<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/637237999c7e80680e0c733cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="533"/><figcaption>Sangam and Laxmi Mahato, sisters of Dilip Mahato, who was killed by the sand mafia three years ago for protesting their mining operation. Photos: ANITA BHETWAL</figcaption></figure>Sangam and Laxmi Mahato were very happy that their only brother, 24-year-old Om Prakash (Dilip) Mahato, was coming home after graduating from college in India.The sisters got to spend barely two weeks with Dilip before he was murdered by contractors extracting sand from the Aurahi River by the village. They crushed him beneath a tipper truck.Dilip had been protesting illegal sand mining and actively organising the local community to conserve the fragile Chure Hills. More than two years after his death, after being threatened by their brother’s killers, the sisters have brought their struggle for justice to Kathmandu.Their father Ram Jiwan Mahato has also come to Kathmandu with his daughters and said in a resigned voice: "Our life isn't the same anymore. I want to see the criminals pay for their crime while I am still alive. We had to come to Kathmandu to make our voice heard.”Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/">Drawing a line in the sand</a>, Bhrikuti Rai<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/6372379b9c7e80680e0c733djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="702" height="837"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the last three years, the case against the seven perpetrators has been postponed more than ten times by the courts, while the contractors are still gouging out sand from the Aurahi. Acting on a case filed by one of the accused, the Dhanusa District Court has also issued an interim order forbidding the family from obstructing the sand mining operations.But Sangam, 24, and Laxmi, 22,  are not giving up without a fight. They have vowed to carry on Dilip’s struggle, to bring his murderers to justice, and to end the destructive extraction from their river.“Our brother walked half the way,” Sangam said resolutely. “We will complete the rest.”A month and a half after Dilip’s murder, the community in Shreepur village decided to stop sand mining. Barely two days later, dozens of tipper trucks arrived at night to transport sand.As per Nepal’s Riverine Material Management Procedure 2019, the use of heavy equipment in sand mining of river beds is banned to limit the destruction.When Sangam called the police, elected officials passed the buck to the local municipality. The local contractor Bechan Sharma and officers from the Dhalkebar Police Station reached the scene. But instead of apprehending the contractor, police inspector Tej Bahadur Karki threatened the sisters. The family continues to receive threats and is under immense pressure to withdraw the murder complaint. They are constantly followed wherever they go, while others have tried to bribe the family. None of this has stopped Dilip’s family from trying to prevent illegal sand mining from their neighbourhood.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/need-and-greed/">Need and greed</a>, EditorialBefore she travelled to Kathmandu with her sister, Laxmi took this reporter to the banks of the Aurahi. Two excavators and four tractors were busy extracting sand from the river against the 2019 guidelines.When we called the Dhalkebar police that there was illegal sand extraction going on in the river bed, the person at the other end of the line dismissed it saying, “Even if we come, they will have left by the time we get there.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/6372379e9c7e80680e0c733ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="462"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The police did not show up for the next hour, but within minutes of our call, the trucks and the bulldozers were gone.Since Dilip’s murder, the contractors have taken away sand from a 10 km stretch of the river. But every time they call the police, they immediately get threats from the sand mafia.Last year, when Dilip’s cousin Aditya asked the proprietor of the Churimai Crusher Industry Binod Mahato to stop his illegal activity, goons came to his house and threatened to kill him.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hiding-their-head-in-the-sand/">Hiding their head in the sand</a>, Ramu Sapkota“After that, my mother did not let me stay at home,” recalled Aditya, who stayed away for six months.Despite the risk, Ram Jiwan is proud of his daughters. “I lost one son, and my daughters continuously receive threats, but there is no fear in our blood.”Before coming to Kathmandu, Sangam and Laxmi collected data on the activities of sand and boulder miners and quarry owners in the region. Even if the authorities don’t take any action against the perpetrators, they want the community to be aware of the issues. “If we teach the students about the importance of conserving the Chure, some of them may continue the fight,” said Sangam.But Laxmi believes that, ultimately, change has to come from the central, provincial and local governments, with strict implementation of environmental protection policies.When not fighting for the environment, or running around the courts, Sangam gives tuition classes to school children and Laxmi teaches at Janata Secondary School in Mithila Municipality. They earn barely enough to pay off the Rs3.5 million that the family owes money lenders.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/crushers-of-justice/">Crushers of justice</a>, EditorialSangam also heads the Om Prakash Mahato (Dilip) Environment Conservation Academy, an NGO established two years ago, and Laxmi keeps track of the ongoing court case.The Dilip Academy has built a garden area, Dilip Chure Batika, after receiving Rs1.5million from the President Chure Tarai-Madhes Conservation Development Board. The family has also invested Rs2 million from the central government, and Rs500,000 from the Madhes government after Dilip’s death in the institution.But what the sisters really want is justice, and the termination of the sand mining contracts. In a community which marries off daughters after Grade 10, it was Dilip who convinced their parents to let his sisters go to college.With his support, the two sisters were preparing for the civil service exams when he was killed. Both sisters now want to go to university to study Environment Science.Said Sangam: “If our brother were alive, the situation of not only our family but also the environment would have been better. We want to contribute however we can to fulfil his dreams.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/drowning-in-sorrow/">Drowning in sorrow</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel

Anita Bhetwal

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

Sisters carry on slain brother’s fight

<figure><img width="800" height="423" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12769c7e80680e0a98d7jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Children who have lost their lives in the pits and ditches left by contractors: (clockwise) Riya Bishwakarma, Sushil Layomagar, Aditya Layomagar, Jasmine Khatun, Suman Mahato, Anil Mahato, Karuna Bishwakarma, and Samma Khatun. All Photos: MUKESH POKHREL/HIMAL</figcaption></figure>Despite protests, defiant sand mining and quarry contractors have continued to leave large abandoned pits along Nepal’s rivers in which children drown by the dozens every year. There is no exact count of how many of the children who drown every monsoon lose their lives in the pits and ditches left by sand mining contractors because police only record these deaths as generalised '<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/death-by-drowning-on-the-rise/">deaths by drowning</a>’.In Dhanusa district alone, 206 children have drowned in the past two years – most of them were under 15 years and died while swimming in these water-filled sand mining pits.  Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Drawing a line in sand</a>, Bhrikuti Rai <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12789c7e80680e0a98d8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Sushil Layomagar, 12, of Birendra Bazar could not return to school after holidays in July 2019 because of heavy rains. He was sent out in the afternoon to graze goats, but fell into a 50m deep pit dug by a sand mining contractor, and drowned together with a friend.This was a doubly severe blow to his mother, Chhalimaya, whose husband Hari Bahadur had died in Saudi Arabia earlier that year. The contractor had extracted sand and gravel to build the Bharatpur-Srirampur road, but left the gaping hole that filled with water after the rains.There was a strong protest against the contractor. "We told them to stop digging, the children will fall into the ditch,” says Susil’s grandmother Madhumaya Layomagar. “But they shouted at us, saying that they owned the land and could do with it as they pleased."In the adjoining Sarlahi district the same year, Samma Khatun, 6, and Jasmine Khatun, 11, of Sarlahi drowned in a pit dug by a brick kiln. The two girls left home to play at noon, but when they did not return for two hours the parents started a frantic search. Jasmine's grandmother Jahira Khatun recalls, "They used to go to pick grapes, so we went to look over there. A while later, the brick kiln workers saw the children in the water and called us. They had already stopped breathing.”  <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d127c9c7e80680e0a98d9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is not just in the Tarai that children are drowning in abandoned sand pits. In Nuwakot, 12-year-old Binita Balami fell into a ditch left by illegal sand miners. Laxmi Tamang, 35, jumped into the pond to save her but also drowned. Last year, another 12-year-old boy drowned in similar circumstances by Nuwakot’s Likhu River. There have been many localised protests against contractors and calls for a ban on their activities, but both licensed and illegal businesses have local political patronage and have continued unabated. The rampant sand mining does not just pose a danger to children drowning, but also threatens bridges and other infrastructure.Residents of Naktjij in Dhanusa have repeatedly complained to the municipality office against illegal gravel extraction along the Aurahi River, which has led to many deaths of children. The practice continues. It was after protests against illegal sand mining on Aurahi River that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dilip Mahato</a> was beaten and then run over and killed by a tipper truck near his home in Sripur in January 2020. Mahato was a college student in India, and had been outraged by the dangerous pits that the contractors left near his home.  <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d127f9c7e80680e0a98dajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/trickledown-corruption,4176">Trickledown corruption</a>, Editorial<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184">Bulldozing democracy</a>, Om Astha RaiFollowing his murder, locals formed a struggle committee and waged a losing battle against the contractors. Dilip's father, Ramjivan Mahato, says the police sided with the owners of the Churiyamai Sand Processing Centre. The government’s rule on sand excavation prohibits sand and gravel mining within 2km of towns, and along rivers with a 1km radius of highways and bridges. The regulation requires contractors to level out ditches after mining so it does not collect water. The rules are blatantly ignored. Neither the national nor provincial governments have any data on how much sand, gravel and boulders are extracted from Nepal’s rivers and streams every year, but the Chure Tarai Madhes Conservation Committee estimates that more than 30 million cubic metres of riverine resources are collected annually nationwide. Only 20 out of 100 municipalities along the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/crushing-tale-of-Chure" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Chure Range</a> which are extracting sand and gravel actually had licenses, according to Prem Nath Poudel, a geologist at the Committee. He adds, "There has been far more excavation than we have allowed. Even within the 20 municipalities that have the approval.”The government is also seeing very little revenue in relation to the amount of excavation being done. The municipalities generally set a minimum price of Rs211 per cubic metre for the sand and gravel when inviting bids, which means the revenue for 30 million cubic metres should be Rs6.33 billion. “We are tired,” says Ramjivan. “When a child drowns and we lodge a complaint, excavation work stops for a day or two. But the digging soon resumes.”  <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12829c7e80680e0a98dbjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But according to the National Natural Resources and Finance Commission, the government collected only Rs4.62 billion in revenue from sand and gravel contractors in the current fiscal year despite one-third of municipalities across the country having signed contracts for excavation. It is clear that most of the mining is illegal, or are licensed in exchange for kickbacks.The business is being driven by a surge in construction across the country, which has raised the demand for building material. The trade is so lucrative that political party leaders, the local administration and police officials are all in on it. In the 2017 local level elections, 68 among the 616 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">elected persons</a> from 137 municipalities of Province 2 had affiliations with excavation contractors. Dev Prakash Tripathi is a journalist, who after seeing rampant illegal sand mining in his native Malekhu has become an activist with the 'Save Trisuli Campaign' in Dhading district. He says, “Leaders and people's representatives of all political parties have invested in the sand and gravel trade, which means their businesses are above the law.” Some big names linked to sand and quarry contractors are Krishna Lal Shrestha, chairman of Galchi Municipality of Dhading, Rajendra Pandey, leader of CPN (Unified Socialist), Bhumi Tripathi, and Salikram Jamarkattel, leader of CPN-Maoist Centre. Bishwa Aryal and Prabhat Kiran Subedi of the Nepali Congress have also been found directly or indirectly involved. A local government chief in Mahottari district, who did not want to be named, admitted that he would not be able to cover his election expenses unless he supported sand extraction. He says matter-of-factly, “I can’t sell my house to pay for the election. What’s wrong with selling sand and pebbles that are washed down by the rivers?” Such criminal callousness angers families like the Layomagars and Khatuns who have lost their children to drowning on sand pits, and to Ramjivan Mahato whose activist son was killed by lawless contractors in cahoots with local politicians.Here in Dhanusa, the excavators and tipper trucks of the Churiyamai Sand Processing Centre are back on the banks of the Aurahi River, digging up sand and gravel. The company is still threatening the Mahato family. Says Ramjivan: “They say we already killed one of your children, don’t make us kill another one.”Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/126355">original article</a> by Aryan Sitaula.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/">Kathmandu creeps up surrounding mountains</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel

Drowning in sorrow

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecb49c7e80680e09ad7ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="419"/><figcaption>Dev Narayan Mandal, pictured here with a tree sapling. All Photos: DEV NARAYAN MANDAL</figcaption></figure>What started out as a wildlife conservation initiative in the Tarai has repurposed itself during Nepal’s wildfire and pandemic crises, setting an example for other communities on ways to bounce back.While most development projects in Nepal ground to a halt during the lockdown, the Dhanushadham Protected Forest (DPF) generates employment for the most under-served groups by providing work instead of relief. With catalytic help, it has moved beyond just saving trees to upgrading health services, local schools, and creating jobs.Just as in last year’s lockdown, the DPF is mobilising the local community in Dhanusha during the second wave to pit, irrigate and prepare 32 hectares of the local Bhatighari forest for planting saplings before the monsoon. In the process, families get income at a time when many have lost their jobs during the lockdown.The District Forest Office provided saplings of 22 native species, and the community offered jobs to the Dom, Dalit and Musahar families. As in last year’s crisis, nearly 30,000 people are expected to benefit from temporary employment in preparing degraded land for afforestation.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEIcFAvIrj8“The marginalised castes generally lack permanent homes and proof of citizenship, so they are  deprived of government relief which is based on voter registration lists,” explains activist Dev Narayan Mandal of the Mithila Wildlife Trust in Dhanusha District who leads the program. “Our reforestation program aims to help them with income during the crisis.”During the wildfire season in March-April, locals mobilised themselves in emergency fire-fighting, dousing the flames to protect the 360 hectares of the DPF. Mandal’s long-term hope after the pandemic is to turn the conservation area into an eco-tourism destination for some of the thousands of pilgrims who throng to Janakpur, and provide sustainable income for the families living on the margins.Since the forests were restored, many of the migratory species of birds like Siberian white cranes have returned, as have wild elephants, sloth bears, hyenas, wild dogs, blue bulls, tortoises, snakes, spotted leopards.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecb79c7e80680e09ad7fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="365"><figcaption>Ferruginous ducks spotted at Dhanushadham Protected Forest. Photo Credits: GANESH SAH/ MITHILA WILDLIFE TRUST</figcaption></figure>Mandal has a post-graduate degree in Environment and Sustainable Development and returned to Nepal in 2012 after working for ten years in Delhi, and was shocked to see that the dense hardwood forests along the Chure foothills that he remembered from his childhood were all gone. With it, the wildlife had disappeared, there was water scarcity and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1620876514357000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFzF7u4Tuohw-Kemt1dCqBI8MEQjA">other environmental problems</a>.Mandal set up the Mithila Wildlife Trust and adopted the Dhanushadham forest to prove that protecting nature can also uplift the socio-economic status of communities suffering exclusion due to caste, and empower them with self-sufficiency and dignity.Mandal used his reputation as Nepal’s first snake rescuer to garner attention in the media, raise money through interaction programs for this plans to protect Dhanushadham not just to restore nature but to help communities traditionally neglected by society.“When I returned from India, the forest was so thin I could see through the trees to the other side,” Mandal recalls. “There was encroachment from north and south, illegal logging, wildlife poaching, overgrazing.”Mandal was able to convince local communities about the long-term benefits of conservation, and they excitedly rallied behind his Mithila Wildlife Trust, helping DPF become free from illegal felling and open grazing. The Trust set up a micro-finance scheme to support families who had till then relied on timber poaching.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecba9c7e80680e09ad80jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360">“In over seven years we have not even had a single branch cut,” says Mandal proudly. “All this was done hundred percent by the locals, who were not paid anything. While timber smuggling benefitted only 3% of the local population, sustainable development rewards everyone equally. This got the locals on board.”However, the pandemic threw the eco-tourism prospects in doubt, and local communities needed immediate help to cope with job losses. Mandal raised money from the UK-based Gemma and Chris McGough Charitable Foundation and The Pipal Tree non-profit for a Covid Disaster and Food Relief Challenge to restore another 32 hectares of forests starting June and provide income for those affected by the Covid-19 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/thick-haze-adds-to-nepal-covid-19-woes/">second wave.</a>The Department of Forestry chipped in with 29,000 saplings, and with help from the Community Forest User Group (CFUG), the results were so encouraging that the McGough Foundation pledged more money to protect another 12 hectares of forest. Locals are paid for scrub clearance, pitting, planting and irrigating saplings. And the same communities that sprang into action when<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/while-the-forests-are-burning/"> forest fires</a> swept through the Chure in early April, and they saved the recently reforested areas.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecbd9c7e80680e09ad81jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption>Afforestation has employed women from marginalized groups throughout the Covid fallout.</figcaption></figure>The Mithila Wildlife Trust has come a long way, and has moved far beyond protecting wildlife to help with the education of the local Muslim and Dalit communities. The CFUG Chair is now also heading the local school management community to upgrade classrooms to keep in step with remote learning until schools reopen again.The success of the Dhanushadham Protected Forest cannot just be measured in money, the regenerated area now serves as an important wildlife corridor between the Tarai, the Chure foothills and beyond. Species displaced by human-animal conflict, like wild elephants, can now return to their original habitats.Mandal says it gives him a sense of fulfilment to see how just the act of saving trees has had such a wide ripple effect on society. He says, “As the communities become more self-reliant and educated, they are more empowered, and the child marriage rate, school dropout rate, alcoholism, domestic violence, have all fallen sharply.”

Empowering Nepalis during Covid-19 crisis

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84929c7e80680e0677a1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="419"/><figcaption>Dev Narayan Mandal, pictured here with a tree sapling. All Photos: DEV NARAYAN MANDAL</figcaption></figure>What started out as a wildlife conservation initiative in the Tarai has repurposed itself during Nepal’s wildfire and pandemic crises, setting an example for other communities on ways to bounce back.While most development projects in Nepal ground to a halt during the lockdown, the Dhanushadham Protected Forest (DPF) generates employment for the most under-served groups by providing work instead of relief. With catalytic help, it has moved beyond just saving trees to upgrading health services, local schools, and creating jobs.Just as in last year’s lockdown, the DPF is mobilising the local community in Dhanusha during the second wave to pit, irrigate and prepare 32 hectares of the local Bhatighari forest for planting saplings before the monsoon. In the process, families get income at a time when many have lost their jobs during the lockdown.The District Forest Office provided saplings of 22 native species, and the community offered jobs to the Dom, Dalit and Musahar families. As in last year’s crisis, nearly 30,000 people are expected to benefit from temporary employment in preparing degraded land for afforestation.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEIcFAvIrj8“The marginalised castes generally lack permanent homes and proof of citizenship, so they are  deprived of government relief which is based on voter registration lists,” explains activist Dev Narayan Mandal of the Mithila Wildlife Trust in Dhanusha District who leads the program. “Our reforestation program aims to help them with income during the crisis.”During the wildfire season in March-April, locals mobilised themselves in emergency fire-fighting, dousing the flames to protect the 360 hectares of the DPF. Mandal’s long-term hope after the pandemic is to turn the conservation area into an eco-tourism destination for some of the thousands of pilgrims who throng to Janakpur, and provide sustainable income for the families living on the margins.Since the forests were restored, many of the migratory species of birds like Siberian white cranes have returned, as have wild elephants, sloth bears, hyenas, wild dogs, blue bulls, tortoises, snakes, spotted leopards.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84959c7e80680e0677a2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="365"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Mandal has a post-graduate degree in Environment and Sustainable Development and returned to Nepal in 2012 after working for ten years in Delhi, and was shocked to see that the dense hardwood forests along the Chure foothills that he remembered from his childhood were all gone. With it, the wildlife had disappeared, there was water scarcity and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1620876514357000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFzF7u4Tuohw-Kemt1dCqBI8MEQjA">other environmental problems</a>.Mandal set up the Mithila Wildlife Trust and adopted the Dhanushadham forest to prove that protecting nature can also uplift the socio-economic status of communities suffering exclusion due to caste, and empower them with self-sufficiency and dignity.Mandal used his reputation as Nepal’s first snake rescuer to garner attention in the media, raise money through interaction programs for this plans to protect Dhanushadham not just to restore nature but to help communities traditionally neglected by society.“When I returned from India, the forest was so thin I could see through the trees to the other side,” Mandal recalls. “There was encroachment from north and south, illegal logging, wildlife poaching, overgrazing.”Mandal was able to convince local communities about the long-term benefits of conservation, and they excitedly rallied behind his Mithila Wildlife Trust, helping DPF become free from illegal felling and open grazing. The Trust set up a micro-finance scheme to support families who had till then relied on timber poaching.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84989c7e80680e0677a3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360">“In over seven years we have not even had a single branch cut,” says Mandal proudly. “All this was done hundred percent by the locals, who were not paid anything. While timber smuggling benefitted only 3% of the local population, sustainable development rewards everyone equally. This got the locals on board.”However, the pandemic threw the eco-tourism prospects in doubt, and local communities needed immediate help to cope with job losses. Mandal raised money from the UK-based Gemma and Chris McGough Charitable Foundation and The Pipal Tree non-profit for a Covid Disaster and Food Relief Challenge to restore another 32 hectares of forests starting June and provide income for those affected by the Covid-19 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/thick-haze-adds-to-nepal-covid-19-woes/">second wave.</a>The Department of Forestry chipped in with 29,000 saplings, and with help from the Community Forest User Group (CFUG), the results were so encouraging that the McGough Foundation pledged more money to protect another 12 hectares of forest. Locals are paid for scrub clearance, pitting, planting and irrigating saplings. And the same communities that sprang into action when<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/while-the-forests-are-burning/"> forest fires</a> swept through the Chure in early April, and they saved the recently reforested areas.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b849c9c7e80680e0677a4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Mithila Wildlife Trust has come a long way, and has moved far beyond protecting wildlife to help with the education of the local Muslim and Dalit communities. The CFUG Chair is now also heading the local school management community to upgrade classrooms to keep in step with remote learning until schools reopen again.The success of the Dhanushadham Protected Forest cannot just be measured in money, the regenerated area now serves as an important wildlife corridor between the Tarai, the Chure foothills and beyond. Species displaced by human-animal conflict, like wild elephants, can now return to their original habitats.Mandal says it gives him a sense of fulfilment to see how just the act of saving trees has had such a wide ripple effect on society. He says, “As the communities become more self-reliant and educated, they are more empowered, and the child marriage rate, school dropout rate, alcoholism, domestic violence, have all fallen sharply.”

<figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb49d9c7e80680e07bbb1jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhikhari Yadav carries his father around his village in Dhanusha on a bicycle before leaving for Dubai. Photo: SHREEJANA SHRESTHA/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVES</figcaption></figure>As you might expect, the remittance village is punctuated by smooth, concrete houses rising among their weary-looking brick, mud and bamboo neighbours, a settlement where shiny motorcycles whine back and forth. But in the remittance village you will also find residents who cannot even afford the price of a flight ticket to join the growing queue of fellow villagers trooping overseas to earn. It is also a place where going to work abroad actually drives some households into poverty instead of lifting them out of it. This is why author Ramesh Sunam’s book, <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Transnational-Labour-Migration-Livelihoods-and-Agrarian-Change-in-Nepal/Sunam/p/book/9780367471569" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.routledge.com/Transnational-Labour-Migration-Livelihoods-and-Agrarian-Change-in-Nepal/Sunam/p/book/9780367471569&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1600234530467000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH93FOWM9UJvFNaTuYLnJA94TFAhg">Transnational Labour Migration, Livelihoods and Agrarian Change in Nepal: The Remittance Village</a> is so valuable. It precisely details the economic, sociocultural and even political forces that shape the livelihoods of rural people, among which is transnational labour migration (TLM) whose earnings are sent home as remittances. That cash has largely propped up Nepal’s economy in recent decades, at one point making up about one-third of GDP. Today it is about 25% and at any given time, 1 in 5 working age Nepalis is overseas for work. A recent World Bank report ranked Nepal as the largest remittance-receiving country in South Asia and the fifth largest in the world as a share of GDP.   Pre-Covid, the International Labour Organisation (ILO) estimated that 164 million people were officially working outside their home countries although, notes Sunam, the actual figures would be much higher with the inclusion of ‘undocumented’ migrants. A little over 40% of those migrant workers were women. Spotlighting the people and livelihoods of Panchayan village of Sunsari District in Province 2, situated between Dharan and Itahari, The Remittance Village is based on field work that Sunam did between January 2012 and February 2013. An academic endeavour, the book can be challenging for non-specialists. But Sunam, an assistant professor at the Waseda Institute for Advanced Study, at Waseda University in Tokyo, clearly and consistently signposts and summarises the contents of each chapter of this compact read. The insights generated will be useful for anyone who wants to better understand one of the key economic drivers and policy issues of today’s Nepal, particularly with labour migration threatened by the effects of the Covid-19 pandemic. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/india-and-nepal-in-covid-19-crisis-together/">Nepal and India in COVID-19 crisis together</a>, David Seddon Sunam concludes that various factors — including of course crossborder migration — are weakening the bonds between villagers and the land, but that the same cannot be said for the poorest rural residents, for whom working the fields remains a key step in the climb out of poverty. He writes: ‘TLM does offer a pathway out of poverty: over two-thirds of migrant households changed their status from being poor to non-poor in this way. It is, however, important to highlight that these households became successful through a diversification strategy by combining migration with other farm and non-farm pursuits.’ Sunam tells the story of Aman Chaudhari, who spent four years working in a garment factory in Dubai to try and better the lot of his family. Meanwhile, his wife Mena continued sharecropping in farmers’ fields in Panchayan, also working as a wage labourer on villagers’ farms. After Aman returned, they built a house on a small plot of land bought with his remittances, sent their children to a private school, and vowed that Aman would not migrate again to work. On the other hand, the poorest of Panchayan’s people, who lack the clout to even get loans from the local money-lender, struggle to pull themselves up. Often landless and burdened by illiteracy and low caste status, they are unable to finance the visa, ticket and administrative requirements to undertake TLM so they remain at home, just scraping by. In The Remittance Village, Sunam takes nothing at face value, ‘It’s not that simple’ could have been the subtitle of this book. For example, it might seem obvious that when villagers migrate for work they open up space for poorer residents left behind to take over tilling the land. But, Sunam notes, the overall decline in workers because of TLM means that some land owners who are unwilling to pay the higher wages called for by the shrinking labour supply choose to stop working their land altogether, actually resulting in fewer opportunities overall for the poorest residents to earn. Even for migrants themselves, the experience can be negative, with lasting implications, Sunam writes. ‘Migration has not just reduced poverty or helped poor households prevent their further impoverishment. It has also exacerbated and (re)produced poverty.’ He tells the story of Ajit Magar, who migrated to the United Arab Emirates in 2010 dreaming to save enough to build a house to replace the family’s hut, and to send his daughter to private school. Six months after Magar arrived, his company stopped working and he had to return to Panchayan, burdened by debt. ‘At the moment I do not have money to buy a warm blanket to beat this cold winter,’ he told Sunam. ‘I cannot imagine building a new house. Lenders visit me almost every week forcing me to clear their loans soon. I had never faced such a difficult situation in the past.’ <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/why-nepal-is-stuck/">Why Nepal is stuck</a>, Kunda DixitJust as the causes of rural poverty are complex, so must the solutions be. Here is where I would have appreciated more fleshed-out ideas from Sunam, who obviously cares deeply about the livelihoods of the rural poor. His suggestions include:-  A policy ‘to address the needs of poor households who cannot make their way out of poverty through migration or non-farm employment’- Preventing the conversion of farmland for speculative, non-agricultural purposes, a process that leaves Dalits and the landless without access to and control over land as well as challengedto produce food for their own consumption- To provide access to land and other resources,‘distributing unused public land and barren forest land (forest land in law but with no trees) to the current occupants, if they are landless, through a community-based land-titling programme.’Yet, having described so meticulously how crossborder migration is not itself a solution to rural poverty but just one of many factors that intersect to shape the lives of residents of the remittance village, it is understandable that the task of further articulating and designing those solutions should be left to another researcher. <img width="640" height="988" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb49f9c7e80680e07bbb2jpeg.jpg" alt="">Transnational Labour Migration, Livelihoods and Agrarian Change in Nepal: The Remittance Villageby Ramesh SunamRoutledge, 2020140 pages£120 (hardback) £33.29 (e-book)ISBN 9780367471569

dhanusha

Sisters carry on slain brother’s fight

Drowning in sorrow

Empowering Nepalis during Covid-19 crisis

Empowering Nepalis during Covid-19 crisis

Nepal’s remittance villages