When we lived in Rakhine, I wanted to be a doctor, because there were no doctors in my village. I wanted to help those who were suffering from painful diseases.
One year, I completed my primary level of education, so my father enrolled me at a new school. 98% of students were Rakhine nationals in that school. The school was about two miles from my house.
I was so happy and excited to be admitted into middle school.The night before my first day at my new school, I could hardly sleep. I was thinking and imagining how things would be; new friends, new classmates… the new life I was about to start the next day. As usual, I woke at 5 am the next morning.
I brushed my teeth, applied thanakha to my face, dressed in my new uniform, and ate breakfast with my family.
My grandfather and grandmother, and my parents--all were giving me their best wishes and encouraging me. I was so excited. I went to school early to take my seat.
There is a rule of seating in the classes; all the girls sat at the front, and the boys sit behind them.
When I entered the class, no one spoke to me; they started staring at me. I chose a seat at the front of the class, where the girls were supposed to sit. Rakhine girls came into the class but maintained a distance from me. Everyone was staring at me. I heard them say “k***r ma” (pejorative term often used for women from Muslim /Hindu backgrounds)
The teacher arrived at 10 a.m. sharp. When she saw me, she came closer to me and asked, “what’s your name? Where are you from?”
I told her my name and the name of my village.
“Oh, you are k***r ma,” she replied.
“Why are you sitting here? Who told you to sit here?” she asked.
“I chose this seat and sat down because I saw other girls sitting here. I’m sorry if I made any mistake,” I replied. She replied angrily:
“It’s okay for them to sit here because they are all Rakhine girls and they are citizens of this country.
But you can’t sit here.
You are a Bengali k***r, and this seat is not for k***rs.
Got it?” I couldn't speak.
“Go and sit in the last desk of the class,” the teacher ordered.
I quietly stood and went to the last desk.
Since that day, I stopped going to school and my parents didn’t force me to attend. I couldn’t pay attention to the lessons that day.
That day, the only lesson I learned was discrimination: the illness of the heart.
"That day, the only lesson I learned was discrimination: the illness of the heart...
I am a Rohingya girl and also a student. This is my story."
Story and illustration shared by a Rohingya sister
(aged 15)
#WithTheRohingya #WhatsHappeningInMyanmar
