By: RO Maung Shwe
At 49 years old, Arofa Begum lives with the weight of memories, trauma, and responsibilities far beyond her fragile health. Originally from Mingezi Taungbazar village in Buthidaung Township, Rakhine State, Arofa’s journey into displacement began not in 2017, but years earlier, after surviving violence that changed the course of her life forever.
A Stable Life Lost to Tragedy
Born to Shofiqur Rahman, a farmer, and Namiya Khatun, Arofa grew up in a modest, middle-class Rohingya family. Her father cultivated rice, raised livestock, and grew vegetables. Her elder brother, Soyed Hossain, was a successful businessman running a shop in the village. Their household was peaceful—until one day, Soyed was shot and killed on the road while traveling for business. Rakhine civilians had targeted him for the large sum of money he carried, looting his belongings after taking his life.
His murder devastated the family. With their main source of financial support gone, the family struggled to survive as violence and instability continued to rise across Arakan.
A Survivor of Brutal Violence
In 2012, waves of ethnic violence erupted, particularly in Akyab (Sittwe), as extremist Rakhine mobs linked to the 969 movement unleashed attacks on Rohingya civilians. Among the victims were members of the peaceful Islamic missionary group, Tablighi Jamaat.
The violence soon spread to rural villages. Armed Rakhine civilians, with full impunity and silent support from the Myanmar authorities, committed horrific crimes: mass killings, sexual violence, and brutal beatings.
Arofa was caught in one of these attacks. Severely tortured, she suffered a deep leg injury. Her family made the difficult decision to flee with her across the border into Bangladesh, seeking medical treatment and safety. They arrived as part of the 2012 influx of over 20,000 undocumented Rohingya, who received no formal recognition or assistance from the Bangladeshi government at the time.
Life in Exile: Struggling Without Aid or Status
The family settled in one of the makeshift Rohingya camps, surviving off what little they could earn. Her husband and sons worked daily to provide food, shelter, and medicine. Two of her sons took up carpentry and construction work, earning small wages in the surrounding areas.
Arofa’s condition, however, deteriorated. The leg wound she sustained never fully healed. She developed diabetes and hypertension, making movement painful and daily life exhausting. Weekly visits to a camp hospital became necessary—each journey worsening her pain and straining the family’s limited resources.
Enduring Loss and Growing Responsibilities
In 2021, her eldest son Iqbal Hossain, a fisherman, drowned during a fishing trip, leaving behind his widow and three children. Another son, Mohammad Jubair, migrated to Malaysia in search of work two years ago—but has since gone missing. His wife and two young children now live with Arofa, waiting for news that never comes.
Today, Arofa and her aging husband shoulder the burden of 12 family members, including two widowed daughters-in-law and five grandchildren. Her husband continues to work, but age and exhaustion are catching up with him. The financial pressure is relentless.
Despite her efforts to encourage her daughters-in-law to remarry for a more stable future, both women refused.
“We want to raise our children ourselves,” they said. “We won’t abandon our past.”
A Ray of Relief, But Still Not Enough
After 2017, as a new wave of Rohingya refugees arrived, international organizations finally began providing formal humanitarian aid. Arofa’s family now receives basic food rations and cooking fuel, and she depends on NGO-run camp clinics for her medical needs. However, the support is minimal and inconsistent—nowhere near enough for a large family with multiple dependents and chronic illnesses.
Once able to access private medical treatment with dignity, she now waits in long queues under the sun, clinging to the hope of being seen by a doctor.
“I cannot walk without pain. Even standing for a few minutes is hard. Every step reminds me of what I lost and what I must still endure,” she shared.
The Emotional Weight of Statelessness
Arofa’s pain is not just physical—it’s deeply emotional.
“I often think about our home in Arakan. I remember our fields, our livestock, our mosque, the place where my parents are buried. Being stateless… it’s like being erased.”
Her greatest wish is to return to her village, even if only to be buried near her family’s graves. She prays each day, asking Allah to grant her enough strength to continue providing for her loved ones—and to one day, die in peace, in her homeland.
Conclusion: A Story of Survival and Silent Strength
Arofa Begum’s life is one of compounded suffering—gender-based violence, forced displacement, chronic illness, poverty, and loss. Yet she continues to carry on. With every burden placed upon her, she does not collapse. She endures.
Her story echoes that of thousands of Rohingya women: mothers, widows, grandmothers—disabled, dispossessed, and overlooked. They are the pillars of their families, often unseen, often unheard.
As international attention fades, their pain does not. Arofa Begum remains a living testament to the Rohingya community’s enduring will to survive, rebuild, and one day, return to a homeland stolen from them.
