Celebrated Ambassadors

The People behind Plan’s Mission

Raised in crisis. Raised to lead.

Tanjina Mirza, Plan Canada’s Chief Programs Officer, draws on her childhood experiences as a refugee to champion education and resilience for children worldwide.

Words by: Norma Hilton
Reading time: 8 minutes

 

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Tanjina Mirza, Plan Canada’s Chief Programs Officer, draws on her childhood experiences as a refugee to champion education and resilience for children worldwide.

When Tanjina Mirza was nine, her family had no money and food was scarce. “Kill the Bengalis” was painted on the outside of her house in a deep, angry red.

It was 1971. She and her family were living in Islamabad, Pakistan, where they were seen as traitors.

That year, Pakistan was at war with itself. The country, then divided into East and West Pakistan, erupted into violence after East Pakistan voted overwhelmingly for independence. The West responded with a brutal military crackdown. By the end of the conflict – described internationally as a genocide – East Pakistan had become the newly independent nation of Bangladesh.

In West Pakistan, Bengalis were viewed with suspicion – they were seen as disloyal, even dangerous. Tanjina’s family, Bengali by ethnicity and language, suddenly found themselves on the wrong side of the war. Her father, a government official, was placed under house arrest and, like many, forced to resign. The family’s passports were confiscated. They had no rights in Pakistan and no way to move to Bangladesh. An estimated 500,000 people found themselves stranded and stateless. That’s how Tanjina, chief programs officer at Plan International Canada, spent more than two years of her life, between 1971 and 1973.

School in a crisis

“The situation at home was very sad,” recalls Tanjina, “My parents were very sad and worried.” Her family sold everything to survive, including chairs, tables and her mother’s prized harmonium, a stringed instrument resembling a small wooden piano.

At home, the tension never ebbed. Fear. Paranoia. Uncertainty. Adults whispered about the war and what to do when, not if, they became prisoners of war. And there was another problem: Children were out of school. With families in survival mode and no access to formal education, many were left in vulnerable situations.

But amid the fear and scarcity, something extraordinary happened. Parents in the community turned their homes into makeshift classrooms. They found blackboards, salvaged old books and taught children for four to five hours a day. These classes gave children like Tanjina more than an education – they offered structure, connection and moments of joy. “If we hadn’t had those community classes, we never would have been able to catch up or we would have dropped out completely,” she says.

From survival to purpose

In 1973, Tanjina’s father made a life-altering decision. Rumours were spreading that Bengali families were being rounded up and sent to prisoner-of-war camps. He didn’t wait to find out if it was true; he packed up the family and fled. They walked from Islamabad to Afghanistan and then to India. Finally, they reached their new home in Bangladesh. The journey took three months.

Adjusting to life in Bangladesh wasn’t easy. Tanjina grew up speaking Urdu in West Pakistan and now found herself in a country where Bangla was the national culture and Bengali culture shaped daily life. Despite being ethnically Bengali, she felt like an outsider – disconnected from the language, the customs and even the school system. She initially failed her school entrance exams. But Tanjina pressed on, determined to reclaim her education and identity in a country that was now meant to be home.

From refugee to working with refugees

In the 1990s, Tanjina fulfilled her childhood dream of attending medical school. After completing her studies, she began working as a doctor at a refugee camp in Dhaka and treated children who kept getting sick again and again. Many of them died.

“You feel so helpless that these kids are dying,” she says and pauses. “I actually feel very teary-eyed because I couldn’t save some of those kids – that has stuck with me.”

Tanjina’s two years at the camp were a turning point in her life. “I realized that treating illness wasn’t enough,” she explains. “Children were dying from not only disease but also poverty. I wanted to work on the systems that had failed them.”

Since then, she has spent 25 years in the international development and humanitarian sector; she has worked in more than 30 countries, including, in 2000, hospitals in North Korea, where she assessed maternal care for pregnant women and new mothers.

During her early days at Plan, she worked at a newly opened clinic in Bangladesh. In those communities, there were no proper roads to take women to the main town to give birth. And in the monsoon season, they were flooded. Most women died in labour.

“While I was there, a woman gave birth to a healthy child,” says Tanjina. “The dad and grandmother were crying and holding my hand, thanking Plan.”

Tanjina also works on Plan’s education-in-emergencies programs, making sure that children in refugee situations don’t miss out on learning – even when times are tough. “It’s a sanctuary for children who have witnessed violence, uncertainty and constant movement, often to new places where they don’t know the people or understand the language,” she says.

Her trip to Jordan in 2019 to visit Syrian children was one program that really moved her.

“It’s heartbreaking,” she says softly. “The whole area feels like a prison. These children have never known what it’s like to live in a free, open space. Some of them asked me what was beyond the walls and why they weren’t allowed to go. I had no answers to give.”

A legacy that runs deep

A school with students walking around it.
The school that Tanjina’s grandmother, Meherunnesa Khatun, started still stands today in northeastern Bangladesh.

Tanjina’s belief in the power of education didn’t begin in the refugee camp. It’s been part of her story all along – passed down by a woman who also refused to give up on girls.

In the early 1980s, after school exams, Tanjina would stay with her grandmother, Meherunnesa Khatun, in Sylhet, Bangladesh. After being denied government support to start a girls’ school, Khatun didn’t give up. She wrote to family members across Bangladesh and abroad, asking for donations to start one herself.

In a region where most girls didn’t continue past primary school – where household responsibilities, child marriage and early pregnancies were the norm – Khatun’s determination was radical. She started with one room. Then two. Teachers from the community volunteered for years, teaching without pay.

“One person can change the world – and she did it,” says Tanjina proudly.

Today, that school – Sultanpur Akhtaruddin Meherunnesa Sorkari Prathomic Biddaloy – still stands, offering girls a chance to learn, to lead and to imagine different futures for themselves.

And because it changed her life, Tanjina remains committed to ensuring that children have access to an education that helps them imagine – and build – something better.

“I think that’s the beauty of children – they’re so resilient,” she says. “If you give them the right education and provide a protective environment, they can achieve a lot. I mean, if I could do it, why not a million other kids? I was no different from anybody else.”

Leading with lived experience

Tanjina’s leadership is rooted in empathy – but it’s also strategic. For 24 years, she helped develop Plan’s programs, first as a health advisor and then as chief programs officer beginning in 2016. Her impact on Plan’s approach to providing education in emergencies stems from her deep personal understanding of the complex barriers children face in crisis settings. She didn’t just help design programs – she reshaped them to meet children where they are.

Her approach recognizes that poverty is much more than an economic condition; it creates multiple barriers and is a daily obstacle to learning. She champions initiatives like school meal programs, knowing that a hungry child can’t concentrate, let alone thrive. She also prioritizes emotional and physical safety, advocating for the creation of safe spaces where children can learn without fear – spaces that offer stability during chaos.

And she understands that time lost to conflict or displacement can’t be recovered through conventional schooling. That’s why she advocates for accelerated learning programs that enable children to catch up and re-enter formal education systems with confidence.

By embedding empathy into our approach, Tanjina ensures that our programs aren’t just reactive – they’re restorative. Today, Plan is recognized as a leader in delivering education in these settings, especially for girls, who are often the first to be left behind. Last year, 33,918 girls who’d been missing out on school were enrolled in education projects around the globe.

Under Tanjina’s leadership, Plan has expanded its education efforts in crisis zones like Gaza, Haiti, Bangladesh, Syria and Ethiopia – providing displaced children with safe places to learn, supportive teachers and access to schooling even in the most unstable conditions.

For Tanjina, education is essential but not enough on its own. “Children can’t learn if they’re hungry or unsafe,” she explains. “And girls need to be given the same chances as boys – to stay in school and be supported.”

Here are some highlights from education-in-emergencies programs we offer in Gaza, Bangladesh, Haiti, Syria and Ethiopia.

What education in emergencies looks like

Gaza

A child dressed in salmon-coloured top and pants sitting in a tent looking at a book in the dark.
“I am Elin. I am 11 years old and in the sixth grade. I wish I could return to our home, go back to school to learn and achieve the future we dream of.”

A poem written by Elin:

“I am the oppressed child,

calling out to all hearts,

calling out to the unjust world.

I call, and I will continue to call,

to cry out and say:

I want to return to my country.

I am the oppressed child,

I am the deprived child,

I am the child who keeps telling the world:

To those whose hearts have turned to stone,

whose consciences have died and shattered.

No words or phrases can describe the extent of the oppression

that I and the children of Gaza suffer.

They destroyed our dreams,

they shattered our sleep with bombs and gunpowder, poverty and siege.

I ask the world:

Does anyone choose their family, their country,

their life or their death?

Answer us!

Answer us, leaders of the world.

Answer us with words of justice,

but in secret, they have sold us out.”

Plan International has been providing first-aid kits and hygiene kits since the crisis in Gaza began in October 2023. More than 34,000 hot meals have also been distributed, and 1,000 families have received cash to buy what they need.

We have also helped 14,720 children and their families receive mental-health support so they can process their trauma in a safe, supportive environment with trained professionals. To date, 61,000 people have been killed, including about 18,430 children, due to the escalating conflict in Gaza between Israeli forces and Palestinian armed groups that began almost two years ago.

Haiti

A girl wearing a long blue and white vest stands in a makeshift shelter made of plywood and white sheets.
More than one million people, including 550,000 children like Caroline*, have been displaced in Haiti because of escalating violence.

Children in Haiti are coming face to face with severe physical and psychological trauma and live in fear of violence, abduction and trafficking. Children like Caroline*, 15, are sheltering in schools that have been turned into makeshift camps, but they are unable to go to classes. “Whenever I see other children going to school, my eyes tear up,” she says.

Some families can’t afford to send their children to school, so they study in their small makeshift homes, where a bedsheet hung from the ceiling separates them from other families.

“I was lucky enough to save six notebooks when we ran away,” says Isabelle*, 15. “I look over what I’ve already learned. I wish I could learn a lot and become a nurse.”

In Haiti, Plan has set up child-friendly spaces in displacement camps where children can learn and play and receive mental-health support and counselling from trained staff. So far, Plan has provided food to 5,000 students in 38 schools and cash to 1,000 families as well as counselling and support to 3,206 survivors of violence, including sexual violence.

*The girls’ names have been changed to protect their privacy.

Watch our mini-doc in which Caroline and Isabelle share what it’s like to grow up in these camps.

Bangladesh

A teacher wearing black pointing to writing on a white board while 3 girls look on.
Half a million school-aged children live in Cox’s Bazar’s Rohingya refugee camps in Bangladesh.

Plan runs education programs in which 10,000 Rohingya children, including girls, study the Myanmar curriculum. These lessons are taught in both English and the Rohingya language, so that if they return home, they can transition back into the education system.

Cameroon & Niger

Students raise their hands behind rows of desks in an informal classroom.
In Niger, 937 schools are closed, impacting 73,876 students. Temporary classrooms like this one in a refugee settlement help bridge children back into formal schooling.

As many as 20% of the world’s refugees live in the Lake Chad basin. It’s one of the most overlooked displacement crises of our time. Extreme violence, droughts and hunger have forced hundreds of thousands of families to put their children’s education on hold.

We’re on a mission to change that. Every child deserves the chance to learn, no matter what. With Global Affairs Canada, we’re backing 200 refugee-led organizations in Cameroon and Niger to support schooling for 40,000 young people.

Learn how we’re upholding children’s dreams through the Refugee Education and Development (READ) project

Ethiopia

Children are taught math by a teacher pointing at a blackboard under a tree.
Some people have been waiting for over 10 months to be resettled in refugee camps in Ethiopia.

More than 71,000 people have fled from Sudan to Ethiopia since bombs and gunfire erupted in their towns and villages starting in 2023. And during that time, children’s education has come to a full stop.

Plan International is one of the few organizations working there – screening for and treating malnutrition and restarting children’s education. In set-ups like the one pictured above, older children learn how to read and write and how to understand and work with numbers.

 
 

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