Left Behind: The Rohingya Crisis and the Broken Promise of Universal Health Coverage

During my visit to Camp 24 in Leda, Teknaf, Cox’s Bazar, I came face to face with stories that shook me to my core. The Rohingya refugee crisis is more than a humanitarian disaster; it is a painful reminder of how far we still are from ensuring health, dignity, and safety for all. In the heart of this camp, I witnessed unimaginable suffering and resilience—both intertwined in the lives of a people abandoned by the world.

One encounter left a mark on me that I will never forget. A Rohingya mother, her face lined with grief and exhaustion, shared her story. During their desperate escape from Myanmar in 2017, soldiers opened fire as they fled through the forests. One of her children—a boy no older than 12—was shot and killed in front of her. Through tears, she recounted how she was forced to leave his lifeless body behind to save her two other children. The guilt and heartbreak were etched into her every word, yet she carried on, not for herself, but for the children who still needed her.

Her story played over and over in my mind as I walked through the camp. The unbearable heat wrapped around me, making it difficult to breathe. Sweat poured down my face, and I longed for shade and relief. Yet, I kept thinking—this was only a moment for me. For the Rohingya, this heat is an unrelenting part of their daily lives. They sleep, eat, and live in these suffocating conditions, with no escape from the scorching temperatures that only add to their suffering.

The camp itself, overcrowded and unsanitary, painted a grim picture. Children played barefoot in the dirt near stagnant water, while makeshift shelters barely held up under the weight of the elements. The spread of diseases like cholera and respiratory infections was inevitable in such conditions. Health services, though supported by international organizations and local NGOs, were stretched thin. I visited a Health Post by MedGlobal and saw lines of patients waiting for basic care. Chronic conditions like diabetes and HIV were nearly impossible to manage in such a resource-starved setting. One man I met, living with HIV, spoke of the inconsistency in accessing antiretroviral therapy. His eyes were heavy with fear, knowing that every missed dose brought him closer to a dire outcome.

The challenges of the Rohingya are compounded by climate change. I heard stories of how floods and cyclones repeatedly destroy shelters, contaminate water supplies, and disrupt health services. These natural disasters, growing more frequent and severe, leave already vulnerable populations in even greater peril. The lack of climate-resilient healthcare only deepens their struggles.

What struck me most was the glaring inequity in healthcare access. Refugees in the camps, supported by international aid, often receive better care than many rural Bangladeshis. Yet both groups—refugees and host communities—are victims of underfunded systems. Neither group has access to the robust, inclusive healthcare they deserve, underscoring the systemic failures at play.

As I stood in Camp 24, surrounded by people whose strength humbled me, I realized how easily the world forgets their plight. A mother forced to choose between her children. A father unable to get the treatment he needs. A child growing up without the basic rights we take for granted. These stories are not just theirs—they are a call to action for all of us.

“Health is not a privilege, it is a universal right. The Rohingya crisis is not just a failure of healthcare, but a failure of governance. Until we ensure that no one—citizen or refugee—is left behind, the promise of Universal Health Coverage will remain unfulfilled.”

Health is a universal right, but the Rohingya crisis reveals the failure of governance and global commitment to this principle. On UHC Day, let us remember that health is indeed on the government. Let us demand action to ensure no one—citizen or refugee—is left behind. As I left the camp, the mother’s words lingered in my mind: “I saved two, but I lost one.” Her grief is a reminder that we must not lose our humanity. We owe her—and millions like her—a future where health, dignity, and safety are guaranteed for all.