Stepping into the Rohingya camps, one must suddenly realize that it was a place unparallel to any community or neighborhood that we encounter in our daily lives. I, too, was overcome with the feeling that this new world was brimming with resilience and heartrending struggles. My journey to the Rohingya camps was merely a business visit for the recent completion of a Randomized Controlled Trial in collaboration with New York University (NYU). In brief, our project centered around unfolding the impact of father engagement on the development of children aged 0-2 years. Equipped with the Bayley Scales of Infant and Toddler Development (Bayley-4), we set out to understand the stories etched within the lives of 2000 children and their families, woven amidst the war-torn reality of the camps and host communities, who opened their hearts and welcomed everyone seeking refuge for their families.
Amidst the hubbub of life, unknown to the struggles of their closest ones, the children appeared to be painting their own narrative of joy and mirth, playing among themselves, as if the world beyond their surroundings didn’t exist.
As I tread across the narrow snickets, the sheer contrast between the deplorable living conditions and the carefree laughter of children enveloped all my senses. Amidst the hubbub of life, unknown to the struggles of their closest ones, the children appeared to be painting their own narrative of joy and mirth, playing among themselves, as if the world beyond their surroundings didn’t exist. Women gracefully juggled cooking and chores while the elderly took care of bathing the little ones in the shared tubewell. It was a poignant sight, a testament to the unyielding resilience and palpable solidarity within the community’s core.
My consciousness grew stronger as I moved into the depth of the camp, and I realized the basic housing condition was absent. Every corner of the horizon, where my mind wandered was cramped spaces and dilapidated shelters. As I ventured into the wilderness of the enclave, I could barely breathe the air as the air was heavy with the reeking smell of the inadequate drainage system. The dwellings looked ramshackle and damp yet standing straight in the face of their happy dwellers.
In this enclave of humanity, life picked up a rhythm of its own, unfazed by the scarcity of essentials that most take for granted. It was implausible that amidst daily uncertainties regarding rations and provisions, humanity could exude such happiness and sangfroid. I would not have believed a word had I not witnessed it myself. Now that I have, I am in awe to have seen the echo of hardship ebbing away in the laughter and playful banter of children, the hustle of daily chores, and the unwavering determination of the community to live, to persist despite all the odds.
As the daylight started to fade and I strolled out of this world to settle back into mine, I clearly recall having this sense of overwhelming feeling accompanied by a question that lingered within me; what made them so profoundly happy and resilient? The remarkable fortitude of these children and their families to break through any barriers and live continues to resonate within me till today. Their story of survival is proof of human strength in the face of adversity.
Our journey into the Rohingya camps was not just about understanding the impact of paternal involvement. It was also a call to action. It was a narrative calling and urging us to extend a compassionate hand. It is to advocate for change in living conditions and the bare minimums for the generation in making and for the generation yet to come.
An invitation to weave brighter chapters into the lives of these children, ensuring that in between all the sufferings, their future shines with hope and possibility.