By: Hafizur Rahman, Camp Correspondent
Kutupalong, Cox’s Bazar – June 5, 2025
As Eid al-Adha approaches, the dusty grounds near the TV tower outside Kutupalong Refugee Camp have turned into a rare scene of anticipation. A temporary cattle market has sprung to life—livestock bleating, bargaining voices rising, and the air heavy with the scent of dust, sweat, and distant memories.
For many Rohingya refugees, the Qurbani market is more than just a place to buy animals. It is a fleeting bridge to a past life in Arakan, Myanmar—a life where sacrifice, celebration, and community spirit came naturally.
A Goat After Years of Waiting
“For the first time since fleeing to Bangladesh, I’ve saved enough to buy a goat,” says Mohammed Idris, 38, his voice steady but eyes glassy. “It may be small, but for my family, it means everything. It reminds us of who we were—of how we used to celebrate Eid in our village mosque, surrounded by neighbors and prayer.”
Idris proudly shows his new purchase—a lean, spotted goat, weighing barely 9 kg and costing him 9,000 Taka. “I worked odd jobs all year to make this happen,” he says.
Prices High, Hopes Higher
The market hosts a variety of animals—buffaloes, cows, and goats—brought in by traders from nearby areas. A 200 kg buffalo is going for as much as 230,000 Taka, while a mid-sized cow costs around 120,000 Taka. The prices reflect rising transportation and feed costs, but also the deep emotional value people place on fulfilling their religious duty.
Still, not everyone can take part.
Sacrifice Without a Slaughter
“I used to own cattle in Myanmar,” says Nur Mohammed, a father of five. “During Qurbani, I would choose an animal from our own livestock. Now, I can’t even buy meat for my children.”
He stands at the edge of the market, watching others negotiate deals. “It breaks my heart,” he says quietly. “But we will pray. We will remember Ibrahim’s (A.S.) sacrifice. And we will hope—for next year, for return, for something better.”
A Scene of Resilience
Though many in the camp are unable to afford sacrificial animals, the atmosphere at the market is one of cautious celebration. Children run barefoot between tied animals. Elderly men discuss prices under plastic awnings. For a moment, the camp feels like a community again—not just a place of waiting.
“Even looking at animals, being part of this ritual—it makes us feel like Eid is still ours,” says Fatema Khatun, 29, who came to the market with her sister and three children. “We may not buy, but we come to feel something again.”
Conclusion
In a place where daily survival often overshadows faith, the Qurbani cattle market offers a rare glimpse of spiritual continuity. It may not restore what was lost in Rakhine, but it reminds the Rohingya people that sacrifice is not only about wealth—it is about intention, memory, and resilience.
