On the afternoon of 28 May, a massive glacier avalanche destroyed the idyllic village of Blatten in the Valais region of Switzerland. Footage of the disaster rapidly circulated around the world, sparking renewed conversation about the increasing instability of the mountain cryosphere and climate-related risks. The population of nearly 300 people had been evacuated a week prior due to concerns that unstable slopes above the glacier could trigger a catastrophic event. This is remarkable, and a testament to the value of hazard monitoring and anticipatory action. Shocked by the intensity of avalanche impacts and devastating loss, people struggled to comprehend the alternative: what if the village had been full? In Nepal, the people of the Langtang Valley, survivors of a massive glacier avalanche that killed over 300 people in April 2015, know exactly what it feels like for an entire village to be <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/may/17/nepal-earthquake-langtang-village-everyone-was-dead">‘wiped off the map’</a> in a little more than a minute. The avalanche that buried the village of Langtang was similarly catastrophic, as the avalanche fell over 3,000m and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/19/world/asia/nepal-avalanche-langtang.html">carried nearly as much force as the Hiroshima atomic bomb</a>. Unfortunately, the people of Langtang had no warning. While these two disasters are quite different, there are some important connections between them. As the world contemplates the threat of increasing climate-related glacier hazards and wonders if and how Blatten will rebuild, I would like to draw attention to the ever-present risk of similar disasters in the Himalayas, where the scale of the problem is (arguably) larger and resources are (inarguably) more limited. As events like these become increasingly common, we need to build monitoring and <a href="https://www.undrr.org/implementing-sendai-framework/sendai-framework-action/early-warnings-for-all">early warning systems for all</a> at-risk communities. We also need more comparative analysis of the ways mountain people make sense of climate-related risks, particularly around wicked questions like hazard zoning and resettlement or relocation. How do institutions determine where to invest in hazard monitoring and early warning systems? Who gets to decide where people can rebuild, what kind of risks are ‘acceptable’, or whose uncertainties matter? As a survivor of the Langtang disaster and an applied anthropologist, this is not a thought exercise for me. I spent more than two years working with the Langtangpa community as a volunteer, and the last ten years conducting research focused on the aftermath of the Langtang avalanche and the ways people cope with disaster and climate risk in the Himalayan region. Since late 2022, I have been <a href="https://www.stimson.org/project/early-warning-systems-for-cascading-disasters-in-nepal/">working with the Stimson Center </a>to consider how we might build systems to assess and monitor the changing risks of cascading hazards in the Himalayan region. As the Swiss and a range of international organizations consider how they might provide warning for other Alpine villages living beneath glaciers, we need to expand the conversation to consider the many Himalayan villages that are similarly at-risk. The question of climate causality currently haunts the Blatten disaster -- just as it has for other similar events in recent years, including the Langtang avalanche. While attribution is incredibly complicated, many scientists have already highlighted the ways that melting permafrost and loss of seasonal snowcover and glacial mass created instability in the overall system above the Birch Glacier on Kleines Nesthorn. Not all glaciers are receding. In Blatten, recurring slope failures had also been piling debris on the glacier slowly over the years, pushing the ‘glacier tongue’ forward and weakening its integrity – and this acceleration attracted attention and focused monitoring. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7334623807573278721/">A recent post from Christian Huggel, a leading cryosphere scientist based at University of Zurich</a> examined these details and clearly stated: “Considering all these processes it would be absurd, ignorant or dishonest to state that anthropogenic warming has not played any role in the ice-rock avalanche disaster in <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/search/results/all/?keywords=%23blatten&amp;origin=HASH_TAG_FROM_FEED">Blatten</a>. Interestingly, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2025/jun/01/this-is-ground-zero-for-blatten-the-tiny-swiss-village-engulfed-by-a-mountain">other scientists have indicated that “exact attribution is almost beside the point.”</a> Tellingly, it took almost ten years for formal scientific recognition (see <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43247-024-01624-z">this Nature paper published in 2024</a>) in part because it was seismically triggered, overshadowing the climate-related signal.That said, many Langtangpa highlighted these connections immediately after the disaster, as many are doing in Blatten right now. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-courage-and-endurance-of-the-langtangpa">My friends in Langtang have spent the last ten years rebuilding their lives</a> while wondering if another event of this magnitude might be possible.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250607140612_5ccfd4786416a151e1c2d44f79add3c196da34e1c30af9188de10982b45d72f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250607140612_5ccfd4786416a151e1c2d44f79add3c196da34e1c30af9188de10982b45d72f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="Blatten NT"> <figcaption>Copernicus statellite image of the avalanche that buried the village Blatten in Switzerland on 28 May, 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250607140616_306112d2eb5330d0a5117bae3fc372861afce5137b52f793285e6b1cf89ca31a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250607140616_306112d2eb5330d0a5117bae3fc372861afce5137b52f793285e6b1cf89ca31a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1733" height="1053" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang NT"> <figcaption>The deadly earthquake-triggered avalance that destroyed Langtang village in Nepal on 25 April, 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  Like the people of the Swiss Alps, the Langtangpa have been living with avalanches for centuries, and they have used both situated knowledge and practical systems to adapt to changing risks. But, in Langtang as in Blatten, the scale and impact of this singular tragedy was both unprecedented and unforeseen. Tellingly, Langtang was not a scientific hinterland: groups from a dozen different countries were conducting glaciological, hydrological, and climatological research there prior to the disaster. Blatten is a case where the scientists knew where to look. But even in relatively well-studied places like Langtang, disasters can emerge in our blind spots.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">Last year’s Thame glacial lake outburst flood</a> (GLOF) also began in an overlooked and understudied area – <a href="https://www.stimson.org/2024/rethinking-himalayan-cryosphere-risk-assessment-in-the-wake-of-nepals-thame-disaster/">prompting scientists to rethink the ways we assess glacial lakes</a>. Issues related to <a href="https://www.icimod.org/mountain/permafrost/">melting permafrost</a>, which seems to have been a factor for both the Blatten disaster and <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/posts/tashi-lhazom-5a433b22b_rebuildtil-limifloodrelief-fromtearstohope-activity-7332420946013691904-N0sH?utm_source=share&amp;utm_medium=member_desktop&amp;rcm=ACoAAADxlvsBK3zQKg0X2xPLPS94HyMEettoSU4">the cascading ‘thermokarst lake outburst flood’ that recently occurred in the Limi Valley</a>, are increasingly recognised as a pervasive risk but it is difficult to monitor and the science is young. A multitude of different cryosphere-related disasters are possible across the Himalaya, and background risk is increasing. How do we triage between these different kinds of hazards? How do we know where to look? While it might not have been possible to monitor the glaciers and cryosphere features that contributed to the Langtang disaster, we need to be actively looking for other places where monitoring systems and early warning is possible in Nepal and the broader Himalayan region. Of course, we do need to be precise in our analysis and communication around climate attribution, but consensus does exist on some general trends: climate change is driving new hazard interactions that can generate extreme flows. Therefore, we also need to recognise the undeniable: that background risk is undeniably rising, that lives are at risk, and that we need to invest in building systems that can help anticipate events like Blatten (which takes time, time that others don’t have) immediately. The fact that Langtang has been fully rebuilt and community leaders were effective in determining the shape of their own future and ‘building back better’ their way (as complicated as that may be), demonstrates that a future can be possible, amid uncertainty. But the future of many other communities in the Himalaya, who should never have to go through what the Langtangpa went through if we can avoid it, still remains at-risk without more scientific attention and investment. Meanwhile, the monsoon is arriving in Nepal and another disaster could happen any day now. Coverage of the Blatten disaster has been rightfully robust. Praise for the scientists and authorities who identified these risks and correctly analyzed the situation is also deserved, for that is difficult work. A wider call to learn from this event and use insights to inform policy on climate risk assessment or questions of managed retreat is also exceedingly necessary and urgent. As many scientists are saying: events like this will happen again. This is a scary time in the mountains, in the Alps, in the Himalaya, and many other regions. That said, not all places are equally exposed or vulnerable. To reiterate a core question that I have been asking for years: <a href="https://dialogue.earth/en/climate/opinion-climate-disasters-integrate-local-knowledge/">Whose uncertainties matter</a>? When and why? We know that climate-related loss and damage will not be equally or equitably distributed, and that is one of the core reasons for the UN’s Early Warnings for All program. Blatten is being talked about this week <a href="https://globalplatform.undrr.org/2025/preparatory-days/global-ew4all-multi-stakeholder-forum">while the Global Platform for Disaster Risk Reduction is going in Geneva</a>, from where some of my Nepali colleagues posted photos of them posing with a sign that speaks to the justice issue: ‘Early warnings work. They must work for everyone.” Working toward this noble goal will require a concerted and committed global effort. -- Austin Lord, PhD is a Senior Fellow at the Stimson Center and an environmental anthropologist who has been conducting research in Nepal for the past 13 years on disaster and climate risk management, water and energy policy, infrastructure development, and environmental governance.

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Here & Now

Blatten, Langtang, and Disasters Yet to Come?

Even as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Mt Everest </a>Day was marked in Nepal on 29 May, on the other side of the planet in the US state of Colorado, dozens of Nepalis who have<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/everest-summiteers-find-new-life-in-the-us"> climbed the world’s highest peak </a>multiple times were busy working as chefs and Uber drivers. Danuru Sherpa’s father was part of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/everest-70-years-on?fbclid=IwAR34nxhAOehTjLeeuqKY391r1CVxCy1fustpbQbSP1T5WMqQq102tJ1e3Ho">1953 expedition</a> to Mt Everest that put <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/commemorating-edmund-hillary-in-nepal,4145">Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay </a>on the summit. He later climbed Kangchenjunga, Ama Dablam and Annapurna with Hillary’s son, Peter. Danuru grew up in this climbing family in Phortse with seven other siblings, and as a teenager became a high altitude porter and guide.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100648_8c3f79c19f9a83b24e8193709c41dbcc7825ed1c8d89b10947effe65e880d5b1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250605100648_8c3f79c19f9a83b24e8193709c41dbcc7825ed1c8d89b10947effe65e880d5b1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1054" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpaland, Co. USA NT"><figcaption>ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH: Danuru Sherpa, 46, was only 18 when he climbed Mt Everest for the first time in 1998. Since then he has summitted 16 times.</figcaption></figure>  He was only 18 when he climbed Everest for the first time in 1998. Since then he has sumitted 16 times. In 2006 Spring, he got to the top twice in the same season. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/without-sherpas-there-is-no-mountaineering">Mountaineering</a> made me famous, but it was seasonal work. It did not bring enough money to support my family,” says Danuru, 46, who has two daughters and a son. He came to the US in 2013, and is now a chef at Sherpa House in Boulder. But <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/why-we-climb-mountains">climbing is a passion</a>, and on the side he has climbed Mt Denali in Alaska, and guides climbing groups in the Rockies. He says, “I want to do<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Overflying,288"> Everest again</a> till I am 60, but Nepal should take better care of mountaineers like us. Climbing is dangerous and the insurance is not enough.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100648_26b4f6883ce3362c6f0c312d35422a57384c04aeb673f578d3ddb660761747fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250605100648_26b4f6883ce3362c6f0c312d35422a57384c04aeb673f578d3ddb660761747fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpaland, Co. USA NT"><figcaption>Danuru's brother Panuru Sherpa on the top of Mt Everest in 2002 with a client. He has also climbed the world's highest mountain 16 times.</figcaption></figure>  Danuru’s elder brother Panuru also climbed Everest for the first time in 1993, and in 2021 made his 16th summit. He has since emigrated to America, guiding climbers in Alaska, and goes on skiing expeditions in his free time. He also works at Sherpa House. There are 100 Sherpas in Colorado, and 25 of them are multiple Everest summiteers. There are 27 just from Phortse in the state, and six have climbed Everest 34 times between them. Tashi Sherpa has climbed Everest 17 times, and is a Uber driver in Denver. On the side, he trains climbers in Colorado’s mountains. Jangbu Sherpa is also a 10-time Everest summiteer who works as a chef at Everest House.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100652_cf775e235a4068330d35f304b255f5874c852a045b913784f327dc924f03334a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250605100652_cf775e235a4068330d35f304b255f5874c852a045b913784f327dc924f03334a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1759" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpaland, Co. USA NT"><figcaption>Both brothers work as chefs at Sherpa House Colorado in the town of Golden.</figcaption></figure>  Also in Colorado is Pasang Lhamu Sherpa Akita, the first Nepali woman to become a UIAA certified mountaineering instructor, and one of the first Nepali women to reach the summit of K2. Nima Doma Sherpa trained herself to be a mountaineer and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/everest-summiteers-find-new-life-in-the-us"> climbed Everest in memory of her husband</a> who was killed in the Khumbu Icefall avalanche in 2014. “One of the reasons Sherpas are emigrating is because there is no support mechanism for families whose members are killed in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragic-start-to-himalayan-spring-nepal,3695">mountaineering accidents</a>,” says Nima Doma. “When a soldier dies, the state declares him a martyr and provides compensation, and pension to his family. When a support climber dies, his family is forgotten.” <h2>The House of Sherpa</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025060511064_6c6587ac90936e30737bf724d1a1941b969a7d97ce1e6d653d7e49f66cc1248c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2025060511064_6c6587ac90936e30737bf724d1a1941b969a7d97ce1e6d653d7e49f66cc1248c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1002" loading="lazy" alt="The House of Sherpa NT"></figure>  Lhakpa Sherpa was born 50 years ago in the tiny village of Syangma. As a boy he remembers going to Namche Bazar, making a perilous crossing of the foaming Dudh Kosi. Namche was like a city compared to Syangma. He lived with his parents and two other siblings who had to walk the roundtrip of six hours six days a week to school. There was a wooden log over huge boulders on which they balanced themselves precariously to cross the river. When floods washed away the log, they couldn’t go to school for weeks. During summer holidays, Lhakpa and his siblings joined their parents to take yaks to high pasture. The family cooked and ate potatoes and buckwheat they planted on their terraced farm. Lhakpa became the first boy in Syangma to graduate from high school, and then went to college in Kathmandu, working in restaurants and guiding trekking groups to earn money. Tourism was booming in Nepal in the 1990s, and he dropped out of college to guide groups. Lhakpa had watched planes landing in Syangboche and Lukla, and had always wanted to be a pilot. He went to the United States and joined flying school, while running his company, Sherpa Landscaping. The business took off, and there was no time anymore to complete pilot training. Winters were less busy, so in 2009 he decided to open a restaurant in Golden, near Denver. Not just any restaurant, but one that represented Nepal and his Sherpa culture. He visited Nepal every year and brought back traditional items to decorate his Sherpa House Restaurant and Culture Centre.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025060511068_e0b00341968e548b76e53567e0cd7b727bd816f5586496b765ba53b0e3fd1144.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025060511068_e0b00341968e548b76e53567e0cd7b727bd816f5586496b765ba53b0e3fd1144" data-rendition-name="original" width="1460" height="1666" loading="lazy" alt="The House of Sherpa NT"></figure>  It became an instant hit, even more successful than his landscape company. What was supposed to be a side gig quickly became his main business. At an intersection in picturesque Golden, with the Rockies forming a backdrop to the west, Sherpa House is immediately recognisable from afar. On one side is a monastery, a gift shop at the other, and the restaurant in the middle. The interior décor of intricately carved displays also has an antique shortwave radio and old tape recorder, giving the space a feeling of 1980s Khumbu. The restaurant has 600 customers every day and the queue gets long in the evenings. Most diners are Americans, with a sprinkling of people of Nepali or Indian origin. The chefs and two dozen restaurant workers are constantly busy on the momo assembly line. In 2013, Lhakpa and partners opened the Sherpa Brewery in Chitwan, and the beer imported from Nepal is popular here. “Business is not just about profit,” says Lhakpa. “It is also a service, that is why maybe a restaurant is called a service industry.” With a part of the profits from the venture Lhakpa has started the charity Hike for Help that has helped rebuild his old school in Khumbu that was damaged in the earthquake, added a dorm and built health posts. He has upgraded the trail from Syangma to Namche where he used to walk back and forth as a boy. There is now a suspension bridge where there used to be a log across the boulders of the Dudh Kosi. Says Lhakpa: “I don’t calculate what percentage of the profit should go to charity. I give when it is needed, as much as needed.” <h2>Dreaming big in America</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100656_cf82b53399685be51021b1ca6e5d960a8f6adf67679ec78b1750648393542786.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250605100656_cf82b53399685be51021b1ca6e5d960a8f6adf67679ec78b1750648393542786" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big in America NT"></figure>  When Pemba Sherpa flew out of Kathmandu airport in 1999, he was 19. He had $200 cash in his pocket, a suitcase, a sleeping bag, and a dream. An American dream. Born in 1971 in Syangma of Khumbu in a family with five siblings, he watched planes take off and land at Lukla airfield on the other side of the river, while grazing the family’s 25 yaks. Every day he walked three hours to Chaurikharka to school, and three hours back. He dropped out at Grade 4 and started portering. His first job paid him Rs60 hauling a load of 30kg on his back up the trail — the first time he saw money. On his first visit to Kathmandu, he was amazed by the tall buildings, the crowds and cars. He guided trekkers, and learnt a smattering of English. One of his trekking clients was an American, who sponsored his first trip to the US. Adjusting to life and surviving in America was initially as difficult as hauling trekking gear to Everest Base Camp. He washed cars, worked as a gardener, and did dishes. He did not know anyone in Colorado, was often homesick, and drooled remembering his mother’s cooking. This was not the dream he had about America, and he thought of heading back to Nepal. But he hardened his resolve, joined English language classes, memorised words all night, sticking them to the walls of his room. He got himself a college degree, and was hired by a Colorado-based trekking company. He struck out on his own to set up a travel company, taking American clients to Nepal, Tanzania, Bhutan, Pakistan and other places on treks. “I remember there was one Thai International flight from Bangkok to Kathmandu in which 90% of the passengers were my clients,” recalls Pemba. But then the Maoist conflict killed Nepal’s tourism industry, the Kathmandu office closed and many lost their jobs. The collapse of tourism opened up other avenues for Pemba, who then invested in real estate just at the right time to make millions. He now has 12 properties in Boulder alone, including one that houses his Sherpa Adventure and Restaurant that employs 40 fellow-Nepalis. He got himself a commercial pilot’s license in 2009. But his dream of starting an airline in Nepal was thwarted by unstable politics back home. He bought himself a 4-seater Piper Arrow and flies around the United States in it. The success of Starbucks inspired him to make a foray into, not coffee, but tea. He studied the market and launched the Sherpa Chai brand. It took off, and its seven flavours sell in 3,000 stores across the US. It had a $2.7 million turnover last year, and Pemba is aiming to hit $50 million.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100656_9d00aa28b2a7e9e6631fca57134534059d23a7d2531f269a01885302886e16a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250605100656_9d00aa28b2a7e9e6631fca57134534059d23a7d2531f269a01885302886e16a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1484" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big in America NT"></figure>  The company imports $30,000 worth of Nepali tea every month from gardens in Phidim, though it is more expensive than other teas. But wherever he flies, Pemba’s heart is still in Syangmo. He has helped build suspension bridges, upgrade trekking trails, repair schools after the 2015 earthquake, and even set up a small hydroelectric plant to light up Syangmo at night. His memoir Bridging Worlds: A Sherpa’s Story has won awards. Pemba Sherpa has not given up on Nepal, and says his life is proof that no matter where a person is born, success is not possible without struggle and hard work. He adds, “Nepal has huge potential, we just have to improve governance and rise above our obsessions with ethnicity and caste.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025060511060_39ad7e520066ce50f79650c32e12164c82888696212b2cc60684d0176513c79e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025060511060_39ad7e520066ce50f79650c32e12164c82888696212b2cc60684d0176513c79e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big in America NT"></figure>

Sherpaland, CO, USA

This is the 68th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father died before I was two, and I do not have any memory of him. In fact, I do not even have a picture with him. There were some faded photographs of him, but they were lost in the earthquake. From what I know, he was a mason and was bed-ridden after a work accident. So it has always been my mother. I cannot speak about her without getting emotional. She raised us five boys as a single mother. Despite our economic condition, she did not let us feel deprived of anything.&nbsp; All the neighbourhood children went to school except me, so I demanded my mother send me to school as well. I doubt that my mother even knew that it was important for children to have &nbsp;schooling.&nbsp; It was only after starting school that I realised that it was not a whole lot of fun. Somehow I did manage to study till Grade 12, but it was music that I was obsessed with. As Newars, we have many festivals that involve music.&nbsp; I played instruments during our festivals, and had a knack for picking up techniques just from watching the elders play. My passion for music overtook interests like sports and dance. As I grew older, I listened to music of all genres.&nbsp; We could not afford formal music classes, so I had to learn by watching others play. My friends and I started playing together and formed a band. We organised cultural programs and concerts. Our first metal bands were called Aspirin and Jadecula, names that my friend gave, but I do not think they mean anything. Since then, I have been part of many bands but what we earned was barely enough to cover taxi fares and maintain instruments.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605110628_efc75f0da5b9c44ce2b4f1ba864dbfb8d0a36c11eb588d9d8eb7461fb6695f45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250605110628_efc75f0da5b9c44ce2b4f1ba864dbfb8d0a36c11eb588d9d8eb7461fb6695f45" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="480" loading="lazy" alt="Song of work and freedom NT"> <figcaption>Ashik dropped out of school, taught himself music, and posed with friends before leaving Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Many of my former band members are arrangers, vocalists, and instructors, but others left because a career in music was not worthwhile. Perhaps that is the story of many Nepalis who have to set aside their passion and talent to support their families. Passion for anything usually weakens as we get older. But not for me, my interest in music only grew. When the pandemic hit, life got very difficult. As a musician I was a free bird doing frequent gigs, but I felt suffocated and caged during the lockdown. It got intolerable, so I decided to go overseas, to Dubai.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yjoyzoU_jwQ?si=gwTIiUHK1mCxbYAp" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> My plan was to take up a regular job and continue music on the side. I took my guitar with me, which was not a common sight on planes flying from Kathmandu to the Gulf. I remember stowing it in the overhead bin above my seat to ensure it was safe. A day or two after arriving I went to Kalba Beach in Fujairah, and was so excited to see the sea that I ran to the waves fully dressed. That happiness did not last because I realised that the recruiter in Nepal had screwed me over. There was no job waiting for me in Dubai as promised.&nbsp; I used up the money I had taken with me paying rent and buying food. It got so difficult that I could not even afford to eat. I ate khaboosh and missed Nepali dal bhat. I would think about my mother and pine for home. In our family in Nepal we could not even eat rice and my mother used to prepare dhindo. She had a soft spot for her youngest and managed to give me some rice, and that caused fights among us siblings. How did my mother manage, I wondered as I struggled out there in the UAE.&nbsp; Even now, she has never asked me for a single paisa, which surprises me. In her eyes, as the youngest son, I am still a kid. As you grow up, you think of your childhood memories that you took for granted. And when caught in difficult situations, those moments sting you even harder.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605110628_1a46c780db290e848f57dbe51cb701981b4032d8075da969f6ea04b9d7fdacaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250605110628_1a46c780db290e848f57dbe51cb701981b4032d8075da969f6ea04b9d7fdacaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="853" loading="lazy" alt="Song of work and freedom NT"> </figure>  I did not tell my mother about how hard it was in the UAE, I did not want her to worry. I only told a few friends, and they offered help.&nbsp; I help others, but it is not in my nature to ask for help for myself. Maybe it is from fear of rejection, which I would not be able to handle. I am used to keeping my troubles to myself.&nbsp; I continued to practice singing despite the trouble I was in, but was not able to create new music because my mental state did not allow space for creativity. I decided not to come home because I had resolved to make something of myself before returning.&nbsp; As luck would have it, I was walking past a café in Dubai one day when I heard some music inside. I asked the Bangladeshi security guard about the live music and managed to get the number of the owner. The sound technician had quit, so I was hired for live performances.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2babCF13IDk?si=J7V5HVmJpgbcb1Zy" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> After a year, I got poached by a Nepali customer who came to the café who had started a club in Dubai. I get to sing there in Nepali for Nepalis, and give them a respite from a hard day at work. The songs remind the workers of home, and some are in tears when I sing songs like यो मन त मेरो नेपाली हो.&nbsp; I came to Nepal recently to participate in the Mero Voice Universe competition. It is more stressful auditioning than performing in regular concerts, where a few small mistakes will not matter so much. In an audition the judges only give you one shot at it. Even so, platforms like this help struggling artists like me gain more exposure and reach a bigger audience.&nbsp; I have come a long way from the Rs650 I earned after my first gig in Kathmandu where I sang Teri Diwani by Kailash Kher, which I still perform today.&nbsp; But I need to do a lot more in my life.

Song of work and freedom

Asma BK has been running all her life: she ran away from her home in Rolpa at age 13, became a child worker in a brick kiln in Kathmandu, ran from job to job. Rescued by a child shelter, she now runs marathons. On 27 April, Asma finished the <a href="https://www.londonmarathonevents.co.uk/london-marathon" target="_blank">London Marathon</a> in 3 hours and 27 minutes and was in the top 15% of 56,640 runners. She was representing Nepal and the organisation that helped transform her life, <a href="https://childrescuenepal.org/" target="_blank">Child Rescue Nepal (CRN)</a>. “This was my first time outside Nepal, and I was nervous because I had not run in a race with so many participants,” Asma told us after returning to Kathmandu. “Everyone was so much taller than me.”&nbsp; Today at 22, Asma is already a high-level trail runner. In 2022, she completed the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/trailrunnepal/p/Cns_UDUsfu8/" target="_blank">Manjushree Trail Race</a>, a 100-mile tack around the rim of the Kathmandu Valley, in 39 hours and 51 minutes: the fastest time for a female and fifth fastest overall.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605120652_4a9c988cd19a270e49914ef867dff3d3b27a4a61f2aca6f9941463153bc0ccb3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250605120652_4a9c988cd19a270e49914ef867dff3d3b27a4a61f2aca6f9941463153bc0ccb3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Asma BK hits the ground running"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605120652_d0b6a7d47da5f63ab1adf388cbc36a3a06666327edb8432754871e7c0eea34d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250605120652_d0b6a7d47da5f63ab1adf388cbc36a3a06666327edb8432754871e7c0eea34d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="4032" loading="lazy" alt="Asma BK hits the ground running"> </figure>  Asma was born in the remote mountains of Rolpa, and lost her mother when she was 10. Her father was away. At 13, she and a friend decided to run away from home. Like many Dalit families from Rolpa, she found work in a brick kiln on the outskirts of Kathmandu. “It was very difficult, we worked from five in the morning till seven in the evening,” Asma recalls. A 2021 survey showed that there were nearly 35,000 children between the ages of 5-17 working in brick kilns. The numbers of child workers on farms, in eateries or as domestic workers has never been counted. After two weeks of dusty work carrying bricks, Asma knew she had to get out. Her older sister found her a job in a guesthouse near the bus park in Gongabu. But the work was hardly easier. “The owner of the guesthouse would shout at me all the time, and it was very distressing,” Asma says. But she found a way to cope. One of her duties was to help the employer’s &nbsp;children with their homework, and Asma taught herself to read and write. The guesthouses around Gongabu bus park are notorious for being a hotbed for child trafficking. Shakti Samuha, a group established and run by human trafficking survivors since 1996, identified Asma as being at high risk of being sold to sexual slavery and rescued her. Asma was taken to a shelter run by the Esther Benjamin Memorial Foundation, where she studied and completed a vocational training program. The classes opened up a whole new world for her. “I didn't even have the confidence to speak up and write my own name, but soon I could converse in English with different people,” Asma says.&nbsp; In 2022, the renowned Nepali ultra-marathoner Mira Rai was holding trail running programs for girls who rescued girls. Like Mira, as a child Asma was used to running up and down mountains back home in Rolpa and she discovered that she had remarkable endurance and stamina. “Running came easy for me,” she told us. “As a child, when I ran my head cleared up and I would not think of my mother.” Asma trained for the race for four months, largely on her own. Having escaped her previous circumstances was a huge driving force, and not something she took for granted.&nbsp; “I had to put up with a lot of pain, and I felt that I have to keep working hard so that I do better in life,” she says.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605120652_9e00f995e6ce9c2254ca79b7e217e2e05b6d9aa92d2006ccb85b6d0d8af9f72a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250605120652_9e00f995e6ce9c2254ca79b7e217e2e05b6d9aa92d2006ccb85b6d0d8af9f72a" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="2666" loading="lazy" alt="Asma BK hits the ground running"> </figure>  In London, Asma found herself running against athletes dressed up as refrigerators and washing machines. She expected to finish in under three hours, but says it was a hot day and the sun was very strong.&nbsp; Bhaskar Karki of CRN says the London race gave Asma new exposure and confidence. “I've found her more determined than ever to continue running and to represent Nepal on the global stage.” Asma has moved out of her shelter, and joined the Armed Police Force team to train at the Lagankhel track. Future plans? Asma says: “I hope to run in big international trail races and one day coach children in circumstances similar to mine.”

Vishad Raj Onta

Asma BK hits the ground running

With forests covering 43% of the country’s territory, Nepal’s dry season from February to June sees multiple <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/wildfire-season-starts-early-in-nepal">wildfire emergencies</a> that consume human lives, destroy ecosystems, displace wildlife, and wipe out homes and crops. To be sure, not all wildfires are to be feared. They are a regular natural phenomenon on every continent of the world except Antarctica. They can even help regenerate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/importance-of-ecosystems-for-people-and-the-planet">ecosystems</a>. What we see today, however, is more humans living closer to forests than in the past and increasing the chance that a fire might break out through negligence, accidents and land clearance.&nbsp; There is also more potential fuel on forest floors – dead wood and undergrowth, caused by more protracted and frequent heatwaves and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-suffers-another-winter-drought"> droughts that dry out forests</a>.&nbsp; Together, it makes for a deadly combination. Indeed, in the dry season, the forests of Nepal are covered in thick carpets of dry leaves and branches ready to turn into tinderboxes. A single mishap can ignite a catastrophe.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601040652_ebc8639ab5d79a0b5746f23f313d41dd58b7dbbc9bdd78ba63a395ed89209b02.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250601040652_ebc8639ab5d79a0b5746f23f313d41dd58b7dbbc9bdd78ba63a395ed89209b02" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire NT"> <figcaption>Photo: BIJAYABAR PRADHAN</figcaption> </figure>  Putting out wildfires once they break out is costly and time-consuming. A far more effective solution is prevention, which can even offer added financial benefits. In the municipality of Binayi Triveni, Nawalpur district, in the southwest of the country, a remarkable group of 20 local women has been showing what innovation and tenacity can achieve. They saw an opportunity in mobilising and collecting the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-ultra-marathoner-s-anti-litter-drive">forest litter</a>, which consists of fallen leaves, bark, and sticks, all in accordance with technical guidance and monitoring to ensure no harm to the ecosystem. The collected materials are in turn transformed into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/biodynamic-agripreneurs">organic compost</a>. This business currently produces 60,000 kilograms of nutrient-rich bio-fertiliser each year and employs 400 people from the community. Local farmers using this natural fertiliser report more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-price-of-rice">productive harvests</a>, and government-run nurseries buy the compost to support reforestation projects. The initiative also contributed to a 70 percent reduction in the municipality’s forest fires last year.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601040656_24667ad750cd9fc387ba0088f22d210029e509cfdc3c984bdd17e2c6224b458c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250601040656_24667ad750cd9fc387ba0088f22d210029e509cfdc3c984bdd17e2c6224b458c" data-rendition-name="original" width="827" height="497" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire NT"> </figure>  As the Binayi Community Forest User Group, the women do not simply demonstrate their desire to upskill and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/women-conserve-men-still-conservative">connect to the forest landscape</a>. They have gained financial independence and elevated their status within their homes and communities. They are now decision-makers, entrepreneurs, and role models. Far from just an isolated success story, this is a solution that addresses multiple<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/combining-ipcc-targets-with-sdgs?amp=1"> urgent global challenges</a>: climate change, wildfire, soil degradation, food insecurity and gender inequality. Next week on 5 June is World Environment Day, and with only five years to go to achieve the 2030 Global Development Goals and global climate targets, it is imperative that the potential of local communities be harnessed to help solve global challenges.&nbsp; Grassroots operations are often the first to identify and address pressing local issues, develop context-specific solutions, and foster <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/life-and-livelihood-in-remote-nepal">community engagement and education</a>. Policies and strategies must be put in place to engage local communities and encourage and enable them to be creative.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601040652_a2adb533a6480c8e7494fa0aabb2c778c02d80a4f598e2ceb119f16e70823d5f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250601040652_a2adb533a6480c8e7494fa0aabb2c778c02d80a4f598e2ceb119f16e70823d5f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire NT"> <figcaption> </figcaption> </figure>  And when effective solutions emerge, like the example in Binayi Triveni, they should be celebrated, rapidly replicated and scaled up. It means mustering financial, technical, and political support to support such transformative ideas and approaches that local communities, which can belong to some of the world’s poorest groups, bring to the table. The Forest and Farm Facility – a partnership between the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), the International Institute for Environment and Development, the International Union for Conservation of Nature and AgriCord – and its Nepali partner FECOFUN assisted the women of the Biyani Community Forest User Group in developing a business plan, conducting market analysis, and receiving funding to scale up operations. An additional 50% subsidy from the local government helped them purchase machinery and improve infrastructure. Today, groups from nearby regions are visiting Binayi Triveni to learn about its achievement so that the initiative and plans can be replicated in more than 40 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">community forests </a>next year. And governments, community organisations and international organisations like ours must work together to share the best emerging practices and adapt them to different settings so that the benefits can reach beyond one district, one region and one country. Binayi Triveni is a shining example of what action is possible<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-who-stay"> in the age of climate change</a>. By supporting and scaling up such community-driven models, governments and development partners can combat natural disasters and simultaneously foster a new, sustainable kind of economic growth. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ken Shimizu is Country Representative for Nepal of the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) of the United Nations.

Community reduces wildfire risk, increases wellbeing

Nearly 30 years ago, three wild bull elephants, Raja Gaj, Kancha, and Thula Hatti, roamed boldly through the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/shrinking-tourism-s-ecological-footprint">dense forests and grassy plains of Bardia</a> and Suklaphanta in western Nepal. With their towering height and massive build, bull elephants have evolution on their side, traits that not only command attention but also boost their chances in the race to reproduce.&nbsp; What truly set these Nepalese bull elephants apart from other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/set-the-elephants-free">Asian elephants</a>, however, were their distinctive head domes and exceptionally powerful build. Raja Gaj, standing at an impressive 3.5m tall, was among the largest Asian bull elephants ever recorded. Their massive body size and unusually high head domes caught the attention of elephant enthusiasts across the globe and sparked speculation: could these bulls be the last living links to the extinct elephant-like species: the Mammoth or the Stegodon? In 1995, that curiosity turned into a quest. A team led by John Blashford-Snell of The Scientific Exploration Society in the UK, alongside the world-renowned paleontologist Adrian Lister, an expert on extinct proboscideans (the group that includes elephants and their long-gone relatives), embarked on a special expedition to Nepal to resolve this mystery. Venturing into the wilderness during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-pre-monsoon-forest-fires-in-nepal">the peak of the dry season</a>, the expedition team tracked and studied these male elephants, along with other bulls like Bahadur Gajah, across the plains of Bardia. &nbsp;&nbsp; Lister meticulously measured the body and head sizes of these wild bulls and compared them with those of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-humans-can-live-with-wild-elephants"> wild elephants</a> in Indian forests, ultimately debunking the myth that the Nepali bulls were related to mammoths or Stegodons. Instead, they were exceptionally large Asian elephants (Elephas maximus), and their remarkable size was simply a result of natural growth, and the abundant food and water found in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bardia-s-birds">Bardia’s thriving ecosystem</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053115054_c6d62fabf7bc23f81a56e357ca94e6f2dd5c3e10ab5eefeb9e4aa3f5f8c72c2b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025053115054_c6d62fabf7bc23f81a56e357ca94e6f2dd5c3e10ab5eefeb9e4aa3f5f8c72c2b" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="The Big Bulls of Bardia"> <figcaption>Ganesha, a wild male bull, from the forest of southern India © Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel</figcaption> </figure>  But this exploration took a fascinating twist. Lister noticed something else that was remarkable about the skull shapes of Raja Gaj and Kancha: a high, domed forehead, strikingly similar to that of an extinct species, Elephas hysudricus, whose fossils have been discovered in the Siwalik Hills of northern India, considered a likely ancestor of today’s Asian elephants. This similarity suggested that these Bardia bulls might still carry ancestral traits from a species that walked the Earth hundreds of thousands of years ago. Even more intriguing, the bulls looked noticeably different from male elephants in southern Indian forests, proving just how much geography and local environments can shape the bodies of wild animals.&nbsp; <a href="https://digitalcommons.wayne.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1151&amp;context=elephant">The results were published in the Journal Elephant</a> as a paper titled Exceptional Size and Form of Asian Elephants in Western Nepal in 2000. Back in the 1990s, the story of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-elephant-dilemma"> Nepal’s giant elephants</a> made headlines around the world. But today, with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-protected-areas-from-infrastructure?fbclid=IwAR1wK0MDFlFST_2EYb3f54LS4-fPt6rYfLG1DJ1JaQsU3w8-ezyXIxGOqzk">growing infrastructure</a> and human development cutting across ancient migration routes and floodplains, we are left to wonder: how many more mega-bulls like Raja Gaj, Kancha and Thula hatti still roam the forests of Nepal—unseen and unstudied. Marking a poignant end to the legend of Nepal’s most iconic wild male elephant, Raja Gaj was never spotted again after December 2007. He was believed to be around 70 years old at the time of his disappearance. As conservation challenges mount and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/not-out-of-the-woods-yet">wild spaces shrink</a>, the story of Nepal’s bull elephants is a powerful reminder of what still lies hidden in the natural world and how much we stand to lose if we stop paying attention. Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel is an elephant biologist and Assistant Professor at The Hakubi Center for Advanced Research and Graduate School of Asian and African Area Studies, Kyoto University.

The Big Bulls of Bardia

At the edge of the dense forest overlooking Bhaktapur, the sound of chirping birds and the wind rustling through the trees have been replaced by the growl of dozens of bulldozers. This Kakrabari Community Forest behind Suryabinayak shrine was c<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">arefully protected and managed </a>by the local Tamang community for centuries. Today, heavy earthmovers claw noisily at the slope, opening it up like a big red wound. With little land left in the densely populated city, developers are venturing further afield to the valley’s rim and forcibly taking over forests that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local communities </a>have depended on for fodder, firewood and to protect their watershed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  This project of Nic Vujicic Housing Company in Suryabinayak’s Kakrabari Bhanjyang is just the latest and most blatant example of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests">encroachment of forests </a>by real estate developers in collusion with local government officials. “One day, they just came and bulldozed my house,” says Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda, whose family has been living in a tent since March. “Company workers gathered my belongings, deposited them in this tent and demolished my house.” Unlike some of her neighbours, Lama refused to give up her home, but stood no chance against the heavy machines and strongmen mobilised by the company.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda whose house was bulldozed last month. She and her family are now living in makeshift huts nearby.</figcaption> </figure>  Adds Shanta: “I have not signed any document of agreement, the company keeps telling me that they will settle the paperwork later.” Her neighbour Bal Bahadur Tamang, says a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ordinary-nepalis-extraordinary-sacrifice"> bulldozer razed his house</a> while he was out grazing goats in the forest. He recalls: “My wife shouted to the neighbours for help, but no one heard her.” &nbsp; The company used strongarm tactics to try to force Bal Bahadur to sign away his small plot at the edge of the forest that the housing company needed. The family refused, so the property was simply taken over. “Many families have been forcibly evicted from their homes and moved elsewhere to make way for the new housing colony,” says Bal Bahadur. But such is the fear of the young vigilantes employed by the company, that they are afraid to speak out.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Many families this one have been forcibly evicted, and do not want to speak openly because of the fear of vigilantes. </figcaption> </figure>  But there appears to be a generational divide among the local community in Ghising Danda. Many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men">young men have migrated</a> to the city or abroad, but those that remain have been promised jobs and a piece of land by the company, and support the project.&nbsp; For centuries, Suryabinayak communities have tended to the land, and the land has tended to them. The protected trees provide them with livelihood,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/multipronged-response-to-nepal-s-multi-hazards"> prevent landslides</a> on the slopes above and recharge ground water so the springs do not go dry. But this historic connection was severed in January when the excavators arrived to chop down trees and dig up the hill, razing 1.1 hectares of the community forest and surrounding settlements.&nbsp; Much of the forest is now gone, and recent rains have washed the red mud down the mountain like a bleeding gash. On a recent visit excavators were levelling the slope.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing is owned by Purna Bahadur Limbu, Prabin Kusma and Dillidhwaj Baraili. It had parcelled 14.6 hectares in the neighbouring Palanse village three years ago, and was even awarded by the municipality for the project.&nbsp; Now, the company is clearing 27 hectares of private property and community forest in Ghising Danda without a planning permit either from the municipality or the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA).&nbsp; In fact, its application has been pending at the Authority since last October. The company has dangled a lollipop by promising 21 out of the 451 private plots to the government.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  Nepal’s 2015 Basic Standards for the Development of Settlements, and Urban Planning and Building Construction by-laws stipulate that land transactions, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-building-bridges-in-tasmania">construction projects</a>, and housing development via land consolidation require approval from either the KVDA or local government.&nbsp; Projects involving land up to 0.1 hectares require permission from the local level, and those of up to 2.5 hectares require approval from the district authorities, and plans exceeding that area need a permit from the KVDA.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing’s director Dillidhwaj Baraili, is a member of the Federation of Nepalese Industries and Entrepreneurs (FENIE), and close to the ruling UML party.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  While the company did consult with locals, conduct an EIA, tested soil quality, and conducted a hydrological study of the area, these were perfunctory and incomplete for a proper permit application. The approval of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/mind-the-gap-6liiyw5w"> private landowners </a>and the municipality as well as project details were missing.&nbsp; The company had excavated half of Ghising Danda without permission when the local community started raising questions. Only then did it seek permission from the ward, which directed it to apply for a planning permit from the Suryabinayak Municipality.&nbsp; “We are yet to verify whether all the documents submitted by the company are in order, which is why the application is still pending,” Rajendra Prasad Nepal, the municipality’s information officer, told Nepali Times.&nbsp; But the lack of a permit does not seem to deter company director Dillidhwaj Baraili, who uses convoluted semantics to justify using excavators on private and community land. &nbsp; “It is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-unreal-real-estate-prices">plotting of the land</a> that requires approval from the KVDA, we do not need permission from local authorities to operate heavy machinery on the project site,” Baraili told us. However, Ward 9 Chair Bhagwan Khatri says no such permission to use excavators and bulldozers have been given without first obtaining a planning permit. “The housing project is illegal because it has moved forward without a planning permit,” says KVDA’s District Commissioner for Bhaktapur, Safal Shrestha. When the bulldozers started felling trees in the community forest in March, a joint task force of four local guthi put up a resistance, and demanded that the housing company ensure that there would be no mudslide danger downslope <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">during the monsoon</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Dozens of heavy earthmovers were at work at this site one morning earlier this month. With an early monsoon, residents fear mud slides.</figcaption> </figure>  It also wanted the company to make sure the flow of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-heat-beneath-our-feet">water in springs</a> were not affected, and to set up a boundary along the community forest to prevent further encroachment. It also demanded compensation to displaced homeowners.&nbsp; But Nic Vujicic Housing paid no heed, and sent in excavators. Last month, the Kakrabari Community Forest Users Struggle Committee wrote to the Bhaktapur District Administration Office, Suryabinayak Municipality, and the Division forest Office to halt the project. In response, the housing company put out a press release accusing residents of spreading rumours, but the statement presented contradicting information about the status of its planning permit at various levels of the government. &nbsp; It has taken a month for the local government to even send an inspection team to the site. But the team concluded that the forest had been encroached upon and asked the housing company to halt its activities immediately.&nbsp; The company refused to comply, and on 9 May the Police was sent to shut down the project. Baraili maintains the forest was levelled with the consent of all four Guthi as well as Ram Krishna Tamang of the Kakrabari Community Forest User group. Tamang told us he has given no such go-ahead.&nbsp; “How could we have permitted the operation of construction machinery in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/safeguarding-the-soul-of-sal">community forest </a>when the Nepal government itself does not allow the destruction of public property?” adds Tamang. Because of the controversy, the company is now trying to use a carrot and stick approach by placating the local community, while also intimidating those who speak out. “Even though we had obtained permission, perhaps we should have not started using our heavy machinery yet,” Baraili admitted. However, the company is trying to silence dissenters in the community with threats. The company has deployed local youth who have been promised jobs to convince and cajole outspoken community members in Ghising Danda. &nbsp; One of them is Chewang Tamang, who says jobs are more important, and lashes out at locals for being “anti-development”. He says: “There is no point sitting around complaining that a few trees have been cut. The only people who are opposed to this project are those who do not want this place to develop.” &nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2F6TRxyQjbo50%3Fsi%3DjMRyrgfB9tTX8pP8&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div>

Plotting to plunder

It was at 2:45AM in the morning, I was in a deep sleep when I got a call from the hospital. The nurse on duty said there was a woman in labour who had had two previous C-sections. Half-asleep, I realised our resident gynaecologist was away on training and immediately rushed to the ward. The patient was 39-year-old Nim Diki Sherpa, wincing in pain and fully dilated. She had not had a single <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-one-nepali-mother-at-a-time">ante-natal checkup</a>, and said she did not even know she was pregnant because she had taken a depo<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Ftnp-the-curse-of-the-contraceptive,493"> contraceptive injection</a>. Her husband was away and she was brought to Bhojpur District Hospital by neighbours who also had no idea she was pregnant.&nbsp; As resident medical officer with only an advanced skilled assistant birth attendant (ASBA), I was clueless about what to do next. Because of her two previous C-sections, this could be a complicated case needing referral. But our referral centre was too far away for this <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-air-ambulance-saves-mothers">emergency</a>. With our medical superintendent, we gathered at the operation theatre <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/book-review-Admissions-Henry-Marsh-Neurosurgeon,4055">for surgery</a> and took the patient’s consent. Pre-anaesthetic check-up and preloading were done and the patient wheeled in.&nbsp; Blood grouping and crossmatch was done, and two hospital staff donated their own blood since the blood bank did not have stock. Because the patient was writhing in pain, the spinal anesthesia was administered with some difficulty.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250522090524_8a340dc6217599bf9cce8eb2315731089307e3b06a31baef5b622d5ad40ac71e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250522090524_8a340dc6217599bf9cce8eb2315731089307e3b06a31baef5b622d5ad40ac71e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="643" loading="lazy" alt="Saving one mother at a time NT"> </figure>  I was the main surgeon with another <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-nepali-mothers-on-mother-s-day">birth attendant</a>, an experienced nurse and anaesthesia assistant. An incision was made near the C-section scars, but as we entered the abdominal cavity there was a sudden gush of blood. We could not figure out where it was coming from.&nbsp; After separating the muscle, I could see that it was as we had feared: a uterine rupture. We made a T-shaped incision to deliver the baby which was drowning in blood. The anaesthesia assistant, medical superintendent and nurse started resuscitating the baby, and I waited for it to cry while trying to deal with the mother’s bleeding. I felt I had lost one life, and could not save the other. We took the uterus out from the incision, traced the source of the bleeding, and started clamping with all the instruments we had.&nbsp; I had seen one case of peripartum hysterectomy during my training, and knew that a case like this was touch and go. Remembering tips from the training, I asked for long artery forceps. It was not in the set, but the nurse tracked one down in the store, disinfected it with betadine and handed it to me.&nbsp; There was no time to autoclave it, and I remembered my trainer telling me that we should all adapt to the situation at hand (अवस्था अनुसारको ब्यबस्था). His advice rang loudly in my ear. There was little hope, but I tried to keep calm and started suturing layers of incisions. All the while the anaesthesia assistant managed to keep everything under control. There was massive bleeding and we transfused two-pints of whole blood. I remembered what the mother had said before she was anaesthetised: “Doctor, do everything to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-one-nepali-mother-at-a-time-c2plk4ko?fbclid=IwAR3pJwcfeEosJdmBoF623hnjWjHoqIddTwWGMkPoOFNWqMujm1irA1auFr4">save my life</a>.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250522090524_e63c9f48bc630d4dea355d15554f2228a1ae9879c816fbcad42396e7f7f11d40.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250522090524_e63c9f48bc630d4dea355d15554f2228a1ae9879c816fbcad42396e7f7f11d40" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Saving one mother at a time NT"> </figure>  After three continuous hours at surgery, dawn was breaking as the mother’s bleeding started to come under control and her blood pressure started rising. But we still had a long way to go. The medical superintendent had arranged for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-air-ambulance-saves-mothers">helicopter medevac </a>and she was airlifted out soon after.&nbsp; With me in the surgery team that night were fellow doctors Praveen Mandal and Shivaji Rijal, anaesthesia assistant Durga Nanda Chaudhary and nurses Sumitra Shiwa and Basanta Moktan. Advanced skilled birth attendant (ASBA) is a 70-day training given to MBBS doctors by the National Health Training Center and Nick Simons Institute (NSI) with clinical exposure in obstetrics after which they are expected to manage <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/saving-nepali-mothers-and-babies-district-by-district">complicated deliveries in rural government hospitals</a> with cesarean section independently. Nepal has dramatically reduced<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/now-and-then"> maternal mortality ratio</a> from 536 per 100,000 live births thirty years ago to 145 now – mainly because of antenatal checkups, institutional deliveries and an increased number of advanced skilled birth attendants.&nbsp; Over the past three decades, the lives of countless <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-more-mothers-and-babies">Nepali mothers </a>have been saved. Like Nim Diki Sherpa, mothers have been saved one at a time by dedicated doctors and nurses working with limited resources and equipment. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-lagging-in-safe-motherhood"> Nepal lagging in safe motherhood</a>, Sudiksha Tuladhar There were many lessons we learnt that day. I learned what it is to take a leadership role in a life-or-death situation. Back at Paropakar Maternity Hospital training in Kathmandu a senior consultant gynecologist once told me to scrub when a patient is bleeding profusely. He knew that one day I would be alone trying to save a life. “There is no running away,” he had said. “There is no excuse, you either try or let a patient die.” Once trained, circumstances will not let you choose. You cannot say ‘I wasn’t trained for this’, you have to adapt to the situation at hand with whatever you have.

Saving one mother at a time

In the black and white photograph, General Wangdu smiles broadly in front of the dusty cactus garden in Kathmandu’s Annapurna Hotel. With an ill-fitting jacket and shaggy hair he looks benign enough, but this was the last leader of the Tibetan freedom fighters who led the resistance against the Chinese from their remote mountain hideouts in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Mustang</a>. Five months later, Wangdu was dead. Snapped in March 1974, I had only recently arrived in Nepal. How did I meet this legendary fighter? Possibly with his devoted camp follower, Lynne Klapecki, and probably in the Om Restaurant near Freak Street which was the preferred <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hippie-trail-nostalgia-in-kathmandu">hippie hang-out</a>. Om Lobsang and his brother Yeshe were <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/earthquake-brings-back-memories-of-camps-for-tibetan-refugees">refugees from East Tibet </a>whose cafe offered a friendly welcome and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/momo-loco"> the best momos</a> - they became my in-laws after I married their eldest brother Tenzin, but that was a decade later.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1583" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption> </figure>  Wangdu’s English was enthusiastically rudimentary, but even riding around town with him on the back of an aging <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-new-motorbike-museum">motorbike</a>, he was a commanding presence. Always flanked by armed outriders, impressive scars marked his forearms and a pistol hung from the cord around his neck. A charismatic guerrilla leader, Wangdu was celebrated by his followers for his tough commitment and respected for his measured pragmatism. He seemed so young to have shouldered such a responsibility of command, leading hundreds of hardened <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/50-years-after-the%20raid-into-Tibet,1012#google_vignette">Khampa combatants </a>through what had been a particularly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/heavy-snowfall-over-nepal-himalaya">brutal winter in Mustang</a>, the last bastion to hold out against the Chinese invasion of their Tibetan homeland.&nbsp; The freedom fighters of Tibet, known as the Chushi-Gangdruk, had emerged to resist the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/territorialism">Chinese takeover</a> of Tibet during the 1950s. Estimated to be 80,000-strong at the time of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-or-who-after-the-dalai-lama">the Dalai Lama</a>’s final escape to India in 1959, the sheer number of Chinese deployed into Tibet eventually forced the Chushi-Gangdruk to retreat to Mustang, From this high Himalayan stronghold, they continued cross-border raids on the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) throughout the 1960s.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="676" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Guerrillas known as the Chushi-Gangdruk emerged to resist the Chinese annexation of Tibet during the 1950s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>  Their Kathmandu base was a small discreet lodge in a back lane near Rani Pokhari. Sipping sweet tea from a blue mug with a chipped lid, I sat bemused in a corner of the Mustang Hotel room whilst Wangdu and his cohorts received a battered brown suitcase from their CIA connection, a tousle-haired American in a leather jacket. Heaved onto the dingy bedspread that covered the thin mattress, it was clicked open to reveal piles of neatly stacked dollar bills.&nbsp; I cannot think why Wangdu allowed me to witness this handover but I was clearly no threat, a newly arrived world traveller with no understanding of the stakes nor any Nepali or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tibetan-music-in-nepals-sacred-valley">Tibetan language</a>. Despite armed guards in the corridor,Wangdu radiated confidence and bravado, and there was a practiced familiarity to the tense transaction. This deadly dance for many years had been funded by the Americans, tolerated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-kingdom-within-a-republic">Mustang’s residents</a>, and permitted by King Mahendra and the Nepali authorities who it suited to turn a blind eye.&nbsp; But Mahendra died in 1972, and times were changing. Richard Nixon’s ping-pong diplomacy thawed the cold war and signalled a fresh entente with China. Nepal’s yet-to-be-crowned <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy">King Birendra </a>was under pressure to curb the irritating incursions against the PLA launched from the Nepali territory of Mustang. Keen to appease his northern neighbour, on several occasions the King summoned Wangdu for peace talks but, despite increasingly overwhelming odds, Wangdu refused to surrender.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1055" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>General Wangdu flanked by two Tibetan resistance fighters in Mustang in the 1970s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1044" height="792" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>King Birendra with General Wangdu (right in dark glasses) taken in 1974 possibly in Mustang after one of their few attempts at negotiation. Photo courtesy: RAJRNDRA KUNWAR</figcaption> </figure>  While I naively rode pillion around Kathmandu in the spring sunshine, Wangdu was in the midst of what turned out to be his final round of negotiations with the Nepal government. Refusing to cease hostilities with the Chinese, Wangdu must have suspected the cost of his decision, making his cheerful smile in the photograph all the more poignant and brave. It was only much later that I appreciated the significance of the moment. Wangdu had been sent to replace the first resistance leader in Mustang, Baba Gen Yeshe, a much derided corrupt character who stole money meant for his troops and exploited fleeing refugees by seizing their treasures. Baba Gen Yeshe never forgave Wangdu,and sought revenge in May 1974 by betraying him and his commanders to the Nepal authorities. Renewed Chinese incursions from the north, active PLA collusion with the Nepali forces under the new King, and treachery from within the Chushi-Gangdrukranks combined to seal their fate.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="769" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>British television journalists George Patterson and Adrian Cowell embedded themselves with Khampa guerrillas and accompanied them from Tsum Valley on a cross border raid on a Chinese Army convoy in 1964. Photo: ESSAYS ON NEPAL / SAM COWAN</figcaption> </figure>  Mikel Dunham, renowned author of Buddha’s Warriors, writes: ‘It is possible that Wangdu was waiting for some cue from the Dalai Lama’s government-in-exile in Dharamsala, India. It is equally possible – during that last, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-human-cost-of-nepal-s-yarsa-gold-rush?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR31-Cqw8oyIwMPzf_35e4Skr0ululJvLf3_vDkzHn-AYG2h8uPw2rqqErg_aem_tGVn5coY1-jA7fze_xqhew">desolate winter </a>– that he made the decision to go out in glory rather than admit defeat. Over the last fifteen years, Wangdu had experienced Tibet’s organized resistance being squeezed and shoved around by every conceivable outside force.&nbsp; First they had been pushed out of their own country by the PLA; then they had been refused sanction while on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/nepal-india-trans-boundary-bonds?fbclid=IwAR0PpJ5zUEbwdug3g_U3ar6FUugngRY0S8Tl2v_7wqzrsHmXWcXsKjvL4t4">Indian soil</a>; then they were abandoned by the Americans because, apparently, Nixon wanted to make friends with Wangdu’s mortal enemies, the communists; then they had been betrayed by the vampiric Baba Gen Yeshe – a Tibetan and, even worse, a fellow Khampa; and now, finally Wangdu’s army was being evicted by the Nepalis. One thing was certain: Wangdu was a warrior. To imagine Wangdu simply giving up and settling down in the pacific squalor of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp">refugee camp </a>was unthinkable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="746" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>The much derided Baba Gen Yeshe, the first Tibetan resistance leader in Mustang, who betrayed Wangdu for personal gain. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="656" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Aditya SJB Rana of the Royal Nepal Army whose team ambushed Wangdu and his cohorts at the top of Tinker Pass in Darchula, West Nepal. Photo courtesy: GAUTAM SJB RANA</figcaption> </figure>  By August 1974 the game was up. Wangdu and six of his exhausted party were killed on their horses by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7270">the Royal Nepal Army</a> on the brink of escape. The officer in charge, Aditya SJB Rana, cleverly predicted their route into India after they failed to silence a police radio in Yari. A carefully laid ambush trapped them near the summit of the Tinker Pass in Darchula,at 5,000 meters the highest military operation of its time. Wangdu’s body was helicoptered to Kathmandu, and a big show made of the royal Nepal victory.&nbsp; The Tibetan armed insurgency against China had reached its end.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_23" data-image-id="20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> </figure>

Lisa Choegyal

The Last Days of the Khampa

Nepal made significant <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/covid-undermines-nepals-mother-child-gains">gains in maternal and neonatal healthcare</a> in the last 25 years, but the gains have stalled and the country may not meet global targets. The national maternal mortality rate (MMR) dropped from 536 per 100,000 live births in 1996 to 151 by 2021. This progress was driven by improvements in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/altruistic-healthcare-models-in-nepal">healthcare infrastructure</a>, the work of female health volunteers, improvements in perinatal care and a significant increase in hospital deliveries.&nbsp; The National Safe Motherhood Program, Ama Surakshya initiative and the Female Community Health Volunteers (FCHV) have contributed to progress in reducing MMR and increasing institutional deliveries. But the World Health Organisation (WHO) 2025 report puts Nepal’s MMR at 142 per 100,000 live births, which means it has flatlined for the past four years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250522170556_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250522170556_24b9e04295150a8a64ff56f457e3faebd84eaa22a3e3521499ac17c23ec48027" data-rendition-name="original" width="790" height="542" loading="lazy" alt="Maternal health map NT"> </figure>  The national MMR average hides regional disparities, with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/remove-barriers-to-life-saving-drug-to-prevent-maternal-deaths">maternal deaths </a>remaining high in Lumbini (207) and Karnali (172). Despite Lumbini having a relatively higher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/age-no-bar-to-go-to-school">female literacy</a>, the province has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/infant-deaths-up-during-nepal-lockdown">low institutional deliveries</a> and poor hospital care. Similarly, there are wide disparities among<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15775"> ethnic communities </a>and socio-economic groups. &nbsp; “Societal norms, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/educating-girls-to-break-cycle-of-poverty?fbclid=IwAR0XzGho9fTElYVPdnWnajc6AWidkzs-ekeFSnMi8EXh0FVsyGOl8Umwwvo">education for girls</a>, and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-right%20-to-have-rights,2656">gender rights </a>play a critical role in shaping maternal and women's health outcomes,” explains public health expert Aruna Uprety. “Comprehensive awareness about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/support-for-reproductive-health-of-nepali-women">sexual and reproductive health </a>is essential, especially in rural areas where there is still a significant knowledge gap.” Indeed, there is a direct inverse correlation between female literacy and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/can-nepal-end-child-marriage-by-2030-gmx92qf3">child marriage </a>with MMR across Nepal. The cause of maternal deaths, perinatal care including post-partum haemorrhage need particular focus.&nbsp; Under Nepal’s national Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) the target is to reduce MMR to 116 by 2030, against a global target of 70 per 100,000 live births.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250522170556_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250522170556_2ce41f5b625cb005b9477861d0c208e806601ce7eaa804d525030282675e3856" data-rendition-name="original" width="377" height="367" loading="lazy" alt="Maternal health graph NT"> </figure>  The National Planning Commission has also set its own target to improve maternal health outcomes, but they are inconsistent— while one section of its 16th National Plan sets a MMR goal of 100 by 2029, another section of the same document presents a more ambitious goal of 85. Such inconsistency even in target-setting creates confusion and undermines planning efforts, in monitoring, and fulfilment of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16444">maternal health goals</a> — especially when existing health statistics are unreliable to begin with. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-slaughter-of-our-daughters">The slaughter of our daughters</a>, Shristi Karki “Conflicting targets and the lack of clarity at the highest levels of national planning create uncertainty for maternal health professionals, making it difficult to align their efforts and strategies,” says Laxmi Tamang, South East Asia Board Member of the International Confederation of Midwives (ICM).&nbsp; Meanwhile, issues with budget deployment, and a lack of coordination between local and international agencies have also affected maternal and child health outcomes, which has been further exacerbated by the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trump-shock-wave-hits-nepal">USAID funding freeze</a>. The aid agency had allocated $72 million to reduce MMR and enhance access to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal">healthcare in Nepal</a> for this year.&nbsp; Laws targeted towards sexual and reproductive health have played a significant role in improving maternal health outcomes in Nepal. Legalisation in 2002 brought down the number of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/globe-rallies-to-aid-nepals-women,3841">unsafe abortions</a>. Better access to reproductive health also reduced conditions including uterine prolapse.&nbsp; Currently, over half of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/saving-nepali-mothers-and-babies-district-by-district"> maternal deaths in Nepal</a> occur at health facilities, 26% at home and 17% during patient transport or referrals.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250522170556_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20250522170556_983e3b652b38cee4a1d977742e0211dd85c1ab8085f961876dde1ada78c7c2ac" data-rendition-name="original" width="359" height="329" loading="lazy" alt="Maternal health pie chart NT"> </figure>  “Legal remedies have definitely helped to reduce maternal mortality rates, but it is important that both men and women be informed about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/caring-for-nepals-women?%2F">women’s health</a>,” says Uprety. However, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-has-progress-in-saving-women-s-lives-stalled">Nepal’s maternal health sector</a> is unlikely to see meaningful progress as long as critical <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nursing-grievances-against-the-state">shortages of skilled health providers</a> persist and the retention of trained professionals remains weak. Strengthening legislation, scaling training, and improving rural infrastructure are critical to aligning Nepal with global standards and achieving SDG maternal health targets by 2030. Says Tamang: “Maternal health must be recognised as a fundamental gender issue. Implementing existing policies, as well as forming a gender-responsive budget and increasing targeted investments in this sector are essential to ensuring equitable and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-far-from-hitting-contraceptive-target">effective healthcare for women</a>.” <h2>Midwives save lives</h2> Along with doctors and nurses, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/midwives-to-the-rescue-in-nepal">midwives are crucial to Nepal’s maternal health </a>workforce, and play an important role in improving Nepal’s maternal health and childcare outcomes. However, those working in midwifery are hindered by the lack of professional recognition and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-less-and-less-able-to-feed-itself">systemic challenges in Nepal</a>, leading to discontent among doctors and nurses in the maternal, reproductive and child care sectors, who fear they will be replaced by midwives.&nbsp; There is a lack of clarity even within the medical community about the job description for doctors and nurses, versus that of midwives. While nurses are taught about multiple human body systems, midwives are specifically trained in sexual and reproductive health to assist in both home and institutional deliveries.&nbsp; Obstetric nursing involves working alongside doctors to administer perinatal care. In contrast, midwives are exclusively trained to only handle pregnancies, deliveries, and postnatal care that are without complications. &nbsp; The introduction of midwifery education in Nepal in 2016 marked a significant step toward improving maternal and newborn health outcomes. But there are currently only 91 professionally trained midwives across the country, which is significantly short of Nepal’s target of having 6,410 midwives by 2030.&nbsp; Says Kiran Bajracharya, founder and former president of the Midwifery Society of Nepal (MIDSON), “A trained midwife is capable of reducing two-thirds of prevalent maternal deaths in Nepal.” Even so, there have been some notable gains: the establishment of the Midwife-Led Antenatal Clinic (MLAC) at Paropakar Maternity and Women’s Hospital in Kathmandu in 2023 placed professional midwives at the centre of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/what-can-be-more-fulfilling-than-saving-lives">maternal health services</a> for the first time in an institutional setting, marking a shift in antenatal care in Nepal. The MLAC has provided personalised care, counselling, and emotional support to over 4,000 pregnant women so far. And unlike the obstetrician model of care, deliveries involving midwives at the MLAC allow husbands and partners to be present during childbirth. “It is imperative that the government prioritise midwifery as a key step toward strengthening the maternal health system,” says Bajracharya. “There is an urgent need to create dedicated positions and deploy trained personnel to address existing workforce gaps.”

Nepal lagging in safe motherhood

Fenerbahçe Beko won the Turkish Airlines EuroLeague finals in Abu Dhabi, held 23-25 May, defeating Monaco 81-70 in the final. Olympiacos, who defeated Panathinaikos 97-93, finished the series in third place. The Most Valuable Player (MVP) of the final match, Nigel Hayes-Davis from Fenerbahçe Beko, received a prize of 1,000,000 Miles&amp;Smiles from Turkish Airlines’ Chief Commercial Officer Ahmet Olmuştur. The carrier has been the title sponsor of the Turkish Airlines EuroLeague, a top tier tournament, since 2010.

Turkish Basketball

While Nepal was hosting the Sagarmatha Sambaad international climate conference in Kathmandu this month, on Mt Everest it was pretty much business as usual.&nbsp; The signs of climate breakdown are all there: a river now runs through Base Camp in summer, the Khumbu Icefall is more unstable, and there are more &nbsp;frequent avalanches. When expeditions arrived in March, the mountains were bare: it had not snowed since September, but then blizzards dumped unseasonal snow in May. And despite climate worries, such is the pull of Himalayan mountaineering that the Everest Industry showed no signs of slowdown. More than 600 international climbers and their Nepali guides had made it to the summit of the world’s highest mountain. At one point there were an estimated 2,000 people in the tent city on the Khumbu Glacier. All the ropes and ladders on the Icefall came down on Thursday, marking the official end of the spring climbing season, and just in time to avoid a monsoon cyclone approaching from the Bay of Bengal. It has been an action-packed season. One factor could be that Everest fees will go up from September: each foreign climber needs to pay a $15,000 royalty, up from the present $11,000. The cost for a Nepali climber on the South Col route will also go up: from Rs75,000 to Rs150,000.&nbsp; The fee to climb Everest in autumn is $7,500 (up from $5,500), but most climbers still prefer spring. Winter permit fee (December-February) is only $3,750 per person and the mountain is now also open for monsoon (June-August) climbs, when the fee is ever lower at $2,750. The revised rule also makes it mandatory for every two climbers on an 8,000m peak to hire one Nepali mountain guide.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046" data-rendition-name="original" width="931" height="732" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry graph 1"> </figure>  In addition, climbers also have to pay for porters and guides, equipment, Base Camp costs, Ice Fall and fixed rope team fees, so climbing Everest does not come cheap. But such is the draw of climbing the world’s highest peak that some say the increased fees will not diminish the crowds next year. The government has tried to spread expeditions out to other seasons and other 8,000ers, but with not much success. Earlier this year, Nepal unilaterally increased the number of 8,000m peaks to 14 by adding six more sub-summits to broaden the choice for climbers. Added were: Yalung Kang (8,505m), Yalung Kang West (8,077m) &nbsp;Kangchenjunga Central (8,473m), Kangchenjunga South (8,476m), Lhotse Middle (8,410m) and Lhotse Shar (8,400m).&nbsp; The announcement could go against the accepted topographic criteria that a stand alone peak has to be at least 300m higher than an adjoining prominence, and at more than 3km isolation from it. The UIAA (Union Internationale des Associations d'Alpinisme) still recognises only 14 mountains as eight-thousanders, and only eight of those are in Nepal, or on the border with China. Nepal’s revised mountaineering regulations also increased the insurance coverage of high-altitude workers to protect porters and high altitude guides who usually take more risks on the mountains. Rescue teams and clean-up campaigners to collect trash and remove bodies of dead climbers up to Camp IV of Mt Everest do not need permits.&nbsp; The Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee is now using drones to fly down trash in 20kg sacks. Each climber is also required to bring down at least 6kg of waste and not just their own, but this rule is erratically enforced. With five fatalities on Everest and Lhotse, Spring 2025 had a historically low death toll. Another five climbers died on Annapurna, Kangchenjunga and Makalu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a" data-rendition-name="original" width="665" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest industry graph 2"> </figure>  Journalist Ben Ayers who ran the Everest Live social media channel from Everest Base Camp with daily updates credited the low death rate to dramatic rescues of climbers from the ‘Death Zone’ by their Nepali guides and longline helievacs — the visuals all uploaded on YouTube.&nbsp; “Ironically, this perception of safety is bringing more and more inexperienced climbers to the mountain, and they need more rescues,” Ayers said in one of his dispatches.&nbsp; American expedition chronicler and summiteer Alan Arnette suspects there is a lot of under-reporting given that the jet stream and storms were lashing Everest even till late in the season. He told us: “I heard a lot about frostbite and rescues that were not made public. It’s become practically impossible to cover the details on Everest. All the teams report nice news, and they don’t talk about bad stuff to avoid hurting businesses.” Although trash on Nepal’s mountains makes headlines, what does not receive as much attention is the climate impact of so many expeditions. The Sagarmatha Sambaad conference sidestepped this issue, which is ironic given that the impact of climate breakdown is most evident on Himalayan peaks and their glaciers.&nbsp; <h2>Need for Speed</h2> The big stories this year have been about speed-running from their home cities to the top of Everest. Ukrainian entrepreneur Andrew Ushakov flew out of JFK on 15 May at 10:15AM Nepal time, and was on the summit 3 days, 23 hours, and 7 minutes later on 19 May at 9:22AM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1800" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry"> <figcaption>Andrew Ushakov at the summt. Photo: ELITE EXPED</figcaption> </figure>  “I could never find the time for the traditional 40-50 days of acclimatisation,” Ushakov explained matter-of-factly. His ‘Everest Sea-to-Summit’ climb was possible because he spent 400 hours in hypoxic sleep tents over the past four years in New York. However, Ushakov did use ropes already fixed, hired four Nepali guides, helicoptered to Base Camp, and used much more oxygen than an average climber. And after the climb, Ushakov was arrested at Kathmandu airport for being in possession of $20,000 of undeclared cash and spent a night in jail and fined $60,000.&nbsp; The other speedsters were Garth Miller, Alastair Cairns, Anthony Stazicker, and Kev Godlington, all former British Army commandos. They left London and summited five days later on 21 May, and flew right back. They also used hypoxic tents to simulate the thin air high on Everest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="668" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry "> <figcaption>All four members of the Furtenbach team at the summit. Photo: Sandro Gromen-Hayes</figcaption> </figure>  But more controversial was their use of xenon gas therapy in a German hospital to ramp up the production of oxygen-carrying haemoglobins in their blood. Xenon is banned by the World Anti-Doping Agency for being performance enhancing in sports. Expedition leader Lukas Furtenbach said this rule does not apply to mountaineering, as it is not a regulated sport like swimming. Nepal has no rules about xenon, but the Department of Tourism said it was launching an ‘investigation’ to decide on future policy since it is difficult to ban xenon, but allow oxygen. The controversy has also divided the mountaineering community, with some climbers saying they just want to maximise their chances of survival. Spending less time on the mountain could make climbing safer by reducing avalanche risk. It would also mean less trash on the mountains, but it would reduce the income of Nepal’s expedition industry. It is also unclear how much of the success was due to xenon therapy and whether the ex-special forces were already in good physical shape.&nbsp; The need for speed hides the fact that climbing in the Himalaya is dangerous business, and climbers cannot sprint to the top just by huffing xenon. But ultra-fast climbs could be charged more, and the revenue generated can be used to establish state-of-the-art rescue operations, and increase pay and insurance for guides. Two other speed chasers this season were Swiss-Ecuadorian Karl Egloff and American Tyler Andrews, both on Everest without oxygen. Andrews choppered to Base Camp to catch a weather window, but turned back from 8,500m due to high winds. Heavy snow and wind also forced Egloff to descend from 7,000m. Slow and steady climbers like Anja Blacha from Germany did make it to the summit without oxygen, while Kami Rita Sherpa broke his own record with his 31st Everest summit as he led a 26-strong Indian Army group. There were 468 permits issued for foreign climbers from 48 expeditions to Everest this spring. Nepal’s other eight-thousanders together had only 17 expeditions. Nepal has more than 1,000 peaks above 6,000m, and has opened only 476 of them for climbing.&nbsp;

The Everest Industry

While Nepal marked <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a> Day on 29 May, on the other side of the planet in the US state of Colorado dozens of Nepalis who have climbed the world’s highest peak multiple times were busy working as chefs and Uber drivers. Among them is Nima Doma Sherpa, who climbed Mt Everest in 2019 after her husband Tshering Wangchu was among 16 crushed by an avalanche on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/on-thin-ice-in-the-khumbu">the Khumbu Icefall</a> five years earlier. A large serac broke off the West Shoulder of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Mt Everest </a>and fell directly on a group of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/more-porters-sick-on-everest-trail">porters and guides</a> making their way up the Icefall at 5,800m. Their bodies were flown by helicopter to Khumjung where Tshering Wangchu was born. He was excited about climbing Mt Everest for the first time.&nbsp; In Khumjung, Nima Doma felt like her own life had also ended. This was the kind of news Sherpa wives, mothers and sisters dreaded every <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">mountaineering season</a>. She stayed home for more than two years grieving, but ultimately gathered up all her emotional strength to take care of her 6-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter. Nima had grown up in Khumjung hearing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/stories-of-nepal-s-summiteers">tales of adventure on the mountains </a>from their father, Ang Chubi Sherpa who had climbed Everest in 1993. He used to bring her and her sisters and brother European chocolates after every expedition, and used to tell them that the chocolate bars grew on the mountains. “It was only after we got older did we realise that he told us that chocolates grew in the mountains so we would not worry about him putting himself in harm's way,” Nima Doma recalled with a faraway look at her home in Boulder this week. Nima went to the school that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/commemorating-edmund-hillary-in-nepal,4145">Edmund Hillary</a> opened in Khumjung till Grade 8, and then dropped out to help in the kitchen and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">tend yaks</a>. She was married off to Tshering Wangchu, who was also a high altitude guide. When Tshering went on expeditions, Nima also started working as a porter from Namche to Base Camp. It was perhaps her father’s tales of mountains of chocolates that had always attracted her to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/knowing-our-mountains-43v4iyvo">the peaks</a>. After her husband was killed ten years ago this month, being a widow with children was not easy for Nima Doma. But she was not alone: there were at least 200 single mothers in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khumbu-since-1950-jaww4qn0">the Khumbu</a>, and 20 of them just in Khumjung whose husbands had been killed in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragic-start-to-himalayan-spring-nepal,3695">mountaineering accidents</a>. Some were not even 20 years old, and had children growing up without fathers. But there were also women in the 50s whose husbands had been killed in the 1980s. Nima found sponsors for her children’s education, and moved to Kathmandu. In the capital, Sherpa widows used to meet to help each other. Some of them had joined the Nepal Mountaineering Association (NMA) training for rock and ice climbing. “I decided that it was no use sitting home and crying anymore, after meeting other single mothers I felt less alone,” remembers Nima, who joined the Juniper Foundation and enrolled in an NMA training camp in Manang. There she climbed Chulu East (6,584m) and met Furadiki Sherpa, whose rope-fixing husband had also been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities">killed on Everest</a> in 2013. They set themselves the goal of climbing Everest one day, and started a fund-raising drive.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2678" height="1274" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  “We decided we had to overcome society’s stigma of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/widows-personal-happiness-comes-last-in-face-of-social-financial-hardships,1855">widowhood</a> and prove that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-junko-tabei">women could also climb mountains</a>,” Nima said, adding that she was inspired by Nepal’s first woman Everest summiteer Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, who died during her descent in 1993. Nima Doma and Furdiki climbed the technically-difficult Ama Dablam (6,812m) and then arrived at Everest Base Camp in April 2019 as part of their Two Widows Expedition with the motto, ‘So Can We’. While climbing up the Icefall Nima passed the spot where her husband had been killed. It was a jumble of constantly-shifting ice blocks bigger than houses. She closed her eyes and said a prayer. “I remember thinking, this is so difficult and dangerous. This is what my husband had to do to support our family,” Nima Doma said. “I was determined to fulfil my husband’s dream of climbing Chomolungma, and to prove to ourselves that we two women could do it.” It was 23 May 2019 when <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/world/two-sherpa-widows-scale-everest-and-smash-stigma-idUSKCN1SU0MV/" target="_blank">Nima and Furdiki stepped on the summit</a> and looked over into Tibet, and down at Tengboche Monastery to the south.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b.png" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="1522" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  Nima Doma hugged Furdiki, took off her mask and wept. But for the first time in five years, it was not from grief but relief — relief for being free of all the sadness and sacrifices and for fulfilling her husband’s dream. They had found <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-after-death">life after death</a>. “I felt this immense joy to be on top of the world, it was indescribable,” Nima Doma said, “I have wept only twice in my life. Once when my husband died, and once there on top of Everest.” The tears had frozen on Nima Doma’s cheeks, as she and Furdiki headed back down the mountain.