By Ruma Paul and Sam Jahan
COX'S BAZAR, Bangladesh, April 21 (Reuters) - Rohingya refugee Rahila Begum spent two days adrift in the Andaman Sea this month, clinging to a wooden shard after her overcrowded boat capsized, one of the few survivors of a disaster that left 250 missing and feared dead.
She was among the thousands of Rohingya Muslims who brave hunger and accidents on rickety boats each year to flee desperate conditions in camps in southeastern Bangladesh for countries such as Indonesia and Malaysia.
Hundreds die en route from hunger or accidents at sea, but the numbers keep growing as shrinking food rations caused by dwindling international aid push yet more to make the dangerous crossing.
"I never thought I would survive," said Begum, her voice thready from fever and aches as she sat, wrapped in a blanket, on a thin mat in her parents' shack thrown together from tarpaulin sheets. "It felt like the end of my life."
The 26-year-old was rescued by a passing Bangladeshi oil tanker after her boat, with nearly 300 aboard, sank this month on its way to Malaysia, and later handed to the country's Coast Guard.
Bangladesh's coastal district of Cox's Bazar is home to nearly 1.2 million Rohingya, many of whom fled persecution and fighting in Buddhist-majority Myanmar, where they are accused of being outsiders.
Trapped for years, denied the right to work, receiving only limited education and shrinking food aid, few see a future in Bangladesh and cannot risk returning to Myanmar.
U.N. refugee agency UNHCR says nearly 900 Rohingya were reported missing or dead in the Andaman Sea and Bay of Bengal in 2025, making it the deadliest year on record for regional sea crossings, with more than 6,500 attempted.
Between January and mid-April this year, more than 2,800 Rohingya attempted such journeys, the agency says.
"The Rohingya population is very young and aspires to a better life, but that hope is increasingly turning into desperation," said Astrid Castelein, a UNHCR official.
"That is why youths and families are deciding to take these dangerous boat journeys."
Authorities have stepped up coastal patrols and surveillance of the camps to curb trafficking networks, a Bangladesh official said, speaking on condition of anonymity, but acknowledged that the scale of desperation made enforcement difficult.
'RATION CUTS MEAN NO MEAT OR FISH'
Begum's arms and body are scarred with burns caused by spills of hot engine oil mixed with seawater.
She left Myanmar in 2017 during a military crackdown that sent more than 730,000 Rohingya to Bangladesh amid accusations of killings, mass rape and arson – acts a United Nations mission later described as "genocidal", a charge Myanmar denies.
Things worsened after her marriage four years ago, she said.
"I was beaten because I could not have children. I knew I had to flee. There was no life left for me here," she said, adding that her husband had refused to take her back.
This month the U.N. World Food Programme began distributing food rations in Cox's Bazar on the basis of households’ earning capacity.
The monthly sums handed out range from $12 per person for the most vulnerable to $7 for those deemed food insecure, with families headed by children, women and the elderly getting the most support.
"My ration has been cut from $12 to $7 because I have an 18‑year‑old son," said Mohammed Rafiq, 50, a father of four. "But does he earn anything?"
The money was enough to buy only rice and cooking oil but not the fish or meat his children hanker for.
"We are living in inhumane conditions," he added, fighting a lack of proper food, shelter, freedom, education and work. "Even if my children leave by sea one day, I would not be surprised."
ROHINGYA TURNS TRAFFICKER AFTER BEING TRAFFICKED
That desperation is often exploited by traffickers, many of whom are Rohingya themselves.
Among them is a 24-year-old who identified himself by his nickname, Faisal, who said he had sent 20 people, three women and two children among them, on the capsized boat, but none survived the disaster.
He avoided the telephone calls of families seeking answers, he said. "They keep calling again and again … sometimes I just switch off my phone."
Faisal said he first travelled to Malaysia in 2018 with the help of traffickers before returning to the camps to enter the trade.
Although Bangladesh jailed him in 2020 for a year in a human trafficking case, that did not stop him from taking up the trade again after his release.
Reuters could not independently confirm his account.
Such journeys usually peak during the calmer winter months, Faisal added, but many desperate to get away from the camps are now willing to take more risks.
"They come to us asking for a way out," he said. "They know the risks – some make it, some are arrested, some die."
(Reporting by Ruma Paul and Sam Jahan in Cox's Bazar; Editing by Krishna N. Das and Clarence Fernandez)
