Samira surfs

Review by Booklist Review

In 2012, 11-year-old Samira and her family live in a leaky shelter outside of a Bangladeshi refugee camp. As undocumented Rohingya Muslims, they have fled their native Myanmar hoping for a better life; unfortunately, their new existence is just as difficult. Baba works as a shrimper, older brother Khaled washes dishes in a hotel, and Samira sells hard-boiled eggs along the beach. Samira's forbidden pleasures include reading, swimming, and surfing, skills honed with the help of Khaled. After Baba is injured and unable to work, family finances stretch dangerously thin, prompting Samira to enter a surfing competition with a rich prize. Guidroz's novel in verse is based on the continuing plight of Rohingya Muslims. Some readers may be frustrated that Samira's faith and culture discourage her from so many activities, but they will appreciate how Khaled discreetly encourages her. No real solutions are put forward, but Samira's pluck and courage offer hope. Illustrated with black-and-white sketches, this novel shines a light on a subject rarely addressed in middle-grade fiction, naturally inviting reader discussion.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In 2012, Samira, 11, grows up in Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh, a town ravaged by climate change, with her parents and brother, Khaled, all of whom are unregistered Rohingya refugees after fleeing Burma by boat. Struggling to make ends meet, Samira's father fishes for shrimp, her brother buses tables at Seaview Hotel, and Samira sells eggs to tourists on the beach, hoping to earn enough to purchase salt for her family. Scarred by the loss of her grandparents during the boat trip from Burma, Samira steers clear of water. She yearns to attend school, but both a lack of funds and her father's sexism prevent that. When Khaled learns to surf, Samira is initially ambivalent, still wishing she could learn English and Chittagonian like him instead. Until, that is, her friends and fellow beach merchants also begin to surf, discovering a secret pleasure in a community where even swimming is considered taboo for girls and women. With immersive b&w illustrations by Azim, the novel-in-verse stays riveting throughout, as Guldroz (Mina vs. the Monsoon) deftly employs sensory diction and spare poetic touches ("Did you know eyes can be spiky?") to center Samira's richly told story. Back matter includes an author's note and further reading. Ages 8--12. Agent: Wendi Gu, Sanford J. Greenburger Associates. (June)

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4--8--It's been three months since 11-year-old Samira and her family fled persecution in their homeland of Burma; three months since they paid a man to board a boat to cross the Naf River, seeking safety and a better life in Bangladesh; and three months since that same river swallowed her grandparents alive and dragged them to the bottom of the sea. In Bangladesh, Samira and her family do their best to make a life as unregistered refugees living outside of the refugee camps: Samira sells hard-boiled eggs along the beach to tourists; her brother cleans dishes and tables at a local café, and her father performs grueling work on shrimping boats. As refugees, they face resentment, suspicion, and threats of violence by some members of the local Bengali population, who view them as competition for scarce resources. Meanwhile, Samira struggles to pursue her own dreams, which conflict with her parents' cultural expectations. New friendships along the beach offer community and the opportunity to surf, an activity that gives Samira freedom and the chance to face and overcome her fears. Written in verse, this well-paced novel weaves Burmese history and the plight of the Rohingya, a persecuted predominately Muslim ethnic minority. Characters are multidimensional and are portrayed with nuance and empathy. Illustrations offer additional texture and help bring the plot to life. Although this is a work of fiction, it will hopefully inspire readers to learn more about the "surfer girls of Bangladesh," the Rohingya people, and Southeast Asian history. VERDICT A compelling novel that spotlights the history and contemporary circumstances of the Rohingya while tackling universal themes of friendship, belonging, and identity. Pair with other works about trailblazing young women, such as Julie Abery's Yusra Swims or a biography of Malala Yousafzai.--Mahasin A. Aleem, Oakland P.L., CA

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Review by Horn Book Review

"Water can trick us," believes eleven-year-old Samira, recounting how the river had swallowed her grandparents as her family fled persecution in Burma. As unregistered Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh, mired in poverty, resented by locals, and under constant fear of deportation, Samira's family lives in the shadows. Selling snacks on the beach to support her loved ones, Samira feels the acute loss of home, family, and community. As she befriends other girls like her, and they learn to surf in secret, her relationship to water changes from trepidation to exhilaration. When she decides to take part in a surfing competition, Samira must navigate stringent gender norms; happily, the girls band together to uplift one another. Interspersed with black-and-white sketches, the spare verse contrasts Samira's carefree past and her present-day reality. Exploring fear and freedom in equal measure, the author presents a complex picture by relating the historical oppression and political exclusion of the Rohingya with Samira's trauma and the challenges of resettlement. Samira's ability to be both "grateful and angry" gives her a multifaceted personality that draws readers' empathy. Samira's story (one of few that highlight the plight of the Rohingya refugee community; see also the 2019 picture book The Unexpected Friend) is a testament to how inner courage and the spirit of sisterhood can help brave any storm. Sadaf Siddique September/October 2021 p.95(c) Copyright 2021. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

After fleeing Burma by boat, 11-year-old Samira and her Rohingya family are settling into their new life in Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh, in 2012. Samira is glad she can help support her family by selling hard-boiled eggs on the nearby beach but longs to attend school. But even if they didn't desperately need the money Samira contributes, her father believes that, given their future opportunities, education only benefits boys. Because the refugee camps for Rohingyas escaping brutal persecution are full, Samira and her family are unregistered people. Despite hoping for better treatment in a predominantly Muslim country, they must live outside the camp, are banned from formal employment, and find that some locals resent their presence. Samira misses her family back home and her best friend, whose whereabouts are unknown. She makes friends with a group of Rohingya and Bangladeshi surfers, and the announcement of a surfing contest with a cash prize motivates her to overcome her fear of the water and learn too; winning could prove to her family that girls, like boys, can change their families' fortunes. Azim's charming illustrations bring Samira's world to life, showing the beauty of the natural surroundings and her childlike enthusiasm. This novel is peopled with layered, fully formed characters who experience trauma and triumph in equal measure. Samira's internal growth and changing relationships are well plotted, and her narratorial voice is earnest and bold. A compassionate and well-rounded picture of refugee life. (author's note, further reading) (Verse novel. 9-14) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh January 2012 Inside Our House Our house, made of bamboo chopped by Baba's bare hands, sits on a hill with other houses just like ours. The roof is crinkly blue plastic, noisy in the wind, hot in the afternoon sun. Rain drips through its holes, making dirt puddles on the ground. Inside, we have a single room for the four of us. Mama and Baba's sleeping mat covers one corner. Close by, Mama's silver pot and Baba's old spit cup, stained red from his betel leaf. Khaled stores a cricket bat in his corner. Next to it, on the floor, is my brother's blue notebook. He tucked it in the waistband of his longyi and brought it all the way from Burma. What's mine is a stool that holds my special blanket, Nani's gift to baby me. It's torn and frayed, but when I brush it against my skin on cool winter nights, me and Nani are together again, cheek to cheek. My stomach twists when I think about what little made it here with us. But things don't make a home. Family does, even those still in Burma. Nani and Nana do, even though they are gone. Eggs Our eggs go plop-plop into water, bubble and mist as they simmer in Mama's silver pot. When they're ready, she spoons them out and sets them in my bucket. Our livelihood lies between these brittle white shells. My job is to sell as many hard-boiled eggs as I can to beachgoers in Cox's Bazar. Each oval brings money to my palm and food to the bellies in my family. Salt Last night, Baba said, "If you sell all your eggs, Samira, we can buy extra salt to keep." He was squatting on the floor, wrapping coconut, fennel, and nuts in betel leaf. It's his favorite treat. A spiral of joy rose in my belly. Salt crystals transform Mama's dahl. Beneath my crossed legs, the prickly straw mat suddenly felt smooth. A bucket of eggs turns into bundles of taka turns into pinches of salt turns into mouthfuls of joy. I send out a wish to sell all my eggs. Come extra hungry to the beach, tourists! Scoot Low Every morning, a narrow milky stream of drip-drop pouring cha tumbles from high to greet me. This is how Mama pours it. Moments with her at dawn bathe our day in sweetness. Baba is the first to leave. Shrimping is early work. Next, Khaled, to clean dishes and tables for the café at Seaview Hotel. Mama kisses me on the cheek. "Stay safe, Samira," she says. I'm the last to go. Low, low I scoot, zigzagging down our sneaky steep hill. My walk is filled with sky, wrapped in pearly indigo air, crisp and still, and birds chirping every morning. Knowing I step past the woods to meet a wide stretch of golden-gray sand. The beach goes beyond where I can see. Khaled says it's the longest in the world! Café doors creak open. Outside, whining packs of stray dogs beg for food, waiting for scraps that miss the rubbish. Fishermen throw out nets for their daily catch. The sea, sparkly in the morning sun, breaks in little waves near the shore. My eyes follow their slow, gentle peeling. My ears tune in the gentle roar of water tumbling on sand. It sounds like water lapping at a boat, like the one we boarded to cross the river when we left Burma, just me, Khaled, Mama, and Baba, and Nani and Nana. The others stayed behind: Hasina Auntie, Jamal Uncle, my cousin Shoba, and my best friend, Sahara. It's been three months since the river tossed our boat, our chests sinking, stomachs plummeting. Water can be dangerous and beautiful at the same time. For now, I stay as far away as I can. Excerpted from Samira Surfs by Rukhsanna Guidroz All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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