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Rohingya refugees queue outside Kutupalong camp near the town of Cox’s Bazar, waiting to receive staples<br />

<br />

have turned the forested hills into a dusty hive of<br />

bamboo huts and black tarpaulins, Afifa is one<br />

of the luckier ones. Others in the camps have<br />

suffered more. Nur Ayesha, 40, pulls back her<br />

scarf to reveal burns across her face; the military,<br />

she says, set fire to her house while she was still<br />

inside. Ajim Allah, 14, shows me his shriveled<br />

left arm, shattered by a police bullet when he<br />

emerged from a madrassa last October; three of<br />

his friends died of gunshot wounds that night.<br />

Yasmin, a 27-year-old from Ngan Chaung<br />

village, recounts how soldiers took turns raping<br />

her in front of her five-year-old daughter. But<br />

the worst moment came when she went to look<br />

for her eight-year-old son—and found him in a<br />

rice paddy, a bullet hole in his back. “There’s no<br />

hope for us there anymore,” she says, tears rolling<br />

down her cheeks.<br />

There is little hope in Bangladesh either.<br />

Rohingya can’t get proper jobs, enroll children in<br />

schools, or access basic health care. On the road<br />

outside camp, clusters of refugee women beg for<br />

money. Men find sporadic work in the paddies<br />

or salt farms, but wages rarely exceed a dollar a<br />

day. And Bangladesh, already poor and overpopulated,<br />

doesn’t want to host them for long. The<br />

government is floating a plan to move them to a<br />

remote island in the Bay of Bengal.<br />

The last time I saw Afifa, she was sweeping a<br />

rectangular patch of dirt—the site of the family’s<br />

future hut—while her father secured bamboo<br />

poles at each corner. Islam, in his white skullcap<br />

and tunic, attended Friday prayers that day for<br />

the first time since he fled Myanmar. But the misery<br />

has continued. In late May a cyclone ripped<br />

through, destroying the family’s shelter—and<br />

hundreds of others in Balukhali camp. Nobody<br />

died, and his wife and other children finally made<br />

it to Bangladesh. Still, food is scarce, the monsoon<br />

rains continue, and there are reports of renewed<br />

military operations in Rakhine. As a neighbor<br />

lamented: “Bad days for us never end.” j<br />

WITHOUT A HOME 103

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