From a Refugee Camp to Stanford : My Journey

April 23rd 2009, It was a chilly morning and all of our relatives had surrounded my family’s hut to say their goodbyes. After a long and arduous process, we were finally on our way out of the refugee camp my parents had called home for the past 21 years having been forced out of Bhutan.

In an effort to rid itself of ethnic minority of Nepali speaking Bhutanese(predominantly Hindu), the Bhutanese government(predominantly Buddhist) had hatched up “One nation, One People” policy and used that policy to discriminate against the group. When they raised their voices and asked for their rights, the Bhutanese government stripped Nepali speaking Bhutanese off their citizenships and branded them illegal immigrants. Unable to live through the persecution and constant threats, 100,000 Nepali speaking Bhutanese were forced to flee their homes and seek refuge in Eastern Nepal in early 1990s.

In Nepal with the help of Nepali Government and the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, these 100,000 people were placed in 7 different refugee camp across the eastern parts. My parents met and got married on February 14th 1993 in the refugee camps. Me(1998) and my siblings (Lekh (1994) , Indira (2000) and Bikash(2004)) were all born in Sanischare Refugee Camp. Though there were multiple rounds of talks of repatriation between the Nepali and the Bhutanese government, they had stalled. After, 15 unsuccessful rounds of bilateral talks, it seemed that, our fates were sealed and we would remain in the refugee camp, longing to return home.

In the camp, We were always addressed as “Bhutangey(ones from Bhutan)” by the locals and always treated as beneath them even though we shared the same languages, religion and culture. As a little kid, that didn’t faze me and I roamed the streets as carefree as a kid could. I went to school every day, my dad worked countless hours, and my mother stayed home like many other women in the community. Life was normal even in the uncertainty of disasters like fires and my problem with chronic pneumonia and later on, jaundice. But then, our lives would change forever. There were rumors that we would be resettled in the United States, as the Nepalese government didn’t want us anymore and the tension between the locals and the refugees was brewing. In the end, the UN came up with a third-country resettlement option where countries like US, Canada, and Australia volunteered to help resettle us in their respective countries.

Initially, my parents who didn’t speak any English were worried about what they were going to do in this foreign country. However, my uncle convinced my dad that, living in Nepal, he was never going to be able to afford to send us to school past the 10th grade the refugee education program went to. After much deliberation, we decided that it was time that we filled the forms to show our interest in resettlement.

I remember this day as if it was yesterday, as all of us went to the central office in Damak to sign up for resettlement. After our screenings and medical forms were completed(a 2 year process), we were ready to leave the camp on our way to Kathmandu before being on our way to the United States of America.

So, on April 23 2009, I boarded the IOM(International Organization for Migration)’s bus with a smile on my face completely oblivious to the fact that, I was in for one hell of a ride.

The planes which I would run out to see when they flew over our huts, were now in front of me and as the process went on and we got closer and closer to coming to the US, they just kept getting bigger and bigger. I still vividly recall thinking we would hit he mountains on my first flight from Biratnagar to Kathmandu in a small turboprop just enough to hold the cohort of refugees that were also coming with us. The flights were so long and tiring(8 hours from Kathmandu to Hong Kong, 16 for Hong Kong to JFK, 1.5 from JFK to Chicago and then another 1.5 from Chicago), I remember seeing my mom cry holding my two young siblings regretting the decision to come this far leaving her mom and brothers behind(She would never get to see her oldest brother again as he passed away in 2011 before they could resettle in the US). Despite all of this we would make it to our final destination where my dad’s uncle’s family were eagerly waiting for us, having resettled 6 months before us.

On April 27 2009, we landed in Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport and our lives began anew. We were taken to our small two-bedroom apartment where we spent most of our time inside for few days, as the thought of getting lost casted a shadow on us. Then pneumonia hit and I had to be transported to the ER on the 2nd day in the country. Since bird flu was a big deal at that moment, I recall thinking that I was going to die. I didn’t want to die.

In the first three days, I had realized the importance of community in this new land. If nobody had been there when we didn’t even have a phone to call 911, I don’t know if I would be writing this piece today or not.

Months passed and the financial crisis hit hard on my uneducated parents who were unable to find any source of income in an already weakened job force. Again through the help of some community members and World Relief Minnesota, we were able to find a way out of the issue. I had learned by this point that the “American Dream” had gone to shits and this was all going to be a nightmare. To add insult to my already injured mind, my mom’s medical conditions deteriorated and continued to do so for 5 more years. I spent nights in the ER went to school the next day and sometimes continued the cycle for weeks. Throughout all this, one thing was a constant and that was the fact that no matter how hard it got I always had people in the community that told me to keep at it and soon it will get better. People who visited us when things were bad and even if they were struggling always had some amazing insights to offer. These insights were reassuring and gave me the tenacity to fight through the challenges.

People often time tell me “Thakur ta kati talented chhas” (Thakur you are so talented). I find this to be a misnomer as I don’t consider myself to be particularly talented. However, what I have found myself succeeding is through diligence and hard work. Though I wanted to raise goats just like my father growing up, education has always been important to me so I made sure that no matter how dire the situation at home I did what I needed to do. Sometimes this meant that I would have to do my homework while waiting for my mom’s doctors to come and check on her or while helping my dad figure things out. There were times where I felt lost in my educational journey because my peers had parents who could help them but I on the other hand, wished my parent had gone to school.

But, I wasn’t going to let this stop me. Despite being uneducated, my parents had taught me everything I needed to know about life and hard work and I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to change my family’s course of history get away from me. In this time, I chased every opportunity I got and worked to build myself. I learned to fly a plane, travelled to Florida on financial aid to learn to fly, learned to operate a professional camera for a local TV Station, worked cleaning toilets in a local pool, and one day when I was interpreting for my parents, was offered a job at an insurance agency and worked there all my high school years.

This taught me one of the most important lessons so far in my young life and that was “Don’t hesitate to ask for help”. So I followed just that as I camped outside my high school counselors’ offices, stayed after school getting help and challenging myself to the fullest extent in a high school that didn’t offer much as most of my peers like me were from low-income background and the school at that time, felt like was abandoned by the school district. In continuing this relentless pursuit, I found myself enrolled full time in high school and taking 20 units at a community college while also working. Though this meant 3–4 hours of sleep a day for almost two years, I continued to fight through the challenges. At the end of this rampant 2 years, I decided to apply to Stanford University as a school that I would never get into but should shoot my shot anyway.

And when the results came out, I was shocked. I refreshed multiple times to check that it was not a mistake, I asked myself, wtf were they thinking?I had been accepted to Stanford University. I saw my mom in the kitchen and trying to hold my emotions,I told her mom, “I got in to one of the best schools in the world” but I could no longer hold my emotions in. I just bursted out crying like a kid who had just been given a shot and was an absolute mess. I touched my mom’s feet and thanked her for everything that she had done and all the sacrifices that they had made for me and my siblings.