Updated 25 August

 

“I would like to be part of an effort to promote unity and peace across the world. I feel that people often see the worst in each other and changing this outlook might help resolve conflicts.”

–Khing Maung Soe, refugee humanitarian

 

“I want to send messages to my people and to the world through my poems. My poems are the real voice of Rohingya women that need to be heard. They too deserve equality.” 

–Shahida, Rohingya refugee

 

“In contrast to those who suggest that we act as soon as the whistle blows, I suggest that, even before the whistle blows, we ceaselessly try to know the world in which we live — and act. Even if we must act on imperfect knowledge, we must never act as if knowing is no longer relevant.”

-Mahmood Mamdani in Saviors and Survivors

 

Too many calls for our awareness
There are many humanitarian hot spots around the world at this moment, and any listing risks being incomplete. Protests in Hong Kong, military tension in Kashmir, Syrian civil war, Venezuelan unrest, persistent power struggles in Somalia, Ebola in the Congo, fires in the Amazon and Siberia, melting glaciers in Greenland and the Arctic, to name a few.

The humanitarian crises generated by human conflict have one thing in common: they all involve some form of ‘othering’ which typically manifests itself as racism. At its extreme, racism can lead to genocidal actions by those who wield power.  When this happens, our collective humanity is being questioned.  How we respond defines us both individually and collectively. All the major Abrahamic religious traditions -at their best- preach that we are all ‘brothers and sisters.’ The question we are faced with is, can -or will- our actions reflect the ‘better angels of our nature’?

Today, August 25, gives us an opportunity to answer this question.

#RohingyaGenocideDay: a day for memories and action
In the spirit of Mamdani’s statement above, let us more thoroughly “…try to know the world in which we live – and act” by learning about the struggle faced by those now living in the world’s largest refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. We need to know the history of the events which forced hundreds of thousands Rohingya to flee their homes, the complexities behind their refusal to accept repatriation plans made by the Myanmar government, and what can be done to show solidarity with these women and men. This solidarity must include helping put pressure on the international community to demand accountability from the Myanmar military for the many atrocities, including gang rapes.

As you read this, there are various gatherings in the massive refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar meant to mark this dark day in the lives of so many. Thousands are gathering, speaking, and seeking amplification of their voices, hoping that the world will hear….and respond.

On this second anniversary of the August 25, 2017 genocide against the Rohingya, we need to know as much as possible so that we -especially those in the minority world (‘global North’)- may act mindfully and proactively. Justice groups -both faith based and non-faith based– from around the world are doing their part to shine a light on the plight of the Rohingya. There is a unified voice saying that the Rohingya deserve a seat at the table as any repatriation decisions are made.

To add some context, the genocide against the Rohingya started decades ago. This most recent event is more extreme both in number impacted and intensity, but it is not new.

Staying informed
To be more informed in a grass roots manner, one can find a wealth of information on Facebook. By following pages like Protect the Rohingya, The Art Garden of the Rohingya, and Danish Refugee Council Bangladesh you can stay up to date with links and comments from all over the world. My series of posts featuring ‘refugee humanitarians’ can give a broad overview that uses and amplifies the voices of the Rohingya youth.

There is no lack of detailed, documented, and informative material about the crisis facing the Rohingya. Winner of the 1999 Nobel Peace Prize, Medicines Sans Frontieres (MSF, aka, Doctors Without Borders) is always comprehensive and typically provides objective insight. This recent NY Times article “Massacred at Home, in Misery Abroad, 730,000 Rohingya Are Mired in Hopelessness”) provides deep background and up to date information. Countless news stories from the UN and other sources fill in critical -and many times shocking- details.

The UN agencies are perhaps the best place to stay up to date. Here are some links, all specific to the Rohingya response:

• United Nations Office for Coordinatiuon of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA)
• UNHCR The UN Refugee Agency
• IOM UN Migration
• World Food Programme (WFP)
• UNICEF

Action points
If you are reading this I must assume you know English and have at least some access to technology. With this knowledge comes responsibility to respond in some way, at least this is my view as a humanist/humanitarian. So, what action points are implied in the above?

At the very least,

• learn more about the situation facing the Rohingya
• inform others both in casual conversation and by using other platforms to which you may have access
• most importantly, act with compassion based on what you have learned

I know from talking with many Rohingya they believe the international community must put greater pressure on the Myanmar (Burmese) government. Making an extra effort to inform those in positions of power (e.g., for those in the USA, your elected representatives and the President).

The US Department of State has issued a statement pushing for action.  It says, in part,

 “We continue to encourage the Burmese government to implement the Advisory Commission’s recommendations, which offer the best path forward for Burma and all the people of Rakhine State, as well as all those who fled.”

That said, the Trump administration is reported to be considering a $4.3 billon cut to foreign aid, some of which goes to the the UN agencies supporting the Rohingya refugee camps in Bangladesh. Concerned citizens both in the US and elsewhere around the world need to hear the cries for support from the Rohingya and urge politicians to act in a way that reflects the fact that all humans deserve justice and access to pathways to dignity, safety, and hope.

I’ll end this post with a poem written for this day by a young Rohingya refugee humanitarian, Ro HM Hairu.

 

Genocide Remembrance Day
By Ro BM Hairu

 

25 August, a red red date
Very traumatic and stricken
On which my parents and siblings’
Blood was poured into a gutter
Where I desperately swam to escape

25 August, a dark dark date
Very unforgettable and remarkable
On which my villagers and
community’s
young and old were burnt into ashes
Where I desperately crawled to escape

25 August, a smoky bloody date
Very anxious and dangerous
On which my village and home
Were razed to the ground
Where I ghastly faced massacre

I have still wounds from bullets
ON my body got during non-stopping firing
The trauma which I got in motherland
The more I try to heal them away from my mind,
The more I become depressed
How can I forget this day from my life?

#2ndAnniversary
#RohingyaGenocideRemembranceDay
#StopGenocideOnRohingya
#WeWantJastice

 

25 August 2017

“The day I can never forget, even in the hereafter.”

–Ro Anamul Hasan

Ro Anamul Hasan, Rohingya poet

Harsh memories
On this #RohingyaGenocideDay, I have been asked to share the voice of yet another Rohingya refugee humanitarian and poet. You can read about other Rohingya poets here. Below you can experience two of Anamul Hasan’s poems, and, scrolling down, you can hear his voice as he explains why he writes.

Like the other young men and women I have profiled, Anamul Hasan is a ‘refugee humanitarian’, and has worked with MSF as an interpreter, the Danish Refugee Council (DRC) doing field visits and data entry for IOM. These international humanitarian organizations are doing a good job, he tells me, though it can never be enough. Like many of his friends, he struggles to make meaning of his life and uses poetry to remember and to lay bare his memories and emotions. His poems are also a cry out to those beyond his crowded world in a refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.

Like the other poets I have met, he feels that reaching out to the larger world may somehow help the Rohingya efforts to be treated with justice and to be able, eventually and under the right conditions, to return home to Burma.

Anamul tells me he had seven family members killed by the military on August 25, 2017, all this taking place in his Burmese village. He barely made it out alive, escaping gunfire, and in the first poem he describes that ordeal in graphic detail. In the second poem he laments the circumstances of his life, none of which have been of his making. He describes his life as being in a prison cell, but having committed no crime.

Anamul and other Rohingya poets are profiled in this Frontier Myanmar article.

Anamuls poem’s

[Note:  With his permission and approval I have lightly edited both poems.]

That Day (25 August)

By Ro Anamul Hasan

That day, 25 August
Scenario pierced my heart like an arrow
You can forget it and the world either
For me, impossible to forget at all
I’m reminded every single second

Non-stop gunfire like hail
I was flat on the ground and laying down
Thundering sound of bullets rip my ears
Fearful mind outcried for help
I never thought I could escape

Environment quieted for a while
When militaries pouring petrol
By gallon containers to every house and set fire
I smelled smoke, lying like a crushed trash
When I looked up, I could see nothing
Just like a cyclone striking the desert
I ran blindly to a safety nearby

I swam in a bloody stream
I ran inside the bonfire
I crawled across paddy field
I ate green leaves, drank salty water
I hid in the bushes, sometimes crouching down
To be out of the hands of Burmese military

The roaring air forbid me not to leave behind
The native land of my ancestrally dwelling
The sweet breeze made me cry
While I was crossing the barbaric fence in the border
Passing clouds averted me for fleeing
My pulsing heart beats to escape
Like waves crashing on the shore

The day I can never forget, even in the hereafter.

 

 

Being Rohingya

1
Tell me why my world is so different from yours?
I grew up in dark circle.

Where should I look for happiness?
Even time has no trace.

Why does the dream melt inside my eyes?
Reality is unauthorised.

My life has no luck. Why are lines of fate
Erased from my hand?

We all have human organs. Am I not the same as you?
The world treats me like some other creature.

Numerous complaints on my lips,
But nobody tunes their ears to listen.

I sent a message once, it reached the sky,
Collided there, echoing, unanswered.

2

I am baited for the hook
By those I trusted the most.
Let the sharks swallow me.

I am target for the rifle-shoot
By those I honoured the most.
Let the shooters kill me.

I am slaughtered in cold blood
By those I obeyed the most.
Let the earth devour me.

I am handed a life sentence
By those I served the most.
Let the cell encircle me.

I am burnt alive in the bonfire
By those I relied on the most.
Let the fire incinerate me.

3

Are all these things about race or religion?
Am I not a human being?
I’ve been enduring all this
Just for being a Rohingya.
I was born in hell.
I was born in the bloodstream.
I was born on the battleground.

I saw on television they had rescued a man.
Many navy boats, helicopters
But not one wooden boat was sent to rescue
Thousands of us drowning in the river.

 

Why write these poems?
Given all the details of his situation, the question arises ‘why write poems?’  Below is a video Anamul sent to me in which he explains his motivation. There are subtitles, but I have also added the text below.

Here is the text in the video above:

“I am Ro Anamul Hasan, a Rohingya refugee, living in the world largest refugee camp, in Cox’s Bazaar, Bangladesh.
‌I compose poems by aiming that how the world can hear our voice and how people can feel like me after reading my poem. For me, poetry is raising voice to the world. As I am under pressure, I’m persecuted, I’m discriminated. All these force me to write something. Also it makes easier to compose poem. So I chose poetry to tell my painful stories to the world through my poems . Perhaps, the world may know what kinds of things are floating inside our minds.”

If you have any questions, comment, or feedback please contact me here (arcaro@elon.edu).

“They are absolutely humanitarians, we couldn’t do anything without them. I am thrilled you are using that term. Using the term ‘humanitarians’ is not only empowering but essential to their sense of identify, resilience and self-reliance. With all the trauma they have experienced in the past, the ongoing protection concerns in the present, and their lack of durable solutions or ability to plan for the future, this is vital in their protracted displacement.”

-Emily Reid, DRC

Honoring volunteer and CFW Rohingya workers as ‘refugee humanitarians’

Humanitarians
There are over 500,000 women and men responding to humanitarian crises around the world. Since 2008, each August 19th humanitarians around the globe observe World Humanitarian Day. The theme for this year’s World Humanitarian Day is #WomenHumanitarians, and stories highlighting the heroic efforts of female humanitarians can be found on the UN web site.

But who are these ‘humanitarians’ being honored? Certainly they include women and men from all over the world working in a dizzying array of capacities, from logistics to security, from drivers to upper management executives, from communications officers to site management specialists. They work for UN agencies (UNHCR, OIM, etc.), with international organizations (INGOs), large and small, or as part of the rich tapestry of national humanitarian organizations (e.g., BRAC).

Most (exceeding 80%) are from the ‘global South’, the majority world, and many of those are all too familiar with the the realities of a life in crisis, having been both giver and receiver or aid at various points in their lives.

Expand the definition?
In addition to #WomenHumanitarians, for this year’s World Humanitarian Day calling attention to another marginalized group is perhaps warranted.

An incredibly complex industry constantly in flux, the humanitarian ecosystem is not precisely defined, especially at the margins; who is and who is not counted as a ‘humanitarian’ is open to question, at least for some.

There has been much written about ‘professionalizing’ the sector, and I agree with those who critique random ‘do-gooders‘ trying to do aid or development work (there are too many egregious examples to cite). I realize that some might interpret even considering ‘refugee humanitarians’ to be a step in the wrong direction, and I grant that point to those critics.  That said, I’ll forge on.

In the last several months I have been learning about the Rohingya refugee emergency and have communicated with over a dozen young men and women, most of whom came to Cox’s Bazar as refugees just after the 25 August 2017 genocide. In my writings I have referred to refugees who volunteer their services to various NGOs as ‘refugee humanitarians.’

By calling refugees that do ‘volunteer work’ or receive ‘Cash for Work’ (CFW) ‘refugee humanitarians’ I am pressing the ‘what is a humanitarian’ question in a different, and I hope meaningful, direction.¹

According to one international humanitarian, Emily Reid, a young woman working as an advocacy advisor for the Danish Refugee Council, although there are many technical and even legal issues using the term in official communications, ‘humanitarian’ fits.

Emily had read the many posts I had made commenting on the poetry and work of several young men and women, Rohingya all (see here), and strongly agreed with my characterization.  See here for a book of recent Rohingya poetry.

When I asked her about my use of the phrase she says,

“They are absolutely humanitarians, we couldn’t do anything without them. I am thrilled you are using that term. Using the term ‘humanitarians’ is not only empowering but essential to their sense of identify, resilience and self-reliance. With all the trauma they have experienced in the past, the ongoing protection concerns in the present, and their lack of durable solutions or ability to plan for the future, this is vital in their protracted displacement.”

DRC is taking the interagency lead on CFW in the Rohingya response in Bangladesh, and in the past year managed approximately 10,000 men and women -refugee humanitarians- in the sprawling complex of refugee camps in and around Cox’s Bazar. These workers are critical for insuring the smooth functioning of the refugee camps, and are engaged in a wide array of jobs from site management (e.g., clearing roadways) to translation services.

 

There are many people who do humanitarian work in the sprawling refugee camps in Bangladesh’s Cox’s Bazar -and places like it all around the world where there are humanitarian responses- who are not recognized as professional humanitarians. For a raft of reasons, the members of the affected communities are hired on a ‘temporary’ basis to help serve, most frequently within the refugee camps where they and their families live. Many times they are paid through a variety of programs, and their hours, work duties, and wages are regulated, determined by agreements between the host government, the United Nations, and representatives from the major aid organizations working on location. Depending upon the local context, these individuals may be employed in a variety of ways. In the recent Cyclone Idai response in Mozambique paid locals were used heavily to help distribute critical emergency aid, for example. In Jordan these workers, referred to as Incentive Based Volunteers (IBV), perform many duties both within and outside of the refugee camps.

In most cases these workers are not covered by national labor laws, and as such there is official push back to these women and men being called anything other than ‘volunteers’. I understand that logic, but at the same time I will argue that the term ‘refugee humanitarian’ is a term worth considering, especially if it means opening discussions about the rights of these workers.

So, on this World Humanitarian Day 2019, let us be inclusive and honor these ‘refugee humanitarians.’

Please let me know if you have any comments or feedback.  Here’s my email (arcaro@elon.edu).

 

^{1 Describing refugees using modifiers is not new. Ibn 1989, thirty years ago, the the ‘refugee warrior’ was used in a book by Ari Zolberg, Astri Suhrke and Sergio Aguayo, Escape from Violence: Conflict and the Refugee Crisis in the Developing World.} 

 

 

 

“I would like to be part of an effort to promote unity and peace across the world. I feel that people often see the worst in each other and changing this outlook might help resolve conflicts.”

–Khing Maung Soe, refugee humanitarian

“Thus, the ultimate choice for a man, inasmuch as he is driven to transcend himself, is to create or to destroy, to love or to hate.”

― Erich Fromm, The Sane Society

Many voices wanting to be heard
In the last two months it has been my great pleasure and honor to meet (via WhatsApp, Skype, FaceTime Messenger, etc.) many Rohingya refugees that now call Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh their (hopefully temporary) home. There are many poets in the camps, both men and women, and even writing groups that meet regularly.

It is safe to say there are many hundreds of Rohingya poets who have collectively written thousands of poems. True, many poems are written just for the cathartic effect, private missives not meant to read read widely or even at all. But the majority of these poems, at least this has been my experience, were written to be shared as widely as possible as calls to the world outside of Cox’s Bazar, and especially to those in the global North living in nations that might have some influence on the situation that gave rise to this refugee crisis. Indeed, these many voices want -need, even- to be heard.

As now a ‘stateless’ people, the Rohingya face a literal existential crisis with no clear resolution. The future appears both dark and unclear for both the entire culture and for families and individuals, especially the young adults as they attempt to create a life of meaning in the artificial world that is a refugee camp. Each in their own way are asking ‘who am I and where do I belong?’ as they question their individual and collective identity.

How do the refugees cope?

In his classic book The Sane Society the social critic Erich Fromm argues that all humans crave meaning in their lives, and part of the search for meaning is driven by a need to have agency, a control over one’s fate, a sense of free will.  For some the need for control can lead to the act of destroying through harming material objects, themselves, or those in the world around them. But for others that need can be sated by the act of creating something, with the former acts being fueled by hate and the latter fueled by love.

In the case of the poets I have featured in my last several blog posts, they show a determination to love themselves and others through creating poems that describe and comment on what is happening to them and other Rohingya, pouring raw emotion into

nearly every line.

Khing Maung Soe, refugee humanitarian
Khing Maung Soe is yet another example of a young person, faced with a life situation that would try the meddle of anyone, who has responded with love given voice through poetry.  This love he demonstrates is directed, to be sure, at his own Rohingya sisters and brothers, but in the same breath he shows a love for humanity; he is reaching out to all, the opposite of a tribalistic call to just his culture-mates.

Khing Maung Soe reached our to me and asked me to help share his poems, his voice. Khing became refugee in very young age, and has been volunteer humanitarian and poet since 2017.

I asked him how he wrote his poems, on paper, a notebook, or on a computer. None of the above was the answer.

“I write my poems on my Android phone and I don’t have computer. My colleagues also write their poems on phones like me. My poems are all in English because when I was in school, I studied five subjects in English and one in Burmes, and I always spent my time studying in English. So, me and my colleagues can write poems in English.”

Why do you write your poems, I asked.

“Because I had felt many many difficulties in my life like boredom and tension. In my refugee life when I see my community and what are they facing, how are they feeling in camp, then I become more upset after seeing them. So, I would like to spread our feelings over all, have the world know about us.

I would like to be part of an effort to promote unity and peace across the world. I feel that people often see the worst in each other and changing this outlook might help resolve conflicts.”

Like most young men and women, Khing has dreams,

“I would like to attend the College or University for four years to receive a bachelor’s degree in but the opportunity is blocked. I want to brighten our future young generation, to find the right direction and make better life.

I want to travel the world and also spend time safe with my family. It is hard to think of what I will be like or look [in the future].  If my dreams do not come true, I would not be upset, as long as I am safe and happy. I want to inspire others, not just through art, but with the way I treat them.

I also hope to do what is expected of anyone in my role and hopefully go above and beyond. I am a unique individual, and I hope that with my unique mix of personality, skills, experiences (whether good or bad), passions that I will add value where I can. My ambition is just to be part of a nation where I can get better opportunity, peace and freedom to be a survivor peacefully in this world. This is not only my aim but also our community.”

In the poems below you will find honesty, hope, vision, and a call to others around the world to hear the voices of the Rohingya, all part of the human family.

 

Khing’s poems

He told me, “I wrote this one on World Refugee Day….”

 

Silent Tear Of Refugee Youths

By Khing Maung Soe

Yes,
We are Refugee
We are human being like others

But we are innocent persons
Being refugee is like prisoner

As we live in the world
But the world is not for us

The more we try to feel peace
The more we become in pain

Yes,
We are Refugee
We are from another country

But
We are un-guilty persons

Involve our name in human list.

Our skins yearn just to feel once like you
Our blood clots just to feel justice and peace
Our hearts excite just to feel freedom.

 

This was his first poem,

Enough Is Enough

By Khing Maung Soe

Every minority has rights.
Our attempts to get our rights back are bright.
But Burmese government has been snatching
them since decades.
Now, enough is enough!

We are also human beings like you are.
We deserve every single human right as you do.
But they are monsters in human looks.
Now, enough is enough!

It is human blood flowing through our veins.
We want to feel peace and love.
But they are fathers of genocide.
Even they don’t spare innocent infants.
Now, enough is enough!

O’ the soil of my motherland!
Here in refugee camps,
The broken wind always reminds us the whiff of your scent.
Every moment narrates your story.
Your absence is like a curse.

Now, enough is enough!

O’ the soil!
Once the fate cheated us.
Now, the dead past seems alive.
The vanished years are filled,
With so-called intent, audacity and bravery
We want to be in your lap again soon.

The Ocean view

By Khing Maung Soe 

Welcome to the wonder of the ocean
Welcome to the majesty of the sea
It’s a place where we can be
Living wild and swimming free
In the wonder world under the sea
You are awesome and hilarious
With all the living creatures and their sparkly glow.
The creature are succumbing because of the pollution,
But delightfully there are people who have come up with a solution.

The feature of the ocean is huge
Your deep eyes and circle are the most unique
You must know more than any of us

Between in and between out
Between north and between south
Between west and between east
Between time and between space

A song come from the shell of the sea
Neither infernally nor placidity
With my innocent heart, I close
The blue, ageless eye of my mind.
And now the green household is dark.
The half-moon completely is shining

Starless and chilly is the night: The sea is foaming,
And over the sea,flat on her belly,
The white children of the waves
So mystical, so magically powerful,
Spring up and dance for joy by wildly drunk.
And swiftly goes through the hurrying night
The fire which was dead at night

Shine over the tides afar,
The shimmers and glimmers so gloriously

She came a long way,
She goes a long way.
At night, the mother should have died,
The young son shall be born.
While the river flows to meet the sea
And make expanse of the ocean bright
The each voice thunder out of the deep blue sky

And the earth resounds with the joy of waves

Poet’s note: She is referred instead of ocean.

 

Luck…!

By Khing Maung Soe

Luck is in you whenever you look
No one can snatch it from you
Alike at a dewdrop or a floating leaf
And know that they are because they have to be.
The world will remain as it has always been.
And the leaf will be carried by the water of the river.

Hope is with you when you believe
There are also the one who have no hope
Even if you close your eyes and dream up things
We and trees throw shadows on the earth.
The earth is not a dream but living folk,
That discern, touch, and hearing don’t lie.
You can’t enter but you’re sure it’s there.

Some people say that we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing just seeming.
You are forgetting, the earth on which you walk
I would open a book and could decipher nothing
Searching more but getting less
Everything occurs too normally
Mine eyes are open but they cannot see for gloom of night:
I can no more than lift my heart to thee for inward light.
And now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderland of death.

See a new horizon every time with your eyes,
Neither what I wished nor what you wished happened
See the long shadow that is cast by the tree.
Embrace every moment with open arms,
I imagine the earth when I am no more
What has no shadow,has no strength to live.
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
What never added up will add Up,
What was incomprehensible will be comprehended.

 

Afterthoughts
As I reflect on Khing’s poems I am reminded of what the social sociologist Theodor Adorno said,

“It would be advisable to think of progress in the crudest, most basic terms: that no one should go hungry anymore, that there should be no more torture, no more Auschwitz [or Gaza or Cox’s Bazar]. Only then will the idea of progress be free from lies.”

Khing choses to create rather than destroy, love rather than hate. He and Adorno share the same vision of what authentic human progress looks like. He, like the other Rohingya refugee poets I have met, is on a quest to turn suffering into a challenge to make his life -and the lives of others- better day by day.  Let us learn from their example.

My nation has had yet more mass shootings in the last few days, and tears are being shed in Gilroy, California, El Paso, Texas, and Dayton, Ohio. The hate that drove the three (all-too-typical) young, white, male perpetrators to kill is toxic and is anti-human. The social chaos brewing in the US is antithetical to progress. These killers are doing the opposite of what Khing and the other Rohingya poets are accomplishing. I’ll repeat: let us learn from their example.

There are those who choose hate in all contexts and cultures, so I must add that yes, there is violence within the refugee camps, and the small number of poets with which I have been in contact of course do not represent the full picture. I’ll not commit the error of blindly romanticizing the Rohingya refugees. That said, their voices are calm, full of truth and emotion, and amply worthy of amplification.

As always, contact me if you have comments, feedback, or anything to add.

 

“Nothing except writing poems can reduce my stress and sadness”.
–Ro Pacifist

 

Refugee/humanitarian poets
The are many poets among the Rohingya refugees ‘temporarily’ living in Cox’s Bazar, Banglasdesh, and the number is growing, especially among the young. Most use pen names, largely doing so as a protection against possible persecution were they to be identified by the Myanmar government which would have power over them in the increasingly unlikely event they were repatriated. That said, there is safety in numbers, and the fact there are more and more Rohingya poets every day publishing on Facebook and elsewhere makes the chance that any one person is singled out less likely. There is very little in their poems of which the world has not already been made painfully aware; the atrocities against the Rohingya are well documented.

These poets sometimes gather in writing groups within the refugee camps, supporting each other’s efforts, all hoping that their words effectively express their emotions and that their sentiments are heard by the outside world. Many I have talked to say that composing poems is a way to identify, clarify, and amplify feelings and memories. The process of writing is in no small part cathartic, allowing for the externalization of internal hurt, confusion, and frustration. It is writing as therapy. It is a means to be heard, and thus have one’s humanity affirmed.  To write is to be. And for the stateless Rohingyas, this is an important, perhaps even heroic, act.

To be heard and be affirmed. That is the wish expressed by every poet I have written about in the last few months.

 

A young writer
I have gotten to know yet another Rohingya writer, Ro Pacifist, a refugee/humanitarian currently working with the Danish Refugee Council (DRC) in Bangladesh. His introduction to me,

“I’m Ro Pacifist, a Rohingya refugee from Myanmar currently surviving in the makeshift settlements of Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.”

He goes on,

“When I feel depressed and discontented with our refugee lives, [when I] see my brothers and sisters are facing so many difficulties with so many things and services in living, and [when I] feel like an ocean of sorrow, then I write poems. I would like my heart-felt emotions to be known to the world people. Indeed, nothing (except my writing poems) can reduce my stress and sadness. I feel absolutely good to know that people from outside countries will like to read my poems because they can know my life story and current ongoing situation.”

I asked Ro how people in the refugee camps spend their days.  The DRC international and Bangladeshi staff humanitarians have worked with the Rohingya to create meaningful and supportive spaces in the camp where Ro lives. He describes it this way,

“Most young men and a few women are interested in working with humanitarian organization (DRC) through which they believe they can provide support to the community as much as they can. And, there are some NGO facilities like “Aged Friendly Space” for elderly care “Women Friendly Space” for women entertainment and “Child Friendly Space” for child care practice to enjoy playing toys and games. Some old people who are interested in politics like to spend their days by group-gossiping and discussing the repatriation issues.”

I asked, ‘What do romantic relationships look like in camp? how is match-making different in the camps compared to back in Burma?’ He responded,

“If compared to back in Myanmar (Burma), the difference between the match-making in the camp and that in Myanmar (Burma) is that we were in fear of arbitrary torture by Governments in our country, but there is no fear of such an arbitrary torture in the camp and we at least feel free from those kinds of tortures.

I have been to many weddings of my friends and relatives in the camp but it is very different from those we had in Burma. Indeed, we are in the valley of sorrow.”

Working with others helps keep Ro busy, and he has been a teacher of English language and skills to Rohingya students for about one year. He encouraged me to share this photo of his class.  He says,

“These are all Rohingya students whom I have been teaching out of my skills and knowledge on education since the first time when we came into Bangladesh. This picture was taken in a celebration, congratulating students with prizes.

 

 

What is in a name?
Pen names are chosen for many reasons.  Eric Blair chose ‘George Orwell’ because it was a ‘good round English name’, for example. I asked Ro about his pen name, “Ro Pacifist”,

“When the conflict happened in 2012, I was a student and old enough to understand the situation of my country. Since then, I have never seen peace in my homeland.  All Rohingya people have been just facing various tortures. I wanted peace for my community and to find how to escape from the tortures. Then, I have become like a peace seeker (pacifist) for my entire community. Finally, as I wished, I updated my name as “Ro Pacifist” which means a peace seeker for Rohingya community. That is how I want people to know me.”

 

And now for Ro’s emotional poems
Below are four of Ro’s poems, each with his signature touch of short stanzas, many issuing challenges to the reader whom he presumes, accurately so, will be more privileged than he.  I find myself reflecting on the fact that I won the life chances lottery and Ro did not, the chance of birth place impacting our lives permanently and profoundly.  His poems demand reflection on our shared humanity and on the capricious and sometimes unfair social forces that shape our lives.

 

“My shelter is my world”

I’m a human being like you
Made up of cells and tissues
With perfect parts of organ in body.

I’m an organism like you
Covered with soft hair or fur
And, Adapted with two hands to touch

I’m a creature of the Almighty like you
With Two legs to step and walk
Two eyes to see
And, two ears to hear and listen.

I’m a warm-blooded vertebrate like you
With same circulation in the heart
same structural nerves in brain
And, skin covered in the entire body
With a tongue to speak
And, a mouth with two lips to say

I’m a dreamer like you
With lots of dreams for future
And, various hopes to achieve in life

But….
I’m like a disabled person
The world is too deaf to hear my voice,
And too weak to offer me a step
Finally, My shelter is my world
That’s is unique to others.

 

“I’m A Refugee”
 
In a small shed of bamboo
Fenced with a tarpaulin,
Covered with plastics,
Roofed with some slice of bamboo,
Under the tree-free sunshine,
I’m spending the life as an illegitimate.
It is because I’m a refugee.
 
From dawn to twilight,
In the rush of carrying,
Kits for shelter, food for meal.
In Summer….!
Under the hot hot sun,
I’m spending the life just on surviving,
It is because I’m a refugee. 
 
In very hostile mountains,
With big jungles and wild animals, 
I’m set up and shifted from place to place
In Monsoon….! 
From twilight to dawn 
I can’t take enough sleep 
Because of the fear of landslide.
Because of the fear of flood. 
I can’t feel enough safe 
Because of the traumas in heart. 
These are all because I’m a refugee.

 

“My wish, My dream”

If I were a human like you 
I would be granted my rights as for human. 
And, I would be grateful to in my eternity, then 
 
If I were a citizen like you,
All inside me would be blooming as a rose.
And, My heart would be complete, then. 
 
If I were independent like you,
I could spend my life as a norm. 
And, I would be contented with my life, then.
 
If I were a free bird like you, 
I would fly on cloud nine as an eagle.
And, I would be a healthy bird, then.
 
If I were a civilian like you, 
I could enjoy my life as under a big shade. 
And, My life would be a flower garden, then.
 
If I were a child like you,
I could enjoy my childhood as a prince.
And, I would be free of depression and stress,then.
 
If I were a student like you,
I could be a graduate and proud as a peacock.
And, I could be a star in the country, then.
 
If I were a fiance of marriage like you. 
I would celebrate my wedding as a happy camper.
And, my cute face would be visible, then. 
 

“Where is my Right?”

You know I am a human being 
But, I can’t feel as a human 
Because I’m deprived of human rights.
 
You know I have my own language 
But, I’m languageless just like “deaf-mute”.
Because I’m not allowed to use my language.
 
You know I have my own religion 
But, I’m like religionless 
Because I’m not allowed to perform my obligations. 
 
You know I have my heart 
But, I’m like a heartless
My heart is not allowed to feel due to trauma.
 
You know I have my state 
But, I’m like a stateless
Because I am not allowed to live in my state. 
 
You know I have my eyes 
But, I am like a blind 
Because I’m not allowed to see what I wish. 
 
You know I have my legs 
But, I am like a handicapped
Because I’m blocked from my movements.
 
You know I have my soul 
But, I am like a doll
Because there is no safety security for life
 
You know I have my ears 
But, I am like a deaf
Because they are bursted by explosions
 
You know I have my tongue 
But, I am like a dumb
Because I am not allowed to freely talk.
 
You know I deserve things like you. 
But, I can belong to nothing
I’m deprived of everything.
Because discrimination on me is ongoing. 
 

Final thoughts on responding to the humanitarian imperative
As a sociologist from the ‘minority world’ I am constantly aware of the privileges given to me, a cis, white, educated, male from the United States (I am not stateless…!). Having gotten to know many young Rohingya poets, I sense very clearly their frustration and, in the end, though we come from very different places I feel we share the same humanitarian goals; we shared an urgency to respond to the humanitarian imperative.  We want to help create and live in a world where everyone is actively encouraged to reach all of their potentials, physical, intellectual, and spiritual. A world where pathways to dignity are free from hurdles and limitations. A world imagined by the authors of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which begins, “Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world.”

As always, please contact me if you have any feedback, comments, or further thoughts.

Update 28-7-19

Shahida is a volunteer and is paid by IOM through the Cash for Food program.  She is featured here in a segment about the recent talks between Myanmas officials and Rohingya refugee leaders produced by Al Jazzera.

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“I want to send messages to my people and to the world through my poems.”

-Shahdia

Refugee/humanitarian, Shahida
In recent posts it has been my honor to present, with comment, poems written by several young Rohingya men, all refugees who have found temporary contract work within the humanitarian sector in Bangladesh.

Long overdue, I now introduce a woman, Shahida.  She describes her command of English “not very good”, but I have
been able to learn a great deal about her through our text conversations and by reading her poems.

Below I present some of her writing and report what I have learned from her.

Here is how she introduced herself to me.

“My name is Shahida. I was born in Irrawaday Division from Rohingya parents. I am 23years old. In 2000, my family was deported to Rakhine state where most of the Rohingya live. In 2012, I graduated from high school but I couldn’t continue my studies and I have to work to support my family. I worked as interpreter at MSF until 2017. In 2017, we had to flee to Bangladesh. I am now living in Bangladesh, in a refugee camp.”

 

Some context
The situation of the Rohingya is complex and has a long history.  The UN and many human rights watch groups has described the Rohingya as one of the most persecuted ethnic groups in the world.  Their plight has no end in sight as the government of Myanmar seems unable or unwilling to respond to international pressures for meaningful, positive actions that would repatriate the many hundreds of thousands of Rohingya IDPs and refugees.  Never intended to be permanent homes, the refugee camps in places like Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh have become long term settlements that some have called open-air prisons.

Life as a refugee can be hard, but as a female Shahdia has grown up in a culture where gender differentiation may be better characterized as gender stratification.  As she describes in her poems, the opportunities afforded women and girls are less than those of the males in the culture. Her life is doubly challenging as both a refugee and a female.  That said, she is a remarkably capable and forward looking young woman, and defies some of the barriers she faces.

Her poems
Translated into English, these poems are necessarily stripped of some of their beauty and subtlety. With that in mind, below are her poems, each with a short explanation.

Shahdia writes,

“My first poem is about daughter. In our society, girls are discriminated, they have to face domestic violence, they need dowry to get married, they don’t have equal chances to learn education. Working at a NGO, I found women and girls discriminated against and ill treated. They always share their feelings with me. So I wrote my first poem.”

 

Being proud of your great daughter

In this world,
Giving birth to a baby daughter should bring more pride
than having the gift of treasures
Because she is more precious than them.

A mother who gave birth to baby daughter
should not be treated as like as she has committed a crime.

And daughters should not be thought as burdens.
They should be regarded as the blessing of God.

 

“Some people in our society (I don’t mean all), if a woman gave birth to a female child, her father-in-law, mother-in-law and relatives including her husband treat her badly. She is thrashed by her husband and constantly harassed for it.”

 

Not a burden but a blessing

Female child is seen as burden
because they have to give dowries for them,
and also girls can’t work.

But in the view of Islam, having a daughter is the blessings of God.

At the age of attending school in childhood,
Please send her to school regularly  
Education that is very important.

Please don’t restrict her and don’t criticize it.
Please don’t say girl needs not education.
Please let her learn and be educated.

“Some of our religious elders have the view that girls do not need education though Islam teaches us that every one must be taught education, it is one of the responsibilities of parents for their children. But in our society, they always try to restrict the girls from going to school, criticize them, and discourage them.”

 

In marriage there should be fairness

When she is grown up,
please don’t arrange her marriage without her consent.
And please don’t force her.
And please let her choose her life partner,
her husband and allow her to reveal her desire
and her own will and let her choose herself.

After her marriage, please don’t treat her like a guest or stranger
at her own home where she was born and grew up
because it hurts her feelings too much
This house is the place where she happily lived and played with parents at her childhood.
The groom who asks for her hand with bridal gifts is the one who follows the religion heartedly.
But, please don’t trade or sell the life of manhood as like as slaves
and don’t degrade yourself.

Like dark ages, please don’t treat your wife like a slave
and stop the domestic violence.
She is also a human being like you.
Be kind to her.
And respect her love.
To build a happy and peaceful world, let us not segregate between male and female
and let us not discriminate between son and daughter.
Let’s treat them equally with love.

She says,

“I want to send messages to my people and to the world through my poems. My poems are the real voice of Rohingya women that need to be heard. They too deserve equality.” 

 

A humanitarian worker
Like many refugees, Shahida has found temporary work within the humanitarian sector. She is currently working as a volunteer for the Site Maintenance Engineering Project (SMEP), a joint earthworks and site preparation project of the UNHRC, IOM, and WFP. She is tasked with helping to supervise the workers and submitting the daily reports; she is paid by IOM through the Cash for Work (CFW) program.

When she is not working, she and some of her friends tend
a garden in the refugee camp. In the evenings she and her friends spend their time cooking, and on recreational activities.

She says,

“We listen to the music and sometimes sing songs and watch movies on smartphones. But, when we were in Burma, women and girls would gather in the moonlight. We would recite Rohingya traditional classical poetry called Holla in Rohingya. But here we can’t gather like that anymore.” 

Indeed, in many ways life is very different in the refugee camps than it was back in Burma. Shahida describes,

“In Rohingya marriage, we sing songs, dance, recite poems and Holla. Here we cannot afford big gatherings and celebration. Births and funerals are the same like back in Burma. But, with funerals, all relatives can’t participate like Burma because we are living in different camps. Travel between camps is restricted.

If we need to have medical treatment, we must get permission of camp in charge. He will give a recommendation letter and we have to show it to the authorities. Birth control and other medications are available in the MSF maternity clinics.

There are many hospitals and dispensaries around the camps but people don’t get proper treatment, so who can afford have to go to private hospital but those can’t afford remain untreated.”

I asked her why there seemed to be more men writing poetry than women and she pointed out that,

“In my community, the rate of illiteracy among women is much more higher than men. So there are more male writers than females”.

She went on to say,

“In the camps, most of the men are jobless and they are uneducated as well. So they marry two or three wives and no one controls them. Most women are facing domestic violence, and there are many divorce cases and health issues in camps. Rohingya children have no future here. There is no formal education system for them. They could be easy preys of traffickers and other self interest groups. I am really worried about their future. They have no hopes.”

This prompted me to ask the #MeToo #AidToo question about sexual exploitation or harassment from the nationals or internationals in the organizations she has worked for.  I was heartened when she said,

“No, there is no sexual harassment by DRC towards women. I have worked at DRC for one and half year. I didn’t find such things. Their international staff are really good.”

Ending our latest conversation she asked,

“Why did the world fail to protect Rohingya people and bring them justice? What should Rohingya do to get justice? What would be the women’s role?”

All good questions, those, and to which I have no easy answers. I do know that human rights are demonstratively and inexorably women’s rights, and that to be a humanitarian is also to be a feminist.

 

My thoughts on Shahida
I opened this post by saying that it was my honor to present the words and thoughts of these Rohingya refugee/humanitarians.  I am touched by Shahida’s words and sensed very clearly an urgency in our conversations, a deep desire to be heard. 

In the short term I will continue to listen to these voices and share as per the requests made by these women and men.  In the meantime, if you have any feedback or questions, you can contact me via email here.

 

Interpreting poetry through word clouds
In my last several posts I have presented the poems of three young Rohingya men, calling them refugee/humanitarians. Here are the links for posts on Arif, Ro (here and here), and Zayed (here and here).

Word clouds as tools
Recent academic research into the use of word clouds indicates that presenting complex text into word cloud form can facilitate critical thinking, and current discussions about the pedagogical/teaching efficacy of using word clouds is both interesting and robust.

Word clouds, of course, are but one tool that can be used to analyze textual content.  That said, using this particular tool on the poetry of Rohingya refugee/humanitarians yielded some stunning results.

Using a basic word art generator I entered the text from all of the poems in my last several blog posts, the emotional words from Arif, Ro, and Zayed.

I chose the shape of the word cloud for obvious reasons, but the content of the word cloud that was produced took my breath away when I saw it.

Meaning emerges
The size of a word in a word cloud is determined by the frequency with which that word appears in the text.

Live. Human. Life.

Looking at the word cloud generated from these poems, those three words jump out. They also present, I feel, the message embedded in these poems, collectively. A desire to live a human life, one with dignity, hope, and promise.

By studying the surrounding words you can see ‘born’, ‘refugee’, ‘killed’, and ‘Myanmar.’

Interpretation
As a social scientist, I know that one must offer many caveats and cautions when interpreting qualitative data.  In this case, the data is a handful of poems written by just three young men. The word cloud above is just one, small data point as the observer searches for an objective understanding of what life is like for refugee.

As I read and re-read all of these young men’s poems I am touched by the raw emotion expressed, much of it a frustration at the fate that has been thrown at them and their loved ones. My hope, and I know their hope, is that the world will listen to their voices and work with them to make it possible to ‘live human life.’

You can contact me here for comment, feedback, or just to reach out.

 

Reaching out with poetry
In my last post I introduced Zayed, a ‘refugee/humanitarian’ working now in Bangladesh. Although he has and uses other outlets, here are two poems Zayed wrote about and for his fellow Rohingya.

Home to Camp

Miles away, rivers apart
Screened off with demarcated fence
Expelled out intentionally
Though lived centuries together.

As a friend
As a brother
As a sister
Concerning to my creed and physique.

Then hunted me as an alien
Oppressed me as different belief
Lost thousands of my people on bloodbath
As Jews faced under Hitler.

No residences to call homes
No people to call neighbours
Like the world without a Sun☀
Chucked me out to another landscape.

Where limited space is designed for all
Like a cage in a million birds
But feels safe here
Where serves humanity.

Rohingya, the survivor

Sound likes thunder rumbling
Went up in smoke my homes
Scream all for the fear
Speeded up for the safety

Seen bodies laying around
The smell of the blood is everywhere
The decayed flesh covered by the flies and insects
Spaces are redden in every step

The undesirable cruelty made me faint
Unable to escape from the killing fields
The shot scar is bleeding on
Neither medic nor medicine

Near the burning homes
Near the killing fields
Shed tears when looks back
My people are on expulsion

Then lost of strength and hope
Too pain to shake my body
Like a mountain over my head
Pass day and night with hypersomnia
As the trauma shocks me unconscious