An unassuming entrance near Pashupati Temple in Kathmandu leads into the Mrigasthali forest. Despite a steady stream of people passing through the sacred grounds, most do not know that for centuries it has been a burial site.&nbsp; The forest here is where children too young to be cremated used to be buried, as were Hindu ascetics and later the Kirat and Christian population of Kathmandu.&nbsp; Hindus predominantly cremate their dead, but ethnic minorities like the Kirat, Muslim, and Christian mostly opt for burial rituals in designated areas. For centuries there has been no problems, but this social harmony between the funeral practices of diverse faiths is now being jeopardised by the lack of space as well as recent majoritarian trends.&nbsp; The burial space for Nepal’s minorities is being increasingly encroached upon despite Nepal’s secular Constitution, and this a source of new friction between communities. One recent morning along the banks of the Hanumante in Bhaktapur, a group of men dressed in mourning attire were huddled around the flames of a funeral pyre of a dead relative. On the other bank is what looks like a parking lot, but is actually a burial site for a Hindu sect that has been living in the town for centuries.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240131110136_3c5e02eba710f97c2ef13b7078062b960755f307d4591b7ab8acc05661ca9ab2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240131110136_3c5e02eba710f97c2ef13b7078062b960755f307d4591b7ab8acc05661ca9ab2" data-rendition-name="original" width="3484" height="2250" loading="lazy" alt="life after death"> <figcaption>Hanumante Ghat</figcaption> </figure>  Rabindra Puri belongs to the Dasnami Sanyasi sect, and his forebears were ascetics who settled down in Bhaktapur and assimilated into the local Newa culture. He looks out at where his father and ancestors have been buried, and says: "Whenever I am down, or there is an important event in my life or my family, I come here and feel the energy of my father." One a recent visit to the sacred site, Puri was shocked to see a JCB earthmover levelling the area so cars could be parked where his sect used to conduct the traditional ritual of simulating their own burial. The cemetary serves as a holy place that connects the living with the dead of the Dasnami sect.&nbsp; "We do not have a say when the government decides to bulldoze over our tradition," laments Puri, who is a heritage conservation architect and activist. Recently, a young man from Puri’s community who had lost his wife a year ago came to pay his respect to her only to find a latrine was being built on top of her grave. The Ward chair was building public toilets, and got the contractor to build one over what he thought was an open space. The construction was halted, but across predominantly-Hindu Nepal ethnic groups and religious minorities are finding it more difficult to bury their dead. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240131110140_2e082ead7f8ebd7003f70320781720dce366c0ecba9d17a7d44fc2ec5aed8ce7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240131110140_2e082ead7f8ebd7003f70320781720dce366c0ecba9d17a7d44fc2ec5aed8ce7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3629" height="2403" loading="lazy" alt="life after death"> <figcaption>Graveyard of Jame Masjid near Swayambhu.</figcaption> </figure>  Kathmandu’s Muslim community have a burial site near Swayambhu. Because of the lack of space there, the Jame community has added soil 3m thick on top of the older graves to make another layer of tombs. The 0.5 hectare cemetary is used by both the Jame and Kashmiri sects, and was granted as a token by the Rana regime in exchange for part of the mosque property property in the Jamal area.&nbsp; “We haven't encountered issues since we added the elevation, but we are also hopeful that the government will listen should any problems arise in the future,” says Abdul Shamim, of Kathmandu’s Jame Masjid. The Kashmiris are seeking another burial space near Kathmandu, and the community foresees potential friction with local communities. "It is the teaching of Allah that we have to bury, not cremate, so there are two options: find space to bury or let the body flow down the river," explains Mohammed Ashraf of the Kashmiri Masjid. The Kirat community in Kathmandu has a bigger dilemma: opt for cremation or burial. While a majority of families now use the electric crematorium at Pashupati for funerals, not everyone in the community is for it and many want traditional burials.&nbsp; “But there is simply no space for a cemetary,” says Ganesh Rai, a journalist.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240131110116_07b0a883b1da32fc838254727d5f4b24075a72897469e6323c99b8f6bb87cecd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240131110116_07b0a883b1da32fc838254727d5f4b24075a72897469e6323c99b8f6bb87cecd" data-rendition-name="original" width="3468" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="life after death"> <figcaption>Shleshmantak, Pashupati where children too young to be cremated used to be buried, as were Hindu ascetics and later the Kirat and Christian population of Kathmandu. </figcaption> </figure>  In 1998, the Supreme Court imposed a ban on all burials within the premises of Pashupati, a UNESCO heritage site. The ban is temporarily lifted under certain conditions, including the use of concrete for gravestones, it was reinstated in 2011. This means ethnic groups that have recently migrated to Kathmandu are having problems for funerals. &nbsp;The Kirat people, for instance, say they have a right to bury their dead as tradition dictates, just as the increasing Christian population in the Valley who are also lobbying the government for a cemetary near Pashupati. But the lack of burial space means many Christians in Kathmandu use the electric cremation and place the ashes in urns in their churches. &nbsp;Hindus make up 81.9% of Nepal’s 30 million population with nearly 2.4 million in Kathmandu Valley alone. The Valley also has 84,000 Christians, 48,000 Kirat and 32,500 Muslims, according to the 2021 census. There is just one electric crematorium and a critical shortage of burial sites for this population. Before 1778, when the Valley’s kingdoms had their own kings and population was small, funerals for all communities were mangeable. But with the explosive urbanisation and the Valley’s population now exceeding 3.5 million, even the Hindu cremation sites are congested and face local opposition.&nbsp; The Newa people of Kathmandu had cremation sites in Shobha Bhagwati, Chabahil, Maitidevi, Shankhamul, Nakkhu and Balkumari, but these have fallen into disuse, partly due to the absence of funeral pyres and with the expansion of settlements nearby.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240131110120_1c429b764911039c94224f93460150d7b95ea8115be62193e78aa3618d3ab826.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240131110120_1c429b764911039c94224f93460150d7b95ea8115be62193e78aa3618d3ab826" data-rendition-name="original" width="3680" height="2508" loading="lazy" alt="life after death"> <figcaption>In Gangahiti in Chabahil there are two cremation spaces for the Sakya and Dangol clans. Now, there is a tandoori restaurant right behind where the cremation site used to be.</figcaption> </figure>  In Gangahiti in Chabahil there are two cremation spaces for the Sakya and Dangol clans where members have been cremated for centuries, but it is now overrun by new neighbourhoods.&nbsp; Nirmala Karmacharya has lived in Gangahiti for over 20 years, and did not even know that there was a cremation site nearby when her family built their house.&nbsp; &nbsp;“You never know when there is a creamation, and we have to shut all the windows to keep out the smell,” she says. “The government should have regulated cremation sites better.”&nbsp; During the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020, Mayor Bidya Sundar Shakya built a gas crematorium in Gangahiti, but there are still frequent clashes between mourners and residents. &nbsp; “We understand their pain, but there is already a crematorium in Pashupati. Why do they have to come here?” asks Karmacharya.&nbsp; In 2023, Gangahiti residents won the case in Patan High Court restricting the clans from &nbsp;using the cremation site. Now, there is a tandoori restaurant right behind where the &nbsp;cremation site used to be. Public litigator Sanjay Adhikari says that Gangahiti residents were well aware of the cremation site before they purchased the property, and it was unfair to the Shakya and Dangol communities to lose their ancestral creamation site.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240131110124_335508510586ca020118fefb975c71550f4d89be52eededffbb6099a6457002e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240131110124_335508510586ca020118fefb975c71550f4d89be52eededffbb6099a6457002e" data-rendition-name="original" width="3400" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="life after death"> <figcaption>The pressure on Pashupati’s cremation area has grown because other traditional sites along river banks have been overrun by the city’s expansion and are closed. </figcaption> </figure>  The few ghats at Pashupati on the banks of Bagmati cannot keep up with demand for cremations from Kathmandu’s growing population. Most days, there are long queues of distraught relatives waiting for their turn to perform the last rites. The nearby electric crematorium usually only has one furnace running and there are long waits there, too. State officials have a VIP platform for their cremations and do not have to wait. The pressure on Pashupati’s cremation area has also grown because other traditional sites along river banks have been overrun by the city’s expansion and are closed.&nbsp; “Most come to Pashupati because it is the holiest place, and also its relatively efficient service. It is not feasible to go looking for cremation pyres elsewhere,” says Rewati Raman Adhikari of Pashupati Development Trust. Mrigasthali forest is regarded as a sacred Hindu site where Lord Shiva came to attain salvation, and burials are only allowed for babies and certain ascetic sects, and funerals for other religious groups is restricted here. &nbsp; “The burial ban also has an ecological aspect to it, we want to preserve these forests, so we don’t want concrete grave stones in the jungle,” adds Adhikari. “Burials of other religions within their sacred site is also not acceptable to Hindus. We must learn to co-exist peacefully.”&nbsp; When even Hindus find it increasingly difficult to cremate their dead, the majoritarian mindset means that other religions are left to fend for themselves. Despite a secular Constitution, a glaring example of prevailing injustice is that Nepal’s minorities face exclusion even after death.&nbsp; This piece was reported in collaboration with the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal (CIJ-N).

Alisha Sijapati

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Here & Now

Life after death

In 2009, Samir Lama completed his MBBS and then passed all three stages of the United States Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE), making him eligible to practice in the US. However, he returned to Nepal in a year, opting to serve his own people instead. Lama pursued a three-year residency in General Medical Practice at the Teaching Hospital in Kathmandu sponsored by the Nick Simons Institute and was later placed at the District Hospital in Piuthan under a three-year contract. Eventually, at a medical college in Chitwan, Lama’s monthly salary was Rs80,000, a relatively meagre sum for someone with three years of post-MD work experience. Dissatisfied, he established his own polyclinic in Chitwan. But today, he is based in Britain, working as a resident physician in general practice. “There are difficulties living and working in Nepal,” Lama tells us by phone. “Becoming a doctor through civil service is difficult, and a physician’s life is financially challenging even in private practice.” In 2017, Murari Barakoti completed a one-year fellowship in Interventional Cardiology, and preferred to work in Singapore and the Maldives rather than stay in Nepal. He blames the lack of expertise-based remuneration in Nepal for his decision.&nbsp; “In the Maldives, doctors get ten to twenty times the pay they would normally get in Nepal,” says Barakoti, who is among 1,100 Nepali doctors working in the Maldives today. Ironically, many students from Maldives come to Nepal’s medical colleges for their education. Sandesh Parajuli, a government scholarship recipient for MBBS in Pakistan, worked for two years at Gandaki Provincial Hospital after he returned. In 2020, he took the medical officer exam at Lumbini Provincial Hospital, and the results are still pending. Tired of waiting, Parajuli completed his USMLE online and is now in the US. He says, “There is a sense of fulfilment serving patients in my own country, but the working environment in Nepal for doctors is not conducive. Of my 20 closest friends, only one is still working in Nepal.” It is generally known that young Nepalis are leaving the country by the tens of thousands every year for undergraduate studies in Australia, Canada or Japan. Less well known is this haemorrhage of doctors and nurses. <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="Specialists" aria-label="Grouped Bars" id="datawrapper-chart-3jT6V" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/3jT6V/1/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="600" height="492" data-external="1"></iframe></div> The depletion of medical personnel has further weakened the country’s already fragile healthcare system, and added to the shortage of specialists. Despite an annual turnover of 2,000 to 2,500 MBBS graduates, Nepal faces a severe shortage of doctors, especially in remote parts of the country. The Nepal Medical Council (NMC) has nearly 35,000 registered doctors, including 10,588 specialists. But there is no exact figure for working professionals. A 2015 study by the Council reported that approximately 36% of doctors are working abroad, but the actual proportion is estimated to be much higher.&nbsp; Doctors planning to leave are mandatorily required to present a Good Standing Certificate (GSC), and the Medical Education Commission issued 1,025 GSCs just between April to December 2023. Commission sources say the demand for GSCs has surged in the past four years.&nbsp; The majority of Nepali doctors have chosen to migrate to the UK, with 1,578 physicians acquiring certificates since 2020. The US is the second most popular destination, with 888 Nepali doctors moving there to practice in the same period. Opportunities in Australia, UAE, Canada, and Qatar are also on the rise. Sanjeev Sapkota, president of the Non-Resident Nepali Association (NRNA), estimates that of its total membership, 5,000 are doctors and medical specialists. Many others who have migrated have not bothered to become NRNA members. Worryingly, government scholarship recipients make up a rising number of migrant physicians — depriving state-run hospitals in the country of specialists. Some doctors seek improved working conditions, while others, frustrated with unemployment or exploitation in Nepal’s private hospitals, choose to start anew. They are attracted by the promise of higher earnings, and a better future for their families. 1:150,000 Completing an MBBS degree generally takes six years, and those studying on government scholarships are obligated to work in a rural hospital for an additional two years. During this period, they have no time for further study or to sit for civil service exams. However, once the commitment is fulfilled, they are left without a paying job. “Despite some incentives for further studies after MBBS, many graduates struggle because of low salaries and uncertain future prospects,” says Shambu Khanal of the Lumbini Provincial Hospital.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240128110120_63d9c40da537cbdad3dc2307a31623607227185a5768b1999359f53cc6c17b88.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240128110120_63d9c40da537cbdad3dc2307a31623607227185a5768b1999359f53cc6c17b88" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali healthcare NT"> </figure>  Postgraduate study opportunities are also hard to get due to limited annual seats of around 2,000. Additionally, a small number of subject-specific seats further complicates matters, particularly for those candidates below the top 500, barring them from pursuing preferred medical disciplines. Without government support, individuals must bear all expenses themselves, discouraging many more aspiring Nepali doctors from pursuing MD/MS degrees. This in turn is leading to a chronic shortage of specialists in Nepal. The 'Human Resources for Health (HRH) Projection in Nepal, 2079-2087' reveals a deficit of 5,779 specialists, with the annual production growth rate falling short at 6.41%, thus widening the gap in the doctor-to-population ratio. At present, there is only 1 doctor for every 850 people in the Kathmandu Valley which is better than the WHO-recommended 1 per 1,000. But this ratio goes down to 1 per 150,000 in remote districts. &nbsp;Despite depopulation of the mountain districts, there is a dire need to retain qualified medical staff in rural Nepal. The absence of diverse medical expertise, coupled with government oversight of emerging disciplines, leaves returning professionals with no acknowledgment or motivation. The country therefore faces a critical shortage of specialised doctors, particularly in cardiology, surgery, gynaecology, and neurology. A recent study by the Medical Education Commission showed a shortfall in surgeons: there are only 660 when the country needs a minimum of 808. Medical generalists face a similar deficit, with just 349 working actively against the 1,115 required. The study also foresees a demand for 1,223 medical generalists in 7 years, factoring in population growth. Doctors in specialised services in new fields face challenges due to inadequate infrastructure and equipment. Even those willing to work in government hospitals struggle to secure positions.&nbsp; Dharmagat Bhattarai, who is specialising in paediatric clinical immunology and rheumatology, says there is an urgent need for specialised doctors, especially for diagnosing and treating rare diseases in children. “After MBBS, graduates work as interns in hospitals for a year. Although hospital administrators assign them duties, they do not get adequate compensation,” says Bijay Parajuli, who specialises in pediatric critical care, rheumatology, congenital heart diseases, and neurosurgery. He adds: “In Pakistan, I received a monthly stipend of Rs44,000 after MBBS while interns in Nepal are getting only Rs9,000.” <div class="embed-block"> <iframe title="Total ‘Good Standing’ certificated from NMC" aria-label="Interactive line chart" id="datawrapper-chart-N0vyK" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/N0vyK/1/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="600" height="400" data-external="1"></iframe></div> Resident doctors pursuing MD/MS face a similar fate. Overworked doing hospital health check-ups, filling prescriptions, and handling ward responsibilities, their studies are often hampered—and all this for poor pay. While countries like the USA, UK, and Canada waive tuition fees for MD/MS programs, resident doctors in Nepal have to struggle for better remuneration. A government hospital resident earns an average of Rs48,000 monthly. However, those working in private medical colleges are compelled to work for less than Rs20,000. Some doctors say residents in private hospitals often have to work for 36 hours straight, multiple times a month. Vishad Dahal, an internal medicine student at Kathmandu Medical College, faced suspension for questioning a 20 extra-curricular health camp. His suspension has now been revoked. NMC’s &nbsp;'Regulations for Postgraduate Medical Education (MD-MS Programs) 2017' states that postgraduate residents should not be assigned duty for more than 24 hours per week. Typically, it takes an average of 12 years to complete MD, even after graduation. This means most doctors would not have finished their studies even in their early 30s. Moreover, the cost of private medical education is expensive and often exceeds Rs10 million. And after all that, there is still no job security, not to mention the years it takes to recover the investment. This prompts many to consider working or studying abroad. “The rise in Nepali doctors moving abroad demands urgent attention. While it may seem routine at first glance, the trend can potentially cause a scarcity of experts,” admits Shri Krishna Giri, past president of the Medical Education Commission. He adds: “Restricting doctors from seeking opportunities overseas may not be a practical solution. The challenge lies in finding a nuanced approach that recognises and addresses the multifaceted factors contributing to this exodus.” &nbsp; With additional reporting by Yugottam Koirala.

Grass is greener overseas for Nepal's doctors

December 2023 marked two moments of significance for Nepal: tourist numbers passed the one million mark for the first time since 2019 and we celebrated the centenary of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/1923-2023-whsle7yp">Britain-Nepal Treaty of Friendship</a>. That treaty helped establish what Nepal and the UK knew already: that Nepal was a proud independent nation. One hundred years on from 1923, we’re glad of the history the UK and Nepal share and where we are going together. Tourism and its contribution to the economy, jobs and conservation is part of that friendship and we have to thank many Nepali and British pioneers who played and continue to play a part. Tourism wasn’t always part of the UK-Nepal Friendship though. When that treaty was inked in 1923, Nepal was relatively unknown to tourists. Early British expeditions to climb Everest, including the famous one in 1924, had to approach the mountain from the north. Nepal was a 'forbidden country' for westerners until the early 1950s. The first steps of the successful expedition 70 years ago approached the mountain by unfamiliar paths, ‘starting’ in the garden of the British Embassy. Fast-forward to 2023 and nearly 53,000 Brits have visited Nepal since. Tourists can reach Base Camp in days instead of weeks. After World War II and the opening up of Nepal to foreigners, British travellers among others came to Nepal to enjoy trekking, mountaineering, and the growing hippie culture in Kathmandu. Throughout the 1960s 'Freak Street' in Kathmandu continued to draw in the English as the terminus of the Hippie Trail that started on the other side of the world in London.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240119070156_a2cbb5e27debe2630d5111f0224504be7630fbeff275c02b546486df00a32969.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240119070156_a2cbb5e27debe2630d5111f0224504be7630fbeff275c02b546486df00a32969" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="725" loading="lazy" alt="British residency"> <figcaption>British Residency at Kathmandy in 1912.</figcaption> </figure>  As pioneers in the mountaineering field, the British were always drawn to the Himalaya, making Nepal a destination at the top of many British travel lists, something that continues today. Nepal became the first country to introduce trekking and white river-rafting, and was the first Asian country to have jungle lodges. It was not long before they fell in love with the country, with its beauty and people. Some were entrepreneurs, others simply found themselves in the right place at the right time. Many have left a mark on what is today a growing industry, one vital to Nepal’s economy, and one that continues to grow as generations of Brits and Nepalis build new opportunities together. Some of those pioneers are featured here:  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240119070152_1938393dee33916d371adb3f1c10c7e96a075791df918c9c2bc89a9af7810540.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240119070152_1938393dee33916d371adb3f1c10c7e96a075791df918c9c2bc89a9af7810540" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="889" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Edwards, Prince Philip, Prince Gyanendra"> <figcaption>Then-prince Gyanendra, AV Jim Edwards and Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh in February 1986 in Chiwan.</figcaption> </figure>  AV <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828">Jim Edwards</a> found himself at a diplomatic party in New Delhi where an introduction to Prince Basundhara led to a year exploring the jungles of the Tarai. Captivated, Jim returned in 1964 and subsequently established Nepal’s first wildlife tourism company, Nepal Wildlife Adventure, offering jungle treks, fishing and hunting expeditions.&nbsp; Taking over <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/fire-in-the-afternoon-tiger-tops,846">Tiger Tops</a> in 1972, Jim played his part in Nepal’s early moves towards wildlife conservation, contributing to the efforts to convert the former Royal hunting reserve into Chitwan National Park. Today Chitwan is a global icon of nature conservation that Nepal is rightly proud of. Alongside Jimmy Roberts, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Charles-McDougal-passes-away-at-86,3034">Charles 'Chuck' McDougal,</a> <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/john-r-edwards-72-08pnmge2">John R Edwards</a>, John Blashford-Snell, Lisa Choegyal, Robin Marston, Marcus Cotton and Steve Webster, Jim contributed much to Nepali tourism.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240119070156_8dafa6d8208100ee2bea24107b008821d899eec4e2a96da5d62ab54fbca801fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240119070156_8dafa6d8208100ee2bea24107b008821d899eec4e2a96da5d62ab54fbca801fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="JOM Roberts"> <figcaption>Col JOM Roberts, Lisa Choegyal and AV Jim Edwards with Queen Elizabeth at the British Embassy Kathmandu in 1986.</figcaption> </figure>  Col JOM Roberts arrived in Nepal in 1958 as Defence Attaché at the British Embassy. By 1964 he had registered Nepal’s first trekking agency, Mountain Travel. Known as the father of trekking, Roberts was another pioneering figure in the early days of mountaineering, trekking and Nepali tourism.&nbsp; Credited with opening up some of Nepal’s extensive network of historic and ancient trading trails and high mountain villages, he apparently told Princess Anne that his bathroom in Pokhara had “the best view in the world”.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240119070156_3965cddb8c8ec8cb032315d7a3e57e5c8c20d2dfffdce2dea0e3193b7fe8ea62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240119070156_3965cddb8c8ec8cb032315d7a3e57e5c8c20d2dfffdce2dea0e3193b7fe8ea62" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="791" loading="lazy" alt="Prince Charles"> <figcaption>Pertemba Sherpa, Prince Charles, and Prince Dhirendra set off on the Royal Trek near Pokhara.</figcaption> </figure>  Jimmy’s talents led him and colleague Robin Marston to craft 'The Royal Trek' for the then Prince Charles. What started as a curated experience for the now King is still in the itinerary of many travel agents. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-lovelier-spot-than-kakani">No lovlier spot than Kakani</a>, Lisa Choegyal Lisa Choegyal, a self-declared 'restless traveller' arrived here in 1974, after a year in South East Asia, to trek in Jomsom. A chance meeting in Freak Street led her to Tiger Tops in Chitwan: she did not want to leave and would thus convince Jim Edwards to employ her in his business model combining adventure tourism with conservation.&nbsp; Looking back, Lisa feels proud of having helped put Nepal on the map and is known for promoting Nepal as a premier destination for responsible, sustainable and eco-friendly tourism, as well as for her contributions to this paper.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011908010_db37a14817f438507217eba41e9915d6d06d26458004e672657f275d718a516e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2024011908010_db37a14817f438507217eba41e9915d6d06d26458004e672657f275d718a516e" data-rendition-name="original" width="561" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Prince Charles"> <figcaption>King Charles III in 1980 setting off on the Royal Trek with Prince Dhirendra (left) and Prabal SJB Rana.</figcaption> </figure>  Born during the Blitz in London, Anthony L Jones of Encounter Overland was one of the first to operate overland tourism along the hippie trail and pioneered rural heritage tourism.&nbsp; His company, Himalayan Encounters, has prioritised the link between business and protecting rural heritage, leading to the restoration of buildings such as The Old Inn in Bandipur and the Famous Farm in Nuwakot. Tony has helped showcase the skill of local artisans, salvaging and incorporating many pieces in his buildings to give them a new life.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011908014_ab84824b3eb025adb7be4d3bc255250a368ee6076811e7e10a70b82a9001f44f.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2024011908014_ab84824b3eb025adb7be4d3bc255250a368ee6076811e7e10a70b82a9001f44f" data-rendition-name="original" width="561" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Edwards"> <figcaption>Jim Edwards and Chuck McDougal when they first took over Tiger Tops in 1972.</figcaption> </figure>  These are just a few of the many Brits who have helped build tourism here. As we celebrate 100 Years of UK-Nepal friendship, we’re proud of the partnership, and the role played by many extraordinary Britishers in developing tourism and conservation in Nepal. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/champions-of-nepal-s-conservation-movement">Champions of Nepal's conservation movement</a>, Lisa Choegyal Nepal has dubbed 2023-32 'Visit Nepal Decade' and as part of this we will look to the next generation of young Nepalis and Brits, the future pioneers in this important industry.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024011908014_40a1b83afeb5990e29e50d04713b18af53e6b7d92e3695630fc0a787c25408a5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2024011908014_40a1b83afeb5990e29e50d04713b18af53e6b7d92e3695630fc0a787c25408a5" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="jimmy roberts"> <figcaption>Col Jimmy Roberts, the pioneer of trekking, in his beloved Pokhara.</figcaption> </figure>  We will also continue to celebrate the part tourism plays; providing sustainable livelihoods, enabling people to maintain and protect the resources upon which their businesses depend, and the huge potential of high-value tourism over high-volume tourism.&nbsp; This piece is a collaboration between the Britain Nepal Society (UK) and British Embassy – based on a wider piece of research conducted on the history of British contributions to Nepali tourism.&nbsp;

British Pioneers of Tourism in Nepal

Life was already difficult for the people of the Karnali because of state neglect, failing agriculture, joblessness and out-migration. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deadly-earthquake-hits-w-nepal">earthquake two months ago</a> just made everything more arduous. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mass-cremations-for-nepal-quake-victims">6.4 magnitude earthquake</a> shook the region just before midnight, killing at least 153 people and destroying 62,000 houses in 11 districts of western Nepal. Familiar with slow delivery of government services, most surviving families have taken matters into their own hands to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/below-zero-at-ground-zero">get through the bitter winter</a> and to rebuild their lives and livelihoods. Dhan Bahadur Gharti, 55, had recently returned to Sirpachaur in Jajarkot after a year working in Kashmir, and had plans to renovate his house for Dasain. But the earthquake destroyed his house before he could repair it. "There's nothing left," Dhan Bahadur says, peering from inside his tent.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024010811014_0790bab9d5f0012d1edbb7cded438aafe350b028928052709c4f0775b7580364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024010811014_0790bab9d5f0012d1edbb7cded438aafe350b028928052709c4f0775b7580364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1163" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Dhan Bahadur Gharti</figcaption> </figure>  The unexpected destruction left his plans in disarray, but there was an immediate need to provide a warm shelter and hot food for his three children.&nbsp; He has some savings from his seasonal work in India, but after he builds a temporary house with the government reconstruction grant Dhan Bahadur expects he will have to go to India to earn more money to complete the rebuilding. Jasbir Thapa, 45, also returned from Kashmir for the Dasain holidays only to have witnessed first hand the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-quake-survivors-wait-for-kin-to-return">devastation caused by the earthquake</a>. The government's delayed aid and one-window policy compounded his worries, leaving him torn between family responsibilities and the need to migrate again to India for work to earn money.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024010811018_d09b9d75bf7b81b340ef956a0d0cd8ca09a6386a28aacced3deeaf7fd10b20f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024010811018_d09b9d75bf7b81b340ef956a0d0cd8ca09a6386a28aacced3deeaf7fd10b20f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2620" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Jasbir Thapa</figcaption> </figure>  Even after two months, the initial instalment of the Rs50,000 grant for temporary housing from Kathmandu has not reached Sirpachaur. Without jobs and earnings in Nepal, just about every one of the 150 households in Sirpachaur has at least one member working in India. It is hard manual work, and the pay is not good. Still it is more than they can hope for back home in Nepal.&nbsp; "It's the same for everyone, survival is not possible in Nepal," says Thapa, “but working in India the pay is not proportional to the hard manual work we do.” Despite the mountain of hardship on which the earthquake has heaped another layer of misery, there is a sense of community and a collective resilience with neighbours helping each other with the little they have. Villages like Chiuari in Nalgad Municipality, have come together to construct each others’ temporary shelters. They are not waiting for the first instalment of Rs25,000 to come through, but use local material and volunteer labour to help rebuild. Prasad Biswokarma got support from his fellow villagers, to erect a temporary shelter where at least his family would be protected from the bitter cold. He and the whole village are now bracing for rain and snow that is forecast for western Nepal next week.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024010811018_e6f1421cd857f98fa152774124218332772bbc46df8a0dcb5ef82163a3308cd9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024010811018_e6f1421cd857f98fa152774124218332772bbc46df8a0dcb5ef82163a3308cd9" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Neighbours have come together to build temporary shelters for each other, they are not waiting for the first instalment of Rs25,000 to come through.</figcaption> </figure>  The collective struggle for recovery extends to sharing food, blankets, firewood and other essentials. Harikala Rokaya from Pali village has been waiting for government assistance, and help from charities but it never got to where she lives, off the road. With winter setting in and aid absent, she has built her own temporary shelter from salvaged bricks and timber.&nbsp; Mayor Dammar Bahadur Raut of Nalgad Municipality admits that there is a delay in aid distribution, attributing it to bureaucratic hurdles. The allocation of reconstruction grants for temporary shelters from the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority has been marred by procedural delays mainly due to lack of coordination between various levels of government. The delay is affecting 50,000 families. In Sirpachaur too villagers have been contributing voluntary labour for fellow survivors to rebuild. Local activists, and civil society organisations have also joined hands to help the villagers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024010811018_a61bfa514e0dec0bd7d722742a4264c0a19e443d88f11246ce4ce2656dd6acbb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2024010811018_a61bfa514e0dec0bd7d722742a4264c0a19e443d88f11246ce4ce2656dd6acbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Temporary shelters in Sirpachaur.</figcaption> </figure>  “The bureaucratic delay in aid disbursement is testing the will and endurance of the affected families, and we have seen exemplary support by community-driven initiatives in this critical time of crisis,” Mayor Raut adds. Ward Chair Bir Bahadur Giri says migration to India is a safety valve, but says it also means that the men folk are away when there is reconstruction work to be done at home. Although many men who had returned for the Dasain festival and were at home when the earthquake struck will probably be staying a bit longer, sooner or later they will be going back to India.&nbsp; With the men mostly away, there are mostly women, children and the elderly left in the earthquake-ravaged villages of Jajarkot and West Rukum. Many of the children are still traumatised by the destruction of the earthquake and the loss of family memories.&nbsp; In one temporary shelter in Sirpachaur, 12-year-old Pashupati Gharti is a Grade 5 student, and still has visible signs of anxiety in his face when he remembers that fateful night. He tries his best with two elder sisters to help his family inside their tarp-roofed shelter.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024010811018_a0c8db81c646d084398671ebb96362ea758e020360887b559184c2b696d19e95.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024010811018_a0c8db81c646d084398671ebb96362ea758e020360887b559184c2b696d19e95" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Pashupati Gharti</figcaption> </figure>  "I wonder when our house will be rebuilt," he says staring listlessly into the distance, and to no one in particular. In the aftermath of the earthquake, the boy would have nightmares and missed many days of school. But time heals, and Pashupati is now determined to help with household work in the morning and go to school in the afternoon. There is not a single house intact in this village, rubble still lies in piles on streets where children play Seven Stones trying to hit a pile of stones. For the headmaster of the local school, this is a hopeful sign that the children are starting to play again as their lives return to a semblance of normalcy. The school building in Chiuri village is also damaged, and classes are held in tents or outdoors under the sun. It was fortunate that the earthquake struck at night, otherwise there may have been many casualties among students when either classrooms collapsed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024010811018_907ea0440af59be75892f398f660893e219ee810dbe29c69db6b3d30d7742a67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024010811018_907ea0440af59be75892f398f660893e219ee810dbe29c69db6b3d30d7742a67" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="533" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Classes are being held outdoors under the sun in quake affected villages.</figcaption> </figure>  The earthquake claimed the lives of 13 children in Chiuri village alone. Of the 36 killed in Rukum West, 19 were children. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/demographics-of-disaster-in-nepal-quake">Eighty-one children were among the 153 killed on 3 November</a> — more than half the fatalities. Most of the adults killed were women. Twenty-three of the children who survived lost both parents, and measures are being taken for their protection and care. Efforts are underway to provide counselling for affected children. Child Welfare Officer Pradeep Rawal says some parentless children sheltered in orphanages require more time to recover.&nbsp; In Aathbis Kot Municipality of Rukum West which saw a heavy loss of life among children, counselling is being provided to children even though schools are closed for winter holidays. Temporary school construction is underway in Jajarkot and Rukum West, where the current buildings lack proper classrooms due to building safety concerns. In certain areas, parental involvement in building temporary shelters has facilitated continued education for children. Parents' collaboration, aided by outside support, means wooden shelters have come up in some locations to ensure children have space for learning. At Himalaya Devi Basic School in Sirpachaur, parental support helps temporary management, and there is now room for 150 students when schools reopen. Mayor Raut is happy parents themselves are helping to put up temporary classrooms.

Jajarkot survivors show collective resilience

Seventy years ago, when Swiss geologist Toni Hagen explored Nepal, he had to walk because there were no roads. But the most difficult part was crossing rivers because the foot bridges either did not exist or were dangerous. Nepal’s valleys were separated from each other not just by mountains, but also by raging Himalayan rivers. Villagers asked Hagen to help bridge the gap so they could be connected to markets and to other villages.&nbsp; With the help of the Swiss government and the group Helvetas, the 10,000th trail bridge has been built, with 740 in the past year alone. Much of the original Swiss engineering design for the bridges has been passed on to Nepali companies through technology transfer. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030116_43ffea6b6e2665cbba251c258fdfba55cd272f3afaa27778ad057e8e0ceaa7fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240106030116_43ffea6b6e2665cbba251c258fdfba55cd272f3afaa27778ad057e8e0ceaa7fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>The Tindobato Chiuri Pelakot suspension bridge in Syangja.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_6947ede258eb1d6628da0ba1d69a078640b5e47d56c7d99f9c11cea798e1beb5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240106030112_6947ede258eb1d6628da0ba1d69a078640b5e47d56c7d99f9c11cea798e1beb5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1471" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>The Gandaki Golden Footbridge.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s trail bridges program is a model of how development projects can be sustainable through long-term collaborative effort. This has led to innovations that have transformed the lives of some 19 million Nepalis nationwide by reducing drudgery and travel time. More than 1 million students, farmers, health workers, trekkers and porters use the bridges every day. Even livestock use them to get to greener pastures on the other side. The program is also a testament to the power of collaboration and innovation between Nepal and Switzerland. Its success in scaling-up across the entire country and adapting it to the new local governments have magnified the benefits. &nbsp; The first trail bridges were built during the Rana period, with 29 steel bridges manufactured in Scotland erected between 1846-1950. Some of them are still standing to this day. Based on Toni Hagen’s recommendations, the Suspension Bridge Division (SBD) was set up by the government with the support from Swiss Association for Technical Assistance (SATA).&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_ca6fb395f787a9aa154add88befdea57ca7e6a7315d34c6df12d8a3388d02a17.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240106030112_ca6fb395f787a9aa154add88befdea57ca7e6a7315d34c6df12d8a3388d02a17" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>Young women cross the Bhadakhola bridge with their bicycles in Bardia.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_1df3099ef43271ed216f8bbc2589953c79b05a698774dbfc68f0592d3aead2e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240106030112_1df3099ef43271ed216f8bbc2589953c79b05a698774dbfc68f0592d3aead2e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1519" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>Before suspension bridges, many villagers crossed rivers on 'tuin' baskets dangling on wires that they pulled by hand.</figcaption> </figure>  Each bridge took three years to design and build, compared to 18 months today. Only 10 bridges were built in the 1970s and 25 in the 1980s, but things picked up after that. A milestone was the scaling-up of the Bridge Building at Local Level (BBLL) technology and community approach supported by the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC) and implemented by Helvetas in 1989. This led to 100 bridges being built every year by incorporating indigenous cable bridge technology and simpler engineering.&nbsp; The first Trail Bridge Strategy in 2006 was a major milestone as it set a national target that no citizen had to walk a detour of more than 1 hour in the absence of safe river crossing. Short Span Trail Bridges of up to 120m were constructed through Users’ Committees and Long Span Trail Bridges with longer spans needing contractors. A survey showed that Nepal needed 6,000 additional trail bridges. &nbsp;&nbsp; Nepal launched three phases of the Trail Bridge Sector Wide Approach Framework (2009-2023) under which nearly 4,000 new bridges were built with other donors also stepping in.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030116_3a71a0b0a74ef26dda2a2c664e83bd5b87afa1a706949d9472dc78cca7656047.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240106030116_3a71a0b0a74ef26dda2a2c664e83bd5b87afa1a706949d9472dc78cca7656047" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>The Upallo Timure suspension bridge in Pokhara's Hemja.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030116_a398a79b864d3fea5c7d8e23e58ad7b0287fa8fac8fdc9b13104d2dc90386259.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240106030116_a398a79b864d3fea5c7d8e23e58ad7b0287fa8fac8fdc9b13104d2dc90386259" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1499" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>Tourists cross the Bhandara Pachbhaiya suspension bridge over the Rupa Lake inPokhara.</figcaption> </figure>  After the promulgation of the new Constitution in 2015, local governments were given the responsibility of supervising new bridge construction and it saw a boom. The Swiss were still involved to backstop the local institutions despite initial scepticism that municipalities had the capacity to undertake the job. But by 2019, over 8,000 bridges had been completed, and a review showed that 2,400 more bridges would be needed to fulfil the national target before the Swiss concluded their involvement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030116_d4c2fbe7d5b043d72f7f74cc40bf497d8795233d8d307e069c88c68c759ed1f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240106030116_d4c2fbe7d5b043d72f7f74cc40bf497d8795233d8d307e069c88c68c759ed1f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>A three-wheeler crosses the Teshanpur Trail Bridge in Bardia.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_2d1a33c3d4de749a5dca66955bab8dfbd74a4e4fb47d39d20d03d39405ba3a50.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240106030112_2d1a33c3d4de749a5dca66955bab8dfbd74a4e4fb47d39d20d03d39405ba3a50" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>People herd livestock across a suspension bridge in Thule Mohar of Sunsari.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;There are significant milestones in the six decades of Swiss involvement in Nepal’s trail bridges program: Design, Engineering and Standardisations: The development of standardised short span and long span technology and construction modalities were important in building cost-effective designs that could be scaled-up throughout the country. Handbooks with specifications were produced. &nbsp; Domestic Fabrication: The Swiss Association for Technical Assistance (SATA) was instrumental in the 1960s in supporting the Nepal Industrial Development Corporation (NIDC) to establish the Balaju Yantra Shala (BYS), the first engineering workshop. Domestic fabrication of steel bridge parts eliminated the need for imports from India. Former BYS staff went on to establish private workshops outside Kathmandu for bridge parts. There are now 33 fabricators across all 7 provinces which manufacture parts for 900 bridges annually.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_779a2f20bc28da51f4f00eb7f7cccbae86db11f68f11a02d95b5c043b9952705.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240106030112_779a2f20bc28da51f4f00eb7f7cccbae86db11f68f11a02d95b5c043b9952705" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>People film Tik Tok videos on the three-way Ridi trail bridge connecting Gulmi, Palpa, and Syangja.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_9078b8b85e66e83e1ed74ee4d09d7b8e53851c3385ef3447642a77f4d321b83b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240106030112_9078b8b85e66e83e1ed74ee4d09d7b8e53851c3385ef3447642a77f4d321b83b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>The Ridi Trail Bridge</figcaption> </figure>  Main Trail Maps: The development and publication of district Main Trail and Central Service Maps through Swiss support in 1985 also contributed greatly towards the country’s overall development planning. The maps identified main and local trail networks that linked strategic central places. Domestic Galvanisation: Wooden walkway decks were the weakest component in the traditional bridge design. They needed to be replaced frequently and were replaced by galvanised steel plates in 1995. Maintenance cost was reduced. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_a3bf02f0aba3240567e53ce6c62defb65fd45956560339adc82dcbb85501a5ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20240106030112_a3bf02f0aba3240567e53ce6c62defb65fd45956560339adc82dcbb85501a5ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1780" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>Three bridges across the Kali Gandaki and its tributary in Gyadi of Kushma.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_99c1fd448ff4100d11f83431439bef2ddd9921a817c4feeb5564d2332e75fbd9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240106030112_99c1fd448ff4100d11f83431439bef2ddd9921a817c4feeb5564d2332e75fbd9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>The Gyadi bridge situated over the Modikhola in Kusma and Phalebas.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp; Foundations and Walkways: Trail bridge designs were further updated after the 2015 earthquake. Some 79 bridges were damaged out of the then 6,000 built till then. After an in-depth study of the damaged bridges, designs were refined to increase seismic resistance. Pile foundation and wider walkways in designs for the Tarai were introduced in 2009 for motorcycles and three-wheelers. Enhancing Engineering Knowledge: Elective courses were introduced at the Bachelor of Civil Engineering with academic institutions to institutionalise trail bridge building since the early 2000s with 30 students now graduating every year with trail bridge know-how. Bridge building was also introduced as a regular course for Assistant Sub-Engineers through vocational training centres. Over 6,000 local bridge crafts-persons (30% women) have been trained in trail bridge building.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106030112_9b7aa8408656b3015e77dc29119d236aca1983b67467a258e11b4beb9ec70385.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20240106030112_9b7aa8408656b3015e77dc29119d236aca1983b67467a258e11b4beb9ec70385" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="10,000 bridges NT"> <figcaption>Female engineers train to build trail bridges.</figcaption> </figure>  Quality Control and Maintenance: Quality monitoring has been formalised in the Comprehensive Manual on Monitoring of Trail Bridges since 2009. All fabricated bridge parts are assembled to ensure that they are fabricated as per the design. Cement quality is also tested, with the list of brands that have passed uploaded to the official website for reference. Currently, over 1,000 trail bridges are under construction in Nepal annually and these are monitored through four monitoring information systems. Bridges to Federalisation: Swiss technical assistance for trail bridge building ended in November 2023, and local municipalities and provinces have taken over. Provincial Technical Assistance Providers (PTAPs) will work with provincial governments to continue providing technical assistance and monitoring for bridge construction independently. Provinces now have their own Trail Bridge Strategy which has increased the target to bring the detour time for people walking for essential services to 30 minutes (from the previous 1 hour) in the National Strategy. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Adapted from Trail bridge evolution in Nepal: Scaling up to reach the 10,000th bridge, Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC).

10,000 bridges

Bijay Prakash Netuwa, 40, has been to Saudi Arabia twice. But all the money he earned was not enough to pay off his debts, and build a house for his family of six or prevent his wife and daughter from continuing their ancestral occupation of begging. The Netuwa people are nomadic people who roamed across northern India and are now settled in Lumbini and Madhes Provinces in Nepal’s Tarai plains. Some 56 families have made Shuddhodhan Rural Municipality here their home, a 45-minute drive from the Buddha’s nativity site. Legally, Netuwa people do not own land but here they have built thatched huts in an area allocated by the government. But they still roam the surrounding villages with their families, striking camp to perform music and dance in return for rice and money. Afterwards, the children go to school. “We have no land, no property, but what’s the point of raising children and educating them if they are going to end up begging like us,” points out Mantola Netuwa, 38, wife of Bijay Prakash. “Even the clothes we wear are hand me downs.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020144_ed08c4ecf6cf2a5ad90c695592d90233b5b6e4a99f9bbb8804befbcf1bd11c02.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240106020144_ed08c4ecf6cf2a5ad90c695592d90233b5b6e4a99f9bbb8804befbcf1bd11c02" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>The Netuwa people set up camps. They still roam surrounding villages to perform music and dance in return for rice and money.</figcaption> </figure>  Bijay Prakash takes every day labour job he comes across, but is not enough to make ends meet. He does not yet have a voter ID. He has built a one room house, but it does not even have a real door and or windows yet. It is dark inside, the kitchen’s mud stove is outside with a makeshift roof. There is no toilet, no running water.&nbsp; Just across from the Netuwa home is a more prosperous looking concrete house. Sati Prasad Yadav, 47, and Deepa Bhurtel, 40, have a toilet, running water, cable tv and even wifi. They vote in elections, and plan to add a fridge in the kitchen. The couple has a son in India who sends money home to his parents regularly, and makes video calls on their smartphone. They rely on Facebook and YouTube for news. Deepa is educated enough not to want to change her surname after she had an inter-ethnic marriage with Sati Prasad. The Netuwa and Yadav-Bhurtel families are just separated by a path, but they represent the layers of marginalisation within Nepali families living in the periphery. They are coexisting, but are worlds apart. Much of the rest of this village is made up of 200 of the 1,300 Netuwa people in Kapilvastu and Rupandehi districts bordering India. They speak Avadhi and Hindi but the younger school-going generation now also speak Nepali.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020144_c9d16df043def265f4e9628490c89ba2bdc920bb75f3a18faeafda0f2c96c56f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240106020144_c9d16df043def265f4e9628490c89ba2bdc920bb75f3a18faeafda0f2c96c56f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>Bijay Prakash Netuwa and Mantola Netuwa with their daughter.</figcaption> </figure>  At present, the government recognises Netuwa as Madhesi Dalits and the last census put their number at 2,896. But that number also includes populations in Bara, Parsa, Sarlahi and Nawalparasi who, interestingly, have identified themselves as Muslim. The community has pinned its hopes on being listed as one of Nepal government’s endangered indigenous communities, which they believe will make them eligible for government grants and facilities. Netuwas are doubly marginalised since they are also ostracised for their ‘begging’ tradition. The community is trying to move away from its ancestral occupation, and some are playing music at weddings and festivals instead to make a living. Others harvest wild honey or have become experts at rescuing snakes.&nbsp; “For as long as I remember, for all of our six generations, we have been begging. But for the first time my son got a job as a teacher under quota system, only to be fired three years later,” says Prahlad Netuwa of Mayadevi Municipality. “We have no voice, we have no jobs and the government in Kathmandu, K P Oli, Prachanda, they only want votes. They do not care for people on the margins like us.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020144_39afdffc4496130a8bee72db2aec480e151bf9a661a6fca7e3fe9526f7f904d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240106020144_39afdffc4496130a8bee72db2aec480e151bf9a661a6fca7e3fe9526f7f904d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>The Netuwa and Yadav-Bhurtel families are just separated by a path.</figcaption> </figure>  Krishna Netuwa, 17, completed his Grade 10 but was not able to get a certificate because he did not even have Rs3,000 for the fee. Krishna had been begging most of his life, but also does occasional construction jobs, making about Rs500 on such days. His parents do not have jobs, and he takes care of six younger sisters and a small brother.&nbsp; “People curse at us, ask us why we have reduced ourselves to begging when we can work, &nbsp;but only we know the pain of having to beg despite being educated, it is killing us internally,” he says. “But we have no support system, least of all not from this uncaring government.” Elsewhere in the neighbouring villages of Motibhar and Ganariya, almost every family has someone in the Gulf, Malaysia or India. Most of the houses here are concrete and freshly painted, some with perimeter walls and black metal gates. Amrik Kumar, 27, is preparing to go to Qatar as a plumber, and has taken Rs300,000 to afford an air ticket and pay the recruiter. He worked in a furniture company in Malaysia for seven years previously. “I bought some land with the money I earned in Malaysia and built a nice home for my family,” says Kumar who is now a father of a daughter and two sons as he takes us to his new house, a one-storey concrete structure. Next to the building lies a thatched roof where his elderly parents still live.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020148_6469a1bd0c041e26ae5e36ca5de96547be1e5c07ed0d0becea9ec5b2b968389a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240106020148_6469a1bd0c041e26ae5e36ca5de96547be1e5c07ed0d0becea9ec5b2b968389a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>Amrik Kumar wants to go to Qatar as a plumber.</figcaption> </figure>  Kumar’s oldest brother passed away due to a sudden heart attack a couple of years ago forcing his young sons to grow up early. Both of them are now working in India. The rest of Kumar’s brothers are also in the Gulf or Malaysia. Remittance money has also allowed families here in this Chamar and Harijan Dalit communities to afford boarding schools for their sons that cost Rs1,100 per month. Girls are also educated and even outspoken, they tell visitors frankly about the lack of teachers in their colleges. They say they are getting their lessons on YouTube instead. Most want to pursue higher studies but child marriage is still prevalent. The boys mostly drop out of school for jobs abroad. “We still face discrimination for being Dalit, even in school, although not as visible as it was back then,” says 18-year-old Mamata Harijan. “But as girls, we are discriminated against in our own home, boys are sent to private boarding schools. We aren’t.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020144_d3b05c3736a7c1f305ebb390464865303e82b762a33a72caa9e15aa1f8ea28aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240106020144_d3b05c3736a7c1f305ebb390464865303e82b762a33a72caa9e15aa1f8ea28aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>Mina Harijan, 20, with her three-year-old daughter. Her husband, also 20, is unemployed and alcoholic. Child marriage is still prevalent in these parts of Madhes.</figcaption> </figure>  Unlike Netuwa, Chamars are not landless but they cannot cultivate their land because of a chronic water shortage. The water in the wells is not sufficient even for daily household use, let alone irrigation. They know this is happening because those with pumps are overusing the ground water.&nbsp; Villages here have been demanding for quality education in public schools and colleges, employment for women, irrigation and quality healthcare as alternatives to labour migration at high-interest loans but the government has ignored their voices, they say. Because the nearby health post and even the hospital do not have anything more than basic drugs, locals also have to go to India and spend a fortune on medical treatment. &nbsp; Says retired teacher Ram Prasad Baran: “This country has had so many governments, several constitutions but have they ever been for us? This is a country run by upper caste people for their own interests.” <h2>Dalits and Muslims bear the brunt of statelessness</h2> Their forefathers were dacoits, now this is a village full of migrant workers. Jhijha village 17km away from the Indian border in Nepal’s southern plains is going through perhaps its most dramatic demographic shift in its history.&nbsp; Too much water in the monsoon and too little in the dry season has made agriculture less vaiable for a majority of farming families here. Wages for daily labour is too little, and there are no other jobs going.&nbsp; Many have migrated to India, and those who can pay recruiters have gone to the Gulf or Malaysia. But for the largely uneducated Dalits and Muslims at the bottom of the socio-economic ladder it is a struggle. “At the very least if the flooding in the area could be controlled, we can till our own lands and increase productivity. Maybe an embankment or irrigation,” says local Dalit leader Jay Prakash Paswan. “We have been left to our own devices, the government hasn’t given us anything, they just built us a temple. If anyone has built anything here it is because of their earning from abroad.” Social ostracisation and discrimination make matters worse, especially for the community’s women. Child marriage is common. Parents fear that exposure to social media will lead their daughters to elope, so they marry them off early. Underage couples are unable to register their marriage and births of children, which means they cannot get citizenship papers and jobs. The nearest hospital is quite a distance away, most women give birth at home.&nbsp; For most of the young men here, labour migration is the only option they see to uplift their standard of living. But even then, they do not have money of their own to afford to go abroad. They borrow from local loan sharks who charge them very high interest rates. “We need to pay Rs400,000 to manpower people for an overseas jobs, but we don’t make that kind of money here, and we do not have skills,” says Biswonath Paswan. “Even when migrant workers come back they are still paying interest. So we end up going to India for menial jobs.” Rabi Paswan, 20, has finished high school but sees no prospect for himself in the village and wants to go to India to make something of himself. He says: “I have no job, nothing. Most of my friends have left, or are planning to.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020144_e2a1db39ab50bf3620a2456a881d23566b12d578b2407bb058c87c38cfa4b57e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240106020144_e2a1db39ab50bf3620a2456a881d23566b12d578b2407bb058c87c38cfa4b57e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>Rabi Paswan has finished high school and wants to go to India to earn money.</figcaption> </figure>  Tarai is not geographically remote like Karnali or Far West but what holds the Madhes Province back is gender discrimination and an entrenched caste system. Female literacy is also lowest in the whole of Nepal. Jhijha is made up of 85 Dalit and 20 Mahara families coexisting together. Many people in the bordering towns of Nepal’s Tarai still do not have citizenship. In Lohan, a predominantly Muslim community, a local explained with tears in his eyes how district bureaucrats demanded Rs20,000 for citizenship papers. “I’m a farmer, I barely make enough to meet my family’s demands. How could I pay that much for something that should have been my birthright?” asks Mohammad Kalam , 43. “They said I can get a citizenship card in two days if I paid that amount. A Nepali has to pay for his own citizenship, what kind of country are we living in?”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240106020148_f4e39654f81f7f61fa0687ab7fee9a4ef0d56424170a0831f4889bfe609ed64a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240106020148_f4e39654f81f7f61fa0687ab7fee9a4ef0d56424170a0831f4889bfe609ed64a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="The marginalised on the margins NT"> <figcaption>The increasing influence of Hindutva has increased tension between Hindu and Muslim communities in the Tarai.</figcaption> </figure>  Across Nepal, the voice for a Hindu state is gaining momentum with increasing influence from across the border in India where Prime Minister Narendra Modi is contesting the 2024 general election on the Hindutva platform. The effect of that is already palpable here in the border region. Leaders in Nepal have further inflamed the situation, leading to a volatile mixture of religion and politics, and in turn, increased tension between Hindu and Muslim communities in the Tarai.&nbsp; “Never before had we faced communal discrimination, for as long as we remember Hindus and Muslims have coexisted harmoniously but now we fear for our safety,” says Mohammad Mubarak Hussain, adding that easy access to India makes it also easier to bring in pro-Hindutva elements from across the border. He adds: “There are extremists in both religions making things worse. But this is when we really need our government to calm things down, not to take political benefit from stoking religious tensions.”&nbsp; Sonia Awale in Janakpur

The marginalised on the margins

Like any mother, Sharmila Chadara just wanted to get home to see her child. It was this primal urge, and other unrelated factors, that directly resulted in her death on the night of 24 November. It was easy for journalists to assume that she had died from ‘the cold’ following the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deadly-earthquake-hits-w-nepal">earthquake on the night of 3 November</a> that killed 150 people outright in Jajarkot and Rukum West. Many of Sharmila’s neighbours in Ward 4 of Nalgad Rural Municipality and the surrounding mountains were forced to sleep outdoors after their houses collapsed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150116_b6edcb6e1b6f52540dfdbc84bdbc23a1701dc9b1f113b7d5da30cf7f8e277898.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240102150116_b6edcb6e1b6f52540dfdbc84bdbc23a1701dc9b1f113b7d5da30cf7f8e277898" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Jajrkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Damaged homes in Nalgad, Ward 1. Many locals are living in tents, below. All photos: MARTY LOGAN</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150116_d992b10f8725c5d0415191b0606b33f23c2cff8941e495199a2cea5528542da6.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240102150116_d992b10f8725c5d0415191b0606b33f23c2cff8941e495199a2cea5528542da6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Tents in Nalgad Municipality, Ward 1, Jajarkot. Occupants had their houses destroyed or damaged in the November 3 earthquake.</figcaption> </figure>  A local politician was quoted saying that Sharmila had become the latest post-earthquake victim because she was sleeping under a flimsy plastic sheet as night temperatures dropped. The <a href="https://annapurnapost.com/story/447108/">news was picked up by the media</a>, and there was outrage across the country. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/jajarkot-one-month-after-the-earthquake">Jajarkot: One month after the earthquake</a>, Ramu Kharel and Maggie Doyne Had she survived, Sharmila Chadara would probably be sleeping inside the tiny home of her husband Dinesh in Nalgad located down a dusty path, a 15-minute walk from a narrow road. It was damaged but is habitable.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150116_1e7562050e0b55135f28e96726d6a003c699dbf02214b3849c38e64540b7cfd8.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240102150116_1e7562050e0b55135f28e96726d6a003c699dbf02214b3849c38e64540b7cfd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>The home where Sharmila Chadara lived in Nalgad Municipality. It was damaged in the earthquake but is still habitable.</figcaption> </figure>  Dinesh, 26, sheltered from the sun against the house as he told us about Sharmila’s final trip home. It was on Dasain Tika day in early November when Sharmila felt labour pains and they took a vehicle down to the local hospital.&nbsp; There were no doctors and the couple was advised to go to the hospital in Khalanga, where doctors in turn referred them to Surkhet. Sharmila had twins and it would be a risky delivery.&nbsp; In Surkhet, she delivered the first baby, a girl. The boy was born lifeless. The doctors advised them to keep the girl in the hospital so she would gain weight. After five days, staff noticed that Sharmila, who till then seemed healthy, developed a cough. They diagnosed severe pneumonia and put her in the ICU. But fluid built up in Sharmila’s lungs and she underwent dialysis, recalled Sakuntala Sapkota, the matron at the Surkhet hospital. “She had many ups and downs,” Sapkota told me. Sharmila had five dialysis treatments as she was shuttled back and forth between ICU and the general ward. At one point a doctor told Dinesh and relatives they might not be able to save Sharmila because her body was “completely infected”. After nearly three weeks, Sharmila had enough. She was missing her son and wanted to return to Jajarkot. But staff urged her to stay two more weeks until she was fully recovered. In Ladakh Three years earlier, Sharmila had travelled to Ladakh where Dinesh was working, as were her own parents. It is normal for at least one member of each household in Jajarkot and surrounding districts to migrate for work in India and beyond. Increasingly, many are taking illegal routes destined for the US. In Athbiskot Municipality we met one woman whose brother had been gone a year, and had only made it to Turkey after paying traffickers Rs10 million.&nbsp; Sharmila stayed and worked alongside her husband at a cement factory in Ladakh, returning for the first time this past Dasain. Dinesh remembers her falling ill in India and coughing up blood. A local doctor diagnosed it as ‘weakness’ and gave her medicine.&nbsp; “But she didn’t finish it,” her husband told us. “She never finished medicine, even vitamins. I don’t know why she was like that.” A neighbour remembers Sharmila as being honest and friendly. She did not like working in Ladakh, she added, but the pressure to earn money must have been strong. At the hospital in Surkhet, Sharmila threatened to pull out her IV drip, remove her oxygen mask, and die in her hospital bed if she was not taken home. Dinesh relented and booked an ambulance for the family’s return trip to Nalgad. The oxygen ran out on the way. “I was not even sure if she was breathing,” he recalled. When they reached the hospital emergency in Radi Bazar at 2AM her vital signs were nil, staff told him. Sharmila had died. Dinesh wanted to take her home. He hired a vehicle to carry her to the foot of the hill and rounded up people in the dead of night to carry her on a stretcher, reaching home at 4AM. Sharmila was finally reunited with her son.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150120_2713c13b4d2ba22fe28bc1bf96cfbcfd87a7ede9cc67678b67d69efbe4a4d851.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240102150120_2713c13b4d2ba22fe28bc1bf96cfbcfd87a7ede9cc67678b67d69efbe4a4d851" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Dinesh Chadara with his son Ganesh at home in Nalgad Municipality recently.</figcaption> </figure>  Dinesh told us he has not made up his mind about returning to work in India. His in-laws have given him Rs150,000 to pay medical bills and he has borrowed more, but was still in debt. Sharmila’s baby has been released from hospital, and continues to gain weight and get routine vaccinations.&nbsp; Left out in the cold When we visited Jajarkot and Rukum West nearly two months after the earthquake, survivors were still living in tents and plastic shelters.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150124_1efe377bce5e1b8b264308d2378871aba0fc34c13046cabc6fffbdb940c7bb86.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240102150124_1efe377bce5e1b8b264308d2378871aba0fc34c13046cabc6fffbdb940c7bb86" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>A health post destroyed in Chinabagar, Ward 1, Rukum West.</figcaption> </figure>  A female community health volunteer (FCHV) in Athbiskot told us she was having trouble finding a good tent for a mother just discharged from a health facility with her newborn. Up the mountain, we reached the house of Seema Chand Malla, 28, who was eight months pregnant. Her brother-in-law was hammering together a door for a wooden shelter while waiting for the government’s Rs 50,000 temporary shelter allowance. Sitting on a windy ridge, Seema said: “It’s very cold, but so far we're OK – let’s see what happens.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/below-zero-at-ground-zero">Below zero at ground zero</a>, Durga Rana Magar Like many women we spoke to, Seema seemed to be receiving some, but not all, routine health services. She had gone for six pre-birth (ANC) visits, was taking calcium and iron supplements regularly and had been given medicine to prevent worms. As one of her three children, a son, played on her lap, she said her health was good. The local FCHV used to visit to provide vitamins or information about the children’s health, but Seema had not seen her since the earthquake. The family had received one blanket, a small tent, 25kg of rice and some buckets from the government and various agencies. When we returned from Seema Chand’s house four tractors arrived towing carts piled high with sleeping mats, rice and other goods. We saw such relief deliveries mixed with various stages of reconstruction work across the affected areas.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/demographics-of-disaster-in-nepal-quake">Demographics of disaster in Nepal quake</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150116_7f6c045a4fccc3bb87f6746e702f4db8362b2cfd1d960c55e6ed326fe2bca183.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20240102150116_7f6c045a4fccc3bb87f6746e702f4db8362b2cfd1d960c55e6ed326fe2bca183" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Seema Chand Malla, with her son, in Aathbiskot, Ward 14.</figcaption> </figure>  In Radi Bazar a crowd had gathered to get the forms needed to apply for government cash for shelters.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mass-cremations-for-nepal-quake-victims">The damage</a> seemed mostly random, with single houses on village roads reduced to rubble, but there were also whole clusters of homes that had fallen. On a slope overlooking the scenic, glacier-fed aquamarine Bheri River, there was a line of orange and blue tents. New mother Samjhana Bitalu, 19, crawled out from one of them to tell us that her house nearby was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/grief-stricken-survivors-are-cold-and-hungry">damaged in the earthquake</a> and uninhabitable.&nbsp; She and her 55-days-old baby Monika were staying here with her husband, who did not want to leave them alone to return to his job in Khalanga. Samjhana said she gave birth at a nearby health post, but no staff visited her afterwards. The only help the family had received was a tent and 25kg of rice from the Ward office.&nbsp; “When it rains it’s hard to keep the baby dry because the water comes inside the tent, and she has diarrhoea,” the mother said. Following local custom, she did not think the baby should receive any treatment before she was two months old. But a health worker urged Samjhana to get medical care for the baby. “It’s more difficult because I have to manage everything alone,” Samjhana said stoically. “Otherwise, everyone would have been together at home.” Nearby, Amrita Gharti, 22, was still living in her in-laws’ house with her husband. She was almost two months pregnant.&nbsp; Amrita previously had a miscarriage, despite being told by ANCs that she was healthy. This time, arriving at her local birthing facility for her first checkup, she was told to return when she was exactly two months pregnant. “They didn’t do my checkup. They were too busy,” she said.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240102150120_e6d6fd29a04a5c3fa20fc6bd50c2236287fce0b7ddce0e508fefb329644ecf91.png" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20240102150120_e6d6fd29a04a5c3fa20fc6bd50c2236287fce0b7ddce0e508fefb329644ecf91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Jajarkot earthquake"> <figcaption>Amrita Gharti is pregnant and living in her in-laws' house in Nalgad, Ward 1.</figcaption> </figure>  Aruna Chaudhary of the Radha Paudel Foundation spent two weeks in Nalgad providing menstrual kits to 450 women and adolescent girls.&nbsp; Demand for her support was great and the cold was especially hard on children, she told us.&nbsp; “Many children have pneumonia and cholera and have to take medicine,” she added. “There was lots of diarrhoea and many had injuries from the earthquake itself.”&nbsp; Pneumonia and other cold-related illnesses were also growing in Chinabagar where lack of water and sanitation was worsening the situation, especially for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/remove-barriers-to-life-saving-drug-to-prevent-maternal-deaths">women and adolescent girls</a>. Dhani Kumar Giri from the group WOREC was assisting arrivals at a tent while the group also provided care door-to-door. In a nearby tent an organization was providing psychological counselling to those troubled by the disaster. Some good news Around noon on 6 December, Man Kumari Singh arrived with labour pains at the health post in Athbiskot-4 of Jajarkot. She was pregnant with twins, but had been declared healthy during previous visits to the facility. But by 4PM her labour had not progressed and Man Kumari was starting to shake in distress. Staff decided to request a helicopter rescue, but by the time permission was granted from Kathmandu it was too late in the day.&nbsp; Health post staff decided to send her to the municipal hospital in Dali, but doctors there referred her to the mission hospital in Chaurjahari instead. They sent an ambulance carrying two nurses to accompany her. At 1AM that night Man Kumari’s twins were delivered normally. By noon she had been transferred to the ICU at the provincial hospital in Surkhet. Soon after she was moved to the general ward and by 19 December she had recovered and been discharged. The twins were also reported to be in good health. Author thanks One Heart Worldwide for arranging logistics for reporting on this story.&nbsp;

Poverty killed a mother, not the quake

I was born in the little village of Chepka on the old trading trail in Dolpo. Even since I was a boy, I used to see the yaks and mules go up and down the path, and an increasing number of foreign trekkers and their porters. I always yearned to see the world beyond the narrow valley to a wider horizon. We started the Gateway Inn located at the night stop point between Jufal airfield and Phoksundo, and business was getting better until the pandemic.&nbsp; I went to Austria to work for two summers at the Gesäuse National Park, and that augmented my income plus gave me a lot of exposure into ecotourism. Trekking traffic is picking up again in Dolpo, so I do not need to go to Europe anymore. Tourist footfall would increase if Dolpo was taken off the restricted area list. Because of this rule, foreign trekkers have to pay $500 per day for a 10-day trek plus $50 for every extra day to the Department of Immigration. That is in addition to the daily $150 for the trek itself, the Rs3,000 Shey Phoksundo National Park fee and the higher air fares for foreigners from Kathmandu to Jufal via Nepalganj. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/time-catching-up-with-timeless-dolpo">Time catching up with timeless Dolpo</a>, Alton C. Byers All this adds up to make Dolpo more expensive than the Everest or Annapurna trails, and only the most adventurous (or well to do) come to Dolpo. Even reducing the Dolpo restricted area fee by half could double the meagre 600 trekkers who visit the national park at present every year. I learnt a lot while in Austria. For example, the signage along the hiking trails are very well laid out so it is impossible to get lost. There is a lot of information along the paths about the animal and plant life, and to identify surrounding peaks and landmarks. There is an effort to minimise the impact of tourism. The Austrians also do not build roads unnecessarily so as to preserve their wilderness. And that is something we could emulate here in Dolpo, where there is a road-building spree going on. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/new-high-way-to-dolpo">New High Way to Dolpo is not good news for trekkers</a>, Sonam Choekyi Lama  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1386" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo road network NT"> </figure>  Till recently, Dolpo and Humla were the only two districts in Nepal without motorable roads. Interestingly, Dolpo is better connected to China at the moment than to the rest of Nepal. Dolpo is located on the trans-Himalayan plateau, and is Nepal’s biggest district by area, but has a population of only 45,000. That might change with the Bheri Corridor which has already reached the district capital of Dunai. One can now travel from Surkhet to Tallo Bazar in 12 hours, cross the footbridge over the Bheri, and transfer to another jeep up to Dunai in 6 hours over very rough roads. Despite this being a national pride project, progress is rather slow. Still, for locals, this gives an alternative to the expensive and irregular flights from Jufal to Nepalganj. From Dunai, the Bheri highway is supposed to go on to the Chinese border at Marim La via Dho Tarap and Tinje. Some sections already have motorcycles plying on them, while the already built stretch from Dunai to Laisikap got washed away by floods a few years ago. It used to take a whole day for locals and two days for trekkers to walk from Saldang to Dho crossing the Chyala La and Jyanta La at over 5,300m. On a motorcycle it now takes just two hours. Once the track from Kagbeni via Charkha Bhot is opened, it will be easier to travel to Upper Dolpo via Mustang than up the Bheri highway from Surkhet. Last year, a tractor already climbed up from the Kali Gandaki to Dho, and there are dozers already at work. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dazzling-dolpo">Dazzling Dolpo</a>, Sonam Choekyi Lama Post-Covid and before international tourism resumed, the trail from Dunai to Phoksundo was filled with Nepali vloggers and TikTok trekkers. This propped up the local economy since the Nepalis tended to spend more money in the villages than foreign trekking groups. If only they did not bring along their loud music, everything would be fine.&nbsp; The view is divided about whether roads are good or bad for Dolpo. They have made it easier and cheaper for the sick to be taken to city hospitals for treatment, or for the annual winter migration south. However, there are worries about the theft of religious objects, as well as the destruction of chorten and mani walls by bulldozers. The road network will inevitably spread in Dolpo in the coming years, so we might as well be prepared to minimise its impact, especially on tourism. The roads more or less follow the former trekking routes, which themselves were once the yak trails used by traders, as depicted in Eric Valley’s documentary Caravan in the 1980s. All these roads also make it less tenable to justify the high restricted area fees. The Shey Phoksundo Rural Municipality is trying to make sure that a road is not built up the Suligad River, so that the lake, the Bon Po monastery in Pungmo and the southern part of the national park will only be for wilderness hiking. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/bon-voyage">Bon voyage</a>, Sonam Choekyi Lama Norbu Lama is an ecotourism operator in Dolpo and runs the Gateway Inn in Chekpa. <a href="mailto:norbulama125@gmail.com" target="_blank">norbulama125@gmail.com</a> Facebook: Norbu O Positive

The road less travelled in Dolpo

In 1973, the writer Peter Matthiessen spent two months trekking in this remote trans-Himalayan region of western Nepal with wildlife biologist George Schaller. The trip was made legendary by his 1976 book, The Snow Leopard.&nbsp; In it, he documented his pursuit of Zen Buddhism at a time of personal loss, Schaller’s pursuit of blue sheep and snow leopards to justify setting up a new wildlife reserve, and a timeless land that hadn’t changed much in 800 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_5539fce28afa4b839fe493c238965417b8e26bb8447e4ab337c35c8c8e88f0c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20231229111220_5539fce28afa4b839fe493c238965417b8e26bb8447e4ab337c35c8c8e88f0c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 1/2"> <figcaption>(Left) Ringmo village in 1993. The traditional, flat-roofed, rammed earth houses had changed little in the preceding 800 years when this photograph was taken. (Right) Ringmo village on 30 May 2023. Remarkably, little change has occurred in the interim with the exception of a few more traditional houses. Road access in the very near future will assuredly bring with it new building materials (i.e., concrete), architectural styles, and new hotels to take advantage of the beauty of the nearby Phoksundo Lake. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_afa4e31e9826f7a974890dbd50b4a6f8b61f2c120b4fb3d32ac1c1eb67e99567.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231229111220_afa4e31e9826f7a974890dbd50b4a6f8b61f2c120b4fb3d32ac1c1eb67e99567" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 3/4"> <figcaption>(Left) Chorten near Phoksundo lake in 1971. (Right) The same chorten near Phoksundo lake on 30 May 2023 showing practically no major changes having had occurred, with the exception of a new paint job, in the interim. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111228_2f582bd6366a0261a662704958b042b13a7f3be7e31dce5b9128bf7ba16aafed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231229111228_2f582bd6366a0261a662704958b042b13a7f3be7e31dce5b9128bf7ba16aafed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 5/6"> <figcaption>(Left) Bridge near Ringmo village in 1971. (Right) The same bridge near Ringmo village on 30 May 2023, some 52 years later. Such traditional wooden bridges have been replaced with steel throughout much of the rest of Nepal. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  There were no tourist lodges, the trails were primitive and exposed, food was scarce, and given their late November start the weather was unpredictable and uncertain.&nbsp; Shey Phoksundo National Park was established 11 years after Matthiessen's trek. But even though Dolpo had been ‘discovered’ by adventure tourists much earlier, it has still remained comparatively inaccessible and mysterious because of its remoteness, and expense. Only 600 tourists visited in 2022.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111224_b01f7a3719daf2834c6b4d31799911df35d3ce7b8128816c9e449b488850685d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231229111224_b01f7a3719daf2834c6b4d31799911df35d3ce7b8128816c9e449b488850685d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 7/8"> <figcaption>(Left) Bon Gompa near Ringmo and Phoksundo lake in 1993. (Right) Bon Gompa on 30 May 2023, showing virtually no change from the 1993 image with the exception of several structures having been painted in red. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111216_1665201aeb35844444707e95b4a02f1e627baf182699275db75ceeaf382a4e02.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231229111216_1665201aeb35844444707e95b4a02f1e627baf182699275db75ceeaf382a4e02" data-rendition-name="original" width="2900" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 9/10"> <figcaption>(Left) Bon Gompa in 1993. The purple colour on the distant hillslopes and deep blue colour of the lake are most likely the result of colour saturation of the original slide film, as well as age. (Right) Several new buildings had since been constructed at the Bon Gompa when this photograph was taken on 30 May 2023 that partially obscure the foreground. The village of Ringmo, to the left in the background, appears to be more densely tree covered than it was 40 years ago. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_1a162841d53fd30941204eb7a28a6cf84ac78b0e8769d6f95aa8bbed3197f9f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20231229111220_1a162841d53fd30941204eb7a28a6cf84ac78b0e8769d6f95aa8bbed3197f9f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1400" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 11/12"> <figcaption>(Left) Four young lamas walk along a trail at the Bon Gompa in 1993. (Right) Photograph taken on 30 May 2023 of new structures built in the interim show parts of the 1993 view partially obscured. All four of the young lamas are now senior lamas in Kathmandu. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;This, however, is about to change. Mustang and Dolpo are increasingly being connected by roads, and every major village within Shey Phoksundo National Park will soon be linked Between May-July 2023 my wife Elizabeth and I spent 40 days trekking in upper Dolpo, photographing wild flowers for the Godavari Botanical Gardens (including the first photograph of the rare Primula ramzanae ever taken), making plaster casts of snow leopard pugmarks for the Natural History Museum, and noting the impact of yarsagumba harvesters upon the fragile, high-altitude landscapes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_adcf95099774d11f754f7f5a9bf62138fa42885a26a61e9fbc43e1e096512449.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231229111220_adcf95099774d11f754f7f5a9bf62138fa42885a26a61e9fbc43e1e096512449" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1400" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 13/14"> <figcaption>(Left) Porter on the trail above Phoksundo lake in 1971. (Right) Jitendra Rai above Phoksundo lake on 1 June 2023. The lookout point with green roof in the background is the only real change that has occurred since Reinhard’s photo was taken in 1971. The lakeshore region in the background, however, will most likely be converted to a tourist hub with the coming of the new road, replacing traditional architecture with new homes and hotels made of cement, hotel-based as opposed to adventure tourists, automobiles, buses, and other modern amenities. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_ac2d5bbf8d482f56b547c6ca9ab4332256888bf2149326580fec508561565a5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20231229111220_ac2d5bbf8d482f56b547c6ca9ab4332256888bf2149326580fec508561565a5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 15/16"> <figcaption>(Left) Porters on the trail above Phoksundo lake in 1993. (Right) Trail above Phoksundo lake on 1 June 2023. Little appears to have changed in the landscape since 1993, although the dangerous and exposed trails described by Matthissien in 1976 (some of which he crawled over on all fours) have since been improved. Yaks and mules, however, routinely fall to their deaths at certain narrow points. This section from Ringmo, crossing the 6,000m+ pass to Shey Gompa, might remain as a trekking trail. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_db0d239e5c262395b269309171dade512de245f9b336de5076e838d62d24832f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20231229111220_db0d239e5c262395b269309171dade512de245f9b336de5076e838d62d24832f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 17/18"> <figcaption>(Left) View to the north-east above Phoksundo lake in 1993. The extremely deep blue of the lake may be a result of colour saturation of the original slide film, and age. (Right) The same view photographed on 1 June 2023, with little evident change having occurred in the interim. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  We also replicated 16 photographs of the villages and landscapes taken by noted anthropologist Johan Reinhard in 1971 and 1993 to assess the changes that had occurred. Dolpo is still described as a roadless region by trekking agencies, available literature and websites. But new roads are planned and/or under construction from the Chinese border to Chakra Bhot, across to Saldang, down to Dho Tarap, and on out to Jomsom.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1386" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo road network NT"> </figure>  Contoured ‘mountain bike’ trails have been excavated by local communities from village to village to help bulldozers, which will link the remotest settlements within a few years. The Shey Gompa monastery featured in Matthiessen’s book will be linked as will Phoksundo Lake.&nbsp; Our original trek route had to be drastically revised as a result, as we played ‘dodge the new road’ to stay on traditional trade and trekking trails in upper Dolpo.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111216_1ec923e67778e2f3cdf52e5597e4d9ea3da13394a73026523331b52c2f7a852f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20231229111216_1ec923e67778e2f3cdf52e5597e4d9ea3da13394a73026523331b52c2f7a852f" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 19/20"> <figcaption>(Left) Trekker campsite near Shey Gompa in 1993. (Right) The same campsite on 10 June 2023. With the exception of a new stupa and several buildings in the floodplain to the right, very little is different from the image above taken 40 years ago. This, however, will change in the very near future when roads connect Shey with the outside world. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_c236bd4523441f367fa965eddfb8ff70fa4f5bdaabdb789ccefc757a0c162a0c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20231229111220_c236bd4523441f367fa965eddfb8ff70fa4f5bdaabdb789ccefc757a0c162a0c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 21/22"> <figcaption>(Left) Scene from above Shey Gompa in 1993. (Right) The same scene on 10 June 2023. Only the red structure in the foreground, with its rectangular roof bordered with willow and juniper fuelwood, is new. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_fad02525d46b34135fb839504c5663c1a7d0ae57805e3fabc7293d40c9079914.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20231229111220_fad02525d46b34135fb839504c5663c1a7d0ae57805e3fabc7293d40c9079914" data-rendition-name="original" width="2900" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 23/24"> <figcaption>(Left) Shey Gompa in 1993. (Right)  Shey Gompa on 10 June 2023, showing remarkably little change over the past 40 years. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  The repeat photographs thus took on an entirely new and unexpected meaning. The photographs actually show how little change appears to have occurred in the villages, monasteries, and landscapes that we replicated.&nbsp; But with the coming of roads, we can expect unprecedented changes within the next few years, such as new cement hotels, lodges, houses, and other infrastructure. Roads can bring positive (improved access to health care) as well as negative impacts (increased landslides, poaching). We left with the hope that the benefits will outweigh the negative, and that the magic and mystery of Dolpo will continue to prevail in perpetuity. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_45fdaa2f4fe92fe1c41b265d374a0259e5a81c19f1bdd160455b2e2338400920.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20231229111220_45fdaa2f4fe92fe1c41b265d374a0259e5a81c19f1bdd160455b2e2338400920" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 25/26"> <figcaption>(Left) Tsakang Gompa in 1993. This meditative center near Shey Gompa was featured in writer Peter Matthiessen’s 1976 book The Snow Leopard. (Right) Tsakang Gompa on 11 June 2023 showing that little evident change had occurred in the interim period. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / LAKPA NORBU SHERPA (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_d1df43d7caec38690fa4e0dde53cb109e42600b5063b5e8c6e1b2964d6227ae3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20231229111220_d1df43d7caec38690fa4e0dde53cb109e42600b5063b5e8c6e1b2964d6227ae3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 27/28"> <figcaption>(Left) Mother and daughter lodge owners in Yak Kharka identifying photographs of local people taken in 1971 and 1993 by anthropologist Dr Johan Reinhard. (Right) Ladies near Amchii Hospital identifying photographs of their friends taken in 1971 and 1993. Naturalist and mountaineer Lakpa Norbu Sherpa of Family Alpine Trekking and Mountaineering is to the left is holding the photographs. Photos: ALTON C. BYERS</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229101224_ff6bcc5bb843c6eea3f1f30ae5fbe6e92a5ad8837e92d8003f03e1c9a2a73e17.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20231229101224_ff6bcc5bb843c6eea3f1f30ae5fbe6e92a5ad8837e92d8003f03e1c9a2a73e17" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo repeat photographs NT 29"> <figcaption>Elizabeth Byers (left) and the Head Lama of the Bon Gompa near Ringmo identify changes in landscapes and monastery structures from photographs taken in 1971 and 1993. Photo: ALTON C. BYERS</figcaption> </figure>  The historic and recent repeat photographs should provide a solid baseline for young Nepali scholars to conduct future studies on the impact of roads in Dolpo, one of the last of the remote, hidden, and mysterious treasures of Nepal and the world. Alton C. Byers, PhD is a Senior Research Associate and Faculty at the Institute for Arctic and Alpine Research (INSTAAR), University of Colorado at Boulder.

Time catching up with timeless Dolpo

The mustard fields along the road were in riotous golden bloom as we sped past on a motorcycle to the village of Karjahi in Dang district. It was a crisp autumn afternoon six years ago, and I was riding pillion behind Laudhan Chaudhary with the wind in my face.&nbsp; I was researching the history of feminism in Nepal for the Feminist Memory Project of Nepal Picture Library when I first came across the Karjahi Movement, a struggle for land rights led by Tharu women of this valley in the Inner Tarai of western Nepal.&nbsp; Laudhan had driven all the way down to Ghorahi to pick me up, and we finally pulled up in the densely packed Tharu settlement of Karjahi. A 15-year-old girl was bathing at a public tap. She was completely at ease with herself in a thin, water-soaked petticoat tied around her waist, her hands folded over her breasts. Nearby, a group of teenage boys were boisterously playing cards. Off to one side, a young man was engrossed in a book. He was Laudhan’s eldest son, preparing for his overseer exam. Laudhan left his bike in the yard of his small red mud-plastered house with cow dung patties drying along the walls. As soon as she saw that a guest had arrived, Laudhan’s wife Ashma got busy in the kitchen.&nbsp; Ashma is a familiar name among the women of Karjahi. She was nearly nominated to be a member of the federal parliament in Kathmandu.&nbsp; “Her name was proposed, but she wasn’t nominated by the party,” another woman helping in the kitchen explained, slicing okra with a dull, patinaed chulesi.&nbsp; Laudhan and Ashma had invited to their home other women involved in the Karjahi Movement for land rights to talk about their struggle back in 1980.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111124_be55f824019cd114a1b1ed36b270fd7511a821594ed91440b2a37963a94d0438.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023122111124_be55f824019cd114a1b1ed36b270fd7511a821594ed91440b2a37963a94d0438" data-rendition-name="original" width="1909" height="1409" loading="lazy" alt="Tharu women from Karjahi"> </figure>  Patharkali Tharu peasants in Dang were up in arms against jamindar landowners at the time. Leading the women was Patharkali Chaudhary, and there she was 44 years later, clad in a blue sari, sitting on a stool recalling the evening that a dozen policemen came to arrest her. “I got up from my bed,” she said, leaping up from her stool to demonstrate. She shouted at the police, “Get out of my way, if you are real men” and rushed into her niece Ashma’s room.&nbsp; The police did not dare enter, but shouted from the courtyard: “Open the door, or we’re going to shoot.” Patharkali and her niece were also best friends, and they refused to be intimidated. Instead, she shouted back, “Hey you government dogs, shoot this poor woman in the chest if you dare. Otherwise drop your guns now.” &nbsp; Patharkali picked up a heavy stick and told Ashma to set their two enormous dogs, Nangi and Uduwa, on the police. The snarling dogs ran outside, barking and chased away the police and landowners from the courtyard. Patharkali swung her stick, hitting two nearest policemen and breaking the finger of one of them who had destroyed her plough. “It was at that time that the police gave me the nickname Indira Gandhi because I was supposed to be as fearless as the Indian prime minister,” Patharkali recalls, smiling. “Imagine how much braver I would have been if I had studied more. I would have put those thieves in their right place.”&nbsp; Dozens of police came to the house every day for the next week, and every time, Patharkali chased them away. She had not eaten for several days, but nothing could weaken her resolve. However, police arrested Patharkali’s brother, Thaggu Chaudhary, and she remembers going to the station in Fachakpur to visit him in jail every week. The policeman whom she had beaten, were overheard telling the others: “That’s Indira Gandhi. Let her in.”&nbsp; Even though the police all used her nickname, Patharkali herself did not even know at the time who Indira Gandhi was.&nbsp; “I would threaten to stab and kill them for breaking our plough, no wonder they gave me that name,” she says. “We fought for our rights, and because we fought we got our land back.” Ashma&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111120_326263e3c7d018e4c6f8389e357ff47451cbbdd6fabb86d0954495f41c49af5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023122111120_326263e3c7d018e4c6f8389e357ff47451cbbdd6fabb86d0954495f41c49af5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="587" height="822" loading="lazy" alt="Ashma Chaudhary"> <figcaption>Ashma ChaudharyAsma Chaudhary/Nepal Picture Library</figcaption> </figure>  Patharkali’s niece Ashma remembers that at first the Tharu peasants were afraid of the jamindar who owned the land they tilled.&nbsp; The Tharu worked in the fields all year as sharecroppers but after giving away the harvest there was not enough to feed their families. The farmers knew the importance of land, and valued the soil that gave them sustenance.&nbsp; During the Karjahi Movement, Tharu women including Patharkali and Ashma took part in a protest march to Bijauri, 29km away from where the jamindar families lived.&nbsp; Clashes between police and Tharu farmers continued for weeks in Karjahi. The police would come at night and ransack their homes, fling cooked food into the courtyard and steal the best utensils.&nbsp; In one raid, police arrested Ashma’s uncle Premlal Chaudhary and her brother Ram Prasad Chaudhary. The next day, Ashma went to the police station in Sukuwari village and shouted, “Why did you arrest my elderly uncle who is living his last days?” The jamindar would call policemen ‘sir’, but Ashma had the audacity to shout curses at them. She smiles as she recalls her boldness.&nbsp; “Premlal Uncle and Ramprasad Bhai were handcuffed in the police station,” says Ashma, recalling how the women including Patharkali, Keula, Shanti, Shyamkala, Suskala and Lakshmi (pictured) all yelled at the policemen: “Will you let our people go or will you fight us?”&nbsp; And for good measure, Ashma shouted: “Release my uncle or I will come in and kill you with my bare hands.”&nbsp; The next day there was mediation between the women of Karjahi with the Chief District Officer (CDO) of Dang. The police admitted to stealing household items and food from the Tharu homes. Ashma complained that he had been arrested without a warrant and beaten up. The police were finally found to have been at fault. The officers apologised and agreed to release their relatives. “I was a 25-year-old woman and the police let my uncle go because I threatened them,” says Ashma, now 69. “Later, the police were heard complaining that they had to deal with very powerful women.”&nbsp; Ashma is convinced that it was their resistance that allowed the Tharu in Dang to finally get to till their own land.&nbsp; “If I had to do it all over again, I would,” she says, “I’m still strong. If I have to fight again, I will fight.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111128_1bb40cff68b63f6f82c535322542523eaf316993652d71cd214f2b2b00f0dfc7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023122111128_1bb40cff68b63f6f82c535322542523eaf316993652d71cd214f2b2b00f0dfc7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2310" height="1650" loading="lazy" alt="Tharu women from karjahi"> </figure>  Nanachi Nanachi could tell if someone was from a Pahadi hill caste just by smelling them. Or, to be more exact, not smelling them. &nbsp;&nbsp; “We who plough the soil and grow crops, we smell of sweat,” Nanachi explains. “Our bodies all have that odour. Those who do not work on the land do not smell. And those of us who till the soil can also shed blood for our land.” Netralal Paudyal, a Communist leader from Dang, used to tell the farmers of the village to rise up against feudalism. This also inspired the women of Karjahi to fight injustice. But the landowners and the state apparatus were too powerful and some had started losing hope.&nbsp; So, Nanachi started writing and singing songs to build solidarity and give the struggle a boost. Keula Chaudhary played the madal, Indira Chaudhary danced. They sang as they guarded the village from sentry posts for months. The song they sang was: कहा रे उठी जागी किसान दाजु भाइ जबसम्म रहल दि सामन्तीले दुख दिइ उठ जनता उठ जिमिन्दार के विरोध गर्न उठ Where did you stand up, farmer brothers, When they started giving you pain?&nbsp; Rise up, people, resist the landlords. Nirmala, Sita Kumari, Keula&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111124_5b63f3156b05697e860cb1a78f79062adba6ba42b3ed72ee2a9d4e4d0805a755.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023122111124_5b63f3156b05697e860cb1a78f79062adba6ba42b3ed72ee2a9d4e4d0805a755" data-rendition-name="original" width="702" height="865" loading="lazy" alt="Sitakumari"> <figcaption>Sitakumari Chaudhary</figcaption> </figure>  Nirmala Chaudhary still remembers the third day of Karjahi Movement when Nirmala and other women were wounded in attacks by the jamindar’s supporters. Nirmala and some of her friends rushed to the nearby villages to plead for help. Nirmala was carrying her child on her back. Sakhi, Belkeshari and Nirmala called upon other women to join the defence. In Karjahi, three or four households belonged to the jamindar. They reached one landowner’s house and recovered all the ploughs and spades that had been stolen from them, and returned home. Nirmala went to the home of one jamindar Ran Bahadur Pachai in Khirite village, climbed up the stairs, grabbed the jamindar’s shot gun, loaded the bullet and fired it. The inhabitants of the landlord’s household all fled.&nbsp; “We knew there was going to be a battle as the jamindar’s forces regrouped,” recalls Sita Kumari Chaudhary, another protester. “We were ready, all of us women fighters. The landlords were shocked that we women were ready to resist. We had no fear at all. We were fighting for our existence.” In the melee that followed, Keula Chaudhary wrested a rifle off the hands of a policeman who was assaulting her and hit him across the face.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023122111124_7a67ccc425be8fe3bdb22988d385c9392dae939ca55c808bd7748418b385067b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2023122111124_7a67ccc425be8fe3bdb22988d385c9392dae939ca55c808bd7748418b385067b" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="897" loading="lazy" alt="Keula Chaudhary"> <figcaption>Keula Chaudhary</figcaption> </figure>  Not the marrying kind The memories of struggle from more than four decades ago are still fresh in the minds of the women of Karjahi. As they recalled incidents and anecdotes, the women would complete each other’s sentences. And the alcohol helped. Laudhan’s wife Ashma brought raksi in steel cups and passed them around to the women. They downed the rice spirit in a single gulp. Then, it was Ashma’s turn to continue her story. Ashma was not interested in marrying, and everyone in the village was asking “Why are you not married yet?” Laudhan is the son of Ashma’s maternal uncle. But when the queries about marriage became too insistent and unbearable, Laudhan finally gave up and said, “All right, then, I will marry my cousin.” The uncle’s son and aunt’s daughter therefore became husband and wife. Laudhan and Ashma, like all couples, sometimes have arguments. When that happens, Ashma usually tells her husband, “You are my little brother, behave yourself and listen to me.” And that is how they settle their differences.&nbsp; And unlike other couples, Ashma never had to show Laudhan special respect. “This is the secret of most marriages where women are younger and men are older,” she said. On the other hand, Patharkali (aka Indira Gandhi) got married after her sick mother pressured her into it. But the relationship did not last. Patharkali returned to her maternal home after a year. “I broke a policeman’s arm,” Patharkali says, “do you think I would stand for an abusive husband? There was no way he could be married to a woman like me. It just wouldn’t last.”&nbsp; She felt like a servant in her in-law’s home. And after she left her husband, Patharkali has been in control of her own destiny, a free bird. Nepali women have risen up against injustice and oppression throughout history, but their contribution is less well documented. The stories and experiences of the rebel women of Karjahi are chronicled in the book The Public Life of Women: A Feminist Memory Project with pictures. The women who rose up in the Karjahi Movement do not identify themselves as feminists. They prefer the term ‘existentialist’. They say, “We are existentialists. We fought for our own existence, and the existence of our soil.”&nbsp; There are women in Kathmandu who are international feminists, and one of them when asked about her work replied, “Google me.”&nbsp; But the Tharu women of Dang and other women struggling anonymously every day for their rights are the real feminists of this land. They are not interested in fame or publicity, that is not why they are fighting. Their stories are undocumented and unheard, and you cannot find them in a Google search. &nbsp;&nbsp; Nisha Rai is a journalist interested in Gender Equality &amp; Social Inclusion, Federalism and Health &amp; Education. She was formerly with BBC Media Action. The Public Life of Women: A Feminist Memory Project In English and Nepali photo.circle Nepal Picture Library, 2023 558 pages Rs1,200 (Nepal); &nbsp;INR1,500 (South Asia); &nbsp; $35 (Rest of the World) ISBN 9789937141123