For millions of Bangladeshi migrant workers across the Gulf and wider Middle East, Eid-ul-Azha arrives with a symphony of mixed emotions.
It’s the time of the year when the distance between a dormitory in Kuwait or Lebanon and a family home in Bangladesh feels most profound.
Whether we eat well or earn more, it means little without those who we cherish the most in life. So, when Eid comes around, we miss our families back home dearly.
Jiyabur Rahman Expatriate in Lebanon
“Whether we eat well or earn more, it means little without those who we cherish the most in life. So, when Eid comes around, we miss our families back home dearly,” said Jiyabur Rahman, who lives in a satellite town on the outskirts of Lebanese capital Beirut.
An estimated 15 million Bangladeshis work abroad, most in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar, Oman, Kuwait, and Bahrain. They send home nearly $30 billion annually -- a lifeline for the national economy. Yet their personal struggles and sacrifices often remain unseen.
The US-Israel war on Iran, Tehran’s retaliatory strikes on Gulf states, and Israel’s bombardment of southern Lebanon since March have left hundreds of thousands of Bangladeshi migrants in fear.
Many report job losses, wage cuts, and soaring prices of essential commodities that erode their savings.
In the quiet corners of worker dormitories in these countries, Eid festivities are often unrecognisable.
For Dulal Sarker, a 45-year-old migrant in Kuwait, Eid morning yesterday began with prayer, followed by a simple breakfast, and ended almost immediately with going to bed.
“What else can we do?” he told this correspondent via WhatsApp. “It’s a holiday and we have nothing to do.”
The vibrancy of the local marketplaces, where compatriots usually gather to share news from home, was out of question for migrants like Dulal this year.
With the month drawing to a close and many yet to receive their salaries, the lack of money in their pockets kept them confined to their rooms.
For these workers, the sacrifice of Eid is literal: they send gifts and money home to ensure their families are happy, while buying nothing for themselves.
“There is no Eid away from home,” Dulal said.
Before the conflict, freelance migrants could secure 20 days of work a month. Now, that has dwindled to 10–12 days.
In Sharjah, UAE, a Bangladeshi entrepreneur who opened a car garage in February said business collapsed after the war broke out.
“I used to do a job, which was not bad. But I wanted to do better and started the business. But there are rarely any clients now as many people have fled,” he said, preferring anonymity.
“This is all because of the war and I’m not sure when the situation will get better,” he added.
Jiyabur Rahman, who is mentioned earlier in the report, describes a bittersweet celebration in Beirut.
On Eid-day yesterday, he joined 300 compatriots for prayer and a communal meal. “It was even better than what we have at home,” he said. Yet the atmosphere was heavy with tension.
He dreams of returning to his village in Narail but is bound by financial obligations. “I’m paying for a two-storey building for my family and cannot afford a trip home now.”
Israeli airstrikes in May displaced thousands of Bangladeshi workers in southern Lebanon. Some were also killed. Though the strikes have paused, fear of their resumption looms.
For those displaced, survival has come to depend on food support from charities and the embassy.
Mohammad Zakaria, founder of Jagrata Humanity Foundation, said they are supporting the displaced migrants by connecting them to employers.
“The fear of war, however, is difficult to shake off,” he said.
