Gaurav Pokharel in Kathmandu and Hannah Ellis-Petersen in Delhi
Dhanbahadur Chaudhari now dreams of rivers of blood. Although he returned home to Nepal this week, flashes of the scenes he left behind in Israel won’t leave him alone, and for days he has barely been able to sleep.
Chaudhari, 25, was among almost 50 students from Nepal who were staying on a kibbutz in Alumim, the border area between Israel and Gaza, when it came under attack from Hamas militants on 7 October. Since the current conflict broke out that day, at least 4,200 people have died in Israel and Palestine.
Ten of the Nepali students died in the kibbutz, mostly from gunshot wounds and grenade shrapnel, and their bodies were flown back to Kathmandu this week alongside hundreds of evacuated citizens. One Nepali student is believed to have been taken hostage by Hamas.
The deaths of the students sent shock waves through the country, where travelling abroad for migrant work is common. Most of those who died had gone to the kibbutz as part of a “learn and earn” programme, where they helped to grow and harvest avocados and tomatoes and earned a small income.
Chaudhari recalls waking up to the sound of falling missiles and gunfire at about 6am in the kibbutz. He and more than a dozen others ran to the bunker, as they had been instructed, but Hamas militants threw grenades inside, the force of which knocked him unconscious.
“Shrapnel hit me as well,” he said. “When I woke up I was covered in blood and I could see my friends dead and injured around me. One friend didn’t have legs, another didn’t have hands. There were dead bodies of my friends in the door of the bunker.”
Over the next few hours, he attempted to help friends around him who had been hit with bullets, having to crawl over corpses to try to get water and tie bedsheets around their gunshot wounds. He said several of them bled to death as help did not arrive from Israeli forces until hours later that evening.
Even after coming home to Nepal, I am haunted by memories of my bleeding friends begging me for help. It’s a trauma that will stay with me for my lifetime.
Pramod KC, 24
“I was sure this would be the final moment of my life,” Chaudhari said, adding that he had got through the long hours before Israeli police finally rescued them by closing his eyes and thinking of his family back in Nepal.
KC Pramod, 24, was also in the bunker that morning. He witnessed his friends Ganesh Kumar Nepali and Dipeshraj Bista shot dead in front of him. Another friend, Bipin Joshi, was seized from the bunker entrance and taken by Hamas militants and has not been seen since.
“We started shouting ‘We are Nepali, we are Nepali’ but they didn’t listen to anyone, they just kept firing and threw two grenades into the bunker,” Pramod said. “After that, the bunker was completely covered in blood.”
He said he hid beneath the corpses of several of his friends for at least four hours. “Some friends were bleeding very badly but I was helpless,” he said. “At that time, I didn’t even know who died and who lived.
“Even after coming home to Nepal, I am haunted by memories of my bleeding friends begging me for help. It’s a trauma that will stay with me for my lifetime.”
For the families of those who died in the kibbutz attack, there was an overriding sense of disbelief. Several parents knew little about Israel and had never believed their children would be at risk. For many, their lost children had been essential breadwinners for their families.
Mukesh Swarnakar was among the dead in the kibbutz, although it had taken several days for his family to get confirmation. His brother Rajesh Kumar Swarnakar, 24, said their mother had not stopped crying and had barely spoken since his body was returned to Nepal.
“I am angry. Why was my brother sent to an area of conflict where he was not safe?” he said. “Nepali lives are seen as so cheap. For us he was the one who could earn money – he was the hope of the family.”
Kanaiyalal Chaudhari, 70, lost his grandson Ashish Chaudhari in the attacks. He described how Ashish had been working in Israel to save up money and return home to get married and take care of his grandfather who had raised him.
“Why didn’t God take me first?,” he cried. “Who will be my support in this old age? Grandson, why have you left this world?”
Published at The guardian
