Nur Kabir & Khair Ullah
Guest Writers
Introduction by Andrew Allard
Editor-in-Chief
Editor’s note: Thank you to Nur Kabir and Khair Ullah for submitting this guest piece and Ann Bayliss for coordinating its publication. Mr. Kabir and Mr. Ullah’s letter does not reflect the views of the Virginia Law Weekly or its editors.
In the spring of last year, the Law Weekly received an unexpected guest piece from across the globe. Ann Bayliss, a member of the Charlottesville community with ties to the Law School, contacted us with an intriguing story. For three years, she has corresponded with two Rohingya refugees living in Bangladesh, Nur Kabir and Khair Ullah. Bayliss suggested publishing their story to increase awareness among future Virginia lawyers of the human rights abuses faced by the Rohingya.
Many readers have likely read about the ongoing persecution of the Rohingya in Myanmar, particularly after news broke of renewed attacks on Rohingya fleeing Myanmar this summer. But students may be unfamiliar—as we were—with the complexities of international law that contribute to the Rohingyas’ uncertain legal status.
We shared the letter with Professor Camilo Sanchéz, the director of the Law School’s International Human Rights Clinic, who noted UVA students’ “rich history” of applying their legal skills to human rights issues. “I would recommend students check out the work of the Burmese Democratic Futures Working Group. This group brings together UVA faculty, Burmese democratic advocates, and leadership from various non-profits to explore the history and current state of non-violent democratic movements in Myanmar.”
The letter from Mr. Kabir and Mr. Ullah follows:
Law students of the University of Virginia, we are two Myanmar nationals from the Rohingya community writing to you from Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.
We were just setting out on our careers after passing the final exam necessary to matriculate into higher education when a genocide occurred on August 2017 in Myanmar, and we write because, although our lives were spared, we remain in legal limbo seven years later.
Thanks to the intervention of Bangladesh and the United Nations High Commission on Human Rights, we are relatively well off compared to refugees within Myanmar and elsewhere. We have even survived uncertain legal situations before. To explain how we got here, it is necessary to know a little bit about how the problem facing the Burmese Rohingya began.
Kutupalong refugee camp in Bangladesh.
Source: Khair Ullah
Evidence from European explorers, missionaries, and trading companies from the 1600s to the early 1800s documents the presence of Muslims in Arakan, predating British colonization in 1824. One of our elders, Muhemmed Hussain, explains: “It is said in Arakan, the Rakhine and the Rohingya were brothers. Two races from the same place. One believes in Buddhism and one believes in Islam. We Rohingya were here since long before 1823. Our fathers, Grandfather [sic], great grandfathers, children, and grandchildren were all born here.”
From 1824 to 1937, Burma was a “province” of British India. Burma formally obtained independence on January 4, 1948. The 1947 Burmese Constitution stated that people who resided in Burma on its independence day were citizens. So, to determine whether we are citizens or not, it is needed to start from 1947, not hundreds of years ago. That is the right way. As Elder Aman Ullah points out, “We need to understand that we all belonged to Burma since the day of independence.”
On March 2, 1962, General Ne Win seized power in a military coup. And in 1964, he excluded the Rohingya language from Burmese Broadcasting Service (BBC). Ten years later, Ne Win’s military government started to draft a new constitution. It legalized discriminatory policy against Rohingya but was not recognized by the international community and was known as “black law.” However, it was declared the national constitution in 1982. What the military government did to us with the pen harmed us more than their physical attacks.[1]
By 2014, we were obliged to say that we were Bengali instead of Rohingya in the national census. No Rohingya Muslim candidates could run for parliament. In 2017, our unclear legal status legitimized attacks against us as a group. Neighbors turned their backs as the military burned our homes and killed anyone who did not leave.
By the grace of God and the goodwill of the Bangladeshi government, we found shelter where we now live. International groups allied with the United Nations have helped us build temporary shelters, set up schools and houses of worship, and work, or rather, volunteer.
One of us volunteered not just for a month, a summer, or a year, but for two years–even longer than the international teams, who got paid. Once again, unclear legal status holds us back. Without the rights given to other refugees, we cannot even have bank accounts.
Although Bangladesh saved us, it is not a party to the 1951 Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees and has not yet signed it. Convention-signing countries agree to “give sympathetic consideration to assimilating the rights of all refugees with regard to wage-earning employment.”[2]
Granting us refugee status would allow us to repay our host country for all that they have done. Of course, we also dream of reclaiming our Myanmar citizenship. You lawyers of the future can surely understand our plight. Would any of you one day help us win the opportunity to work and live as citizens again?
A proverb of ours is “Zou Háilé Háiyóm, Hímmót No Háráiyóm,” which means, “Even if we have to eat powdered rice, we will never lose our guts.” We will persevere through thick and thin.
Thank you for sending hope in our direction, as we wish you good luck with the fall semester!
[1] For more details, please visit Ekkhaale.org.
[2] CPRSR Article 17.