Amid violence and struggle, small rooms still house big dreams
After 2.5 years, we sat with Shafia and Simran again at their residence in Geneva Camp. The two aspiring nursing students from 2022 share how they took on different career paths, but with one goal — to get out
The three of us sat comfortably on the bed while one of Simran's younger sisters sat at a study table.
The early December "chill" did not make it into the room. The pink and white Barbie study table stood out in the well-lit 9x7 feet room. "Hey, I know the answers to these," said Shafia, smirking and holding up a white sheet. It was a questionnaire from Simran's nursing class.
We picked up where we left off some years ago — the two 21-year-old second-generation Geneva Camp residents, Simran Akter and Shafia Siddiqui, remain good friends and are determined to secure financial independence.
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In the summer of 2022, they enrolled into a nursing program. Later, while one switched her college, another had to drop out and pursue a different diploma and even start a bakery business in the camp.
This summer, like everyone else in the country, their lives also came to a halt, save for one glaring difference — violence inside the camp kept intensifying after 5 August. Only in the last weeks of November did it simmer down.
But they remain unfazed. They just want to carve out a different life than that of their parents and move out of the camp.
'Determined to be a nurse'
The nursing entrance exam scheduled to take place in November 2022 was postponed. "We finally sat for it in May 2023. The question paper was quite difficult," recalled Simran.
She scored 56, far below her expectations and one that took her out of the running for public nursing college admission. She secured admission at CRP for a diploma in midwifery at a cost of Tk60,000 with a scholarship covering a large percentage.
Khalid Hussain, a friend of Simran and Shafia's families, manages a scholarship programme which was started in October 2015 by the New York-based Ahmad Family Foundation. Khalid said earlier that the foundation has provided scholarships to 200 to 250 Bihari students in Bangladesh per year since 2016.
During the time of admission at CRP, which is a residential program, Simran and her family asked the authorities to make an exception. "I could not have stayed there. What would happen to my students?" she explained.
Both Simran and Shafia tutor students in and outside the camp. The tuition income is vital.
In two months, Simran decided, after consulting with Khalid, that she would switch to another nursing college without a refund. "The classes were not consistent," she said. Perhaps more consequential was finding out that Simran had to stay overnight.
In August 2023, Simran enrolled at Dynamic Nursing College in Mohammadpur. Her days generally start at 7am and end by 1 am the following day after she concludes her own studies, college and private tuition.
After finishing the diploma course, Simran will have to sit for a licence exam, which will make her eligible for clinical practice by 2027. After all this, she is looking at a Tk20,000 starting salary.
She can also choose to pursue a BSc degree and a Masters for higher pay. "I also know of work opportunities in Kuwait, and heard from college that after my license exam, I can work jobs there with a starting salary of Tk1 lakh a month," Simran said.
Simran lives in a house with two 9x7 feet rooms on different floors, with her parents and three younger sisters. The family owns it and does not have to worry about rent.
'My father always encourages business'
Shafia's nursing journey was short-lived. "I went with luck [to sit for the exam], not preparation," she said. She had to look after her mother who fell ill in early 2023. "The bills were high, every other day we had to take her to see a doctor and they couldn't say what was wrong. She had fluctuating blood pressure."
Shafia scored 40 in the exam, barely passing it. With the scholarship and after sitting for another exam, she was able to afford a private nursing program at Ibn Sina College in Kallyanpur. "I was shocked to learn that the scholarship doesn't give 100% coverage," Shafia recounted.
At a day's notice, her father had to manage Tk12,000 for the Tk60,000 diploma fee.
Shafia remembers being a class topper. But the pressure quickly mounted. "There was a day when I had a strange and intense neck pain, I woke up with it and it would not go away," said Shafia.
Perhaps a spasm, but between her students and college course, Shafia could not manage. She had to be taken to the hospital eventually. "Our course was very strict, one sick leave meant a Tk200 fine. My mother could not see me like this. She would say, 'Just quit'."
Unlike Simran, Shafia's family rents their approximately 11x6 feet rooms. Her father and she are the only earning members in a family of six, including three younger brothers.
This summer, like everyone else in the country, their lives also came to a halt, save for one glaring difference — violence inside the camp kept intensifying after 5 August. Only in the last weeks of November did it simmer down. But they remain unfazed. They just want to carve out a different life than that of their parents and move out of the camp.
In total, the nursing diploma would cost the family Tk3.60 lakh, of which a large portion would be covered by the scholarship. "But then there are other expenses such as stationery and textbooks," she added.
After her class and teaching students, Shafia would return home by 11 pm. Shafia could not keep up.
By the end of the year, Shafia enrolled in UCEP for a diploma course in baking. The NGO offers courses for free, "but the competition is tough," explained Shafia, who learned about the organisation from Khalid. She sat for an admission exam and passed. The same courses cost Tk20,000 for those who do not make the cut and can afford to make the payment.
In December 2023, Shafia started her baking course. There are levels of courses, which take the student a step closer to becoming a certified practitioner of a trade, such as baking, cooking, cosmetics beautification and sewing/block-batik.
By March this year, Shafia started to bake cakes and biscuits in the camp for sale. "Things took off, my first outlet was my father's grocery store," she said.
Within a couple of months, she was earning a profit of Tk10,000-15,000 a month from the cake sales. "Just thinking about those days makes me feel so happy."
Her father, a staunch supporter of business, helped. They rented another space in the camp. "I bought a fridge for Tk20,000 for the business."
Shafia loaned Tk50,000 for the business expenditures from a loan shark. "Every Tuesday, I have to make a Tk1,500 payment. I have 14 more weeks of payments."
But business came to a screeching halt by the end of July.
Violence like never before
At the Geneva Camp, violence took a deadly turn reportedly for two main reasons: pre-Hasina's ousting, Awami League officials supplied weapons to Geneva camp gang members for use against student protestors; secondly, when police stations were left unattended in Mohammadpur, weapons were looted and many were brought to the camp.
This unleashed a new violent reality in the overcrowded camp.
"We had never seen anything like it. Stones reached our house!" said Simran. Her house is located near the centre of the camp and has traditionally been spared from violence.
"And to say nothing of what happened and what we saw!" said Shafia. "Right in front of my alley, there was so much gunfire and clashes."
Two warring gangs, each presumably armed to the teeth with new weapons, did not hold back. "Even imams would announce that they pause the fighting during prayers, but who would listen!?"
In the camp, eventually, the police and army raids started. "The main culprits flee. It's the innocent ones who get picked up." The violence which engulfed Mohammadpur, not just the camp, also altered perceptions.
"Earlier, it was bad enough if we told outsiders that we lived in the camp. But now! If I mention Mohammadpur, they say 'Oh dacoits!' And if I say the camp, then it's 'Terrorists!'" said Shafia.
In the midst of all this, Shafia's cake shop remained shuttered, incurring losses. She continued her courses at UCEP and looked for soft skill training. "I look at them as opportunities, not courses," she explained, who enrolled or got selected for at least two other training programs at UCEP. "Some of these courses prioritise 'minorities' — which helps my case."
Not just this, Shafia opened a Facebook page for her cake business and intends to invest time to boost the page. At the same time, she plans to pick up more private tuition students starting next month.
"Something is bound to pan out," she said, who is also looking at "caregiver" training. "It seems very lucrative and the organisation helps certified caregivers to work abroad."
After her two-year course, and "assessment" exams, Shafia will become eligible to train and practice the trade. "I am looking at Tk30,000 monthly as the starting salary."
While moving out of the camp is the dream, this 21-year-old is not in a rush. "I have seen others who move out and after some time, they are compelled to come back. You see we don't have to pay utilities bills, etc here. So I want to make sure I do not have to return."
"2027 if not by late 2026," she said – at the risk of her wide smile leaving a permanent mark on her face.
