Harka Lama felt as though his life was ending when he was diagnosed with bladder cancer in 2020. The treatment was a hard-won battle, with two surgeries and 27 rounds of chemotherapy before he went into remission in 2022. As harrowing as his journey was, he did not have to worry much about covering the cost of his treatment, thanks to friends and well-wishers, particularly those overseas, who extended financial support. Lama’s fight against cancer was less painful because of this support. However, throughout his grueling treatment, he could not help but think of those who might not have the support he got. “I had help from friends, but I saw many cancer patients who could not even afford to be admitted to hospital for treatment,” says Lama. “I had to do something to help.” An avid cyclist, Lama had met Bikash Parajuli, an orthopaedist at Dhulikhel Hospital, in 2017 when he participated in the Yak Attack high-altitude mountain bike race in which Parajuli was a medic. When Lama was diagnosed with cancer, Parajuli encouraged him to go for treatment at Dhulikhel. While brainstorming about ways to raise funds for patients in need, Lama was inspired by Yak Attack to raise money through cross country bicycling. He teamed up with Dhulikhel Hospital and the Cycle Culture Community (CCC), planning to cycle east to west along Nepal’s foothills to raise funds.&nbsp; Five years later this month, bicyclists began their fundraising tour from Panchthar’s Chiwabanjyang in eastern Nepal to Baitadi’s Jhulaghat in the west, cycling 1,800km across Nepal from 1-27 January. Lama and Parajuli, along with Kabita Chitrakar, Bhairaja Maharjan, and Keshav KC cycled the full route. Along the way, more than 50 people had joined with their bicycles for parts of the trail. Lead rider Kabita Chitrakar is currently being treated for breast cancer that was diagnosed four years ago after she had lost both her mother and sister to the disease. CYCLING, A SAVIOUR “It was doubly painful to be battling the disease by myself after losing them,” says Chitrakar who found out during a radiation therapy session that the cancer had spread to her lungs and the doctor gave her six months to live. “I fell into a depressive spiral. I could not eat or sleep.” Her friends and family encouraged her to take up cycling to keep her spirits up. Her nephew brought her a bicycle with a modified seat so that she could ride comfortably. In time, what had started as a hobby became a passion. “As I rode through mountains and forests, I began to enjoy cycling, and my heart began to feel lighter. I was no longer sad, cycling changed my whole perspective towards life,” she told us, back in Kathmandu. She has gone through eight rounds of chemotherapy and has heard from other women how much her spirit inspired them, too.&nbsp; “My family was my pillar through my treatment, encouraging me to fight this disease and live my life to the fullest,” she says. “I want to encourage other women to who are going through the same thing that I did.” As Lama and Chitrakar cycled up and down mountain trails, the team did not just raise funds, they also held awareness programs in 14 schools across 11 districts about cancers, mobilising local mother’s groups. “We encouraged young girls and women to be aware about the risks of breast and cervical cancer, and go for screening and mammography,” says gynecologist Suman Raj Tamrakar, a member of the cycling team. “We met with over 1,700 young girls and women during our journey.” The cycling team has raised Rs2.3 million, and it will be handed over to Dhulikhel Hospital, which has committed to matching the amount raised to cover the cost of treatment for poorer patients.&nbsp; Says Lama: “I am beyond happy to have completed this journey. But even happier that we raised all that money for the cause.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260129120132_3453a41e892982252b4109dc7de126a08a0b8c1ad6756935f98b6e451d2fddbe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260129120132_3453a41e892982252b4109dc7de126a08a0b8c1ad6756935f98b6e451d2fddbe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="281" loading="lazy" alt="cycling for cancer"> </figure>

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Here & Now

Cycling to combat cancer

This is the 81st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I went to Australia in 2008 because everyone was headed there. It was my first time leaving the country and my first job. My college helped me find work as a kitchen helper at a Brisbane restaurant.&nbsp; I did not know that being a kitchen helper meant washing dishes. I was young and did not know how to wash dishes or how to handle the steam, the hot water, and the busy kitchen. The utensils were thrown at the dishwashing station continuously, and water splashed on my face. My shoes and clothes were always wet. It was an on-call job. A couple of days into the job, I was asked to come in when I was at the movies. I refused. They fired me. That was that. I then worked on a farm, picking lemons and oranges. The lemon work was particularly hard because I would get cuts all over my hands. This hustle was not for me.&nbsp; Within a year in Australia, I decided to return to Nepal because the foreign life did not suit me. After spending eight months in Nepal, reality sank in. Nepal was not all that great either. I went back to Australia. On the plane, I befriended a Nepali woman who was homesick and a first time traveler. At the immigration in Australia, the officer noticed my long absence and started interrogating me. He noticed the Nepali woman waiting for me and asked who she was. Without thinking I lied that she was my girlfriend. That seemed to do the trick because he did not want us to be separated. He stamped my passport. She went her way. I went mine.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f" data-rendition-name="original" width="987" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81 NT"> </figure>  In Sydney, I again found a dishwashing job at a fine dining restaurant. A Sri Lankan colleague helped me learn the job. The pace at which I had to do the dishes was insane but I got the hang of it in two weeks. I always dreamt of one day wearing the chef’s white coat. It commanded respect, I could tell. In addition to becoming good at my job washing dishes, I also had good language and networking skills so I built good relationships with colleagues. There was a need for a pizza chef at the restaurant. It was expensive to hire someone new, and they asked me if I was up for the job. I said yes even though I knew nothing about making pizzas. My Italian colleagues coached me and before I knew it, I became better than others at the job. Soon, I realised that I did not just want to make pizzas. Whatever I wanted to learn, I just asked seniors to take me under their wings and I would help without pay. They would agree but still pay me. It wasn’t a strategy per se, I genuinely wanted to learn. At some point, a Japanese sous chef in my restaurant and I had coincidentally applied to the same restaurant, and there, under him, I got to learn even more. Working with a Japanese chef is really difficult, but you learn a lot. He would sometimes even hold my hand with tongs dipped in hot water when I screwed something up. I worked in a few restaurants after this and was earning well. When one of my colleagues, a dishwasher, was let go unfairly, I decided to leave because I did not want to be a quiet bystander to this act. I returned to Nepal immediately after this.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 82"> </figure>  I started a restaurant called Ghumti, but it was struggling. The location of the restaurants was not good and it failed. I bought another restaurant in Darbar Marg. I was managing two restaurants when Covid hit. The rent kept piling up, and there was no revenue. I took a huge loss. I gave them up and returned to Chitwan and started making migration plans. I came across a job vacancy for Alba in Qatar by the famous Enrico Crippa. I still remember the heat when I got out of the airport in Doha, it was like entering an oven. Thankfully, I had a Nepali roommate who showed me around and helped me adjust.&nbsp; The hotel was still under construction, but training had started. We worked really hard for the opening and things went well. In 2023, we even won the Best MENA Restaurant award. But at some point in 2024, the international Crippa chain decided to leave.&nbsp; Some colleagues including the head chef left and I suddenly was put in charge. I had some head chef experience from Australia and had previous experience working in high pressure environments, so I stepped up. We had to start from scratch again, this time as Alba in Raffles, Doha.&nbsp; The name of our restaurant comes from the Alba white truffle, which is the best available and is expensive, selling at around 40,000 QAR per kg. We had heard the official announcement that the Michelin was coming to Qatar, and we worked even harder.&nbsp; Michelin inspections are strict, highly secretive and you have no idea you are being investigated. Even then, we were up for the game. We were ‘selected’ which meant we had potential.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="697" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81"> </figure>  I went to the award ceremony with low expectations. But because they announce the name alphabetically, Alba came first. I was very happy and felt validated. Being recognised as a Michelin one star restaurant is a huge achievement for us. My MD reminded me of a promise I had made of getting a Michelin tattoo if we got the award. I guess I will get it done when I come to Nepal next. My plan is to get a tattoo that captures my journey right from the dishwashing days.&nbsp; I have cooked for Obama, Beckham, Kaka, Trump, 50 Cent, Lindsay Lohan, you name it, because our restaurant is visited by high profile guests. At first, I used to feel the pressure. Now I view all guests as the same. The food you make is the same no matter who is eating it. I love the work. In fact, it does not feel like work. The rush in the kitchen, the atmosphere, the heat, the scent, I live for it. When I am not working, I get bored. It is like an addiction without which I get withdrawals. I want to contribute in introducing Nepali cuisine and ingredients in the worldstage. Nepalis overseas have a lot of potential in the hospitality sector. But my advice to youth is to focus on building a strong base and invest in learning. It is increasingly common for Nepalis to job hop for a salary jump. While other skills like language are also important, it is the hard skills that we really need to focus on. In our field of work, it is the plate that needs to speak.

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Sky is the limit

Leaked letters from Korea’s Unification Church have revealed its extensive involvement in buying political and media influence worldwide, including links to Nepal’s parties and politicians. Documents obtained by the <a href="https://newstapa.org/eng">Korean Centre for Investigative Journalism</a> (Newstapa) and <a href="https://dunia-asia.org/leaked-true-mother-report-exposes-unification-church-influence-in-nepal-and-north-korea-outreach/">Dunia</a> contain correspondence to and from the controversial religious movement whose leader, 82-year-old <a href="https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/southkorea/politics/20251216/explainer-who-is-han-hak-ja-true-mother-at-center-of-unification-church-scandals">Hak Ja Han</a>, is currently on trial in Seoul for allegedly bribing the wife and associates of disgraced former president Yoon Suk Yeol.&nbsp; The letters and direct messages referenced in the investigation mention three former prime ministers: Madhav Kumar Nepal who has now joined the Nepali Communist Party, K P Oli of the Communist Party of Nepal UML (Unified Marxist-Leninist), and former Maoist ideologue Baburam Bhattarai.&nbsp; The documents detail financial support from the Unification Church (now known as Family Federation for World Peace and Unification) to Nepal Paribar Dal (Nepal Family Party) and its founder <a href="https://reviewnepal.com/national/dhakal-reelected-as-chair-of-pariwar-dal.html">Ek Nath Dhakal,</a> who is a staunch ally of the UML. On Sunday, Dhakal signed an MoU with K P Oli of the UML to cooperate in the March election and beyond. The leaked correspondence concerning Nepal spans the period between the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/elections-of-by-for-men,4038">first federal elections in 2017</a> till the 2022 polls and contains emails between Dhakal and Yong Jeong Shik, Regional President for Asia of the Unification Church, with urgent requests for funds for campaigning and to support the UML.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260124080120_63bb0a555b9f0676b1301b7a71e9cefda7f3eb69e5fa0ff1249a1bbeec0c17bf.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260124080120_63bb0a555b9f0676b1301b7a71e9cefda7f3eb69e5fa0ff1249a1bbeec0c17bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="598" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  ‘Regarding funding, I am truly sorry, but a minimum of $500,000 is required,’ one of the messages to Yong in the report says. ‘Furthermore, as the election is scheduled for December 7th [2017], I would be very grateful if I could receive it as soon as possible. The initial $500,000 was used for overall election expenses, and the additional $500,000 is intended for campaign activities for the Family Party and supporting key leaders.’ In addition, there are also letters requesting an additional $20,000 per month in ‘maintenance costs for the Nepal Family Party and preparations for the<a href="http://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-parties-forge-new-pre-poll-alliances"> 2022 election</a>’.&nbsp; Asked for a reaction to the allegations, Govinda Nath Mishra of the Nepal Paribar Party said: “This is an unnecessary smear campaign against our party. Parties doing good work are always linked to some foreign powers in Nepal to discredit them.” Ek Nath Dhakal has also denied that his party’s affiliation with the UML has anything to do with Unification Church donations. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-movement-in-Nepal,2962">He told Nepali Times in an interview in 2016</a>: “The party has links to all faiths, as it has with the unification movement. The Nepal Family Party is a kind of conservative party with a manifesto that promotes family values, interfaith dialogue and harmony. There are 11 political parties supporting Prime Minister Oli. Nepal Family Party is just one of them.” <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FMcGp_Mn4fwA%3Fsi%3DM3bVjAnbnelwKwAl&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> In another update to Yong, Dhakal describes the UML’s election campaign in 2017 as ‘proceeding very successfully … it appears certain the Unified Marxist-Leninist will achieve a landslide victory’. Dhakal was not contesting directly as a candidate, but piggybacking on the UML <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/house-of-cards-6alq6pvi">which had put him on the proportional representation list</a>, ostensibly in return for campaign financing. He continues: ‘It is certain that I will be elected as a proportional representation member of the National Assembly due to a shortage of female candidates. I discussed the possibility of my election with Prime Minister Madhav and Prime Minister K P Oli … both have confirmed that I could be moved from 5th place [on the PR list] to 1st or 2nd if necessary.’&nbsp; Ek Nath Dhakal became Minister of Poverty Alleviation and Cooperatives under Prime Minister Baburam Bhattarai in 2012 and in 2016 Minister of peace and Reconstruction under the K P oli government.&nbsp; During his tenure, Dhakal organised an ‘<a href="http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2018-12/01/c_137644390.htm">Asia-Pacific Summit 2018</a>’ in Kathmandu presided over by Hak Ja Han, wife of Rev Sun Myung Moon, founder of the Unification Church and Universal Peace Federation (UPF). The couple are known in the movement as ‘True Parents’ and Hak Ja Han is referred to as ‘True Mother’. Oli addressed the Kathmandu summit which was attended by 1,500 delegates, including Burmese leader Aung San Suu Kyi and Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen. The <a href="https://theannapurnaexpress.com/story/15201/">gathering drew criticism</a> for being a proselytisation exercise, prompting Oli to decline attending a ‘blessing’ ceremony by Hak Ja Han.&nbsp; Ever since, the ‘Holy Wine’ has entered Nepal's political lexicon, and is still used derogatorily to label politicians involved.&nbsp; Nepal Paribar Party’s Govinda Nath Mishra says: “Ek Nath Dhakal has become a member of the House of Representatives twice, and our party has since its inception been close to the UML. We are just continuing that cooperation for this election as well.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260124080120_49ed56931f2bd97d75a5c9604e2d4f5cd3474177b302b13db5df2ccbe63994dd.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260124080120_49ed56931f2bd97d75a5c9604e2d4f5cd3474177b302b13db5df2ccbe63994dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1318" height="1204" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  The Unification Church has said that the leaked documents are not authentic and were unofficial records created by former Director General of the Unification Church’s International Headquarters Yun Young Ho to ‘flaunt his influence’. The Japanese branch of the Unification Church said in a statement this week: ‘After reviewing the documents believed to be the report in question, we have found factual inaccuracies were added or content modified.’ Milan Kumari Rajbanshi, deputy General-Secretary of the Nepal Paribar Party and former MP denied her party was funded by any outside source, and she was no aware of any correspondence between Dhakal and anyone else.&nbsp; She told Nepali Times: “After the September street protests we spoke to many political parties, including GenZ activists, but the UML was the closest to our values.” Rajbanshi will be campaigning in Jhapa-5 on behalf of K P Oli who will be contesting against former Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah. The Newstapa leak show Dhakal and the Unification Church worked behind the scenes in the 2017 election to influence the &nbsp;elections. One email from Dhakal references this: ‘(If) we can secure a majority in next year’s general election … our wish is to educate all parliamentarians for two years until 2020 and create a constitution centred on Cheon Il Guk.’ Cheon Il Guk (천일국) means ‘One Heavenly Kingdom’ and is the vision of a spiritual nation proclaimed by Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church, and emphasises family values instead of individualism for global unity under a ‘Heavenly Parent’.&nbsp; The emails reveal that the Church was planning to convince Madhav Nepal and K P Oli to take all 150 coalition legislators to Bangkok to introduce them to its beliefs. That trip did not materialise, but the Church had earlier taken 20 Communist MPs to the Philippines and Thailand for ‘principle education’.&nbsp; In another email to Yong Jeong Shik, Dhakal describes Baburam Bhattarai as being ‘disillusioned with communism’ and that he proposed ‘gathering all minority parties to join the Family Party’. Bhattarai left the Maoists and is contesting from the Pragatisheel Loktantrik Party from his Gorkha constituency in March. Despite its connections with Nepal’s Communists, the Unification Church is known to support conservative politics around the world including through ownership of media like <a href="https://www.washingtontimes.com/">The Washington Times</a> newspaper.&nbsp; Founder Sun Myung Moon was deeply involved in pushing for Korean unification, and the Church has worked with Asian countries that have ties with North Korea. Documents show that the Unification Church had tried to get then UML Chair Madhav Kumar Nepal to Pyongyang, but the Nepal government supposedly under pressure from the South Korean, Japanese and US ambassadors got him to call it off. Madhav Nepal had also insisted that he meet Kim Jong Un, but the North Korean side had said it was not possible. But after Nepal left the UML to form the Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Socialist) he met the North Korean Ambassador in the presence of Ek Nath Dhakal to plan a visit in order to work towards Korean unification. A 11-member delegation composed of Nepal, Dhakal, MPs and a newspaper publisher visited North Korea in 2017 (pictured below).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260123040128_6690244be7aa18e24a4aef825935a7afcaa893b40191f712ab498105e06aaf51.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20260123040128_6690244be7aa18e24a4aef825935a7afcaa893b40191f712ab498105e06aaf51" data-rendition-name="original" width="2201" height="1148" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  METICULOUS ARCHIVE An extract from correspondence is indicative of the former prime minister’s links to the Unification Church: ‘Madhav Kumar Nepal … maintains a very close relationship with us and could become Prime Minister again at any time. There is no one who knows us as well or respects the Parents as much as former Prime Minister Madhav does … he is someone who regards the True Parents like God.’ The internal documents of the Unification Church obtained by Newstapa is called the ‘TM [True Mother] Special Report’ and appears to have been prepared for Hak Ja Han. The 3,212-page text provides a chronological account of the Church’s management of politicians internationally, its handling donations, and plans to expand political influence through its affiliated media outlets. The document is a meticulous archive apparently compiled by Yun Young Ho, the former Director General of the Unification Church’s International Headquarters, the organisation’s second-in-command.&nbsp; This suggests church affairs were reported directly to Hak Ja Han. Korean investigators are now focusing on whether Han merely received these reports or issued specific directives based on them. Yun testified during the trial in Seoul that the Church’s regional leaders and local partners would send daily field reports which he would synthesise into a ‘Special Report’ format to provide oral briefings to Han. Hak Ja Han therefore may have been personally involved in the Church’s operations in granular detail. Korean special prosecutors are viewing these documents as critical evidence in her trial to prove that she was directly involved in political lobbying. Last week, during a hearing on the Hak Ja Han bribery case, a regional Church leader admitted to personally drafting segments of the ‘True Parents Correspondence Report’ featured in the document. The ‘TM Special Report’ appears to be a compilation of internal documents reprocessed into a single file and includes emails and direct messaging. Certain periods are missing, leading to gaps in the narrative, raising the possibility that specific portions of the report may have been selectively curated or redacted. &nbsp; <h2>Both Koreas in Nepal</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012304018_962b3169d725dbd3dc820aab16a6ab8d3a083b55174558003d4ccfe97fe7789e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2026012304018_962b3169d725dbd3dc820aab16a6ab8d3a083b55174558003d4ccfe97fe7789e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  Buddhism spread northwards across the Himalaya from Nepal to China and Korea 1,000 years ago, but in the past decades two of Korea’s powerful ideologies have come to Nepal. Nepal’s leftist movement, most notably the Nepal Workers Peasants Party (NWPP) <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Bhaktapur-dear-leader,3010">inspired by North Korea’s Kim Il Sung’s Juche Idea</a> espouses a nationalist agenda, and has a strong base in Bhaktapur. Meanwhile, South Korea’s Unification Church of Sun Myung Moon has influenced Nepal’s political, administrative and religious spheres.&nbsp; After establishment of Moon’s Universal Peace Federation (UPF) in 2005, the Church has a sizable presence in Nepal. The movement’s leader is Ek Nath Dhakal of the Nepal Paribar Party (above) who is affiliated with the UML and even served as a minister in a UML-Maoist coalition after being nominated as a PR member to Parliament.&nbsp; <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-movement-in-Nepal,2962">He told this paper in 2016</a>: “I am a Hindu, associated with the Unification Movement. The UPF staged one of its mass weddings at Dashrath Stadium in Kathmandu in 2017 (below). The movement recruits public figures like former president Bidya Devi Bhandari, Madhav Kumar Nepal and others as Ambassadors for Peace. Before he died in 2012 at age 92, Rev Moon had picked Nepal as a ‘model peace nation of God’. The Church says it embraces all religions, and does not even display the Christian cross at its places of worship.&nbsp; While young Nepalis follow South Korean pop culture fever, in Bhaktapur it is Kim Il Sung’s Juche Idea that is the dominant ideology. The Nepal Workers Peasants Party has won just about every district and local election from Bhaktapur, not so much for its politics, but because its representatives have performed well. Bhaktapur’s following of Kim Il Sung is based on Bijukchhe’s vision that his town be self-reliant and deliver development equitably.&nbsp; <h2>A worldwide web</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012304018_5c2949a3715b74f8992a6dcfc305fbaa817a0b834365c737bb81245762d74148.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="2026012304018_5c2949a3715b74f8992a6dcfc305fbaa817a0b834365c737bb81245762d74148" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="968" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics"> </figure>  In 2022, the Unification Church (Family Federation for World Peace and Unification) arranged a meeting between Yoon Suk Yeol, who was then presidential candidate, and former US Vice President Mike Pence just before South Korean elections. The visit was timed for the ‘World Summit 2022’ hosted by the Universal Peace Federation (UPF), a Unification Church affiliate. The visit was widely covered by the media at the time, but a Newstapa investigation last year confirmed that the Church paid Pence $550,000 to visit Seoul. The visit was designed to bolster Yoon’s diplomatic and security credentials and appeal to religious voters. Yoon knew Pence was a devout Christian, and media at the time reported that both prayed before the meeting. Just like the UPF’s World Summit 2018 in Kathmandu, Cambodian PM Hun Sen was in attendance as was former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon. The welcome remark at the Summit was delivered by Yun Young Ho, then-Director General of the Unification Church’s World Headquarters. South Korean Special Prosecutors are currently investigating Yun for allegedly bribing former president Yoon Suk Yeol’s wife Kim Keon Hee.&nbsp; Newstapa also dug up Pence’s financial disclosures filed with the US Office of Government Ethics and the Federal Election Commission and found that Pence reported receiving $550,000 from the UPF for ‘a speaking engagement’ in Seoul in 2022 — an unusually hefty fee. Cambodian Premier Hun Sen has hosted K P Oli several times in Phnom Penh, once as prime minister in 2019, and again last year in August. There seems to be a similar nexus between Hun Sen, the UPF and former President Yoon and his wife Kim Keon Hee. When he became president in 2022, Yoon visited Cambodia with his wife, and South Korea doubled its development assistance to Cambodia to $1.5 billion. The Special Prosecutor in Seoul is investigating allegations that the Unification Church provided funds to Kim Keon Hee in helping a Mekong River project in Cambodia.

Moonie money in Nepal’s politics

Kalpana Maharjan is the first female journalist to climb Mt Everest from both the Nepal and the China sides. But the Lalitpur native doesn’t just climb mountains for the sake of breaking records. In 2014, Maharjan was attempting Mera Peak in the Khumbu region when she was struck by severe cerebral oedema that put her into a coma for eight days. “After regaining consciousness I believed that God had given me a second life,” recalls Maharjan. “So I decided that I would live the rest of my life for the public good.” Her first summit of Everest was in 2018, when Maharjan was 34. She climbed from the South Col route with four other Nepali women journalists. Exactly a year later, she summitted again, this time from from the North Col route, naming her expedition 'Back to Everest: A Campaign Against Child Marriage.'&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122050152_bd0158bb764e79e6c20ed70fe297e5c836621f7af2366a650e4e68e07a4bbe3a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260122050152_bd0158bb764e79e6c20ed70fe297e5c836621f7af2366a650e4e68e07a4bbe3a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="1024" loading="lazy" alt="Kalpana Maharjan"> <figcaption>Kalpana Maharjan being greeted in Lalitpur after her second ascent of Everest in 2019.</figcaption> </figure>  Now, Maharjan combines her activism with training young Nepalis in sports climbing. Maharjan runs awareness programs against child marriage and human trafficking in schools in South Lalitpur: Godavari, Imadol, Dukuchhep. Her first goal is to make the district of Lalitpur free of child marriage. “My whole goal is to show kids that there is more to life than getting married,” she says. She does this by introducing and training students in Sports Climbing which includes Speed climbing, Lead climbing, and Bouldering. “There are only one or two Nepali athletes dedicated to the sport. So it is possible to train for 3 to 4 years and become an international level climber,” says Maharjan, who trains 150 young athletes, some as young as 7. There are under-14 climbing tournaments, and the idea is to start them young on the walls since their future competitors in the West start as soon as they can walk. Maharjan is committed to the sport. She completed judging and route-setting training from the Indian Mountaineering Foundation, is the president of the Bagmati Province’s Sports Climbing Association and is fund-raising to build a climbing wall in Imadol. For the moment, Maharjan’s students use the Pasang Lhamu climbing wall in Dhumbarahi, twice a week and daily during vacations.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122050152_59195b8b3d15be358bb6909a03217bff0fc6b62e8ddccf01c85369119853dda9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122050152_59195b8b3d15be358bb6909a03217bff0fc6b62e8ddccf01c85369119853dda9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Kalpana Maharjan"> <figcaption>Kalpana Maharjan trainign students on the climbing wall.</figcaption> </figure>  “The kids are excited about the wall in Imadol, which would allow them to train more often,” says Maharjan. “Interestingly, the ones who are scared of heights often perform the best.” Besides training on the climbing wall, Maharjan also counsels her students about their career plans, and hopes that her story inspires them to achieve any goal they want. With programs such as ‘Tij on the Wall’ during the annual festival for women, Maharjan makes sure the parents are involved too, and that they understand and feel what climbing is like. BALANCING ACT Maharjan has always had to balance her passion for mountaineering, activism, and sports climbing with the duties and expectations of her family. “My son helps out a lot, he is very independent and busy, but convincing my parents and husband was a lot of work,” she admits. In fact, her husband only found out that she was going back to climbing Everest after her coma through the news. “I understand their concern. After all, the doctor had given me only a 15% chance to live,” she says. “I couldn’t tell them I was going back to the mountains.” Kalpana’s father even threatened to disown her. But she had already set her mind to it, and was willing to risk any opposition from her parents, and even separation. While training for her first attempt, she would wake up at three in the morning to get all of her housework done. Then she would leave the house to train at a climbing wall in Balaju, and then go to her journalism job or meet potential sponsors for the climb. “As the eldest daughter-in-law in a traditional Newar household I had a lot of chores when I got home in the evening,” she remembers. As part of the Jyapu farming community, Maharjan is also proud that after working as a journalist producing videos, on the weekends she is at her family’s paddy field in Dhapakhel with a doko on her back. Eventually, Maharjan’s goal is to have her trainees win medals in international competitions, and develop a reputation for Nepal in the sports climbing world.

Vishad Raj Onta

Driving young Nepalis up the wall

This is the 80th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad.
I worked in Kuwait for 11 years before deciding to call it quits. I had not visited Nepal in nine years. A broker from eastern Nepal had arranged the migration of 15 of us, and I was the only one from Jajarkot. 
Since the government did not allow domestic workers to migrate, we went through India. We were afraid he might sell us off in India. I had never left my village. As a precaution, we made the female broker accompany us to India till we flew out to Kuwait.
At the airport in Kuwait, no one came to pick us up and we waited there for two days. We did not have any money so we had to beg for food and water. Some gave us noodles, biscuits and water. Others ignored us. 
We even drank water from used bottles from the trash. The Indian agent finally came to pick us up but we were too scared to confront him.
The first house I was placed in was not good. I did not speak Arabic and I did not know how to use the iron or washing machine. A Filipino worker helped me, but madam kept following me around and making me do everything twice. It was not easy at all.
Not able to understand the language I was like someone dumb and deaf. Hand gestures were not sufficient. I don’t know how I passed those two years before returning to Nepal. But there were no jobs, no money. So I decided to migrate again to Kuwait because it felt familiar, and by this time I spoke Arabic. 
This time, I stayed with the same family for nine years. All four children in the house were born when I was there, so they are very attached to me. Madam was all right although she made me work a lot and micromanaged me. Every family member in Kuwait had their car and driver. Back home we don’t even own personal bicycles.
Taking care of children meant that I could go wherever they went so I got to travel and eat pizzas and burgers. They paid me on time, and I sent money home to take care of my sister, a cancer survivor.
With my savings I also bought land and built a small house in Surkhet. I have no educational background or work experience, so this was a big deal.
For nine years, I did not see a reason to return because of my obligations to my sister and her son. In Kuwait, I met with colleagues from different countries like the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Indonesia and India but we communicated in Arabic. We worked for different families but got to meet every Thursday when madams used to go to her mother’s house. 
We got along and fought like sisters, but most of our time went running after the children. There was no time for anything else. Madam’s house where I spent nine years was good, but it is actually how well the employers treat us that is important.
I watched Tiktok videos during my free time. Mostly deuda songs. During the GenZ movement, I was glued to social media. I supported it, but wished they had not burnt down government offices. I was not allowed to post on social media. 
By the time I left, I was making around 180 Kuwait dinar a month ($580). I have heard horror stories from Nepali sisters about their employers, but mine paid me well and on time. She could have been better by allowing me to rest more, to use the phone more freely. 
Between preparing children for school, ironing, washing, cleaning the house, cooking, taking care of the children, I had no time for anything. Not even to sleep properly. What can we do?
Back in Nepal I often wonder how the children are doing. If they are eating well. You get attached to them, but as they grow older, they also complain about us. I used to sing and dance with the kids. They depended on me for everything and I had watched them right from the time they were born. 
Sometimes, they used to refer to me as their mother which my madam did not like. I don’t have my own kids. That is why when I made up my mind to leave, I felt bad leaving them behind, especially the youngest one who relied on me for everything. 
Even now, when I think about it, my eyes tear up. Madam asked me to take a long vacation and return to Kuwait, but I had made up my mind to go back to Nepal. A Sri Lankan woman replaced me, and we overlapped for a month as I trained her and the children got used to her. 
On my last day, Madam and I decided that I should sneak out without telling the children because they would not be able to handle it. I asked the Sri Lankan woman how the children are holding up, and she said the youngest one still cries asking about me. Madam was also emotional about me leaving, she gave me olive oil, clothes and sweets but no money. I cannot describe how happy I was to get on the plane to return home, my heart was full of excitement.
Since I came back, it has been a very different experience. After nine years of living in someone else’s house where my every move was monitored, I feel so free. I can use the phone as I please. I can sleep as I please. I need to catch up on my sleep. There is so much freedom. 
Because of the children, I had developed a taste for pizzas and burgers but they are not as tasty in Nepal, I don’t know why. But the meal I was craving for when I came home was freshly made rice, lentils and mustard greens. I went to the hospital here, and I saw nurses in uniform and it reminded me of the domestic workermaid’s clothes I wore in Kuwait. 
I am worried about money running out, even though it has only been a few weeks. Expenses are high in Nepal. The monthly income has stopped. When I went a decade ago, I relied on others financially. Now, there are others who depend on me.
Author wants to remain anonymous.

Homecoming after nine years

The wide <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-river-of-life">Karnali River</a> looks like the sea here in the Tarai, and thick fog makes it impossible to see the other shore. Farmers melt into the mist as they head off to their farms. A weak sun filters through by mid-morning. Pigs nap in their pens, goats are dressed in cardigans fashioned out of jute sacks for warmth, hens peck listlessly at the mud courtyards. Ducks waddle across the country roads, and cars swerve to avoid them. The indigenous Tharu and Sonaha communities here have deeply-rooted socio-cultural ties to the river. They have fished in it for generations, and fish is associated with births, deaths, and weddings. As their name suggests, the Sonaha have also traditionally panned for gold in the sand along the banks. But in recent decades, over-fishing, pollution and infrastructure have led to a decline in the Karnali’s fish population. Last week, near the Satti bridge connecting Sudurpaschim and Lumbini Provinces, the fog lifted to reveal the blue-green Karnali glimmering in the sun. Hundreds of people from Kailali’s Tikapur and Bardia’s Rajapur gathered for the inauguration of the Sakhi Fish Sanctuary — the first conservation effort of its kind in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_ef2493a1124a33e90ca39f3a0b861ffef4a8bde6b5d3839f96e2fe7f583d0de8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260116130120_ef2493a1124a33e90ca39f3a0b861ffef4a8bde6b5d3839f96e2fe7f583d0de8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> <figcaption>The Sonaha community have traditionally panned for gold in the sand along the banks of the Karnali River. Photos: GAYATRI PRADHAN / WWF NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  The sanctuary covers nearly 4 sq km of the Lower Karnali that falls within the two municipalities, and is ecologically significant since it serves as critical breeding, spawning, and nursery habitats for endangered fish, reptiles and mammals.&nbsp; Here are found the rare Gangetic River Dolphin (Platanista gangetica), the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/crocodile-chronicle">Gharial</a> (Gavialis gangeticus) &nbsp;fish-eating crocodile, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-karnali-otters">Smooth-coated Otter</a> (Lutrogale perspicillata). In addition, there are 197 species of fish in the Karnali, of which 136 are found here in the Tarai section of the river. The pebbled riverbed is a breeding ground for fish when the river is low, while the oxbow lakes and loops created by the nearby Satti bridge are nursing grounds for fish. This is what makes this section of the Karnali ideal to be declared a sanctuary. But what makes the conservation effort really unique is that it is an initiative of the two local municipalities, the local Tharu, Sonaha and other indigenous communities. The sanctuary will support the river’s aquatic biodiversity, and is supported by the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), the Dolphin Conservation Centre, Freed Kamaiya Women Development Forum, Small Mammals Conservation and Research Foundation, and the Sonaha Bikas Samaj.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260115110116_f844434e0191df09ad6d6d7887a69491eaf15f0ff1b093c7866ab22cfb0c6c95.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260115110116_f844434e0191df09ad6d6d7887a69491eaf15f0ff1b093c7866ab22cfb0c6c95" data-rendition-name="original" width="1358" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="6-7 map"> </figure>  MEKONG LESSONS The mayors of Tikapur and Rajapur visited fish conservation zones in Laos along the Mekong River to learn about their conservation practices. &nbsp; “We have indiscriminately killed the fish in the Karnali during the breeding and nursing season,” said Rajapur Mayor Dipesh Tharu at the inauguration. “We felt that if this continued there would be no fish left.” Tharu is aware that some locals are wary of conservation initiatives, fearing that it will ban fishing altogether. The sanctuary will allow sustainable fishing but ban the use of dynamite and poison to kill fish.&nbsp; “The sanctuary will contribute to the conservation of not just fish species, but also the mammals and reptiles that live here,” explained ichthyologist Suresh Wagle. “It will protect the spawning and nursing grounds, restore the natural habitat of fish and ensure their genetic continuation.” Tikapur’s mayor Ram Lal Dangaura Tharu recalled his own childhood spent fishing in the Karnali: “Even two decades ago there used to be plenty of fish here, we used to bring baskets full of them home. Now, it is looking like there will be no fish left. This is why the sanctuary is important.” Local governments taking the lead in conservation allows them to have ownership, and help citizens understand the importance of protecting the riverine ecosystem better.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_fddc696800b9b38d02736195af2b3535667cde365d56151ccf85eb0756f1ad8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260116130120_fddc696800b9b38d02736195af2b3535667cde365d56151ccf85eb0756f1ad8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> </figure>  “The commitment of the local government towards resource conservation, management and sustainable development is what makes this sanctuary so unique,” says Ghana Gurung of WWF Nepal. “In Nepal and across the world, we are seeing indigenous culture and traditions disappear with the biodiversity. This initiative will not just protect freshwater aquatic species but also the culture and heritage of indigenous groups linked to the river.” Komal Sonaha grew up fishing and panning for gold along the banks of the Karnali. The fish provided food, and the gold brought additional income. Sonaha also remembers Karnali brimming with fish when she was young. “But now, there are hardly any left,” she said. &nbsp; Sonaha is also a WWF Otter Champion, and part of the community-run river conservation groups that mobilise local communities for awareness. “Initially there was anger and suspicion among local communities, but now, there is a realisation that the sanctuary is the best thing that could have happened here,” Sonaha added.&nbsp; Sonaha and her family still pan for gold, but with the fish scarce, their primary means of livelihood has shifted to livestock like many other families in Tikapur and Rajapur, supported by national and local institutions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_23d679da5c49f22342b4fd80f0d0ec5a1fb4c38fb4ac379d276a959f435b4f68.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260116130120_23d679da5c49f22342b4fd80f0d0ec5a1fb4c38fb4ac379d276a959f435b4f68" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> <figcaption>Local communities whose livelihoods are linked with the Karnali river have been supported by organisations like WWF Nepal and other national and local organisations to set up alternative means of income generation.</figcaption> </figure>  Ashmita Tharu and Pratima Tharu also used to depend on fish, but now have shifted to vegetable farming in Rajapur. This time of year, there is spinach, cucumber, and cauliflower ready to be sold to nearby markets. The women are now financially independent and actively contribute to their household expenses and their children’s education. Said Pratima: “We used to fish in this river without thinking about the consequences. We had no idea how important conservation was.”&nbsp; Ashmita nods in agreement. “Now, we are self-employed and so busy with our vegtables that we do not even have time to fish anymore,” she said. With Tikapur and Rajapur municipalities leading the charge, conservationists hope that other local governments and communities along other rivers in Nepal will follow suit to preserve aquatic biodiversity.&nbsp; “This initiative from the two municipalities is a milestone in conservation,” said Bijay Shrestha of the Dolphin Conservation Centre. “This will serve as a model and can be replicated across the country to conserve our freshwater habitat and the people who rely on them.” Local officials also hope that the sanctuary will provide an opportunity to explore options like fishing tourism. &nbsp; Said Tikapur Mayor Ram Lal Dangaura Tharu: “The Karnali, with its biodiversity, is a river of opportunity and possibility, we are determined to protect it, and make what this river has to offer known to Nepal and the world.” &nbsp; This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG"> </figure>

Karnali Aquatic Reserve

The series <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/looking-good-by-doing-good">Nepal Made</a> profiles world-class Nepali products and the people behind them. Deepak Acharya was born and raised in Simara, before his uncle took him to Pokhara when he was only in sixth grade. After class, he helped sell jackets and outdoor gear at his uncle's Lakeside store. &nbsp; Twenty-two years later, &nbsp;Acharya is still selling jackets. Not international brands like he used to, but products of his own outdoor gear company, DOLPO.&nbsp; Acharya and his brother-in-law, Krishna Ammai, started making and selling jackets and gear for international companies out of Thamel. After losing his business partner in the 2015 earthquake, he was done selling imported items. He launched his own line of outerwear, named after Nepal’s rugged and remote district, known for its stunning arid landscape. The careful selection of the name DOLPO paid off. It took off, providing a high-quality, affordable Nepal-made alternative to foreign companies.&nbsp; “A lot of work went into choosing the name Dolpo,” says Acharya, who considered what came into people’s minds when they heard the name of a place with double-O sound. “I wanted a brand that local customers would instantly relate to toughness and mountains.” The elegant logo reflects this as well, made up of two overlapping rounded triangles denoting mountains with a third peak in the middle. Underneath is ‘DOLPO’ in upper case sans serif.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116120148_968d9354094049265372d851d0e44e16ae4fc86b5631481e365e6e977f13d37d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260116120148_968d9354094049265372d851d0e44e16ae4fc86b5631481e365e6e977f13d37d" data-rendition-name="original" width="854" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DOLPO</figcaption> </figure>  RIGHT QUALITY, RIGHT PRICE “Our philosophy is Right quality, Right price,” says co-founder Deepak Acharya, adding with a smile that the pricing strategy of a particular competitor has made business easy: “The employees at North Face may sell North Face, but they wear Dolpo.” The rebranding was so successful that Acharya regrets not launching it sooner. The reason for the success is that the outdoor gear market in Nepal has taken off with more and more domestic tourists trekking in the high mountains to share their adventures on social media.&nbsp; Nepalis seem to be consciously choosing sustainable, Nepal made products of international quality. Acharya says: “Of course, there will always be a demographic that only wears North Face, or Sonam. But we have the right design, right price philosophy.”&nbsp; DOLPO uses fabric and material mainly from Japan, and adheres to strict quality control. The reversible down jackets, windcheaters, shorts, fleece-lined pants, trekking trousers, backpacks, and polo shirts can be bought through its website, or two exclusive flagship stores in Sorakhutte and Thamel Chok. “After the rebrand, we slowly made a digital platform, marketed online, and worked with a delivery company to get items directly to buyers,” says Acharya. “We have no brokers or middlemen to keep prices low for the consumer.” DOLPO is a family business with Acharya’s mother and sister also involved, and nephew Nishant Ammai driving digital sales. Acharya points out that there is a lot of business opportunity in Nepal, as there are too many low-quality products being sold at too high a price. &nbsp;“The market is begging for an auto-correction,” he says. For Nepal’s pessimistic youth who are fleeing the country, Acharya urges patience: “The younger generation wants shortcuts. The mindset is to set up a venture and in three years they will be set for life. But this is not how success works.” “Choose a field, put in ten years of effort, really learn about it, and then you will see the vast possibility present in Nepal,” he continues.&nbsp; Last month, the DOLPO logo was seen on the jerseys of the Biratnagar Kings in NPL 2. The company made hats, jackets, and jerseys for star-studded cricket players including Lokesh Bam, Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf Du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. The Kings finished second in the group, and although Acharya is a football fan, he is happy to contribute to the rise of cricket in Nepal. &nbsp;&nbsp;

Proud to wear DOLPO

Illegal wildlife trade is the fourth most lucrative trafficking crime after drugs, humans, and weapons. Most wildlife ends up in China and Southeast Asia to be used mainly in traditional medicine or as bushmeat. Nepal is both the source and transit for wildlife trafficking, and while the authorities have been successful in protecting flagship mammals like tigers, rhinos, and leopards, the country still serves as a major transit point for less popular wildlife. Despite strict laws against wildlife crimes members of indigenous communities are easily tempted by organised transboundary criminals. They are recruited to poach endangered animals and plants, and end up in jail, while ring leaders are rarely caught.&nbsp; Many are not hardened criminals, just regular folk like Bishnu Adhikari, 30, who served time in Kathmandu’s Central Jail. He had gone with a friend to sell pangolin scales without knowing it was illegal and that the punishment was so harsh. Bikash Chhetri, a Grade 11 student, was riding a motorcycle with college friends when they were intercepted by the Central Investigation Bureau (CIB). Chhetri says he had no idea his &nbsp;friend was carrying the contraband in his bag. Both Adhikari and Chettri served five years in jail. But most people from Nepal’s indigenous communities are often unaware of the protected status or importance of the wildlife they were recruited to smuggle, handle, or transport. “Most of indigenous people involved in wildlife trade in Nepal are not criminals, they are poor and live near protected areas are simply trying to support their families, and mostly it is opportunistic killing,” says wildlife researcher Kumar Paudel of Greenhood Nepal. “Often they are exploited by higher-ups in the ladder of organised crime.” Paudel filed a petition at the Supreme Court in 2018, and the Supreme Court five years later ordered the government to implement the law in a full, fair, and consistent manner. One of the indigenous communities is the semi-nomadic Chepang who have a long tradition of eating fruit bats. Dibesh Karmacharya of the Center of Molecular Dynamics Nepal in Kathmandu has been looking into new diseases for over a decade and a half, and this community in Makwanpur next to Chitwan National Park was selected. “Bats are known to carry viruses and bacteria, which are not harmful to them, but when humans get exposed the microbes can mutate and become pathogens with high transmissibility,” explains Karmacharya, who found that many Chepang had been imprisoned for poaching.&nbsp; “Indigenous communities are often disenfranchised and at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, and need some kind of income,” says Karmacharya. “They are hunter-gatherers and have knowledge of the land as well as wildlife, so they get recruited by wildlife traffickers often getting caught, and not those who hire them.” CLIMATE FACTOR Global warming has meant that vectors that carry pathogens, as well as animals, are also moving to higher altitudes. As temperature rises, glaciers melt, and previously barren slopes have vegetation. Many mammals, such as common leopards, which are found in the foothills are moving up the mountains to share the habitat of snow leopards. Tigers have also been known to move out of Tarai national parks to seek cooler climes in the Mahabharata Range. Besides the risk of being caught, indigenous communities also are exposed to disease when they handle wildlife and harvest organs. In the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic, there was speculation that the virus had jumped from pangolins to humans, which has since been disproven. Even so, pangolins are the world’s most trafficked mammal. The scales of the anteater are thought to have medical properties and are used in traditional Chinese medicine in China, as well as eaten as a delicacy in parts of Asia. Tulshi Laxmi Suwal of the Small Mammals Conservation and Research Foundation (SMCRF), who did her PhD on pangolins from Taiwan, says there is a link between climate, increased human-wildlife contact, and emerging diseases. “Climate change is directly affecting their food and habitat,” explains Suwal. “Pangolins need a lot of water and if they don’t get it ectoparasites under their scales might be easily released to their surroundings. But water is becoming scarcer with climate breakdown.”&nbsp; Researcher Kumar Paudel says law enforcement must be driven not so much by the total number of traffickers arrested, but by the goal of discouraging people from participating in the trade. This means fair and accountable implementation of the law so that indigenous people are not disproportionately impacted.&nbsp; Some ring leaders involved in tiger and rhino poaching have been arrested, but a handful of them staged jailbreaks during the September GenZ protests and are again at large — raising the risk that poaching may increase.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260114100128_e7a6891c2980aa132dd3e4644b752008bd367dd6e868790d4dbae5aa626a2764.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260114100128_e7a6891c2980aa132dd3e4644b752008bd367dd6e868790d4dbae5aa626a2764" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="rhino"> <figcaption>Two greater one-horned rhinoceroses at Chitwan National Park in Nepal. Photo: WIKIMEDIA COMMONS</figcaption> </figure>  “Investigation must move to the upper echelons of the trade,” says Paudel. “And indigenous people need alternative livelihoods and education so they are not easily recruited to hunt down wildlife.”&nbsp; The solution may lie in small, local incentives that can help communities realise the importance of conservation while also empowering them, socially and economically. One such example is the Pangolin Trail in Bagh Bhairav Community Forest in Kirtipur near Kathmandu. After their study found the community forest to be a habitat for pangolins and endangered bird species, SMCRF built a trekking trail which has since been handed over to the local community which can get income from visitor fees. The local government has expanded the trail, added an information center, and runs clean-up campaigns. This gave the local Tamang community of 100 households a sense of ownership and agency. Local villagers have been trained to become citizen scientists, and help in recording pangolin behaviour. One of them is Sun Laxmi Pakhrin, who is not formally educated, but works in pangolin protection using GPS tracking systems and camera traps.&nbsp; A community previously notorious for theft, drug trafficking and wildlife poaching is now reformed. Families are also involved in small businesses such as poultry. Suwal says: “Women in indigenous communities are now in decision-making roles and the guardians of nature and wildlife.” With contribution from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

Indigenous people pay price for poaching

Music isn’t just a rhythm or melody, it is an emotion that connects. Music is art, it is culture and it is a way of life. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13945">Nepali folk instrumental band Kutumba</a> has exemplified this for 22 years, as it now gives back to society. Kutumba first rose to prominence for its use of traditional instruments such as sarangi, tugna and damaha during classical music performances in Nepal and across the world. Nepal was at the peak of the Maoist war, and Kutumba spread the message of unity through music, and bringing instruments from across the country to one stage. Tugna is mostly played in the mountains and dholak in the Tarai, Kutumba also integrated dhime and bhusyah played during festivals in Kathmandu Valley. “We want people to take pride in playing traditional instruments, our journey started with the use of traditional instruments that connected with the audience,” says Pavit Maharjan, one of the six members of the band. He adds: “The country’s situation further pushed us to continue playing music for the longer run. When the country was divided between mountain and Tarai, we aimed to spread the message that we all are one through our music.” The rest of the band is made up of Arun Manandhar, Kiran Nepali, Raju Maharjan, Rubin Kumar Shrestha and Siddhartha Maharjan, and is managed by Arun Gurung. SCHOOL TO SCHOOL Before long, Kutumba was touring the country and spreading the message of unity, peace and compassion. During one of the tours in Khokana in southern Lalitpur, band members heard that students at a nearby school write notes on cigarettes and other pieces of paper because they couldn’t afford basic stationery.&nbsp; This eventually led to the ‘School-to School’ project. Students from private schools are encouraged to donate notebooks and stationery which is then distributed to schools in remote parts of the country.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260108110144_5f6ad701a6a55432017925a9836ca385a933fd8a8c5a0e3c994843e04599c050.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260108110144_5f6ad701a6a55432017925a9836ca385a933fd8a8c5a0e3c994843e04599c050" data-rendition-name="original" width="3036" height="1818" loading="lazy" alt="Kutumba school to school project"> <figcaption>Imperial Academy in Kathmandu with their donation of stationaries for less priviledged students.</figcaption> </figure>  “The aim is that students learn about Nepali traditional music and instruments while also helping underprivileged students,” says manager Arun Gurung as he explains that the band performs in both sets of schools. The project carried out in collaboration with International Sound Service (ISS) and Kutumba has performed in 222 schools in 16 years, benefitting over 200,000 students all over Nepal. Schools on both the ends go through careful selection. Says Shibir Shakya of ISS: “Most schools mobilise their students for the event management, making them keener and more interested in Nepali traditional instruments.” Kutumba finances most of its events through sponsors who fund the band and the sound while local communities arrange food for the crew and stage. Nepali traditional instruments often do not get the credit and recognition they deserve. Many people have left playing traditional instruments such as sarangi owing to the societal tag of class and hierarchy associated with them. “We complain that there aren’t enough facilities and services in the country, but what have we done to subsidise it with the available resources?” questions Maharjan.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260108110144_0d213755ea7bce5b7cf8108b36457e55fa814d4bf92a4dd7ef57cba2768ac801.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260108110144_0d213755ea7bce5b7cf8108b36457e55fa814d4bf92a4dd7ef57cba2768ac801" data-rendition-name="original" width="3936" height="2216" loading="lazy" alt="Kutumba school to school project"> <figcaption>Kutumba performing at Maitri Sishu School in Swayambhu.</figcaption> </figure>  Music, especially with traditional instruments, plays a crucial role in bridging the gap, connecting people and bringing about gradual change, and Kutumba has paved a way with its school-to-school project. As Shibir Shakya of the International Sound Service says: “Giving starts from oneself. Then only can you influence and encourage others to do the same.”&nbsp;

Music to our ears

This is the 79th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. <h2>Jitu Mahato</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_c150516456fed4f4408836b4b955ab937ec54df96456f1f2836d138c597ef7e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260111140148_c150516456fed4f4408836b4b955ab937ec54df96456f1f2836d138c597ef7e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Jitu Mahato</figcaption> </figure>  I have three sons. My eldest worked in Saudi Arabia for ten years and then went to Dubai. My second son has lived in Dubai for four years. My youngest worked in Malaysia but came back after his company went bankrupt. Here, we don’t have much land so what they have earned has helped with the grandchildren’s education and other household expenses. My sons feed me, buy my clothes and medication. I take loans from others when I need it for our work in the field and pay them off when they send me money. My farm work is not affected without them here because they had no interest in खेती बारी anyway, even when they were here they did not want to step in the fields. Many youth have migrated from our village. Some have gone to Malaysia, others to the Gulf. Some have done well, others have not. Some buy land or pay off loans, others come back without saving much.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_086cc14e33c827865d30c07b18bf34d0d06427459ba7b44f6f9ff6b84264e9d7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260111140148_086cc14e33c827865d30c07b18bf34d0d06427459ba7b44f6f9ff6b84264e9d7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Jitu Mahato with a scooter that his son brought him.</figcaption> </figure>  Children can go to school wearing better clothes because of the money migrants send home. There are both good and bad sides of foreign employment. The earnings help because without it we would die hungry. But there are no young men in the village, everyone is abroad. We are old. We are not educated. Even small things like paperwork that require someone who knows how to read and write become inconvenient without them around. During hardships, it becomes more difficult and whoever is left behind comes together to help each other in whatever way we can. My son recently bought me a scooter, as I am getting older and it has become difficult to get around. It has made it convenient to visit my daughters' house and other places. <h2>Mohan Bahadur Karki</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_cc859f5911adbc106596042b13f89007ea09652046683397351a4f7ef11bab2e.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260111140148_cc859f5911adbc106596042b13f89007ea09652046683397351a4f7ef11bab2e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1446" height="796" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Mahan Bahadur Karki and his wife.</figcaption> </figure>  All three of our sons are working in Malaysia. We had trouble feeding ourselves so they wanted to go and earn for the family. Having sons overseas has helped ensure we can survive, and have clothes to wear. We used to live in a mud house in the past, which had to be repaired over and over again. Now we have a concrete house. All our children and grandchildren should have been living with us, but feels empty sometimes with just the two of us.&nbsp; We have moved many times in our life. This is the ninth place we are living in. Now we won’t move. My son sent the design of the house from Malaysia. He sent a picture of a house he liked from there to the contractor here. It is an exact replica, and people even come here to make Tiktok and music videos.&nbsp; Even in my dreams, I never thought I would one day live in a house like this. Our sons were smart, and managed it. People get surprised that I, a labourer who worked in others’ fields, live in a house like this, but we still have outstanding loans for this house. Many youth from our village have left. Some have lost their jobs and returned. Ours are thankfully okay so far, but one of our sons' companies has started laying off workers so he might be next on the list. Overtime hours have also been cut in Malaysia, they say. We will see.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_504a381f7e06431c61d75a4e890e48a786f9b3eea4e23d280dd55161378ce84d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260111140148_504a381f7e06431c61d75a4e890e48a786f9b3eea4e23d280dd55161378ce84d" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> </figure>  We have faced too many difficulties during our lifetime. We don’t know what is waiting for us next. All our lives, we have faced difficult periods uncertain about the next day, the next night. Life has been full of tests. Farming is not reliable because the rains are erratic. Too much of it this year. It was okay for paddy, but not for tomatoes. As you get older, you cannot work as much. While you have your youth, you can earn. I never got to migrate overseas, I grew old just ploughing fields. I did not get an opportunity to study. I don’t even know how to write my name. I worked as a labourer all my life to take care of the family because the land did not produce enough. Now I cannot work, even if I wanted to. I am not so strong anymore, and my mind is not as sharp. Thankfully my sons have taken over and they tell us not to work hard and to rest, they will take care of us.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_2f483a1ed383f6697f928147b2d1ab5544cca96ae4902a31ca353c135ec0bb67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260111140148_2f483a1ed383f6697f928147b2d1ab5544cca96ae4902a31ca353c135ec0bb67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> </figure>  They remind me not to carry heavy loads or push myself too hard in the fields. I have started getting sick more frequently. I spend quite a lot on medication. At some point, I had become near immobile for two months and could not even go to the bathroom. I had to come back from Kathmandu with medicine that cost Rs14,000. If my sons had not gone overseas, we would be relying on our farming. Things would have been tougher. We don’t know how long they will stay overseas. I heard there is a limit of ten years in Malaysia. Once they are back, maybe they will go back to the fields. What other option do they have? But we cannot always rely on overseas work either. What to do? Life’s challenges don’t go away but you have to figure ways out to deal with them. As long as there is even one breath left, we must keep fighting. <h2>Tukra Bahadur Ale Magar / Gangi Maya Ale</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_8111f8c7205ccf48f9671e1fd3661aec32bd522819447c648037f84b70a0b55f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260111140148_8111f8c7205ccf48f9671e1fd3661aec32bd522819447c648037f84b70a0b55f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Tukra Bahadur and Gangi Maya Ale.</figcaption> </figure>  [Gangi] My son is in Malaysia. He sends us money and we spend on household expenses. I wish we could save money too but we have not been able to. It balances out. He could not get a job here, so he left. Parents do not want to send their children away, but what could we do? We have to spend Rs3,000 just on medicines every month. I am always worried about my son, it's not the same as having them in front of me. When he falls sick, there is no one around and he does not even get to take time off without wage deduction. Those things worry me, having him around was more assuring. Before Malaysia, he worked in Dubai for six years and was back here for two years in between. He got married then and re-migrated as responsibilities increased. The earnings of Dubai is this house. [Tukra] We used to have a small mud house but my son said we should invest in a stronger house. I did not go abroad myself because it was not common in our village back then. But now it has become a trend and our son also left. I wish I had got to migrate as well. By not migrating, I think I did not get to see the world. How is the world? How is it to earn abroad? I have never been in a plane, I just have six goats and the farm. Everything is going alright. <h2>Nirmala Rana Magar</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_92f559b9b08434a9eaeddaee13ae180304453dd300a24e7b86a8dbab78e454f6.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260111140148_92f559b9b08434a9eaeddaee13ae180304453dd300a24e7b86a8dbab78e454f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1388" height="797" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Nirmala Rana Magar</figcaption> </figure>  Two of my sons are abroad. One in Kuwait, the other in Malaysia. The younger son migrated more recently and his earnings have mostly gone to pay off recruitment loans. The elder son built this house for us. Before this, we lived in a mud house which I had built with the earnings when I worked in India. &nbsp;Money is important but I miss my sons everyday. I have a lot of love for them. When you have your children, you have the world. We talk in the mornings and evenings via video calls.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_b66a6e79992800e5525b65993fa589b126b58c4a1c549a010ca88ece85891608.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260111140148_b66a6e79992800e5525b65993fa589b126b58c4a1c549a010ca88ece85891608" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> </figure>  They had to move overseas because we could not survive on their earnings here. We can now afford the school fees of the granddaughters, but their dads around would have been better for them. But what can we do? We had no choice. The recent GenZ protests gave us some hope that things will be better, but it is still unsure. When will the day of the poor come? Will we ever get to live a decent life? No matter what happens, no matter who is in government, it is the poor like us who suffer. So many governments have changed but we are stuck where we were. If our children got good jobs, we would be happy.

Our migrant sons

The Kathmandu Valley has attracted an exceptional number of outstanding and accomplished foreigners over the decades, but few as extraordinary as Marilyn Silverstone (1929-1999).&nbsp; Frances Klatzel’s book A Portrait of Ourselves, Marilyn Silverstone: From Photojournalist to Buddhist Nun, is a fitting and fascinating biographical celebration of this American woman whose life of unusual choices took her, as the title suggests, from an affluent Jewish childhood in Scarsdale, New York to becoming an acclaimed and adventurous Magnum photographer.&nbsp; Roving the world, her camera captured many of the most iconic events of the 20th century, her images were published in Time, Life, Newsweek, Look, National Geographic, Paris Match, Vogue and other magazines. Following the teachings of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, Marilyn Silverstone devoted the last twenty years of her eventful life to living quietly and practising Buddhism in Nepal. Ordained as a Buddhist nun, she took vows in the sanctified Solukhumbu precincts of Thubten Choling with Venerable Trulshik Rinpoche in the spring of 1977. Living in Kathmandu until her death in Shechen Monastery, which she helped create, Marilyn wrote: ‘When I look back over the years, although I did not know it at the time, ending my life as a Buddhist nun was logical and inevitable.’&nbsp; Ani Marilyn was a familiar figure amid the sacred spaces of the Valley, the lanes of Boudha and even Kathmandu’s drawing rooms during my early years in Nepal, a large smiling presence draped in maroon robes, dyed sneakers, slightly whiskered, robust.&nbsp; As a wedding gift she gave Tenzin and I an inscribed copy of her slim volume, Ocean of Life, aptly named for the span of her achievements and expansive embrace – editor, translator, writer, filmmaker, photographer, journalist and Buddhist nun. Marilyn’s nephew wrote: ‘Her legacy was that she was always herself no matter what chapter of her life that she was living.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_70d489c3d161f59668f315ede60cbb213d365357b0a9f2d7aad3b537a14dcb5e.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260122100124_70d489c3d161f59668f315ede60cbb213d365357b0a9f2d7aad3b537a14dcb5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1164" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Ani Marilyn"> <figcaption>Ani Marilyn as a Tibetan Buddhist nun at Shechen Monastery in Boudha.</figcaption> </figure>  Working with a wide range of impeccable sources, Frances Klatzel has assembled first-hand the personal recollections and unsparing insights from Marilyn’s most intimate friends. One of these, Jane Abell Coon, wrote the Introduction. She was a well-known person in 1980s Kathmandu whose husband Carlton Coon served as American Ambassador to Nepal and she simultaneously as American Ambassador in Bangladesh.&nbsp; The book begins with a rare message from the 14th Dalai Lama and a touching Foreword by Venerable Rabjam Rinpoche. It ends with exquisite excerpts from a Buddhist religious tract that Marilyn had translated from its traditional Tibetan text. Marilyn’s initial trip to India was to photograph Ravi Shankar in 1955, the classical sitar maestro. Increasingly fascinated by ‘the complex and compassionate culture’ of Tibet, her Himalayan archives include images throughout India, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan.&nbsp; The first internationally accredited photojournalist to base herself in India, from 1959 Marilyn lived in Bombay then Delhi, with her lifelong partner Frank Moraes, the Goan journalist, writer, commentator and first Indian editor of the Times of India after Independence. INDIAN INFLUENCERS I remember being taken to meet the legendary Frank Moraes in 1973, by then politically exiled in Marilyn’s elegant but chaotic London house, a magnet for South Asian intellectuals. She was not there, but Frank’s son the poet Dom Moraes was slumped desultory on a sagging sofa. My impression of Frank was well-dressed, polite and slightly distracted. Marilyn’s talent for friendship and wide network of Indian influencers and princely connections gave her unique access to historic events, as well as recording refugees, rituals, droughts, floods, famines and funerals. In addition to maharajahs and global leaders, her images portray personal moments, ordinary people, unflinching pain and flashes of joy. She said: ‘In my job, the closer you get to people, the better off you are.’ This book is illustrated with a thrilling trove of pictures of and by Marilyn, many of which reflect the impact of Henri Cartier-Bresson who signed her up as one of the first women to join his prestigious Magnum photo cooperative.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_6dfdef41da5945aea0a8bbd8c1514af5de2adb36361d4e20c29914c59f2039e0.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100124_6dfdef41da5945aea0a8bbd8c1514af5de2adb36361d4e20c29914c59f2039e0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2124" height="1404" loading="lazy" alt="Ani Marilyn"> </figure>  Her assignments ranged across warzones in Vietnam, the Shah of Iran’s coronation, and Russian tanks rolling into Prague. Marilyn’s 1960s involved constant travel, her Magnum beat was the ‘Far East’, from Pakistan and Bangladesh to China, Korea, and Japan.&nbsp; With a knack at being in the right place at the right time, Marilyn was the only western woman journalist to record the arrival from Lhasa into ‘safety and exile’ of the young Dalai Lama in 1959. She was at Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s funeral in Delhi, the Chogyal of Sikkim’s marriage to Hope Cooke, and with Jacqueline Kennedy on a small boat at the Lake Palace of Udaipur.&nbsp; Marilyn snapped the Pope giving blessings in Bombay, Mother Teresa attending to the poor, and the Beatles on their way to meet the Maharishi. With Frank, she travelled to Africa and shot Emperor Haile Selassie in Ethiopia, Nigeria’s independence celebrations, and a very old and solar-topied Dr Albert Schweitzer in his jungle hospital in Gabon.&nbsp; A Portrait of Ourselves, Marilyn Silverstone: From Photojournalist to Buddhist Nun, is a highly recommended tribute to an inspirational life, told with discerning honesty and private perceptions by those who knew her best.&nbsp; Her monastic years living in Nepal continued to feature travel, hard work, undiminished curiosity, dogged fights for right, uncompromising support for others, disdain for conformity and battles with ill health, but all with her characteristic good humour. Marilyn leaves us with some sound advice in her own words: “I can say that I did it all. The secret though is just keep walking through life without analysing it too much or clinging to it too much. Just walk on.” &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100140_dc0c465e462bd14e92b2a2e79b5349f23fa039bcda81cc02a9a70adbcee35c7b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100140_dc0c465e462bd14e92b2a2e79b5349f23fa039bcda81cc02a9a70adbcee35c7b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="marilyn silverstone"> </figure>

“Just walk on”

The pale green ice on the top of the lake gleams in the pale January sunlight. The dark waters beneath are visible through the translucent frozen surface. This is Thulagi Glacial Lake at the foot of Mt Manaslu in central Nepal, classified as one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up">most dangerous lakes </a>to appear in the Himalaya due to climate heating.&nbsp; The place is breathtaking not just because of its 4,050m altitude, but the scenery all around. The beauty belies the threat this expanding lake poses downstream along the Marsyangdi Valley. &nbsp; The lake lies at the terminus of the 4.5km long Thulagi Glacier. The local Gurung inhabitants call it Dona Tal. They say it started appearing in the 1960s. Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung, 47, has been ferrying trekkers to the spot for about 20 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>MELTING MOUNTAINS: Thulagi Glacial Lake in Manang has been identified among 47 lakes in Nepal at risk of an outburst flood because of climate breakdown. All photos: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Yaks graze below Thulagi Himal (7,059m) and Mt Manaslu (8,163m) along the Dona Khola that drains the lake.</figcaption> </figure>  “Dona used to be small, but it has now grown bigger,” he says, gesturing to how the glacier has receded and shrunk. Trekkers used to be able to go to the other side, but now the glacier is riddled with ponds and boulders falling off the moraine that make it dangerous.&nbsp; Gurung adds rather matter-of-factly: “The lake will burst sooner or later.”&nbsp; Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) has been studying Thulagi for the past two decades. Topographic maps from the 1960s and early satellite images show the lake being much smaller.&nbsp; When the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-resource-curse">Marsyangdi Hydropower Project</a> project was being built in 1994, the German Institute of Geology and Natural Resources with the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology measured the lake to be already 2km in length. More recent surveys show the lake has increased its size since then to more than 1 sq km. &nbsp; The lake is among 47 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/meltpools-in-the-himalaya">dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal and Tibet </a>&nbsp;identified by ICIMOD in 2020 due to its size, the risk of landslides and avalanches, and the gradual collapse of the lake’s ice-core moraine dam.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung has been taking trekkers up to Thulagi Lake for 20 years.</figcaption> </figure>  In 2018 a team of glaciologists led by Umesh K Haritasya <a href="https://www.mdpi.com/2072-4292/10/5/798">published a journal article</a> about the evolution of three glacial lakes including Thulagi, Lower Barun, and Imja. Even back in 1976, Thulagi was twice the size of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Diverting-danger,3172">Imja glacial lake</a> in the Khumbu and six times the size of the Lower Barun. The team measured the lake’s depth at 79m, and calculated that it held 36.1 million m3 of water. Since then, Thulagi has been growing at a slower rate than the other two lakes because it is shielded by shadows of mountains. There is also not as much glacial calving in the narrow valley.&nbsp; Nonetheless, scientists and experts have long warned that a Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) from Thulagi poses a big risk to four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and settlements like Besisahar and Dumre (map).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504" data-rendition-name="original" width="2076" height="1444" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi map"> </figure>  The lake feeds into Dona Khola, a tributary of the Marsyangdi where the 49.9MW Dona Khola hydropower project is being built at a cost of Rs10 billion. Another 42MW Super Dona Khola project is planned on the river. “One of the trigger points that could lead to a glacial lake outburst could be the steep lateral moraine, which might be weakened by rapidly melting permafrost,” says Scott Watson, a University of Leeds researcher who was part of the team that conducted the 2018 study. Locals are already witnessing what Watson describes. They say that it was easy to reach Thulagi’s headwaters even until a few years ago, but that is now dangerous because of ice and rockfalls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1426" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>The 50MW Upper Marsyangdi Hydropower Project station in Lamjung. A Thulagi Lake outburst would damage four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and its tributaries.</figcaption> </figure>  GLOF WARNING&nbsp; Glaciologist Rijan Bhakta Kayastha has been studying Thulagi since 1994, and was part of a team that discovered that the lake’s terminal moraine was made up of rocky soil on top and ice at its core.&nbsp; In 2020, Kayastha's team published a study that modelled the route of a possible GLOF. They found that if the lake burst, it would take 2.5 hours to reach Dharapani, and 4 hours to reach Bahundanda 39km downstream. The surge would be 13.7m high at Dharapani and 15m by the time it reached Taal, the village most at risk because it is situated only a few metres above the Marsyangdi. ‘Considering the size of the Thulagi glacial lake and its dam, it seems unlikely that a rock fall or avalanche would cause the lake to breach the moraine dam,” concluded the study. “But an earthquake or climate change would require a separate study. At present, there is no immediate or imminent threat of this glacier bursting.” MEMORIES OF 2021 Across Manang valley, residents are haunted by the memories of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">2021 flood on the Marsyangdi</a> that swept away parts of Chame, Dharapani, Naso, and Taal villages.&nbsp; Kamarkali Gurung, grew up on the banks of the Marsyangdi in Dharapani, and had never imagined that the tranquil river she knew could become such a monster. She had saved up to build her own three-story property with 17 rooms.&nbsp; Her family was away that June evening when the flood swept away her hotel. “Not even a spoon remained, everything was gone,” says Kamarkali. “Losing the hotel hurt like losing a loved one. The Marsyangdi flows through my house now, I can never go back.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>SURVIVORS: Kamarkali Gurung's hotel was swept away by the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi. She now operates her hotel from a rented house in Dharapani.</figcaption> </figure>  Surendra Gurung, also a hotelier, was in Dharapani the night of the flood, and can still remember the fear as the river roared towards the village. “I did not know if I would live or die,” he says.&nbsp; Sirantal village was merely 10m above the Marsyangdi, and was completely destroyed by the flood. Thirty-two people were rescued by army helicopters, and most of the families have now relocated to Taal.&nbsp; One of them is Singha Bahadur Gurung who also ran a lodge for 20 years. “We did not have to buy anything except rice, the soil in Sirantal was so fertile,” he remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Singha Bahadur Gurung operated a lodge in Sirantal before the flood swept it away in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  Marsyangdi now flows through where Singha Gurung’s village used to be. “Ever since the flood, I am terrified every time it rains from June to August,” he says.&nbsp; The 2021 flood was during the monsoon, and was caused by unusually heavy rainfall in the catchment. A GLOF on the Marsyangdi would be much more destructive. Roshni Ghale, 46, runs a hotel in Taal, and escaped with her family to a nearby cave as the flood engulfed nearby homes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Roshni Ghale spent six months after the 2021 flood rebuilding her hotel in Taal. Tourism has steadily picked up in the four years since the flood. </figcaption> </figure>  “We spent the next six months after the flood rebuilding our lives, going to bed hungry many a night,” she recalls. In the four years since, tourism has picked up again, but the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unseen-wounds-of-climate-disasters"> community is still traumatised</a>. In the wake of the floods, the government had begun talks to rehabilitate and repatriate the community, but until now, they have been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/from-one-disaster-to-the-next">empty promises</a>. In any case, the people here, most of them experienced hoteliers whose livelihood depends on tourism, are unwilling to uproot their lives and start over elsewhere.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Most of the survivors of the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi from villages like Sirantal have relocated to the upstream village of Taal, which itself was hit by a monsoon flood in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  DISASTER PREPAREDNESS Even though studies have assessed the risk of GLOFs in Manang and across Nepal, and warned about the damage that such floods could cause, it took until 2021 for early warning systems to be installed on the banks of the Marsyangdi and in the town of Taal.&nbsp; But beyond that, there has been little preparedness. Early warning systems and disaster preparedness are necessary not just along the Marsyangdi but also at and around Thulagi itself, say experts. Locals here are becoming increasingly aware of the risk posed by the expanding lake up the valley, but are reluctant to leave homes and communities that they have lived in for generations. The hydropower projects on the Dona Khola promises jobs, and the local government is upgrading the hiking trail to Thulagi Lake which has become a tourist attraction. “Manang now gets <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/too-little-snow-too-much-rain">too little snow and too much rain</a>, and the Marsyangdi charts its own course,” says Min Rashi Gurung, chair of Ward-1 of Naso rural municipality, where Thulagi is located. &nbsp; But help may be on the way.Last year, the Green Climate Fund (GCF) approved a $36.1 million grant to help Nepal reduce risk of GLOFs in Thulagi and four other glacial lakes. The project is managed by the government and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). The project is set to begin next fiscal year, and will reduce the water level in the four glacial lakes including Thulagi, similar to what was done in Imja and Tso Rolpa, says Dinkar Kayastha at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology. &nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism - Nepal

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