Hoping for a future | Feature

ASHOK SHAKYA

Every year the SLC results drama ends in tragedy for some, uncertainty for others, and joy for a few. This is a different SLC story, though here also despair and success co-exist.

In the Bhutani refugee camps in Jhapa, like elsewhere in Nepal, the less money available for schools, the lower the pass rate. The camp schools are supported by funding from a few NGOs (the UN High Commission for Refugees, Caritas Nepal, and the Lutheran World Federation), which comes and goes, is maintained or reduced as the policies of the organisations change. The Khudunabari Camp Secretary Manoj Rai say, "Whenever the assistance drops, the pass percentage drops too."

The camps, which this year had a low 28 percent pass rate, also face other problems. Residents used to be provided with a small ration of kerosene. Now they get coal briquettes instead. If they had electricity, this would be no problem, but they don't, and no kerosene means no light after dark, which means less time to study. Krishna Gurung passed SLC with a first division this year. He did his best, waking up with the 4AM daybreak, but he is disappointed. "I could still have scored a better percentage if there was light for the evening," he says wistfully.

RUBEN MEIJERINK

The teachers are also refugees, and as the population ages, there are fewer trained tutors. While having no trained teachers is unfortunate, it is also remarkable that the determination of a few people to educate the camp children has resulted in young people who at least have a shot at SLC. Most of the refugees know that realistically they can't keep expecting help from charitable organisations. "We've been here for 17 years and no one knows for how many more," says Rai. As in the rest of the country too, the Maoist insurgency and general political instability complicate matters for the refugees and the NGOs that support them.

Seeing their limited options, as well as the higher standard of living outside the camps, many students are wondering how—and if—to balance studies with earning money to help their families. Those who choose to focus on studies have to walk a tricky path. Higher education is not just an enormous financial burden; even if they manage it, they can't legally work, run a business or do any of the things that regular Nepalis do. Gopal Gurung, 20, from the Khudunabari camp passed SLC in the second division and is determined to study commerce, partly because it has decent prospects, but also because science, his first choice, is too expensive.

Gopal's struggle for an education is a lesson in dedication. He worked as potter in Kalimpong during school vacations to save money for his higher studies. Gopal is hopeful, because the alternative is despair, but he is realistic. "Assistance has been curtailed, and tomorrow we could be driven out of the camps. We may have to beg on streets. A person without citizenship is like a crippled animal," he says sadly. Hari Adhikari, a first division holder, will study as long as he can, even though he sees educated older refugees working in blue-collar roadside jobs. He says the temporary solution would be to create jobs in and around the camps according to people's abilities.

SHYAM TEKWANI

(L-R) Hari Adhikari, Dambar Karki, and a friend.
All these stories have one striking common feature. Gopal, for example, wants to study for a future that may or may not happen—he sees himself dealing with government, busy in road construction, but in Bhutan. The refugee students will study and if they can find work in Nepal, they will. But their strongest inspiration comes from the dream of returning to Bhutan one day and helping develop their country. Binod Gurung wants to be a teacher because, "One day, we will go back to Bhutan." Dambar Karki says passionately, "Only if I study now can I serve my people when we return." This conviction echoes through the mud-floored classrooms filled with reminders of home where a generation sits, looking at an uncertain future.

Investing in hope
The Bhutani refugee camp schools have got help, at least for some time. In August, Nepal Investment Bank Limited (NIBL) gave Rs 640,000 to the UN High Commission for Refugees to help primary schools. 110,000 refugees have been in seven camps in Jhapa since 1991. Many young refugees were born there and have never seen Bhutan. Donor agencies and charities are tired of supporting a situation they can't change, so corporate donations like NIBL's are important.