It was their last day of high school, and as is the custom, the four students were writing messages on each other’s shirts. The students, Nirajan, Rajan, Niraj and Bisan, posted the pictures of the messages on their uniforms on social media meme groups, but never imagined that they would go viral across the country and abroad.&nbsp; The messages in Nepali read ‘Have a safe journey to Japan’, ‘Safe travels to Korea’, ‘Hope you have a good overseas journey’ or &nbsp;‘See you in the Gulf’, reflecting the actual plans of the four friends to go abroad.&nbsp; Nirajan and Niraj want to migrate to Japan, while Rajan and Bisan want to work in South Korea under the Employment Permit System. The Persian Gulf is the last resort for them. The four left their homes in Kavre, Ramechhap, Sindhupalchok and Lalitpur to study at Bageswari High School in Bhaktapur.&nbsp; “We don’t have many course options in our village to study,” says Nirajan. “Here, at least the teachers show up regularly, and when a teacher is absent, there are substitutes. Our principal is also very hands-on.” Finishing up Grade 12 is an important milestone, and foreign employment is the natural choice for many young Nepalis. This is reflected in the scrawled messages on the students’ shirts. “Our families took care of us so far, and we also worked part-time to cover our expenses. But once you finish 10+2, it will not be the same. It is our turn to become providers for our families,” says Bisan who, like the others, feels that a bachelor's degree in Nepal is not a viable option.&nbsp; It will be expensive to work and study in Kathmandu, and they believe that although it will be a struggle for a few years overseas, they will be set for life. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-son-s-dream">A father's sacrifice for his son’s dream</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230330090340_b32b6ef460fada6618b6d6253d1639a6e88c7d0867cddc07bb3a6161c6f2649b.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230330090340_b32b6ef460fada6618b6d6253d1639a6e88c7d0867cddc07bb3a6161c6f2649b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1328" height="419" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big"> <figcaption>Nirajan, Rajan, Niraj and Bisan, and the viral images of their shirts with messages ‘Hope you have a good overseas journey’, ‘Safe travels to Korea’, ‘Have a safe journey to Japan’ and ‘See you in the Gulf’. </figcaption> </figure>  The boys have already got a glimpse of just how untenable combining work and studies can be in Nepal. Niraj works as a waiter and has struggled to balance college and work. Despite working 12 hours a day sometimes in a party palace, he makes only Rs500 daily.&nbsp; Not only are wages low, the work is also demanding and does not leave time for studies. He says, ”If I have to struggle, I might as well do it in Japan because at least it will lead to something. Living in Nepal can be great for the well-off, not for people from our background.” There were times in their lives when the students aspired to be lawyers, engineers, accountants or journalists. Nirajan always wanted to work in a bank growing up because he was good at accounting. But his grasp of the subject declined during Covid lockdowns when he could not adjust to online classes and this was reflected in his SEE scores. So he gave up his dream of working in a bank and joined humanities. The photos of the students writing messages on each other's shirts were widely shared on social media for the same reasons as pictures of migrant workers lining up at the airport do: it reflects the government’s inability to retain the youth in Nepal itself.&nbsp; But they also showed the lack of support systems for the students as they make critical decisions about their futures. But questions to the students about who they aspire to be, or what led them to decide on Japan or South Korea, are met with silence or generic answers.&nbsp; They are unable to articulate why those countries, other than mentioning a distant acquaintance or the friend of a sister who is doing well in Japan or Korea. They view these countries as more realistic dreams than the US and Australia, which are out of their reach due to cost and because people they know have not chosen that route.&nbsp; The possibility of exploring scholarship opportunities for university abroad or in Nepal, is not on their radar. But their educational background has given them the confidence to dream beyond the Gulf and attempt language tests for Japan and Korea.&nbsp; Three of the four have immediate family with Gulf migration experience. Rajan’s brother is in the UAE, Niraj’s father is a former Qatar migrant, and Bisan’s brother is a gym instructor in Saudi Arabia.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage">The Qatar job mirage</a> Niraj is the son of a Qatar migrant returnee who spent over a decade overseas to provide for his family. “Things were much easier for us financially when my father was in Qatar compared to now when he is back,” he explains. “Now my father wants to send me to a better-paying destination country like Korea or Japan.”&nbsp; To this Rajan adds, “Even if we do end up going to the Gulf, we will make sure we take proper skills training and go there as trained workers, most likely in hospitality which we already have work experience in.” The students are surprised how widely their social media posts of shirt-signing went. But they want it to turn into tangible action. They want the government to pay serious attention to the dreams and future of the 500,000 plus Nepali students taking Grade 12 exams every year, for whom the education certificate does not amount to much to get jobs with liveable wages.&nbsp; In less than a month, they will take their final board examinations after which they have important life decisions to make. There are uncertainties ahead, including who will be the first to leave amongst this tight-knit group of friends, or what the ultimate destination will be.&nbsp; What is certain is that sooner or later, they will all leave. Chances are, they will see each other in the Gulf indeed. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green">Turning the desert green</a>

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No country for young men

Kunda Dixit

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Making overseas migration better

Growing up in Gulmi district, I was obsessed with football. Our village was perched on top of a staircase of terraced fields, none of them large enough for a football field. We played improvised, barefoot games in vacant rice paddies every day after school, running after a deflated volleyball while modelling ourselves after our favourite international stars. Mine, of course, was the Brazilian legend, Ronaldo. In 2002, I had &nbsp;watched the 2002 World Cup on a tiny colour television at home. The event gripped the country, and brought almost everything to a standstill. Growing up, the pressures of life in an impoverished country began to set in. Many joined the workforce, or went to India. By a stroke of luck, my father, a high school teacher in the village, won a diversity visa lottery to the United States. My family left Nepal when I was 13. When I was in medical college in Texas, most of my childhood friends back home were looking for jobs as menial labourers abroad. Nepal’s economy had stagnated during and after the decade-long insurgency, endemic corruption and political failure. Jobs were hard to find. The Persian Gulf was hiring, but the work required long hours in the heat for a few hundred dollars a month to send home. Others took less well-paying jobs in India, working as domestic help or in agriculture. One of them was my uncle, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pitambar.bhattarai.73/photos_of" target="_blank">Pitamber Bhattarai</a>, whom I met after years in 2010 while on a study trip to Delhi. He was working in a restaurant, and travelled hours to find me. We met in a sweet shop because he wanted me to try the famous Delhi confectionery. We spent hours reminiscing about my late mother, his older sister, whom we both missed dearly. I was seven years old when we had lost her to an unknown illness. The hope of preventing such tragedy from befalling others is what later drove me to become a doctor. For those few hours with my मामा in the sweet shop my mother was alive again, and I felt profoundly moved. As we parted, my uncle told me about his plans to take a better-paying job in Qatar. He was the sole provider for his mother, wife and three young children back home. Two years later, I learned that my uncle had died while working in Qatar, and his body was being repatriated to Nepal for the final rites. I was shaken to the core. It felt like I had lost my mother all over again. His death made no sense to me. He was young and healthy, full of life. The death certificate provided by his employer in Qatar only listed ‘cardiac arrest’ as the cause. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2aa9c7e80680e0d3030jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2247" height="3399">The author's uncle Pitamber Bhattarai</div> I was just starting my medical studies, and I knew that cardiac arrest is not a cause of death but rather the end itself. Despite our family’s efforts to find answers, there were none. I started reading up on the conditions of migrant workers in<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/sep/25/revealed-qatars-world-cup-slaves" target="_blank"> The Guardian</a> and other papers. It led me to wonder if my uncle’s death was also due to working conditions. <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/11/14/qatar-rights-abuses-stain-fifa-world-cup" target="_blank">Human Rights Watch</a> and <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde22/5388/2022/en/" target="_blank">Amnesty International</a> released reports at that time detailing some of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-rights-legacy-of-the-fifa-world-cup/" target="_blank">atrocities migrant workers face,</a> including the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-welcomes-qatar-labour-reform/" target="_blank">kafala system</a> that permitted employers to seize workers’ passports, effectively making them bonded labourers. I also learnt that on average one coffin was returned to Nepal with the remains of somebody’s family member every single day from Qatar. It was not just Nepalis, workers from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and numerous African countries faced the same fate. As a physician, I travel to Nepal frequently to conduct global health work in emergency care. On a recent flight from Kathmandu to Qatar, I sat next to a 27-year-old man from a remote village in eastern Nepal. Nervous and excited, he told me how, through connections from relatives working in Qatar, he found an agent in Nepal who arranged a two-year contract to work for a company called Ipas. They had promised to pay him $275 a month with a $82 food stipend. To arrange the job, he had already paid an agent in Nepal $1,500 -- more than four months’ salary. His first job would be as a paint scraper, and he was promised 8-hour-day shifts with a day off every week. His story was not unique. The flight, one of four from Kathmandu to Doha every day, was full of men like him. Many Nepalis <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/payupfifa-campaign-launched/" target="_blank">died constructing infrastructure</a> for the FIFA World Cup, but accurate statistics are impossible to find. Some estimates put the number at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pay-qatars-world-cup-workers-2/" target="_blank">more than 6,500</a>. Every one of them leaves behind a bereaved, bereft and already destitute family, now with fewer options for survival than before. Meanwhile, FIFA is estimated to earn nearly $6 billion from this year’s World Cup. World Cup stadiums built in Brazil, Beijing and South Africa had raised similar concerns. The Qatar experience has affected my family personally, but the issue of FIFA turning its back on human rights violations is not new. The football governing body must be held accountable. When the world learnt in 2010 that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/" target="_blank">Qatar had won the FIFA </a>hosting bid, questions were raised about how a country with only three stadiums would host the globe’s biggest sporting event. But Qatar had a plan. That plan included the blood, sweat and the lives of migrant workers. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/fifa-a-chance-to-improve-welfare-of-nepali-workers-in-qatar/" target="_blank">Desperate workers</a> plucked from South Asia and Africa were flown in, their passports taken, and they were put to work. So what if a few died? There would always be other desperate people trying to provide for their families. In fact, young men have headed out to work in Qatar <a href="https://time.com/magazine/south-america/6234377/november-21st-2022-vol-200-no-19-europe-middle-east-africa-south-america/" target="_blank">even after their own families have received dead bodies </a>of their loved ones, or their uncles or fathers were sent back due to ill health caused by the heat and poor on-site conditions. Nepalis are quick to blame their own government also for this situation. The country’s economic instability has affected millions for decades. Successive governments in Nepal must be held accountable for allowing hundreds of thousands of workers to be exploited in these overseas worksites under false pretenses, and for not advocating more for the rights of its citizens abroad. But employers in Qatar and FIFA must also be held to account, especially for the indignities and injustices wrought upon these workers after they landed in Qatar, and began toiling on infrastructure for the World Cup. I am not watching the World Cup this year because cheering on games being played in buildings that so many of my people died constructing feels a bit like I have cheated them. And because memories of my uncle do not allow me to. My personal boycott will not mean much, but I hope my uncle’s story will provide perspective about the individual human tragedies involved. Was there really a need in this day and age for the World Cup to rely on egregiously unsafe bonded labour? By placing profit over justice and decency, FIFA has undermined the positive values that give football its global appeal. I love football. I want Messi to win. Football is a religion in Nepal. This year, however, the joy I once found in the beautiful game is haunted by the ghosts of workers. Ramu Kharel is an Assistant Professor at Brown University in the United States and an emergency medicine specialist. He is the founder of &nbsp;Health Advance Programs to Serve All, &nbsp;<a href="http://hapsaglobe.org/" target="_blank">HAPSA Nepal</a>.&nbsp; TikTok <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@namastedoctor" target="_blank">@namastedoctor</a>, Instagram @<a href="https://www.instagram.com/namastedoc/?hl=en" target="_blank">namastedoc</a>, Twitter <a href="http://www.twitter.com/erdockharel" target="_blank">@erdockharel</a>.&nbsp; This is a <a href="https://southasiapeace.com/category/sapan-news-network/?fbclid=IwAR2Yi7NjhRViUUtnjcoHR8VK0MzsxuoJoNXOYx9hV1aJYmY4IklNAAEq-8E" target="_blank">Sapan News</a> syndicated piece.

My uncle died in Qatar

Good housekeeping

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/6372334a9c7e80680e0c48d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1536" height="2048"/>The Covid pandemic had a major impact on Nepal’s economic mainstay, overseas employment. Those stuck abroad in 2020 were unable to return to Nepal, even when they lost their jobs. Migrant workers in Nepal could not resume or start overseas employment. Many chose to stay on and hold on to jobs, even when wages and work hours were not ideal.Laid-off workers did return home en masse, only to find that lofty promises of reintegration were just that: promises. Despite all this, remittances defied predictions.In 2021, jobs abroad started reopening, even though migrants faced <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-queueing-up-all-night-for-proof-of-jab/">complicated, costly and confusing requirements</a> related to vaccines and quarantines.A year on, foreign employment has not just recovered but surpassed pre-pandemic levels. More than 630,000 Nepalis left for overseas jobs in the last fiscal year — a huge jump in labour approvals from 166,698 in 2021, and 368,433 in 2020.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men/">No country for young men</a>, Shristi Karki<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/6372334d9c7e80680e0c48d6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="970" height="472">Nearly 78% of the permits so far this year were for just three countries: Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the UAE. And only 8% of them were obtained by female workers. The revival of overseas labour also brings relief to recruitment agencies whose business had been adversely impacted over the last two years.Under the Korea Employment Permit Scheme and Israel caregiver G2G workers underwent gruelling test and selection processes, but were unable to leave and were stranded for years. But by now, and estimated 6,000 of the 10,000 Nepalis have started EPS related employment in South Korea.Demand for jobs in Malaysia has also rebounded, and recruiters say it is difficult to find seats on flights out, and fares are expensive.A majority of Nepali workers continue to pay high fees for placements, but there are a few ethical recruitment initiatives that do not charge any fees. Recruiters attribute this to some multinationals in Malaysia have come under global scrutiny, and faced export bans due to evidence of forced labour conditions, including high recruitment fees.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/painting-a-bright-future/">Painting a bright future</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/6372334e9c7e80680e0c48d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="709" height="553">Nepal has also announced that it will allow recruitment of workers for short-term contracts in Qatar provided the employer bears all the costs of recruitment. The labour approval process in Nepal requires that workers have a contract of at least 2 years, but given the surge in demand for hospitality workers in Qatar for the World Cup the government has made an exception.Other countries like the UK <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2022/may/27/stop-abuse-of-migrant-workers-before-britain-becomes-the-next-dubai">have also been spotlighted</a> for high recruitment fees paid by Nepali workers in seasonal agriculture jobs. Despite that, employment in Britain is highly prized by Nepali workers who are applying in large numbers as that country faces a severe labour shortage.Despite the revival of foreign employment after the pandemic, there is poor implementation of Nepal’s policy on reintegration of returning workers due to government apathy. The newly issued reintegration guideline prioritises economic reintegration support in both wage- and self-employment while also prioritising a range of social reintegration support including psychosocial counselling for those who need it.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-days-of-international-migration/">The Days of International Migration</a>, Editorial<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637233519c7e80680e0c48d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1536" height="2048">With the World Cup in Qatar set to start in November, there are also some employers in the hospitality industry hiring workers at zero fees. High profile projects overseas with reputational and financial risks have created a demand for ethical sourcing.Despite delays, the directive is a much needed step in the right direction. But as we have stressed before in this space, the real test lies in its implementation.The most tragic cases of returning workers are those who die overseas, and are flown back to Kathmandu airport in coffins on the very flights that are taking more migrants abroad. There were 1,242 deaths of migrant workers overseas in the last fiscal year, with most of those families receiving financial compensation from the Foreign Employment Welfare Fund.The actual number of deaths is probably higher given that this is only a tally of the families that received financial compensation for which valid labour approvals are required. The highest fatalities of Nepali workers in the past year were in Saudi Arabia (362), Malaysia (280), Qatar (239) and the UAE (208).According to government records, the most common cause of death were chronic disease (427), suicide (140), traffic accidents (119), cardiac arrest (104) and ‘natural’ deaths (171). Many of these deaths go uncompensated by foreign employers, and many unexplained fatalities are seldom properly investigated.This remains a dark reality of Nepal’s overseas employment story, and many of these deaths were probably preventable. But as we have previously reported, Nepalis are dying abroad but also dying to work abroad. And therein lies our conundrum.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/">Rights referees blow whistle on World Cup fouls</a>, Kunda Dixit

Foreign employment revival

<img width="640" height="790" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/637230399c7e80680e0c2555jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>I left for Bahrain to work as a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/demand-grows-for-nepali-caregivers-in-israel/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caregiver</a> in 2007, and it was only five years later that I revisited my passion for art.  Ever since I was a young boy back home in Nepal, I used to love drawing. I did not go to a school that encouraged arts and craft, but I would often find myself doodling pictures of flowers, or doing calligraphy whenever I got a chance in my personal time.  It made me feel good to make these drawings, and as I grew up my passion for artwork increased. I was not able to give it the time I wanted because life and responsibilities took over. For the first five years after arriving in Bahrain, I was not able to devote much time to painting because I did not have time and my work was demanding. But once I started getting comfortable with my job and my employer, I could start taking out time for it.  Now in retrospect, it is as if the stars aligned to make sure the artist that was always in me was allowed to blossom, even though I had to leave Nepal for a job overseas.  <img width="572" height="517" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/6372303c9c7e80680e0c2556jpeg.jpg" alt="">As fate would have it, my employer happened to be an accomplished artist. What were the odds? It was providence. I admire his paintings a lot, and he is a genius who inspired me deeply. Having lived with him for over 15 years now, I have greatly benefited from his mentorship. Read the previous installments of Diaspora Diaries <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/tag/diaspora-diaries/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">here</a>.From the very outset, when my employer noticed I had a talent for drawing, he encouraged me and was generous with his time and guidance. He gives me constant feedback and buys me art supplies.  I stick to pencil drawings because my work does not lend itself to oil. I have to take care of my employer all the time, and oil painting can be messy. The colour mixes can dry up in the palette if I do not take care of it for too long, and I would not feel good wasting paint. So I stick to pencil art which I quite enjoy. After 300-400 portraits, I think I have got better at it.  <img width="640" height="562" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/6372303d9c7e80680e0c2557jpeg.jpg" alt="">The nature of my work also allowed me to spend endless hours drawing. My employer had a stroke that has paralysed him, so needs assistance throughout the day and night. But there are long hours when he is resting or sleeping when I have to be nearby looking out for him, but do not have any real work to do.  And that is the time I spend making portraits of loved ones, and of strangers I admire. Each portrait can take anywhere between 5 to 15 hours, and I lose myself in the work during that time. It is therapeutic, to just forget the world and disappear in my own creative space.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-high-life/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The high life</a> When I eventually return to Nepal, I want to take up art professionally as a full time engagement, and am grateful for the years in Bahrain where I was given the space to hone my skills, and have a mentor who encouraged me to keep at it.  Taking care of the same person for years, especially when the family treats me like their own, has meant I have become rather fond of my employer. He is now 81. We tell each other stories of our vastly different backgrounds. He talks fondly of his childhood. He used to be a football player when he was young and loves to show me the scars in his knee from the time he hurt himself while playing.  But he is not always cheerful, especially when he has to come to terms with his current reality. For someone as accomplished as him who has lived a successful life with a loving family, an artist who has made phenomenal oil paintings but can no longer paint, an engineer who is stuck in his wheelchair, he is often despondent.   When he is especially down, he talks about how this is the end for him, how things will only get worse from here on, and that he is just waiting to die.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-sons-dream/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">A father's sacrifice for his son's dream</a> <img width="640" height="518" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/637230409c7e80680e0c2558jpeg.jpg" alt="">Over the past 15 years, I have grown rather attached to my employer. When I refer to myself as his servant, he scolds me, and calls me his “son”. We have our disagreements, of course, and days when things do not go too well.    But that is the nature of all jobs, we all have our grievances and things could always be better. But I know that I have it fairly easy compared to many other Nepali workers, especially when they have to work in families that are not very nice to them.    Besides, my pay is fairly good and this has enabled me to build a house back in Nepal, and improve my family’s living standard.  But most importantly, I have grown as an artist.   On his 80th birthday, I drew a portrait of my employer (pictured below). It took me 15 hours to do it, and it was a surprise gift. I asked his wife to help me frame it. When I gifted it to him, he was gleaming with happiness and hugged me.    Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/sons-of-their-fathers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sons of their fathers</a>, Upasana Khadka   <img width="1080" height="1331" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/637230429c7e80680e0c2559jpeg.jpg" alt="">I am flying back to Bahrain after a two month leave in Nepal. I think this will be the last time I renew my contract. But I say that every time, and I extend my contract two more years. Whenever I have thought of returning home for good and he asks me to stay on, and I oblige.  There are of course practical reasons, including having this stable job with a good employer who is almost a father figure that makes me want to stay on. But there is also the attachment and the sense of responsibility I feel towards him after taking care of him for so many years.  I cannot just quit and leave when he is so fragile and dependent on me. How could I? Translated from a conversation in Nepali. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.

Painting a bright future

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222829c7e80680e0c02ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="990"/><figcaption>Nepali migrant workers bring home the body of a coworker who died on the job in destination country. Photo: GOPEN RAI/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>I came to Malaysia four years ago to work as a security guard. I guard condominiums and sometimes have to accompany visitors to their floors on the elevator. But I do not step out of the elevator. We are not allowed to.I paid for my tickets to come to Malaysia, and my employer deducted 1,000 Ringgit over the course of two months from my salary. It may not sound as bad as what other migrants pay for these jobs but it was the deal I had struck with my agent.He had previously sent me to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Qatar</a> as an electrician and after five months of not being paid, I returned. He deemed it cheaper to send me to Malaysia as a security guard than to repay the Rs95,000 I had paid for the job in Qatar. It took me 10 months to haggle with him, but it worked out eventually.Every day for the past four years, I have worked for 12 hours, 30 days a month. I can send home over Rs40,000 a month, which for my family is a lot.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-high-life/">The high life</a>, Nepali TimesBut I realised the fragility of our lives when my roommate, also a security guard, died a few months back.Let’s call him Shiva dai.We had been roommates for over two and a half months. We shared a room but we only saw each other for an hour or two every morning given our duty hours.From the onset it was obvious that Shiva dai <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/disproportionate-number-of-deaths-of-Nepali-workers-in-Malaysia,2812" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">came to Malaysia to grind</a>. He had a singular purpose of earning as much as he could while here. Perhaps we all come to the Gulf or Malaysia with the same aim, but Shiva dai was a different breed. He worked two jobs, which meant he worked 20 hours a day, every day.“We are here to work, to earn money, so I will do whatever it takes to earn as much as I can,” he used to say. And he did. “Why don’t you take up another job or extra shifts?” he used to ask me. I didn’t think it was physically possible for me, 12 hours was more than enough.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-sons-dream/">A father’s sacrifice for his son’s dream</a>, Nepali TimesShiva dai was nice to me. We cooked separately but when we made good food, we used to share it with each other. I had gotten used to our mornings when we cooked and chatted as we ate. I used to ask him not to work so hard, to take care of his health. He used to say he got to sleep at work, on his chair during the night shift when everything was quiet and there wasn’t much to “guard”. In fact, he used to be annoyed at me for not taking advantage of such easy opportunities but I resisted. By his standards, I might have looked idle to him.One morning, Shiva dai was cooking: boiled eggs for breakfast and chicken soup for his lunch and dinner. He asked me if I could stir the chicken while he took a shower. I agreed. The soup was looking good that morning, especially as I had just come back from a 12 hour night shift.When Shiva dai came out of the shower, he complained of a backache and that his legs felt stiff. He asked me if I could help apply Vicks on his back. He looked like he was in grave pain. As I helped him, I asked him if this has happened before, he said twice. Next, he was unable to move his leg. I got scared and called my boss. By the time paramedics arrived, Shiva dai had passed after having what looked like three rounds of seizure. The police came, took him away.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222859c7e80680e0c0300jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="472" height="398">When his wife called, I was the one who broke the news. It was not easy. She initially thought I was joking but when she finally realised the truth, she started wailing. I spoke to a few more family members. Each time I had to relive the scenario, each time I had to hear them cry. It broke me.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fate-joins-then-separates-siblings/">Fate joins, then separates, siblings</a>, Anil ShresthaI had never before witnessed a death so closely. I was scared and too stunned to sleep, even though I had just worked a 12 hours night shift.I could not stay in the room either. It was eerily quiet but there were too many thoughts racing in my mind. Everything had happened so quickly that it was difficult to process it all. We were laughing and talking one minute, and he was dead the next moment.After much restlessness, at 5PM I went to work and took a nap in the rest post, a small room where guards like myself eat and rest. I resumed my duty at 7. I was disturbed for a long time.It took 29 days for his <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepali-migrants-too-young-to-die,2811" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">body to be repatriated</a>. It was during the pandemic so there were restrictions on flights and much backlog of bodies to be taken back home. He left with over two dozen others, four were just ashes.Read also: <a style="box-sizing: border-box; background-color: transparent; color: #006699; text-decoration: none; transition: all 0.3s ease-in-out; -webkit-box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/6372228e9c7e80680e0c0301jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption>Malaysia is one of the most popular destination for Nepali migrant workers. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>He did not have much belonging, just some clothes including two security guard uniforms. What stood out was a guitar. He never played. I think he was meaning to take it to his son back home. It was given to him by a family in a condominium where he had previously worked as a security guard.His suitcase could not be taken back so it was thrown away. He did not have much anyway, but perhaps his family could have found some consolation in receiving them. I don’t know.Since <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/wage-theft-of-migrants-during-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covid-19</a>, there has been a shortage of workers in Malaysia as they have stopped recruiting. It is only now that they are slowly starting the recruitment of overseas workers. But throughout these last couple of years, because my boss was unable to hire from overseas and it was too expensive to get local workers, he often wanted me to take extra shifts as there was always work. But for someone who works 12 hours every day, an extra shift means a 36-hour shift.You finish your regular shift at 7PM after working from 7AM and take up a night shift from 7PM to 7AM, only to continue your regular shift the next morning. Even if you manage to shut your eyes on your duty chair like Shiva dai did, it does not compensate for a full night’s sleep. But many Nepalis continue to work like this.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali TimesMoney is important and that is why I am here. But it is not everything.I have valued things beyond money throughout my life. I did not accept a dowry during my marriage even though it would have helped my family immensely. I do not want to kill myself for money here in Malaysia either. And especially after what I witnessed with Shiva dai, I have strong reasons not to overdo it.Translated from a conversation in Nepali.Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/">Power of workers working together</a>, Madhusudhan Ojha

Close encounter with death

<figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/637221559c7e80680e0c02b0jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>"As I dangled on the ropes to clean windows of skyscrapers, cars in the streets below used to look like tiny toys."</figcaption></figure>This is the 11th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with the stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I moved from Solu Khumbu to Kathmandu when I was 10-11 years old with my brother for my education. My childhood back in my village was a combination of school and work, since I also helped my parents on the farm whenever I could. My father is a high altitude guide who has summited Mt Everest 11 times, while my mother is mostly busy in the potato field, and also manages a trekking lodge. Our village falls in the Mera Peak trekking route, so we often had tourists staying over. I was a shy kid, and did not interact much with them although the chocolates they handed out were always something I looked forward to.I first joined a trek when I was 18 with my father. He was my mentor, he taught me how to fix climbing ropes and take care of our clients. It was an 18-day trek to Mera Peak, and I still remember earning Rs2,000 per day along with a $300 summit bonus. My father would later tell me that the guests complimented my work and how despite being young and new, I had the strength of a strong climber. It is exciting on new trekking routes, but if you keep going over the same trails the up and down can start to get monotonous.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/">Power of workers working together</a>, Madhusudhan Ojha <figure><img width="1600" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/637221589c7e80680e0c02b1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>"My father, a high altitude guide, taught me how to fix climbing ropes on Nepal's mountains."</figcaption></figure>During such times, you are just left with your thoughts. It is up to you to distract yourself and find ways to stay engaged, entertained and even challenged by breaking your own previous records. My father was strict about not letting me listen to music on my earphones during treks.Even as the son of a climbing guide with a strong reputation in the mountaineering community, I did not face a lot of pressure to get into the same profession. I did ask myself whether the risk was worth it, and felt sad whenever my father returned from the more difficult expeditions with a black weather-beaten face that took weeks to recover. Many high altitude guides never return from expeditions, and there is always a gnawing fear before each of these difficult expeditions that something might go wrong and we may never see him again. I remember this used to be very stressful, especially for my mother. In 2014, when we heard that there was an avalanche at Everest Base Camp, my father was out of touch for 12 hours. All we could do was pray.  <img width="472" height="398" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/6372215b9c7e80680e0c02b2jpeg.jpg" alt="">The money may be good in climbing, but there are big risks. It is also more than just money, as there is so much tied to these climbs — our aspirations, a personal record we want to beat, or history we want to make. My father wants to summit Mt Everest 25 times in his lifetime.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali Times <figure><img width="1600" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/6372215c9c7e80680e0c02b3jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>“My father, Dad Sanga Sherpa, a high altitude guide, has summited Mt Everest 11 times, and aims to hit his target of 25 times in his lifetime.”</figcaption></figure>I worked as a guide during trekking seasons, but decided to go to the UAE in 2019 where my brother had been working for a few years as a rope access cleaner. It is not common for people from our village to go to countries in the Middle East or Malaysia. Only a handful have gone there for work from our village while some have emigrated to Europe, Japan or the USA for further studies. Most continue to follow the mountaineering profession of their fathers. On my brother’s guidance, I took a one-week training in Kathmandu on rope access cleaning provided by a French trainer, received my Level A certificate and went to Dubai to work in the same company as my brother. The training cost Rs95,000, and the recruitment cost was Rs89,000.In the UAE, I still remember how my first descent after a two-day refresher training was cleaning windows of an 89-storey skyscraper. I had never seen buildings that high in my life. Despite being used to mountains, my body was trembling as my supervisor pushed me off the ledge from the top. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fate-joins-then-separates-siblings/">Fate joins, then separates, siblings</a>, Anil Shrestha <img width="2000" height="900" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/637221629c7e80680e0c02b4jpeg.jpg" alt="">Nothing from my climbing experience nor the training in Nepal had adequately prepared me for this. I was disappointed about being so scared, as I descended nervously and cautiously. The high-rises in UAE were much taller than the buildings in Kathmandu we trained in, and we had to carry two 30-litre water containers, unlike the small buckets we used in the Nepal training. Up there 89 floors high, I felt nauseous and my feet felt weak. By the time I was finally done, my colleagues who had a similar assignment in the same building had already been resting for three hours.But I gradually got used to the task, the height and the heat. When the temperature climbed, we used to try to find cooler parts of the buildings to clean. As we swung in the air, cars in the streets below looked like tiny toys. The views inside through the windows were also interesting when blinds were not drawn — especially the lavish and luxurious interiors. Often, the residents would wave at us from the inside, and a few generous ones even used to tip us.My earnings in Nepal during trekking season were quite good, but I did not really value money that much. I had a carefree खायो-घुम्यो-उडायो attitude towards the seasonal work on the mountains.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung  <figure><img width="768" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/637221659c7e80680e0c02b5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>"My brother and I, both UAE returnees, now run a rope access cleaning company in Nepal."</figcaption></figure>But in the UAE, I learnt to value money perhaps because of the demanding work I did day in and day out in the heat. My pay was Rs45,000 a month, and I used to send money home, and save whatever I could.After two years there, I decided to return to Nepal with about Rs600,000 in savings. I was not satisfied with my salary and there was no overtime work which makes a big difference for migrant workers who are just there on temporary contracts. My brother also returned soon after I did, and we decided to use our skills and experience to start a company in Nepal, called Rope Access Professional Cleaning Service. Our business is doing quite well as we have managed to secure contracts with hotels, malls and office complexes including Marriott and Durbar Mall. While there are challenges to running a company in Nepal, we must be doing something right as there are other players in the sector who have been around for longer. My father who initially had told me not to go abroad, now admits that this overseas experience was in fact quite beneficial for me.I still have not left mountaineering, and want to continue guiding climbers. I had wanted to take a high altitude climbing course this year, but could not entroll in time. I am now trying to get experience in mountains higher than  7,500m, after which I have set my eyes on Mt Everest. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-sons-dream/">A father’s sacrifice for his son’s dream</a>, Nepali Times <figure><img width="1276" height="1600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412114/637221689c7e80680e0c02b6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>"That is me back in Nepal dangling outside Darbar Mall in Kathmandu, where our company cleans windows."</figcaption></figure>We climb for more than just financial reasons. I have the dream to get to the top of the world’s highest mountain at least once in my lifetime. When I do, I will unfurl my company’s banner on top. A friend who is in the trekking business had offered to do it on my behalf during his Everest summit, but I refused the offer even though we had a banner ready. It is personal, and I dream of doing it on my own someday. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

The high life

<figure><img width="1750" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721cf49c7e80680e0bd4bejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo credit: PAUL JEFFREY</figcaption></figure>Every new crisis heightens the importance of l<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men/">abour migration</a> for Nepal’s economy. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/defying-predictions-nepals-remittances-still-high/">Remittance money</a> has run this country for past centuries, right down to the present day. A succession of rulers have not offered citizens even the bare minimum to survive, so Nepalis have voted with their feet – as workers or warriors overseas. Now, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/female-migrant-workers-hold-up-half-the-sky/">women have also started migrating</a>, and about 10% of Nepali workers abroad are female.Remittance accounts for more than a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/">quarter of Nepal’s GDP</a>, an ever-growing portion of which is from women workers abroad. Many are employed in India and in countries banned by the government, which means they are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/caring-for-nepals-women/">missing from official records</a>.The history of labour migration from Nepal has its roots in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-start-of-the-anglo-gorkha-war/">Nepal-British India wars.</a> Even before the formal defeat of the former <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10937#.Yljce9NBzAM">Gurkhas were being recruited by Sikh king</a> Maharaja Ranjit Singh in Lahore having seen their bravery at the battle of Kangra in 1815. The word <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10937#.Yljce9NBzAM">Lahure, लाहुरे,</a> denotes soldiers and men working abroad and is derived from the British cantonment in Lahore.  Migration of Nepali men for work and/or settlement is comparatively well documented, but women not so much. Even more neglected is the sacrifice and contribution of the women left behind in Nepal.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10937#.Yljce9NBzAM">'Lahureys’ prop Nepal’s economy</a>, Rajendra DahalIn his new book Lahure Women: Two Centuries of Struggle, Service and Silent Fortitude, Nepal scholar David Seddon looks at the role of the लाहुरे, the daughters, wives, mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmothers of Gurkhas and latter-day migrants in the Gulf, Malaysia and other countries.This is an attempt to bring women to the fore, and shed light on their changing role in Nepali society. The book has a brief history of Gurkhas in wars of the<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/looking-back-at-the-1923-nepal-britain-treaty/"> last 200 years</a>, and the role of Lahure women. Labour migration was also the beginning of women empowerment in Nepal. Women left behind had to take care of families and farms after the men left. The difference today is that the women are also leaving in greater numbers – to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/demand-grows-for-nepali-caregivers-in-israel/">work as caregivers in Israel and as household help</a> in the Gulf countries.This is the driving force behind the increasing purchasing power of Nepali families, the dramatic fall in the poverty rate, and the spurt in grassroots development. Families in villages can now afford more nutritious food, healthcare and ‘boarding’ school education for their children – paid for by remittance money sent home. Many women who initially faced increased burden in absence of men are now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/women-leaders-set-example-for-rest-of-nepal/">leaders of their communities</a>. They head forestry users groups, are in school management committees, volunteer as community health workers, implement drinking water projects, and are adapting to climate change.   Seddon reminds us that not all women were left behind. Even during the Anglo-Nepal war, women and children followed the Gorkhali garrisons and made up a significant portion of camp followers. Some were companions or concubines. Wives of Gorkhali soldiers even fought and died alongside their husbands in the battles of Kangra and Malaun.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/history-of-female-immobility-in-nepal/">History of female (im)mobility in Nepal</a>, Upasana KhadkaDuring the 19th century, Nepalis migrated to India to avoid high taxation, or to escape debt. As tea plantations spread in Darjeeling, entire families moved out of eastern Nepal to be pickers. From there they went on to Bhutan and Burma to work in dairy farms. It was in the late 19th century that Nepalis ventured beyond India, starting with Fiji and the West Indies, where they went as indentured labourers in British sugarcane plantations – many went with families.Seddon traces what must be one of the first documented Nepali woman migrant workers. He writes: ‘In a fascinating discussion of Indian indentured labour, involving predominantly Indian women being shipped to the West Indies and elsewhere, by Gaiutra Bahadur, mention is made of a “Nipalese woman” named Morti.’In the original document, Morti is described as refusing to acknowledge her husband and ‘if the couple had been married, it was perhaps a hastily struck depot or shipboard marriage as they were not from the same part of India, not remotely.’There were 200,000 Gurkhas deployed in the First World War, which accounted for one-fourth of the total male population in Nepal at the time. The Second World War also saw a similar number. Nearly 50,000 Nepali young men were killed in both wars, leaving us to consider what impact this loss might have had on the families in rural Nepal.Others chose not to return and settled with their families in Hong Kong, Singapore, Burma and Malaya where they had served under the British Army. By 1952-54, just over 12% of all Nepalis abroad were women. Seddon tries hard to find information on the roles Gurkhali women played, but it is scanty. The historical neglect by the state of Nepali women is reflected in the lack of documentation of their role, rendering their experience and sacrifices invisible. The book relies on reportage, including some from the Nepali Times. (Wish the author had credited the feature on Nepalis in Thailand, though.) <img width="326" height="279" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721cf69c7e80680e0bd4bfjpeg.jpg" alt="">Seddon himself acknowledges the gaps and the need for more research. Lahure Women can be seen as the start of a process for further anthropological research into this important socio-economic aspect of Nepal’s migration. Read more: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepali-migrants-too-young-to-die,2811">Killed in the line of duty</a>, Om Astha Rai

Sonia Awale

The women left behind

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d619c7e80680e0b78bejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1600"/><figcaption>Reunited after 12 years: Sajita Lama with her mother in her home in Nepal.</figcaption></figure>I first came to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepalis-caught-up-in-beirut-blast-recount-horror/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lebanon</a> when I was 18 years old. I lived in the country for 12 years as a domestic worker. Of the 12 years, I was only paid my salary for 1 year and 9 months.My case is unique because unlike others, I did not realise that I was being cheated through most of my stay there. I got along well with the family that I worked for.When they said they were saving up my wages in the bank, I believed them. Why would I not? They were like family, or so I thought. The idea of taking home a lump sum of money all at once was very appealing to me. After all, I had come to Lebanon to earn money to support my family back home in Nepal.Now I realise that I was too trusting, and it was naive of me to believe that we were like family. They were just exploiting me, and trying to squeeze as much work from me as possible without paying for any of it.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-in-saudi-arabia-rescued-after-13-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali in Saudi Arabia rescued after 12 years</a>, Upasana Khadka and Marty LoganIt is easy to fall prey to such a trap like this if you believe, like I did, that people are decent. A kind word here, a pat there, and sometimes, a bakshish is all it takes to motivate you.But all of that turned out to be just selfish actions by my employer to derive as much value out of me as I <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16350#.YiwChi2B3ow" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">slaved</a> for them. Everything was fine, and I was treated well as long as I was willing to be a domesticated domestic worker whom they could tame.The minute they realised that I was also someone with a family that I had to care for back home, with my own feelings, opinions, preferences, they completely switched on me. This was in 2021, the minute they realised that I was determined to go back to Nepal after a decade in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/homes-away-from-home/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lebanon</a>, the trouble started.For over a decade, I had patiently obeyed all their demands, even though I was technically working for two employers and should have been paid more. My employers and their parents lived separately, and I was made to work in both the homes.Despite the double work, I realised I was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/wage-theft-of-migrants-during-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">not being paid</a> even my basic wages let alone anything extra for the endless hours of work. I had to get up at five thirty every day, and it would usually be midnight by the time I got to bed. All day I would be busy with all kinds of household chores in both houses.If I had not been too trusting, I would have figured out much earlier in just how much trouble I was in.For over a decade, I believed my Madam's father was kind to me. He used to give me bakshish once in a while which I used for my personal expenses like toiletries and such, but also on food for the family or for clothes for her children.It came naturally to me that this was the way families behaved. I genuinely had a soft corner for the elderly couple. I helped with their medications, cleaning, cooking etc, and even accompanied the old man’s wife to hospital when she had to stay overnight. But now, in retrospect, I realise that it was all just a put-on to use me.I remember wanting to come home after my first three years of my stay in Lebanon. My Madam cried as the family at that time was wholly dependent on me. I took care of their ailing mother, of their little children.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/female-migrant-workers-hold-up-half-the-sky/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Female migrant workers hold up half the sky</a>, Sahina ShresthaAfter five years, once again I said I wanted to return. The same thing happened. I relented because they were treating me well, and I trusted them that my salary was being deposited in the bank.Finally in 2021, I realised I had had enough. It was time to come home. They tried to silence me by falsely assuring me that they would send me home as soon as they got a replacement.Months passed, and they would not bring anyone. How many “next month, I promise” would I have to believe? As I got increasingly impatient and started voicing my desire to go home, they started behaving cruelly to me.When it was evident that I was no longer willing to be their puppet and my <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18140#.YiwCcy2B3ow" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">longing for home</a> was too strong this time, they showed me their true colours.They said things like "I hope your plane crashes”, or "You are worth nothing”. These inhuman words ring in my ears to this day. Even then, they would not let me go no matter how much I insisted.I started losing my appetite and getting depressed. I had a feeling of being trapped without any way out. I felt as if I was suffocating. I remember calling my sister and mother in Nepal out of desperation with the words: "Either get me out of here or be prepared to receive my dead body." This is exactly how I felt.Read also: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries 1</a>My uncle managed to get hold of a Nepali in Lebanon, and requested him to help rescue me. That man put me in touch with the Nepal Consulate in Beirut, which tried to help me but couldn’t do anything for months.I also lost my nerve. At the Consulate office, my employer's father shed tears and I felt so bad that I assured the people who were trying to help me that everything was okay. We agreed to give them a month or two after which they would send me back, but they did not do that. I felt like a fool falling for the tears of the old man.On the side, the Nepali man my father introduced me to also reached out to the activist organisation <a href="https://thisislebanon.work/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://thisislebanon.work/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1647132892467000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3f8DkRJsFvnx-AlNxViqlf">This is Lebanon</a> which helps <a href="https://thisislebanon.work/case-of-kafala-abuse/farouk-khoder-enslaves-salmo-for-a-decade/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://thisislebanon.work/case-of-kafala-abuse/farouk-khoder-enslaves-salmo-for-a-decade/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1647132892468000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3BEsf20kRI6NI8kgzmuDel">migrant domestic workers like me</a> in the country. It would turn out to be my saviour.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d649c7e80680e0b78bfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figcaption>Screenshot of Sajita Lama’s phone where she was being helped by activists from This is Lebanon to geolocate her employer’s house.</figcaption></figure>When Dipendra Upreti from This is Lebanon first started reaching out to me, I would be scared and used to hang up on him. But slowly, he convinced me that he was there to help workers who were in trouble like me. Indeed, he had been in touch with my family in Nepal, the Consulate, the Nepali community in Lebanon to plan my rescue.Back in the house of my employers, I was getting more and more paranoid. It felt like the employers were always plotting something to get me jailed so they could get out of the arrangement without paying the salary they owed me.By this time, This is Lebanon had already reported my employers on my behalf and were <a href="https://thisislebanon.work/case-of-kafala-abuse/a-decade-of-bondage-at-richard-and-rana-khourys-home/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://thisislebanon.work/case-of-kafala-abuse/a-decade-of-bondage-at-richard-and-rana-khourys-home/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1647132892468000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0jZXcrKGls6HSl4co-Nglt">naming and shaming my employers</a>.Finally the police rescued me from my employer's home after an order from the General Prosecutor. At the police station, the employer tried to come up with a settlement of $1,800, with a promise that he would send the rest later.I did not agree. How could I trust them to send the salary they owed me, when I have already left the country? This time, I was not  going to budge unless they paid all my dues.Read also: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries 2</a>At the police station, they brought my clothes, my phone charger and earphones but not my phone. They knew how to mess with my head. But I kept quiet. The Consulate sent his driver to pick me up after which I was sent for quarantine and then to a shelter run by Caritas.In both these places, I would not eat, I just could not stop crying. I was stressed beyond words, and all the memories of the past year would haunt me all the time. I was in such bad shape that they decided to send me home, and This is Lebanon bought my ticket to Kathmandu.When I left Lebanon and landed in Kathmandu airport on 15 February, I did not have any money on me. I was relieved, but also very weak and tired. I felt like I would not make it. Perhaps I had returned to Nepal just to die, I thought.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-migration-in-the-2020s/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali migration in the 2020s</a>, Upasana Khadka<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d679c7e80680e0b78c0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2302" height="1194"><figcaption>Sajita Lama was enslaved by her employers for 12 years in Lebanon until she was rescued by an activist group. Screenshot from the homepage of This Is Lebanon that exposed the abuse.</figcaption></figure>How I got to Nepal is a blur, but the moment the plane landed I could not stop crying in the plane and in the arrival area of the terminal. It did not matter that people were staring at me as I wailed loudly, I was beyond being concerned about अरुले के भन्छन, what others would say.At immigration and every step of the way through the airport, I would be weeping loudly, and the officials would just let me pass through. I had only one goal at that moment. I had made it this far, and if I was going to die, it would have to be after I finally saw my mother’s face.I broke down when I finally saw my mother, and hugged her. Among all the emotions I felt, for some reason, as I held on to my mother, all I could say was “मैले केहि पनि ल्याउन सकिन आमा” I didn’t bring you anything....sorry Ama, I couldn’t bring anything for you."As she held me tight in her embrace, I remember my mother telling me that she did not need anything, everything was okay and having me back was enough for her.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The loneliness of a long-distance driver</a>, Diaspora Diaries 3Twelve years is a long time to be away from home and family. My Nepali is not as fluent anymore because of my isolation, and I keep mixing Arabic with my Nepali when I speak, and I do not realise that I am confusing people. They have to correct me.I have a lot to recover from. My physical, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/mindful-of-migrants-mental-health/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mental and emotional state</a> is very fragile. I took a walk today around the neighbourhood, but quickly returned home. What if I faint along the way? I have so much to recover from.I do not know what future awaits me in Nepal. For now, there are people who have been helping me and rallying for me, including financially. I appreciate all the help from the bottom of my heart. However, my fight will end when I get my employer to pay back salary he owes me.It is my money that I earned by working from before dawn to midnight for 12 years. Only when I get hold of it, will I be able to feel that justice has been done. The thought of all those 12 years boiling down to nothing financially eats me up every waking moment of every day.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720d6a9c7e80680e0b78c1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1600"><figcaption>Sajita Lama with the Rs5 note that her sister-in-law gave her when she left Nepal, which she has brought back to Nepal.</figcaption></figure>When I had first left Nepal in 2010, I had a 5 rupee note with me given to me by my sister-in-law. I kept that red bank note with me throughout my time in Lebanon.And that is all the money I brought home with me. I have now laminated the 5 rupee note. I will not forget this Nepali money because that is all I left with, and that is all I returned with.https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=34&amp;v=brF-iDT5jy8&amp;feature=emb_logoWatch this video (above) prepared by the activist group This is Lebanon of Sajita Lama’s homecoming at Kathmandu airport and interviews with her Lebanese employers. Parts of this video may be distressing to some viewers. To help her get back on her feet: Sajita Lama, Mega Bank Woman Account 1980050018887.Translated from a conversation in Nepali with Sajita Lama. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.

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