya fled to Bangladesh as refugees.

  This little Rohingya kid and father were displaced by Genocide in Arakan state & they have arrived in Shahapirdip Bangladesh border side. The photo was taken in 2017. Nobody can take away from a parent's love. Rohingya parents also have high hopes for their kids in the future. It is not an easy place to make them educated. Unfortunately, ongoing Genocide make them vulnerable, helpless and voiceless everywhere.  Countless Rohingya children are now orphaned and their futures lost. Photography by Abul Kalam

Being a Rohingya does not deprive me from my rights to show support and solidarity towards my family, my community and my country. I have always stood alongside the voiceless people. My heart has always been open and selflessly disposed to listen, help and support people in need around me.  For the last few days, the situation in Bangladesh has worsened, and is today unfortunately far worse than what I stated in my latest post. I saw many sharing on whatsapp. So trouble!  I must emphasize that there is no place nor time left to discuss crime and killing people. How sad it is that in 2020, we do still have to argue and debate that murdering, killing, torturing, perpetrating genocide towards particular groups of human beings is not acceptable anymore.  Suppressing lives and killing people has never been a solution to our world's complex challenges and issues. The survival of such a belief is a great and very sad tragedy for our world and humanity. Let us gather our energy, ...