Trading Survival: Micro-Businesses in the Rohingya Camps
- Ahtaram Shin
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
Photo-essay by Azim Ullah
Historically, the Rohingya were a people defined by trade, commerce, and mobility across Asia. Years of severe restrictions imposed in Myanmar dismantled these economic systems. After the 2017 exodus, families fled with nothing, becoming almost entirely dependent on humanitarian aid. Today, that dependence is exposed again by looming food shortages caused by funding cuts and shrinking rations.
In the camps, formal income opportunities are nearly nonexistent. A small number of educated individuals work as NGO volunteers or teachers; the vast majority are excluded from any regular source of income. Daily life becomes a calculation: ingredients for curry, basic nutrition for children, school fees, support for madrasas, clothing, cooking utensils, or the costs tied to guests, marriages, and travel.
In response, some families have turned to micro-businesses, small roadside shops, mobile vendors moving from shelter to shelter. These fragile economies do not offer prosperity, but they offer something aid cannot: a measure of control over daily survival.
In the camps, the weight of survival often falls on the young. Shohida, only 6 years old, sits behind her father’s small stall selling betel leaves, nuts, and lime. Her presence at the shop is a bittersweet image of childhood innocence meeting adult responsibility.
Similarly, 12-year-old Saifullah has stepped up to lead his family. "My father was a shopkeeper in both Myanmar and Bangladesh," he explains, " but he can no longer work due to heart disease." Now, Saifullah manages the shop to support a family of ten while bravely continuing his own studies.
Food is the most basic necessity, and several men work tirelessly to provide it. Shamsul Alom and Abdul Kobir run vegetable stalls in Camp-22, selling fresh greens, mint, and jute leaves. For Abdul, these vegetables are a way to support his family in a world that often feels "unseen and dark."
Mohammed Ullah focuses on traditional tastes, selling funnel cakes, rice cakes, and bananas. "In camp life, we must adapt to survive," he says. "Even small earnings can bring dignity and hope." Nearby, Aman Ullah moves through local events and religious gatherings (Mahfils), selling peanuts and maize to the crowds.
For some, the work changes with the weather. Jamal Hossain, 35, divides his life by the seasons. In the winter, he sells nuts and sweet potatoes; in the hotter months, he prepares Jhal Muri (spicy puffed rice). Despite the low income, he keeps moving forward.
Others rely on physical strength. Zahid Alom earns his living as a woodcutter, collecting and selling firewood door-to-door across the hills of Teknaf. Meanwhile, Roshid Ahmed, 58, has relied on his hands for over 20 years, continuing his trade as a barber to keep his family afloat.
Even in a refugee camp, there is a place for happiness. Robi Ullah, 60, has spent his life selling balloons. "When I sell balloons, I see joy light up on children’s faces," he shares. "Even in these difficult conditions, those moments of play bring them pure happiness."
For men like Ali Akbar, the journey has been long. He remembers being poor in Myanmar but living peacefully in his own home. After 2017, he tried working as a laborer building shelters, but the wages weren't enough. Today, he runs a small shop selling rice cakes, hoping to build a better life for his family, one small step at a time.
Through these small businesses, the Rohingya people show that even when they lose everything, their hard work helps support their families. Their wish to care for their loved ones cannot be destroyed.
The world may see only a refugee camp, but these small businesses show a culture that is still alive and strong. From a 6-year-old girl selling betel nuts to a 60-year-old man selling balloons, each sale is a quiet stand against poverty and a small step toward independency and self-reliance.
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About the author: Azim Ullah (TG Azim) is a researcher, teacher, and storyteller who shares the lives of his community through writing and photography. He focuses on education and mental health, capturing the real human stories of Rohingya lives in camps.
