Listen to the voices of suffering Rohingya children
Do you remember being a child, wide awake at night, breath drawn, every creak and whisper of breeze a monster under the bed, an intruder down the hall? Then as day breaks, childish fear evaporates and the night's terrors are forgotten.
For hundreds and thousands of Rohingya children camping in tents by the border of Bangladesh, fear does not fade when the sun rises. Each day brings a new worry.
These children are in purgatory, ripped away from the stability of their homes and treasured possessions, trying to make sense of the horrors they have seen and this strange and scary place.
In the words from just one Rohingya boy, aged 12: "We live a captive life here. There is not enough space for us to play. We cannot do anything we want to do."
Make no mistake, the Rohingya crisis is a children's emergency. More than 60 percent of new arrivals—that's 378,000—are aged under 18.
An estimated 7,000 of these children have been separated from their parents, either orphaned or lost in the chaos to flee Myanmar. And yet, their story is untold. To the world, these children are invisible.
In December, Plan International, Save the Children and World Vision International held a series of in-depth consultations with 200 children, aged between seven and 17-years-old, and 40 parents. We wanted to hear, in their own words, about their fears and hopes and what they need.
The "Childhood Interrupted: Children's Voices From The Rohingya Refugee Crisis" has been launched today to amplify the voice of the unheard Rohingya children. It's vital we hear what they have to tell us, because they are most affected by this terrible emergency.
Children told us their worlds have been torn apart. They've gone from living in a community where they know the geography, have close friends, family, a routine, good food and safe places to play, to a chaotic, overcrowded and frightening place.
They yearn for their homes, their possessions and oftentimes grieve for dead or missing relatives. They miss being warm at night and cool during the day. Their beds, comforts and toys: all of these things are lost.
Fear is endemic and many children spend their days on high alert. They've heard of children who have disappeared, kidnapped by frightening men who wish to harm them. There have been 17 recorded cases of child trafficking in the camps to date, with the unrecorded number likely to be much higher. History reminds us that wherever children are caught up in an emergency, traffickers are nearby.
Girls, in particular, are scared to leave their tents. They spend most of their time in tiny, unbearably hot structures, with just a straw mat for company as the long and dreary hours tick by. They only leave to use the toilet, and even then, they worry about strangers and that they will become lost in the mazes of the camps.
Children work hard. Many—particularly those who have lost family members—have no choice but to walk very long distances to collect distributions or to brave the jungle alone to find firewood to light their stoves so they can eat. They dread what awaits them on these walks, but they fear starvation more.
One 11-year-old girl told us: "It is very difficult to collect firewood here. We cannot go to forest at night because it is very risky. There was a girl who was raped when collecting firewood at night."
And often, children get lost. Even experienced aid workers find these camps overwhelming. There are few directional signs in an endlessly sprawling labyrinth of tarp and bamboo.This is a confusing and massive place for an adult, it must feel infinitely more bewildering and enormous for a child.
Children say they feel unhealthy and worry about sickness. They commonly experience diarrhoea, coughs and colds, respiratory problems, eye problems and skin diseases. Diphtheria stalks the camps: more than 4,000 cases have been reported to date. It has already claimed the lives of 24 children.
Food is a constant worry. Families are allocated 25 kilograms of rice every 15 days and it often runs out on day 12. They eat the same meal—often only once per day—of rice and lentils, and lack the nutritional variety to have energy and to grow. Children wish they had vegetables, fish and meat they could eat back home.
Few of the children here have access to education, putting them at risk of child labour and exploitation. Sadly, many children told us that because they cannot go to school and do not know if and when they will return home, they lack hope for the future.
For an adult, this place is tough. For a child, it is worse.
But even so, there are small comforts. The call to prayer five times a day, helps children feel safe and connected to their Muslim-Bangladeshi host community. They've come to trust and even feel comforted by the presence of the Bangladesh military and they told us the aid workers are kind to them and help them to feel safe.
Children need stability, routine and safety. As we shift into the sixth-month since this crisis began, the priority now is to ensure children are protected and feel safe to play, learn and live without fear.
It's vital that as the news coverage fades, our resolve strengthens to do more for these children. We cannot fail them. We must hear their voices.
Orla Murphy is Country Director, Plan International Bangladesh, Mark Pierce is Country Director, Save the Children Bangladesh and Fred Witteveen is Country Director, World Vision Bangladesh, respectively.