A human rights lawyer who fought to end the "ghost" status of stateless people in Kyrgyzstan, was on Wednesday named the winner of the U.N. refugee agency's prestigious Nansen award.

The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) hailed Azizbek Ashurov for helping Kyrgyzstan to become the world's first country to end statelessness, working through his organisation Ferghana Valley Lawyers Without Borders (FVLWB).

He has helped more than 10,000 people gain Kyrgyz nationality after they became stateless following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the agency said in a statement.

"I cannot stand still when I see an injustice," Ashurov said in the statement. "Statelessness is injustice".

"A stateless person is not recognised by any state," he said. "They are like ghosts. They exist physically, but they don't exist on paper."

Ashurov will receive his award at a ceremony in Geneva next Monday.

Thanks to his work, around 2,000 children have been handed a right to education, and a future in which they will be free to travel, marry and work, UNHCR said.

"Azizbek Ashurov's story is one of great personal resolve and tenacity," UNHCR chief Filippo Grandi said in the statement.&nbsp;

"His commitment to the cause of eradicating statelessness in Kyrgyzstan ... is a compelling example of the power of an individual to inspire and mobilise collective action," he added.&nbsp;

Ashurov was motivated by his own family's struggle to achieve Kyrgyz citizenship after arriving from Uzbekistan.

'Stranded'

During the Soviet era, there were no internal borders, and people moved across Central Asia with only internal documentation.

But after the Soviet Union was dissolved in 1991, "many people became stranded across newly established borders, often with now-invalid Soviet passports or no means to prove where they were born," the UNHCR noted.

This left hundreds of thousands of people stateless throughout the region, including in Kyrgyzstan.

Statelessness, which affects millions worldwide, leaves people politically and economically marginalised, often discriminated against and particularly vulnerable to exploitation and abuse, according to UNHCR.

In the former Soviet Union, women were disproportionately affected by the problem, since they had been more likely to move to marry. And due to hereditary citizenship laws, their statelessness was passed on to their children, UNHCR said.

Ashurov helped found Ferghana Valley Lawyers Without Borders (FVLWB) in 2003 to provide free legal advice and assistance to stateless and undocumented people in the southern part of the country.

He and FVLWB formed mobile legal teams which travelled to remote areas of the south of the country, sometimes on horseback, to find vulnerable and socially marginalised groups.

The Nansen prize, awarded annually, is named for Norwegian polar explorer Fridtjof Nansen, who served as the first High Commissioner for refugees during the failed League of Nations.

Last year's winner was&nbsp;South Sudanese doctor Evan Atar Adaha, who runs an overcrowded hospital to service refugees from Blue Nile State.

A human rights lawyer who fought to end the "ghost" status of stateless people in Kyrgyzstan, was on Wednesday named the winner of the U.N. refugee agency's prestigious Nansen award.

A human rights lawyer who fought to end the "ghost" status of stateless people in Kyrgyzstan, was on Wednesday named the winner of the U.N. refugee agency's prestigious Nansen award. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) hailed Azizbek Ashurov for helping Kyrgyzstan to become the world's first country to end statelessness, working through his organisation Ferghana Valley Lawyers Without Borders (FVLWB). He has helped more than 10,000 people gain Kyrgyz nationality after they became stateless following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the agency said in a statement. "I cannot stand still when I see an injustice," Ashurov said in the statement. "Statelessness is injustice". "A stateless person is not recognised by any state," he said. "They are like ghosts. They exist physically, but they don't exist on paper." Ashurov will receive his award at a ceremony in Geneva next Monday. Thanks to his work, around 2,000 children have been handed a right to education, and a future in which they will be free to travel, marry and work, UNHCR said. "Azizbek Ashurov's story is one of great personal resolve and tenacity," UNHCR chief Filippo Grandi said in the statement. "His commitment to the cause of eradicating statelessness in Kyrgyzstan ... is a compelling example of the power of an individual to inspire and mobilise collective action," he added. Ashurov was motivated by his own family's struggle to achieve Kyrgyz citizenship after arriving from Uzbekistan. 'Stranded' During the Soviet era, there were no internal borders, and people moved across Central Asia with only internal documentation. But after the Soviet Union was dissolved in 1991, "many people became stranded across newly established borders, often with now-invalid Soviet passports or no means to prove where they were born," the UNHCR noted. This left hundreds of thousands of people stateless throughout the region, including in Kyrgyzstan. Statelessness, which affects millions worldwide, leaves people politically and economically marginalised, often discriminated against and particularly vulnerable to exploitation and abuse, according to UNHCR. In the former Soviet Union, women were disproportionately affected by the problem, since they had been more likely to move to marry. And due to hereditary citizenship laws, their statelessness was passed on to their children, UNHCR said. Ashurov helped found Ferghana Valley Lawyers Without Borders (FVLWB) in 2003 to provide free legal advice and assistance to stateless and undocumented people in the southern part of the country. He and FVLWB formed mobile legal teams which travelled to remote areas of the south of the country, sometimes on horseback, to find vulnerable and socially marginalised groups. The Nansen prize, awarded annually, is named for Norwegian polar explorer Fridtjof Nansen, who served as the first High Commissioner for refugees during the failed League of Nations. Last year's winner was South Sudanese doctor Evan Atar Adaha, who runs an overcrowded hospital to service refugees from Blue Nile State.

Kyrgyz lawyer wins United Nations prize for battling statelessness

<div>It was probably the longest and most&nbsp;treacherous&nbsp;walk&nbsp;Nizamuddin&nbsp;had ever&nbsp;taken in his life, but he was fleeing&nbsp;death&nbsp;and somehow the&nbsp;distance&nbsp;became inconsequential.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Walking westwards&nbsp;over mountains and&nbsp;through jungles&nbsp;was his only chance at survival.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Like all&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;Muslims, he comes from&nbsp;Rakhine,&nbsp;Myanmar&#39;s&nbsp;western coastal state.&nbsp;The violence being meted out to his community&nbsp;in the&nbsp;Buddhist&nbsp;majority&nbsp;country&nbsp;left him with no option but to escape, leaving behind his wife and&nbsp;children, to&nbsp;first&nbsp;save his life.&nbsp; 
 
&quot;I walked&nbsp;for&nbsp;one night and one day through?mountains,?jungle and?paddy fields.&nbsp;Then I&nbsp;rode in&nbsp;a small paddle boat&nbsp;to reach Bangladesh.&nbsp;It was the first time I&nbsp;had set foot in another&nbsp;country. I did not&nbsp;know the language, I had no passport, no legal documents.&nbsp;I was scared,&rdquo; recalls&nbsp;Nizamuddin, chairman of the Delhi-based&nbsp;Rohingya&nbsp;Refugees&#39;&nbsp;Committee.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
After reaching Bangladesh&nbsp;in 2012, he lived for five months in a small hut in the seaport city of Chittagong,&nbsp;surviving one day at a time.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Nizamuddin&nbsp;did not feel safe there, he was&nbsp;an illegal immigrant,&nbsp;and he could be arrested&nbsp;any time.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&nbsp; 
&ldquo;I tried to return to Myanmar. I was&nbsp;worried&nbsp;because&nbsp;my three small children and my wife were still there&nbsp;and their lives were in danger. They wanted to join me in Bangladesh, but I myself was unsafe. How could I bring my children there? I&nbsp;thought&nbsp;it&nbsp;would be better if they&nbsp;died&nbsp;in Myanmar.&nbsp;At least there&nbsp;they&nbsp;could get a proper burial.&nbsp;Nobody would&nbsp;even&nbsp;help&nbsp;bury them&nbsp;if they&nbsp;died&nbsp;in Bangladesh.&rdquo;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
India&nbsp;emerged as an option while speaking to other&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;stranded in Bangladesh.&nbsp;That seemed the only way out of the precarious lives they were leading.&nbsp;Once in India,&nbsp;he&nbsp;could&nbsp;apply for the refugee card issued by the United Nation High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR). A document that would&nbsp;end&nbsp;his status of&nbsp;being an&nbsp;illegal immigrant. That opened up the&nbsp;possibility&nbsp;of applying for a&nbsp;long-term visa.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Nizamuddin&nbsp;decided to take&nbsp;his chance&nbsp;--&nbsp;he left&nbsp;his&nbsp;hut and reached the border.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
&quot;There?were?some agents there and we had to pay them.&nbsp;I paid 7,000?Takas?(roughly $90) to reach India. Later,&nbsp;I&nbsp;told&nbsp;my wife how to join me.&nbsp;I&nbsp;hired an&nbsp;agent and&nbsp;my family&nbsp;also came to India.&quot;&nbsp; 
 
Nizamuddin&nbsp;has been officially recognised as a refugee&nbsp;now and&nbsp;holds&nbsp;an UNHCR&nbsp;card.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
His&nbsp;is not a one-off story.&nbsp;A&nbsp;majority of the 36,000&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;currently living on Indian soil followed a similar route.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
<img src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/The-Rohingya-Crisis-Timeline-20160621110145.jpg" width="1000px" /> 
 
In 2012,&nbsp;they fled Myanmar to reach Bangladesh,&nbsp;and after living&nbsp;hand-to-mouth for a while, they took their chance to cross the Indian&nbsp;border. At every crossing point&nbsp;they&nbsp;paid money that&nbsp;added to the&nbsp;fortunes&nbsp;of an underworld of agents profiting from their&nbsp;crisis.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&quot;Everybody?had to pay,&quot;?says&nbsp;Ali Khan,&nbsp;29,&nbsp;a refugee also living in Delhi.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
He&nbsp;was among the one million&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;who&nbsp;fled Myanmar after the outbreak of violent&nbsp;anti-Muslim&nbsp;riots in the country in 2012.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
&ldquo;I had to leave and there were only two ways for me. One was to Malaysia by boat and the other to India&nbsp;over land. I chose India&nbsp;as trying to cross&nbsp;by boat is very dangerous,&rdquo; he recalls.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Cross-border smuggling, be&nbsp;it&nbsp;of&nbsp;humans&nbsp;or goods, has always been a lucrative activity,&nbsp;and so&nbsp;it&nbsp;has been during the&nbsp;Rohingya&nbsp;exodus.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Sometimes the price quoted for a crossing into India went up to $500 like in the case&nbsp;of&nbsp;Naseen&nbsp;Akhtar, a rice farmer&nbsp;from&nbsp;Myanmar.&nbsp; 
Akhtar had to sell-off some family gold&nbsp;to afford the&nbsp;crossing.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
As per personal testimonies recorded by this correspondent, the majority had to pay between $100 and $140&nbsp;for the trip to India.&nbsp;A&nbsp;rough calculation&nbsp;points to&nbsp;a black-money circuit worth more than $3.5 million, a part of which&nbsp;has definitely&nbsp;ended up in the pockets of the personnel&nbsp;guarding the&nbsp;checkpoints&nbsp;at the international border between India and Bangladesh.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
A&nbsp;hundred dollars may not seem&nbsp;like&nbsp;a prohibitive amount&nbsp;to some,&nbsp;but it is a matter of perspective.&nbsp;For&nbsp;someone without a steady source of&nbsp;income for months,&nbsp;putting together this money can become a struggle &ndash; one marking the difference between life and death.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
In South Asian countries,&nbsp;often,&nbsp;even a salary is&nbsp;not enough and millions of working households survive with less than $2 a day.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
In Bangladesh,&nbsp;a filling&nbsp;meal in a good restaurant with air conditioning costs about&nbsp;$3. A meal on the roadside,&nbsp;comprising&nbsp;rice, vegetables and&nbsp;daal&nbsp;(lentil soup)&nbsp;can be&nbsp;had&nbsp;for roughly $1.&nbsp;A&nbsp;kilogram&nbsp;of&nbsp;average quality rice is priced&nbsp;at&nbsp;nearly&nbsp;50&nbsp;cents.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
The&nbsp;exodus of&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;from Myanmar&nbsp;took place&nbsp;in 2012, a point of no return for the&nbsp;Muslim&nbsp;citizens of the Rakhine region.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
Violence broke out&nbsp;following&nbsp;rumours&nbsp;that some&nbsp;Muslim men&nbsp;had&nbsp;allegedly raped&nbsp;a&nbsp;Buddhist woman.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
In the first four days, 21&nbsp;were killed and as many as 1,500 houses burnt.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Then&nbsp;president&nbsp;Thein Sein declared&nbsp;a&nbsp;state of emergency.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
In the following months, more than 90,000&nbsp;fled their homes and&nbsp;2,000&nbsp;buildings, including mosques and temples, were destroyed. The wave of inter-religious clashes&nbsp;devastated the social fabric of the region, bringing to an end the rather pacific?coexistence?between the Buddhist majority and the?Muslim?minority.?&nbsp; 
 
Myanmar president declared that&nbsp;Rohingya&nbsp;Muslims were not welcome any more in the country, stating that&nbsp;&ldquo;the only solution is to hand them over to the UNHCR or resettle them in third countries that are&nbsp;willing to take them&rdquo;.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
<img src="http://s.wionews.com/photos/2-20160621105747.jpg" width="1000px" /></div>

<div> 
&ldquo;I had no choice. If it was not for&nbsp;the&nbsp;agents, I could not&nbsp;have brought&nbsp;my children&nbsp;to&nbsp;India. They helped&nbsp;save my life,&rdquo; says Nizamuddin.&nbsp;Clearly, at times of&nbsp;crisis,&nbsp;actions are&nbsp;judged differently.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Agents at the&nbsp;international&nbsp;borders make economic profit out of a&nbsp;humanitarian crisis, something that&nbsp;can&nbsp;hardly&nbsp;be defined as&nbsp;help. But when life is in peril, survival&nbsp;becomes the only priority,&nbsp;and judgement starts following different parameters.&nbsp; 
 
When one flees a country to escape violence, crossing the border alive and free is what matters the most.&nbsp;In the eyes of&nbsp;the one fleeing violence, the&nbsp;agent becomes someone who &ldquo;helps&rdquo; and not&nbsp;some who&nbsp;&ldquo;exploits&rdquo;.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
&ldquo;I know these people are not good, but we had no&nbsp;other&nbsp;option for saving&nbsp;our lives.&nbsp;As&nbsp;far as I am concerned,&nbsp;they have&nbsp;helped&nbsp;me,&rdquo; says&nbsp;Nizamuddin.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
The 2012 riots did not&nbsp;take place all of a sudden or because of a chance flare-up of communal discord.&nbsp;There is a historical context to it and life has never been easy for the&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;in Myanmar. 
&nbsp; 
Historically, they have&nbsp;been treated as&nbsp;foreigners in their own country,&nbsp;unwitting&nbsp;victims&nbsp;of ethnic&nbsp;origin&nbsp;being used for political&nbsp;ends. ?&nbsp; 
 
Over the years, the ?military&nbsp;Junta&nbsp;has&nbsp;supported the?nationalist narration that defines&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;as Bangladeshi immigrants rather than?as&nbsp;a?native Myanmar ethnic group,&nbsp;mainly to keep the&nbsp;Buddhist?majority&nbsp;happy. 
 
They were issued?&nbsp;only temporary identity cards&nbsp;and were&nbsp;not allowed to move freely in the country. Even getting a child enrolled in a&nbsp;government school&nbsp;or&nbsp;applying for&nbsp;a&nbsp;government job&nbsp;was a&nbsp;tough task. 
&nbsp; 
Historians have been - and are -&nbsp;trying to understand the origin&nbsp;of the Muslim presence in the state of Rakhine, but whatever&nbsp;the&nbsp;conclusion,&nbsp;the&nbsp;Rohingya&nbsp;identity&nbsp;is a fact today.&nbsp; 
 
The ?newly&nbsp;elected?&nbsp;democratic?government?is not willing to admit&nbsp;this and chooses to&nbsp;persist with&nbsp;the nationalist?narration. 
&nbsp; 
According to&nbsp;state&nbsp;counsellor and Nobel Peace Price laureate&nbsp;Aung ?Saan ?Su ?Kyi, ?Myanmar has more urgent?&nbsp;problems ?to solve. 
 
She ?recently requested ?several foreign?&nbsp;diplomatic ?missions?in the country ?to ?stop ?using the ?term?&nbsp;Rohingya ?for&nbsp;what she believes&nbsp;is&nbsp;a Bangladeshi minority.&nbsp; 
 
With the Myanmar government not recognising them as&nbsp;citizens, it is always hard for the&nbsp;Rohingyas&nbsp;to prove&nbsp;their identity.&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 
Many&nbsp;give in and&nbsp;end&nbsp;up accepting&nbsp;a vulnerable life&nbsp;as illegal immigrants&nbsp;on&nbsp;the margins&nbsp;of society. A life with little or no hope&nbsp;for&nbsp;returning&nbsp;to&nbsp;their country, their homes, their&nbsp;livelihoods, their fields.&nbsp; 
 
After all this is what being a refugee means: living&nbsp;a life&nbsp;not of ones&nbsp;choosing, knowing what is left behind,&nbsp;but not what&nbsp;lies&nbsp;ahead.&nbsp;It&#39;s a&nbsp;life&nbsp;based on&nbsp;constant&nbsp;uncertainty where future is hardly a positive variable.&nbsp; 
 
Future is a word that resonates more with anxiety rather than hope for a refugee like&nbsp;Nizamuddin. His children are growing up and&nbsp;they sometimes ask some simple questions. But the answers are not that simple&nbsp;to come by.&nbsp; 
 
&ldquo;My children ask me where is our home, where we&nbsp;will be&nbsp;in&nbsp;future, where we will get educated... I have no answer.&nbsp;I can&nbsp;only offer&nbsp;silence,&rdquo; says&nbsp;Nizamuddin.</div>

Persecuted in Myanmar, they must flee the country. But then that involves crossing borders. And that in turn costs a lot of money

It was probably the longest and most treacherous walk Nizamuddin had ever taken in his life, but he was fleeing death and somehow the distance became inconsequential. Walking westwards over mountains and through jungles was his only chance at survival. Like all Rohingyas Muslims, he comes from Rakhine, Myanmar's western coastal state. The violence being meted out to his community in the Buddhist majority country left him with no option but to escape, leaving behind his wife and children, to first save his life. "I walked for one night and one day through?mountains,?jungle and?paddy fields. Then I rode in a small paddle boat to reach Bangladesh. It was the first time I had set foot in another country. I did not know the language, I had no passport, no legal documents. I was scared,” recalls Nizamuddin, chairman of the Delhi-based Rohingya Refugees' Committee. After reaching Bangladesh in 2012, he lived for five months in a small hut in the seaport city of Chittagong, surviving one day at a time. Nizamuddin did not feel safe there, he was an illegal immigrant, and he could be arrested any time. “I tried to return to Myanmar. I was worried because my three small children and my wife were still there and their lives were in danger. They wanted to join me in Bangladesh, but I myself was unsafe. How could I bring my children there? I thought it would be better if they died in Myanmar. At least there they could get a proper burial. Nobody would even help bury them if they died in Bangladesh.” India emerged as an option while speaking to other Rohingyas stranded in Bangladesh. That seemed the only way out of the precarious lives they were leading. Once in India, he could apply for the refugee card issued by the United Nation High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR). A document that would end his status of being an illegal immigrant. That opened up the possibility of applying for a long-term visa. Nizamuddin decided to take his chance -- he left his hut and reached the border. "There?were?some agents there and we had to pay them. I paid 7,000?Takas?(roughly $90) to reach India. Later, I told my wife how to join me. I hired an agent and my family also came to India." Nizamuddin has been officially recognised as a refugee now and holds an UNHCR card. His is not a one-off story. A majority of the 36,000 Rohingyas currently living on Indian soil followed a similar route. In 2012, they fled Myanmar to reach Bangladesh, and after living hand-to-mouth for a while, they took their chance to cross the Indian border. At every crossing point they paid money that added to the fortunes of an underworld of agents profiting from their crisis. "Everybody?had to pay,"?says Ali Khan, 29, a refugee also living in Delhi. He was among the one million Rohingyas who fled Myanmar after the outbreak of violent anti-Muslim riots in the country in 2012. “I had to leave and there were only two ways for me. One was to Malaysia by boat and the other to India over land. I chose India as trying to cross by boat is very dangerous,” he recalls. Cross-border smuggling, be it of humans or goods, has always been a lucrative activity, and so it has been during the Rohingya exodus. Sometimes the price quoted for a crossing into India went up to $500 like in the case of Naseen Akhtar, a rice farmer from Myanmar. Akhtar had to sell-off some family gold to afford the crossing. As per personal testimonies recorded by this correspondent, the majority had to pay between $100 and $140 for the trip to India. A rough calculation points to a black-money circuit worth more than $3.5 million, a part of which has definitely ended up in the pockets of the personnel guarding the checkpoints at the international border between India and Bangladesh. A hundred dollars may not seem like a prohibitive amount to some, but it is a matter of perspective. For someone without a steady source of income for months, putting together this money can become a struggle – one marking the difference between life and death. In South Asian countries, often, even a salary is not enough and millions of working households survive with less than $2 a day. In Bangladesh, a filling meal in a good restaurant with air conditioning costs about $3. A meal on the roadside, comprising rice, vegetables and daal (lentil soup) can be had for roughly $1. A kilogram of average quality rice is priced at nearly 50 cents. The exodus of Rohingyas from Myanmar took place in 2012, a point of no return for the Muslim citizens of the Rakhine region. Violence broke out following rumours that some Muslim men had allegedly raped a Buddhist woman. In the first four days, 21 were killed and as many as 1,500 houses burnt. Then president Thein Sein declared a state of emergency. In the following months, more than 90,000 fled their homes and 2,000 buildings, including mosques and temples, were destroyed. The wave of inter-religious clashes devastated the social fabric of the region, bringing to an end the rather pacific?coexistence?between the Buddhist majority and the?Muslim?minority.? Myanmar president declared that Rohingya Muslims were not welcome any more in the country, stating that “the only solution is to hand them over to the UNHCR or resettle them in third countries that are willing to take them”. “I had no choice. If it was not for the agents, I could not have brought my children to India. They helped save my life,” says Nizamuddin. Clearly, at times of crisis, actions are judged differently. Agents at the international borders make economic profit out of a humanitarian crisis, something that can hardly be defined as help. But when life is in peril, survival becomes the only priority, and judgement starts following different parameters. When one flees a country to escape violence, crossing the border alive and free is what matters the most. In the eyes of the one fleeing violence, the agent becomes someone who “helps” and not some who “exploits”. “I know these people are not good, but we had no other option for saving our lives. As far as I am concerned, they have helped me,” says Nizamuddin. The 2012 riots did not take place all of a sudden or because of a chance flare-up of communal discord. There is a historical context to it and life has never been easy for the Rohingyas in Myanmar. Historically, they have been treated as foreigners in their own country, unwitting victims of ethnic origin being used for political ends. ? Over the years, the ?military Junta has supported the?nationalist narration that defines Rohingyas as Bangladeshi immigrants rather than?as a?native Myanmar ethnic group, mainly to keep the Buddhist?majority happy. They were issued? only temporary identity cards and were not allowed to move freely in the country. Even getting a child enrolled in a government school or applying for a government job was a tough task. Historians have been - and are - trying to understand the origin of the Muslim presence in the state of Rakhine, but whatever the conclusion, the Rohingya identity is a fact today. The ?newly elected? democratic?government?is not willing to admit this and chooses to persist with the nationalist?narration. According to state counsellor and Nobel Peace Price laureate Aung ?Saan ?Su ?Kyi, ?Myanmar has more urgent? problems ?to solve. She ?recently requested ?several foreign? diplomatic ?missions?in the country ?to ?stop ?using the ?term? Rohingya ?for what she believes is a Bangladeshi minority. With the Myanmar government not recognising them as citizens, it is always hard for the Rohingyas to prove their identity. Many give in and end up accepting a vulnerable life as illegal immigrants on the margins of society. A life with little or no hope for returning to their country, their homes, their livelihoods, their fields. After all this is what being a refugee means: living a life not of ones choosing, knowing what is left behind, but not what lies ahead. It's a life based on constant uncertainty where future is hardly a positive variable. Future is a word that resonates more with anxiety rather than hope for a refugee like Nizamuddin. His children are growing up and they sometimes ask some simple questions. But the answers are not that simple to come by. “My children ask me where is our home, where we will be in future, where we will get educated... I have no answer. I can only offer silence,” says Nizamuddin.

Rohingya exodus: Hide, run, pay and stay alive

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Kyrgyz lawyer wins United Nations prize for battling statelessness

Rohingya exodus: Hide, run, pay and stay alive