Growing Up In A Refugee Essay

Growing up at a refugee camp in a very poor country is not what an average child has to go through. In Nepal we did not have much shelter to live by. We were given some bamboos, thatch and some rope to build up our home and once a month they would give us some rice. I grew up without electricity therefore television was very rare to me. I was born at the house made up of bamboo and thatch rather than a proper hospital with some form of professional care. My Mother tells me that the only reason anyone was taken to the clinic was only in great danger.
My Father worked at construction sites in the city when they needed hard labor, and my mother either worked at a tea field where she had to pick up tea leaves all day, or did the same hard labor. I still remember my mother’s bleeding fingers, and injuries. Seeing my parents come home after a long day at work with very little money for our family always made me think “that’s not going to be me,” and I saw no future for myself living with those situations. Whenever I was ill, my mom always tried to cure me with home remedies first but if nothing worked she took me to the clinic. When I was about 6 years old I was diagnosed with jaundice, I do not remember it clearly but I remember crying from stomach ache

We were given the opportunity to come to the United States by an organization called The International Organization for Migration (IOM) and we took it without a second thought. There are many kids in Nepal and all over the world who are not even be fortunate enough to go to school and I am going to school in the United States of America. My parents are my inspiration to become a pharmacist because I know that they have gone through very hard times to make sure that my siblings and I don’t go through the same problems. The refugee camp I grew up in is also inspired me to become a pharmacist and contribute to the people that are in