A Young Life Interrupted

There is nowhere to go. Some days Tasmina sits in the same spot inside her family’s hut for hours.

She watches the shadows dance along the plastic sheets serving as a makeshift roof. She both wishes for and dreads the rain that will break the heat. From inside the hut, she can hear those on the outside seeking shelter from the downpour.

She listens to the sounds of refugee camp life surrounding her. Instead of feeling jealous of life on the outside, she just wants quiet.

She wants to relive what her days were like before.

Life in Maung Nu

Tasmina lived in a large compound with her parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. For some special occasions and holidays, she and her best friends got together in each other’s backyards. They planned what kinds of cake and snacks to share.

At 13, she was largely shielded from the hardships faced by the Rohingya residents of her village, Maung Nu. The restrictions on the daily life of the Rohingya began before Tasmina was born, but they had recently gotten worse. Burmese authorities limited travel outside the village and stopped youth from receiving higher education. The authorities introduced a curfew that meant Rohingya could no longer leave their homes for evening prayers.

Still, Tasmina’s family worked hard to ensure she lived a normal life. She looked forward to celebrating New Years. She spent all of her free time with Lalu and Tatu, friends she affectionately referred to as her “big sisters.”

August 27, 2017

On the morning of August 27, 2017, the Burmese military entered the village of Maung Nu. Tasmina’s life changed forever.

Soldiers killed Tasmina’s uncles. She and her parents and aunts were able to escape. They joined neighbors, teachers, and friends walking toward an unknown future in Bangladesh.

They left behind their burning homes and the bodies of loved ones.

Life in the Camps

She no longer sees friends at school. There are no schools for teenage girls in the refugee camp where she and her family have temporarily settled in Bangladesh.

The last time she saw Lalu and Tatu was before the raid on her village in 2017. If she could see them now, she wonders what they’d have to talk about. “I could ask how they are, and I know that they are not happy,” she says. “I could tell them that I will visit them, but there’s not much else we could talk about.”

She lives in this room 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is her imaginary school, her home, her world. Though she is never alone, not even for a moment, she feels completely isolated, caged. Her parents rarely allow her to leave the hut because they fear potential predators in the overcrowded camps.