We returned home to find my grandmother cut into pieces.
My father told me that if we had left the house five minutes later, we would have all been murdered, just like my grandmother. All the houses in our community were also burned down during the massacre. Because my father was the only one courageous enough to lodge a report against the police and military who caused the incident, the authorities hunted us down instead of protecting us. To escape, we sold everything we had and made our way to Malaysia.
My father told me many times that we should be grateful living as a registered refugee here. But a refugee’s life is not easy. Our life is uncertain. We go to a community school but my parents say that what we learn in school is not recognized. We don’t even play at the nearby field because my father says it is not safe. My father always finds it difficult to make ends meet.
Both my parents say that we are still young. Although they love us a lot, they wish we could be adopted so that we are able to attend proper schools, get a better education and live a normal life. I don’t understand why my family must be separated so that we can have a better life.
