By Siti
I was born in Bangladesh, though my family is originally from Myanmar.
My father fled Myanmar in 1992, escaping violence and persecution.
Life in the refugee camp in Bangladesh was difficult – we were completely reliant on humanitarian aid. I could not find any happiness. Mentally, I was in a terrible headspace and relied on sleeping pills for some respite. There were strict restrictions on movement, and education was almost non-existent.
I was only able to study up to Grade 5 (equivalent to Standard 5 in the Malaysian public education system), and even that was not in a formal school setting. The English I speak today, I learned from a private learning centre that I attended for a couple of years from 2008 to 2011.
In 2019, I came to Malaysia. Like many others, I arrived through unofficial means, seeking safety and a better future. Life here is safer in some ways, but it is still full of challenges.
I have two young children – one is three-and-a-half years old; the other is one-and-a-half. My eldest is non-verbal, but as refugees, we don’t have the means to access proper daycare for treatment for him. Even being pregnant was incredibly difficult; I could not afford prenatal care and only saw a doctor at seven months.
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My husband, due to his refugee status, cannot work. (Malaysia is not a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention). This means that I am the sole breadwinner for our family. I volunteer with Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières), but this is not permanent, and our future remains uncertain.
Financially, things are extremely difficult. We struggle with rent, food and basic needs. The house we rent is expensive, costing RM800 per month – significantly higher than what locals usually pay, because we are foreigners. We also had to pay an extra RM700 in fees just to secure a place.
Despite all this, I try to keep a friendly relationship with my neighbours. I greet them during their festivals, and they return my kindness with smiles and small conversations.
Even though I am in Malaysia now, my thoughts are often with my family back in Bangladesh in the camps. My father is unwell, suffering from hepatitis, and the last I spoke to him was six months ago.
The situation for Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh is becoming increasingly desperate – movement in the camp is limited, and they risk being detained if they attempt to leave. Many take to the sea, hoping to reach safer lands. Just a few days ago, a friend told me that her husband left on a boat, and she has no idea where he is now.
The sea journey is dangerous. I know this firsthand because my brother attempted it in 2022. He was only 19 years old when he boarded a boat from Bangladesh. The boat capsized, and he drowned – 41 people were rescued by sailors. Losing him broke me in ways I cannot describe.
What I wish I could make everyone understand is that no one is choosing to leave Myanmar or Bangladesh by choice. No one wants to embark on those boat journeys in fear of our lives. We are solely fleeing persecution or containment, in search of freedom to live. What other options do we have?
Living as a refugee is a constant battle against discrimination, uncertainty and fear.
Two days ago, I had an unsettling experience with a ride-hailing driver. He asked if we were Rohingya, and when we hesitated, he started talking about how much he hated us. He assumed that all Rohingya come to Malaysia with the intention to commit crimes and burden the country.
The truth is, many flee with no destination in mind.
The driver even threatened to report any Rohingya he found without papers to the police.
My husband and I were terrified. We had to lie, saying we were from Pakistan. Fortunately, our destination was close, and we were able to leave the car quickly.
Despite everything, I have dreams. If I had the opportunity to study, I would learn tailoring. My sister was a tailor, and I always wanted to follow in her footsteps, but my circumstances never allowed it.
Instead, I had to work to support my family. Even now, my priority remains my children. I wish for them to have access to education and healthcare – things that have remained elusive to us for decades.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I hold on to hope. I continue to work, to care for my family with the limited opportunities available to me.
This International Women’s Day, I too dream of a day when ALL women and girls can live without fear, with dignity and with the rights that every human being deserves.
I hope for a future where rights, equality and empowerment are a reality for all. – MSF
Siti (a pseudonym) is a 27-year-old Rohingya refugee born in Bangladesh. She was due to be resettled to Japan in 2020, however, she has not heard back about that since. Siti’s story is one of thousands. Without any legal framework in place in Malaysia and its neighbouring countries, the Rohingya and other ethnic minorities fleeing Myanmar continue to struggle for basic necessities.
- Tegakkan maruah serta kualiti kehidupan rakyat
- Galakkan pembangunan saksama, lestari serta tangani krisis alam sekitar
- Raikan kerencaman dan keterangkuman
- Selamatkan demokrasi dan angkatkan keluhuran undang-undang
- Lawan rasuah dan kronisme
