The Rohingyas are one of the indigenous people of Arakan, had been inhabiting the country since 7th century with own specific language, culture, traditions and heritage. In 1784, Arakan was brutally conquered by the forces of Burmese King Bodawpaya. However, Historians like Francis Buchanan, a British explorer visited Arakan in 1795, and published the article in 1799 that Muslim presence in Arakan and recorded the term "Rooinga'' (Rohingya) as a distinct majority group of Arakan. Before occupation of Arakan, under British rule, Rohingya were recognized as an indigenous ethnic group of Arakan Myanmar.
In 1960, Myanmar government banned Rohingya language use in schools, medias, radios, televisions and public life in order to delegitimize Rohingya claims to indigeneity, leaving many Rohingya illiterate in their own language today.
In 1982, Myanmar concocted a citizenship law against of Rohingya and rendering them permanent outsiders by excluding them from the list of recognized ethnic groups.
Myanmar’s military has bulldozed mosques, destroyed historical Rohingya heritage sites, burned villages, renamed villages and replaced Rohingya communities with Buddhist settlers are part of a deliberate effort to erase their identity. Myanmar policies of forced discrimination, persecution, marginalization, displacement, restrictions on movement, education and healthcare have been enforced Rohingya for decades.
If slow genocide continues without cultural preservation efforts, younger Rohingya may grow up without knowing their history, language and connection to Arakan Myanmar. Folktales, folk songs, stories and lullabies, once passed down through generations, are fading as elders die in exile.
Rohingya children in camps of hosted countries are often adopted foreign languages, customs and clothing, leading to a generational shift away from their roots. In exile, the lack of formal education and documentation threatens the preservation of Rohingya language and traditions.
Historical flawed repatriation plans under international pressure on Myanmar in 1978 and 1992, failed in implementation. Rohingya refugees were under rushed conditions without addressing core issues like citizenship.
As the Rohingya people continue to face genocide in own home country of Myanmar, the international community's attention and support for the Rohingya crisis has declined. This has left the Rohingya people in a state of limbo, with no clear solution or resolution in sight.
An Afflictive Life
by Shafiul Ansary (Co-founder of (Rohingya Canadian Community (RCC)))
A cloudy day was a long life ago,
A group of bees hived in a beautiful rose.
Doomed the rose regrettably by occupiers,
Dwellers of all near, fainted with fear of state's unstable.
An out-bursting is to desert a native land,
My heart so became a blithesome nature.
All confiscated by propaganda,
Me so had nothing to say my own.
I started a hysterical cry,
That I was gonna miss all.
It was a hapless day of my life,
The night was my brightness side of my life.
To relinquish my pastoral life on a windy May midnight,
I set off journey through a deep reed.
Though there were precipitous crosses,
I heard cruel voices of feral animals.
Being I was a scapegoat child,
Stray bruised all parts of my body.
Bleeding was uncared, nor for food,
Street Monks thugs were my fear.
Two dozen hrs of my life in jeopardy,
I came out to a bank of Naf River.
Though I was in unspeakable mood,
I had torn bag was snatched away by Mobs.
Stomach growling for being nothing around,
Sodden water I drank invisibly.
Seeing my (wayworn) uncontrolled morose,
An old paddler helped me cross the Naf River.
While I had seen many drowning boats,
Tears of terror plight was shedding down.
When, not sure, I started sleeping,
I was in Bangladesh when I woke up.
No one was besides me to wipe away my tear,
I was in an alien cage for being Rohingya.
Near two decades of my life in dilapidated limbo,
I luckily resettled in Canada.
On a lovely day of bitterness winter,
I landed down in Vancouver Int'l Airport.
It is though a most beautiful city in the world,
I was under the weather.
Strange everything and everyone,
Streets spread as the roots of tree.
Seeing people looked like machines,
It was reluctant to soothe my mind.
Seeing people on diverse talking,
I started to aspire at day time.
Being English was my third tongue,
I felt my heart imploded forlornly.
I today overcome through hysteria,
Where equal dignity everyone can share.
It’s neither for my nation nor for my entire family,
Those who have to face a slow silent genocide.
Leaving half under the threat of death,
A stranger here seemed like my happiness.
Life of somber made me feel in an emotional life,
An afflictive life is the credence of my life.
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