alim is a small boy, but his voice is commanding. His favorite song once floated above the paddy fields of Myanmar’s Rakhine state, heard only by a few grazing cattle and the heavens. Composed in October last year in a melodic dialect similar to Bengali, the words now fall on the rapt ears of children in the world’s largest refugee camp, reminding them why they are there.
What did the miscreants do?
How could they kill our dearest people
What did the culprits do?
Burned everyone, kneeling down