Today marks the 78th Independence Day of Myanmar, observed on 4 January. On this historic day, it is important to remember that Rohingya Muslims stood alongside the Myanmar government during the struggle for independence. Despite this contribution, the Rohingya people have been unjustly denied their full rights and expelled from their ancestral land.
To demand the restoration of full citizenship and fundamental rights, this event has been organized by the United Council of Rohingya (UCR).
Story and photo By Ro Mohammed Ridowan
The conflict between the Arakan Army (AA) and the Myanmar military junta has created a deadly trap, one in which Rohingya families are forced to suffer, flee and fight for survival. Among them is 19-year-old Rusana, a newly married young woman whose life was torn apart when her husband, Shohid Alam was abducted and killed by the AA.
Rusana, daughter of Mohammed Islam is from MaungNi village (မောင်နီရွာ) in Maungdaw, Arakan State. At just 16, she married Shohid Alam of Paddang village (ပဒင်ကျေးရွာ) in Southern Maungdaw. Shohid was educated, optimistic and determined to build a better future for their family. Their happiness grew with the birth of a baby boy with joy in the middle of rising unrest.
As fighting intensified between the AA and the military junta, nights became sleepless and homes unsafe. “Hoping to escape brutal attacks, we moved to my parents’ house in MaungNi village,” Rusana said.
Weeks later, on 21 July 2024, during Eid-ul-Adha, Shohid traveled to his native village to meet his brother, recently released from Buthidang Jail after unjust imprisonment during the 2017 crackdown. Many Rohingya, including Shohid had been jailed or sentenced without reason and clear evidence of deliberate persecution.
Shortly after leaving, Rusana received a devastating phone call.
“I was told that my husband along with six others was arrested by the Arakan Army while returning to me. Later, we learned they were killed.”
Rusana cried through broken tears
By August 2024, AA artillery assaults targeted Rohingya villages. Rusana’s family fled to Ali Para, seeking temporary safety. But ten days later, the AA captured more than 1,000 people including her family and forcibly gathered them in Pan Taw Phyin village.
They eventually returned to Paddang but arrests of young men became constant. Fearing for their lives, Rusana’s father arranged for the family to cross the Naf River into Bangladesh.
On 15 August 2024, after a dangerous journey, they reached the Bangladesh border. But instead of safety, they were met by gangs of boatmen. “They searched us and took our valuables and even forced me and one of my sisters to be naked. They took 1.5 million MMK and 8.5 ticals of gold hidden in our clothes.” Rusana recounted, “During this abuse, the men in our group were locked away in a dark room.”
With help from a compassionate guide, Rusana and her family eventually reached a relative’s shelter in a refugee camp. Although they escaped immediate danger, new struggles began regarding food shortages, lack of healthcare, insecurity, trauma and the pain of losing Shohid.
Like Rusana, there are many unresearched victims who lost their belongings and family members under the attack of Arakan Army AA. The silence of the world is the dely of justice and peace on Rohingya Muslims in Arakan State in Myanmar.
Edited By Anuwar Sadek
My name is Hakmot Ullah, and I am an 18 years old, the youngest of nine siblings. Today, I study in Grade 12 at Life Destination Community High School in Bangladesh, but my journey began in Myo Thu Gyi village, Maung Daw Township, Arakan State, Myanmar.
Early Life and Education
My father was a respected farmer and cattle trader, while my mother devoted herself to raising us with love and wisdom.
I began my schooling at Myo Thu Gyi Primary School, but everything changed in 2017 when brutal military attacks forced us to flee. Overnight, I went from being a student to becoming a refugee.
Education in Refugee camp
Life in Refugee camp has not been easy, but education gave me strength and purpose. With the help of dedicated teachers like Mr. Jubair and Mr. Rushan Ali, I continued my studies inside Camp-6, Kutupalong. Later, I joined Life Destination High School and Mercy Refugee House, where I found hope again through learning.
My love for Chemistry, Biology, and Physics keeps me motivated. Through determination and hard work, I earned top positions in school, including:
2nd place in Grade 7 (2021)
1st place in Grade 8 (2022)
1st place in Grade 10 (2023)
1st place in Grade 11 (2024)
These achievements are not only mine and represent the strength of every Rohingya student who combat the hunger of education.
Tragic Event in Myanmar
I will never forget the tragedies I witnessed in Myanmar. On 9th October 2016, armed forces attacked our village, killing more than 15 innocent people. Then on 25th August 2017, the genocide forced thousands, including my family, to escape. Many lives were lost, but we survived and my voice never be broken.
Hope for the Future
For Rohingya youth, higher education often feels unreachable. But I refuse to stop trying. My dream is to continue my studies, become a voice for justice, and inspire my community to rise above despair.
” Education is my torch of hope. From the ashes of suffering, I believe a brighter tomorrow can be born.”
“Hakmot Ullah, a dedicated Grade 12 student at Life Destination High School, began his academic writing journey in the classroom, transforming lessons into a path of hope and achievement. This is an original piece of his autobiography life, he himself wrote it to inspire others and deal with his hope of education.”
Words by Anuwar Sadek
Photos by Ayub Khan Dkl
The denial of the Myanmar government has left the Rohingya people deeply concerned as they mark the 8th anniversary of the 2017 atrocities, still holding on to the hope of a dignified return to their ancestral homeland.
Since the country’s independence in 1948, the Myanmar government has systematically excluded the Rohingya from their ancestral lands, stripping them of rights and recognition. Over decades of gradual persecution and orchestrated violence, more than one million innocent Rohingya civilians were forced to flee into neighboring Bangladesh. How can a person survive without land, peace, and dignity? For the Rohingya, 25 August 2017 stands as a dark milestone, the day everything they owned and cherished was destroyed.
Despite living in disorderly, overcrowded refugee camps made of mud and tarpaulin shelters in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, the Rohingya community has not remained silent. They continue to raise their voices for justice and equal rights that were unjustly stolen by Myanmar Government.
“We will never stop raising our voices until our rights are restored,” said Sarwah Shah, 22, a Rohingya youth. “We will never let the Myanmar government or the Arakan Army take advantage of our people and our motherland, Arakan State.”
Eight years have passed, yet the international community has failed to bring justice. Mohammed Ayub, 32, a Rohingya activist, reflected:
“Behind every 25 August lies a drop of tears and heartbreak. It reminds us of our sisters being raped, our children thrown into fire, and our homes burnt by the Myanmar military.”
Ayub also added that to delay justice is not only to ignore genocide but also to silently support the perpetrators in their crimes.
At the same time, the Arakan Army (AA), a Rakhine rebel group has become another source of suffering for the Rohingya, falling like a sudden stone from the sky. While their stated aim is to challenge the Myanmar military, their violence has heavily targeted on innocent Rohingya civilians. Torture, rape, killings, looting, and land seizures have become widespread.
Anuwar Faisal, a private teacher who fled to Bangladesh in 2024, described that the year ” 2024 ” is the worst period in recent memory of Arakan State.
“The Arakan Army conscripted our youths to use them as human shields on the frontlines. They killed more than 5,000 civilians with drone attacks. It was unforgettable.”
For decades, Rohingya Muslims have been denied citizenship by the Myanmar government, effectively confering them stateless. The continued delay in addressing this crisis by the international community only strengthens the hands of the perpetrators and deepens the suffering of the victims.
The Rohingya community urges that silence is no longer an option. The international community must act decisively to end impunity, restore rights, and ensure a just and dignified return for one of the world’s most persecuted peoples like Rohingya.
My name is Muhammad Salim, son of Jahid Hussain and Rajuma Khatun and I am an 18 years old. According to the UNHCR Data based record, there are 12 members in my family. I am the youngest one. I grew up in the Laung Dong Kyung Gaung village ( လောင်းဒုံးကျွန်းဂေါင်းရွာ ), in the northern part of Maung Daw township, Arakan state, Myanmar. However, I have been living as a refugee about eight years in the world’s largest refugee camp in Bangladesh.
Early Life and Education
I was born into a Rohingya family in Myanmar, where our community has long been marginalized and persecuted. My father was a legendary tailor, well known both in voluminous Boli Bazaar and my village while my mother was a dedicated housewife. As a boy, I spent my days playing with my childhood friends, building small shelters with pieces of bamboo and cane, and torn tarpaulin, and enjoying all kinds of games.
However, I was curious, disciplined child and loved learning. I attended kindergarten at Kyung Gaung Primary School in Myanmar. Unfortunately, in 2017, I was forced to flee my homeland with my family after a horrific attack on Rohingya Muslims by the Myanmar Militaries. Arriving in Bangladesh gave me a miserable identity “Refugee” but I have not lose hope. I still carry a big dream in my heart.
At first, my elder brother, Mr Ruhul Amin, taught me from Grade-1 to Grade-8 at my shelter located in Camp-6, Kutupalong. His teaching techniques are truly astonishing. Later, I continued my learning journey in a private organization called ” Mercy Refugee House” funded by Mr Joseph Namin. After studying there for almost 2 years, I enrolled at Life Destination High School in Grade-9. Since 2023, my dream has been moving forward, and soaring like a flower in bloom and emitting the flames brightly to reach achievement one day.
Career and Achievements
In my educational journey, I have been facing with the harsh reality of limited opportunities for Rohingya students in both Myanmar and Rohingya refugee camp. In 2023, through sheer determination and hard work, I secured 2nd position from all of the camps in Cox’s Bazaar, Bangladesh in an “Essay and Letter Writing Competition” organized by Rohingya Youth Initiative-RYI.
Furthermore, by the grace of almighty Allah, I secured first position in Grade-10 at Life Destination High School, as well as being first overall among all students (တစ်ကျောင်းလုံး ပထမ) in the academic year 2024-2025. And also I secured first position in the “Mercy” school. Similarly, I secured first in my all grades. I am excited about my future and look forward to achieving even greater success in my academic pursuits.
Challenges and Struggles
In my mother land, Myanmar, the challenges I faced that put my life and well-being at risk and was subjected to persecution and discrimination by the Myanmar governments and forced to flee to the bordering country, Bangladesh in search of safety and security.
On 10th October 2016, when I was going to school in Myanmar, a sudden military team, facing me directly and asked me stubbornly and ferociously “Does your father involve in any related armed group?” I was shocked and replied with mega confidence “No”. Then, they continued in searching innocent Rohingya in my village to accuse them armed. I overheard that they were shooting into my village on and on and again and again too.
On 25th August 2017, the genocide committed against Rohingya Muslims, Arakan State, northern part of Myanmar. The world described it as a “textbook example of ethnic cleansing” was a systematic campaign of violence and persecution. These included mass killings, rape, torture, and the burning of villages. Countless men, women, and children were brutally murdered, while I and my family were forced to flee our home and seek refuge in neighboring country, Bangladesh.
Final hope
Striving for higher education for Rohingya students is not an easy task. All the opportunities of the further education have no keys to open but I remain focused on my goals and working tirelessly to achieve till reaching it. My story serves as a testament to resilience and determination of the Rohinhya community, who continue to grab for a better future despite the odds stacked against them.
I expect that my academic journey inspires other Rohinhya students to never give up on their dreams and to always keep fighting for a brighter future.
Finally, my journey as a Rohinhya student has been filled with ups and downs, and challenges and triumphs. Despite the obstacles I have faced, I remain committed to using my education to make a positive impact on the world. I will continue to work towards achieving my goals, advocating for justice, and equality for all.
“Mohammed Salim is one of the most dedicated and talented students in our school. His focus is to pen out in writing the other contents and also his own autobiography. “
Words by Anuwar Sadek and Sayedul Amin
My name is Sayedul Amin, son of Kamal Hossain and Noor Foraz. I am 17 years old and one of nine members in my family. I was a student in Kyet Yoe Pyin (ကြက်ရိုးပြင်), Northern Maungdaw Township, Arakan State, Myanmar. Life was simple and peaceful, closely tied to nature. I was in grade 2 when I was still in Myanmar. Though our life was small, our hopes were big.
But how could we ever imagine that we would be forced to search for safety from a land that had suddenly become a graveyard, destroyed by the brutal operations of the Burmese military?
On 11 October 2016, my life changed forever when the junta began its campaign of discrimination and violence. It all started on 9 October, when an armed operation began moving from Hawarbil village (ကျီးကန်ပြင်) toward our village, Kyet Yoe Pyin. On that day, some of my neighbors were killed by gunfire, young and old, without distinction. Others were taken by Burmese soldiers, and to this day, there is no news of them. Tears became our closest companion. Fear flowed like a stream. Our land became venomous, yet hope still lived in our hearts.
On 12 October 2016, we made the painful decision to leave our home. I felt like a motherless child. “Where will we go?” my father asked through tears. No one wanted to leave, but we had no choice. We left behind everything—our belongings, our memories with carrying only fear in our hearts and a faint hope for survival.
That night, we reached a house not far from our village. We spent the whole night hearing gunfire, like rain falling on our fears and the mosquitoes were only night guards. The next morning, the military began going door to door. We hid in silence. The soldiers shouted, “Where are you? Come fight us!” Our hearts felt like they were breaking into pieces, like a landslide falling into sand. We silently wept. Everyone prayed, “Oh Allah, Oh Allah.” After about an hour, the soldiers moved to another home. As soon as they left, we escaped.
Behind us, houses began to burn. Nearly 1,500 homes were destroyed in our village, including the market. We moved from village to village, desperately searching for safety. Gunfire echoed from the north. Everyone took shelter in the paddy fields and under the open sky. As we ran, the cries of the people and the sounds of bullets followed us.
A small stream with a strong current blocked our path. In the grief struck like an earthquake, I lost sight of my parents and other family members. I didn’t know how to swim. My heart broke again. Luckily, a villager heard my cries and helped me cross.
On 15 October 2016, I reached Kya Gon Ton village (ကျားခေါင်းတောင်ရွာ), where by some miracle, I found my family again. But the villagers there were also filled with fear and sorrow. My father, crying as he hugged me, said, “This is the end of my life.” One of my uncles suggested us to ahead to the mountains for safety. But soon, another idea gave us more hope, “It’s better to move to Bangladesh.” He added.
So we began our journey. Along the way, we were hungry, exhausted, and afraid. When we finally reached the border, gunfire broke out again. We were forced to stay one night near the border. That night, grass became our bed, leaves became our food, and melted dew became our water. Mosquitoes were our only companions and their relentless buzzing kept us awake. Many people died that night. I thought: “This stream is their grave, and the fish are now their friends.”
At dawn, we crossed the border into Bangladesh, paying 25,000 MMK per person with the money my parents had saved back home. On 22 October 2016, we reached our final destination: the Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh.
Now, I live as a refugee without home, land, or happiness. I am like a fish without water. A baby without a mother. A bird without a nest and the shelter I sleep in at night is full of mosquitoes and doesn’t allow me a peaceful sleep. I don’t have access to higher education. Sadness is my closest friend in the camp. Yet despite everything, I continue my studies. I currently study in grade 9 at Life Destination High School in Camp 6. I am trying to build a better future, InshAllah (God willing).
My final request to the world is this: Please open your eyes to the Rohingya crisis. Bring us justice. And ensure that Rohingya children like me—have the chance to access higher education.
Note:
Sayedul Amin, a grade 9 students, begins sharing his life struggle through his pen after receiving the recent Beginning Writers’ Workshop organized by Life Destination High School.
Words by Anuwar Sadek and Abul Kayas
My name is Abul Kayes, and I was born on July 2, 2002, in a village called Yea Mea Toung, nestled in the green hills of Northern Maungdaw, in Arakan State, Myanmar. My family is big with my parents, four brothers, eight sisters, and me. We lived a life of simplicity and closeness, where love was stronger than hardship. My father, Nur Korim, now 73, is a man of deep thought and quiet strength. My mother, Sara Khatun, now 48, is the heart of our home, resilient, selfless, and full of courage.
Our village was more than a place. It was a world. I remember waking up to the sounds of birds and the smell of fresh rain within the romantic scene as I felt like a prince in a kingdom made of bamboo, sunlight, and family.
But on 25 August 2017, when I was just 15, everything changed. The sound of gunfire from the Burmese military thundered over the skies like crashing icebergs, shattering the calm and scattering our world into trauma. I remember the fear before I understood the reason. Rumors of violence spread like wildfire: soldiers were coming. Villages were burning. People were disappearing. And then, it came to us. That night, none of us could sleep. All of my parents’ remaining belongings including jewelry were buried under the ground for safety. My mother held onto 500,000 MMK, but it didn’t last. Some of it was spent during our escape, and the rest was given to the poor as an act of generosity even in hardship. My father quickly reached out to his brother, Habib Ullah, who supported us by sending 100,000 MMK after selling fish from my father’s lagoon.
One night, under a moonless sky, we packed whatever we could carry that were some rice, clothes, and food. Before leaving, we fed our cows and pets, hoping they’d survive without us. But they didn’t touch the food. They seemed to know. We cried as we walked away from everything we had ever known.
On 27 Aug 2017, we made our way to Kyet Yoe Pyin ( ကြက်ရိုးပြင် ) where one of my sisters lived. Her family joined our escape. Along the way, we lost Jesmin, my sister, in the chaos. She had run ahead. It took hours to find her in a nearby village. By then, our home had burned to ash.
We moved another village called Kiyan Bong where we took shelter but sometimes we needed to sleep beside the village, in the paddy fields and hidden inside the bushes because the fear of Militaries’ gunshots didn’t allow to stay at proper place or sleep. My mother had cooked Qurbani meat for Eid just the day before we fled. “It is our last proper meal as a family.” My mother said with tear.
We again reached Shil Khali village. I remember carrying 2–3 kilograms of rice and the last 2,000 kyat we had. I bought onions and chilies from a nearby shop. Jesmin made a thin soup that warmed our empty stomachs and tired souls.
On 3 Sep 2017, we crossed the Naf River into Bangladesh, but a new challenge awaited us. The boats were too small to carry our entire family together, so I and one of my brothers boarded one boat, while the rest of our family, including my parents, were placed on another.
During the crossing, the crew on our boat took everything we had important documents, supplies, and personal belongings. It was a cruel moment when we were already at our most vulnerable. Thankfully, the rest of the family had managed to carry 100,000 MMK which my Uncle sent to my parents and paid the fare for their boat.
We arrived on the other side with exhausted, broken, and afraid hearts. But then something unexpected happened. The Bangladeshi people welcomed us with kindness. They gave us water, food, and shelter. For the first time in weeks, we felt the warmth of human compassion again.
Jesmin got lost once more in Hansur Para, a village in Bangladesh, waiting on the roadside. When we finally found her, we smiled. It was the first smile I’d seen on my parents’ faces since we left Myanmar. We stayed there for three days, then moved to Kutupalong Refugee Camp in Cox’s Bazar, now the largest refugee settlement in the world. My eldest sister’s husband paid the 2,500Tk for our transport. It wasn’t easy, but we were safe.
My parents, even in their grief, encouraged me to keep studying. I enrolled in informal classes and managed to complete Class 10 while living in the camp. It was not just about education and it was survival. Learning became my rebellion.
My mother, with almost nothing, found ways to support me. She sold lentils, rice, and potatoes, earning barely 500 taka a month, just enough for pens and notebooks. Her hands were worn, but her faith was unshaken. ” You don’t need to be afraid of your study is being lost till I am alive.” She encouraged me
I also studied Arabic and Urdu on my own. I wanted to speak with dignity, to write with power. Every new word I learned felt like reclaiming something the world tried to take from us.
When I was 16, I met a man named Soyed Korim. He told me to write a CV, a simple piece of paper that would change my life. I applied for a job, and by the mercy of Allah, I was hired as a Case Management Volunteer with CODEC on November 6, 2019.
It was the first time I felt I had a role in the world again. Since then, I’ve worked to help other refugees, children like me, families like mine, who lost everything but hope. Life is still hard. Our salaries are small. We fall sick often. But we are human, and we still dream. We still believe
This story is not just mine. It is the story of the Rohingya people, a story of sorrow, strength, and survival. We were born in a storm, but we are not broken.
“Hope grows in the soil of pain. And education is the light that breaks through the darkness.”
My parents once dreamed I would become a surgeon. Today, I dream of studying at Stanford University. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I know that I will keep learning. I will keep helping. I will keep dreaming. of Because we may be refugees in the eyes of the world. But in the eyes of Allah, we are not forgotten.
Note:
Abul Kayas recieved the recent writing workshop and begins writing on real stories including his own one.
We are proud of seeing our Beginning Writer’s Workshop is playing an essential part of growing too many talents.
Life Destination High School
By Anuwar Sadek
Persecution, killings, imprisonment, torture, forced labor, movement restrictions, and many other forms of oppression against the Rohingya minority by the brutal Burmese government are not new. These atrocities have been ongoing since the early years following Myanmar’s independence from British colonial rule. Most recently, a new armed group claiming authority—the so-called Arakan Army (AA)—with terroristic intentions of ethnically cleansing the remaining Rohingya Muslims from Arakan (Rakhine) State, has reportedly killed more than 5,000 civilians across Maungdaw, Buthidaung, Rathidaung, and other regions.
For a single Rohingya, trying to live a normal life has become like surviving in a battlefield that feels more like a graveyard. Can anyone truly understand what it means to live with the constant fear of death, without access to even the most basic necessities? It is not easy—perhaps impossible—for any human being to survive in such a condition.
Due to the unbearable persecution inflicted by the Burmese government, the Rohingya people have endured multiple waves of forced exodus—each one a desperate search for a place where they can live without the fear of being killed. These journeys have repeatedly ended in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, where over a million Rohingya now take shelter and survive under more humane conditions. The warm hospitality extended by the people and government of Bangladesh will never be forgotten. It is an act of humanity that deserves eternal gratitude—and surely, divine reward.
According to the United Nations, more than 122.6 million people have been forcibly displaced worldwide. Among them are the Rohingya, driven from their ancestral homeland of Myanmar. Being a refugee does not strip a person of their humanity. Refugees still carry hope, emotions, anger, decisions, feelings, and dreams—just like anyone else. But all of these are suppressed, locked away under the label of “refugee,” often treated like prisoners in cages.
Have you ever truly noticed how emotionally shattered a refugee can be? Have you heard the silence of their unheard voices? They live like birds in a cage—unable to fly, speak, or be free.
Countless Rohingya activists, diaspora leaders, camp-based organizations, youth leaders, elders, and women have tirelessly tried to make their voices heard by international institutions such as the ICC, ICJ, and OIC. But the world often listens without responding. Is it not the responsibility of these international bodies to ensure equal justice for vulnerable communities like the Rohingya? If not—then what is the purpose of international justice at all?
Life Destination School 