&nbsp;At 8:30AM on 13 May, Jacob Weasel, MD, became the first Native American to summit Mt Everest. Standing on the world’s tallest peak, the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe member suddenly felt a deep connection with his ancestors from the other side of the planet. And he also felt an immense sense of pride for not just his Cheyenne River Sioux tribe, but for all First Nation communities from the Americas and the world. “My journey to becoming a surgeon and scaling Mt Everest is a story of perseverance, determination, and community support,” Weasel, 36, told Nepali Times in Kathmandu after the climb. “I am humbled by the encouragement I have received and proud to carry my people's legacy forward.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/to-the-base-of-everest-on-one-kidney">To the base of Everest on one kidney</a>, Shristi Karki  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528140536_f06f00aeab12619a8a0f362d84aa2c8aacfa41ae3e5436c95b503448bb1986cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230528140536_f06f00aeab12619a8a0f362d84aa2c8aacfa41ae3e5436c95b503448bb1986cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="622" height="902" loading="lazy" alt="First Native American on world’s tallest peak NT 4"> <figcaption> Photos courtesy: JACOB WEASEL</figcaption> </figure>  Weasel is also the first and the only person to become a surgeon from his tribe. Over 70% of Sioux children drop out of school, families are poor and the unemployment rate is high. Few go on to get a college education, or have prestigious professions so a surgeon-mountaineer could not be further from the stereotype. But young Jacob Weasel was so inspired by the story of Sophia Dannenberg, the first African American and the first Black woman to summit Mt Everest in 2003 that he started researching her, and was surprised to find that no Native American has ever climbed the mountain. “It took a year and a half of relentless exploration, alongside pursuing my education and medical career,” he said. “I completed my undergraduate studies, medical school, and surgical training all the while keeping the mountains in my heart.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/everest-70-years-on">Everest 70 years on</a>, Lisa Choegyal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528140540_e68e3c2d90fdd0e65773676d47193eb78462e64c1509de70e663d9c7e1d2146e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230528140540_e68e3c2d90fdd0e65773676d47193eb78462e64c1509de70e663d9c7e1d2146e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="First Native American on world’s tallest peak NT 5"> <figcaption>Jacob Weasel was inspired by Sophia Dannenberg, the first African Amercian woman to climb Everest.</figcaption> </figure>  Weasel and his two siblings were born in New Mexico and they moved to Omaha with their parents when Jacob was only 12. But only he went on to finish college, and studied medicine in South Dakota. His father was born on a reservation, and had a challenging upbringing within a broken family. He dropped out of school in eighth grade and was pushed into drug dealing. But he managed to leave it behind, passed his GED test, attended Bible school, and became a pastor. Weasel started climbing at Mt Rainier and went on various expeditions including ones to Ecuador, Kilimanjaro, and Denali, fuelling his passion even more. But the goal was always to get atop the world’s highest mountain. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/the-pinnacle-of-determination-and-courage">The pinnacle of determination and courage</a>, Bhadra Sharma <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%2Fklrh1pC4sPI%3Ffeature%3Dshare&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: JACOB WEASEL</div> However, an Everest expedition meant much money and time, physical and mental strength and lots of training. But the fundraising efforts paid off, and Weasel was off to Nepal earlier this year.&nbsp; Things were much tougher than he imagined: the weather was harsh this spring, the Khumbu Icefall was treacherous as ever, and the north wall of Nuptse was heavy with new snow. The high altitude also took a toll on Weasel, each step felt like a tremendous effort, and monitoring oxygen levels became important. Weasel and his Nepali guides also narrowly survived avalanches in the Khumbu Icefall.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/billi-bierling-s-life-cycle">Billi Bierling’s life cycle</a>, Pradnya Pradhan <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%2FD-xXsu0CAU4%3Ffeature%3Dshare&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: JACOB WEASEL</div> Finally approaching the summit on a clear but windy morning, Weasel unfurled his Cheyenne River Sioux flag, with an eagle feather securely packed in red cloth in his backpack for protection.&nbsp; “It was an honour to carry my tribe's symbol to Earth's highest point,” Weasel told us. For Weasel, climbing Everest was not the only achievement, it was also to visit an Asian country for the first time and see how he can contribute as a medical practitioner to Nepal’s healthcare. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/high-himalayan-rescue">High Himalayan rescue</a>, Buddha Basnyat and Gobi Bashyal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528140540_2e503e0070e8e0db449d62324d92af0ccece8edb34f0ac58707087f5413be956.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20230528140540_2e503e0070e8e0db449d62324d92af0ccece8edb34f0ac58707087f5413be956" data-rendition-name="original" width="3716" height="2787" loading="lazy" alt="First Native American on world’s tallest peak NT 6"> <figcaption>Panoramic view of Everest as Jacob Weasel summitted the mountain.</figcaption> </figure>  “Leveraging my medical background, I aim to improve access to healthcare services, particularly for women and children in Nepal’s rural areas with limited resources,” he said. He wants to fundraise to build women's health clinics and birthing centres in Nepal in collaboration with local organisations working exclusively on maternal health like One Heart Worldwide. “I feel so welcomed here, Nepalis have been generous and shared wisdom, and taught me about resilience, humility, and the indomitable human spirit,” he said with feeling. “Leaving Everest, I carry those lessons to respect the mountains and the people who live among them.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities">On Mt Everest’s 70th, records and fatalities</a>, Pradnya Pradhan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528140536_66c25ad0-bcb9-42d0-aece-4bd7e18f0e7d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20230528140536_66c25ad0-bcb9-42d0-aece-4bd7e18f0e7d" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="4032" loading="lazy" alt="First Native American on world’s tallest peak NT 3"> <figcaption>Weasel wants to help Nepal-based organisations like One Heart Worldwide build women's health clinics and birthing center.</figcaption> </figure>  Excited by his Everest success, Weasel now plans to become the first Native American to climb all seven highest peaks in the seven continents and complete the Explorers Grand Slam by reaching the North and South Poles. With his adventures, Weasel wants to create a ripple effect of positive change that extends beyond individual mountaineering achievements. His ultimate goal is to raise awareness about and support Native American communities. He wants his mountaineering feats to inspire others in his community to realise their potential, pursue their passion, break barriers, embrace their cultural heritage, and actively contribute to building stronger and more resilient communities. What is his most important take-home? Weasel replied: “With perseverance and support, we can overcome obstacles and achieve extraordinary things. Let us uplift and empower one another.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/without-sherpas-there-is-no-mountaineering">“Without Sherpas, there is no mountaineering”</a>, Bhadra Sharma

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First Native American on world’s tallest peak

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The Kusunda are one of the two last remaining hunter-gatherer societies left in Nepal, the other being the nomadic Raute. The 2011 Census showed that there were only 273 Kusunda individuals remaining, and there are probably even fewer today.&nbsp; The Kusunda language is not related to any other language group in South Asia, and has only one native speaker still alive: Kamala Khatri Sen in Dang district. Decades of social exclusion has nearly obliterated this ethnic group.&nbsp; One of the earliest mentions of Kusunda comes from Brian Houghton Hodgson, the British Resident to Nepal in 1833, who extensively documented Nepal’s human and natural diversity.&nbsp; ‘Amid the dense forests of the central region of Nepal, to the westward of the great valley, dwell, in scanty numbers and nearly in a state of nature, two broken tribes having no apparent affinity with the civilized races of the country, and seeming like the fragments of an earlier population,’ Hodgson wrote of the Kusunda and Chepang. <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe>Listen to this podcast with spoken Kusunda, a language isolate with no other language in its category, one of the rarest in the world with just one native speaker alive. Sewa Bhattarai brings excerpts from this audiobook, and speaks to Kusunda language teacher Uday Raj Ale and one of his students Hima Kusunda. </div> More than 150 years ago, Hodgson was already calling the Kusunda 'a broken tribe'. Today, they are even fewer in number with a few scattered between Gorkha and Dang, as the groups migrated westwards.&nbsp; Researcher Narayan Prasad Adhikari writes that the Kusunda believe their ancestors lived originally in Arghakhanchi, and Palpa, wandering to Tiram of Pyuthan and Ambapur of Dang. &nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation">Lost in Translation,</a> Alisha Sijapati Hodgson noted in 1870 that the Chepang, Kusunda, and Hayu are of the same lineage, and Adhikari notes that there are indeed some similarities in their physical structure and language. Hodgson conjectured that the Kusunda migrated from even further east, and are a branch of the Lhopa of Bhutan.&nbsp; Of their lifestyle, Hodgson wrote: ‘They toil not, neither do they spin, they pay no taxes, acknowledge no allegiance, but, living entirely upon wild fruits and the produce of the chase, are wont to say that the Rajah is the lord of the cultivated country as they are of the unredeemed waste. They have bows and arrows, of which the arrow-heads are procured from their neighbours, but almost no other implement of civilization. And it is in the very skillful snaring of the beasts in the field and the fowls of the air that all their little intelligence is manifested.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512110512_1252a7572aad0a92f8197902b9a7d9fcd228957a711bf93f9471c210a4c0bb89.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230512110512_1252a7572aad0a92f8197902b9a7d9fcd228957a711bf93f9471c210a4c0bb89" data-rendition-name="original" width="1053" height="802" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda house and prayer "> <figcaption>A model Kusunda house (left) and the place of ritual worship of Kusundas (right). Photo: Johan Reinhard</figcaption> </figure>  Kusunda language and grammar cannot be categorised under any regional language family, although some researchers say it is derived from Tibeto-Burman roots because of the similarity of some words.&nbsp; “There is no other community like the Kusunda in the whole world,” says linguist Madhab Prasad Pokharel. “They do not drink running water, and only drink spring water. They do not touch cows, or drink cow milk. They hunt and eat monitor lizards and weasels. Their DNA shows some links to the eastern Pacific.”&nbsp; Pokharel says Kusunda language has many unique features. For example, although they live in the forest, they have no word for the colour green. The way they create pronouns is different from other languages. My hand is 'tawei', your hand is 'nawai' and his/her hand is 'ginawai'.&nbsp; Uday Raj Ale and Tim Bodt note in a 2020 article in the journal Babel, that spoken Kusunda has sounds not found elsewhere. ‘The voiced uvular and the uvular nasal have now basically disappeared from the language, but we can still recognise that they were once pronounced,” they wrote. Uvular stops are relatively common in Caucasian, Semitic, and Pacific Northwest languages, but are absent in South Asia. Read Also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Mind-your-languages,133">Mind your languages</a>, Mark Turin The Kusunda could be a branch of some early migration streams out of Africa en route to the Subcontinent, East Asia and Australasia. The Babel article says: ‘They may have inhabited a much larger geographical area, but were gradually replaced or absorbed by speakers of other languages.’&nbsp; Can we find these stories in the origin stories of the Kusundas? Can their myths trace the path of the primitive humans who had wandered through the earth? Is it possible to find their relationships with the indigenous people of East Pacific Ocean through their folklore? One is curious to know whether the oral history of one of the world's most unique communities can answer these questions. Sadly, we find that the history, mythology, and folklore of the Kusundas have already disappeared a few generations ago. Imposed mythology  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023051211058_a99bb08817c66baef34b720e3cc9c093e156aa2de0859e1545b25fa2dc62f11f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2023051211058_a99bb08817c66baef34b720e3cc9c093e156aa2de0859e1545b25fa2dc62f11f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1228" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda ritual sacrifice "> <figcaption>Two Kusunda men engaging in ritual sacrifice. Photo: Johan Reinhard</figcaption> </figure>  Uday Raj Ale has researched and documented the Kusunda extensively, and has collected some of their origin stories in his book Gemjehaq. The Chepang chapter of Dor Bahadur Bista’s book Sabai Jat ko Phulbari traces the origin myths of Kusunda history to the Ramayana.&nbsp; Sita gave birth to a son named Lohori at the Valmiki Ashram. She took the baby out of its crib to play with it, and when Valmiki saw an empty crib, he panicked. He created a baby from the kush grass and put it in the crib. When she returned, Sita was surprised to see another baby in the crib. She raised the second baby as her own. The baby which was made from kush was called Kushari. Kushari's descendants became Kusundas and Lohori's descendants became Chepang. Interestingly, an aboriginal forest-dwelling community with distinct lifestyle and language unconnected to mainstream Nepali culture has a Hindu story for its origin myth. Elderly Kusunda reject this story, however, as Ale writes in his book. Dhan Bahadur Kusunda, president of Kusunda Development Society, states that the Sita story has no resonance in his community.&nbsp; Even the very word 'Kusunda' seems to have been imposed on the community. Ale says that word does not even exist in Kusunda language, and the people call themselves Myak or Gemyehak. He speculates that people who were familiar with Hindu mythology manufactured this lore for the Kusundas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512110544_355425e25289a3cea76d509374a4550783da988417e80c6722c4a70e9b9f3756.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230512110544_355425e25289a3cea76d509374a4550783da988417e80c6722c4a70e9b9f3756" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1287" loading="lazy" alt="the last of the kusunda"> <figcaption>Jhankri attending to a patient. Photo: Johan Reinhard(Photo: aaram)</figcaption> </figure>  But the question remains: how is a community that calls itself 'Gemyehak' come to be called 'Kusunda' in the first place. The answer may be found in the popular meanings of the word Kusunda. In rural Nepal, the word 'Kusundo' is derogatory and and means 'uncivilised' 'barbarian', or 'stupid.' In the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/ghatu-dance-of-lamjung">Ghatu dance </a>performed in Gurung and Magar communities in Central Nepal, there is a section called 'Kusunda Ghatu,' where the protagonist King Pashramu wanders into the jungle as a mendicant, hunts deer, and begs for alms. The 2001 movie Darpan Chhaya also has an episode where the hero is marooned in a jungle, forced to wear leaf-skirts, and expresses his anger by saying he became a Kusunda. Many folklore researchers, like Dharmaraj Thapa and Mukunda Sharma, have documented the use of the word ‘Kusunda’ to mean ‘uncivilised’ in Nepali songs. The tenth edition of Nepali Brihat Shabdakosh dictionary gives the first meaning as 'a nomadic tribe that lives in the jungles south-west of Kathmandu, and is presently declining' but establishes gives the secondary meaning of Kusunda as असभ्य (uncivilised).&nbsp; Overshadowed 'Gemyehak' It is not clear whether the existing word 'Kusunda' was used to describe the Gemyehak, or whether the lifestyle of the Gemyehak was the reason this word was created. Whatever the reason, the Kusunda today feel insulted that a derogatory word is used to label their community in the country's most respected dictionary. The Kusunda name for themselves, Gemyehak, has a much more exalted meaning. ‘Ge’ means forest and ‘Myak’ means tiger. Hima Kusunda, 20, from Pyuthan says: “So Gemyehak means tiger, king of the forest. Even today, we call ourselves वनराजा or king of the forest.&nbsp; In Pyuthan the Kusunda are called 'Ban Raja, substantiating the claim that Kusunda ancestors were indeed kings of the forest, writes Narayan Prasad Adhikari. Hodgson himself noted that the Kusunda ‘had clearly once known a condition far superior to the present one or to any that has been theirs for ages.’ How did a community that called itself kings of the forest look at nature, life, and mainstream village life? Their perspective was probably quite different from that of social animals in villages and settlements. But today, we can only imagine what it was like, because the myth of 'Kushari' has overshadowed all these earlier narratives.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512110540_603a3a2ce6337c319c87b8c2ee89649c10b0ee62f49f63ca9a3f191967f40ef3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230512110540_603a3a2ce6337c319c87b8c2ee89649c10b0ee62f49f63ca9a3f191967f40ef3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1363" loading="lazy" alt="the last of the kusunda"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Sen and Kamala Khatri Sen leafing through a Kusunda dictionary. Photo: Johan Reinhard</figcaption> </figure>  Although Gyani Maiya and other elderly Kusunda reject the story of Kushari, they have no story of their own to replace it, and are also unable to remember any songs or dances in their language.&nbsp; “I believe songs existed in the Kusunda language, because they have words for 'song' and 'dance'. They also remember singing and dancing to celebrate some events in their nomadic past, but when asked to sing, they only sing in the Nepali language,” explains Ale. Extinction is forever&nbsp; The Kusunda language and culture has gone into decline because the community is scattered and not unified. Kusunda society started fragmenting when their nomadic lifestyle became threatened by modernity.&nbsp; But when the government started strictly regulating forest use, the Kusunda found it impossible to sustain their traditional lifestyle. They could not find people of their own tribe to marry, and started assimilating with villagers and settled down. Hima Kusunda’s grandfather and his younger brother lived in the forests as nomads even after their parents died when they were young. But one day, his brother ate a snake egg, believing it to be a lizard egg, and died.&nbsp; Hima says, “Then my grandfather had no option but to come live in a village to be near people. Also, there was no Kusunda woman for him to marry so he married a Kawar woman.” The pace of development, the changing times, socialisation, deforestation, difficulties in livelihood, exogamous marriage system, lack of unity among Kusundas, their reluctance to develop, and their traditional viewpoints were found to be the reasons why Kusunda language and culture are near extinction, writes researcher Adhikari. ‘When Kusundas started marrying villagers and dispersing instead of living together, their language and culture disappeared. They stopped practicing their language and culture in order to assimilate with modern society.’ The Kusunda have been further pushed out of their forest homes by societal exclusion, population pressure and competition for resources. Community forests, national parks and nature reserves have also driven them away.&nbsp; The Kusunda started hiding their identity when they inter-married non-Kusunda villagers, and that is also one reason for the decrease in their numbers, says Hima. When her father married a Dalit woman, he was teased and harassed by the villagers. He did not like the Kusunda label, and started calling himself a Thakuri. Ale says that the drive to identify themselves as Thakuri is widespread among Kusunda, and many have adopted the surnames Sen, Shahi, or Khan. When Kusunda married members of Magar, Kumal, or other communities, their children adopted those names instead of Kusunda. Saving what is left  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023051211058_2ca8520dd328f8b7bcb765e5a3d781b18a1eb228cde58390dbac670559d40322.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2023051211058_2ca8520dd328f8b7bcb765e5a3d781b18a1eb228cde58390dbac670559d40322" data-rendition-name="original" width="4860" height="3121" loading="lazy" alt="the last of the kusunda"> <figcaption>Hima Kusunda (left) and Uday Raj Ale (right)</figcaption> </figure>  There have been some efforts by the government to save what is left of the Kusunda people, culture and language. With Gyani Maiya Sen and Kamala Khatri as source persons, the Language Commission has already completed three phases of Kusunda language classes. These are facilitated by Uday Ale and have 20 students, most of them Kusunda. Hima Kusunda, a student of class 12, and her younger sister, are among them. “As a child, when I heard people from other communities like Tharus of Dang and Magars of Pyuthan speak their language, I wished I could speak in my own language too,” Hima recalls. “So, when the opportunity to learn the language came up, I signed up eagerly. The language class has extended the life of the language, but we need to do more.” &nbsp; Hima's father and grandfather have died, and she and her sister are the only ones who know the language in their family. The two teach the language to elders at home, and Hima has even written a song in Kusunda which she sings at events. The lyrics are about living with wild animals in the forest and surviving on foraged food, stories she heard from her father and grandfather. “The next phase of language classes should be held at the family level. Otherwise, the language will not survive past this generation,” Ale says. “Students who have learnt it cannot converse at home, and the language is unable to flourish.” The government has also been providing social security stipend to the community for the past few years. As soon as a Kusunda baby is born and registered, the family gets a stipend of Rs4,000 per month.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/International/Endangered-language-preserved-through-technology,977">The internet's rescue act</a>, Mark Turin “I have not faced any harassment for being Kusunda, but my father did,” says Hima. “The government's incentive has made us less embarrassed about our identity.” Indeed, people who had adopted surnames like Sen, Shahi and Thakuri in the past are now reverting back to Kusunda. The language classes also help extend the lifespan of the language, its corpus and preserve the history and culture of the Kusunda people.&nbsp; Says researcher Uday Raj Ale: “Since they lived in the jungle, they had vast knowledge of the forest, wildlife, plants, and nature. When they hunted, they rarely killed, instead skillfully snaring animals. Gyani Maiya Sen used herbs to remedy minor illnesses. But she believed that sharing it would reduce its efficacy. So now all of that knowledge is lost.&nbsp; Sewa Bhattarai is a freelance journalist. Her series, On The Margins, will focus on folk music, folklore, and mythology of Nepal's marginalised communities.

Sewa Bhattarai

The last of the Kusunda

Jhuma Limbu used to wake up at 3AM every morning to queue up for water from a municipal tank in her neighbourhood of Patan. In the dry season, she got home three hours later carrying a jar of water. But this spring, Limbu and her neighbours have been pleasantly surprised that a 700-year-old water spout across the road is gushing water even in the dry season. Usually, the hiti water spout used to have water only during the monsoon months from July to September. “It was so amazing to see the sparkling clean water flowing continuously,” an elated Limbu told us as she filled her plastic jar at the spout with the alligator-like मकर mythical animal carved on it. “I don’t know why there is water this season, but it has made my life a lot easier,” she added.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_b589e897fc0e54fbff99556629fdc59dfc4bd31f744c080ba8c8a014752293f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230512040524_b589e897fc0e54fbff99556629fdc59dfc4bd31f744c080ba8c8a014752293f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2219" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The Misa and Kwanti Hiti spouts at Baglamukhi Temple in Patan have religious and cultural significance. A ritual is performed for the spout and it attendant monks every July when the फूद्योः (supreme being) is transported to the temple amidst much fanfare. Devotees then bathe in the sacred waters of the sunken spout. Elsewhere in Patan, water spouts like Mang Hiti, Chhayabaha Hiti, Chyasa Hiti and Narayan Hiti are now better maintained and fully-functional even in the dry season. Experts are not sure why these centuries-old spouts suddenly have water flowing again, when the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/light-at-the-end-of-the-melamchi-tunnel">$700 million Melamchi water supply scheme</a> that brings glacial melt through a 26.5km tunnel from Langtang National Park is not providing regular supply.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_faeead1564e0774d60c64de4d41f2fcad93eeaca29e1b3f6779e893231ae6486.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230512040524_faeead1564e0774d60c64de4d41f2fcad93eeaca29e1b3f6779e893231ae6486" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2333" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_8b5e9487adad9f824f9497f4f584ceae9d17f6fd1ac283299161b280b85331f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230512040524_8b5e9487adad9f824f9497f4f584ceae9d17f6fd1ac283299161b280b85331f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1167" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  But urban development expert Padma Sundar Joshi thinks there may actually be a link to the Melamchi project. Even though water from Melamchi is supplied through the mains on a rotational basis, it has meant that families are not using traditional wells to draw water as much, allowing the water table to rise and make the spouts flow again.&nbsp; “If the Valley’s population continues to increase and extraction of well water resumes, the water table will fall again and the spouts will go dry,” explains Joshi. “It is crucial that we come up with a plan to ensure perennial water supply at the hiti.”&nbsp; <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/saving-nepal-s-hiti-heritage">Ancient water spouts </a>are considered great technological achievements of the Kathmandu Valley Civilisation. The Malla-era spouts are outlets for underground conduit basins that allow drinking water filtered by the soil to flow non-stop.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_02d01e05c3f8aa3cde1f5af1569e8e09bf84dee88ebda76bb68ee0e0df669c80.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230512040524_02d01e05c3f8aa3cde1f5af1569e8e09bf84dee88ebda76bb68ee0e0df669c80" data-rendition-name="original" width="1339" height="634" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  In the 6th century CE Kathmandu was the only city in the world to have mastered the technology to provide drinking water to its inhabitants deep in core residential areas. Centuries after they were built, these systems still support the growing urban population of Kathmandu Valley because modern water mains are so unreliable. But unplanned urbanisation of Kathmandu in recent decades has threatened this historic network of sunken spouts. Many water sources have been buried by construction, ponds that used to recharge ground water have been built over. The underground channel that used to bring water to spouts have been destroyed, like the one supplying Sundhara in Patan which was damaged during the construction of the nearby Employees Provident Fund building. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-ancient-water-spouts-still-functioning">Kathmandu’s ancient water spouts still functioning</a>, Alok Siddhi Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_f4a4bed38c355cb748c4f2ab708beac612d8364ab9065f81edbeeaec070e1531.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230512040524_f4a4bed38c355cb748c4f2ab708beac612d8364ab9065f81edbeeaec070e1531" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1167" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  “The main reason these spouts have gone dry is because of the rapid growth of Kathmandu Valley’s population,” says Joshi, who urges the municipal governments to invest in the surviving hiti so neighbourhoods have water 24/7 all year-round.&nbsp; Storing monsoon rain in recharge ponds is the most effective solution to augment wells and spouts. Says Joshi: “Because 80% of rain falls in three months, we can store monsoon runoff in recharge pits and make use of existing wells for storage as well.” A new system of channels is being built to amplify the water flow to Patan’s water spouts from a distribution centre in Khumaltar, and it is set to come into operation in a few months. Says Chandra Kumar Shrestha of the municipality’s Project Implementation Directorate: “If water supply from Melamchi is more regular, it will help recharge ground water and revive our dry hiti and benefit more people.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_ae12c7503ea6717c4a727a1c14a500f964e0e86668f9f923950cfb8a6c907d81.png" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230512040524_ae12c7503ea6717c4a727a1c14a500f964e0e86668f9f923950cfb8a6c907d81" data-rendition-name="original" width="890" height="677" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  <h2>“Respect our ancestors by saving the hiti they built.”</h2> Padma Sundar Joshi In the last 30 years, many hiti in Patan and elsewhere in the Valley have gone from being perennial sources of water to becoming completely dry. First, the flow of water decreased. Then the water began to flow only during the monsoon, before stopping altogether. Unregulated construction because of the Valley’s population density destroyed both the sources of water as well as the underground channels connecting water sources to the ancient hitis.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_e4682485318176545ed0a48df78f49d3b3290deacf0b4e9d4825042d76f5de49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20230512040524_e4682485318176545ed0a48df78f49d3b3290deacf0b4e9d4825042d76f5de49" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1563" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  People in the valley began drilling tube wells to ensure water supply, but this lowered the water table and dried up the hiti. Now, with the Melamchi water supply, many of those wells are not used as much. This, in turn, has meant that the water table has risen, reviving the flow in the ancient spouts even in the dry season. However, if Kathmandu Valley’s population continues to grow at an unprecedented rate, it won’t matter how much water is supplied from Melamchi, Yangri, or Larke. There simply will not be enough water. Managing urban growth must be the priority. A hiti’s age is often cited as the reason for it going dry, but that is not the case. The Mangal Hiti in Patan has been providing water continuously for 1,500 years. How long a hiti has existed is immaterial as long as it is managed and protected. And that means not only making the sunken spouts more attractive, but to strengthen its functionality.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_f53c479374835cbe2814c4b6fafcde48073208c6cceab23446761f2f61755529.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230512040524_f53c479374835cbe2814c4b6fafcde48073208c6cceab23446761f2f61755529" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  A key to making water flow again in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages">Valley’s hiti </a>is to bring back the recharge ponds and lakes which have been built over. But conservation of our ancient water supply system has been neglected because it is deemed too expensive. In fact, water should be an election agenda, and elected leaders must fulfil their promises.&nbsp; The good news is that many of our hiti have been flowing again, even in the dry season. This reminds us that heritage and nature conservation go hand in hand, both must be protected.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s hiti define our civilisation and our place in history. To disregard them is to disrespect our ancestors. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230512040524_a3ec0282678bac759867bea4fc35e76ac302cc43c4598c677d496295b37f86fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20230512040524_a3ec0282678bac759867bea4fc35e76ac302cc43c4598c677d496295b37f86fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Water for the ages NT"> </figure>  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/solution-to-kathmandu-s-water-crisis">Solution to Kathmandu’s water crisis</a> Padma Sundar Joshi is an urban development expert and the author of Hiti Pranali, a book on his research into the ancient hiti system.

Water for the ages

Nepalis breathe some of the dirtiest air in the world. Last week, the Air Quality Index (AQI) in Kathmandu hit 400 due to smoke, emissions and imported pollution. Even the HEPA filter lungs put up by the Ministry of Health started going dark in five days. When air quality plummets, there are immediate side effects. Even healthy individuals get irritation in the nose and throat, tearing of the eyes, skin rashes and coughs.
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Bad air gets worse

Every year, Chandra Prasad Adhikari suffered losses on his farm. For years, his tomato crop did not earn enough to sustain itself.&nbsp; In 1988, he even brought in agronomists to test the soil, and planted new varieties. The batch sprouted upwards within a month only to be wiped out by cotton bollworms when it was time for harvest. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/my-children-shouldnt-be-farmers">"My children shouldn't be farmers,"</a> Anita Bhetwal Frustrated, Adhikari used the chemical pesticide democrene to kill the bugs under the recommendation of an entomologist. That too failed, as the bugs were immune to the pesticide. “I was tired to the point where I wanted to give up agriculture,” recalls Adhikari. Then the entomologist, Phanindra Neupane, a professor at Rampur Campus, suggested switching to organic farming. Adhikari’s father Badrinath had also previously practiced organic farming and his 2.5-hectare farm had produced maximum yield. “My father never used chemical fertilisers. When the extension workers came to the village to promote urea, he sent them away saying our cattle manure was enough to give good crops,” recalls Adhikari who then took to organic approach, especially after finding out that chemicals had hardened the soil and reduced fertility.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023040312044_569a0c7f3604705a82c5520bf598a9117da7d7a7d1ec41a43c2638c4005a2cd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023040312044_569a0c7f3604705a82c5520bf598a9117da7d7a7d1ec41a43c2638c4005a2cd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="423" loading="lazy" alt="organic farming in Nepal"> <figcaption>Chandra Adhikari showing vermicompost production. All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adhikari improved the cowshed, collected dung and used it in the farm. The results were not instantaneous. It took time for the organic methods to reverse the damage caused by years of agro-chemical abuse. He also joined the group Digo Krishi Society and Bhakaro Reform Program. By 1993, Adhikari’s investment had paid off. His carrot plantation was especially successful for which he credits Bhakaro Reform Program that taught him various techniques of making organic fertilisers. In the subsequent years, his farm produced more crops than his neighbours' that used chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/biodynamic-agripreneurs">Biodynamic agripreneurs</a>, Sanjib Chaudhary Soon, he had people coming to him to learn about organic farming, including students from Rampur Campus. At a training program on organic agriculture in Kathmandu, Adhikari met Neupane once again. He gave him books on managing pests and manure via organic methods. It was after reading those books that Adhikari realised the real meaning of organic farming – one that is done without harming the environment and through the use of local resources and skills. “I started preparing fertilisers at home. The best ones were made by farming earthworms,” says Adhikari. “My method of farming organically was also recognised by the government following a soil test from the Nepal Institute of Science and Technology.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023040312044_5a390b9cb2cf6ea2ca8bcd94b86bc787a29aedc2624fa490ae735e24bf90b6b9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023040312044_5a390b9cb2cf6ea2ca8bcd94b86bc787a29aedc2624fa490ae735e24bf90b6b9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="organic farming in Nepal"> <figcaption>Chandra Adhikari harvesting honey.</figcaption> </figure>  Next, Adhikari stopped planting the crops in favour of sunflower oil seeds which is financially more beneficial, but by then he was running his farm just on insects and home-made pesticides. “My income has doubled since going organic and making my own pesticides.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/waste-to-value-with-biogas-in-nepal">Waste to value with biogas in Nepal</a> Adhikari also established an organic agriculture cooperative in 2013 which now serves as a learning centre for 230 farmers. For someone who was once on the verge of leaving farming, he is now known as ‘Organic Uncle’ for influencing many towards soil conservation. And for the past 13 years, Adhikari has also been involved in collecting rice seeds for future use. So far, he has collected 110 varieties which he has submitted to the National Gene Bank in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023040312040_3abd0d0ab8560cd632b833b43ab8442a4d3d38ef4d196c5d165f37b5e5dd697e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023040312040_3abd0d0ab8560cd632b833b43ab8442a4d3d38ef4d196c5d165f37b5e5dd697e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="organic farming in Nepal"> </figure>  “Rice varieties have been disappearing for generations,” says Adhikari. “Just as powerful nations have taken hold of fertilisers and various seeds, Nepal should be self-sufficient when it comes to rice seeds.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/corruption-and-nepal-s-chronic-fertiliser-crisis">Corruption and Nepal's chronic fertiliser crisis</a> After 35 years of organic farming, Adhikari sayslike how healthy mothers give birth to healthy babies, we need chemical-free soil for a good yield, which in turn is crucial for healthy living.&nbsp; Says Adhikari: “Organic farming needs patience, especially to revert all the damages previously done to the soil by chemicals. After that, there is nothing but prosperity for the farmers, there is no loss, and they are also healthier not having to handle all those toxins.”&nbsp;

The ‘Organic Uncle’ of Chitwan

She wakes up before dawn, throws away the blanket and heads quickly down to the cowshed, and promptly starts preparing the feed for her four cows.&nbsp; Already by 5AM the cows have been milked, the shed is cleaned, and the dung removed to the compost pit. Then by 7AM the milk is delivered to a collection centre 3km away. This has been Durga Karki’s morning routine for the past 13 years. In the afternoons, she tends to her leased vegetable patch where tomatoes, cabbage, cauliflower and radish are growing.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230402070424_0ba2834ee5238c876d92db3fbc7ecea2d0936502deda8635e724ad93ce8ec86c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230402070424_0ba2834ee5238c876d92db3fbc7ecea2d0936502deda8635e724ad93ce8ec86c" data-rendition-name="original" width="6436" height="4291" loading="lazy" alt="farmers in Nepal"> </figure>  “If I do not work, my family has nothing to eat,” says Karki, 59, who lives in Bharatpur of Chitwan. “I have to feed my children, send them to school and buy them new clothes.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/down-on-bishnus-farm">Down on Bishnu's farm</a>, Sahina Shrestha Karki took up farming after her alcoholic husband, who regularly beat her, disappeared for good one day. “I didn’t waste my time worrying over him, and put my efforts into raising my children all on my own,” she says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230402070432_82d4143df61a80a179547869091c0dde04c275b804cab1b9eb5a64c92085e613.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230402070432_82d4143df61a80a179547869091c0dde04c275b804cab1b9eb5a64c92085e613" data-rendition-name="original" width="6670" height="4447" loading="lazy" alt="nepali farmer"> <figcaption>CASHLESS CROP: Durga Karki spends over 12 hours a day tending to her cows and vegetable farm, but doesn't have enough funds to afford a gallbladder operation. She raised all her children on her own after her husband abandoned the family.All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Of her five children, her oldest daughter is already married and another is studying journalism. The two younger daughters are in high school, and her youngest son is in Grade 5. Altogether, their tuition fees total Rs15,000 a month, and another Rs10,00 is spent on books, uniforms and school lunches. Then there is another Rs10,000 a month in household expenses. “There is so much expense but my only cash income is from milk. Vegetable farming has left me in debt,” explains Karki, who makes Rs50,000 a month selling milk. Even then, she spends Rs15,000 on cow feed and care, so there is not much savings. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming">Back to the future of farming</a>, Anil Chitrakar Durga took up vegetable farming hoping it would augment their income but she has been struggling. Most recently, she took a loan of Rs100,000 to plant cauliflowers in the plot, she made only Rs70,000. “I don’t think it is because I cannot farm or I’m down on my luck, vegetable farming just does not have the margins,” says Durga, who cites the low price of her produce in the market.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230402070432_c2833e92decfd40d30c679371d0c27443657b3a5b0b4cdb9105498a9c3dde75c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230402070432_c2833e92decfd40d30c679371d0c27443657b3a5b0b4cdb9105498a9c3dde75c" data-rendition-name="original" width="6436" height="4291" loading="lazy" alt="nepali farmer"> </figure>  Farmers in Chitwan are agitating against the low prices middlemen pay by dumping tomatoes, cabbages and other vegetables along the East-west Highway. Karki’s neighbour Narahari Prasad Kandel agrees: "If you don't sell them in time, they will spoil. When you do sell them, you don’t get a price that is worth the produce.” Kandel repeats the reason for the price drop: cheaper vegetable imports from India where farmers get subsidies for everything from seeds, fertilisers to diesel for irrigation pumps. In Nepal, the opposite is true. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/biodynamic-agripreneurs">Biodynamic agripreneurs</a>, Sanjib Chaudhary Back in the Karki household, the daughters help with the farm. She herself tends to her vegetable patch from 10AM to 7PM every day. And while they are struggling, the farm has also kept them together as a family. As a matriarch, Karki had tried to keep her hopes up that things would change. But lately, she has been plagued by doubts. She wonders if others in different professions also live their life as miserably, if they too cannot pay their debts, afford schooling and healthcare even after working over 12 hours a day.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230402070432_8da6a6d2c89f0103e3a795b6f5d38ffed6ab057a1b98cee0c48b0a540e8f4e43.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230402070432_8da6a6d2c89f0103e3a795b6f5d38ffed6ab057a1b98cee0c48b0a540e8f4e43" data-rendition-name="original" width="6670" height="4447" loading="lazy" alt="nepali farmer"> </figure>  Now, she needs a gallbladder operation which she cannot afford, and her doubts about farming are deeper. She cannot lift heavy objects and physicians have told her to rest, but she cannot afford to do that either. “I’m sick because of all these years on the farm and yet I couldn’t even earn enough to treat my condition,” laments Karki, pouring out her anxiety to a visiting reporter. “I have told my children they shouldn’t become farmers.” Karki did reach out to a local agricultural extension centre which provided her with higher yield vegetable seeds, and new cultivation methods. This helped her yield but, once again, the market price was much lower than the investment. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees">Pigs fly and fish climb trees</a>, Sahina Shrestha “We farmers just want our products to be sold and at a price that provides us with a living,” says Karki, who was given the run around by local government officials. Farmers in Chitwan have been agitating by staging street protests for fertilisers, irrigation and proper prices. Says agricultural expert Krishna Poudel: “We have been relying on Singha Darbar to act so far, but now there is no choice but for the local government to step in to solve the problems of their farmers once and for all.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230402070432_a1d85eddef7a12fa81fd20fe32f0333f5ab476918103d437dab89c89fbdc0a1c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230402070432_a1d85eddef7a12fa81fd20fe32f0333f5ab476918103d437dab89c89fbdc0a1c" data-rendition-name="original" width="6493" height="4329" loading="lazy" alt="nepali farmer"> </figure>

“My children shouldn't be farmers”

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

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