<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a17c9c7e80680e0d7084jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: BISWASH CHEPANG</figcaption></figure>Chepangs are a highly marginalised indigenous group in Nepal with an estimated 70,000 individuals spread across Chitwan, Makawanpur, Dhading and Gorkha districts. King Mahendra during Panchyat renamed Chepangs “Praja”, literally meaning ‘subjects’, which became a preferred last name within the community.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chepang-and-their-chiuri/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Chepangs</a> have long lived close to their forest homes, and practiced hunting, fishing, and foraging. But limited opportunities, subsistence farming and a donor-dependent livelihood have meant the people continue to live on the margins. Around 90% of the Chepang people live below the poverty line, earning just $50 per person a year, restricting their ability to seek education, healthcare and other basic necessities.One way to empower this community is through their participation and representation in politics. The good news is there have been constitutional reforms to support, empower and uplift the disadvantaged and excluded segments of Nepali society.Article 18 of the Constitution has a provision related to the right to equality while Article 42 speaks about the right in relation to social inclusion. Article 56 of the Constitution of Nepal 2015 has provisioned federal, provincial and local levels as key power structures of the country, and these three tiers of government can play a significant role in bringing the problems of Chepangs to the fore.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140220/63e3a1809c7e80680e0d7085jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But despite major political changes in recent decades, there has been little improvement in the lives of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chitwans-bote-people-in-a-changing-world/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">indigenous people</a> like the Chepang. The existing extractive national political eocnomy of Nepal has, in fact, become a mechanism for further marginalisation and exclusion for Chepangs, where members of the community are only considered vote banks while decision-making is exercised by socially and economically powerful actors.On the other hand, a lack of critical awareness among larger section of Chepang members specially looking for short term benefit such as cash amounts, foods, relief materials in the lead up the polls will be advantageous to politicians in getting them elected to the office.Political <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/including-the-excluded-in-the-bureaucracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">representation of an indigenous group</a> is one of the pillars of our Constitution, yet the Chepang have not been able to use its provisions for their good. Even during the Panchayat, Jhyapuram Praja was a member of the district assembly in Chitwan for an extended period of time, but was unable to represent Chepang concerns. In the 2017 general polls, two Chepang lawmakers were elected, Gobinda Ram Chepang and Maya Chepang, but they too failed to bring the wider community issues to the rostrum.Similarly, Santa Bahadur Praja served as Minister of State for Physical Infrastructure Development in Bagmati Province. But his responsibilities were constricted as the provinces were yet to formulate their sector laws under the Local Government operations Act 2017. In addition to this, clear functional demarcation among all government tiers for sector operations are not fully established, leading to confusion on executive powers granted to the provincial units by the constitution..In the 2022 elections, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-chiuri-boys-of-makwanpur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Chepangs</a> failed to secure even a single seat in Parliament. They are not even the chair or deputy in any of the municipalities in their home districts. Their political representation is limited to the ward level. Even then, only Chepangs nominated are those elected under the women's reservation quota.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140220/63e3a1869c7e80680e0d7086jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="898" height="592"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There are currently 12 locally elected Chepangs but most do not know sufficiently about their roles, responsibilities and rights. Govinda Ram Chepang, a former member of the Constituent Assembly who is now a chair of the Nepal Chepang Association even requested job orientation training since most representatives had little or no prior job experience.As such, none of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/First-Chepang-nurse,3143" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Chepang</a> representatives are working to solve the larger issues of the community such as funding an undergraduate institution for youths to enroll. All existing colleges are away from their hometown and most are unable to afford a room in the city as well as increased expenses.Similarly, access to easy health care especially for easily curable diseases and pregnancy complications should be the topmost priority as should be market-based employment opportunities for young people. Allowance for senior citizens, people with disabilities and others eligible for government support have to be facilitated.Government apathy has reached such heights that the Chepangs do not have any expectations from the state. They do not know what to ask for, either. It is up to educated people to use various platforms including social media to demand actions from their leaders and in turn, make them accountable.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140220/63e3a1899c7e80680e0d7087jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ward leaders should make sure that the voices from the grassroots are heard in the municipality’s planning process. They should be as involved in decision-making, they are agents of change, after all. They cannot be mollified with the tokenistic model of representation which will only serve to strengthen persisting inequalities.Brazilian educator Paulo Freire said inequality is sustained when the people most affected by it are unable to decode their social condition. It is high time to raise critical consciousness among larger Chepang members such that they are able to recognise all forms of injustice and take action against these systems.Only then we can break the vicious cycle of inequality and social injustice.Biswash Chepang is an MPhil Candidate at Kathmandu University. Bhawana Lamgade is a graduate of law

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Chepang in Nepal’s politics

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637232c29c7e80680e0c48aejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4000" height="3000"/><figcaption>All photos: BHADRA SHARMA</figcaption></figure>The cultures of Indigenous peoples across the world have traditionally depended on native plants and animals. It is when these culturally significant species start disappearing that the ways of life of those communities are also threatened — as is happening with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Chepang-living-edge,3136" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s semi-nomadic Chepang people</a>.The Chepang live along the Mahabharat sub-Himalayan belt, and their slash-and-burn lifestyle has always been inextricably linked to the versatile चिउरी Indian Butter Tree. But the accelerated destruction of the chiuri has imperilled Chepang traditions, culture and way of life.Known by its scientific name Diploknema butyracea, the Indian Butter Tree is the source of food, fuel, pesticide, fertiliser, cosmetic lotions, and is even given as dowry.Here in the rolling hills of Makwanpur district south of Kathmandu, Ramesh Praja remembers fondly the festive chiuri flowering season in winter, when the entire forest used to hum with bees to the blossoms.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/bee-population-in-decline,3613" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Honey from hives</a> of chiuri bees are especially delicious, and is said to have medicinal properties. Once they had the taste of chiuri honey, Praja remembers townspeople hiking up to Chepang villages to buy more.By evening, it would be the bats that would fly in to sip the nectar, and pollinate the chiuri flowers. The Chepang also hunted the bats, and it is a tradition in winter for relatives to gather around in the village and feast on tasty barbecued bats, inviting honoured guests.The trees fruit in spring, and it is another important food item in the Chepang diet. The seeds are ground and turned into butter that used to be taken down to the market in Chitwan, where <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/First-Chepang-nurse,3143" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Chepang</a> bartered it for salt and clothing.The hull from seeds are also used as organic pesticides and fertilisers on crops. Powered chiuri husk was also useful to sprinkle on water to drug fish and make them easier to catch.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637232c69c7e80680e0c48afjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="4000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637232ca9c7e80680e0c48b0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The chiuri butter had antiseptic properties, and the Chepang rubbed it like a lotion on their chafed hands.“We grew up with chiuri and in the company of bats,” Praja recalls. “The trees are now disappearing, and the bats too are gone.”Ramesh Praja has given up his people’s traditional forest life, and now runs a small shop by a new dirt road that has snaked up to the village. His family now cooks in oil bought at the market, and not anymore in chiuri butter.There are many factors that are depleting the trees: the climate crisis has dried up perennial springs and lowered the water table, chiuri saplings do not take root in the forest as they used to, road construction and expansion of settlements have led to landslides that destroyed the trees that were left. The Chepang themselves have felt that summers are unbearably hot even up in the mountains, and winters are milder. In <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/meanwhile-a-measles-outbreak-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Chepang settlement</a> of Silinge in Makwanpur, villagers say they now have never-before-seen mosquitos.“Our village is almost as hot as Chitwan now,” says Ramesh Praja.There has been an effort to re-introduce beekeeping, and some Chepang families are in the honey business. But in the absence of the chiuri trees, the bees do not have the special chiuri flowers that gave the honey from here its special taste.“If we could revive the chiuri forest, the honey would be like gold here,” says Motiram Chepang of Silinge.With the trees mostly gone, the Chepang of this area pack their hives into pickups and take them down to Chitwan or Hetauda to graze on flowers there. Besides the transport cost, they also have to pay a hefty rent per hive to let their bees out.Ramesh Praja himself lost about 80 bee hives during the pandemic lockdown when he could not protect his hives that he had taken down to Chitwan from floods. He says, “I lost about Rs800,000. If there had been chiuri trees at home I would not have lost all those hives.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637232cd9c7e80680e0c48b1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="4000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There was ample potential for the Chepang to promote <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/homestay-brings-locals-home/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">homestay tourism</a>, but with the trees gone the culture is not as vibrant and there is nothing to attract visitors.Former ward chair of Raksirang of Makwanpur Singha Lal Chepang says his entire focus now is on protecting the chiuri that are left and to revive the former forests. He recalls that back in the Panchayat-era 50 years ago, the tree was registered as belonging to the Chepang, and people here even had certificates to prove their ownership.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s community forestry</a> laws also protect the Chepang’s right to the trees, but the chiuri is still disappearing from the forests of Makwanpur, Gorkha, Chitwan and Dhading, where about 50,000 Chepang people live.The changing lifestyle of the Chepang has also damaged the chiuri stands. As villagers take to livestock rearing, their goats now graze in the forest and eat up the undergrowth so there are no new trees to replace the old ones when they die.“There used to be a time when each household could harvest up to 1,800kg of chiuri fruit and sell the butter in bulk,” remembers Sancharaj Praja. “Now the trees are gone, there is no more demand for the butter, and people have stopped even picking the fruits anymore.”Some development organisations have tried to help revive the chiuri plant, tens of thousands of seedlings were planted to try to conserve Chepang culture, but the attempts have failed so far mainly because the goats have eaten them up.The trees are not even given as dowry anymore. Says Motiram Chepang: “First off, there are no saplings to give away. But then the children also do not understand the value of their people’s attachment to this tree anymore.”

Chepang and their Chiuri

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108111152/636a35479c7e80680e0482a0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>Photo: CAROL INSKIPP</figcaption></figure>The ruined 250-year-old Gorkhali fortress of Upardang Gadi is located on the northern rim of Chitwan Valley. But that is not the only reason these forested mountains are special: this is also home to the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4568#.XKX3EVUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Spiny Babbler</a>, the rare bird found only in Nepal (pictured below).Bird Life International and Bird Conservation Nepal have concluded that the Gadi-Siraichuli Forest is an Important Bird and Biodiversity Area (IBA) of international value. There are only 37 other IBAs in Nepal, and this is one of the few not located within a protected area.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=24328&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In conservation, Nepal is not our of the woods yet</a>, Sonia Awale<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108111152/636a354b9c7e80680e0482a1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1200"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But now the forest is threatened by the construction of a new road that will be a short cut from Mathillo Kaule to Gadi (map). The alignment is along the steep forested slope, and locals are worried that it will destroy trees, disrupt water sources and threaten landslides. They have been protesting at Ichyakamana Rural Municipality to stop the road being built on this route.Located at 1,150m, the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Chepang-living-edge,3136" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chepang village</a> of Gadi lies at the foot of this forested slope that features a wide variety of shrubs, subtropical mixed broadleaf trees and wildlife. In fact, this is the largest and richest forest of this type remaining in Nepal, with 15 species of mammals, including the endangered Black Giant Squirrel (Ratufa bicolor).The Spiny Babbler (Turdoides nipalensis) lives on terraces built by the Chepang people at the edge of the forest. The Gadi-Siraichuli Forest has one of the highest populations of this rare endemic <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/decline-in-birds-of-migration-nepal" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bird in the country</a>.“The road will destroy the forest on the slope that is the main source of  spring water for our villages. How can we live here without water?” asks Ganesh Thapa Magar, a farmer.Another Gadi villager, Suk Bahadur Chepang, agrees: “My home is just below the forested hill where the new road is planned. Landslides in the monsoon will make it too dangerous to live there anymore.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108111152/636a354e9c7e80680e0482a2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="684" height="843">Besides these threats, the road will also put the 320 <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/birds-of-passage-Nepal,2921" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bird</a> and 56 butterfly species found here at risk. Members of the Sauraha-based Bird Education Society have been visiting the area since the 1990s, and say it is a treasure trove for nature.Bird species also include the Red-faced Liocichla (Liocichla phoenicea) a beautiful scarlet and brown bird that was thought to have become extinct in Nepal until it was re-sighted in 2016 after 178 years, by watchers from the Bird Education Society and the Nepalese Ornithological Union.Eight of these birds were found at 1,600m on Chisapanitar, close to the planned route of the road. The Red-faced Liocichla has not been found elsewhere in the country, and is listed as critically endangered in the national red list of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5151#.XKX4ElUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">birds of Nepal</a>.Twenty other threatened <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2341#.XKX4EVUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bird species</a> have been sighted regularly in the forest, including the Little Spiderhunter (Arachnothera longirostra) which is dependent on wild bananas, and the Red-headed Trogon (Harpactesery throcepalus) a beautiful red bird that needs a habitat of trees with a thick growth of climbers and creepers.Until recently, the indigenous Chepang people followed a nomadic lifestyle, living off the rich forests as hunter gatherers. As other ethnic groups migrated here, the Chepang started to take up a more settled life based on subsistence agriculture. But their terraces on the steep slopes do not produce enough food, and the Chepang still depend on wild food from the forest.The new road will run through the prime forest area for wildlife and destroy their homes, as well as disturb the terrace farms.There is an alternative route for the road from Mathillo Kaule to Gadi via Mayatar.  It is a bit longer but would protect the forest and the village water supply.The subtropical broadleaf forests of the Gadhi-Siraichuli IBA are of high quality and are now a rare and declining habitat in Nepal. They support great biodiversity and are an invaluable resource to local Chepang communities. The forest lies at the northern end of the Barandabhar Corridor that links Chitwan National Park to the Mahabharat forests, and is important for the north-south movement of animals in the Chitwan-Annapurna Linkage (CHAL) and Terai Arc Landscape (TAL).Says conservationist Hem Sagar Baral: “Peoples’ livelihoods, including those of the Chepang, depend on the watershed and forests of this area. Development impacting wildlife here should not be tolerated as we have no other places like this one. What is left must be preserved in its full integrity.”Carol Inskipp is a UK conservationist who has been coming to Nepal since 1977. Rupendra Karmacharya runs a lodge in Gadi village and works to preserve the local culture and biodiversity of the area.

Protecting the last home of the Spiny Babbler

<figure><img width="1400" height="934" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111144/6368e25f9c7e80680e033323jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Stuck: Children are eager to learn as they begin schooling, but soon feel stuck because the nearest school with grade 6 is 4 hours away. </figcaption></figure>Binita Dahal in BBC Nepali, 28 MayIt takes the whole day to reach Syamrang from the highway in Chitwan: four hours by jeep and five hours walk across rugged mountains. Approaching the village, there are people and children in ragged clothes. The elderly look listless, and there are young children carrying baby siblings.These Chepang villages do not have roads, electricity, education or health. On the next ridge is the village of Kanda, where eight villagers died eating poisonous mushrooms ten years ago. Houses destroyed by the earthquake have been roughly patched up with metal sheets.Syamrang’s only school has two small classrooms crammed with students – one room has children from Grade 1-3, and other has students from Grades 4 and 5. The damaged classrooms are being repaired, but it may take years.Most students drop out after Grade 5 because higher classes are four hours walk away across jungled mountains. Some keep repeating Grade 5 because there is nowhere else to study.Dilmaya Chepang repeated Grade 5 for three years, reading the same textbooks over and over so she would not forget how to read, and got married soon after. Today, at age 35, she already has three children who go to the school she went to.“Grade 6 was too far away, it is a difficult walk up and down mountains and through forests, so I just kept going to the same class and left school,” says Dilmaya, who is still so passionate about education that she teaches younger children in the light of a feeble solar lamp.After a day of working in the fields and collecting fodder in the forest, young women gather at the school to be taught how to read and write by Dilmaya. “I myself can barely recognise the Nepali alphabets, but this gives me a chance to keep studying myself,” says Dilmaya.She says the village and the school have not changed since she was a child. Dilmaya’s eldest daughter Ujeli is repeating Grade 5 just like her mother. There are women who went to the same school who have become grandmothers at 39.Almost all villages in this area bordering Chitwan and Dhading have the same problem that stems from remoteness and neglect.Nothing has changed here in 50 years, the school is older but its quality has not improved,” says Jhyapu Bahadur Chepang of Syamrang’s school management committee. Child marriage has not gone down, even though there are more girls than boys enrolled. Twenty-one students are enrolled in Dungbang Primary School here, of which 16 are repeating Grade 5. Atibal Praja is the principle of the very school he himself attended. He worked hard, completed his SLC and now is an exception as the only villager with higher education.“We have tried to talk to the government many times to send more teachers for higher classes, but no one listens,” he says. <figure><img width="1400" height="934" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111148/6368e2639c7e80680e033324jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Bimala Gurung has been a teacher at the school for the past 12 years, and says she hasn’t seen much change in living standard in the village in that time. “When I first came, the village was dirty, there was illiteracy, no health post, there was child marriage,” she says, “the village is still dirty, there is still illiteracy, no health post, and child marriage.”The only big change is that the young men now leave the village to work abroad. With the money they send home, some families now have mobile phones.The main reason nothing has changed is because the school stops at Grade 5, and many girls get married off soon after, thinks Jhyapu Bahadur Chepang. “The problem is lack of awareness because of lack of education,” he says.

Stuck in Grade 5

Many of us former Nepal Peace Corps volunteers (PCVs) would agree that our time in Nepal changed in significant but very different ways our perspectives on life if not the future paths we chose to follow. Of no one was this truer than Dorothy Mierow. Dorothy was born in 1920, in Colorado Springs. Her father Charles C Mierow was a classics scholar and Latin professor, who served for ten years as president of Colorado College.&nbsp; Dorothy developed an interest in animals as a child, graduated with a BA degree in natural history from Carlton College in 1942, a Master’s in biology from the University of Pittsburgh, and another Master’s in geography from the University of Minnesota.&nbsp; As a young woman, Dorothy traveled with her father throughout Europe, including a visit to ancient Greek ruins, and took a Magellan Tour by cruise ship around the world in 1958.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262" data-rendition-name="original" width="903" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>HOME AWAY FROM HOME: Dorothy Mierow as a college student in her native Colorado.</figcaption> </figure>  She was a college teacher during much of the 1940s, also teaching at a girls’ school in Hawaii. Then back to her native Colorado in 1953, where she became a curator and later director of the Colorado College Natural History Museum. She taught geography classes, and in her free time, Dorothy climbed 22 of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. Traveling in India in 1960, Dorothy decided to spend two weeks in Nepal. In late 1961, she filled out an application to join the Peace Corps and specified that she wanted to go to Nepal, ‘because I admired the people so much when my father and I were there on our trip’.&nbsp; Dorothy reached Kathmandu in September 1962 as the first group of American Peace Corps volunteers in Nepal. She stood out from the others: one of the few women in that group, surely the oldest at age 41, a world traveler, and a woman who already had established a professional career.&nbsp; One doubts if Dorothy had had a husband and children whether she would ever have gone to work and spend much of the rest of her life in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515" data-rendition-name="original" width="1259" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="How th Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life NT"> <figcaption>Pokhara Bazar in 1962.</figcaption> </figure>  The Peace Corps assigned Dorothy to teach geography at Tri-Chandra College. After the school closed in the winter due to lack of heating, USAID and the College of Education asked Dorothy to help train general science teachers.&nbsp; She taught for two months and became involved in a textbook-writing project, commenting: ‘I would like the children to know something about public health, conservation (the trees are going fast and so is the soil), and learn the names of some of their common birds, trees, and flowers. They are more impressed with electricity, airplanes, and cell structure.’ When a new college opened in Pokhara in 1963, Dorothy was transferred there and lived with a Nepali family. The college boasted 30 students and no permanent buildings.&nbsp; In October 1963, Dorothy wrote: ‘Pokhara is a town of almost 5,000 people … We are in a fertile valley surrounded by foothills … There is a small Mission Hospital … a Leper Hospital and Tibetan Refugee Camp started by the Red Cross and now run by the Swiss. With winter approaching, more Tibetans are appearing in town, often with pack horses or donkeys. Some have been carrying large boxes of powdered milk,donated (by USAID) to the camp from the airport … There is no electricity, and the transportation problems make many items scarce and expensive. I am really a sort of a museum. The landlord brings all kinds of people in to see how I live and count my shoes and dresses. They express amazement at my books, pictures, tin oven, Nepali dolls from Kathmandu, screened food shelves and curtained closet.’ The standard term for Peace Corps volunteers was two years, but Dorothy extended her term and was still at Prithvi Narayan College at the end of 1965, when she wrote that she had 20 Geography students in the first-year class and 6 in the second year preparing for the IA Examination. The college enrollment was 125 students, and the foundation for a new science building was being excavated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="605" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow and friends at Phewa Lake.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy noted that she ate one meal a day at the (Shining Mission) Hospital but otherwise lived on dal-bhat, momo, and potato curry at local shops. However, she had developed a new passion: to build what she initially called the Pokhara Museum of the Himalaya. In commendable Peace Corps fashion, Dorothy always worked with Nepalis and respected the culture. ‘The greatest joy and satisfaction I have had has been from the building of a Museum-Library in memory of my parents … It has been possible to feel like a wealthy benefactor with the money saved by father for the family’s education and now available for the education of others… (Father) would have loved to be in on the founding of a new college and be able to plan a library. Several hundred of the books to be in the museum-library came from his collection and were carefully selected to be of use for students in Nepal…’&nbsp; ‘The museum part is to satisfy my own inclinations and was thought of when I found how little diversion there was for the people of Pokhara… It is part of the University requirements for the college that it should have a geography and biology museum. The museum building is small but adequate.&nbsp; I have tried to design it in harmony with Nepalese architecture and decorate it with some of the art of the best artists or woodcarvers… Posts holding up the porch roof are carved by Cottage Industries to represent different peoples of Nepal in typical costumes. The door was carved by a local wood carver and has typical birds of Nepal around it. Inside are 10 roof-support carvings designed by the retired Director of the National Museum in Kathmandu, Mr. C.M. Maskey.&nbsp; They were carved by the best wood carvers in Patan very skilfully. The building has three rooms: the library, the exhibition room, and a smaller workroom which can be used by our newly formed Woman’s Club as well as other groups or classes.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8" data-rendition-name="original" width="629" height="599" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow with local women in Pokhara in 1969.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy promoted her project to influential Nepalis connected with organisations whose support she solicited: The Department of Archaeology, the Department of Agriculture, the Godavari Botanical Gardens; Tribhuvan University’s Science and Education Department, Nature Conservation Society.&nbsp; The museum was opened officially in early 1967. The Annapurna Natural History Museum, the building Dorothy designed and had constructed, is still open and features some exhibits which she created many years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>The Annapurna Natural History Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy returned to America in 1967, but she longed for Nepal. In the spring of 1969, she again tried to enroll as a Peace Corps volunteer but was told that as she had spent more than four years, she would not be eligible for another assignment. Undeterred, she persuaded the college in Pokhara to invite her to return as a teacher.&nbsp; UNICEF and the Forestry Department sponsored Dorothy to prepare charts on trees, birds, animals and flowers in colour for distribution to the schools of Nepal. Dorothy, back in the Peace Corps, returned to Pokhara and the Museum in 1972. She formed a friendship with her former geography student from Sikles, Chandra Prasad Gurung, and in 1974, she brought Chandra to America, where he enrolled in Colorado College and studied cultural anthropology.&nbsp; Chandra subsequently earned his PhD in geography from the University of Hawaii and returned to Pokhara to become director of the Annapurna Conservation Area Project. Gurung actively promoted ecotourism, landscape conservation, and biodiversity conservation in Nepal. His life was cut short along with those of 23 other Nepalis and foreigners who perished in a helicopter crash near Taplejung in September 2006.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow's four books on Nepal and its biodiversity. </figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy worked with several well-known Nepalis to publish her paintings and photos in beautifully illustrated books. She and Hemanta Mishra of the National Parks and Wildlife Service wrote Wild Animals of Nepal (Ratna Pustak Bhandar, 1976). More than 400 photos Dorothy took on treks to the Everest region, Gosaikunda, Muktinath, Jumla and Rara Lake, as well as travels in the Tarai, appeared in Himalayan Flowers and Trees (Sahayogi Prakashan, 1978).&nbsp; The botanist Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha identified the species. Dorothy and Kesar Lall published This Beautiful Nepal (Sahayogi Press, 1981). Birds of the Central Himalayas (1988) contained Dorothy’s paintings of 250 species of birds found along the areas of the Kali Gandaki River, Pokhara, Chitwan and the central Tarai. Dorothy summed up her life and work in Nepal in Thirty Years in Pokhara (Pilgrims Book House, 1997). Dorothy returned to Pokhara and her adopted Gurung family several times during the 1980s and 1990s to celebrate festivals and meet old friends. Her final years were spent at her mountain cottage in Green Mountain Falls north of Colorado Springs. She died at the age of 79 in August, 2000. Nepal gave new meaning and purpose to Dorothy Mierow’s life. Daniel W Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. The author thanks Special Collections, Tutt Library, Colorado College.

How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer’s life

· On the night of 15 May, two glacial lakes burst in Tharka in Humla and the debris flow washed away homes and bridges.&nbsp; · Last week, a slurry surge on the Kali Gandaki in Upper Mustang caused at least Rs15 million in damage, and was traced to a melting glacier. · Dozens are feared dead after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">an expanding glacial lake in Tibet overflowed</a>, sweeping down into Nepal and damaging four hydropower plants generating 230MW, nearly 8% of the country’s total grid supply.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060748_45225dc707c1e9c2968ca8dbf6e564e01e4eb6e2ff254fb8eb940cf62cdd910b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250718060748_45225dc707c1e9c2968ca8dbf6e564e01e4eb6e2ff254fb8eb940cf62cdd910b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2667" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Rasuwa flood"> <figcaption>Miteri friendship bridge connecting Nepal and China was swept away in the Rasuwa flood. Photo: PRAKASH CHANDRA TIMILSENA / NPL</figcaption> </figure>  And those are just in the past month. Climate scientists say Himalayan glacial lake outbursts are becoming more frequent and destructive, and a warning for Nepal not to put all its eggs in the hydropower basket.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">Record precipitation last September</a> unleashed floods that killed 200 people, and temporarily slashed Nepal’s total generation capacity of 3,000MW by nearly half. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster">Melamchi flood of 2021</a> caused by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-not-so-permanent-frost">permafrost melting</a> on a glacier upstream nearly destroyed a $800 million water supply scheme, Nepal’s largest infrastructure project which four years later still has not resumed full operation. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">glacial lake overflow in Sikkim</a> caused by record rainfall in September 2023 that destroyed the $1.2 billion Chungthung Dam and caused catastrophic damage to infrastructure on the Teesta River. This was a warning to the cascade of hydropower plants on the Arun and Marsyangdi river basins.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060736_6f61797a6be308321e3bae26e55d2f64cba4b9e5eb262adacb9e92fb5f3c6152.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250718060736_6f61797a6be308321e3bae26e55d2f64cba4b9e5eb262adacb9e92fb5f3c6152" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="549" loading="lazy" alt="hydro disasters and hydropower plants"> </figure>  Nepal has set a target of generating an additional 28,500MW by 2035 -- out of the feasible 48,000MW -- but how viable is an energy strategy that is exposed to heightened risk due to climate breakdown? &nbsp; “As extreme weather events increase, we must design and build infrastructures respecting river flow and topography,” says former Energy Secretary Dwarika Nath Dhungel. “We must make the best use of our water resources, but not by letting excavators loose everywhere mining riverbeds and building haphazardly where we shouldn’t.”&nbsp; Although no project can be disaster-proof, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure">climate smart design</a> can minimise damage from flash floods and landslides. Recent disasters have driven up insurance premiums for energy projects in Nepal, and smaller ones cannot even afford them. The 456MW Upper Tamakosi hydroelectric project which is still not fully functional after the September floods has claimed insurance worth Rs1.8 billion. The alternative to high risk high investment hydropower projects is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-s-cooking-in-nepal-besides-politics">energy diversification</a> to other renewables such as solar, wind or biogas. Nepal gets annual sunlight of 300 days with 6-7 hours on average to total 50,000 terawatt-hours (TWh) per year.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060744_4acd452b4117180ca9bb5d3be839ff46dfd5464e4d507f5ad3704cef6253bc48.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250718060744_4acd452b4117180ca9bb5d3be839ff46dfd5464e4d507f5ad3704cef6253bc48" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="solar power"> <figcaption>Farmers in Tarai using solar powered water pump. Photo: GHAMPOWER</figcaption> </figure>  The Solar and Wind Energy Resource Assessment (SWERA) calculates that Nepal could source 3,000MW from wind energy alone, considering 10% of the area with more than 300W/m2 wind power density. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Solar energy</a> stations are cheaper and quicker to build, and would be an ideal alternative to reliance on hydropower.&nbsp; “There has been some investment in solar power, especially from the state sector,” says water expert Madhukar Upadhyay. “But there is an issue of land acquisition since the arrays need a lot of space. It is comparatively easier to get a permit to put up a hydropower plant on a river.” As for biogas, there is simply no incentive to build on past success with household level plants to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-bullshit">promote industrial-scale production</a>. Scaling up biogas by integrating it with urban biodegradable waste would still be a viable alternative to LPG.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250718060744_715d44afd5eb4ba8dafa209b0ad0f19400665797b5f078f5636821e600f96684.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250718060744_715d44afd5eb4ba8dafa209b0ad0f19400665797b5f078f5636821e600f96684" data-rendition-name="original" width="1419" height="954" loading="lazy" alt="windmill"> <figcaption>A wind mill in Hapsikot in Nawalpur. Photo: WINPOWER NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s public sphere is buzzing with excitement over the discovery of potentially 430 billion cubic metres of methane gas beneath Dailekh district that, if properly harnessed, would meet the country’s energy demand for the next 50 years. Even though a feasibility study is awaited, politicians from the prime minister down see this as a petro bonanza that will make Nepal rich. But drilling, storage and distribution of CNG in the country’s current kleptocratic state make that unlikely. If Nepal was to get rich solely on its hydro-energy potential, it could have done so in the past 50 years. Says Dhungel: “This is not exactly a new discovery, but it is premature to celebrate until its extraction is proven to be cost effective. And let us hope it does not get <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balance-of-power">tangled in geopolitics</a>, since China is involved in the prospecting and drilling, which could make India uneasy.”&nbsp; The country suffers from the Dutch Disease curse even before its resource is fully exploited. And the same cronyism, corruption and rent-seeking structure cannot deliver the riches we expect from Dailekh’s methane discovery. Now, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/right-climate-for-nepal-s-energy-transition">with hydropower in jeopardy</a>, Nepal’s planners will have to evolve a new strategy for energy security into the future. But first, governance needs to be cleaned up with long-term strategic planning that takes climate risk into account. For example, do we need to mine fossil gas when there are renewable options? Will Dailekh take Nepal away from its climate commitments? Says Madhukar Upadhyay: “Nepal has always been resource rich and management poor. And the larger the resource, the bigger our management incapacity. It is a societal malaise.”&nbsp;

Nepal’s Resource Curse

चौतारा rest stops have long been an integral part of scenic touristic town of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-six-decades-ago">Pokhara </a>but are now rarely seen as the city bursts at the seams. They say inhabitants of Pokhara saw a plane before they saw cars. Indeed, the grass airfield was built in the 1950s, while the Kathmandu highway 20 years later. Before roads, people walked to get around, pausing to rest or even nap under the shade of banyan-pipal trees. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-s-desperation-and-hope">Pokhara airport’</a>s ‘terminal’ in those days was a shady chautara where passengers waited for their flights. The chautara bore silent witness to daily life, whether it was travellers seeking a brief respite from the summer heat or villagers gathering for a chat in the mornings and evenings. But with the roads came vehicles, and then houses started filling up spaces, even farmlands. Pokhara began transforming from a serene village to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-comes-alive-at-night">bustling city</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2147" height="1581" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  The banyan-pipal trees were chopped down to make way for wider intersections and buildings. The once-iconic rest stops that carried Pokhara’s identity had all but vanished. “Building chautara was once considered a religious duty, which is why so many of them were constructed across Pokhara,” says archivist Sunil Ulak. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10927">Ekai Kawaguchi</a>, a Japanese Buddhist monk, who visited Nepal 120 years ago en route to Tibet, documented <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-visitors-in-pokhara-to-admire-view">the landscape of Pokhara</a> and its surroundings. In his book, Three Years in Tibet, he reflects on the natural beauty of the town and its shady trees. A chautara used to be surrounded by ponds, where shepherds would bring their cattle to drink from while they took a nap under the shade. The gentle rustling of leaves in the cool breeze lent a soothing melody as did the chirping of birds, while the insects took refuge in the branches and leaves. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-800-years-ago">Pokhara 800 years ago</a>, Kunda Dixit This ‘nature’s breeze’, as botanist Kalyan Panta puts it, is now history due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">haphazard urbanisation</a>. “When the wind strikes against one leaf, it creates a domino effect and other leaves start waving as well,” he explains. There were 632 chautara in the city until 1977, and by 2000 the number had fallen to 278. But in some wards the number of trees fell from 55 in 1984 to only five now.&nbsp; The gradual loss of these resting places has meant habitat <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">destruction of birds and insects</a>, it has also damaged the environment and natural beauty of the city.&nbsp; Researcher Jagannath Adhikari’s study showed that infrastructure projects ignored the environment, and concluded that that urbanisation in Pokhara was unsustainable.&nbsp; The destruction continues to this day. Recently, old chaurata in wards 6, 13 and 14 were cleared to make way for a sacrificial ritual. In fact, ward 6 got a permit from the local government to clear its remaining trees.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  But in wards 13 and 14, the Human Service Foundation cut down some 33 trees for which it is in a dispute with the metropolitan city as there is no unclear jurisdiction regarding who gives the permit. The Kaski Division Forest Office is currently investigating the matter. Elsewhere in ward 19, the ward office had launched ‘मेरो रूख, म काट्छु’ campaign due to an alleged chaos caused by monkeys in the area. The decision was rescinded after an all-around opposition.&nbsp; To be sure, there are policies in place to protect trees such as the Gandaki Province Forestry Act, 2080, and the Regulations, 2081. The province government also introduced an act in 2019 per which no tree, including pipal, silk cotton and other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/trees-trees?%2F">trees of natural and historical importance</a> shall be damaged, eroded or removed. But the local government, responsible for implementing the Act, is doing the opposite. “If this rapid rate of tree felling continues, neither trees nor chautara will survive for the future generation,” conservationist Ram Bahadur Poudel tells us, adding that old trees are being cleared under the pretext of pruning branches. Interestingly, Ulak notes that Pokhara-8 was called सिमलचौर in the past because there were so many majestic silk cotton trees, but there are very few left, if any, and hence altering the identity of a place. With modernisation, people have questioned the significance of chautara in this day and age. But they still have relevance. Urban centres in Pokhara and Kathmandu are much hotter than the outskirts because of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/in-the-heat-of-the-moment-5xcycyot">urban heat island effect</a>. Says archivist Ulak: “While their original purpose was to provide rest, today they continue to play a crucial role in regulating temperature, beautifying the city, and preserving our environment.”

Trees of life and living

Nepalis are living longer than ever. By 2028, the country is set to join the ranks of other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-demographic-window-is-closing">ageing societies</a> around the world, and by 2054, 1 out of every 7 people in Nepal will be over 65. Life expectancy at birth has risen dramatically from just 55 in 1990 to 71 today, &nbsp;thanks to improvements in public health and access. But as more people live longer, the country must also prepare for a parallel rise in age-related illnesses and the complex social and medical needs that come with an <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/need-to-prepare-for-ageing-society,3624">ageing population</a>. Extended families have always acted as a safety net for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/home-sweet-home-for-older-nepalis">the elderly</a>, with children and grandchildren shouldering most caregiving duties. But with more than 1,600 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">Nepalis migrating </a>every day, older parents are left behind with no one to care for them. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-equaliser">Remittances</a> from migrating youth, which account for nearly a third of Nepal’s GDP, have kept the economy afloat. But money sent home cannot make up for the chronic departure of kin and caregivers, who are often the first to catch the signs and symptoms of disease in elders. In rural areas where over 85% of Nepal’s elderly live, the absence of this daily vigilance means early signs of illness often go unnoticed until they become debilitating. As a result, chronic conditions like hypertension, diabetes, and depression are left unmanaged.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250720130748_213f2c65f2638872e9ac0550a7ac251e4960c3726dc5c76215962a23ba71dff1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250720130748_213f2c65f2638872e9ac0550a7ac251e4960c3726dc5c76215962a23ba71dff1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="701" loading="lazy" alt="Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier"> </figure>  Geriatric medicine is largely absent from medical curricula and there is no national plan in place to manage cognitive decline, memory loss and confusion. These are often mistaken for signs of normal ageing, instead of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dementia-brings-new-problem-that-families-have-little%20knowledge-of,2151">dementia</a>, delaying care until it is too late. The same pattern plays out with strokes, osteoarthritis, and vision problems — conditions that could be managed early but are instead allowed to spiral into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/changing-disability-to-this-ability-h68f6sq2">disability</a>. Nepal is not ready for an older future. It needs a strategy for ‘smart ageing’ where the focus is not adding years to life, but enhancing years lived through the intelligent application of policy, infrastructure, and crucially, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">technology</a>. Many models of smart ageing, however, are sculpted around modern societies where independent living in later life is the norm. Furthermore, eroding traditional family care and an underdeveloped formal care system means there is a large gap that can’t simply be filled by copy-pasting from foreign models. Nepal must shape its own version of smart ageing. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/healthcare-moving-from-hospitals-to-homes?%2F">tech boom</a> has led to homegrown digital healthcare apps such as Hamro Doctor, Cura Health, Jeevee and Health Yaad Ayo which offer teleconsultations, online appointments, and at-home test bookings. As <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/nepal-s-new-digital-landscape">smartphones and internet access</a> extend to the most rural fringes of the Nepali countryside, geography is no longer a barrier to the use of these digital tools. What limits their use is the lack of digital proficiency among the older generation. Others find the idea of turning to a device instead of a familiar, reassuring face unfathomable. That is why <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/addressing-nepals-digital-divide?ref=blog.togglecorp.com">digital literacy</a> efforts must be paired with guided human support to build trust alongside technical skill. Such a model of community-led digital mediation is already gaining traction elsewhere. In the UK, ‘digital health ambassadors’—often young people or even schoolchildren—are trained to co-design and advocate for online platforms that resonate with peers who might otherwise feel excluded from automated health services. A Nepali version could engage cohorts of nursing students, tech-savvy youngsters and returnee migrants to assist elders in navigating digital health platforms and troubleshooting problems, and most of all, normalising the idea of health apps being a reliable recourse.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250720130748_fcb94ab76e76b5574189757e88d76fccad4e115e78dd9eae92a3bd4c882c3431.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250720130748_fcb94ab76e76b5574189757e88d76fccad4e115e78dd9eae92a3bd4c882c3431" data-rendition-name="original" width="2246" height="1590" loading="lazy" alt="Smart ageing is Nepal’s next frontier"> </figure>  Nepal’s own network of Female Community Health Volunteers (FCHVs), whose credibility is rooted in long-standing relationships across rural communities, could be similarly upskilled, their roles in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/target-2030-for-maternal-and-newborn-health">maternal and child health </a>expanded and repurposed to also include geriatric tech support. However, there is a limit to how much older adults can adapt to new technologies. So, Nepal should simultaneously invest in passive technologies—tools that monitor and act for the elderly, instead of demanding active use. That is where wearables and in-home smart health devices collectively known as 'gerontechnology' come in. Picture an 82-year-old in far-flung Rolpa, away from the facilities of an urban hospital. Installed in her home are low-cost motion sensors that monitor prolonged inactivity or signs of a fall, instantly triggering alerts to the nearest health post when necessary. On her wrist, a wearable bracelet continuously tracks her sleep, vital signs, oxygen saturation, and glucose levels. This data is encrypted and synced to a digital dashboard accessible by health staff at the local post. If the system flags an acute risk—such as a potential stroke or hypoglycemia—a nearby health worker is dispatched immediately to her home. If her readings over time indicate a trend toward a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepalis-have-high-blood-pressure">chronic condition</a> like diabetes, community health volunteers step in. They help schedule a virtual consultation with an endocrinologist in Butwal. Based on the advice received, she gets a prescription and picks up her medication from the local community pharmacy, along with a smart dispenser to ensure she sticks to her treatment plan without missing doses. This is not as far-fetched as it may sound. Many of the individual devices forming this connected medical system called an Internet of Medical Things (IoMT) already exist in Nepal as imported commercial products. What is missing is a stronger framework for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/public-health-partnership">public-private collaboration</a>: one where health tech companies continue developing locally adapted tools, and the government actively integrates these innovations into public health delivery. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/nepal-as-an-ai-power-bank">Nepal’s tech ecosystem</a> is maturing, but policymaking must evolve in tandem, especially when it affects an older generation largely resistant to change. The backlash against the recent mandate requiring National Identity Cards for accessing social security benefits revealed the pitfalls of imposing top-down reforms without adequate preparation or support for seniors. For Nepalis to age well, community caregivers, doctors, innovators, and above all, the state, must step in where families have stepped away. The goal is not to replicate traditional care, but to build a coordinated system of support that connects everyone through technology. The future is older for Nepal, let us be wiser too. The writers are pursuing their undergraduate studies in biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.