Away from home when Nepal shook

This is the 62nd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad.

On 25 April 2015, I was on a video call with my friend in Nepal from the UAE when she suddenly panicked. Her house had started shaking. My instinct told me it was an earthquake so I told her to get out of the house as soon as possible. 

As she ran outside, the line got disconnected. It was my turn to panic. A few moments later, she called again to tell me she was safe, but got disconnected again. Since then, I have not heard from her and all my efforts to reach her have been in vain. 

Even after a decade, I do not even know if she is alive. After her call, I was worried about my family as news of the mega earthquake had already started spreading. I could not get in touch with my father in Rasuwa, but was relieved to know my brother and other family members were okay and camping outdoors.  

My father, who had gone to the market, was missing and I was worried. My brother finally called to say he was all right. I was somewhat relieved that my family back home had survived the earthquake, unlike thousands of others. That our house was destroyed mattered less, but I was concerned about the frequent aftershocks. 

Being away at such a time is difficult. I am sure most Nepalis in the diaspora were in a similar situation: restless, sleepless and desperate to be back home as we refreshed our phones for updates or tried to call relatives. Some replied, others did not. My heart was in a constant state of worry: about my family, my village and my country. 

I was desperate to come home. My family was safe and alive, but maybe I could at least save one person from under the rubble if I went back to Nepal. But I was in the middle of my employment contract in the UAE and could not just leave.

After around two weeks, the desperate urge to return started subsiding and I became more practical. If I returned to Nepal, I would once again be unemployed and hard up. My family was living in a temporary shelter, and the best thing I could do was to earn as much as possible so we could rebuild our house.

My heart was aching not just for my family but also for my country. I transferred my first month’s salary of Rs80,000 to the Prime Minister’s Relief Fund. As my family was safe, I thought it was more important to contribute to the nation. 

I had served seven years in the Armed Police Force (APF), and perhaps that is why I felt a sense of responsibility. I also started remitting as much as I could to my family. Even before the earthquake, I was most careful about my spending habits, some might even consider me a कन्जुस miser. 

We value every paisa because we are aware of the pain of our families back home, and our own sacrifices: eating the previous day’s rice with cold veggies or dal in a plastic bag on the roadside during lunch breaks. 

The earthquake made me even more cautious. I wanted to send home every extra Dirham I could. I took on more overtime hours and even stopped spending on fruit and meat in the market on my days off. 

I was in the APF’s communication department, so I knew people in the Nepal government and I stayed in touch with them for earthquake updates. Nepalis in Dubai also asked me about the latest from home. 

Even today, when I think of that time during the earthquake, my heart feels heavy. It was poverty that kept me far from my family and country. I had migrated to work so I could invest my savings in my younger brother and children. 

My childhood memories are of scarcity and challenges. I did not even know what it meant to eat खाजा snacks in school. Till Grade 5, all I had was a pair of shorts, we could not even afford trousers. My family could buy me a school uniform only after Grade 7, and I wore it right through my school life.

It was only after my father went to work in Kathmandu that we stopped worrying about eating two meals a day. But poverty is relative. There were fellow students who got to eat lunch in school and focus on homework, whereas I had to finish household chores that left no time for assignments.  

And there were those who were even worse off, and did not go to school at all, or dropped out. The Maoist conflict made it impossible for me to stay in the village because the guerrillas tried to force me to join their militia. 

My older brother was in the Army and refused. To avoid them, I even used to ask my mother to lock my room from the outside. But one day, they dragged me out and warned that my brother or I had to join the Maoists within one month.

They even fired shots to scare me. My brother was posted in Itahari and told me to run away to Kathmandu. I quit my studies and joined the APF but the salary was low and my mentor from the force, a deputy inspector who treated me like a son, died in an accident. 

I lost interest and decided to migrate overseas. My APF salary was Rs10,200 a month at the time, and in the UAE I would earn over Rs72,000. I had loans of over Rs850,000 mainly because of my mother’s health expenses. With my Nepal salary, it would take me a lifetime to pay off these loans so I had to migrate. 

I worked as a security guard and later refilled cash in ATM machines in the UAE, and it was all to support my family. I focused a lot on my younger brother and parents as I was unmarried for the first few years. My own studies had been affected by poverty, but I could not let my brother face the same fate. 

I enrolled him in a private school and asked him to focus on his studies. I would fulfil all my personal dreams through him. He is now doing a PhD in China and this could not make me prouder. I think it is my life’s biggest achievement.

Read also: Quake survivors migrate for work

My father sacrificed his life for us. I was told that he used to bleed from his mouth from overwork as he crushed stones or cut wood. I wanted to make sure my parents would not have to worry about work or money anymore. 

I gave up all my dreams and passions in life except one — a deep desire to one day record my own songs. After returning to Nepal, I recorded three songs, including one that I had written some 20 years ago. 

I do not know what the future holds. I do not have the money to start my own business in Nepal, although it is constantly on my mind. I am a new father and my responsibilities are growing. If I am unable to start a business soon, I may very well have to migrate again to the UAE or to Europe.