Over the generations, most people in the village of Mulpani have moved out. They have retired from foreign military service and live in Pokhara, Hong Kong or London. Younger people work in Qatar or Malaysia.&nbsp; Amrit Gurung has done the opposite. Nepal’s most famous folk-rock musician has come home.&nbsp; “They think I am crazy,” admits the 56-year-old Nepathya lead vocalist, just back from a gruelling month-long concert tour of Australia.&nbsp; It has been 13 years since Gurung settled down in his ancestral village near Pokhara, surrounded by forests. He has set up his home in the family livestock shed below the village close to a perennial spring. There are no neighbours nearby.&nbsp; Gurung grows everything he needs: rice, legumes, vegetables, even honey and poultry. The forest has grown back, and this means keeping wildlife away from crops. The monkeys are smarter, Gurung says, and arrive in force for breakfast on the dot every morning. In the evenings, the porcupines are regular dinner guests. “The monkeys break off corn stalks and run off with one cob in each arm and one in the mouth,” says Gurung, doing a hilarious imitation. “I have to be constantly on guard, and have to bang on tin plates to chase them off.” All this lends an intimacy to Gurung’s childhood memory of growing up close to the land. Inspiration flows freely, and he often ventures out into the stillness of the night with his guitar as deer rustle in the undergrowth. The animals have come to accept him as part of their ecosystem.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023031611034_1863b8adb19d52119e5c91b7975a1b0ffac8fc337607f24a153591b9d1e4b44e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023031611034_1863b8adb19d52119e5c91b7975a1b0ffac8fc337607f24a153591b9d1e4b44e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2636" height="2053" loading="lazy" alt="Amrit Gurung in his farm"> <figcaption>Amrit Gurung in his farm near Pokhara.(Photo: Arpan Sharma)</figcaption> </figure>  “I write most of my music like this, or on the go when I travel,” says Gurung. It helps that the Mulpani air is clean, the water clear, and nature exudes a sense of calm and contentment. He does travel down to Kathmandu for rehearsals, but finds the city chaotic, dirty and polluted. “It is painful to see how we have made cities unliveable,” he says. “Perhaps we have forgotten to think about anyone but ourselves.” Nevertheless, Gurung is anything but despondent, and gives expression to his attachment and hope for the country through his compositions.&nbsp; Formed in the early 1990s, Nepathya is the most enduring Nepali band, and its early folk-rock ballads are still wildly popular. No concert is complete without ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbeeEo09A5A&amp;ab_channel=Nepathya">स कर्णाली</a>, ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7_Weqgq1Og&amp;ab_channel=Nepathya">तालको पानी</a>', or the eternal hit ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpeFXed4K6I&amp;ab_channel=Nepathya">रेशम</a>' which marked a milestone in Nepali music video-making. During the conflict, Gurung crisscrossed Nepal on यल शान्तिको लागि शिक्षा peace concert tours.&nbsp; “During the war, we would not see any young people in the villages, there were flowers everywhere but there was no one to wear them,” he recalls, adding, “and after all these years, they declared a People’s War Day to remind people of the suffering.” <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLhPKrMlBXhQ&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="encrypted-media *;"></iframe></div></div>Video: Arpan Sharma</div> During Nepathya’s concerts in Nepal or abroad Amrit Gurung’s core message is always peace and tolerance, either in the lyrics or his short exhortations between songs. In December, Nepathya played across Nepal to raise funds and awareness for Manav Sewa Ashram, a charity that provides homes to the homeless. As part of its Music for Humanity tour, the band then spent a month in Australia with back-to-back concerts in Darwin, Adelaide, Brisbane, Canberra, Perth, Sydney, Melbourne and Hobart. Last month, a sold-out show in Sydney was attended by 6,000 people. “Our message is always that we have to make ourselves and our country,” Gurung says. “The reaction from the audience is always positive. Many Nepalis in Australia want to return, and do what they can for their motherland. When we played ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=biufV1olDes&amp;ab_channel=Nepathya">रातो र चन्द्र सुर्य</a>' or ‘<a href="https://youtu.be/BliMnFmWaBw">गाउँगाउँबाट उठ</a>', I noticed many in the audience weeping openly.” Increasingly, Gurung sees non-Nepalis at his concerts abroad, meaning that even if people do not understand the words, his music has universal appeal. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2Fyo1HVcA_XqU&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="encrypted-media *;"></iframe></div></div></div> Former Australian diplomat Linda Trigg who attended the Canberra concert with her son found the energy of the performance and audience response remarkable. Farmer and entrepreneur couple Joe and Zorica travelled 50km to watch Nepathya in Adelaide. Said Joe: “We couldn’t understand the lyrics, but watching the band play and the audience enjoying it made us feel connected too.” Gurung feels that the real return from these concert tours cannot just be measured in monetary terms. “Even if only 100 of the thousands Nepalis who were there return to Nepal to make real change, that will be enough,” he says. And Amrit Gurung has followed his own songline, charting a path across the land to return to his own beloved village below the Annapurnas.&nbsp;

Ashish Dhakal

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Amrit Gurung, unplugged

<div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe12a79c7e80680e0da534jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1384" height="776">Photo: ANFA</div> Although cricket is the rage right now, football is by far the most sought-after game in Nepal. However, the national team has never made it anywhere close to the World Cup. Yet, when Argentina won the tournament this winter, Nepalis celebrated as if their own team had won. English Premier League, LaLiga and Serie A all have a mass following in the country of 30 million. The latest season of Nepal’s homegrown Martyr’s Memorial (Sahid Smarak) A Division football league is just a week away but there is not much excitement, neither among players nor fans. The Covid-19 pandemic has played a part in dampening the enthusiasm but the inconsistency of the league is a bigger factor. Nepal’s professional footballers are so undermotivated to play that they are not just quitting the game, but the country as well. The league was to start on 10 January earlier this year but after a meeting with 14 competing clubs, the All Nepal Football Association (ANFA) postponed it to 3 March. Football clubs complain that the ANFA is not providing preparation expenses, thus delaying the league. The annual Martyr’s Memorial ‘A’ division football league began in 1954, but since 1987, the tournament has been held only 16 times. There are many reasons: the Maoist insurgency, financial hardship, unstable governments, strikes, lack of infrastructure, the Covid-19 pandemic and the earthquake. And when the league does happen, the matches are tightly scheduled, allowing players limited time to rest and recover before the next game. The league lasts only a couple of months and players are only paid for those months. “We players have to look for local games to keep us afloat,” says Askoh Khawas, a footballer from Biratnagar who plays for Three Star Club. “This is the only thing that keeps us going physically and financially.” <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe12ab9c7e80680e0da535jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"> </div> The 2023 league is returning, but some 45 players who used to play for the ‘A’ division will not because they have either quit football or Nepal. Just last month, five players from major clubs left for Australia: Tej Tamang, Dinesh Rajbanshi, Gautam Shrestha, Nitin Thapa and Ranjan Bista. Only a handful of Nepali players have got an opportunity to play football outside Nepal, the rest have migrated, possibly for good. A Nepali footballer’s lifestyle is not lavish, players do not get the opportunity to train, the games are not played all year round, and training isn’t all year round either. Players do not get offered millions of dollars and are signed into clubs which do not have money even to sustain themselves. Ironically, the Nepali players who have left have been replaced by foreign players some of whom are making good money. “Players from Nepal are going abroad and foreign players are coming to Nepal to play football, it is happening more and more and that is sad,” says national team player Bikram Lama. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe12ae9c7e80680e0da536jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1118" height="688"> </div> Until recently, players and clubs from Kathmandu Valley used to dominate even the limited number of footballing tournaments in the country because talent outside the urban centres did not have the platform or exposure. But this is now changing: most of the players are now from outside Kathmandu. “The primary reason for this shift is that youth in major cities like Kathmandu and Lalitpur now have various other sources for entertainment and do not look forward to playing outside as much,” says Megh Raj KC who coaches Nepal’s Under-20 team. “Children in cities these days also do not have open space to take up football or other team games. But that is not the case in the rest of the country.” But lack of infrastructure continues to be a problem. The passion for football has not allowed for stable income: in the past three years, Nepali footballers have had the opportunity to play for only 10 months, which means they got paid only for that time. Nepal does not lack talent but players are not given optimum opportunity. Newcomers and foreigners might take on spots left by players in domestic leagues, but that does not fill the gap in the national team. Says Megh Raj KC: “At this rate, we will continue to be a footballing country to have never made it anywhere internationally.”

Food vs football

At the corner of a road in Tilottama Municipality that stretches between mustard fields, stands a white one-storey house. In front of it an old tree, and underneath the tree a table and a few chairs.
The neighbourhood is quiet under the pale sun of early spring. The only sounds are of rustling leaves, punctuated by occasional grunts and moos from a nearby shed.
Madan Bhusal, 27, is busy preparing feed for the cattle as his employees clean the shed. Inside, his wife Ambika and sister-in-law Sanchita prepare lunch as they wait for Pawan, Madan’s brother, to return home from their dairy shop.
It has been nearly seven years since the Bhusals moved to Tilottama from Nawalparasi in search of a better life. Over the years, this dairy farm has been their home and the source of a proper livelihood.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees/">Pigs fly and fish climb trees</a>, Sahina Shrestha
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“We moved here because there was a larger market than back in Nawalparasi,” says Madan. “When we started out, there weren’t many commercial dairy farmers here. We saw the opportunity to fill the gap.”
Madan’s parents were farmers too, so he took easily to rearing and milking cows and buffaloes. Like many in their village, their family too was involved in animal husbandry but on a much smaller scale. But as he grew older, Madan felt constricted by the narrow market and wanted to expand the business. He looked at Narayangad and Butwal, studying the dairy market in both the areas.
Of the two, he felt Butwal offered better opportunities. “It was a growing market, and I knew we could tap into it if we strategised and worked hard,” he recalls.
He ferried some of the family livestock from Nawalparasi and started the business from scratch with his brother. The family now owns 16 buffaloes and 45 cows, and together operates Narayani Gai Bikas Farm.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dont-give-up-on-nepal-it-has-lots-to-offer/">Don’t give up on Nepal, it has lots to offer</a>, Sahina Shrestha
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It now produces 350 litres of milk every day which is sold directly to customers through the Pawan Dudh Dairy shop by the highway in Kotihawa. Apart from milk, the farm also produces paneer, yogurt and other dairy products. Business is thriving with an income of Rs150,000-200,000 every month, part of which the family invests back into the business.
“What sets us apart from others is that we don’t mix water in our milk, and we ensure that our products are of the highest quality,” says Madan.
While Madan monitors the production cycle, his brother Pawan handles the daily distribution, delivering milk to the customer base every day. &nbsp;Ambika and Sanchita help out wherever they can, from looking after the cattle to preparing feed for them and food for the staff.
Both of them are glad that their husbands have chosen the route of entrepreneurship rather than opting to go abroad like many others from their village.
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/life-in-a-pickle/" target="_blank">Life in a pickle</a>, Sahina Shrestha
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“I am happy they are here and we get to live together as a family. It is hard work, but we all take care of the chores together and look after each other,” says Ambika.
The enterprising family has had its fair share of challenges in the business. In the initial days when they did not have a milk cooling machine, much of the leftover milk was wasted every day. They soon learnt to make less perishable dairy products to minimise loss.
Pawan does not regret following his brother to Rupandehi despite the hurdles along the way. “If it is about earning money, we can do it in Nepal: “Why bother going abroad and working for others when you can be your own boss and live with your family?”
Ironically, even while Madan and Pawan have established a thriving dairy business in Nepal, their biggest challenge is to find farm workers, as most young Nepalis in the area have migrated abroad. But the brothers don’t want that problem to get in the way of their expansion plans. Says Pawan, “The next step is to scale the business both in production and distribution.”&nbsp;
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/money-grows-on-trees-here/" target="_blank">Money grows on trees here</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Sahina Shrestha

A family that works together stays together

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe11459c7e80680e0da4d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1066" height="640"/><figcaption>Gaura Rokaya mourns eight family members killed by soldiers in Pandusen of Bajura in 2002 on suspicion of being maoists. Photo: MOHAN MAINALI/ A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption></figure>Mimamsha Dhungel was barely eight when Nepal’s decade-long armed conflict ended, and she has vague memories of clutching a packet of cheese balls in her hands on 24 April 2006 and being part of a victory rally from Thankot to Kalanki to celebrate the restoration of Parliament and the end of the war.“My grandfather was martyred in the war,” Dhungel, now a 22-year-old student, says. “The struggle is a part of history that we cannot forget.”Monday, 13 February marks 27 years since the Maoists took up arms against the state, and almost 17 years since Nepal’s current Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoist and then Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala of the Nepali Congress (NC) signed the Comprehensive Peace Accord that marked the end of the conflict that left 17,000 Nepalis dead.Yet, even as relatives of victims demand justice Nepal’s political mechanism and leadership, which is made up of former enemies, has ensured that no side is held accountable for the atrocities committed during the conflict.Suman Adhikari’s father Muktinath Adhikari was a teacher at a school in Duradanda of Lamjung. In January 2002, he was taken away by Maoists while in class and later executed because he refused to donate a share of his salary to fund their cause.“To be reminded that it has been 27 years since the war began, and almost 17 years since the peace accord was signed is painful, but at the same time it is also worrying that the society at large has stopped talking about it,” says Suman Adhikari. “Whichever government it is, the strategy has been to delay, dilute, and deny victims truth and justice.”https://youtu.be/Rfj5t6dIiKcNot only have Nepalis begun to forget, but there is also now an entire generation of young people who were either not born or were too young to remember what it was like to live in fear of the soldiers, police or guerrillas.And just like the political leadership and governments have refused to ensure that Nepalis learn our history, they have also kept the conflict years out of the school textbooks.The Grade 10 textbook published by the Curriculum Development Centre (CDC) reduces the decade-long war into just a mention in a historical timeline. Textbooks put out by private publishers are better, but still offer few details: reducing the war to brief sentences that mention the start of the war, the massacre of King Birendra’s family, and the 12-point peace agreement.The Grade 12 textbook published by the CDC has dedicated just three sentences to the start of the war, and three sentences to the peace accord in its section about Nepal’s history.The textbooks make no mention of the cost and achievements of the conflict.Bhuwan Raj Shrestha, who teaches higher-secondary level Social Studies in Kathmandu says he tried to bridge the gap. “I try to provide context when I teach my students that particular chapter, and a few students who tend to rank higher in class show an interest and ask for details, but that’s about it,” he says.Shrestha himself used to be headmaster at a school in Nawalparasi during the conflict, and came to Kathmandu for safety after running afoul of the Maoists.Pranjal Pokharel grew up with a father who is a police officer. So he has some experience of the war, but he has little information.“Our political stability and impunity now is rooted in whatever happened back then, so it is important for us to learn about what happened,” says the 22-year-old student. “Whatever we have in the curriculum is just the tip of the iceberg, and doesn’t go in-depth at all.”Aarati Ray, 19, also admits she does not know much about the conflict because it is not taught very well in high school. “There was so much about World War I and World War II in our school textbooks, but there was nothing in-depth about the Maoist war,” says Ray.But veteran journalist Rajendra Dahal, editor of Sikshak monthly magazine for teachers, notes that the absence of information about the war is part of a larger problem with Nepal’s learning system and education sector.“Young people’s lack of knowledge is not limited to the armed conflict, most Nepali students are literate but do not have any real understanding that is applicable in the real world,” says Dahal. “As we have become modern and educated, we have also become ignorant and intolerant.”Journalist Mohan Mainali reported from across Nepal about the human cost of the war and is concerned that almost three decades later, the lack of awareness about Nepal’s recent history and how it could pose a great threat to the nation.“ A society that doesn’t know its history risks repeating it,” he says. “We are again seeing an obsession for newer parties because of disillusionment with the establishment. It could once more take a violent turn, it is a vicious cycle.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe11489c7e80680e0da4d2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="579" height="711"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>While the younger generation must be aware of recent history it is not enough to rely solely on textbooks, he says. Indeed, students actually needed to answer questions about the conflict during exams before the peace accord was signed, but the curriculum changed over the decade, and even the exam paper doesn’t have questions specific to the armed conflict anymore.Conflict victim organisations have repeatedly submitted guidelines to political leaders pushing for the war to be included in the school curriculum. But those in power are reluctant because then they  will have to answer to the people about why they were made to suffer.Says Suman Adhikari: “The reality of the conflict is our history, and it must not be hidden. We as a nation need to acknowledge the mistakes of our past so that we might move on, and also so that Nepalis do not ever have to go through something like this ever again.”With additional reporting by Swapnil KC.

Shristi Karki

Delay, dilute, deny

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Bishnu Pandey’s family was involved in subsistence farming. They could only grow just enough to feed everyone, and had a few cattle and goats.
As a young boy, Bishnu tagged along when his father ploughed the fields. When siblings were too lazy to feed the animals, he would volunteer. Even when his friends invited him to play with them, he preferred the company of the goats and cattle.
Even though his family had always been involved in farming, it was just to survive — never to earn money from it.
So when Bishnu first decided to start a goat farm, his family and friends thought it was a daft idea. After all, he had a growing dairy depot, so, why give up a thriving business to take up something so labour intensive?
But as a person who enjoyed the outdoors, Bishnu knew he could only be truly happy working with livestock. So, despite the family’s mild protests he shut down his shop, and invested the amount to import three Boer goats from Australia, bought 20 local female goats and housed them in a modern shed.
Three years down the line, Ankita Krishi tatha Pasu Bikas Kendra, named after his younger daughter, is a thriving business and has 90 Boer and hybrid goats.
“They are happy now, or so they tell me,” laughs Bishnu. “My family sees that I am serious about this work and that it gives me satisfaction. They also see it is commercially viable.”
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dont-give-up-on-nepal-it-has-lots-to-offer/">Don’t give up on Nepal, it has lots to offer</a>, Sahina Shrestha
For the first one and half years of starting the goat farm, however, Bishnu found it hard to break even. But with a ten-year plan, he was confident his business plan would work. His confidence was boosted when he sold the first purebred Boer kids for an average of Rs190,000 each.
“I understood that this profession requires a lot of patience along with hard work, so I was not only mentally prepared, I also planned my budget accordingly,” he says.
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Bishnu first got the idea to import Boer goats and got the design for his shed with feeding stalls from a YouTube video of a farmer in Chitwan breeding goats.
He was worried that South African breeds would not take to the Tarai climate, they may not always have access to grazing. But when he looked up videos of modern sheds he finally took the plunge.
“Goats are cheaper compared to cattle and can easily be sold,” says Bishnu. “During Dasain and other festivals, we need to import goats but if more people do their research and get involved in this, we can eventually be self-reliant and create job opportunities here in Nepal.”
Seven years ago, as people from surrounding villages started migrating abroad in search of work, Bishnu too had set his eyes on going to South Korea where working conditions and pay were better than the Gulf.
He joined Korean classes with three of his friends, and appeared for the EPS exams. But he was not satisfied with his score, and decided to stay back and work in Nepal. He has no regrets.
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“The economic condition of my friends who have gone abroad is definitely better than mine. They have rebuilt their houses and bought land. But socially I feel like I am in a better place,” says Bishnu. “People here know me because of the work I do. Moreover, I get to spend time with my family and see my children grow up.”
These days, people from adjoining districts come looking for Bishnu to learn the ropes, and he is more than happy to share his knowledge.
Over the years he has also picked up some essential skills that have helped him take care of his animals better. He mixes his own feed for the goats. He also took a 15-day veterinary training in Kathmandu since vets would be expensive.
Bishnu now employs two people to help him around the farm. But when they are not around, his wife Laxmi lends him a hand. With each passing year, he says his sense of fulfilment has grown: “It is hard work, but it is something that makes me happy.”
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees/" target="_blank">Pigs fly and fish climb trees</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Down on Bishnu's farm

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While Argentina and France tussled for the 2022 World Cup in Qatar’s Lusail Stadium on December 18, a different kind of match was taking place in Nepal’s political arena. The results of November’s provincial and federal elections were out, with Nepali Congress (NC) emerging as the largest party after winning 89 seats in the parliament.
The NC’s Sher Bahadur Deuba and CPN-Maoist’s Pushpa Kamal Dahal were competing to be the country’s next prime minister. On 19 December, Kantipur daily ran a cartoon by Abin Shrestha depicting this scuffle: Deuba stood at No1 on a winner’s podium holding a golden cup, reminiscent of Argentina’s win the night before in the World Cup, as K P Oli took second place, watching on with no sense of urgency. In contrast, Dahal leapt from third place, one hand outstretched towards the cup which Deuba caught close with trepidation.
The cartoon was a clever premonition. The coalition collapsed and on 25 December and the two estranged Communist parties, Maoist and UML, reunited for the next government in a repeat of the agreement Dahal and Oli made after the 2017 elections. Dahal was appointed prime minister for the third time this week.
This was not a prediction as it was an evaluation of Nepal’s political climate. Abin Shrestha reminds us that cartoons are not news but editorials or analyses, and a political cartoonist aware of the happenings in the country depicts what they understand and expect based on their studies and observations. But satire is the medium with which the message is conveyed.
“All I wanted to show in the cartoon was that Dahal, who came third in the election, wanted to be prime minister when Deuba’s party got first place,” Abin explains. “Practically, this is a little strange, isn’t it, &nbsp;as the winning party usually gets the position?”
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Abin, 50, started out as a cartoonist almost 30 years ago when he joined the Nepal Times daily in 1993. Today, his daily single column cartoons on Kantipur under गजब छ बा ! &nbsp;are widely recognisable, with their characteristic geometric political figures, sharp, witty one-liners, a daura-surwal clad silent man standing in for the ordinary citizens, and his unique signature. But it was not until he was 30 that he felt attuned to cartooning, later becoming the president of Cartoonist Club of Nepal form two terms, from 2014 - 2021, and reviving the almost-defunct group with regular programs and workshops for up-and-coming Nepali cartoonists.
“When I began, I was very young,” he recalls. “I did not fully understand the politics or the parties, did not know how Congress was or UML.” His editor would sit him down and explain to him the intrigues, the policies and the workings of Nepal’s politics, both external and internal. Based on these and the day’s happenings, Abin would then make his cartoons.
After the end of the Panchayat system 1990, the major political parties in the new multi-party democracy were NC and UML, and they had their own partisan media. “Congressi newspapers would criticise the UML ones, and vice versa,” says Abin. “And one could distinguish a newspaper’s party alignment based on its cartoon.”
But Abin did not want to contribute to the one-sided, partial satire. He would often switch papers to poke fun at the other parties. “But people would call me दूधचिउरे, an opportunist, rather than see that I was trying to be impartial in my art and my work,” he says.
“Democracy was freshly reinstated after the Panchayat rule, there was freedom of expression, and also new developments in printing technology.” Media was unshackled and there were new newspapers, which in turn gave more opportunities to cartoonists.
Read also:&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/cartoons-that-speak-1000-words/">Cartoons that speak 1,000 words</a>
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-cartoonists-poke-india-over-kalapani/">Nepali cartoonists poke India over Kalapani</a>, Kunda Dixit
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Before, cartoonists would often have to use pseudonyms to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Honour,3914" target="_blank">keep their identity and work separate</a>. “Many veteran cartoonists who worked during the Panchayat-era recount how they would be startled to hear knocks at their door on the day their cartoon would be published,” he says.
This is not so much the case now. “Personally, I have not had to face censorship to that degree,” he adds. “There was a time, not too long ago, when party cadets – never the leaders themselves, mind you – would threateningly call or email me after a cartoon was out, telling me it was inappropriate. This has not happened in recent times.”
This, he attributes to the changing attitudes among people regarding the leaders and politicians. “No one considers them god-like anymore, incapable of any wrong,” Abin says. “And perhaps the audience has also got more mature, knows a thing or two about satire and humour.”
Even then, sometimes people will comment on social media, purposively chiding or bullying, but Abin does not engage with them. “As there is no point in trying to explain things to people who already understand them but pretend not to,” he says.
However, this does not mean a cartoonist does not listen to the public at all. “A cartoon is not just a picture but a form of journalism as well, and there is always a sense of duty and responsibility to being a cartoonist,” he adds. “In the name of creative freedom, one cannot go around chastising any particular gender, religion, ethnicity or class. There needs to be discipline.”
A cartoonist, Abin emphasises, observes, analyses and expresses a society’s climate and temperature. And perhaps for this reason alone, most cartoons are political in nature. “Especially in Nepal’s case, if one digs deeper, one finds that issues of education, health, and society are intrinsically tied to politics,” says he. “As such, it is difficult to not be political in our cartoons.”
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12051#.Y7jX9exBz9E">Toons take on tyrants</a>
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There are sometimes complaints too, that his cartoons almost exclusively depict frustrations and society’s negative aspects, but Abin reminds that his works are forms of satire after all. Satire, he explains, aims to shame or expose the vices, follies or &nbsp;shortcomings of individuals, corporations, governments and society to ridicule. There is humour involved but not always, and the intention is to improve, as a form of social criticism. “And good things, events don’t need to be satirised at all,” he adds.
This has so far been the trend of cartoons in Nepal. Single-column gag cartoons or wider editorial ones lampoon the government’s deficiency and detachment from the general public, issues of corruption and elections. In 2022, Abin’s cartoons reflected the waves of hope that Nepali felt with the two elections in May and November, and were sharply critical when the elected leaders did not deliver as promised.
“There are new, younger people elected now, hinting at a touch of freshness,” Abin says. This also means newer characters to draw and newer expectations to express. “As a cartoonist, I hope that we also get to draw our cartoons differently this time, breaking the same tired tropes of the same people in power,” he adds. “Otherwise what is new, even?”
Read also:&nbsp;
<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2894#.Y7jX7OxBz9E">A cartoon is worth a thousand words</a>, Sajive Mishra
<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6017#.Y7jX8exBz9E">Caricature of justice</a>, Yubaraj Ghimire

"Not every cartoon is humorous"

Under the dim red light of a darkroom, Jagadish Upadhya is getting ready a tray for the stop bath and fixer to print photographs from an exposed negative film reel.He sets the developed negative on the enlarger, alters the aperture ring and checks the sharpness before masking the frame. He then carefully places the exposed paper in a shallow tray of developer and gently rocks the solution back and forth so the chemicals slowly bring out the image in black and white.Once it appears, Upadhya puts the paper in the stop bath before removing and draining it. He moves the print into a tray of fixer, gently rocking it again, and inspects the print under a white light and washes it thoroughly before hanging it up to dry.All this may look archaic to young Nepalis used to snapping away with their mobile phones, applying filters and posting images on Instagram. But before photos went digital, there were film reels, darkrooms and prints — technology that had not changed since photography was first invented 150 years ago. But analogue photography is staging something of a comeback worldwide, and there are afficionados in Nepal also trying to keep the technique alive.“The entire process of working in the darkroom and playing with chemicals is like cooking,” says Upadhya, who founded Film Foundry, a collective learning and sharing their knowledge of film photography. “I still get fascinated every time I go into the darkroom, I feel like I am in a different realm.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5239c7e80680e0d30d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5279c7e80680e0d30d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd52b9c7e80680e0d30d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5309c7e80680e0d30dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The phone killed the point-and-shoot camera years ago. Even before that, digital cameras were pushing analogue cameras into obsolescence. But as the world of photography becomes more digital-focused, photographers like Upadhya look to conserve its purist form.“Film will never die,” says Upadhya. “It is like reading a book. A tablet may be easier to carry around, but you cannot compare the joy of touching the printed pages. Similarly, there is a different sense of satisfaction in physically holding and seeing photographic prints.”Unlike digital cameras where one can snap away without worrying much about cost, film requires a much more deliberate approach. Each frame costs money to develop and print, and this forces the photographer to be mindful about clicking the shutter button.The nostalgia associated with the film camera and film rolls is what seems to have pushed the growing trend among photographers to time-travel back to the age of analogue.In the mid-2010s, when Rupesh Singh’s family was packing up to move house, he stumbled upon an album filled with black and white photos of his father’s childhood. Being a digital native, he had only seen photographs on phones or computers before, but holding family memories in his hands was a defining moment for Singh, who now teaches photography at Kathmandu University.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-nepals-history-colourful/">Making Nepal’s history colourful</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5359c7e80680e0d30dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="787"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5399c7e80680e0d30dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1690" height="2048"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd53d9c7e80680e0d30ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1512" height="1132"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“The medium is unique. It requires a lot of patience and attention. If you make one mistake when developing it, the print turns out blank. But the anticipation of seeing the end-product is what makes it worthwhile,” Singh explains.When Abishek Shah started his photographic journey, film was the only medium. Photo studios in Kathmandu Valley then were as common as mobile phone shops are today. Over time as things went digital, it became harder to buy film and chemicals. But his love for analogue never faded.“Unlike digital, film has its own restrictions, but that teaches us to do even more, go even further, learning every day. The importance of film can be conveyed in just one word: patience,” says Shah.The joy of developing prints is when he processes photos he took months ago in the darkroom. It is not instantaneous like in mobile or digital photography where you can check the screen immediately after taking a shot.The curiosity about how film cameras work, how an image is formed and how a blank sheet coated in a photosensitive chemical emulsion captures an image of an instant already passed is also what attracted Sanjog Manandhar to film photography.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5419c7e80680e0d30dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="940" height="628"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5479c7e80680e0d30dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1055" height="1637"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd54b9c7e80680e0d30e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="980"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd54e9c7e80680e0d30e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1509" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>He had an old point-and-shoot camera at home but there was nowhere to buy film rolls since studios had all gone digital. He got some film reels from his brother in Japan and started clicking.“Seeing the mistakes I made after the negatives were developed has made me a better photographer,” says Manandhar, a photojournalist with The Kathmandu Post.In 2019, he founded the Analog Club with Niva Rajbanshi to create a community and a space for photographers to experience the whole process of film photography. One by one they collected films, chemicals, tanks, enlarger, and set up a darkroom. Under the mentorship of Jagadish Upadhya, they taught themselves by trial and error.“Film photography slows me down in the rush of the digital world where we take hundreds of pictures every day. Yet, we lack learning. What is the point of being happy with just one good photo from hundreds you have taken?” says Niva Rajbanshi. “Film photography slowed me down and gave me time to really understand image processing. It made me pause and think about what I am shooting. And ask: why am I shooting this?”For commercial photographer Bibash Maharjan Suwal, the joy of shooting in analogue is not only in taking pictures and developing them, but also archiving.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-way-we-were/">The way we were</a>, Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5559c7e80680e0d30e2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“I take a lot of photos every day, but I have a fear that one day my hard drive gets corrupted. Films, if stored properly, will last in a physical form for a long time,” says Suwal, who started film photography when in school in India.With film staging a comeback, French photographer Alexandre J Henry came recently to exchange notes with Nepal’s analogue community. Henry says he fell in love with the grain and texture of the analogue prints and started shooting in the format five years ago.“You can have some deeper layers of black and the contrasts are just amazing in film prints, it is unique compared to digital prints,” he says.The renaissance of print has also allowed the photographers to experiment with the medium. At Film Foundry, photographers are testing prints in different mediums including wood, canvas and Nepali paper.Says Abishek Shah: “Back in the days, photos were more for household documentation. People took family portraits, studio portraits, and photos of outings and gatherings as mementos, but now we can be more creative and try something new every day.”_________________<h2>Negative to positive</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5589c7e80680e0d30e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The magic of analogue photography takes place on a strip of plastic coated with a light sensitive emulsion of silver halide, with which the exposed parts react. When processed, the lit bits blacken the silver on the film.<ul><li>After all 24 or 36 exposures are done, the film is rolled back inside the camera with a small pull-out spool. The camera should not be opened until the negative is inside the roll which is then taken to the darkroom to process.</li> <li>Darkroom equipment includes a dark bag, scissors, a daylight developing tank, film reel and chemicals.</li> <li>The negative from the exposed roll is loaded on to the film spool inside the dark bag, and the daylight developing tank which is designed in such a way that light does not contaminate the film while the chemicals are being poured in. The lid on the developing tank is there only to cover the tank in case we require agitation in the developing process.</li> <li>The choice of chemicals depends on whether the film is black-and-white or colour, which brand it is, the speed of the film, or the preference of the photographer. The temperature of the chemicals also has to be taken into account as it can lead to a difference in the developing time and ultimately the final product. Many senior photographers in Kathmandu swear by the D-76 formula by Kodak as the go-to formula for the most.</li></ul><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd55c9c7e80680e0d30e4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5619c7e80680e0d30e5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd5679c7e80680e0d30e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd56c9c7e80680e0d30e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><ul><li>The film, after remaining in the developer for the specified amount of time, will have thrown away excess emulsion and developed images on it. Diluted developers are usually disposed of after the use, and stock chemicals are retained and replenished for future use.</li> <li>But the film is not yet ready to be out in the light. It needs to be cleansed with fresh water, which should be the same temperature as the developer with the final couple of minutes in the fixer. This will fully desensitise the remaining silver and make the images permanent allowing us to view it in bright light.</li> <li>The image on the film is inverted which is why the film is called a negative. A positive is then obtained by either enlarging the image onto a photographic paper or by scanning and inverting it digitally.</li> <li>The dark room has red light, and some photographers first make a contact print of the negative to see which ones should be enlarged.</li> <li>The exposed photographic paper is first immersed in a developer, and halted with a stop bath. The paper is then immersed in a fixer solution after which it is washed and hung up to dry.</li></ul>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/portrait-of-a-photographer-in-rural-nepal/">Portrait of a photographer in rural Nepal</a>, Monika Deupala

Reliving analogue photography

<div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd3649c7e80680e0d305bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">CONJUGAL SCIENTISTS: Elizabeth and Alton Byers below Mt Kangchenjunga in October 2022 following six months of glacier hazards and alpine flora research.</div>
When American mountain geographer Alton Byers was investigating a devastating flash flood that blocked the Arun River in 2017, he trekked up the Barun Valley to find a vast area covered in thick white dust.
He was convinced this was no monsoon flood, or even a glacial lake that had burst. The white dust was a clue.
Sure enough, a local yak herdsman told him that a mountainside had come down causing the dust cloud. Comparing earlier photographs, Byers discovered that an entire side of Mt Saldim had broken off, fallen on a glacial lake and sent a massive debris flow down to the river’s confluence with the Arun.
Last year, Byers was investigating a historical flood from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tracing-past-glacial-floods-in-kangchenjunga/" target="_blank">Nangama glacial lake</a> below Kangchenjunga, when local elders told him about eight other floods in the 1960s in the area.
For Byers, who is a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tracing-past-glacial-floods-in-kangchenjunga/" target="_blank">frequent contributor to this newspaper</a>, these two examples and many others in Nepal proved the benefit of including local people in the research process.
“A lot of glaciologists still do not include local knowledge, and that is unfortunate,” Byers says. “What we try to do is talk to local communities as an interdisciplinary approach to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-mountains-are-melting/" target="_blank">studying climate change</a>.”
Byers and his wife, the botanist Elizabeth Byers, spent most of the past two years in the Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in eastern Nepal, tapping local knowledge about how the ecosystem is coping with the climate crisis and a post-Covid increase in trekking.
“The older generation has a phenomenal knowledge about the ecosystem, and this is being lost as the younger generation moves to the cities,” Byers says.
This is happening across Nepal, and the couple observed this in Kangchenjunga as well. The population of yaks, for example, had gone down because younger people were no longer interested in rearing them, and also because of the demand for yak meat across the border in China.
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Elizabeth Byers has spent the last seven years developing a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/wildflower-app-celebrates-nepals-flora/" target="_blank">wild flower identification app</a> with 600 species of Himalayan flowers and 2,400 photographs that can be downloaded for free.
With Nepali scientists Til Kumari Thapa and Richa Chhetri, she is finishing a new book about the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tracing-past-glacial-floods-in-kangchenjunga/" target="_blank">wildflowers of the Kanchenjunga region </a>that have four new hitherto unclassified species even though the region was first explored in 1844 by British botanists.
“If we could find four new species in a part of Nepal that has been studied for over 170 years, imagine what there must be in the rest of Nepal,” says Elizabeth Byers.
She says delicate alpine plants, like Nepal’s 12 species of insect-eating Bladderworts, are especially vulnerable to climate change due to extreme weather and invasive species moving up the mountains. Uncontrolled tourism could add to the threat to Himalayan biodiversity.
“On a global scale, it is hard to imagine a place more important than Nepal in terms of biodiversity,” she adds. “Climate change is happening too fast for the plants to adapt and we could lose plants with unknown medicinal value for the future.”
Alton and Elizabeth Byers spent this monsoon in Kangchenjunga looking at how the climate crisis and tourism could change the ecosystem of the region below the world’s third highest mountain.
Ten years ago, Alton Byers was involved in an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/living-below-nepals-melting-mountains/" target="_blank">exchange of scientists from Peru and Nepal</a>. Experts from Nepal were taken to the Andes to see how Peruvian scientists had drained expanding glacial lakes after big losses of life when they burst.
Peruvian experts later advised the Nepal government in a project to drain Imja glacial lake in the Khumbu to lower its water level and reduce the danger of it bursting.
Byers says he has been surprised by how much the Himalayan peoples in Nepal know about the weather extremes they have &nbsp;witnessed lately.
“They have a remarkable understanding of why it is happening and they know they are absolutely not to blame,” says Byers, who was also encouraged to see that communities are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-mountains-are-melting/" target="_blank">adapting to glacial lake floods</a> by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/living-below-nepals-melting-mountains/" target="_blank">building embankments</a>, higher bridges and moving settlements away from river banks.
That knowledge and adaptation now needs to be scaled up to the national level so that large infrastructure projects take into account the risk of destructive climate-induced debris flows, like the one that hit Melamchi in June 2021.
“Glacial lakes are a clear danger. The Arun for example has three big dam projects, and upstream is the massive Lower Barun glacial lake that is calving every year and soon will be right under the Barun Icefall,” Byers warns.
He suggests that Nepal’s hydropower industry should start incorporating the threat of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/danger-nepals-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up/" target="_blank">glacial lakes upstream in Nepal </a>and China with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/more-himalayan-tsunamis/" target="_blank">early warning systems</a>.
Adds Alton Byers: “We think the mountains are invincible but these are the most fragile ecosystems on the planet.”

Kunda Dixit

Including local knowledge to study climate change

Scientist Arnico Panday talks to Nepali Times about why he became a politician and the reason he joined Rabi Lamichhane’s Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) which has seven directly elected MPs and 13 seats from the proportional vote. Panday withdrew his candidacy for health reasons, but is in the central committee of the RSP. Excerpts of interview:Nepali Times: You are an atmospheric scientist, what motivated you to stand for elections?Arnico Panday: I didn’t necessarily think about coming into politics because I was an atmospheric scientist. But because of the direction the country was going regarding issues including climate change, environment, heritage conservation, urbanisation, I felt a need for myself and others like me to have a louder voice in national affairs.Issues like air pollution and climate change need attention and solutions that go beyond finding new knowledge. For the past decade, I have been working in various policy advisory roles and found that they were not sufficient to get the change happening. The people who had the mandate and the power to make the decisions were not doing so, or were listening to outside advice. Also, I did have an inspiration in my friend Marcela Omena who I knew as a PhD student. She went on to become a minister of environment in Chile and got a lot done.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-with-the-new-out-with-some-of-the-old/">In with the new, out with (some of) the old</a>, Anita BhetwalBut you stepped down as a candidate after contracting Covid and your replacement candidate Toshima Karki had an upset win from Lalitpur-3. Did that surprise you?The whole time I was thinking I would contest from Lalitpur-3, the thought was that the chance was very small. And a month before the election, we thought it was a long shot for Toshima too. But about a week before the election when I went door to door with her, I realised how popular she was, and how much support there was for her.I suppose the trouble she had with the Election Commission gave her a lot of free publicity, and that must have helped. But we saw that in many places people were just tired of the lack of delivery by old political parties and they saw candidates from our party, many of whom are a generation younger represent hope for the change they wanted.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/seats-of-power/">Seats of power</a>, Shristi Karki<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd3159c7e80680e0d3048jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>What will your role now be in the RSP?I’m on the central committee of RSP and I work very closely with party chair Rabi Lamichhane. We now need to expand the party structure, and switch from a start-up mode to a functioning organisation. What my exact role will depend on what the party’s role will be next, whether we will be in the opposition or part of the coalition government.I will continue to strongly represent the issues of climate change, environment and urban planning but a lot of other key issues too that resonated with our voters like bringing people back to Nepal. Nepal depends quite a bit on remittance, but that comes at a very high cost. We need to have jobs at home and more industries that create products we can export. We need to go beyond exporting people and importing goods with the money they send home. We also have a very strong anti-corruption message.Has the RSP been invited by the Nepali Congress to join the coalition government?We’ve had all kinds of informal reaching out. Our position has been that we are not opposed to joining the coalition government, but it will depend on who will be on the overall Cabinet and what kind of joint agenda there will be. Will joining the coalition help us deliver some of the promises we made to the voters? Will it allow us to build our profile as a no-nonsense party that gets things done at a low cost? Or does it just turn us into another one of the same?We are not here for just the next two years, we would like to get a majority in the next election five years from now. We got a lot of votes because people had high hopes that we would do something. Next time we will get votes because we will have shown that we get things done.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-past-is-foretold-in-nepal-poll-results/">The past is foretold in Nepal poll results</a>, Shristi Karki<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd3199c7e80680e0d3049jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1366"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>What would be some of the reasons your newly-formed party managed to win so many seats in the federal Parliament?A lot of voters are tired of old political parties, their lack of delivery, lack of care for common people’s problems and corruption. I think Nepali voters have a pattern of giving new guys a chance. We are a fresh group of people, we don’t know how to do politics, many of us do not know how to do speeches, we are coming with good intentions to make a difference.Our party chair Rabi Lamichhane being a very well-known face also made a big difference. He is someone with a long track record of doing what the state and the elected leaders should have been doing. In parts of Nepal, he is a folk hero who has done a lot from building a hospital in Kalikot to working with the Nepali diaspora to organise oxygen cylinders during the Covid-19 pandemic.It doesn’t seem like the RSP supports federalism much. But isn’t devolution a good thing?We have nothing against devolution of power, budget or decision-making. Our only concern has been with the provincial government structure which is extremely costly yet not delivering anything. We are not against having provinces but it is set up all wrong, and we want to improve it. We have put forth some proposals for a much leaner provincial government system.Does your shift to politics signify that politics is the best way to find a resolution for a lot of our environmental problems like air pollution, waste management and climate change?As a scientist working in policy advisory coming into politics, I think you need a combination of a lot of things to work. You need knowledge created by science, but that alone will not bring about change. People have known about the basic science behind climate change since the 1960s but actions didn’t take place. It is elected leaders and people in positions of power who make the decisions. So we need knowledgeable, responsible politicians who will act in the best long-term interests of the people.In my own personal journey, it seemed like the right time to engage in politics even though it is not something that comes naturally to me. I wouldn’t say this is the best way universally to address the issues, but without sufficient attention in politics, things are not going to move forward.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/back-to-the-future/">Back to the future</a>, Santa Gaha Magar

Arnico Panday, the political scientist

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058b79c7e80680e0ce1b8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"/><figcaption>Workers at the landfill site in Bancharedara. ALL PHOTOS: SAMRAT SILWAL</figcaption></figure>Even before you see it, you smell it.Just off Kathmandu Valley’s western rim, over a ridge and down the mountain, visitors are alerted to the landfill site by the pungent stink.Trucks loaded with garbage ply the narrow dirt road and bulldozers stand by on the roadside to clear the frequent landslides.The sludge from the landfill enters directly into the nearby Kolpu River as swarms of flies, eagles and vultures fly above the wasteland. There a stark contrast between this mountain of trash and the lush, tranquil forests and green terraced fields surrounding it.For residents of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-load-of-rubbish-kathmandus-garbage-problem,4039" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sisdole</a> and surrounding villages, the smell has been a constant companion for nearly two decades. And with the new landfill site in Banchare Danda just 2km away, they worry their health and livelihood will continue to suffer because of what Kathmandu throws away.“This place is now unlivable, we sometimes wish that it would stop smelling for a few hours so that we could catch a break,” says Krishna Ghimire, a local farmer who also runs a shop nearby.But it is not just the sight and the smell that the residents are concerned about. Many in the villages are falling sick with rashes, skin allergies and even cholera.“When we pass the landfill, we get rashes and allergies. A few months ago, I got a cut while on the road next to the dump and it took three months to heal. It was just a small cut,” says Krishna.At a nearby health post which serves as the sole medical centre for residents, staff member Jyoti Maya BK sees 25 patients daily, more during the monsoon."The waste just leaches out and flows directly into the river. Farmers who tend their fields have chronic skin allergies, asthma and sometimes even cholera,” says BK. “The health post is flooded with such cases during the monsoon. It becomes difficult for us to work as we are understaffed, and we don't have a doctor here either.”Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-load-of-rubbish/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">A load of rubbish</a>https://youtu.be/oZfnpUxJyqgRecently, residents here have also noticed the number of cancer cases going up. Although there has been no formal study that links it to the landfill site, locals say it is a worrying trend."The long-term exposure to the landfill environment can result in rise of recurrent chest infections and pneumonia,” says pulmonologist Ekta Rana Malla.  “Prolonged exposure to chemicals from the landfill can give rise to Occupational Lung Diseases or Interstitial Lung Diseases, and pollution and smoke give rise to Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Diseases. It can aggravate diseases like bronchial asthma, allergic rhinitis, skin diseases etc. If infants and children are exposed then there's a high risk of recurrent infections with can ultimately affect their growth.”When Sisdole was selected as the landfill site for Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, Lalitpur, Kakani and Banepa in 2005, it came with a list of promises: employment opportunities for residents living near the landfill, development of healthcare facilities, better roads, and community development schemes. The locals were also told that the landfill was temporary and would be in operation for only three years.Seventeen years later in April 2022 Sisdole was finally full, unable to take anymore of Kathmandu’s waste. But the promises remained unfulfilled. Instead, Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) decided to shift to Banchare Danda. This sparked protests in the district as irate locals stopped trucks from dumping trash in the landfill.Watch: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saJW8KrMh18" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Wasted Politics: Kathmandu's Garbage</a> Problem"When trash collection stops in Kathmandu, there is news about how people are suffering in the city. What about us who have lived with trash for the last 17 years?" asks Parmila Ghimire, a Sisdole local (pic, right).Her husband, Keshav Ghimire, adds, "Actually, we had invited KMC with garlands to dump waste here. We wanted good roads and infrastructure in the village but sadly they haven't come through with their promises. Even the road they built is for trucks to transport waste to Sisdole and Bancharedara."<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058ba9c7e80680e0ce1b9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="440"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The agitation coincided with the election of Kathmandu’s new mayor, Balen Shah who made it his top priority to resolve the issue. To keep the Sisdole residents happy, the government signed an 18-point agreement on 9 June 2022 once more promising better waste management and finding scientific solutions.But with nothing changing from the government side, locals once again took to the streets in July, and the government resorted to using security forces to continue waste disposal in Bancharedara."For many years we have been asking for a solution from the government, but it has not listened. We have to live with the stench all the time, and now there will be two landfills in this area. We feel abandoned and are treated like stateless people. Now, our only demand is that this area should either be free of waste or we should be resettled," said Thakur Ghimire, ward member of Kakani-2.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058bd9c7e80680e0ce1bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="679"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kathmandu Valley and Banepa generate an estimated 1,200 tons of waste daily. Most of which ends up unsegregated in the landfill site. Meaning even if 60-65% of the waste is organic, it may get contaminated with batteries and e-waste being thrown in the same place. More harmful is the leachate which seeps into water bodies, contaminating ground and river water, and impacts on biodiversity."When we use the water from the Kolpu for farming, we get rashes that last for weeks. Some of our cattle have died drinking from the river," says Krishna Ghimire. "Earlier, we hardly used pesticides for agriculture, now, we have to use it to get a meagre harvest. All of this happened after the landfill."According to Shilshila Acharya, a climate activist and waste management entrepreneur the other danger is a process known as ‘bio-magnification’.She explains: “Contaminants like mercury, arsenic, and pesticides, such as polychlorinated biphenyls and DDT, are consumed by organism transferring them up the food chain.”Bio-magnification makes humans more susceptible to cancer, respiratory illnesses, kidney and liver problems, congenital disabilities, and heart diseases. Scavenging animals and flies of which there are many in Sisdole, also act as disease carriers.With haphazard dumping and no sustainable long-term plan, Kathmandu’s and in turn Sisdole’s garbage problem is deep-rooted. Segregation-at-source at every stage before finally using the landfill and supporting all the players in the waste value chain can be a solution to Kathmandu’s waste.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058c09c7e80680e0ce1bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>"This issue deserves top level attention, and we need to support the best minds trying to solve this problem. There will be many opportunities for job creation. But, sadly, I don't see any urgency from the government," says Acharya.The last time Sisdole residents staged a protest Mayor Balen Shah announced that the households had to segregate waste before sending it off to the waste collectors. But months down the line little has been done to implement it or to assist Kathmandu’s residents to segregate household waste.And the Sisdole residents continue to be trapped between the two landfills and a state that has continued to turn a blind eye to their condition.Says Acharya, "This is not simply an environmental issue, it is also a social justice issue. We accuse developed countries that injustice has been done due to their greenhouse emissions, but within Nepal we commit injustice to rural communities like Sisdole. If one day Pokhara decides to dump its waste in Kathmandu, would we allow it?"