No difference in praying: Rohingya struggle to find sense of community in Malaysia

Rohingya refugees in Malaysia are struggling to worship freely and rebuild their lives. Their uncertain legal status deepens fears of detention, exclusion and poverty.

Rohingya refugees in Malaysia continue to face difficulties in practising their faith and rebuilding their lives despite finding safety from persecution in Myanmar, according to a report carried by news agency Press Trust of India. Malaysia does not legally recognise refugees, leaving many vulnerable to detention and limiting their access to places of worship, education, healthcare and fair wages.

About 7,00,000 Rohingya fled a military crackdown in Myanmar in 2017 and crossed into neighbouring Bangladesh, according to the UN refugee agency, UNHCR. Others sought refuge in countries including Malaysia, India, Indonesia and Thailand. As of February 2026, about 126,000 Rohingya were registered with UNHCR in Malaysia.

Nur Sadek, who now studies law and advocates for Rohingya rights in Malaysia, was once preparing to become an Islamic scholar. His mother had hoped he would serve as a religious leader in their village in western Myanmar. The Rohingya, a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority, live in Myanmar's Rakhine State alongside Buddhists and a smaller Hindu population, in a region long shaped by ethnic and religious divisions.

Sadek fled Myanmar with his family in 2017 after soldiers opened fire on his community and bullets struck the tin roof of his home. He escaped with only the clothes he was wearing and never returned.

Religious freedom advocacy group CSW said Rohingya refugees in Malaysia cannot officially register their own places of worship, according to the report carried by PTI. Most pray at local mosques, but some face discrimination or stay away because they fear immigration detention. "Religious solidarity is often overtaken by social and cultural differences between the two groups," CSW said.

PERSONAL CRISES LOOM IN

Nurul Hakim, the first of 10 siblings to leave Myanmar, fled in 2010. He reached Kuala Lumpur after travelling for days on foot, by car and by boat through Thailand. Although his family was not directly attacked, years of violence and discrimination had made life increasingly difficult for the Rohingya community.

Rohingya Muslims in Rakhine faced restrictions for years on religious gatherings, access to mosques and Islamic education. Authorities closed mosques and limited communal prayers, according to reports by the United Nations and Amnesty International.

Hakim said he can now pray freely and feels welcomed by local Muslim religious leaders. However, he has heard of Rohingya elsewhere in Malaysia being barred from mosques. Rohingya Rights Response, an organisation co-founded by Sadek to monitor issues affecting refugees in Malaysia, has also documented restrictions on religious practices. Banners saying Rohingya were unwelcome have been displayed outside mosques in some neighbourhoods.

Even where Rohingya can pray freely, they find it difficult to recreate aspects of their religious life away from home. "Most of the Rohingya don't have their own imam leading the prayers because the mosques are run by Malay imams," Sadek said.

Hakim said he misses pulling a rickshaw, trading goods with neighbours and learning about Islam with other Rohingya. "There is no difference in praying at a different mosque, but there are differences with who you are praying with," he said. "When I was back in Myanmar and I went to pray, I could pray with my neighbours, with my villagers, and I don't have that here."

For some refugees, the lack of legal status creates a more immediate barrier. Mohammed Rafique said he mostly prays at home and rarely visits a mosque because he fears encountering immigration authorities. He fled Myanmar in 2009 with his wife and five children, who stayed in Bangladesh while he continued to Malaysia. He has not seen them since.

Rafique earns 30 ringgit, or USD 7.50, a day collecting scrap materials, which is barely enough to pay for his medication. He said the hardest moment was learning that his wife had died when he had been unable to say goodbye. Sadek faced a similar loss after his mother died in Bangladesh. He has yet to visit her grave. "I always wanted to do a lot of stuff, but now I just want to visit her cemetery and that has become like a dream for me," he said.

Sadek's organisation campaigns for greater safety for Rohingya in Malaysia. Besides the risk of immigration detention, it has documented harassment by social media content creators who mock and demean refugees. Sadek also advocates for fair wages and access to healthcare and education.

Zahidah Begum said these challenges are part of daily life. Her husband struggles to work because of health problems, while her school-age children cannot attend formal classes. "I don't know what the future holds for us," she said.

Begum fled Myanmar in 2013 with memories of religious persecution. Her father, an imam and respected religious leader in their village, taught Islamic studies every day from 8 am to 4 pm. "I love my father because of what he did," she said. "He is the one who raised me, who taught me everything, including the Islamic teachings."

Her father introduced her to the Quran, taught her to read and understand its verses, and explained what their faith permitted and forbade. During a raid on their village, soldiers tried to arrest him. He fell and broke his leg while escaping. He later fled to Bangladesh but could not receive medical treatment. His injury became infected and he died.

"I miss every moment of my father," Begum said. She now passes his lessons on to her two daughters, teaching them to pray, recite verses from the Quran and make duas, or personal supplications to God. "I still feel the same connection to my faith that I felt back home," she said. "Even here, I remain connected to my religion."

For Rohingya refugees in Malaysia, escaping persecution has brought safety but not legal recognition or an end to hardship. Fear of detention, restrictions at some mosques and the loss of family and community continue to affect their lives, even as they seek to preserve their faith and traditions.