Dhading; Rasuwa; Nuwakot, Nepal – As nine-year-old Ram Thakur walked uphill with his mother and dozens of others fleeing floodwaters on August 26, he looked back and saw brown water surging up. So they started running. His mother, who had been holding his hand until then, helped him climb faster. Then, as the sounds of the swirling water mingled with the shouts of those around them, she yelled to her son: “Chhito maathi hinda, pachhaadi na-hera,” Nepali for “Climb up faster, don’t look behind.” That’s what Thakur did, climbing higher and higher, until he finally looked back.
The water was still gurgling close by, but his mother wasn’t there any more. Nearly four weeks later, Thakur is still waiting – hoping against hope – for his mother and father. He is currently living in a government primary school turned temporary shelter house in Nuwakot district in Nepal, with 26 other children. They are among more than 500 children living in different temporary shelter homes across Nepal’s flood-affected districts, their parents either dead or missing.
Under Nepali law, a person must be missing for 12 years before they can be declared dead. The law offers an exemption from this rule during disasters, but for that, relatives need to apply to a district court for what is known as a judicial declaration of death. So for now, Thakur and the other children live in limbo. Legally, they’re not yet orphans.
But in practice, they are without their parents – and have been since the floods that killed more than 1,400 people and left at least 5,000 others missing. The morning of August 26 began like any other school day for Thakur. He was on his way to school with his mother about 8am when the disaster struck. Thakur’s father, who worked as a guide and driver, was at home: His work began at 10am.
Suddenly, they heard people shouting: “Daudanu, baadhi” (“Run, flood!”) They walked, climbed and ran until Thakur was separated from his mother. Then, he was stuck on a hill for a day with 13 other people until an army helicopter came to rescue them. “I was so scared and hungry. I thought I will also die,” he said. “My school bag, which had biscuits and a lunchbox, was also gone [in the flood].” As he sat eating dal, rice and saag – their lunch for the day – with the 26 other children at his shelter, Thakur explained that he’s confused about why his parents haven’t turned up to find him yet. “Mummy and papa knew how to swim so they should have come by now,” he said. A counsellor present with him said Thakur still runs into the open whenever he hears a helicopter hovering nearby, hoping his parents have been rescued.
A post-flood assessment this month by Nepal’s National Child Rights Council and the nonprofit Save the Children found that more than 1,000 children were living in temporary shelters, including more than 100 who were unaccompanied by any relatives and 439 who were without their parents but had other relatives with them, Ayush Joshi, programme director for Save the Children in Nepal, told Al Jazeera. In all, more than 32,000 children were displaced by the floods, and officials and nonprofits are working to trace and reunite them with their families, said Leon Muwoni, in charge of child protection at UNICEF Nepal. So far, 18 children have been reunited with their parents, Muwoni told Al Jazeera. The shelter where Thakur is currently living has eight rooms.
Six of them have been set up by local nonprofits, with waterproof mats, bedding and soft toys. Workers are building bunk beds for the children. A seventh room serves as a store for rations, and the eighth as the kitchen. Most of the staff on duty are Nepal police personnel, while the rest are representatives of nonprofits.
One counsellor is with them, too. All are women. Some 100km (60 miles) away at another children’s shelter in Dhading, four-year-old Shibani Tama does not speak any more. Both her parents are confirmed dead.
Caregivers at the shelter say she barely remembers the neighbourhood she lived in or her relatives, none of whom have come for her so far. All Shibani has told the rescue team and the counsellors is that she was at school when teachers made her rush uphill with other students. “She does not speak to anyone. Doesn’t let anyone comb her hair, too. Barely lets us change her clothes in two to three days after insisting,” said Yamuna Bhattarai, a caregiver at the shelter. “It is very disturbing to see her and others who are in extreme shock.
All of them are in dire need of psychosocial help.” Many children who have lost both parents have never known how to wash their hair, change their clothes or feed themselves. Others have become responsible for younger siblings while still children themselves. Ten-year-old Sanju Lama was going to her grandmother’s house with her two-year-old brother in Rasuwa district – the worst affected in the floods – when strangers helped them escape the flood by pulling them along. Her home was swallowed by the water.
Her parents, who should have been home when the floods struck, are missing. “Sanju gets shocked by loud sounds, even when her name is called out,” Bhattarai said. “She keeps holding her little brother’s hand tight, almost all the time. At night, she often wakes up scared.” The young girl spends most of her day reading English poems to her little brother. “They are the only ones for each other now,” said Bhattarai. According to UNICEF, across the affected districts, 18 schools have been destroyed and a further 20 have sustained damage, depriving children of safe spaces to learn, play and recover. Dozens of schools are located close to riverbanks in the affected areas and remain at risk.
An estimated 10,000 school-age children now face an uncertain educational future. Nonprofits, counsellors and childcare staff at the primary schools converted into shelters in Dhading say that efforts to make children feel safe and comfortable are often falling short. Toys, books and play materials have been distributed, but very few children are actually using them. Many remain withdrawn, distracted or too overwhelmed to play.
Joshi of Save the Children said the group had distributed toys and study materials to children in shelters. In some cases, he said, volunteers have seen children whose parents are missing “making and setting up families with parents in the dollhouses”. “These children probably don’t even understand what exactly has happened or why,” he said. “They are clueless about the next day, and the future in totality.” In many cases, children are now living in overcrowded shelters with little privacy. At the same time, authorities and nonprofits say they need to be careful about handing children over to people who say they’re relatives. “Some of the children whose relatives have been located are kept in shelters if those relatives cannot provide sufficient documentation or proof of guardianship, to avoid the risks of trafficking or child labour,” said Leon from UNICEF. Back at the shelter home in Nuwakot, Thakur sat on the front porch with an evening snack.
His eyes gazed into the orange sky of the setting sun, hoping for a helicopter to arrive, carrying his parents back to him. But it was darkness that came, and it didn’t bring a chopper with it.
