Formal education in schools and universities became available to ordinary Nepalis only 70 years ago. But even then women were not encouraged to get an education.&nbsp; The 1971 Education Plan laid out a strategy to raise literacy levels, and encouraged girls’ enrollment in schools. Over the decades, female teachers were added to school faculties, girls were given scholarships and free basic education and women’s rights were enshrined in the Constitution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> <figcaption>ALL PHOTOS: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  The progress is undeniable: Nepal now boasts near-equal enrollment rates for both boys and girls at primary level. However, dropout rates for young women is still high in secondary and higher education. The female literacy rate is 69.4% compared to 83.6% for males. Socio-cultural norms, poverty, child marriage and lack of proper sanitation facilities in schools are factors hindering equal access to education.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  But in a case of better late than never, older women who were denied education when young are enrolling in formal education. “We have studied that men and women are wheels of the same chariot. How can the chariot move forward when one wheel is well oiled and the other is not,” asks Anjana Maharjan, Principal of Shradha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu that offers classes from Grade 1 through 10 for girls 12 years and above.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Age no bar"> </figure>  “When a man is educated, the house prospers, whereas when a woman is educated, the family prospers. When a family is capable, the village becomes capable. When a village becomes capable, the country develops,” she adds. But the road back to the classroom is not always smooth. Household chores for women often leave little time for studies. The social stigma of starting school later in life or the fear of being judged can be deterrents for some. Many lack of support from their families, and have to lie about going to school.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="5719" height="3812" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  “There are students here who come here while telling their family that they are going to work,” says Prabha Chalise, Principal at Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato that provides classes for young women 14 years and older.&nbsp; Some women stay on after class to finish their assignments and leave their books in school so that no one back home finds out.&nbsp; “Society and family should encourage women, they must inspire them and push them to get an education, not judge them for it,” says Chalise. Meet some of the women achieving their lifelong dream of attending school: Indra Kumari Ale, 71  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738" data-rendition-name="original" width="3840" height="2416" loading="lazy" alt="Indra Kumari Ale"> </figure>  Every morning, Indra Kumari Ale takes a half an hour walk from her home in Kusunti to Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato, carrying a blue and purple backpack. Once inside the brown gates, she makes her way to the second floor and takes her place inside the classroom. Growing up in Syangja, Ale got basic education, but her father thought girls did not need education and married her off at the age of 18. Her husband was in the Indian army, and Ale took care of her in-laws while he was away serving.&nbsp; For 25 years, the two maintained a long-distance relationship and her husband would only be home during holidays. Because she herself could not go to school, Ale made sure all her children did. Her two older daughters were married off after completing high school, and her youngest daughter has completed medical school. &nbsp;&nbsp; During all the time she was home looking after the family, Ale yearned to go to school but that dream never materialised until 2015 when her youngest daughter, convinced her to join the school for women. &nbsp; She started in Grade 1, and excelled in studies, got the highest scores in class skipped grades. “It was easy in the lower classes, even till class 7/8, but it is more difficult now more so because of my age, my eyes and ears have started to fail,” she says.&nbsp; Last year, Ale sat for her SEE exams, which she says was “fun”, giving the test with other students who were her grandchildren’s age.&nbsp; “The students as well as the teachers there showed me love and respect as I was sitting for exams at my age. I did not think I would pass, but I did,” she says.&nbsp; Until then not many outside Ale’s family knew she was going to school. When the results were announced, people from her locality came to know that she had passed the SEE exams, and they came together to honour her for her achievement.&nbsp; Now in Grade 11, she is proud of her decision to go to school. “In the past when my neighbours asked where I was going carrying a backpack, I would say I’m going for a walk,” says Ale. “These days everyone in my community knows I go to school and they love and respect me for continuing my education.” Education has not only given Ale recognition in her family and society but has also helped her become more independent. “From reading signboards to hailing buses, I can do all that by myself now,” she says. “Now, I understand English even if I can’t speak it properly yet, I did not think I’d be able to do all this at this age.” Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885" data-rendition-name="original" width="5880" height="3892" loading="lazy" alt="Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar"> <figcaption>Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55</figcaption> </figure>  In the mountains of Palpa, Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar was known for her dulcet voice and an interest in singing. Villagers would invite her to perform in rodhi, dohori and other programs. She happily obliged. Over the years, she published two albums and played small roles in Nepali tele serials but she was troubled by the fact that she did not know how to read or write. She came to Kathmandu 25 years ago, where her husband landed a job. She also looked for jobs in offices, but they said the most she was capable of was cleaning and mopping floors.&nbsp; “I faced a lot of humiliation because I could not read or write,” recalls Magar. Once, while auditioning for a role in a Nepali movie, she was handed her lines. A younger woman read them out for her so she could memorise them, but not before remarking, “Why would a person who cannot even read the lines apply?” &nbsp; She was embarrassed, and the comment damaged her confidence. She fumbled through the audition and was not surprised when she did not get the role. “Even when singing, I kept thinking that if I knew how to read, I wouldn’t have to struggle to memorise all the words, I could even write my own songs,” says Magar. “All of these life experiences taught me the importance of education.” Magar always wanted to study but growing up she never had the chance to because “education was never a priority in the village” and for her parents. Once she was married, she was too busy taking care of the household.&nbsp; Magar had given up on ever learning to read when she learnt of Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu, and made up her mind to enroll. Her husband and sons supported her decision, and she got enrolled in Grade 1.&nbsp; “I did not feel embarrassed to study with students who were younger than me, plus there were others who were similar to me in age and older learning their alphabets too,” she says.&nbsp; For nearly two years, she has been taking care of household chores and rushing to school every morning. &nbsp;This year she had to take two months off from school when her daughter-in-law gave birth but is now back in class. Now in Grade 2, Magar diligently attends school from 11am to 3pm every weekday and says she can now confidently sign her name in both English and Nepali, and use her mobile phone. She wants to study as long as she is healthy and can move around. “I am happy that I get to study at this age,” says Magar. “Women should study so that they can be financially and socially independent. When they are educated they will know the ways of the world, they won't get cheated, they can maintain their privacy and more importantly they can voice their opinion.” Shobha Thapa, 60  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553" data-rendition-name="original" width="4627" height="3084" loading="lazy" alt="Shobha Thapa"> <figcaption>Shobha Thapa, 60</figcaption> </figure>  When she was young, Shobha Thapa learned to recognise the Nepali alphabets by peeking and eavesdropping on her siblings' lessons. She never got to go to school, and once married got too busy raising children. But she made sure her children would get the best education and enrolled them in English medium schools. “The teachers would talk to me in English,” recalls Thapa. “I couldn’t understand anything but I was too embarrassed to admit it or ask what they meant.” At home, she would often feel excluded when people said she would not understand the issue because she was uneducated. “There are simply too many humiliations for me to recount now. But what they all taught me was that education is important,” says Thapa. She could not muster up the courage to tell her husband about her desire to go to school. But one day he himself brought home a newspaper featuring a story of Prerana Mahila Secondary School. She told him she wanted to enroll, and he agreed.&nbsp; Her youngest son had just come home after graduating from an engineering college, so she asked him to take her to the school for admissions. Thapa finally started school at age 50.&nbsp; “I cannot describe the feeling of happiness on that first day,” says Thapa who is now in Grade 11. “I felt that I had already achieved a lot.” Her zeal was so strong she would have her books open when she was cooking or doing laundry.&nbsp; Thapa was the top performing student till the pandemic hit. “I did not know how to use a laptop, but managed to take online classes,” says Thapa who was much happier when physical classes resumed. She says she still needs to work on her English.&nbsp; After passing her SEE exams last year, she has felt a shift in people’s attitude towards her. “People who called me hariyo kakro (why eat green cucumbers when it’s time to die) now show respect and ask me for help,” she says.&nbsp; Thapa wants to continue in her path and is proud of what she has achieved. She doesn’t hesitate to tell everyone that she is in school or encourage other women to start studying. She adds, “Education opens up the world. It is what makes us human beings and it is especially important for women because she needs to be strong to face the world.” Surya Kumari Shrestha, 67  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447" data-rendition-name="original" width="4344" height="2866" loading="lazy" alt="Surya Kumari Shrestha"> </figure>  As a child, Surya Kumari Shrestha never went to school even though there was one in her village. She did attend kindergarten, writing on slates with chalk. But she never continued in school. Later when her contemporaries went on to hold jobs and some worked as teachers, she regretted not studying, and spent most of her life thinking ‘what if’. 20 years ago, she moved to Kathmandu. In her new home, there was a telephone that her family members used often. “Everyone dialed different numbers to talk to different people and I wondered how they did that,” remembers Shrestha. “I had no idea how it worked.” Today, she comfortably uses her mobile and talks to her daughters and video calls her son in Japan. “I dial the numbers myself and call whoever I want to call,” she says. “Maybe I cannot do everything, but I can do more now than when I did not go to school.” A student of Grade 8 at Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School, for Shrestha the decision to join the school was not just to study but also for companionship.&nbsp; With her son abroad and her daughters married, Shrestha lives alone with her dog Pinki. “If I don’t come to school, I don’t have anyone to talk to. Here I have friends and I get to learn new things,” she says.&nbsp; Her children, relatives and neighbours all know that she is attending school and support her decision. On days when she is at home, her neighbours ask why she is missing class.&nbsp; Education has given her the confidence to face the world as a single woman. Recently when she was asked for her thumbprints on a document, she replied that she could sign her own name.&nbsp; Says Shrestha, “I want to sit for SEE exams and then go to college. Education has brought about many positive changes in my life.” Nirmala Chhetri, 56  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Nirmala Chhetri"> <figcaption>Nirmala Chhetri, 56</figcaption> </figure>  Nirmala Chhetri is a social activist and an entrepreneur. Over the years, she worked at various hotels, opened and operated a women’s cooperative, ran her own tailoring business and is now with the Godavari Chamber of Commerce and Industry.&nbsp; On the outside, her life looked good, but Chhetri secretly yearned to continue her education. After her high school exams, she had learned to type. Her accuracy and speed brought in an offer for a government job, but she had to turn it because her family’s disapproval.&nbsp; In 1985, she passed her SLC exams and joined Namuna Machhindra College for her IA, but she had to put her studies on hold and get married. Her home life took precedence as she brought up her children. Because she could not study to her heart’s content, she made sure all three of her children, especially her daughter went to school. Two of her children are now in Australia and her son works with Nepal Airlines. “I always wanted to continue my studies,” says Chhetri. “But when I joined the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, the men there were much more educated than me. This made me feel a bit inferior, but it also made me more determined.”&nbsp; She joined Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Grade 11 and plans to continue on to do a bachelor’s in law.&nbsp; “I feel happy. I feel proud of myself and have regained my confidence,” says Chhetri. “I now think I can do much more in life.” Chhetri's family is fully supportive, and with her children all grown up, she feels this is the time to invest in her own personal growth. &nbsp; “We women have reached this point by sacrificing a lot, so our family and children had opportunities,” says Chhetri. “Why should we give up opportunities at this point in our lives too? Women are now free, we should make the most of it.”

Sahina Shrestha

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Age no bar to go to school

<figure><img width="624" height="468" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a59c7e80680e0ac77bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>China's Nepali students still stuck in Kathmandu stage a demonstration requesting for their return to their universities. </figcaption></figure>Nepali students in Chinese universities who had come home for holidays during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/learning-during-the-pandemic-in-nepal/">pandemic</a> have been stuck for two years, unable to return and complete their degrees. Since China formally closed its doors for international students in February 2020, those who had come to Nepal for the winter break in December 2019 and the initial days of the pandemic are still stranded in Kathmandu. Their hopes of completing their studies and career prospects are in limbo.  “My gap year is coming to an end but I’m confused about what steps to take next, I haven’t received any guidelines on conducting medical internships in Nepal,” says Praveer Raj Singh, a medical student at Peking University who has been stuck in Nepal for nearly two years.Away from universities and having to attend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lockdown-gives-distance-learning-a-boost-in-nepal/">online classes</a> has left Nepali students deeply anxious and desperate, prompting some of them to join WeChat groups like ‘Nepal-China Returning Students’ to organise discussions and initiating petitions to apply pressure on the governments of both Nepal and China as well as their universities. <figure><img width="624" height="351" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a79c7e80680e0ac77cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Nepali medical students studying at Chinese universities stage a protest.</figcaption></figure>Across these WeChat groups, there are new petitions every few days asking students for personal information, which is redundant as every international student studying in China is already required to complete their registration procedure with their details.Since the beginning of the pandemic, China has introduced strict rules for foreign arrivals. Although the novel coronavirus appears to have started here, China has been more successful than most countries in bringing the pandemic under control.The Chinese Communist Party, which recently celebrated its 100th anniversary, does not want to jeopardise its domestic stability ahead of the 2022 Winter Olympics. Hence, China is unlikely to allow international students to return anytime soon, notwithstanding protests or petitions.A more effective approach would be for official in Kathmandu to talk to their Chinese counterparts at a government-to-government level, since that fits in better with China’s top-down approach to doing things.Furthermore, due to the existing language barrier and China’s restrictive internet policies like ‘The Great Firewall’, concerns that are primarily raised in English through platforms like Twitter and Instagram have little to no reach in China. Students have managed to raise awareness, but among themselves and not on the right platforms.  Articles written in Mandarin by Chinese authors about the situation of international students do not have enough reach either, since they have mostly been from personal WeChat blogs. Mainstream Chinese media on the other hand has not touched the issue of international students, and there has been no discussion on popular interactive social media platforms like Weibo, which has over 500 million active users. Similarly, the complaints and petitions brought up by students are mostly conveyed in English or Nepali, which are not effective with a Chinese audience. Student protest is a widely used tool to pressure the authorities and fulfil demands for change in Nepali colleges and universities. That process will not work in China, or with Chinese universities. The petitions and protests may be heard, but do not guarantee sufficient pressure for those in decision-making positions. In fact, students who once believed in protests have since lost hope. An informal survey on WeChat groups by over 100 Nepali students waiting to go back to universities revealed that the majority no longer believe it is a route that can help them return to China. <figure><img width="542" height="413" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a99c7e80680e0ac77djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>“Nepali Students in China” Twitter account campaigning to return Nepali students back to China</figcaption></figure><a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&amp;rct=j&amp;q=&amp;esrc=s&amp;source=web&amp;cd=&amp;cad=rja&amp;uact=8&amp;ved=2ahUKEwi4lfifvqvzAhWi83MBHaD0AtsQFnoECAwQAQ&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fenglish.khabarhub.com%2F2021%2F30%2F200079%2F&amp;usg=AOvVaw0XGPpCjNLLSeJI0wihXTdA">Nepali political leaders and the Nepal embassy in China also have been raising the issue with the Chinese authorities</a>, but so far to no avail. Most international students in China do not seem concerned about classmates from other nationalities not returning, and do not raise the issue with their respective universities.  Students who remained in China in 2019 feel lucky to not have rushed back home during the peak of the pandemic. One of them is Aayush Maskey, an undergraduate student of Xidian University in Xi’an.   “There are several opportunities for international students who stayed on  campus, the universities sponsored several city tours,” says Maskey, whose classes are still mostly online but he has a better prospect of jobs and internship opportunities. He is now the face for his university’s promotional campaigns, and has benefited from in-person interactions.  China will eventually let international students in, but only when its government wants to. Until then, the only thing the students can do as what they have been doing since the beginning of the pandemic: wait for further notice. Suniva Chitrakar is an undergraduate student majoring in International Political Economy at Peking University. Aneka R Rajbhandari is pursuing her Master’s degree in Chinese Politics from the Silk Road School, Renmin University.

China’s Nepali students in limbo

<figure><img width="800" height="545" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba84c9c7e80680e0737d0jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Chun Kumari Chaudari, at age 43, giving her high school exam in Kailali last year. The former kamlari educated herself after becoming a member of the Far-Western Provincial Assembly.</figcaption></figure>For an illiterate woman from a destitute family of former bonded labourers, Chun Kumari Chaudhari could not have been more removed from the power centres of Nepali politics. She comes from a family of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFCCNx8n1fnUP8Ugm1-ZG2ejwhopQ">kamaiya</a> in western Nepal, who <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11107" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D11107&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFCi9UB_Y5sA-JzQss0k-3ZXkZqiQ">till 20 years ago</a> used to be bonded to landlords through a hereditary system of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19418#.X0sT5y0w0Wo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D19418%23.X0sT5y0w0Wo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHjVBjNcrEp9Pxg87caPM6JJAJX0g">indentured labour</a>. Chun Kumari spent her childhood working in her landlord’s house as a semi-slave kamlari, and at 15 was married off. She never went to school, and in her husband’s home she was too weighed down with household chores to learn to read and write. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">She has a dream</a>, Summan Humagain But earlier this month, at the age of 43, Chun Kumari got word that she had passed her SEE high school examination with a GPA of 2.25. She now plans to juggle her law-making duties at the provincial legislature by enrolling in political science at college.  “There is a lot of work still left to do in our country,” says Chun Kumari, “nothing can stop me now.”  It is this extraordinary confidence and unfailing grit that has brought Chun Kumari so far. She started out as a member of a local community forest user group in Kailali, and rose up the ranks to become a member of the Far-Western Provincial Assembly. She then educated herself, and is determined to fight <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHngGlkHLptbaUQb-V01SEfTy-k_A">socio-economic disparity</a> and societal oppression. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepals-girls-may-drop-out-of-school/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepals-girls-may-drop-out-of-school/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHYi5sYC5MC5YF0T7PO47uX6rDy4g">Half of Nepal's girls may drop out of school</a>, Namrata Sharma “Because of my poverty and society’s restrictions on females, I never got to go to school,” she recalls. “Later on, I was often humiliated because of my illiteracy.”In 2018, when she became a member of the Far-Western Provincial Assembly, she had to face much ridicule from party co-workers for being illiterate. Chun Kumari says: “I decided then and there to turn my shame into determination and found the courage to join a school.”So in 2018, inspired by another <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-kamlari-to-mp/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-kamlari-to-mp/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHMQmpqVav3qX_P8q-cN4y_BmQl4Q">former kamlari Shanta Chaudhary</a> who was elected to the Constituent Assembly seven year ago, Chun Kumari joined Grade 8 of Bhageswor School.She did not tell her husband or children, thinking they would not approve. A week after her classes started her husband found out, but luckily he was supportive.  <figure><img width="309" height="416" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba84e9c7e80680e0737d1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In class, Chun Kumari was aware of her age difference with other students. “It was incredibly uncomfortable at first. I couldn’t even bring myself to get up and use the washroom. I became ill because of the stress. But slowly, I made friends among my classmates who were much younger than even my own children,” she says. Chun Kumari’s son Dipak is 25, has graduated in science from college, and is now working at the Shuklaphanta National Park.Chun Kumari Chaudhari’s political life began in 1994, much before she taught herself to read and write. She started out as a member of the local community forest user’s group and worked her way up to be secretary and chair. She then was elected vice president of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taking-away-forests-from-communities/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taking-away-forests-from-communities/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598845909624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH93zYT5xGYNz83BRaqezYcwlV8WA">the Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN).</a>She was affiliated with the UML party, and in 2017 was elected to be a member of the provincial assembly. She says, “My role now is to change society, so that girls are not discriminated against, have better opportunities, and do not have to go through what I did.”

Nepali politician educates herself at age 43

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

Turkish Basketball

Thousands of Nepali students dreaming of an American education have been forced to look elsewhere as the Trump administration’s visa restrictions make their future uncertain.
The US was long considered a top destination for higher studies, making Nepal the 10th biggest country of origin for international students in America.&nbsp;
However, that number has seen a significant decline with the total for Nepali students now at 16,482. Some 8,000 Nepali students obtained no-objection certificates to study in the US from the Ministry of Education in the past year.&nbsp;
India, Australia, Canada, South Korea, United Kingdom and Japan are the other popular destinations for Nepali students. There are no clear numbers for Nepalis going to India, but a slight decline was noted this year after the deaths of two female students.
The US State Department has issued a circular to its embassies not to issue new visas to applicants until further notice. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio in the directive stated that the department planned to expand the screening of applicants' social media.&nbsp;
While new applicants are barred including those applying for visitor visas, students with scheduled interviews are allowed to proceed.
“Many of our students are affected by the new restrictions, but those who had applied for student visas earlier have got interview dates,” one Kathmandu-based college counsellor told us.
Meanwhile, even foreign students with spotless records already in the US have not been spared, as visa scrutiny intensifies under the new policy. In a move that underscores the growing sense of insecurity, many US colleges advised international students to carry their passports and documents at all times, even when traveling locally.
“Me and my friends did not go home this summer because we were not sure we would be allowed back, so we just went to Niagara Falls,” said a Nepali undergrad in Ohio, who like many interviewed for this report did not want her name used for fear of repercussion.
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Nepali students have adopted a cautious stance, with many choosing not to return home during summer vacation due to fear of visa revocations as well as travel bans. Meanwhile, over 7,000 Nepalis with Temporary Protected Status (TPS) will have to come back to Nepal by 5 August or face deportation. Thirty-seven were flown back to Kathmandu on Omni Air last week.
“The US is one of the most sought-after destinations for higher education, and the ban will definitely impact bright students,” says Narottam Aryal of the King’s College in Kathmandu.
Indeed, Nepali undergraduates admitted into Ivy League colleges for the 2025 academic year have been asked to look for alternatives. The entire Fulbright Foreign Scholarships Board resigned on Wednesday citing interference from the Trump administration on the selection of this year’s cohort. Some Nepali students already on Fulbright scholarships have noted disruptions, delays and even cancellation of stipends.&nbsp;
The student visa restrictions were initially just for foreign students admitted to Harvard University, but it was later extended to all Chinese students and now to all students. Universities like Columbia which actively recruit foreign students, face sharp enrolment declines, threatening their financial stability and diversity.
An Indian female PhD candidate at Columbia University had her visa revoked by the US State Department, and said she was targeted on the basis of her social media posts on Israeli military attacks in Gaza. Social media vetting of political activism has raised concerns about privacy and freedom of expression in a country where such rights were a given.
Many students have been informed via email that their visas have been revoked for getting speeding or parking tickets, but even others with no criminal record have been affected. The fear of deportation looms large amongst international students, including those from Nepal.&nbsp;
For most Nepalis who migrate to the US for education, the journey is a high-stakes investment. They come largely from middle-class families, often rely on a patchwork of scholarships, work-study programs, loans, or even the sale of family assets to afford fees.
Most Nepali students pursue STEM subjects which offer extended Optional Practical Training (OPT) periods that help fund their education. But with the US backsliding on education and humanitarian matters, countries like the UK and Canada are becoming more attractive despite their own recent stricter controls on student visas.&nbsp;
The UK universities saw a 63% rise in Nepali students’ admissions in 2024. Japan is another popular destination with 64,816 Nepali students enrolled as of 2024.
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Already, China, Hong Kong and Malaysia are poised to benefit from the increased scrutiny of US student visas. Several Hong Kong universities are offering unconditional admission to affected students, while Malaysian institutions are targeting previously US-bound Asian students. China and India have 330,000 and 280,000 students respectively in America, but the numbers for China have seen a sharp drop in the past year.
Elsewhere, branch campuses of American institutions such as NYU in Abu Dhabi, Georgetown in Dubai and Northwestern in Doha are getting more admission applications, and universities in the Gulf region are expanding infrastructure to accommodate those who would otherwise have gone to the US.&nbsp;
Even educational institutions in Nepal are hopeful that the US visa restrictions can be an opportunity to at least keep Nepali undergrads in Nepal, and also attract foreign students from the region.&nbsp;
“Many students might choose to complete their undergraduate degree here in Nepal and then move abroad for their Master’s degree later,” says Aryal of King’s College. “There was a need for quality higher education in Nepal anyway in terms of innovation and opportunities, so this could be the time to reduce our dependence on other countries.”
Nepal’s strategic position between India and China makes it sensitive to US policy shifts. India, a key ally, is also under US scrutiny for potential student travel restrictions. Chinese universities are already offering more scholarships to Nepali talent to capitalise on the US retreat.
American universities have challenged student visa restrictions in the courts. A federal court in Boston revoked the blanket ban on Harvard, and the State Department has ordered the resumption of processing student and exchange visitor visas.&nbsp;
Some are still hoping that President Trump will backtrack on the student visa restrictions, just like he has done with many of his more drastic executive orders.
Even so, the visa see-saw and longer-term uncertainties about living in the United States and its education system means students across the world are making alternative plans.
Says Aryal: “Policies of foreign countries change according to their needs, so excessive dependence was never a good idea. We should work to create different opportunities and choices of higher education within Nepal, so students are retained.” &nbsp;

America no longer prime destination for Nepali students

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

The Everest Industry

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