The Sound of a Sewing Machine at Noon

By Tasmiah Afroze Trisha and Sams Arefin

The day we came to photograph Roshida for this case study, she had a fever, yet she came to the centre anyway, sat down at the machine, and worked while we talked and pointed the camera at her. She was telling us her story little by little as we captured her photos and documented her words, while she remained quietly focused on her machine and fabric, without speaking about her own wellbeing.

That detail, more than anything she said, tells you who she is.

Roshida is forty-four and lives in Camp 15 with five children. She lost her husband in 2015 in Myanmar, when she was pregnant with the fifth. He was there, and then he was not. The relatives who might have helped stepped back instead. She pressed seeds into the soil behind the house and grew vegetables. That is how she fed her children for two years.

Then came August 2017, when the Myanmar military swept through Rakhine State. She remembers the smoke more than the flames. People were shouting. She gathered the children, one in her arms, the others holding on to her clothes, and walked to the Naf River, the border between Myanmar and Bangladesh. The water was cold. They crossed. On the other side was Bangladesh.

That was all there was.

In Camp 15 she worked whatever work was available. Washing clothes for other families. Carrying water. She accepted aid when it came but it sat uneasily with her. She wanted to earn.

In April 2025, a community volunteer came to her shelter and mentioned a tailoring course at the Bonolota IGA Centre. Three months. Roshida said yes, left the older children to watch the younger ones, and walked there every day. She learned to measure, cut, and sew. Bedai, thami, baju, khejba, burqa, children’s clothes. Some days the cloth cooperated. Some days it did not.

When the training ended, she started taking orders in the afternoon hours when the machines were free. A blouse. A frock. A repair. The money was small at first. Rice money. Oil money. A notebook for her son. But it was hers.

She saved for four months. Six thousand taka (around fifty US dollars). She counted it more than once, not because she doubted the amount. She bought a sewing machine. When she brought it home, her children gathered around it like it was something alive.

Now the machine runs in the shelter after lunch every day. She earns six to seven thousand taka a month, roughly fifty to sixty dollars. Rice, lentils, vegetables, sometimes meat. School uniforms. Medicine. Things that used to require waiting now come through her own hands.

She still misses her husband. The memories of 2017 return when they want. But she keeps going. There are five children and the machine is paid for and the next order is waiting.

Women in the camp come to ask how she sews so neatly. Young girls stand at a distance and watch. When we asked if she had anything to say to women just starting the training, she said:

“work with what you have. Learn one thing well”.

She said it without drama. The same way she sat at the machine that afternoon with a fever she had not mentioned to anyone