Word by Khaleda Lobid
Khaleda Lobid was only eight years old when she fled to Bangladesh with her family. "The memories are still sharp, as if it happened yesterday—losing everything in a single hour." On August 25, 2017, the Myanmar military launched brutal operations against the Rohingya minority, including mass killings, rape, and burning homes, forcing over 700,000 people to flee. Khaleda was one of those survivors, enduring a terrifying journey to Bangladesh and holding onto a faint hope for justice, though it often felt like an impossible dream.
Khaleda came from a small village known as Chin Kali, in Rathedaung, located in Rakhine State. Though she is very young and has limited memories, she recalls her father with great pride. "My father was a doctor, owned a chemist shop, served as a village leader, and even worked as an engineer. He did many things to support and care for our family." They lived peacefully, with their own farm and home, making a modest but fulfilling living in a rural peace zone.
At around 6 or 7 years old, Khaleda was studying in primary school and already had dreams of becoming a doctor or a scientist. However, the Myanmar military shattered her hopes, making her dreams feel nearly impossible by driving her family out of their homeland.
On August 25th, the military arrived in her village, setting fire to Rohingya homes and shooting at people.
"I still remember the flames flying like falling stars, sparking overhead as we ran into the nearby mountains to save ourselves," Khaleda shared.
That night marked her final departure from home, and they spent the night huddled together under the open sky, soaked by rain, with no shelter or way to keep warm. "As a small girl, I was trembling with the cold, sitting on the wet muddy ground in discomfort, and being bitten by insects."
The following day, with the rain still pouring, they moved to another village. Khaleda stated,
"I remember the endless walking, slipping and sliding in the mud, feeling exhausted but too scared to stop."
In that village, they built a small tent and stayed there for more than two weeks, living in constant fear and uncertainty. For her, it was a terrifying experience that still traumatize her.
The next step in their journey was even more unprecedented. As they moved toward Bangladesh, her mother, carrying her baby siblings, injured her leg. "She struggled to keep up, and even though I was young and couldn’t do much, I tried to help her as best as I could," Khaleda recalls. But the journey was incredibly difficult, filled with heartbreak and moments that left scars, both physical and emotional, that continue to affect her.
Many Rohingya families shared similar journeys, walking for days through dense jungles and crossing dangerous waters, all in search of safety. Some crossed the Bay of Bengal by boat, risking everything to escape the terror they faced in Myanmar. The journey meant leaving behind their homes, friends, and the lives they once knew, a painful sacrifice that weighs heavily on survivors to this day.
Khaleda expresses the deep emptiness that followed.
"The relief of reaching a temporary safety was nothing in the comparison of losing everything in a single hour."
Her memories of her village, the places where she once played, and the people she knew and loved are now distant, unreachable parts of her past.
Seven years have now passed since Khaleda and her family found refuge in Bangladesh. However, the life she once knew is gone, replaced by crowded tents in refugee camps. The situation remains dire, with 52 percent of the camp's children—part of a 1.5 million-strong community—remaining homeless, stateless, and uncertain of ever returning to their homeland.
Khaleda recalls witnessing the horrors firsthand. "When the military started shooting and setting houses on fire, I saw them burning people as well—even some of my relatives were burned." In those moments, she feared for her life.
"I truly felt that I might die like them, but fortunately, I am alive."
Her memories are filled with the violence she witnessed: innocent people being shot, homes engulfed in flames, and the bodies left behind in the wake of the attacks.
For decades, the Rohingya people have faced systematic oppression in Myanmar, enduring waves of violence in 1978, 1990, 2012, and the large-scale attacks in 2017. During this most recent genocide, over 1.2 million Rohingya were forced to flee their homeland. Bangladesh welcomed them with open arms, providing a place of refuge, though it was far from the home they longed for.
Today, there are another ten thousand of Rohingya fled again. Every single soul has a story of loss, survival, and lost own homeland. They rely on the international community to deliver justice and to help them return home, but their hopes remain unfulfilled. The International Criminal Court (ICC) and the International Court of Justice (ICJ) have yet to hold those responsible for the atrocities accountable. For Khaleda and many others, the hope of returning to their homeland remains a distant, unrealized dream—a thirst for justice that persists in the hearts of the Rohingya people.
Edited by Ahtaram Shin