Sunday, June 22, 2014

He's Leaving Home

On Sunday, I said goodbye to my closest Nepali friend. He, like my closest friend before him, is leaving the country to seek work outside Nepal. In my village, around a quarter of males over eighteen are currently living abroad. On average, half of a household’s annual income in my village comes from remittances. This relatively recent, rising trend is threatening the sanctity of the Nepali family and stifling the country’s potential development.

The traditional Nepali family is samyukta (joined), with several generations living in the same home or village. In rural areas, these familial ties create a strong sense of community that is readily apparent in times of joy (e.g. weddings, festivals), trial (illness, death) and many other aspects of daily life. Increasingly, however, families are breaking apart as the men leave home for work abroad.

For Nepalis, the holy grail of foreign countries is the United States. I’ve been asked dozens of times whether I might bring someone back to the states with me—some Nepalis have even offered to work for my family as servants. Each year, a few thousand Nepalis (such as my host sister) are awarded a direct visa through a lottery. Some Nepalis tell me of relatives who’ve entered the U.S. illegally through Mexico. With everyone knowing someone who has emigrated to America, many think that the U.S. is full of Nepalis. I can’t even count the number of times someone has encouraged me to continue speaking the language when I return to the states and encounter Nepalis on the street (as if it would be perfectly normal to start speaking a foreign language to a complete stranger). In addition, geographical knowledge tends to be pretty poor. My host family first told me that my host sisters live in New York; a few weeks later, they revised this to Michigan. In actuality, my sisters live in Texas. In addition, many people find it difficult to grasp the U.S.’s comparably enormous size and population (Nepal is the size of Tennessee and has a population of 30 million). Yesterday, for example, a man asked me if I had had ever met an American woman who had once been his English teacher. Only by giving travel times or distances do people (with widened eyes) realize the sheer immensity of the United States.

With the U.S.’s tight immigration policies, however, most Nepalis have to settle for going abroad elsewhere. Men who opt out will typically spend two or three years working in countries such as Qatar, United Arab Emirates, Malaysia, or India. For study, Australia and the United Kingdom are popular destinations.

The process to leave Nepal is often lengthy and expensive. Families may have to pay middlemen and bribe officials to obtain the requisite papers, forcing them to take out high-interest loans which, over time, will be repaid with a portion of the earnings from overseas. Those with formal schooling and technical skills may find decent white-collar work, but many find themselves in terrible conditions working in factories, construction, and other unskilled labor. The international news is replete with stories of Nepali men dying while working abroad. By American standards, the pay is poor (just a few thousand dollars a year), but for a Nepali family living on a less than $1000 a year, the benefits often outweigh the downsides.

Most men do earn a better income abroad, using the remittances to send their children to better schools. But without local career opportunities, I fear that in a fear years the thousands of Nepali children with remittance-funded educations will find themselves in the same place as their fathers—underemployed. They, too, will be forced to seek opportunities abroad. Furthermore, financial support from afar is not an adequate substitute for a father’s presence in the home. Then again, the paternal presence may not be missed, as many Nepali men play only a marginal role in their children’s upbringing. Indeed, the lack of positive male role models reinforces male entitlement and laziness that pervades village life. There are exceptions of course, but after graduating from high school many youth (particularly males) become little more than local loiterers. Seeing little to do in the village, they spend their days playing cards, drinking alcohol, and searching for a way out. For them, working abroad means travel, money, and something to do.


It saddens me to see people my age leaving Nepal, like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Certainly, a large cause of emigration is structural—there aren’t enough decent paying jobs in Nepal—but another is attitudinal. Many lament that the country is “naramro” (bad), blaming societal issues on government gridlock and corruption. While Nepal still has a ways to go politically, in my view the country is developing at a reasonable rate and has a bright future ahead. There is so much that these educated, progressive youths could do to hasten the process—as teachers, entrepreneurs, government officials, and even farmers. Those with creativity and motivation have an opportunity to make a successful life in Nepal—if only they can cast off the fatalism typical of generations past and take charge of their future. It will be considerably more difficult for Nepal to advance on the road of development so long as there is a slow, steady leak in the tires.

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