My Struggle for Freedom
       (An autobiography by Raju Tamang)

FROM THE LAND OF THE DRAGON

My name is Raju and I am from Bhutan. Bhutan is often called Druk, which 
means The land of the peaceful dragon. But, as you will soon see, that is 
not always so peaceful. The eldest of five, I was born and brought up in a 
Buddhist family. My dad was a driver and now he has retired due to Bhutan’s 
political changes and my mom is a housewife. My older brother and sister are 
both married, and my younger brother and sister are students.
Most of the people who live in Bhutan are Buddhist. Only 20 percent of the 
population is Hindu and Christian is very few in numbers 2 percent 
approximately. Three different groups of people live in Bhutan. They are 
Ngalong, Sarchop and Lotshampas. The Ngalongs belong to the King’s race, 
make up about 25 percent of the populations, and live in the northern and 
western zones. Another group, called Sarchops, live in the eastern zone and 
make up another 35 percent. And the third group, the largest of the groups, 
is the Lotshampas. They are different groups of people from Nepal who live 
in the southern zone and make up the remaining 40 percent of the population.

THE KING’S TYRANNY IN 1989

In the year 1989, the government introduced a new plan and policy referred 
to as Green Belt. The government’s plan was to establish rice and fruit 
plantations three miles at the southern border of Bhutan. This meant that 
the people in the south, primarily the Lotshampas, would need to move 
towards north from the fertile land where they lived. They owned the land, 
the only place in Bhutan where rice and fruit would grow, and now the 
government was trying to take it from them. A large amount of income comes 
from the southern zone and, needless to say, the Lotshampas were not happy 
to know about the government’s plan and policy. There are also industries 
and factories in the southern zone that the King feared the people would try 
to control if he didn’t move them out. So, he began a plan of mass eviction.

WE WANT JUSTICE

In the middle of 1989, the government began to implement its plan. It sent 
in the military to drive people out of that area of Bhutan. Armies went into 
the villages, raped women, and threatened to kill the people. People went 
through this pain, and faced these problems daily. Two allied groups were 
formed to fight against this injustice. One was the Students’ Union of 
Bhutan, created by the college students, and the public created the Bhutan 
People’s party, or B.P.P.  One of the members from the Students’ Union was 
killed when he raised this voice crying, We want justice! after it was 
obvious that the government had violated Human Rights. The B.P.P released a 
cassette containing songs and messages based on this boy who was killed 
mercilessly. This tape was distributed to all the people of the southern 
zone to motivate them and to bond them in unity so that they would all fight 
for Human Rights. And by the beginning of 1990, one-fourth of the people 
form the southern zone joined in support for the B.P.P.
The Students’ Union, or S.U.B, had a base of operations outside Bhutan in 
the west Bengal area of Northern India, twelve miles away from the Bhutan’s 
border. When the camp was first set up, I was doing my 2nd year of 
automobile engineering in the Royal Technical Institute of Bhutan. At the 
beginning of July, my brother was compelled to join the S.U.B, after my 
parents received support letters from the B.P.P demanding huge amounts of 
money. If people would not support the movement, members of the B.P.P would 
come and kill the family, or burn their house. There was only one 
alternative for those who could not afford to pay, and that was to send one 
member from the family to join the movement. We were not wealthy, and my dad 
could not send them any money. He really struggled and did not know what to 
do.

During that critical situation, my younger brother joined the movement 
without my family’s knowledge. He knew that this would appease the B.P.P, so 
they would not do anything to my family. I stayed in my college’s dormitory, 
and went home every Sunday. One Sunday when I visited home, I realized, that 
m brother had joined the political party without my dad’s knowledge. That’s 
when trouble really began. The police department came to know that one of 
our family members had joined the party and, every day, policemen started 
coming to our house and taking a statement from my dad about my younger 
brother. My dad did not know what to tell them, because if he told the 
truth, he would be imprisoned. So he did not tell the truth and he made some 
stories to protect himself and his family. Finally, he decided to leave the 
house and stay in Northern India until all of this unrest was over. As I was 
at college, I got the message from my dad saying that I needed to leave the 
dormitory and come out of the country. I knew I needed to leave, but instead 
of just going home, I decided to join the S.U.B. On Saturday, the 14th of 
August 1990, I left the dormitory without informing my teachers.

About eighty of my peers, including some of my best friends, came with me 
to join the political movement. The process of the government granting 
people human rights when they were under pressure surely would be quick, 
right? It did not happen that way, though, and the process took much longer 
than we expected. Slowly, others started entering the political arena, 
leaving all of their possessions back in Bhutan to fight against the 
government. Within six months, we had more than fifty thousand people taking 
part in the movement and had established three different camps in the West 
Bengal border where we could influence others. On September 21st these three 
camps decided to unite make a peaceful march toward Bhutan. We had a slogan 
saying, We want Human Rights! The government used armies of about ten 
thousand soldiers to arrest the people involved with the movement, and many 
of the protesters were killed in the process. The number of people who were 
arrested was approximately two thousand, and I was one of them.

ARREST AND IMPRISONED

Ninety of us were arrested in the town of Phuentsholing, Bhutan. We were 
kept in the town’s prison for a week and interrogated. Under pressure, we 
gave statements to the police about our involvement in the political 
movement. On the 7th day of that week, the king of Bhutan visited the 
prison, and gave a short speech saying,  You people have done illegal 
things in the country, and I am very disappointed. On that day, sixty-six 
people were released and the remaining twenty-four of us were taken to the 
central prison in Thimphu, the capital of Bhutan.  I never expected to be 
imprisoned like that.

When we were taken to the central prison, we were tied up with rope and 
were handcuffed. In my life, I had never even seen handcuffs, except in 
movies. But on that day, I gained a new experience of handcuffs. I wept the 
entire way to the capital. On the way, our hands swelled in pain because the 
ropes were so tight that the blood could not flow properly. We reached our 
destination abound 10:30 PM. It was terribly cold and I didn’t have any 
clothes other than my paints and T-shirt.

The army officer told us to stay outside until he finished making all the 
entries. After his job was done, we were all brought into the prison 
courtyard. We were famished and nearly freezing. After half an hour, they 
gave us little bit of cold rice and curry and then we were divided into two 
groups of twelve each and forced into two small rooms to stay. When we got 
inside the room, we had a little relief from the freezing cold outside. 
After a few minutes, the jailer came and told us that we would no longer 
have hands handcuffed in the front. So, he opened our handcuffs and locked 
the handcuffs behind our backs. It was extremely uncomfortable to constantly 
stay in that position. We were not treated like human beings. We were 
mentally and physically sick.  After being in the central prison there for a 
week, we were taken to an underground prison, which was more than a hell!

CHAINED IN THE DUNGEON

After we were put in the underground prison, we were treated worse than 
animals. Let me tell you a few things about the prison’s conditions. Under 
the ground, there were not windows and no ventilation, so it was absolutely 
dark, and the air was dank. The room was divided into number of tiny cells 
that could hold no more than two people. The jailer forced five people to 
stay in one cell. Tightly packed together, we had no room to move. There was 
one small toilet attached in the corner. We all had to use the same toilet 
and later it was stinking because there was no window to get the fresh air 
from outside. Without ventilation, we did not get enough oxygen, and our 
body heat raised the temperature in the room until we were drenched with 
sweat. I felt as if we were crammed into a box. We were unable to sleep and 
instead would talk and encourage one another by showing a hope of going back 
home. After a few days, we complained to the army officer who checked on us 
weekly. We made him realize that we would not survive without oxygen. So, he 
told the jailer to keep the main door open so that the cool air could get in 
the room. That brought us some relief.

The food was just as terrible as the conditions I have told you about. 
They would bring rice, curry and dahl in big tins and dump everything in one 
huge bowl. After getting the food inside the room, they opened our cell’s 
door and let everybody come out to grab the food. We would rush like pigs 
because we were starving and they never gave us enough food to eat. We would 
often get no more than a handful of rice. We never got water too wash our 
hands so we ate with filthy hands. There was one old Hindu priest who would 
eat only a handful of rice so we would give him the first chance to go and 
take his share. When we rushed for the food, the soldiers would mock us, 
saying all kinds of nasty things about us.

We started acting like animals; our behavior and our actions proved that 
we had no human qualities. It was the government that encouraged us to act 
this way. It was not our desire, but the circumstances brought us to that 
situation. We always would keep our hands at the back, bound with handcuffs. 
We had a secret technique to bring our hands to the front, but if the 
soldiers had seen that, we would have been punished very badly. In prison, 
different soldiers visited us completely drunk and tortured us. They would 
punch us, slap us, kick us and beat us with their army sticks. We never did 
anything like dodging or blocking their blows, because they would beat us 
even harder if we did.

That was quite a sad part of our lives and we cried throughout the day. We 
became disabled and handicapped. Days passed by and the situation in the 
prison became worse all the time. The police and soldiers beat us daily, 
calling us terrorists. We had done nothing but formed a peaceful march, and 
they called us terrorists!

We were never allowed a bath, and so lice filled our hair, clothes and 
body, too. We would see the lice running in each other’s bodies and wanted 
to kill them, but we could not as our hands were cuffed behind our backs. 
One day I could not bear with the lice anymore, and I brought my hands in 
the front, using the technique we learned, and started killing the lice. I 
did not know it, but one of the soldiers was looking at me through a small 
peephole in the door. After sometime, he opened our cell’s door, pulled me 
out and beat me. I was beaten to the point where I could not even walk 
properly. The soldier was screaming at me that killing the lice was a sin. 
You see, that was a teaching of Buddha, and this man beating me was 
Buddhist. Unfortunately, the army overlooked Buddha’s teaching of 
non-violence.  As he beat me, my heart filled with anger. Had my hands not 
been restrained, I would have killed him, even if it meant dying in the 
process. The next day, my legs were extremely swollen and I could not move 
them at all. My digestive system would not work, either, because of the 
immense pain. Mercifully, the prison sent a doctor to check on us once a 
month, and so I got painkillers from him the next time he came.

I was glad for the painkillers, but they did nothing to help my legs. I 
was paralyzed and needed my friends’ help when I absolutely had to move. 
Four months passed and there was no improvement in my swollen legs. In spite 
of the medicine, my pain was constant. My leg condition was so bad. I 
stopped having any desire for food, and lost my will to live. The way I saw 
it, there was no hope for me to go home alive. One day, an army officer came 
to visit to us and asked all of us how we were. All of my friends told him 
about my condition. The officer said he would go and meet the king and try 
to get permission from him to take me to the hospital for treatment.  After 
three days, he came back and took me to the hospital. I was the first person 
among the prisoners who got a chance to go to the hospital for treatment. 
All of us needed it. They took me to the general hospital, x-rayed my legs 
and the doctor prescribed a lot of medicines for me.

After a week, a doctor visited us in the prison and, after he saw my x-ray 
report, he told me that I ‘d have to have my legs amputated because every 
tissue and muscle was damaged. I really began to panic at hearing the news. 
I told to him that I would not have my legs cut off; I preferred to be left 
how I was. I was so depressed and frustrated, I decided not to eat anything 
and instead offer my life as sacrifice for our freedom. My friends did a lot 
to lift my spirits, and after a few days, I was taken to the hospital again. 
My second visit to hospital was amazing. I got a chance to meet an 
orthopedic doctor who had seen my x-ray report and he told me that my legs 
didn’t need to be removed. He said that all I would need was a biopsy, a 
fairly minor operation, because there was nothing wrong with the bones. He 
invited me into his office and asked me how I got into prison. I shared 
everything that had happened. He encouraged me so much. On that day, the 
doctor spoke to the army officer that I needed to be hospitalized. So they 
admitted me in the special ward and next day they operated my leg.

HOSPITALIZED

In the hospital, I got good food to eat and a good bed to sleep in.  It 
was like heaven to me. The only problem was that they kept me handcuffed to 
the cot’s metal frame and I was not able to move my hands. I suppose they 
cuffed me to the bed so I would not move and try to escape. Let me just 
declare that Bhutan’s army does not have a brain. They knew that my leg had 
been operated on and had fifteen fresh stitches. Besides that, I was 
completely unable to walk. And yet they kept me in that condition. The 
nurses were afraid to enter my ward to give me medicines or check my blood 
pressure because they thought that I was a terrorist. It frustrated me, but 
there was nothing I could do. I was in that hospital for two months and put 
on a lot of weight with the food. After two months, I was taken back to 
prison again. My friends were surprised to see my health and condition. 
Before I was released from the hospital, my doctor gave me a certificate of 
rest for six months, but as you will see, the prison did not honor this 
order.

One month later, which was a full year after being brought into the 
prison, we were taken out into the sun. The members from Amnesty 
International of Geneva visited Bhutan. To make it look like we had been 
treated humanly, the government started giving us blankets and good 
treatment. Then, after treating us well for a few days, they decided to take 
us out to work on a building project. They wanted us to build a football 
stadium for their soldiers. As we came outside, we were totally blinded. We 
cold see nothing but pure white, and our eyes began to hurt from the sun for 
so long, our skin looked yellow, like a baby’s. We were forced to stay 
outside in the sun for the entire day and the next day, our flesh was 
extremely burned and darkened. After two days, we started working to 
construct the stadium. They worked five hundred of us like slaves for more 
than six months. There were even sixty and seventy year old people in our 
group, treated without any compassion for their age. I saw some of them like 
I’d see my father, and it broke my heart when they would be beaten right in 
front of me.

After we were finished with the football stadium, we received hope that 
some of us were going to be released. A police official came with a list of 
names of those who were to be set free. Each of us was full of wonder as to 
who was going to stay and who was going to leave. We were lined up outside 
the prison in the late afternoon. The official began to call out names, 
separating us into two groups. Two hundred in our group of five hundred had 
their names read, and my name was on the list! I was overjoyed, though I did 
feel some regret for those who didn’t get their names called. We were sure 
that we would be sent home so we decided to give the few belongings we had 
to those friends whose names did not get called as they were taken back to 
prison. We were elated that we would be out of prison. Unfortunately, that 
wasn’t the true significance for the list of names. Instead of a release 
order, the two hundred of us were given an order of transfer.

THE SITUATION WORSENS

After few weeks, at least then army vehicles drove up and we were told to 
get inside the vehicles. No one told us where we were going, but we began to 
realize that we weren’t free. The prison officials had deceived us. After 
four hours of journey we reached to a place called Chemgang. One soldier 
told us that it was very cold place where we were going to spend the rest of 
our lives. In this new place, we were tortured daily, and many worse things 
were done to us that was like something out of a nightmare. I try my best to 
not remember these times, which were far worse than the first prison. We 
were bound with an iron chain around our ankles, and hooked to a twelve 
pounds weight. This was solely designed to punish political prisoners.

Our daily lives in that prison was horrid. We were forced to wake up at 
5:00 AM and then all five hundred of us had half an hour to clean up and use 
the bathroom before breakfast. There was only enough space for about twenty 
people in one large room at a time. At 5:30 AM, we were given a breakfast of 
cooked flour and chilies. It was very hot and looked like porridge. We were 
not able to digest the food and suffered with diarrhea and dysentery. It 
took quite a long time before we could adjust to it.
Right after breakfast, we had to be ready for work. Our work project was to 
build a prison three miles away from our own prison. We had to carry hammers 
that weighed three to six pounds, as well as other tools to our work site, 
and the soldiers made us run. It was difficult for each of us to run on the 
rough ground, because we were barefoot. Also, they had us bound with a 
three- pound chain, which made running even harder. But if we didn’t run, 
then we would be beaten. After only a few days of this, my legs relapsed, 
swelled up and the pain returned.

I asked one of the guards for rest until my legs improved, but he didn’t 
care at all and never gave me rest. I really struggled a lot to keep moving, 
and unable to either run or work well, the soldiers beat me frequently. Not 
believing that I was really injured, the soldiers made fun of me, calling me 
a lazy pretender. At work, they would rip my clothes from my body and make 
me dance. I was so angry that I punched in the walls after I got back to my 
cell. Revenge was constantly on my mind, as I would think ahead to what I 
would do to these soldiers after I was released. One day, my legs became 
even worse so that I was not even able to walk. The then allowed me to have 
one week away from work. During that week, the twenty of us who could not 
work were tortured. We were taken out of the room around 6:00 AM in the 
morning, taken to the mountain’s river and forced to go in. The soldiers 
make us stay in the near freezing water for twenty minutes. Then they kept 
us outside the courtyard until our clothes dried to our bodies. There was no 
good treatment for those of us who were sick. They had no grace or mercy and 
no pity for us.

That was the life in prison!

THE WORST NIGHTMARE

One exceedingly painful point in my life that I have no way of forgetting 
is when I witnessed someone being forced to beat his best friend. One day, 
the soldiers called everybody out of our cells and made us line up in the 
prison’s courtyard. We had no idea what they would do as they said they were 
going to give everyone a blessing. The soldiers selected the biggest, 
strongest guy from among us and commanded him to beat everyone else with an 
army baton. Keep in mind that he was not asked to beat strangers. All of us 
were friends and he was so worried about beating any of us. He began, but 
was very timid with his blows. The soldiers were not happy with the way he 
was doing this, and so they grabbed him and demonstrated how they wanted him 
to heat us. The soldier used all of his strength with that hit, and then 
said that he wanted that style of beating and nothing.

Our friend did not have any other option, and so he asked everyone’s 
forgiveness and began. After he beat us while, the soldiers called up one of 
our friend who would act as our representative. As the representative, 
they said, You are responsible for your people fighting against the 
government. They proceeded to instruct the one who gave us beatings to give 
this man ten more firm beatings. This man was one of his best friends, and 
he felt terrible, but knew he needed to do this. When he got to the seventh 
beating out of ten, blood flowed from his mouth and he died right there. The 
guy who was beating him was aghast. He felt powerless and was led to kill 
his own friend. None of the rest of us felt like we had any more power to 
stop this death. We saw our friend dying, but did nothing to stop this 
senseless death. There seemed to be no supernatural answer in this situation 
no matter which God we prayed to.  We saw no justice from God in these 
horrible situations.

That was the day I lost hope that I would go home safely. I was so angry 
about the abuses we experienced that my heart was filled with hatred toward 
the Bhutanese government and soldiers, as well with God for allowing it to 
happen. I came to wonder if God even existed, and if he did, I knew I wanted 
no part of him.

ANGEL OF MERCY

One day I got sick, suffering from dysentery and typhoid. I stopped eating 
because the food tasted awful to me. Not eating while I was sick made me even 
more ill and I lost a tremendous amount of weight. I received medicine from the 
doctor who visited monthly, but instead of improving, my health grew worse. One 
night, my condition became very serious and I lost my consciousness. The soldiers 
hospitalized me for the second time, as I was completely delirious.

I was given more than twenty bottles of glucose intravenously, which 
revived me. After returning to consciousness, I met a nurse practitioner, 
Grethe. She was from Norway and was so kind, treating me as her brother. She 
really cared for me. She told me that I weighed only eighty pounds when I 
was admitted and that if I had come in only one hour later, I would have 
died.  She was sure that it was God’s protection, but because I was so angry 
with him, I did not want to think that God saved my life.

I was there in the hospital for nearly one and half months and, during 
this time, I got the opportunity to write a letter to my parents, giving 
them the hope that I was nearly freed. This was just one of the ways that 
Grethe treated me so well. She saw my torn, smelly clothes that I had not 
changed for eighteen months and gave me warm clothes and slippers. She also 
gave me sweet, fresh fruit. She lavished this blessing on me without asking 
anything in return. The love and care I received form her was unexpected, 
and it was completely different than I had experienced for a long time. She 
helped my friends too by giving them warm clothes when they were in the 
hospital for treatment. She even donated her blood to our friends who were 
in need. She was like an Angel sent by God to help us. I will never forget 
the love and care that I received from Grethe.

After ten to fifteen days, I came to know that an army officer warned 
Grethe that she was not allowed to treat the political prisoners so well. I 
could no longer see her and, instead, was discharged from the hospital and 
taken back to the prison again. After a while, another of my friends was 
hospitalized and then brought back a message for me from the hospital. The 
message was from Grethe, saying that she wanted to meet me as soon as I’d be 
released.

PULLED FROM THE PIT

Many in our group were released after they were in prison for a year or 
eighteen months. I was released only after two and a half years, with a 
group of eighty others. As soon as our names were called, we were separated 
from the rest of the group. We had been deceived before and we were not sure 
at first wither it was release order or transfer order. But this time, they 
removed our chains and handcuffs. As they did, our steps suddenly felt so 
much lighter. It was almost as if we were flying. We were so happy to know 
that we were going home that we started singing songs, took baths and had 
our hair cut until we looked fresh.

The next day, we were taken to the capital town where the army officer 
came and lectured us, saying that we were banished from Bhutan. We were 
released on the 30th of March 1992. Before I left, I made a point of meeting 
Grethe again. She was so happy to see me. I shared a few things that 
happened to me as and she asked me about my future. At that point, all I 
could think about was seeing my family once again. She gave me money to get 
back home and told me to write to her as soon as I arrived. We were still 
sad for those who remained, and we will never forget those who died in that 
place.

I returned to my hometown and met my family for the first time in close to 
three years. All of them came and gave me a big hug as they cried with joy. 
I was so happy to see all of them well that I could not express it.

BAD COMPANY, BAD CHOICES AND NEW HOPE

Being in prison for this length of time, I didn’t get a chance to finish 
college. The government had come and destroyed our house and took possession 
of our property. We were in exile. I didn’t see any hope in my life to make 
my career. In many parts of the world here, it’s the eldest son’s 
responsibility to help provide for his family. As the eldest son, I felt 
like I could not live up to what was expected of me. In desperation for 
money, I formed a gang of ten guys. We would go across into Bhutan and 
robbed people at gunpoint and knifepoint. If they did not immediately 
cooperate, we would beat them. It was a risky way to live, but I was so 
frustrated with life that I didn’t care what happened to me.  Slowly, I 
began to use drugs and alcohol. Part of me must have been looking for 
relief, but I did not see any God who cared for me.
My situation got to be so desperate that in the midst of my troubles, I 
prayed a short prayer to God saying God, if you exist, and are watching 
me, please help me out of this situation. Prove me that you are God and I 
will believe in you. After four months, I received a letter from Grethe 
saying that she wanted to finance the rest of my college education in South 
India. I responded her immediately, appreciatively accepting her offer. She 
sent me the money, and I left the gangs to go to Madras on the 14th August, 
1992. She was willing to finance whatever I needed, and I realized that 
studying computers would probably give me a better future than learning auto 
mechanics.

I thought that Grethe would try to convert me one day, but I promised to 
not to convert even if I had to return all of her support. She never wrote 
to me about Jesus in her letters. Instead, she simply showed love to me. I 
was studying and enjoying my life with the money I was getting from her. I 
did so many things without her knowledge like spending her money on girls, 
friends, movies and fun. I had no problem using her money because it was 
free and I thought that, as a Westerner, she was well off. I didn’t realize 
how much she struggled to send money for my study. I was not faithful with 
what Grethe gave me.

ENCOUNTERING GOD

In the beginning of 1993, I came to know about an YWAM (Youth With A Mission)
coffeehouse in Madras. They had a music program every Saturday night where they 
served free coffee. I was not sure what their motives would have been, but the free 
music and free coffee really drew me every Saturday. Plus, there were young, 
pretty girl who served coffee, and I really enjoyed it. Slowly, I realized 
their motives. They just wanted to share the gospel and convert as many as 
possible. So, I decided to leave the coffeehouse as soon as they finished 
playing the last song each night. But one day, one of the guys there asked 
for my address and I gave it to him. Three days later, a few coffeehouse 
guys visited my home, and continued every Tuesday. In the beginning, they 
were just trying to build friendship with me, and my housemates. After a few 
weeks of this, I began to be tired of this, and made a point of leaving the 
house on Tuesdays.

I made sure I was out of the house when they came, until one Tuesday when 
I got sick. These guys came and visited me, praying for me and encouraging 
me a lot. After their visit, I felt better and my sickness left me. From 
then on, whenever they came to our house, I would argue with them about 
Christianity. I raised a lot of questions, but they really could not satisfy 
me. We met many times, though, and we got to know each other well. In the 
beginning of 1994, one guy from the coffeehouse, Chuck Eddy, came and took 
me on the terrace of our house for prayer.  He asked me if I’d want to 
accept Christ in my life. I was surprised when the word YES came out of my 
mouth without my control and he began to pray for me. Part of his prayer was 
in a funny language that made me want to laugh. Looking back, I understand 
that he was praying in tongues. As he prayed, the Holy Spirit touched me and 
I began to fell really warm. When he finished, I was overwhelmed by how much 
power and glory God has.

I started thinking about my life, where I was and what I was doing. 
These are the thoughts that came to my mind. That night, I could not stop 
thinking about whether I made the right decision or whether I acted too 
hastily. I was not able to sleep. As I was lying awake, God put a picture of 
his love in my mind. He showed me things of my past, and how he had stuck by 
me in the middle of the horrors in Bhutan. He took me through the situation 
in Bhutan and spared my life, and gave me new opportunities through Grethe. 
God showed everything to me like a video screen into my mind. I hadn’t 
realized any of this before, but he showed it to me so clearly that I could 
not deny his presence. When I realized that God was so good to me, I fell on 
my knees and started weeping. God brought total conviction into my life that 
night. And I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior.
Early the next morning, I got up and went to YWAM’s office, met Chuck and 
told him what had happened that night. As he heard this, he became so happy. 
I told him that I want to be baptized, but he refused. He wanted me to be 
sure before I made this choice, so he gave me a Bible and invited me for his 
bible study. I really enjoyed the study and learned many things about God 
and his love for people. So many differences between Buddhism and 
Christianity occurred to me as I thought about these two ways of thinking. I 
found so much truth in Christianity. I was convinced that I wanted to be 
baptized and Chuck baptized me on the 2nd of October 1994. That was the most 
major turning point in my life. I joined an YWAM discipleship training 
school in 1995, which helped me a lot to experience God Personally.

GOD IN MY LIFE

After I came to know Jesus in 1994, I gave up my bad habits. It was not an 
immediate achievement but more I yielded to God, the more he renewed my mind, 
heart and thoughts. It became easier to control my bad habits, until I did not 
struggle with them at all. Something that took me a long time to work on was the 
hatred and anger that I held towards the government and soldiers of Bhutan. It 
took more than three years to completely forgiven, and was something that God 
worked through with me both in YWAM, and in the Vineyard.  It became so much 
easier to live after I was able to release the bitterness I felt. God started 
bringing inner healing to my soul, spirit, mind and emotions.

In my relationship with God, I have found so much freedom-even more 
freedom than I felt after being released from prison. He is a God who longs 
to give life, and life abundant.

Raju Tamang