Batuli Maya Sarki

Bhutan is beautiful—mountains, waterfalls, trees—green, big, little—many trees. I remember eating fish, rice, vegetables, and meat. There was lots of fighting between the Bhutanese and Nepali people. We left for the refugee camp in Nepal when I was sixteen. My whole family was there. My husband’s family was there, too. At the camp I knit—scarves, shawls, blankets, book bags—and I sold these to people. It was a hard life. Eighteen years sitting at the refugee camp. In the camp there were many, many homes lined up—the houses were small, made from plastic tarps. It was so hot; so many sick people, fires always, and people cooking. My children went to school at the refugee camp. I was not happy in Nepal. I was happy to move to the U.S.

In Bhutan we had a big home. Our garden was filled with food. We grew tomatoes, potatoes, and beans. We had cows for milk and butter. It was a good life there. A good life in Bhutan, a hard life in Nepal. I like Boise. It’s beautiful. American people are beautiful.

I miss Bhutan—when I think about it—and only little, little thinking. I remember my neighbor, so much crying when we left to Nepal. I miss my friends there too much. I don’t like to think about it. My life is here, now. My children love it here. No fighting. In Nepal, when students aren’t writing well, the teacher hits the hands—they hit the hands with a stick. Here, no fighting, no sticks. Beautiful schools, beautiful teachers. In Bhutan, girls don’t go to school. We worked at home. We had many, many jobs. Cleaning house, yard work, caring for the cow, cooking, taking care of two brothers. I cried when my father said I could not go to school. Now I go to school. I am learning to speak English, learning to write, to read. I like to learn. Little by little, I start to understand. I start to speak, to listen.

Born in Bhutan. Spent 18 years in the refugee camp in Nepal. 31