By: RO Maung Shwe
As the holy month of Ramadan draws to a close, Rohingya families across the refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar prepare for Eid al-Fitr with anticipation, nostalgia, and a deep yearning for home.
For the Rohingya community, Eid is not just a religious festival—it is a moment of cultural expression, childhood dreams, and community bonding, all shaped by memories of Arakan and the harsh realities of exile.
Preparing for Eid in the Camps
Despite extreme poverty and displacement, Rohingya families begin preparing for Eid early in Ramadan. Parents save money throughout the month to buy new clothes for their children. Children, in turn, treasure the Eid gifts they receive and save every small amount to make their own purchases.
In the days leading up to Eid, the makeshift markets in the camps become lively. Some sell items to earn extra cash, while others buy basics like sugar, milk, semai (vermicelli), peanuts, and coconuts for traditional dishes.
Children often help their parents by bringing clothes from the market or exchanging them based on family preferences. Community volunteers and madrasa students join hands to decorate the Eidgah (open-air prayer ground) with colored papers and flowers—a tradition that symbolizes celebration even amid crisis.
The Day of Eid: A Moment of Joy
On Eid morning, families rise early to take a ritual bath, marking the beginning of a day of joy and festivity. Mothers and sisters prepare sweet dishes like semai and other traditional foods. Dressed in new clothes—sometimes donated, sometimes saved for—families head to the mosque or the Eidgah for the Eid Namaz.
After the prayer, everyone greets each other with warm embraces. Children eagerly await Eid gifts (Eidi) from elders. Among Rohingya families, it is a beloved tradition to gift money to children.
Failing to do so, especially with young girls, often results in playful protests and even disappointment. “Some of our sisters get very angry if they don’t receive Eidi,” one young refugee laughed.
Reunions and Simple Celebrations
After prayers, families begin visiting relatives, neighbors, and friends. Children move from house to house collecting gifts and sweets. Adults visit parents, grandparents, and in-laws, exchanging greetings and enjoying simple meals together. For many, this is a rare chance to gather as a community.
Young men organize friendly football matches, while girls visit each other’s homes, dress up, and participate in small group activities. Though entertainment options are limited, they find ways to create festive moments within the boundaries of the camp.
Second and Third Days: Sustaining the Spirit
Eid celebrations often continue for two more days. On the second day, men may visit their in-laws, where hosts prepare meals with whatever is available—sometimes including goat curry or fried eggs.
Women return to their parents’ homes with small gifts of food. Children continue playing games such as marbles, rubber bands, plastic guns, balloons, and other traditional Rohingya pastimes.
After the third day, adults return to work—whatever form it may take in the camps—and children resume their informal education, often after a break of at least ten days. Though the surroundings are stark, families do their best to make Eid feel like Eid.
A Boy’s Memories from Myanmar – By Mohammad Shaker
“In Arakan, life wasn’t perfect—but we had freedom,” says Mohammad Shaker, a young Rohingya man who now lives in the refugee camp.
He recalls fasting as a child and being insulted by a mosque committee member who questioned whether he was really fasting. “That man’s grandsons came every day for iftar without fasting, but because I was from a poor family, I was humiliated.”
During one Eid, Shaker wished to wear a D-2 shirt and long pants, a popular style at the time. But his parents couldn’t afford them. “I watched my friends wear what I dreamed of,” he recalls. From that day, he started saving money in a mud bank. By the next Eid, he had enough to buy the clothes he longed for.
“Now, in the camp, we can’t travel, even if we want to visit friends. There’s always fear—of robbery, kidnapping, or trafficking. I miss the freedom of Myanmar, where I could bring meat curry to my sister’s house and come back with love and gifts. That life is gone.”
A Girl’s Story of Eid in Arakan – By Hafsa Bibi
“In Myanmar, Eid preparations started a month early,” remembers Hafsa Bibi, a young Rohingya woman. “We’d get three dresses: the traditional Blues and Tahmi, a pants-and-t-shirt set, and a full colorful dress we called ‘scarf’.”
Tailors were busy during Eid season, and girls would go at night with their mothers to give designs. After shopping for clothes came the cosmetics and finally the henna night, where friends gathered at a neighbor’s house to decorate their hands.
“On the first day, we wore Blues and Tahmi; second day, the pants and t-shirt with a round cap; and third day, the colorful dress. We played on wooden ferris wheels and got the best Eidi from our elder sisters’ husbands,” she smiles.
But in the refugee camp, she says, “Many can’t afford a single new dress. There is no freedom, no ferris wheels, no markets filled with joy. Life here is about survival. The celebration is in our hearts, not around us.”
Eid in Arakan vs. Eid in Exile
For Rohingya refugees, Eid is both a time of remembrance and resilience. In Arakan, they celebrated with cultural pride, familial freedom, and joy that extended beyond their homes. In the camps of Cox’s Bazar, they try to preserve that spirit amid restrictions, loss, and uncertainty.
But through handmade decorations, small acts of giving, and community gatherings, the Rohingya continue to celebrate not only Eid—but the endurance of their identity. Their stories remind us that even in exile, tradition lives on—not in luxury, but in love.
