Three months after he arrived in Vermont from Nepal in the summer of 2015, Bidur Rai couldn't help thinking it would be better if he were dead. While his family members were adjusting to their new environment, the Bhutanese man felt trapped in their two-bedroom apartment in Burlington's Old North End. At the time, Rai was unable to walk, or even stand, without assistance. Sport injuries had taken a toll on his body and limited his mobility. When they lived in Nepal, his family was around to help him. But in the U.S., Rai had to take care of his 18-month-old daughter, Bisasta, while everyone else went to school or work. When Bisasta was thirsty, Rai had to crawl across the kitchen to get her a drink. If she fell and hurt herself while playing outside the house, Rai had to wait for assistance from passersby. Meantime, his relationship with his wife and her sister became strained as the women struggled with the pressure of being the breadwinners. When they returned home from work, Rai was eager to find out how their day went. But they wanted to retire early. Rai, now 40, remembers thinking, I am a burden to my family. After their initial euphoria at arriving in a new country, refugees generally experience a "real dip" in emotions by their third month, according to University of Vermont associate professor Pablo Bose. He studies resettlement policies and practices in the U.S., Canada and Scandinavia. Having to flee a country is traumatic, Bose explains, but making the move to a third country is also stressful. Exacerbating the situation, refugees are expected to be self-sufficient within months of arrival in the U.S. "People are trying to do a lot in a short period of time," Bose says. Although Bhutanese refugees began resettling in the U.S. in 2008, Rai didn't submit his application until 2014. Unlike most of his friends and relatives, he didn't really want to leave the refugee camp in eastern Nepal where he had lived for more than two decades. Rai and his family were among the tens of thousands of Bhutanese nationals of ethnic Nepali descent who fled to Nepal in the early 1990s when a royal edict stripped them of their citizenship. After completing his high school education in the camp, Rai taught his younger peers for three years. He went on to earn a degree…
Three months after he arrived in Vermont from Nepal in the summer of 2015, Bidur Rai couldn't help thinking it would be better if he were dead. While his family members were adjusting to their new environment, the Bhutanese man felt trapped in their two-bedroom apartment in Burlington's Old North End. At the time, Rai was unable to walk, or even stand, without assistance. Sport injuries had taken a toll on his body and limited his mobility. When they lived in Nepal, his family was around to help him. But in the U.S., Rai had to take care of his 18-month-old daughter, Bisasta, while everyone else went to school or work. When Bisasta was thirsty, Rai had to crawl across the kitchen to get her a drink. If she fell and hurt herself while playing outside the house, Rai had to wait for assistance from passersby. Meantime, his relationship with his wife and her sister became strained as the women struggled with the pressure of being the breadwinners. When they returned home from work, Rai was eager to find out how their day went. But they wanted to retire early. Rai, now 40, remembers thinking, I am a burden to my family. After their initial euphoria at arriving in a new country, refugees generally experience a "real dip" in emotions by their third month, according to University of Vermont associate professor Pablo Bose. He studies resettlement policies and practices in the U.S., Canada and Scandinavia. Having to flee a country is traumatic, Bose explains, but making the move to a third country is also stressful. Exacerbating the situation, refugees are expected to be self-sufficient within months of arrival in the U.S. "People are trying to do a lot in a short period of time," Bose says. Although Bhutanese refugees began resettling in the U.S. in 2008, Rai didn't submit his application until 2014. Unlike most of his friends and relatives, he didn't really want to leave the refugee camp in eastern Nepal where he had lived for more than two decades. Rai and his family were among the tens of thousands of Bhutanese nationals of ethnic Nepali descent who fled to Nepal in the early 1990s when a royal edict stripped them of their citizenship. After completing his high school education in the camp, Rai taught his younger peers for three years. He went on to earn a degree…