Dr Chris James

I’m S RH Shofique, a young Rohingya  activist committed to raising awareness about the struggles, rights, and voices of the Rohingya people. I am part of  a new generation of leaders  who strive for justice, dignity, and peace for our community. I was born in Rakhine State, Myanmar, but I was forced to flee my homeland due to persecution. I’ve spent most of my life in the world’s largest Refugee Camps-Ukhiya, Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh.

The Rohingya Crisis:

Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh face serious challenges, including overcrowding, lack of basic services, health risks, and limited access to education and livelihood opportunities. These difficulties are worsened by the fragile state of shelters, especially during the monsoon season.  Added to this, there has been a rise in violence and insecurity within the camps in recent times.  The forced displacement of Rohingya Muslims from Myanmar to Bangladesh  presents urgent humanitarian issues that demand a multifaceted solution. At the core of the crisis lies the Rohingya’s statelessness and persecution in Myanmar, which has led to large-scale displacement and immense suffering. The solution must prioritize the Rohingya’s rights, dignity, and safety, including voluntary, and sustainable repatriation to Myanmar.   The root cause of the crisis must be addressed. The Rohingya crisis is deeply complex. The humanitarian emergency is rooted in a long history of discrimination and fueled by ongoing human rights violations. Addressing this crisis requires tackling the root causes of the statelessness and marginalization. The Rohingya  are not recognized as citizens of Myanmar so their ability to rebuild their lives with dignity and security doesn’t exist. The statelessness of the Rohingya is a central issue in their ongoing crisis.

It is crucial to empower the Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh through education, vocational training, and livelihood opportunities. This reduces their dependence on aid and prepares them for a safe return in the future. The Rohingya are a predominantly a Muslim ethnic minority who have lived in Myanmar for hundreds of years. They have been denied citizenship in Myanmar, making them stateless and leading to systemic discrimination and persecution.

Strengthen Protection and Resilience: The refugee camps in Bangladesh face numerous security threats, including violence between groups and the risk of exploitation and trafficking. There is an urgent need to strengthen the protection and resilience of Rohingya refugees, especially for women, children, and vulnerable individuals, by addressing gender-based violence, exploitation and ensuring child protection. Refugees also face limited opportunities to earn a living, contributing to food insecurity and financial instability.

My activism is not just about survival- it’s about building a future where Rohingya youth are empowered, educated, and equipped to shape their own destinies. I work to amplify the voices of the unheard, to bring global attention to the plight of the Rohingya people, and to ensure that our generation is not lost to the shadows of injustice.

Ashes in the Wind: How Fire Is Quietly Consuming the Lives of Rohingya Refugees in Cox’s Bazar.

By Anower Solim | Photograph by Anower Solim.

In the winding alleys of the Rohingya refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh, the word home carries no warmth. It’s not a place of comfort but a fragile structure of bamboo, tarpaulin, and constant fear. Here, fire doesn’t just destroy shelters. It devours childhoods, memories and the last threads of dignity.

In recent years, Camps 1, 5 and 8 have been engulfed by recurring fires, each blaze more brutal than the last. The ashes they leave behind are not just remnants of structures, but the quiet burial of dreams never allowed to take shape.

Aftermath in Ashes – Sunset Over Camp 1.
As the sun dips low behind the hills of Camp 1, its golden light brushes over the blackened earth. Silhouettes of survivors move slowly through the wreckage, some searching for belongings, others just standing still stunned by the silence that follows a fire.

Women Salvaging Burnt Rice.
In a corner of what used to be a kitchen, women kneel in the ashes, their fingers slowly sifting through burnt rice. Their eyes tired but steady, speak of a pain too familiar. These images are not just of grief, but of survival, steeped in quiet resilience.

Children’s classrooms were reduced to smoke and rubble. The few books that survived were half-burnt and unreadable. Yet, within hours, Rohingya youth volunteers and emergency workers were already helping the wounded, distributing plastic sheets, and organizing shelters from nothing.

Camp 1: A Fire on a Day of Peace (December 25, 2024).

It was Christmas Day, a holiday for many, a day of rest for some,  but peace didn’t last long. A sudden stove explosion around noon triggered a firestorm in Camp 1 that claimed two lives, injured several others, and destroyed over 500 homes.

Mass Displacement After Fire.
Thousands stood under a harsh winter sun, clutching pots, buckets, and rolled-up mats, the only items they could carry before the fire consumed everything else. Their eyes, wide with disbelief, turned empty fields into emergency homes.

This wasn’t the first time a fire had caused damage, and they feared it wouldn’t be the last.

Camp 5: A Winter Morning Torn Apart (January 7, 2024).

It began before dawn on a cold January morning when most were still wrapped in blankets, whispering morning prayers or lost in sleep. Within minutes, flames tore through the narrow paths of Camp 5, fueled by dry tarpaulin, gusts of wind, and helplessness. Nearly 1,000 shelters turned to soot. More than 5,000 lives were displaced in one cruel sweep.

Camp 8: The Fire the Camp Will Never Forget (March 22, 2021)

The 2021 blaze in Camp 8 was apocalyptic in scale. It swept through entire blocks, jumping over narrow lanes like a beast with no end in sight. By the time the last flames were put out, 17,000 shelters were gone. Nearly 50,000 people had lost their homes. Fifteen lives were confirmed lost. Four hundred were never found.

It was a catastrophe that made global headlines for a moment, but not enough to change the future. Humanitarian groups called it a camp-wide emergency. Survivors called it another beginning from zero.

To this day, many still sleep in makeshift shelters, their previous lives buried beneath unmarked ashes.

A Crisis Repeating Itself

These fires are not random accidents. From 2021 to 2022 alone, more than 200 separate fire incidents were recorded across the camps. In many cases, suspicions of arson lingered, but rarely were investigations followed through. Overcrowded shelters, cooking in unsafe conditions, flammable construction materials and a severe lack of firefighting resources have created a tinderbox waiting to ignite.

What’s most heartbreaking is the sheer predictability of it all. Everyone knows it will happen again. And yet, the world watches in silence.

Hope Among Ruins

Walk through the aftermath of any fire in the camps and you’ll find more than ruins. You’ll find people rebuilding. Children drawing letters on the ground where classrooms once stood. Men collecting bent tin sheets to reshape. Women sharing what little food remains with others who lost more.

There is sorrow in every corner, but also a quiet defiance. The Rohingya are not only survivors of fire, but they are also the survivors of abandonment, of erasure and of silence. And still, they rise up brave and confident.

Conclusion:  We Burn and Still the World Is Silent.

Each time the flames return, the Rohingya are reminded that they are still stateless, still unwanted, still unseen and unheard. Fires don’t just consume shelters. They consume the illusion that someone, somewhere, might intervene.

These fires speak for the forgotten. They cry out for justice, for protection, for dignity. But, more often than not, their voices are lost in the smoke.

Before the next fire writes another tragedy, it’s time for the international community to stop offering condolences and start offering action. The Rohingya don’t need more sympathy. They need safety. The need help.

Author’s Note: I am Anower Solim.

This piece of writing is not just a collection of facts, it is a reflection of my lived experience. As a Rohingya youth born stateless and raised inside the world’s largest refugee camp, I write with the hope that my story and the stories of my people will not be forgotten. This is a window into the daily survival we endure in Cox’s Bazar. I invite you to read with empathy and I ask you to listen with heart.

Trapped in the World’s Largest Refugee Camp: A Rohingya Boy’s Account of Daily Survival in Cox’s Bazar
By Anower Solim

I still remember the day we crossed the border into Bangladesh. The sun was hot, the earth beneath my feet felt foreign and my heart carried a heaviness I didn’t yet know how to name. It was 2017. Violence had chased my family and I from our village in Maungdaw township, Rakhine State, Myanmar and like over a million others, we found ourselves in Cox’s Bazar. This sprawling refugee camp has since become our reluctant home, a place where life feels more suspended than safe.

A Shelter but Never a Home.

In the camps, our lives are boxed into limits. Quite literally. Each family is allotted a bamboo-and-tarp shelter measuring only 9 by 12 feet regardless of how many people live inside. Families grow but shelters don’t. Nights are sleepless, privacy is nonexistent and the air inside often feels too thick to breathe.

We are fenced in with barbed wire and denied the right to move freely. Stepping outside the camp requires permission we rarely receive. Higher education remains a dream, not a right. The camp may offer temporary safety but it does so at the cost of liberty, growth and dignity.

When Hunger Becomes the Norm.

Every month, we receive food aid from the World Food Programme. It’s barely enough. In fact, due to funding shortages, rations have dropped to the equivalent of just $6 per person per month. Imagine trying to feed an entire family with that.

Some families manage to scrape together a little extra by working for NGOs or running tiny shops in the camp’s makeshift markets. But for many, that’s not an option. Desperation pushes people toward darker paths selling drugs, gambling even becoming involved in human trafficking. Not because they want to but because poverty and hopelessness leave them with no other choices.

Living Without the Basics.

Sanitation is a daily battle. On average, one latrine is shared by around 37 people and sometimes more. Water isn’t always clean or accessible and healthcare is underfunded and overwhelmed. I have seen pregnant women give birth in overcrowded clinics or worse on the floors of their shelters. Disease spreads quickly when hygiene breaks down and many suffer in silence.

Recently, several health facilities shut down due to aid cuts. This has left thousands, especially the elderly and chronically ill without even the most basic medical support. If you fall seriously ill in the camp, your options are heartbreakingly few.

The Rise of Desperation.

Without legal status or work permits, Rohingya men and women are effectively locked out of formal employment. Over time, this has fostered an underground economy, one riddled with crime and risk. From 2017 to 2022, it has been estimated that more than 2,400 crimes were recorded in the camps with over 1,600 related to drugs.

These are not isolated incidents. They reflect a larger truth: when you deny people access to safety, purpose and opportunity, some will turn to whatever means they can to survive. Gangs take root. Arms and narcotics pass through like whispers. And all the while, the majority of us who long only for peace live in fear and under suspicion.

Growing Families, Shrinking Space.

As families expand, space does not. Children are born into cramped shelters and nothing changes to accommodate them. There is no room to grow physically, emotionally or intellectually. The result is a suffocating sense of stagnation. You exist but you don’t truly live.

I know families where four generations share one shelter. Teenage girls without privacy. Elders with no rest. Babies who wake not from hunger but from the sounds of the night: the wind against the tarp, the arguments next door, the echoes of hopelessness.

Where Light Still Breaks Through.

And yet, somehow, we hold on.

Community members volunteer to teach younger children. Women form support groups. Some youths like me have been lucky enough to complete education programs run by Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee (BRAC) University or other NGOs. I have completed Class 12 from Community School and graduated Refugee Higher Education Access Program-RhEAP from BRAC University’s Center for Peace and Justice, a program I will always be grateful for.

These may seem like small victories to the outside world but here, they are lifelines.

What Needs to Change.

To break this cycle of survival without hope, we must take bold and urgent action:  We must

1. Ensure consistent humanitarian aid especially for food, water and medical care.
2. Grant access to legal employment so families can become self-reliant.
3. Allow movement outside the camp for education, work and dignity.
4. Strengthen community safety by addressing root causes of crime and trafficking.
5. Expand educational opportunities beyond basic literacy and offer real futures.

Not Just Statistics.

Too often, refugees are reduced to numbers in media reports. But behind each number is a face, a name, a story. I am Anower Solim. I was born in Myanmar. I am a son, a student, a youth leader. And I am not invisible.

This is not just my story, it’s the story of every Rohingya mother trying to cook dinner on an empty stove, every father who wakes up wondering how to feed his children, every youth dreaming of a classroom he is not allowed to enter.

We are here. We are surviving. But we are also dreaming, hoping and fighting for the right to live full lives again.

Anower Solim is a Rohingya youths leader, writer, poet and documentary photographer based in Cox’s Bazar refugee camp, Bangladesh. He is the Co-founder and President of the Rohingya Empowerment Network (REN) and serves as a Teaching Assistant at the Center for Peace and Justice, BRAC University. Anower is also a contributor to Rohingyatographer Magazine where he shares visual and written stories from within his community. His work is grounded in advocacy, storytelling and education, driven by a belief that the Rohingya people deserve dignity, justice and a future beyond survival.

Ro Anis Hla Myint is with UNICEF Bangladesh and

2 others

at Cox’s Bazar- The Worlds Largest Refugee Camp.

I visited a learning centre in the Rohingya refugee camps today. Even with all the struggles these children face, one quiet moment stayed with me.

A group of children sat together, looking up at the sky through the open roof. They were calm and deep in thought. You could see the pain in their eyes—the stress, the hardship. But in that quiet moment, they were thinking deeply.

Their teacher told me they weren’t just watching the clouds. They were thinking about life skills—how to heal, how to cope, how to build a better future. Skills for peace, for understanding, and for living in a world that has not been kind to them.

That simple act of looking at the sky showed something powerful—their strength. Even after everything, they still want to learn, grow, and dream of a better life outside the camp.

It reminded me how important safe spaces are for learning, healing, and simply being.

These children carry so much pain, but they still look up. They still hope. They still want to learn.

A note from the author: 

My story:                                                                                                                         

“I Was in Fourth Grade When My Classroom Disappeared”

A Rohingya Youth’s Reflection on Education in Exile
By Anower Solim

I still remember the classroom I left behind. I was in Grade 4 in Maungdaw, sitting near the window of our village school, quietly dreaming of one day becoming a teacher. But dreams, for Rohingya children like me are fragile things.

In 2017, everything changed. Violence, fear and flames forced my family to flee our home in Myanmar. Like thousands of other families, we crossed the border into Bangladesh with almost nothing: no books, no papers, no idea what the future would hold.

I lost my classroom that year. And for a long time, I thought I had lost my chance to learn too.

Even Before the Camps, Doors Were Already Closing

Many people don’t realize that our exclusion from education didn’t start in the camps. It started long before inside Myanmar.

Before 2012, some Rohingya students could complete high school but almost no one could go further. After 2012, the restrictions tightened even more. Rohingya were banned from public universities. Many of our schools were closed or burned. Our teachers were pushed out and we were not allowed to travel freely to other areas to continue our studies.

Even brilliant students, those who dreamed of becoming doctors, engineers, or public leaders were left with nothing but their dreams and disappointment.

I was too young then to fully understand what was being taken from us. But by the time I arrived in the refugee camps, I knew what I had lost.

Learning in Pieces, Teaching Myself by Moonlight

When I first arrived in Cox’s Bazar, I believed naively that school would start again soon. A few months maybe. But months turned into years.

I didn’t attend formal school again. Instead, I studied through scattered opportunities: elders in the community would sometimes teach children under plastic tarps. I attended short, basic lessons in NGO-run learning centers. But they were only for children under age 14 and I was quickly growing too old to be included.

So I turned to what I had myself.

I borrowed books. I watched YouTube lessons on shared mobile phones. I studied English, history and science late into the night under the dim light of a solar-powered bulb. With no electricity, no desk and no teacher, I kept learning anyway.

That’s how many Rohingya youth survive through self-study, resilience, and hope. But I always wondered: was there a path beyond this? Or would I remain forever a student without a school?

A Glimmer of Hope: RhEAP and a Way Forward

In 2023, something changed.

I was selected to join the Refugee Higher Education Access Program (RhEAP) run by BRAC University’s Center for Peace and Justice. It was part of a broader partnership with the Open Society University Network (OSUN).

For the first time in years, I had structure. I had teachers. I had classmates. I had a reason to believe that my education mattered.

In 2024, I graduated from this program, a moment I never imagined would come. Alongside that, I completed technical training in ICT, human rights and photography. I also became involved with Rohingyatographer where I document stories from within our community. And I co-founded the Rohingya Empowerment Network (REN) to support youth like myself.

But while I’m proud of these steps, I also know how rare this opportunity is. And it shouldn’t be.

What’s Still Missing: The Bigger Picture

Right now, the education system for Rohingya in the camps remains broken. Yes, some children can attend learning centers. Yes, there are pilot programs for the Myanmar curriculum. But they stop at Grade 9. They’re not accredited. And without recognition or certification, our learning doesn’t count.

Vocational training is limited. Access to secondary education is nearly nonexistent. And even though many of us are fluent in Bengali, we are excluded from the national curriculum of Bangladesh. Refugee students are not allowed to take national exams, earn certificates, or work legally.

What does that mean for the future? It means another generation risks being locked out of jobs, of opportunity, of dignity.

What We Need And What You Can Help Us Advocate For

Education is not just about learning. It’s about belonging. It’s about having the right to shape your life and contribute to your community.

Here’s what could truly change things:

1. Recognition – Certify the Myanmar curriculum and LCFA up to Grade 12 so we can graduate and move forward.
2. Expansion – Build real secondary schools and vocational centers inside the camps.
3. Integration – Introduce bilingual options that include Bangla and help us connect with the host society.
4. Higher Education – Fund more programs like RhEAP that allow driven students to reach their full potential.
5. Teacher Training – Support refugee teachers with proper certification and professional development.
6. Legal Access – Allow us the right to work, learn, and contribute meaningfully.
7. Long-Term Funding – Move beyond emergency responses toward sustained investment in our education.

A Final Word: For the Boy Still Waiting

Somewhere in the camps, there’s a boy just like I was. Maybe he’s sitting cross-legged on a bamboo mat, reading by solar light. Maybe he’s waiting for a school that hasn’t been built yet. Maybe he thinks he’s been forgotten.

I want him to know he hasn’t.

I wrote this for him and for all the Rohingya youth still holding on to their dreams. Our stories matter. Our futures matter. And with the right support, we can go far beyond what anyone ever expected of us.

Thank you Dr. Chris for sharing this space. Thank you to every reader for listening.

Let’s make sure no child has to wonder if they’ll ever see the inside of a classroom again.

Anower Solim is a Rohingya youth leader, co-founder of the Rohingya Empowerment Network, and a graduate of the RhEAP program at BRAC University’s Center for Peace and Justice. He is also a contributor to Rohingyatographer and an advocate for education in displacement.

Who is Maung Solaiman Shah? I am Maung Solaiman Shah, and I’m a Rohingya Activist, young leader, human rights advocate, and changemaker. I was born in Rakhine State, Myanmar, but like many Rohingya, I was forced to flee my homeland due to persecution. I’ve spent most of my life growing up in the world’s largest refugee camp, Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. Living in a place marked by displacement and struggle has never been easy. But even in the face of hardship, I found purpose through education, compassion, and an unshakable belief that every human being deserves dignity, justice, and the chance to live in peace. I started my journey as a young activist or leader because I couldn’t ignore the suffering of my community people especially the youth. I saw how we were left out of decisions about our future, how we were silenced or overlooked. That’s why I founded Youth Led Initiative (YLI), a grassroots organization that empowers Rohingya youth through education, climate action, digital literacy, and leadership development advocacy and training and resources. At YLI, our goal is simple but powerful: we train, support, and uplift youth so that they can become confident leaders and advocates, right here in the camps and far beyond. Through training sessions, workshops, and advocacy, we’re creating a generation that is informed, connected, and courageous enough to lead change. Outside of YLI, I also work part-time as a Contingent Worker with the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), where I continue to serve and support my community. I’m currently studying Business Administration at the University of the People, and I have completed a Diploma in Human Rights at Spring University Myanmar with the support of Institute of Human Rights and Democratic Governance (IHRDG). I am also an active human rights advocate not only for the Rohingya, but for all people facing injustice. One of my major battles has been fighting against online fraud and digital scams, especially those targeting vulnerable communities like ours. I believe in using digital tools responsibly and ethically, and I want to make sure every Rohingya youth has the skills to protect themselves and their communities online. My commitment to the 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) keeps me going every day. Whether it’s advocating for quality education, climate justice, or gender equality, I believe these goals are not just global ambitions, but they are deeply personal missions for communities like mine. But more than anything, my dream is to serve the Rohingya people for the rest of my life to help build a future where we can live peacefully, with dignity, in our own homeland, Myanmar. I don’t just want to return but want to return as a builder of peace, a servant leader, a sel-less leader and someone who helps heal the wounds of the past. To me, “kindness is strength, and leadership is service.” These values guide everything I do. And here is my greatest dream: “A generation of Rohingya youth who are no longer voiceless, but digitally connected, empowered, and actively shaping their future.” This is not just a dream. It’s a vision I’m working toward day by day, session by session, voice by voice. Thank you for walking this journey with me. Thanks for listening my voice.