Nepal’s Stateless Youth: Hundreds of Children Left in Legal Limbo After Devastating Floods

Dhading; Rasuwa; Nuwakot, Nepal – On August 26, as nine-year-old Ram Thakur climbed uphill alongside his mother and dozens of others escaping surging floodwaters, he glanced back to witness brown torrents rising rapidly.

They immediately began to run. His mother, who had been gripping his hand moments before, urged him forward. Amidst the cacophony of rushing water and panicked shouts, she screamed to him: “Chhito maathi hinda, pachhaadi na-hera,” which translates from Nepali to “Climb up faster, do not look back.”

Thakur followed her instructions, ascending higher and higher until he eventually turned around. The water continued to gurgle nearby, but his mother was nowhere to be found.

Nearly four weeks later, Thakur continues to wait—clinging to hope despite the odds—for his parents. He currently resides in a government primary school converted into a temporary shelter in Nuwakot district, sharing the space with 26 other children.

These children represent a larger group of over 500 minors residing in temporary shelters across Nepal’s flood-ravaged districts, their parents either confirmed dead or unaccounted for. Under Nepali law, an individual must be missing for 12 years before a death can be officially declared. While the legislation provides an exemption during catastrophic events, it requires relatives to petition a district court for a judicial declaration of death.

Consequently, Thakur and the other children exist in a state of limbo. Legally, they are not yet orphans, but practically, they have been separated from their parents since the floods that claimed over 1,400 lives and left at least 5,000 missing.

‘They Should Have Arrived by Now’

August 26 started as an ordinary school morning for Thakur. He was walking to school with his mother around 8 a.m. when the disaster struck. His father, a guide and driver, was at home, as his shift did not begin until 10 a.m.

Suddenly, they heard panicked shouts of “Daudanu, baadhi” (“Run, flood!”).

They walked, climbed, and ran until Thakur became separated from his mother. He was stranded on a hill for a day with thirteen others until an army helicopter rescued them. “I was terrified and famished. I believed I would also perish,” he recalled. “My school bag containing biscuits and a lunchbox was also swept away by the flood.”

As he ate dal, rice, and saag—their lunch for the day—alongside the 26 other children at the shelter, Thakur expressed his confusion over why his parents had not yet come to retrieve him.

“My mother and father knew how to swim, so they should have arrived by now,” he stated.

A counselor present at the shelter noted that Thakur still ventures outside whenever he hears a helicopter hovering nearby, holding onto the hope that his parents have been rescued.

A recent post-flood assessment conducted by Nepal’s National Child Rights Council and the nonprofit Save the Children revealed that over 1,000 children are living in temporary shelters. This includes more than 100 unaccompanied minors and 439 children without parents but accompanied by other relatives, Ayush Joshi, programme director for Save the Children in Nepal, told Al Jazeera.

Overall, more than 32,000 children were displaced by the floods. Officials and nonprofits are currently working to trace and reunite them with their families, said Leon Muwoni, who leads child protection efforts at UNICEF Nepal.

Thus far, only 18 children have been successfully reunited with their parents, Muwoni told Al Jazeera.

‘She Speaks to No One’

The shelter currently housing Thakur comprises eight rooms. Local nonprofits have established six of them, equipped with waterproof mats, bedding, and soft toys. Workers are currently constructing bunk beds for the children. The seventh room stores rations, and the eighth serves as a kitchen. The staff on duty consists mostly of Nepal police personnel, alongside nonprofit representatives and one counselor—all of whom are women.

Approximately 100km (60 miles) away, at another children’s shelter in Dhading, four-year-old Shibani Tama has stopped speaking altogether. Both of her parents have been confirmed dead.

Caregivers at the facility report that she barely remembers the neighborhood she lived in or her relatives, none of whom have come for her. The only account Shibani has given to rescue teams and counselors is that she was at school when teachers directed her and other students to flee uphill.

“She does not speak to anyone. She also refuses to let anyone comb her hair, and barely allows us to change her clothes except after persistent insistence,” said Yamuna Bhattarai, a caregiver at the shelter. “It is deeply distressing to observe her and the others in extreme shock. They are all in dire need of psychosocial support.”

‘Only Each Other Now’

Many children who have lost both parents lack basic self-care skills, having never learned how to wash their hair, change their clothes, or feed themselves. Others have assumed responsibility for younger siblings while still children themselves.

Ten-year-old Sanju Lama was heading to her grandmother’s house in Rasuwa district—the worst-affected area—alongside her two-year-old brother when strangers pulled them along to escape the flood. Their home was swallowed by the water, and her parents, who should have been home when the disaster struck, are currently missing.

“Sanju gets startled by loud sounds, even when her own name is called out,” Bhattarai said. “She keeps holding her little brother’s hand tightly almost all the time, and she often wakes up scared at night.”

The young girl spends most of her days reading English poems to her little brother. “They are the only ones left for each other now,” said Bhattarai.

According to UNICEF, 18 schools have been destroyed and 20 more sustained damage across the affected districts, depriving children of safe spaces for learning, playing, and recovering. Dozens of schools situated near riverbanks in the affected areas remain at risk, leaving an estimated 10,000 school-age children facing an uncertain educational future.

Help Falls Short

Nonprofits, counselors, and childcare staff at the primary schools converted into shelters in Dhading report that efforts to make the children feel safe and comfortable are often falling short. Although toys, books, and play materials have been distributed, very few children are actually utilizing them. Many remain withdrawn, distracted, or too overwhelmed to play.

Joshi of Save the Children stated that the organization had distributed toys and study materials to children in shelters. He noted that in some cases, volunteers have witnessed missing children “making and setting up families with parents in the dollhouses.”

“These children probably do not even understand what exactly has happened or why,” he said. “They are clueless about tomorrow and their future as a whole.”

In many cases, children are now living in overcrowded shelters with little privacy. Meanwhile, authorities and nonprofits emphasize the need to be cautious about releasing children to individuals claiming to be relatives.

“Some 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 labor,” 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 a helicopter would arrive carrying his parents back to him. However, darkness came instead, without a rescue helicopter in tow.

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