'No Choice But to Stay Put in Israel, Earn for Family': Nepali-Indian Caregivers

"We might not be able to meet right now, but we are checking in on each other via calls and messages."

According to the Indian Embassy, most of the Indian nationals living in Israel are caregivers employed by elders, diamond traders, IT professionals, and students.

(Photo: Kamran Akhter/The Quint)

"Every 15 minutes or so, a siren goes off, and we have to go hide in the bunker. This is no way to live. We cannot step out of the house either," says Angel Shrestha, a live-in caregiver for an elderly couple in Ra'anana, an Israeli city located 20 km away from capital Tel Aviv.

Shrestha – a Nepali Indian from West Bengal's Darjeeling – made Israel her home in 2019. Currently caught in the middle of the Israel-Palestine conflict, which intensified after a 'surprise' attack on Israel carried out by militant group Hamas on Saturday, 7 October, she is among the roughly 18,000 Indian citizens living in Israel.

"We are safe for now – within these walls – and are following all the steps recommended by the Indian Embassy. But we don't know for how long it will be that way."

Angel Shrestha

In view of the current situation, the embassy issued an advisory to all Indian nationals in Israel to "remain vigilant", "observe safety protocols", "avoid unnecessary movement, and stay close to safety shelters." According to the Indian Embassy, most of them are caregivers employed by Israeli elders, diamond traders, IT professionals, and students.

'Have To Stay Put To Earn for my Family'

Shrestha has dependent parents – and she moved to Israel to be able to support them.

"I moved to Israel in 2019, frankly due to the higher salary that is offered to nurses and caregivers here. In India, when I was working in a private hospital in Siliguri as a nurse, I was getting paid only Rs 15,000. I am now getting around 70 percent more than that, and that is the reason why many women from our region are coming here," she tells The Quint.

Over the years, according to a Siliguri-based job recruitment agency, there has been an uptick in applications from women in the hills of north Bengal and Sikkim applying for caregiver jobs in the 'promised land'.

"In India, our nurses in private hospitals get a paltry salary and government jobs are very hard to come by. Plus we have benefits like health insurance and yearly bonuses here," says Shrestha.

According to an Indian Express report, apart from the salary, Israel also offers an easy immigration process to Indians because of its ECNR (emigration clearance not required) status. Those aspiring for the job of caregivers only need to attend a short-term course in Hebrew.

"But caregiving is not an easy job. It is long working hours here as well, but at least you get paid well for it in Israel," Shrestha adds.

Recalling how Saturday unfolded, Diki Sangmo Lama (name changed), who is a live-in caregiver to an elderly couple in Kiryat Bialik, a city in Israel's Hafia district, tells The Quint:

"Generally, the last day of a Jewish festival in Israel is not as loud... But on Saturday, I woke up to sounds of sirens blaring and what seemed like rockets being fired. Initially, I thought it was nothing out of the blue because sirens keep going off here. But that day, something seemed off."

"When we switched on the TV, we saw visuals of men from Hamas militant group kidnapping and dragging away families. This scared my employers – they got very agitated given their advanced age. My only thought was: what would happen to my family if something happened to me? In fact, later in the day when I called my son up, he kept crying and pleading with me to return," she adds.

Diki, who hails from Gangtok, is the sole breadwinner of her family. Her husband, his parents, and a seven-year-old son, who live in India, are financially dependent on her.

"I miss seeing my son grow up, but I have to stay put here. In India, my job as a nurse was not paying me much. I want my son to go to a good school and have a good education," she tells The Quint.

However, she adds that her job as a caregiver is exhausting – and that she barely gets any time off. "I get off only once a month and don't really get time to do anything."

A recent report by The Times of Israel highlighted how foreign caregivers in Israel have been exploited and extorted for decades. The report noted that most of these foreign caregivers, who hail from the Philippines, India, Sri Lanka, Nepal, and other countries, "occupy a room in the apartment" and are "effectively invisible in public life".

Even so, Diki says she would consider moving back to India only if she gets a job that is on par with the salary and the additional benefits.

When asked about how she is managing to take care of her daily needs amid the conflict, she says, "We have been requesting our client's family members (sons and daughters) to order things online for us. It is dangerous to venture out right now."

'Will We Meet the Same Fate as Those Nepalese Students?'

Nikki Ghaley (name changed), who hails from Mirik in Darjeeling district, works as a live-in caregiver for an elderly couple in central Tel Aviv. She recalls panicking on Saturday after she heard the sounds of gunfire followed by the sirens.

"This time, the conflict is different. It is not like the other flare-ups. What is the guarantee that they won't round us up and take us away? After all, they did exactly that to the Nepalese students," she tells The Quint.

Nikki is referring to the news of several Nepalese students being injured, killed and kidnapped in the Hamas attack on southern Israel.

She goes on:

"Tel Aviv is like a ghost town right now. There are very few people on the streets, no children playing around. It is eerily quiet. On my day-offs, I would go hang out with my friends from the Nepali community, have get-togethers, go with them to the beach. I really look forward to doing that, but I don't know when the situation will become normal now."

While she has no dependents, Nikki says she moved to Israel "to be financially independent." And she doesn't want to go back.

"If we have to go back to India and practice, we would have to register ourselves again, and that is a really lengthy process," she tells The Quint.

The three women – like the rest of the Nepali Indian community – is finding solace in each other.

"What has really kept us sane in these tough times is that the Nepali community has sort of come together. We may not be able to meet each other physically, but we are regularly checking in on each other via calls and messages."

She adds, "There is a sense of community among our didis and dajus (brothers and sisters). We have conversations on what we are going to do once this is over and how to spend our dasain (Dusshera). We really hope it gets over by then," says Shrestha.