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Migrant Lives

Rohingya Refugees Lost Between Languages In Bangladesh

Caught between a host country trying to hinder their integration and a home country holding back their return, Rohingya children find themselves in linguistic limbo.

A Rohingya refugee looking over Cox's Bazar refugee camp in Bangladesh
A Rohingya refugee looking over Cox's Bazar refugee camp in Bangladesh

COX'S BAZAR — When Mohammed Reyas works on his math classwork, his mind splits among multiple languages.

The 11-year-old, a Rohingya refugee from Myanmar, starts counting in Burmese: "Tit, hnit, thone." He then switches to Bangla: "Char, panch, chhoy." Then Rohingya: "Hant, anchtho, no." Finally, he finishes in English: "Ten, eleven, twelve."

It's been a year and a half since Mohammed fled with his family from their home in Buthidaung in Myanmar's Rakhine state to Cox's Bazar in Bangladesh. There, he studies in a makeshift learning center perched on a steep hill in the world's biggest refugee camp.

In class, he learns in English and Burmese, the latter the official language of Myanmar. At home with his family and friends, he speaks Rohingya, a spoken language used by Rohingya people that has no written form. He has also picked up Bangla words and phrases from Bangladeshi locals and aid workers in the camp.

This mix of languages is normal for young Rohingya refugees. But language has become a political battleground. It is a means of assimilating but also a source of exclusion for Rohingya people on both sides of the border between Bangladesh and Myanmar.

The Bangladeshi government bans Rohingya refugees from learning the local language as part of its reluctance to allow their long-term integration. Meanwhile, the Rohingya believe they will someday return home to Myanmar, so parents want their children to learn Burmese. Some feel that raising their children with Bangla as the dominant language might further alienate them from the Rakhine and Burmese population once they return home. In the meantime, not knowing Bangla results in marginalization in Bangladesh, their host community.

"The advantage of learning Burmese is that it would provide an opportunity for Rohingya children to reintegrate into the education system in Myanmar in the future. It is their national language," says Karen Reidy, spokesperson for UNICEF, which runs 1,800 learning centers in the camps covering 155,000 children.

A "lost generation"

More than 1 million Rohingya refugees are living in Bangladesh, a figure that includes nearly half a million children. They have been called a "lost generation." A report by Save the Children last year estimated that more than 70% of Rohingya children in Bangladesh are not in school. Those who do have access to education attend sessions for about two hours per day, at grade levels far below their age.

Mohammed's 9-year-old sister, Yasmin, has also been exposed to multiple languages since they arrived in Bangladesh: "Minglaba" (a greeting in Burmese), she says. Then, in English, "Hi, how are you?"

Her instructor, Najim Ullah, a 22-year-old Rohingya refugee, teaches students the alphabet, rhymes and how to write sentences in Burmese.

"We will not be here for long," Ullah says. "They need to know Burmese when we return home."

Why do the Rohingya need to learn Bangla? Their language is Burmese.

But the Rohingya may not return to Myanmar anytime soon — and there is a chance they never will. In November, a plan put forward by Bangladesh and Myanmar to repatriate the Rohingya fell apart when no one agreed to a return because of continued hostility in Myanmar.

Twice in the past, in the late 1970s and early 1990s, there was a mass outflow of Rohingya refugees from Myanmar into Bangladesh, and Bangladesh resisted any attempt toward their integration. Despite the harsh conditions and Bangladesh's pressure on the Rohingya to return home, many from the previous refugee waves opted to stay there.

That's why parents, aid workers and the children themselves wonder whether learning Burmese will serve young Rohingya in the future.

Rohingya refugee children are exposed to multiple languages — Photo: KM Asad/ZUMA

The Bangladeshi government attempts to prevent Rohingya integration in numerous ways. It prohibits formal schooling for Rohingya refugees and has recently cracked down on their attempts to study in Bangladeshi schools. And last year, it circulated a notification forbidding Bangla from being taught in the camps.

"Our policy is to provide informal education. Why do the Rohingya need to learn Bangla? Their language is Burmese," says Abul Kalam, chief of the Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commission in Bangladesh. "They are here temporarily. The government is negotiating their repatriation strategy."

Mixing and matching

A study by Translators without Borders conducted in the camps last year found Rohingya is the language the refugees understand and prefer. Since Rohingya lacks a universally accepted script, Burmese is the preferred language for written communication. Interestingly, after Rohingya and Chittagonian (the local dialect of Cox's Bazar), spoken Bangla is understood at higher rates than spoken Burmese and English — likely because the spoken form of Bangla is closer to Rohingya.

"We have a chaotic situation in the camps. Burmese and English are being taught, but the mode of teaching is a mix of Chittagonian, Bangla and Rohingya," said A.K. Rahim, a sociolinguistic researcher with Translators Without Borders in Cox's Bazar, when he explained the study's findings at the Dhaka Lit Fest in November.

"There are cognitive dissonance issues among the children, simply because they are being bombarded with so many different languages that are not standardized in any way," he added. "There is no way to foresee what is their academic educational future, so they don't know which language to choose."

It helped me build a future.

It's common to hear of Rohingya people learning Bangla at night among themselves in the camps. A news report suggests Rohingya children are learning Bangla in secret from private tutors, themselves refugees who had fled the earlier waves of violence and managed to study in Bangladeshi schools.

"They all want to learn Bangla. I have seen young Rohingya children read and write Bangla, though not openly," says Ziaul Islam, a professor at the University of Chittagong, who researched the state of education in the camps last year. "They have the right to a better education, whether they stay back or return."

Zahid,* a Rohingya refugee in his late 20s, arrived with his family at the Kutupalong camp in the early 1990s. He was born in Bangladesh and studied in a Bangladeshi school by faking his identity papers and identifying himself as Bangladeshi. He speaks English and Bangla, apart from his native language, Rohingya.

"It helped me build a future," he says. He works with an aid agency and moonlights as a fixer and translator for international aid groups and journalists.

With both Bangla and Burmese being so politicized and not native to the Rohingya people, one recommendation by education experts and researchers is to develop a curriculum in English and include a component of mother-tongue education at the primary level.

Nasir Uddin, an anthropology professor at the University of Chittagong and a longtime researcher on Rohingya refugees, says, "Since this problem will not be solved anytime soon, we need to involve the Rohingya people and ask them what education they need for their future, instead of deciding for them."

*Some names of refugees have been changed in order to protect their safety.

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Sham Trial, Public Hanging: The Method To Iran's "Exemplary" Execution Of Protester

By executing a protester after a rapid trial, Iran's clerical regime has taken its clampdown on the once-in-a-generation uprising to a new level. Observers fear there are more to come soon.

Photo of protesters holding photographs

Protesters against the Iranian regime at the Hague



Iranians were infuriated by the Islamic judiciary's execution Thursday morning of a 23-year-old protester, Mohsen Shekari. Opposition media and Iranians on social media called it murder. The public hanging, on charges that Shekari took part in the stabbing of a state agent in Tehran, showed the regime is hellbent on crushing weeks of protests and silencing calls for regime change.

Shekari was arrested in protests in downtown Tehran on Sept. 25, and convicted of having injured a state security agent with a knife. The formal charges against him — and various other jailed protesters — was "waging war on God" a part of the Iranian penal code that is punishable by death, though he barely was afforded minimal legal proceedings. According to reports, Shekari was not given the right to select his own lawyer, nor was he given a chance to defend himself at the sentencing trial.

An informed source told Kayhan-London that when a lawyer sought to take up Shekari's defense, prosecutors told him Shekari had waived his right to choose a lawyer. So the court assigned him one who was no doubt obedient to the judiciary.

There were various discrepancies in the case. The state agent stabbed in Tehran that day was reportedly wearing nothing to indicate his status as law enforcement — although he was busy beating demonstrators — nor was there even evidence to prove that Shekari had stabbed him.

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