The daily life of Rohingya children in the refugee camp is heart wrenching
- Ahtaram Shin
- Jan 16
- 4 min read
Updated: Jan 17
A Photoessay by Azim Ullah.
In the crowded and dusty Rohingya refugee camps, children use whatever they can find to survive and play. A simple medicine bag becomes a playing headscarf, and a heavy cart used for food supplies becomes a toy. For thousands of children living away from their homes, life is a mix of playing and working like adults.
While many people talk about the Rohingya crisis using numbers and politics, the real story is seen in the lives of the children. It is seen in children like Shohida, who uses mud to fix the walls of her family’s hut, and Rozina, who carefully cleans the dust out of her brother’s eyes. This photoessay by Azim Ullah is an observational exercise looking at Rohingya children. It shows the difficult reality for these children. They are forced to grow up too fast and stay strong just to get through each day. Even when they are just trying to be kids, their lives are shaped by the struggle to survive in different ways.
Jesmin Akter, aged 7, watches her mother, Nosima, prepare for the hospital. In the crowded camps, the Hijab is a vital symbol of dignity and privacy. Finding her own way to "dress up," Jesmin dons a Gonoshasthaya Kendra (GK) medicine advice bag as a covering. To her, this is not a clinical tool. It is a piece of her hearing learning and wear as her mother did.
"Even in a place defined by what we have lost, our children find ways to make the tools of survival look like a game." Jesmin's mother explains.
Aziz Khan, 07 aged, is sitting on the door during evening while he can't play any games due to injuries. The dirt beneath their feet tells the story of a constant unhygienic sense.
In the absence of proper nutrition, a 4-year-old child consumes dry coffee powder by picking from the soil. This small act reflects a deeper food insecurity of children, not just for food, but for safety, unhygienic and health concerns. Without access to proper WASH (Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene) facilities or adequate rations, children turn to whatever is available, getting unknown disease, dehydration, and stomach irritation.
Mohammad Seriz, 13, manage to do his family task beyond his age. After a long day of carrying heavy rations to support his family, he turns his work tool into a chariot for his younger brothers. His childhood is a constant blend of heavy responsibility and the desperate urge to play.
Sufiya Akter, 11, is a motherless child confronting her pain in the camp. Between her sessions at the Madrasa and school, she carries a quiet emotional struggle by sitting alone
"Whenever I go to school, I imagine my mother is waiting for me at the shelter, talking and smiling with me in the kitchen," she shares.
For children like Sufiya, the crisis isn't just orphanage but it is the loss of the childhood and need of her mom that only a parent can provide.
A child winds through the camp pathways, eyes fixed on the horizon. Her mother has gone to the hospital with a sister suffering from a high fever. This is little kiddo is left alone then she came out outside and waiting for a mother’s return from the clinic. In this condition, many children misses and kidnap.
Royez Ullah, 12, a Quran student, was "super hungry" when he bought a packet of biscuits. Before he could take a second bite, he saw a younger girl crying from hunger. Without hesitation, he gave them all away.
"Her happiness is more than my hunger," Royez says.
Five-year-old Nur Saidaya stands on a seat in her school, carefully applying lipstick. She can barely walk, yet she seeks beauty. In this moment, the lipstick is more than makeup; it is a symbol of a child's refusal to let the shadows of displacement dim her inner joy.
Ten-year-old Shohida uses a mixture of mud and water to fix the broken floor of her family's shelter. Without money for cement, she uses the earth itself to maintain their fragile home.
"Our shelter’s ground corner was broken. I’m using mud because we can’t afford it," she explains, her small hands doing the work of a mason.
The stories of children like Jesmin, Royez, and Sufiya remind us that no child should have to grow up as a refugee. International law, like the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, say that every child has the right to be safe, to go to school, and to have enough food and care to grow up healthy. But in these camps, children are losing these rights just to stay alive.
True safety and dignity for these children cannot be fixed by just using mud to patch a wall or by a hungry child sharing a biscuit. It requires the whole world to make sure that a child’s rights don't change just because of where they live. When we see a young girl crying on a dusty road, it shows us that we must build a better future for them, one that goes beyond the fences of a camp. We must do more than just help them "survive." We must work for a world where Rohingya children can finally be kids again, growing up with the love, care, and safety they deserve.
