<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e659c7e80680e0bd544jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2592" height="1944"/><figcaption>All photos courtesy: PRAKASH GURUNG</figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e699c7e80680e0bd545jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="292" height="277">This 7th instalment of Diaspora Diaries is timed with the World Day for Safety in the Workplace and 1 May Labour Day.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e6a9c7e80680e0bd546jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="289" height="174">I worked overseas in Qatar for 13 years as a safety adviser in an oil and gas company followed by two years in the UAE. The Gulf states are rich because of their oil reserves, but as an employee for many years in this sector with direct experience, I was able to develop a unique understanding of this business.The company I worked for produced 500,000 barrels of crude oil per day. I was stationed on an off-shore rig in the Persian Gulf, and this was a high-risk, high-reward job. Offshore assignment is organised around a unique work-leave schedule in which I was on duty for six weeks, and got paid home leave for six weeks after that.During the 54 days of work on the rig, we did not even have a single day off, and being in the middle of the sea was mentally taxing at times. We did not get to see the land at all, except on very clear days when we could make out the brown hills of the Iranian coast far away. Gazing at land through binoculars was a source of entertainment and comfort during those six sea-bound weeks.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e6b9c7e80680e0bd547jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2448" height="3264">Despite the risks, the job was a sweet deal because it gave me the best of both worlds: to work in Qatar with higher pay but without losing touch with my family whom I got to be with every other month.This was a blessing because I knew my Nepali compatriots in Qatar were unable to see their families for years on end, and missed all important milestones in their children’s lives.As safety adviser, my job was to ensure that workers on the offshore rig were safe. The safety protocols in the oil drilling business are very strict, since even a small mistake can cost lives and cause damage worth millions of dollars.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries 1</a>, Nepali TimesJust as an example, we were required to wear H2S gas detectors at all times in case there was a leakage, which could be instantly lethal. There were many other precautions that always kept us on our toes. And we had a persistent and gnawing fear about things that could possibly go wrong. It is a kind of fear that I was not used to, and had never felt before.When you are on land, there are many escape routes in case of fire. But in case of an emergency in an off-shore rig, with only the horizon in all directions, our sole option is to jump off the rig into the shark infested sea.Thankfully, there were life boats, rafts and helicopters on standby for rescue if something did go wrong.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e6f9c7e80680e0bd548jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4000" height="3000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e739c7e80680e0bd549jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="520"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e779c7e80680e0bd54ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480">Even then, I cannot explain the rush of relief I used to feel at the end of every six weeks when we were choppered out of the helipad to shore, and on to Nepal to be with the family. Six weeks later, we had to be back, and I used to whisper a little prayer before boarding the helicopter that would drop me back on the rig again.For 13 long years, my life was a cycle every 54 days that alternated between the longest six weeks on the oil rig that felt like eternity, and the shortest six weeks in Nepal that went by in the blink of an eye.A big part of my job entailed training workers to be safe, but it was difficult to guarantee that they implemented all that was being taught. As workers, it is natural for many to look for shortcuts, but in this sector, shortcuts can cost lives.So, I tried to use as many personal stories as possible to humanise the consequence of such accidents that are common in the oil business. Showing a picture of someone’s daughter unable to hold her father’s fingers who lost them during a workplace injury communicated the need for precautions more than me giving a dry lecture, for example.The kind of risks rig workers including Nepalis had to take such as balancing high on off-shore scaffolding were beyond comprehension. But I am grateful that during my time as a safety adviser, there were no fatalities in the projects I oversaw.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries 2</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e7b9c7e80680e0bd54bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e7e9c7e80680e0bd54cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1002" height="751">I never thought I would apply for a job in Qatar given my educational background. I had dreams of going to a Western country, until I got cheated by an agent who had promised to send me to America and fleeced me of Rs700,000.It was completely by chance that I was interviewed for a safety officer job in the Gulf by a European company that showed promise for professional growth and good earnings. That was what led me down this career path.That is when I realised that I had misunderstood that earnings in the West would be more. I was actually paid more in Qatar than I would have been able to earn elsewhere, and I could also save more because accommodation and food were covered, and there were no taxes.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries 3</a>, Nepali TimesWe Nepalis have still not been able to take up the higher paying jobs in the Gulf which are dominated by Filipinos and Indians, among others. We see the Gulf just as a place offering low-salaried jobs and start primarily as helpers.There are many missed opportunities we could be benefiting from. But there are increasing numbers of Nepalis who are earning handsome amounts and serve in key positions in the Gulf.  Over the course of my stay abroad, I must have remitted back to Nepal Rs50 million or more. I am really proud of this, especially given my humble beginnings in Lamjung.However, I have not been able to use my skills and experience after I returned, although I am sure it would have a lot of use in Nepal. As someone who has amassed so much experience as a safety officer, I saw  red flags everywhere on my return -- at Kathmandu airport, along the roads, at construction sites, in ongoing infrastructure projects, and even within homes.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali TimesAnd yet, there is no space for those of us with the Occupational Health and Safety (OHS) skills to use the knowledge we have gained to address these lapses. I have seen my friends who have similar experience as me from the Gulf in occupational safety and health topics fail in their attempts to do something in this sector both individually and collectively in Nepal after their return.There is a clear need for these skills and knowledge in our country but the recognition and ability to utilise them are missing. Meanwhile, these very skills have been instrumental in contributing to the rapid transformation of countries like the UAE and Qatar.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e819c7e80680e0bd54djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="468" height="727">I have instead resorted to starting an agriculture business in Nepal where there is space to intervene even though it is not exactly my area of expertise -- I have started a cold storage with a capacity of 18 tonnes.I buy produce from farmers in Dolakha, Ramechhap, Bhaktapur and sell the produce at better market rates during the off season. I also provide higher prices to farmers who otherwise are compelled to sell their produce at lower rates out of fear of them getting spoiled.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e839c7e80680e0bd54ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e879c7e80680e0bd54fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480">Back home in Nepal after 13 years, Gurung has not been able to use the skills and experience he gained in the Gulf, but has invested his savings in an agriculture business and refrigerated warehouse on the outskirts of Kathmandu. Both my experiences here and in the Gulf allowed me to directly interact with workers engaged in back-breaking work and to look for ways to minimise the risks they face, albeit very different kinds of dangers. The financial rewards are indeed better abroad than here where many struggle to even make ends meet.But I cannot also help notice the overall contentment in the faces of farmers here in Nepal, which they seem to lose when we are in the Gulf away from family, toiling in the heat. We turn ourselves into income generating machines with a singular purpose of maximising our earnings during our stay abroad.It is as if the desert heat sucks the life out of the workers, many of whom lack proper nutrition and adequate sleep. It is also evident that regardless of the location, it is always the most hard-working individuals engaged in back-breaking, strenuous jobs who are compensated the least while being employed in the riskiest jobs.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fate-joins-then-separates-siblings/">Fate joins, then separates, siblings</a>, Anil ShresthaTranslated from a conversation in Nepali with Prakash Gurung. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

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Between home and the deep blue sea

Rohit is from Bihar and drives an auto rickshaw in Mumbai. Life has been a struggle ever since he lost his parents in a car crash. Like many young men from Bihar in this big city, he migrated here to make a living.Then came the pandemic in 2020, and the lockdown meant that Rohit had no income at all. He and his family had to rely on the municpality’s two free meals a day.   “Mumbai belongs to the rich, except during elections,” says the 23-year-old as he negotiates the city’s dreary traffic, recalling how his wife and young son were evicted from their room for unpaid rent.But one day a miracle happened. A Nepali caregiver named Manjeela, whom Rohit knew, came to the rescue and along with her two daughters offering his family shelter and food for a few weeks.Rohit says he and his wife struggled to comprehend Manjeela’s generosity. Why was she going out of her way to help a poor family when their own family in Bihar had refused to help them?“I am so used to people turning their back on me that I just did not understand Manjeela’s kindness. It felt uncomfortable to accept such a genuine gesture,” he adds.Manjeela then found out from the media that the popular Bollywood actor Sonu Sood was helping migrant workers like Rohit with transportation to their homes. She coordinated with Sood’s team and registered Rohit and his family so they could travel back to Bihar.“Sonu Sir came to see us off and I even got to shake his hands,” smiles Rohit. Had it not been for Manjeela and Sonu Sood, Rohit knows he would have been one of the hundreds of thousands walking home to their villages along train tracks, evicted and penniless -- an iconic image during India’s first lockdown in early 2020. “What other option did we have? Even thinking about the possibility of walking back brings tears to my eyes,” he says. <img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/637203159c7e80680e0b27ecjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Adds Rohit: “For tens of thousands like me, Sonu was a real-life hero. But for my family specifically, Manjeela was an angel. I will never be able to forget what they did for me and my family.” --AmitA quiet man with a wide smile, 45-year old Amit spent a decade in Saudi Arabia taking care of a family of 7, alongside three <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/south-asias-migrants-shared-problems-share-solutions/">other South Asian migrants</a> including a Nepali housemaid.He had come home to India for his nephew’s wedding when Covid-19 hit, and he was stuck because of a Saudi ban on flights because of the Delta outbreak. Two years later, it finally looks like he can <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/">rejoin his employment</a>, but only by making a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/indians-use-nepal-to-circumvent-travel-bans/">convoluted journey through Kathmandu</a> for a flight to Riyadh. India has finally been lifted off the Saudi red list, but direct flights from Mumbai are unaffordable for Amit. That is why he is flying from Delhi to Kathmandu along with three other stranded Indian migrant workers. This is a less expensive option – at least that is what his agent told him.Agents are skillful at finding loopholes around flight bans and restrictions, and provide options for desperate workers like Amit. But the Kathmandu option is also expensive for him: he had to pay the agent ₹85,000, including costs for a two-week quarantine in Nepal.It was not an ideal arrangement, given pre-Covid flights were a fraction of what he is paying now, but Amit says at least he will start earning again soon. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/living-with-covid-in-2022/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">uncertainties brought by Omicorn</a> might trap him for extended periods once again, but he cannot afford to take any more chances.“For now, the priority is my daughter’s wedding,” says Amit who will have to pay the groom up to ₹400,000 (Rs640,000) in dowry. This is over 15 months of his wages, even if he were to save every paisa. There are other regular costs to take care of back home -- for food, medicine, loans for the ticket and his children’s education, making it difficult to save even a small portion of his earnings.Amit looks out of the plane’s window (pictured right) at Himalayan peaks as the plane begins its descent into Kathmandu. He says: “The work in Saudi is not easy. What work is easy? But it pays, and that’s what matters. I can save ₹25,000 a month, and that’s more than double of what I can earn in India.” <img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/637203189c7e80680e0b27edjpeg.jpg" alt="">Dhana Dhana is from Gulmi district in Nepal, and is finally flying home from Delhi after the pandemic hit two years ago.“Nepal is so close, yet I have not seen my family for two-and-half years,” he says.For many Nepalis, a work stint in India is a stepping stone to go to Malaysia or the Gulf. They can save enough in India to afford to pay recruiters for the overseas jobs.But Dhana’s work history is unique. He has been to India before, then to Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, UAE and he has come right back to India after his boss in the UAE transferred him to look after his home in India. <img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/6372031b9c7e80680e0b27eejpeg.jpg" alt="">Older Nepali migrant workers find the culture and familiarity of India more appealing, even though the earnings may not be as much as elsewhere. Many others are here for seasonal work as drivers or security guards because they cannot afford to pay recruiters for jobs in the Gulf. Younger Nepalis, however, do not find India as appealing.Despite being one of the largest destination countries for Nepali workers, India seldom gets the attention it deserves and is treated akin to internal migration. There is no precise count of Nepali workers in India because of the open border and no requirement for permits. But this migrant workforce <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/">suddenly became visible during India’s Covid lockdowns</a> as Nepalis <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-braces-for-its-2nd-covid-wave/">streamed back</a> in the hundreds of thousands.Dhana himself works at an Indian household, so was spared during Covid-19. But he knows of many Nepalis who suffered. Four of his acquaintances who lived close by lost their lives during the 2021 Delta peak.Deaths of Nepali workers in India also go largely unnoticed -- with or without Covid-19. There is no count, no compensation to families of the deceased, and no government help with repatriation as happened from the Gulf or Malaysia.“The only consolation is that here you can expect that full procedures will be followed during funerals according to Hindu rituals which you probably cannot expect elsewhere,” says Dhana. “The Nepal government should compensate families of the deceased as they are from the poorest families.”But he is quick to note the privileges of being a migrant in India versus other countries where he has lived and worked. “You don’t become undocumented in India. You are not obliged to stay with the same employer,” he says.Dhana should know: he has spent months hiding in the jungles of Johor Baru in Malaysia with 19 other Nepalis to avoid raids when he became undocumented because his employer went bankrupt.He quit his job in Saudi Arabia after three months despite having paid Rs100,000 to a recruiter. In both cases, he felt trapped as he wasn’t able to exit the countries without incurring fees, and was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/">mentally stressed.</a>After making a full circle back to India where he had spent over a decade in his early twenties before venturing to Malaysia and the Gulf, he values the freedom for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/people-to-people-at-india-nepal-border/">Nepali workers like him in India. </a>Some names have been changed.

Rohit, Amit and Dhana

There were two Bhutans on display during Narendra Modi’s visit this month. The first: a trusted partner, modernising rapidly with Indian support, inaugurating hydroelectric projects, and signing healthcare deals. The second: a nation that <a href="https://www.fmreview.org/gazmere-bishwo/#:~:text=In%201990%2D91%2C%20about%20a,are%20therefore%20not%20Bhutanese%20citizens.">ethnically cleansed 17% of its population </a>and has never been held accountable.
Modi chose to see only the <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-concludes-bhutan-visit-with-prayers-for-peace-and-prosperity">first </a>during his <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-announces-rs-4000-cr-concessional-credit-line-to-fund-energy-projects-in-bhutan/articleshow/125253915.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&amp;utm_medium=text&amp;utm_campaign=cppst">11-12 November visit</a>, granting $450 million in credit, offering birthday tributes to Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuk, and inaugurating another hydropower project.
New Delhi has opted for strategic silence on Bhutan’s systematic persecution of the Lhotshampas in the 1990s. The displaced remain scattered across the world and in refugee camps in Nepal, their property seized, their citizenship revoked.&nbsp;
Now, on that same contested land Bhutan is building the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Gelephu Mindful City (GMC)</a>, a megaproject intended to <a href="https://kuenselonline.com/news/pm-modi-announces-inr-40-billion-credit-line-new-rail-links-and-land-for-bhutanese-temple-in-varanasi">connect directly to Indian infrastructure</a>. The victims are gone, and democratic India’s values remain conspicuously absent.&nbsp;
With no Lhotshampas left to challenge the official narrative and India unwilling to raise it, Bhutan continues to suppress dissent with impunity.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, social media influencer Raghu Pati Subedi was arrested on the Assam side of Gelephu after returning from a visit to relatives in India. His family members reportedly came under intense pressure, including threats of arrest, accusing them of hiding his whereabouts. After his arrest, he was transported to Thimphu and imprisoned.
This was not an isolated incident. It is part of systemic repression that first gained international attention in the 1990s, when over 100,000 Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa were systematically stripped of their citizenship and forcibly exiled. This mass expulsion, which human rights organisations have characterised as ethnic cleansing, created a decades-long refugee crisis that continues to define the regional political and human rights landscape.&nbsp;
EXODUS
The Lhotshampa crisis of the 1990s was not a spontaneous event but the culmination of years of state-led discrimination. Through a series of legislative acts, notably the 1985 Citizenship Act and the 1989 Driglam Namzha, the ‘One Nation, One People’ policy, the Bhutanese state systematically dismantled the rights of its Nepali-speaking citizens.&nbsp;
The use of the Nepali language was suppressed, the traditional dress of the ruling ethnic group was mandated, and citizenship was revoked en masse, rendering a significant portion of the population stateless in their own homeland.
The new manuscript I am editing has harrowing accounts by the authors of those atrocities. The parallels with what happened to Subedi recently are striking and troubling, showing that even after 35 years the regime has not changed its spots. The methods may have evolved, but the repression against dissidents remains disturbingly consistent.
This refugee exodus was an immense and unasked-for burden on Nepal. Despite being a country grappling with its own political instability and limited resources, Nepal accommodated them on humanitarian grounds. Nepal has consistently advocated for a durable solution centered on the refugees’ right to safe, voluntary, and dignified repatriation.
For years, it engaged in bilateral talks with Bhutan, culminating in a joint verification process. However, these efforts ultimately foundered on what Nepal described as ‘continued rigidity and non-implementation of the agreed decisions by the Bhutanese side’.
Nepal fulfilled its moral and humanitarian duty, but the international community largely failed to hold Bhutan accountable. Bhutan’s rulers deflected global attention with the masterful narrative of Gross National Happiness (GNH), while the grim reality in the refugee camps persisted.&nbsp;
Ultimately, with repatriation proving impossible, Nepal acquiesced to a third-country resettlement program led by a group of eight countries, including the United States, Canada, and Australia. From 2007 to 2016, more than 113,500 Bhutanese refugees were resettled in <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/media/nepal-factsheet">one of the largest group resettlement programmes globally</a>, though 6,365 remain in refugee camps in eastern Nepal.
While this solution provided a lifeline for thousands, it was a tragic capitulation to Bhutan’s ethnic homogenisation project. The refugees’ right to return to their homeland has been denied. It is a cautionary tale about the limits of international diplomacy in the face of state intransigence.
Bhutan’s global brand is one of its most successful exports. The <a href="https://www.gnhcentrebhutan.org/">Gross National Happiness </a>doctrine, which promotes holistic well-being over just economic growth, has captivated the Western imagination and policymakers. It offers a vision of a mindful, environmentally conscious, and peaceful Himalayan kingdom. This carefully cultivated image has historically aimed to shield Bhutan from the level of scrutiny applied to other nations with similar human rights records.
The GNH facade, however, cracks under the weight of documented evidence. The same kingdom that champions ‘happiness’ has, for decades, maintained a justice system that human rights groups allege relies on torture, coerced confessions, and draconian laws to silence opposition.
The 1992 National Security Act, with its vague definitions of ‘treasonable acts’ against the Tsa-Wa-Sum (King, Country, and People), has been a primary tool for suppressing political dissent, particularly from the Lhotshampa.
Overlooked by the international community and ignored by global powers including India, in responding robustly to the ethnic cleansing of the 1990s sent a clear message to Thimphu: such actions could be undertaken with impunity. The monarchy emerged unscathed, its reputation burnished rather than tarnished.&nbsp;
This historical impunity now echoes in the case of Raghu Pati Subedi and the <a href="https://www.cijnepal.org/new-list-of-political-prisoners-expected-to-set-off-discussion-on-bhutans-human-rights-record">continued imprisonment of dozens of political prisoners</a> of conscience. The global community’s reluctance to challenge the GNH narrative has, in effect, become a form of complicity.
The arrest and sentencing of a social media influencer demonstrates how old tactics have been adapted for the digital age. Subedi, 40, was a new kind of threat to the state-controlled narrative and he had to be made an example of.&nbsp;
As the founder and administrator of the popular Facebook page ‘The Don of Asia’, he bypassed traditional, state-influenced media to speak directly to about 78,000 followers. His content, informational and satirical videos on rural poverty, corruption, and the GMC project, was the kind of social media activism that was deemed intolerable.
Subedi was arrested in early 2025 and sentenced to 24 years in prison. The charges allegedly stemmed from Subedi’s social media criticism of the GMC, a flagship project of Nepal-born Bhutanese fifth King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck.&nbsp;
For <a href="https://thenewamericansmag.com/2024/11/18/the-kings-gelephu-mindfulness-city/#:~:text=Ganga%20Lamitare%2C%20who%20owns%20four,ancestors%20in%20building%20the%20nation.">Bhutanese refugees like Gangaram Lamitare</a>, the GMC represents a bitter irony, a development rising on their confiscated ancestral lands.&nbsp;
Gangaram, who owns four acres where the GMC’s international airport is now under construction, says: “Many people from villages fled at night in 1990, leaving everything behind to escape oppression. Now, the Bhutanese king and ministers are spreading falsehoods worldwide, calling this land vacant, which actually belongs to those forced to leave the country.”&nbsp;
There are signs that international support that has benefited Bhutan may be waning. The United Nations has become increasingly vocal and last year the <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/documents/issues/detention-wg/opinions/session101/a-hrc-wgad-60-2024-bhutan-advance-edited-ve.pdf">UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the detention of several Bhutanese political prisoners was arbitrary and illegal under international law.&nbsp;
In April 2025 from a group of six UN human rights experts raised grave concerns about the use of torture, denial of fair trials, and the ‘severe chilling effect’ of Bhutan’s legal framework on civic space. These developments owe much to the consistent advocacy of the Hague-based Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) since its formation.
However, they also reflect broader shifts in international human rights scrutiny. This places Bhutan’s key international partners, particularly the European Union, in a critical position. Bhutan enjoys lucrative benefits under the EU’s ‘Everything but Arms’ trade scheme, which grants developing countries tariff-free access to the EU market contingent on respect for human rights.&nbsp;
The EU is also a significant provider of development aid to Bhutan which provides it with substantial leverage. In April 2025, members of the <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/saskiabricmont.bsky.social/post/3lmrn5mkmrs2q">European Parliament formally called on Bhutan</a> to release all political prisoners. This action signals a growing recognition that trade and partnership cannot be divorced from human rights obligations.&nbsp;
“Bhutan’s international partners and investors, including the EU, should make it clear that they expect Bhutan to comply with its human rights obligations and release them without further delay,” says Meenakshi Ganguly, of Human Rights Watch.&nbsp;
Bhutan stands at a crossroads. Its desire for deeper global economic integration is colliding with its unresolved history of human rights abuses. The international community now has a choice: either continue being charmed by the myth of a happy shangri-la or insist that the kingdom adheres to democratic values it professes to the world.&nbsp;
Nepal’s recent Gen-Z uprising offers a lesson to Bhutan. In September, when authorities attempted to ban 26 social media, Nepali youth took to the streets and, within hours, toppled the entire pro-establishment political apparatus. Their message was clear: in an age of digital connectivity and mass mobilisation, authoritarian tactics such as detaining social media influencers are both unjust and ultimately unsustainable.
This incident echoes the prophetic warnings of Devi Bhakta Lamitare, Bhutan’s first-generation democratic leader, who died in exile in India in 2022. In his seminal 1970 book
Dankindo Bhutan, Lamitare chronicled the systematic suppression of people’s rights and envisioned a path toward liberation.
Before his death, I worked with him to update and edit this work, which the Bhutan Media Society published posthumously in 2023. In a December 2020 interview I conducted for the book on the Ganga riverbank in Haridwar, Lamitare laid out a stark three-front offensive: political mobilisation from within India to awaken resistance inside Bhutan itself, relentless pressure on New Delhi to champion democracy, and a global ‘pamphlet war’ waged by resettled Bhutanese in the West.&nbsp;
Only through such sustained action, he argues, can Bhutanese citizens win the right to choose their own rulers, a principle India, the world’s largest democracy, should be championing, not abandoning.
Binod Dhungel is the Nepal correspondent for Reporters Without Borders.
<a href="http://linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod" target="_blank">linkedin.com/in/dhungelbinod</a>, @BinodDhungel

Bhutan imprisons social media influencer

The COP30 climate summit in Brazil ended this week <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cop30-to-cop31">without tangible commitment</a> from countries to reduce fossil fuel emissions. Its impact will be felt halfway around the planet here in Mustang which is already seeing weather extremes.&nbsp; Geographically, Mustang is on the Tibetan Plateau, north of the main Himalayan chain. It is in the rainshadow, and a high altitude desert. Winter snow has failed for eight of the past ten years, unseasonal blizzards, and frequent glacial collapse leading to floods. The Kali Gandaki Corridor follows one of the deepest gorges in the world between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, the world’s seventh and tenth highest peaks. Lush pine forests cover the southern flanks of these mountains, but within a few kilometers the vegetation undergoes a dramatic change to a landscape of red, brown and grey cliffs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251129021144_c66ade5e32d20530003abba893869426d75b42d10e4725c28361d738b402721f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It gets more arid the more north you go. Snow and rain in Upper Mustang used to fall mostly in winter, but now there are cloudbursts and blizzards at other times of the year.&nbsp; In the ancient walled city of Lo Manthang, elderly men have gathered at a local tea shop to drink the salted butter tea. Some sip home-made liquor infused with medicinal herbs.&nbsp; The sun has set, the temperature plummets, and the wind howls outside. Everyone agrees it does not snow like it used to any more. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Comings and goings in Mustang</a>, Shrijan Pandey  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251129021144_ffaabf00a533984cadf160b2e56734cddb6f64d1a660401417d2982a3818f161" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The flat mud roofs are leaking because rain is now falling where there used to be snow.</figcaption> </figure>  “The weather has changed drastically over the years,” says Lopsang Tsomfel Bista, Chair of the Lo Dekhar Municipality. “It doesn’t snow in winter, and it falls when it is not supposed to.”&nbsp; Lack of snow means that in spring, the pastures where nomadic herders graze their yaks and goats do not have enough grass. Previously, winter snow on the meadows would seep slowly into the soil with the spring thaw, bringing out fresh grass shoots. &nbsp; In recent years, even if there is winter precipitation, it falls as rain. The soil is not able to soak in rain as efficiently, and torrential downpours increase the risk of soil erosion and floods.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251129021144_93ca69bec63577c5f6cbff8db809c11bce2d8fe01469d3374c20a6f20a7c93f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  “There used to be up to 1,500 mountain goats in every village, but now they have stopped keeping livestock,” says Bista. This is due to lack of grass and new lowland diseases moving up the mountains. Mustang has lost 28% of its population between the census in 2011 and 2021, and outmigration also means there are fewer people left to carry on a pastoral lifestyle.&nbsp; “Herders have asked for vet services in their communities because there are new insect-borne diseases,” says Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Winds of change sweep Mustang</a>, Jagannath Adhikari  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251129021144_902593732af83db5792128be5a3bd87c00e0c62ff894afa4c98bffde64e96d26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> <figcaption>The mud walls of monasteries and homes are crumbling because of unseasonal rainfall. </figcaption> </figure>  Mustang is flanked to the east and west by mountains that rise up to 6,000m, and glaciers on their slopes are melting fast, turning into lakes. With the rising temperature, the risk of Glacier Lakes Outburst Floods (GLOFs) has also risen.&nbsp; At the rate global average temperatures are rising, scientists say that the Himalaya will lose up to two-thirds of the remaining ice caps. When glaciers melt, it not just raises the risk from GLOFs but also affects water supply downstream.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025112903114_1a6af68965ded5f23897a623bec2e2bed0da4c6663f0af5b5bf79883f2a11c9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1022" height="767" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map NT"> </figure>  FLOODS Ringzin Sangbo Gurung in Chumjung village recalls the devastation caused by a GLOF on 8 July this year that swept away a newly inaugurated bridge. The floodplain is now strewn with boulders and sand brought down by the flood which caused damage worth Rs28 million. The flood also damaged the irrigation canals that feed riverside farms where locals grew potato, buckwheat, millet and spinach. Nyima Wangmo Gurung runs a homestay in Nyamdok village, and says: “We don’t have water when we need it. And there is too much when we don’t need it.”&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251129021144_7ae98274ea20e910311ec4431ba0aa3ecd9fe92caaed029a33c185198b33d0d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  With warming temperatures, farmers in Mustang are growing lowland vegetables which was not possible before in plastic greenhouses. The farms depended on snowmelt in spring to irrigate their fields, but there is less snow to melt in past years. “The last heavy snowfall in winter was about eight years ago, since then we have got little or no snow,” says Tashi Norbu Gurung, Chair of Lo Manthang Rural Municipality. “This affects farmers during the April planting season.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251129021144_010e09f4e9335f39c62f4d6027489c86423b3d10ddfb83558820f6a7a56a477b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  It is not just lack of snowfall that is a problem. Springs have gone dry, and some villages like Dhey have been forced to relocate because life became &nbsp;impossible without water.&nbsp; Villagers of Samjung also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-migration-is-already-happening">migrated</a> to Namashung, near a river when water sources dried up. But now the new settlements are threatened by GLOFs. Karma Gurung, who runs a lodge in Choser, remembers the big flood of 35 years ago which swept away farms and covered them with debris. There have been more frequent, but destructive floods since then in Kagbeni, Lubra and other valleys. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20251129021144_da2212bc1ad49c17d126e24bbd92d3fca18e3e6bdd58ac61df14c962deb2edcd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  MUD WALLS Because snowfall has been replaced by rain, Mustang’s traditional mud-wall architecture is now in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">danger of collapsing</a>. The homes here are closely packed, have flat roofs stacked with juniper branches for firewood. With rain in place of snow, the roofs now leak.&nbsp; Women in Thinkar village say their walls are falling apart. Some homes have collapsed, and families forced to move out. Yangchen Dolker Gurung of the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation says locals need plastic sheets, cement walls and corrugated roofs to cope with the rain.&nbsp; But this would mean that Mustang’s villages would lose their traditional architecture style.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20251129021144_59c475cdde3bee8d03ed05e9038c0cf36f1acd31e3d3596f145469e5b4404d9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The ancient 1.5m thick mud walls around Lo Manthang built 600 years ago, the king’s palace, and monasteries are also at risk. “Changes in precipitation patterns, altering the intensity, frequency, and timing of rainfall and snowfall, have damaged traditional and cultural infrastructure, particularly mud-built private and public buildings as well as religious and heritage sites,” explains Bhawani Pandey at the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation. “With the rain, and because the monuments and stupas are made from mud, they have eroded. There is leakage, and the monuments are in a dilapidated condition.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure/" target="_blank">Climate-smarter Himalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20251129021144_dfc8c93a0a8619893f0d97076d1f9cbba3818e1cc716a903ff9908dbb8939ef6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Too little snow, too much rain NT"> </figure>  The Lo Manthang Rural Municipality along with Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, are working on a Local Adaptation Plan of Action and the Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan, which the Nepal government has made mandatory for every municipality. “We took a bottom-up approach and collected data from each village, they know best the impact of climate change and what their needs are,” says Yangchen Gurung. To address the hazards of climate change, local communities and municipalities are adapting through their own resources, without waiting for outside help to improve water conservation, control soil erosion and protect from flood.&nbsp; Says Pandey, “We are returning to conserving traditional drought-resistant crop varieties, organic pest and disease control, cultivating high-value crops and fruits, and practicing sustainable pasture management through rotational grazing. We have also developed new building codes for homes that incorporate water-resistant coating for mud roofs and walls.” &nbsp; Additional Reporting by Tashi Wangyal. &nbsp;

Too little snow, too much rain

Groundwater is like a phone battery, it needs to be regularly recharged. As springs go dry across the Himalayan foothills due to over-extraction and climate change, communities in eastern Nepal are reviving traditional knowledge to replenish aquifers. The town of Dhankuta is located along the spine of a ridge and is struggling with its water supply. Unregulated pumping is one reason, and weather extremes due to climate breakdown is the other. Since water is so important for life, necessity has become the mother of invention here. More accurately, it is the mother of re-invention — since recharging ground water is a traditional practice that has been discontinued. Communities are practicing sustainable water management again by reviving recharge ponds that had fallen into disuse as well as rainwater recycling. Some of these indigenous practices have eroded over time with outmigration and modernisation. The nearby village of Khambela is dominated by the indigenous Aathpahariya Rai community and is building on its ancestral practice of rainwater harvesting with new technology developed by the group, SmartPaani.&nbsp; Households collect rainwater during four monsoon months in tanks of up to 10,000 litres for household use and irrigating &nbsp;vegetable patches in the dry season.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_b48e18e9c85ed460210d475041dce6ba5917ab31db0a16aca2c8e0f0356c9038.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251124031112_b48e18e9c85ed460210d475041dce6ba5917ab31db0a16aca2c8e0f0356c9038" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> </figure>  “The rainwater harvesting installation here uses a rapid sand filter system that allows rainwater to move rapidly through the builtin filtration unit,” says Jyotsna Lama from Kathmandu-based SmartPaani. “The clean water is stored in tanks for future use.” The initiative is supported by the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) and local municipalities. Local households contribute Rs50 a month for maintenance. “During the rainy season there is enough water in the wells and springs,” says a local farmer Sangita Rai. “But storing monsoon rain is enough to last the whole dry season.” Dhankuta town itself has a recharge pond at Sukepokhari, which itself means ‘dry pond’. &nbsp;The 24m diameter pond can hold up to 200,000 litres and lets it seep slowly to recharge the aquifer. One in four springs in &nbsp;Dhankuta have dried up, and Sukepokhari is helping revive them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_0db2a186eec5194d37492066e6d0b939569254e8feca6c6dd757d28147267b2f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251124031112_0db2a186eec5194d37492066e6d0b939569254e8feca6c6dd757d28147267b2f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Sukepokhari</figcaption> </figure>  The mountains around Dhankuta act like a sponge, absorbing water in the dry season and letting it out through springs. But water started becoming scarce when the town’s expanding population started pumping up water. Plastic waste and other pollutants contaminated the remaining water. Sukepokhari’s caretaker is Krishna Kumar Thakuri, fondly known as ‘Pani Ba’ by locals who regard him as a passionate father figure. He regularly monitors rainfall and the water level in the pond to gauge how much of it is seeping into the ground to recharge the groundwater.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112403118_b412598c4473f2bb33900bab7e2084f584e7e88c1a92f6b9c09e940e23e4ce29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025112403118_b412598c4473f2bb33900bab7e2084f584e7e88c1a92f6b9c09e940e23e4ce29" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Caretaker of Sukepokhari Krishna Kumar Thakuri fondly known as Pani Ba.</figcaption> </figure>  “We harvest rain that falls in the surrounding slopes,” explains Thakuri. “But a lot of leaves, vegetation and sediment also flows into the pond and has to be desilted every year.” The pond provides drinking water to around 150-200 households and enables irrigation to 10 households in surrounding areas. Water from the pond further flows and supports springs down the mountains.&nbsp; Off the walking trail is Dale Pokhari, another recharge pond in the scenic village of Dhojedanda. After the pond was revived two springs sprang back into life again, supplying water to six households. “There used to be multiple springs and water sources, and biodiversity was diverse, but as people started to dig up wells and drag water sources to their homes via plastic pipes, the water sources started drying up,” explains Phurba Sherpa. But now there is more water flowing out of springs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251124031112_dd71cdc337f6275b179fdab9ded358a1dcdb53c5e286d493aa2182e3f35ce32e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251124031112_dd71cdc337f6275b179fdab9ded358a1dcdb53c5e286d493aa2182e3f35ce32e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Storing rain inside mountains NT"> <figcaption>Dalepokhari</figcaption> </figure>  WATER IS LIFE Syaule-Sipting Homestay in Dhankuta has been using water sustainably after facing shortages. It has now built a bio-sand filtration system in the water tanks, so that water is safe for use by four households One of the homestays also uses a rainwater harvesting system. While the bio-sand and rainwater harvesting are used for cooking, washing and other purposes, table top filtration systems are used for drinking. Adequate safe drinking water is also helpful to revive the area’s eco-tourism potential. Safe drinking water is important so visitors are not turned off, says Anu K Lama of ICIMOD. She adds, “Health and hygiene are important for everyone. But foreigners do not have the strong immune system that locals have. Clean and adequate supply is necessary especially if we are targetting foreign guests.”

Storing rain inside mountains

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/run-sunmaya-run">Nepal’s ultra-marathoner Sunmaya Budha</a> won her fifth gold medal of 2025 at the Ultra-Trail Cape Town 100km championship in South Africa on 22 November and claimed the World Trail Majors title, marking one of the biggest achievements ever recorded by a Nepali trail runner.&nbsp;
Budha completed the 99km trail with an elevation gain of 4,676m in 12 hours 25 minutes and 55 seconds, and was nearly an hour ahead of her second-placed competitor.&nbsp;
The 27-year-old t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-trail-running-champions">rail endurance runner</a> has ran six races in 2025, and has been racking up outstanding performances across the world.&nbsp;
In September, Budha earned a silver medal at the 3rd World Mountain and Trail Running Championships, becoming the first Asian athlete to have ever finished that high in the Long Trail competition at the World Championships.&nbsp;
Additionally, Budha claimed gold medals at the Anta Hong Kong 100 in January, the Chengdu Trail 60 in March, the Ultra-Trail Mount Yun 30K in April and Annapurna Marathon 42K in June.
Budha comes from a farming family in Nepal’s remote Jumla district, and trained as an ultra marathoner on Nepal’s rugged mountain terrain.&nbsp;
"I have traveled to many countries, but the best place I can train is in my village, Jumla," Budha said following her victory last week. "I have a big team supporting me — without them, it would not be possible to be strategic and consistent. This win is for everyone who believes Nepali runners deserve a future as professional athletes."
The athlete is part of the Asia Pacific Adventure Group, led by team director Ryan S. Blair and coach Andy Dubois. She is ranked world 8th for 100km category events and 17th in the world by the International Trail Running Association (ITRA).
"As countries with strong sporting traditions celebrate their athletes as national treasures, Nepal must do the same — honouring runners not only when they win, but throughout their demanding professional careers," says Preeti Khattri, Director of Nepal Trail Series Pvt Ltd and team lead for the Nepali contingent, who manages local operations for APA's professional Nepali trail runners.&nbsp;
She added: "Athletes like Sunmaya carry the nation's identity, discipline, and resilience onto the world stage. Their presence brings immense pride to all Nepalis- which can be a big advantage for the tourism industry too."&nbsp;
SUNMAYA BUDHA - 2025 SEASON&nbsp;
1. Anta Hong Kong 100 (18 January)&nbsp;
● Distance: 102km, 4,882m elevation gain&nbsp;
● Result: 1st place (Winner)&nbsp;
● Time: 11:11:47&nbsp;
● New course record (27 minutes faster than previous record)&nbsp;
2. Chengdu Trail 60 (29 March)&nbsp;
● Distance: 58.2km, 2,650m elevation gain&nbsp;
● Result: 1st place (Winner)&nbsp;
● Time: 05:41:48&nbsp;
● Overall: 9th out of 926 runners&nbsp;
3. Ultra-Trail Mount Yun by UTMB - 30K (20 April)&nbsp;
● Distance: 29.7km, 1,751m elevation gain&nbsp;
● Result: 1st place (Winner)&nbsp;
● Time: 03:10:12&nbsp;
● Overall: 3rd out of 1,144 runners&nbsp;
4. Annapurna Marathon 42K (3 June)&nbsp;
● Distance: 42 km&nbsp;
● Result: 1st place (Winner)&nbsp;
5. World Mountain and Trail Running Championships - Long Trail (27 September)&nbsp;
● Location: Canfranc-Pirineos, Spain&nbsp;
● Distance: 82 km, 5,413m elevation gain&nbsp;
● Result: 2nd place (Silver Medal)&nbsp;
● Time: 10:23:03&nbsp;
● Winner: Katie Schide (USA) - 9:57:59&nbsp;
6. Ultra-Trail Cape Town 100k (22 November)&nbsp;
● Distance: 99km, 4,676m elevation gain
● Result: 1st place (Winner) - World Trail Majors Champion&nbsp;
● Time: 12:25:55&nbsp;
● Nearly one hour ahead of 2nd place

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Nepali ultra-marathoner claims World Trail Majors title