Author’s Note: To further emphasize the notion of “Two worlds” mentioned below, this essay/reflective piece was divided into sections. The first half was written in Nepali, later translated, as I wished to talk about my countrymen in their mother language, while the remaining half is composed in English to showcase my integration into the diverse international hub that is Hong Kong.
“Who am I? In my heart, I am a Nepali who yearns to be recognized by my countrymen. But my physical appearance aligns with the local community and prevents me from truly being part of either world.”
This is a sentiment that often echoes in my mind, and one I have constantly reflected on ever since I came to Hong Kong 4 years ago. Leaving Nepal, my family, my friends, and everything that had shaped my entire life for a bachelor’s degree felt like jumping off a cliff to fly into the unknown, and for a long time, I struggled to find my own foothold.
Perhaps, it is due to the way I look, but ever since coming here, I have been perceived as a “local” by both locals and my countrymen alike. Where in Nepal, I would be seen as a tourist, and often looked at weirdly for seemingly speaking Nepali so fluently, I could see a similar case in Hong Kong but was worsened through the language hurdle.
I recall my very first conversation with my classmates. They mistook me for a local due to my appearance and initiated conversations in rapid-fire Cantonese. My hesitant replies in English would be met with surprised stares and a sudden shift in their demeanour, where I noticed a subtle but obvious nervousness on their side which began the emerging distance between us.
Of course, I do not blame my classmates. Were a Hong Konger sharing my situation visit Nepal, they likely would experience a similar event due to the initial language barrier. But no matter how hard I tried establishing a connection with my future colleagues, it proved to be a challenging task.
I admit this constant misrecognition of being seen as the “other”, this feeling of being neither here nor there, chipped away at my own sense of belonging from the get-go. Even simple tasks like grocery shopping became a, as I often quoted when venting to my Nepali friends, a “चिन्ताको मुहान” (Fountain of anxiety), as every grocery run was a struggle to communicate my needs to the shopkeepers.
This feeling of otherness pervaded even in my interactions with the local Nepali community. While they welcomed me with open arms, there was always an unspoken, underlying current of difference ever-present. Perhaps, it was my accented Nepali, which I have been told sounds too “विदेशी जस्तै” (foreign), or perhaps it was the lack of cultural understanding I had of the Nepalese in Hong Kong. But I found myself straddling two different worlds, yet never fully belonging to either.
I yearned- wanted to connect with my roots, to share my experiences and to be understood, but there was always a subtle disconnect everywhere I went. I was a Nepali, yes, but a Nepali not yet tinged with the hues of Hong Kong.
It was only after spending more time to understand both sides that I finally began to understand why I was facing such issues.
It was within the same Nepali community where the seeds of belonging began to take root. Listening to their own stories and sharing my own through our shared language allowed said seeds to sprout. The familiar foods, experiences of adapting in foreign soil, and those nostalgic and comforting festivals created a sense of familiarity as the seeds thrived. With more time, the community became my anchor, a field to spread my roots, and a place where I could reclaim a part of myself that I felt was lost in the initial storm.
And it is just not the Nepalese community themselves. With each passing years, those same local classmates began opening more to me, and they would become friends who I still cherish and meet long after they graduated.
Through them, I learned Cantonese to both adapt to my daily life and understand their own culture that seemed so alien. I started exploring Hong Kong with them more, and even found solace in connecting with other “third culture kids,” individuals whose parents were not from Hong Kong, but they themselves were raised here. The initial anxiety and gap that was present slowly stitched themselves together and I began to appreciate the unique perspective it offered, as while I learned more about local culture through my friends, I did the same by engaging them with the Nepali lifestyle.
The journey hasn’t been easy and there is still a long road ahead. At times, there are still moments of doubt, moments where that painful feeling of not belonging resurfaces. But I have come to realise that identity is not a static concept. It is fluid, evolving, and shaped by our experiences, that it needs time to explore and grow before finally settling into a comfortable form. I have not found that form yet, but I personally like to believe that I am still becoming, still learning, and my identity continues to be shaped by the experiences and encounters that unfold in this diverse landscape through both Nepalese and locals alike.
I am a Nepali in Hong Kong, and that is a story I am beginning to embrace with growing pride.
