(Series IV): Voices of the Host Community — Stories of Coexistence, Change, and Conscience
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- (Series IV): Voices of the Host Community — Stories of Coexistence, Change, and Conscience
- Editor’s Note
- Witnessing the Influx
- A Small Initiative Called Prottasha
- Opening Our Doors
- Learning the Meaning of Humanitarian Response
- Kutupalong Before and After 2017
- Building Bridges Through Sport
- Lessons from the Rohingya
- A Crisis Without a Solution
by Luthfunnahar Shancyi
Editor’s Note
This is the fourth installment of Rohingya Khobor’s monthly series based on field experiences from the Rohingya camps. The author is a humanitarian worker with a background in law who has been involved in the Rohingya response since 2017, particularly in gender-based violence work.
In this installment, the author turns to the experiences of the host community through the testimony of a young development worker from Ukhia who witnessed the 2017 influx firsthand. His reflections offer insight into how the Rohingya crisis has shaped local lives, relationships, and communities over the past nine years.
The series documents lived realities from the ground, focusing on testimony, survival, and the conditions shaping everyday life in displacement.
“Money can be earned at any stage of life, but the opportunity to stand by humanity in a moment of extreme danger is a rare blessing that time never turns back.”
— Mizanur Rahman, Social Worker and Development Worker
When discussing the Rohingya crisis, conversations often focus on refugees, international politics, humanitarian aid, or repatriation efforts. Yet another important dimension of this prolonged crisis is the host community, whose members have not only witnessed the events unfold but have also experienced their consequences in their own lives, communities, economies, and social realities.
Mizanur Rahman is one of them.
Currently a student of Development Studies at Jahangirnagar University, Mizan also works as a development worker with the Forensic Anthropology Foundation of Guatemala (FAFG) project implemented by Social Action for Voluntary Efforts (SAVE), Bangladesh.
In August 2017, however, he was simply an 18-year-old young man from the Kutupalong area of Ukhia, Cox’s Bazar. His family home stood close to the registered Rohingya camp. As a result, the Rohingya population was never unfamiliar to him. Like many local residents, he had witnessed previous influxes, including the arrivals of 2012. But nothing prepared him for what began in August 2017.
This is Mizan’s story.
Witnessing the Influx
“I still remember 25 August 2017 very clearly.
I think it is difficult for people who have never visited Kutupalong or Ukhia to fully imagine what happened. We had known the Rohingya since childhood. They were not strangers to us. But what happened in 2017 was completely different.
People just kept coming.
They arrived exhausted, hungry, terrified, and injured. Some had lost children. Some had lost parents. Others had lost entire families.
As people crossed the border, the entire area seemed filled with panic, tears, and uncertainty.
I was only 18 years old. I was not connected to any NGO, and I knew very little about humanitarian work. But the suffering we witnessed affected us deeply. It felt impossible to stand aside and do nothing.”
A Small Initiative Called Prottasha
“My friends and I decided to act.
We started a small initiative called Prottasha Foundation. We collected money from local elders and community members. With those contributions, we arranged hot meals for people arriving from the border, helped provide temporary shelter, and supported families in reaching safer locations inside the camps.
When I look back now, I realize we did not even know what a ‘humanitarian response’ meant.
We simply knew that people were in danger, and that we had a responsibility to help.”
Opening Our Doors
“One memory remains particularly vivid.
On 26 August, heavy rain had been falling since morning. Two Rohingya families were standing near our house, completely soaked. One of the women was pregnant. They looked exhausted and helpless.
My father noticed them from the rooftop. Without hesitation, he told us, ‘Bring them inside.’
Those families had once been relatively well-off in Myanmar. Like many others, they stayed as long as they could before finally fleeing for their lives.
They remained in our home for two days.
Later, the authorities instructed local residents not to keep refugee families in private homes and directed them to move into the camps. The families eventually left, but our relationship did not end there.
Even today, we remain in contact.
Looking back, I believe many families across Cox’s Bazar did what they could. People did not calculate benefits before helping. Humanity felt much simpler then.”
Learning the Meaning of Humanitarian Response
“In the early months, Kutupalong was extremely chaotic.
There was no fully organized administrative structure. WASH facilities were inadequate. Healthcare and protection systems were still developing. Everywhere you looked, there were people in need.
Relief trucks arrived from different parts of Bangladesh. Local residents also contributed whatever they could.
At the same time, we learned an important lesson. Humanitarian assistance cannot be driven by emotion alone. Culture, habits, dignity, and lived realities matter.
For example, many well-meaning donors sent jeans and other clothing that many Rohingya people did not feel comfortable wearing due to cultural preferences.
My friends and I tried to explain that aid should not only be delivered; it should also be appropriate for the people receiving it.
We also noticed major inequalities in distribution. Some households received far more assistance than they could use, while others received very little. Those early experiences taught us that good intentions alone are not enough.”
Kutupalong Before and After 2017
“Kutupalong before 2017 was very different from the Kutupalong we know today.
Our village was peaceful. Muslims, Hindus, and Buddhists lived side by side. Crime was rare. Education was highly valued. Every year, someone from the area would become a BCS cadre.
Life was simple, but beautiful.
There were only a handful of multi-story buildings. The market was small. Demand was low. Life moved at a slower pace.
Since 2017, the area has changed dramatically.
Economically, some people have benefited. Individuals who once drove auto-rickshaws may now own several CNGs. New businesses have emerged, and construction has expanded.
But these changes have also come with costs.
The prices of everyday necessities have increased significantly. Low-income local families face growing economic pressure. Farmers often struggle to find laborers. Demand from a large population has pushed up food prices.
Perhaps the biggest change has been in security.
The peace that once defined our community has weakened. The risks of drug trafficking and human trafficking have increased in and around the camps. Some local residents have also become involved in these networks in search of quick income.
Before 2017, many of us could never have imagined such changes.”
Building Bridges Through Sport
“Despite everything, this story is not only about hardship.
There are also moments that give me hope.
Through Prottasha Foundation, we began organizing football and cricket tournaments involving both Rohingya and host community youth.
I have seen how quickly people connect on a playground.
For a few hours, labels such as ‘refugee’ or ‘host community’ become less important. Friendships emerge naturally.
Through these activities, we have built meaningful relationships with many Rohingya friends. I have invited some of them to my wedding, and they have invited me to family events.
Recently, a misunderstanding involving local residents and people connected to the Hindu Para camp created tensions. Because trust had been built over many years, community members were able to sit together, talk, and calm the situation.
That trust mattered.”
Lessons from the Rohingya
“To be honest, I did not become interested in Development Studies because of my family.
The Rohingya inspired me.
Watching their struggles taught me how to understand human rights in a deeper way.
I believe the most difficult situation today belongs to Rohingya youth. An entire generation is growing up without citizenship, without certainty, and without knowing their homeland.
Yet they possess tremendous talent and potential.
Without opportunities, however, young people can easily become vulnerable to harmful influences.
That is why I always tell Rohingya youth: keep building your capabilities. Education, skills, and awareness will be your greatest strength in the future.
I also have a message for Bangladeshi youth.
Many young people today think about financial gain before anything else. But opportunities to stand beside people during moments of extreme suffering do not come often.
Money can always be earned later.
The opportunity to stand by humanity does not come twice.”
A Crisis Without a Solution
“To me, the Rohingya crisis is not only a Bangladeshi issue. It is a global humanitarian crisis.
Cox’s Bazar continues to face environmental pressure, rising prices, and growing social challenges. Bangladesh has hosted millions of people, yet there is still no permanent solution.
Without meaningful action from the international community, this situation will continue.
My own experiences volunteering in the camps made this reality impossible to ignore.
I remember sitting inside small shelters and listening to families describe how they fled violence with nothing but a few belongings and memories of home.
Those conversations changed me.
They shaped my understanding of tolerance, solidarity, and humanity.
I still hope that one day justice will be served for the Rohingya genocide and that Rohingya families will be able to return home safely and with dignity.
Until then, their story remains our shared responsibility.”
Luthfunnahar Shancyi is a law graduate and human rights professional. Since entering the humanitarian sector during the 2017 Rohingya genocide response, she has worked on issues related to gender-based violence, protection, and community engagement. Through this series, she documents testimonies and field experiences from the Rohingya camps, focusing on memory, displacement, survival, and justice.


