Life in limbo: Meet the Myanmar refugees living in Thai camps

“Sometimes people who are struggling ask me for food. I feel so anxious about what is going to happen tomorrow,” the 40-year-old said.

US President Donald Trump’s move in January to cut nearly US$9 billion (S$11.6 billion) in foreign humanitarian aid has resulted in critical shortfalls in food and healthcare services across the globe.

Those affected include The Border Consortium (TBC), which has provided monthly food assistance since the 1980s. While it initially stopped issuing food credits for most refugees along the Thailand-Myanmar border on July 31, it announced a month later that it would temporarily resume support in October.

However, current funds allow TBC to run food aid only until the end of 2025.

Only the 7,000 “most vulnerable” refugees – those without income or other financial support – across nine camps will continue receiving 400 baht (S$16) in credits, along with basic rations such as rice, cooking oil and yellow beans.

The remaining 101,000 refugees, categorised as self-reliant, standard or vulnerable, are left to fend for themselves. With no credits, they will be able to pay for food only in cash in 2026.

As hostel prefect, Saw Ru Ghay buys food for 58 students in his Mae La dormitory. Most are among the camp’s most vulnerable and still receive about 400 baht in monthly food credits.

The 20-year-old pools these credits to buy 15 sacks of rice, with each 50kg sack feeding the students for two days.

With aid guaranteed only through December, the college student saves what he can, but his balance is running low. He said camp leaders have not indicated how long food aid will continue in 2026.

“It is not enough for us, but it is enough to buy rice. For the curry, we just try to afford it by ourselves,” he told The Straits Times.

In March, TBC said it would reduce food aid for all but the most vulnerable, affecting more than 80 per cent of refugees in the nine camps.

Among those affected is Naw Blai Paw, 62, who has eight mouths to feed in her family. She earns a small income working at a clothing shop in the camp, but says it is hardly enough.

Business has slowed since the cuts. She now sees one customer every few days, compared with three a day previously.

“We still have some rice at home, but by the end of the month we will not have food,” she said. When asked what her family would do then, she merely shrugged.

TBC declined to comment, citing ongoing discussions with the Thai government and donors.

Educators fear the camps’ children will be most affected by the halt in food support.

“When the children go to school hungry, how can they learn? The issues are intertwined,” said Dr Andrew Wai Phyo Kyaw, a researcher at Nelson Mandela Centre.

With food support halted, parents are more likely to send children outside the camps to work illegally rather than to school, according to Saw Harold Lum, Mae La’s education coordinator.

“I feel bad for the kids’ future,” he said.

Thailand’s refugee camps for Myanmar nationals, especially the Karen, were established from the late 1980s to shelter those fleeing decades of armed conflict and persecution.

However, with no legal status, most refugees remain confined to these border settlements, now dotted with bamboo huts as well as schools, clinics and small shops.

The Karen Refugee Committee (KRC) chairman, Saw Robert Htwe, whose organisation represents refugees, said his five decades of experience did not prepare him for the scale of the US Agency for International Development cuts.

“What can I do? I worry about education, I worry about healthcare, and I worry about camp management,” he said.

Since June, his organisation has supplied each of its 1,400 camp staff – including educators, healthcare workers and camp committee members – with 5kg of rice a month.

But it is still not enough, Saw Robert Htwe said, and the support will end in December.

“Many of the teachers told me, ‘If we can’t get the support for food, we cannot continue teaching.’”

In Umpiem Mai, where 11,000 refugees live, the camp’s hospital has become a ghost town since the International Rescue Committee (IRC) shut down its operations in the camps on July 31.

The humanitarian aid group, which relies heavily on US funding, has provided healthcare services to refugees in Thai camps since the first arrivals in 1984. But recent aid cuts forced it to halt operations, slash staff and suspend crucial programmes, leaving camp clinics to run with only local refugee workers.

Only those with critical illnesses or requiring emergency care can continue staying in the inpatient department.

“We have to run our hospital for our community, but we have no fresh supplies,” hospital director Zaw Tigh said.

With IRC’s exit, nurses without pharmacy training, such as 29-year-old Susannah, who goes by one name, have been reassigned to ration the remaining medical supplies.

“Patients come to ask for their medication every day, but we don’t have it,” she said.

IRC did not respond to queries.

In a rare bright spot, refugees have been able to work legally outside the camps since October.

In late August, the Thai government lifted a decade-long ban on working rights for long-term refugees from Myanmar.

Saw Bweh Say, KRC general secretary, said the group has pushed for legal employment for refugees over the past five decades.

“Our needs are only growing, so we were very happy when Thailand gave us permission to work outside in their country,” he said.

This decision could fill a migrant labour shortage in Thailand after armed border conflict with Cambodia in July triggered an exodus of Cambodian workers.

Since the announcement, Thai sugarcane factory owners facing manpower issues have been visiting the camps to recruit about 30,000 workers, Saw Bweh Say said.

Across the nine camps, there are 42,000 refugees of working age, and so far 12,000 have applied to work outside, he added.

Nonetheless, refugees continue to face many challenges. Some fear being far from family, language barriers and trafficking risks from unreliable brokers, Saw Bweh Say said.

Mr Chawaratt Chawarangkul, Asia-Pacific manager of the non-profit International Detention Coalition and adviser to the Thai Parliament, wrote in a LinkedIn post: “Granting the right to work is truly about respecting the human dignity of refugees... The right to work empowers refugees with genuine self-agency – the ability to shape their own lives.”

Noting that critics say Thailand’s move was a temporary response to labour shortages or cuts in humanitarian aid, he argued that the policy decision was likely weighed against alternatives such as forced repatriation and limited short-term assistance.

He stressed the need for support policies that allow refugees to pursue jobs matching their skills, rather than just low-skilled labour, help them adjust to life outside the camps, and address transport and banking needs so they can send money to their families.

“Many refugees have far more skills. In the camps, there are doctors, nurses, teachers, interpreters, and even athletes… Their capacity goes well beyond low-skilled labour.”

Saw Poe Ni, a high school teacher from Mae La camp, however, will not venture outside the camp for work, having grown accustomed to life there.

“This is news we’ve been waiting for more than 10 years, so I’m happy for all of us,” the 31-year-old said. “But for me, it is enough to serve my Karen community.”

Taryn Ng and Janelle Ling are final-year communication studies students at Nanyang Technological University’s Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information. This report is part of the school’s Going Overseas For Advanced Reporting, or Go-Far, module.