The very first Nepalese migration dates back to 1620 when the Tibetan lama who unified Bhutan commissioned a group of Nepalese men to create a silver monument for his father. It was mainly in the late nineteenth century that many Nepalese people began migrating to the lowlands of Southern Bhutan, as they were in search of land to farm and to set up a livelihood. The Nepalese, who are commonly referred to as Lhotshampa in Bhutan, grew in population throughout the years. Around the mid-1980s, the Lhotshampa people began to protest for greater democracy in Bhutan and more representation in government. The Lhotshampa went on to launch the Bhutan People’s Party, but that quickly backfired. During the late 1980s and early 1990s, many Bhutanese elites, political leaders, and the royal family believed the growing population of Lhotshampa was beginning to impose a threat on Bhutan’s demographics and culture. To tackle the Lhotshampas, the Bhutanese government passed several discriminatory laws to remove them from Bhutan.
Thousands of Lhoshampa were imprisoned, tortured, and threatened by government officials and societal authority figures. When the Nepali-speaking community could no longer bear the pressure of the government, they were forced to sign documents that indicated that their exit from Bhutan was voluntary. Due to the ongoing discrimination in society, political unrest, and laws put in place to target the Lhotshampas, they sought refuge in their neighboring country, Nepal. In the beginning, when Bhutanese refugees arrived, there were temporary refugee camps by the Mai River. Eventually, thousands more Lhotshampa families were forcibly displaced by Bhutan, so there were permanent camps established for these asylum seekers. In February 1991, the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees provided assistance to Bhutanese asylum seekers. In early 1992, NGOs such as the World Food Program joined hands in helping Bhutanese refugees.
More than 100,000 people living in the refugee camps in Nepal were not citizens of either country. Bhutan expelled and revoked citizenship from the Lhotshampa using strategic, discriminatory laws, violence, and isolation. Nepal believed the refugees were not Nepal’s responsibility and Bhutan should take care of them. Neither Bhutan nor Nepal accepted these Bhutanese refugees as citizens. Beginning in 2007 until 2016 Western countries offered third-country resettlement opportunities for Bhutanese refugees. Western countries were much more at ease, opening the doors of their countries to Bhutanese refugees, as they were considered to pose less of a national threat than refugees from countries like Iraq or Syria. Countries that took in refugees were Australia, Canada, Norway, New Zealand, Denmark, Netherlands, United Kingdom, and especially, the United States of America. As of 2024, there are a couple thousand Lhotshampa living in refugee camps in Nepal. Most of them are seniors who hope to return to their homeland one last time before passing away. Even though the country of Bhutan is much more democratic, they have yet to recognize the refugees as citizens or allow them to return to Bhutan, even just to visit.
At one point, the refugee camp was my home. Then, we were welcomed into America when I was almost three years of age, and we lived in an apartment in the city of Rochester, and that became home. After a couple of years, an apartment in the suburbs became home. Soon, we moved into an actual house, and that became home. Now, we have a beautiful house outside of the city, and that has become home. Throughout the years, I have come to realize it is not a shelter made of bamboo and mud that makes a home, or the first apartment you get in America with running water and electricity, or a safe apartment far from the noises of the city, or the first actual house I ever lived in, or even our current home. Home is where people you love are. I recall from my earliest memories in the refugee camp, when I was two, that my grandpa would get out his bicycle and take me on a ride. We would sometimes stop at the convenience shop for a cookie. I felt the farthest from home when my parents and I left the refugee camp to come to America, and my grandparents’ flight was 10 days later. As a 3-year-old that had spent each and every day with my grandparents, those 10 days felt like 10 years, and I was missing home. I quite clearly remember the day my grandparents arrived. My mom told me they were in the apartment next door. I went running towards them, and my grandpa picked me up as soon as he saw me. I could hear his heartbeat when he held me close to his chest, and I could feel my grandma rubbing my back. I felt safe and loved. I felt right at home again.