Like many cities, Harrisburg’s population is dynamic and diverse.
People of various ethnicities and nationalities continue to add intricacy to the cultural tapestry of Pennsylvania’s capital. But for one group of recent immigrants, ethnically Nepali Bhutanese refugees, Harrisburg represents much more than better economic prospects. These people have come to our small city in search of something that has eluded them for more than 20 years—a home.
Coming to America
For the sake of context, I connected with Laura Beltle, the assistant director of programs at Church World Services in Lancaster, to get a better sense of the political situation that created this refugee crisis. Beltle works to place refugees from various locations across the globe, including many from the camps housing the expelled Bhutanese.
She first made sure to explain what distinguished refugees from other immigrants.
“Refugees are people who have been forced out of their country of origin because they faced persecution or fear of persecution due to one of five reasons: race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a specific social group,” says Beltle.
One such refugee, Dhan Saru, lives on Allison Hill. After I knocked on the door to his apartment, he invited me into his living room and introduced me to his wife Meena and his daughters, Anjana and Monita. As I sat on his couch, he began to tell me his story.
Dhan was born in Bhutan. For three generations, his people had lived peacefully in the south of the country. However, in the 1980s, the King of Bhutan and the Bhutanese ethnic majority, the Druk, began to grow concerned about the growing population of ethnic Nepalis.
“We had no human rights,” says Dhan. “Women could not wear their hair long; they could not put tika [a spot of red pigment] on their forehead. In Nepali culture, we pray to Hindu gods, but the Bhutanese government would not allow it.”
Beltle provided some historical context. Nepalis had immigrated to Bhutan in the 1800s, forming a distinct ethnic community known as Lhotsampas, or “People of the South.” They were granted citizenship in Bhutan in the 1950s, and many became more integrated into Bhutanese society. However, the Lhotsampas maintained their language, religion and customs. In the 1980s, the government in Bhutan instituted a program of Bhutanization and attempted to force the Lhotsampas to convert to Buddhism, speak Dzongkha, the official language of Bhutan, and wear Bhutanese-style clothing.
Dhan informed me of one aspect of Bhutanization that was even more radical. In fact, through his thick accent, it took me a few moments to fully understand what he said.
“They wanted Nepalis to marry Bhutanese people,” says Dhan. I re-stated what he said, asking him if they were forced to intermarry with the Bhutanese. Dhan replies, “Forced. Pushed to marry Bhutanese and become Buddhist.”
In the midst of an outcry and political organization by the Lhotsampas, the Bhutanese government stripped them of their citizenship. In December 1990, tens of thousands fled Bhutan back to their traditional homeland of Nepal.
Unfortunately for these refugees, the Nepali government was not any more hospitable.
“The Nepali government did not recognize the Lhotsampas as Nepalis either,” says Beltle.
Denied citizenship again, countless Lhotsampas became a people without a home. The U.N. quickly set up refugee camps in eastern Nepal, seven in all. Dhan met his wife, Meena, in Nepal. Unlike Dhan, Meena is a Nepali citizen. However, even marriage did not grant Dhan admission into Nepal. Without any other options, Meena moved with Dhan into a refugee camp, Beldangi 1.
Not surprisingly, life in the camp was difficult. Dhan and Meena’s children were born there. The children attended a school run by a non-governmental organization, where Dhan taught the Dzongkha language, a reminder that, despite the harsh treatment, many refugees still considered themselves Bhutanese. Dhan also created hand-painted signage for customers in Damak, a Nepali city in the region of the refugee camps. Meena made handmade tablecloths and traditional men’s hats, called topi.
For four years, Dhan and his family waited while their application for resettlement in the United States was processed.
No Resources
In 2008, the U.N. began the resettlement process. Neither Bhutan nor Nepal were taking the necessary strides to rectify the refugee crisis, so the U.N. turned to the United States for help. Cities across the country began receiving refugees.
“Resettlement is designed to be permanent,” says Beltle. “They are granted refugee status for one year. At that point, they can apply for a green card and be granted permanent residency. Finally, after five years of residency, refugees can apply for citizenship.”
However, prior to being granted a green card, refugees receive a special immigrant status.
“Most immigrants who come to the United States have to prove that they have connections and the resources to survive in order to be granted a visa. Refugees don’t have any resources,” says Beltle.
Instead, the United States immediately grants refugees the right to work and gives them access to welfare services. Even without a green card, refugees receive a Social Security number. Furthermore, the United States grants funds to charitable organizations, like Church World Services or Catholic Charities, which facilitate refugee resettlement.
Point Person
The resettlement process requires a lot of groundwork. Much of that work falls on the shoulders of volunteers.
Harrisburg resident Charity Roberts has dedicated her life to refugee resettlement. She began while a student at Messiah College. It was there that she met her first Nepali refugee. She then began working with Church World Services as an intern. Because CWS is based out of Lancaster, she became a point person for their placements in Harrisburg. She also teaches English as a Second Language for Catholic Charities.
Considering how convoluted American bureaucracy can be, such work is essential for refugee survival.
“I helped refugees navigate a lot of different issues,” says Roberts. “I took them to the Social Security office and helped them make appointments. I made sure they knew who to contact in an emergency.”
Many refugees do not speak English and, considering the challenge of education in the refugee camps, many are illiterate in their native language as well. Thus, coordinating appointments and making necessary connections to basic health services can be very difficult. It is easy to see how invaluable volunteers like Roberts are.
Still a Struggle
Dhan and his family were excited about arriving in Pennsylvania. After a first wave of refugees settled in a place, subsequent families often would go to cities where they already had family connections. Such was the case for Dhan and his family.
“Our family helped us find an apartment,” says Dhan.
However, despite speaking English and having a network of support, Dhan still struggled when he arrived.
“In Nepal, I was an artist, and I had a job,” says Dhan. “When I came to Harrisburg, I was jobless.”
Eventually, both Dhan and Meena found work at a meat processing plant. There, they work the second shift. Although the work is not ideal, they are very thankful to be able to work together on the same shift.
Dhan and Meena are most thankful that their children get to attend school. Although they attended school in the camp, their classes contained as many as 50 students.
Monita, who attends Marshall School, is especially happy about the opportunity. At school, she has many other Nepali friends. She is so enthusiastic about her classes that she quickly scrolls through the pictures in her phone to show me a picture of her ESL teacher.
“I am glad they can be in school and get knowledge,” says Dhan.
Despite Harrisburg’s reputation for underperforming schools, Dhan and his family remind us that just having access to education is a privilege that many around the world do not have.
The Nepali refugee community has already begun to leave a mark on the city. New stores, such as Nepali Pasal, have opened to meet the needs of the community.
However, their experience in Harrisburg has not been wholly positive. Already, Dhan has been robbed. With a limited understanding of the appropriate procedures in such an occurrence, refugees can be easy targets for exploitation.
“It can be dangerous here,” says Dhan, referring to the area of Allison Hill where he and many other Nepalis live.
Harrisburg Home
Despite countless difficulties, Nepali refugees already consider themselves lucky to be in a place like Harrisburg. Yet there is still so much more that the city can do to be welcoming to them.
“The best thing Harrisburg can do is understand the Nepali refugees’ background,” says Roberts. “People see the refugees walking along the river but don’t know why they’re there. One of the things the Nepali refugees suffer from is isolation. But once you have a connection with one refugee, you become part of the whole Nepali community.”
I asked if there are concrete things residents can do to connect with the community.
“Volunteering with an ESL class is an easy way to help,” says Roberts. “Places like Catholic Charities are always looking for volunteers. Individual churches can volunteer to sponsor a family. Refugees arrive without any furniture or other essentials, so donations can be a huge help.”
While I speak with Roberts, it becomes clear that her work with the Nepali community has benefited her as much as it has benefitted them.
As Roberts states: “There is a solid attitude about family life that we can learn from the Nepalis. The way they take care of one another. They have a lot to teach us about community.”
In my short time interacting with the Nepali community, I would definitely agree. I was graciously invited into a Nepali home. Before my interview was complete, Dhan pulled out a camera so that I might be included in a family photo.
Perhaps most importantly, “We, as Americans, can learn a lot about contentment from Nepalis,” Roberts says.
Again, thinking back to my conversation with Dhan, I have little doubt that Roberts is right. Despite being mugged and living in an apartment that most Americans would describe as cramped, Dhan is shy about saying anything negative about Harrisburg. Dhan has waited 20 years to find a home. Halfway around the world, in a place he often struggles to understand, it is obvious that he feels that his family has finally found one.
