Reflection From a Rohingya Teenager

Is there no place for me? For my family?

I try and save what I can so my family can eat, as well as pay for our place to live. It is not enough. It looks like we are being swept into the gutter. “Shoo – we don’t want you.” I wish sometimes I could disappear.

But we have no place to go. No home, no government to defend us, no legal job where we can earn a wage, no school or education to pursue.

I fled from Myanmar with my family eight years ago. My father was killed two years ago. My home was destroyed by a flood a year ago. I had to give away my rooster last month; he was my favorite.

How much more loss? Is there no place for me?