This is the 67th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. <h2>Alpana Adhikari, UK</h2> Back in Nepal, I had worked as a nurse for a decade, but I had my heart set to go overseas. My reason for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">wanting to migrate</a>, however, was a bit different as it was for my son. He has a disability, and considering his situation from multiple perspectives—including <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/it-s-all-in-the-mind">societal attitudes</a>, the preparedness of schools, and the availability of facilities for individuals with his condition—Nepal did not feel safe for my baby.&nbsp; I had to migrate, no matter what, for his sake. The facilities here in the UK for children with his condition are significantly better, and I am glad he and my husband will join me in a few months.&nbsp; I was applying via private routes like everyone else when the Government to Government pilot program between Britain and Nepal was announced. Even though the initial program targeted 100 nurses, only 40 of us were able to meet the criteria.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_46f6a3c05fd2d9bdac06a9a478f49079c2c69c783fcf0cc58b75da6128319745.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250511160536_46f6a3c05fd2d9bdac06a9a478f49079c2c69c783fcf0cc58b75da6128319745" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari started working as a nurse in a hospital in the UK in March.</figcaption> </figure>  I made it to the UK &nbsp;in February 2024 without paying a single paisa to any broker. The G2G scheme was unique as we were treated with dignity and valued for our skills: they covered costs for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/free-visa-free-ticket-policy-in-limbo">ticket and visa</a>, reimbursed us for exams we had taken and costs involved in the preparation and testing of the Objective Structured Clinical Examination were also covered.&nbsp; I started work in March last year, and currently am based in the respiratory ward of a hospital. I am enjoying my work a lot. In one year, I have received 26 WOW nominations which are notes of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-healer-of-far-western-nepal"> appreciation from patients </a>we have served. ‘Alpana is one of the kindest nurses I have seen. Awesome and talented … always smiling, never appears tired and helps everyone,’ one patient testimonial said. Another: ‘You can see clearly that she cares about her patients…She was cool amidst great stress and ALWAYS with a smile which gave me confidence.’ I am also the International Educated Nurses Advocate which means I can raise issues with management about issues facing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepali-nurses-now-britain-bound">international nurses</a> here.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_87b959c7550bbd1272ebf840d9f24735db008307ad825e4aa15e66c1662a7fd4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250511160536_87b959c7550bbd1272ebf840d9f24735db008307ad825e4aa15e66c1662a7fd4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1590" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>One reason Alpana Adhikari migrated to the UK was so there would be better facilities for her son, who has a disability. </figcaption> </figure>  Recruitment from NHS linked hospitals is free but when we <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/safer-migration-for-women">migrate through private routes</a>, agencies either charge upfront costs or in some cases, there is wage deduction once the nurses start earning.&nbsp; I have met Nepalis who have paid up to Rs 1 million for the same job. These costs can go even as high as Rs3 million for work in caregiving or nursing homes. I am lucky not to have to pay anyone for my posting.&nbsp; But beyond costs, I think there is also a reputational advantage of coming through the government selection process at the hospital. Such programs need to be expanded more because <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-s-nurse-flight">nurses are migrating </a>anyway and it would save people a lot of unnecessary costs and hassles. I will always be protective about Nepal and am grateful for the experience I gained, but it is true that nurses lack dignity in the workplace back home. Nursing is laborious work and completing the education takes a fortune but the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nursing-grievances-against-the-state">pay for nurses in Nepal</a>, other than at a handful of hospitals, is unfairly low.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160540_2a483361070e6e65413cf3bcf3be7af0581044f85c3e6da25a66dc87042af9d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250511160540_2a483361070e6e65413cf3bcf3be7af0581044f85c3e6da25a66dc87042af9d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari while working as a nurse in Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  It naturally makes nurses want to migrate. People often ask me what the difference in the UK and Nepal is. Work is similar but in terms of technology, there is less paperwork here as everything is digitised. Treatment is also more nurse-led and we have more say while making recommendations about medicine and discharging decisions which can be empowering. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-nurses-gone-and-going-to-the-uk">Nepali nurses gone and going to the UK</a> I am not sure what it is about nursing but I am always in high spirits and energetic about showing up to work every day. To be a good nurse, you have to have the passion for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/step-by-step-for-rural-health-care-in-nepal">patient care</a>.&nbsp; Sometimes people tell me it is because my family has not yet joined me which has freed up my time to singularly focus on work, but I do not believe that is true. Back home, too, I used to be as passionate about my job.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160540_47851c2c850c936b7bfb23da0f0e8a07620ea213ad929c229b6cca8711adc5d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250511160540_47851c2c850c936b7bfb23da0f0e8a07620ea213ad929c229b6cca8711adc5d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Alpana Adhikari (left) during an International Nurses Day rally in Kathmandu.</figcaption> </figure>  What fuels my passion here is the appreciation we get. It is not just about the income. Sometimes after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/you-must-be-having-so-much-fun-there?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR0OsTusz4rvYDQLvB0bnwhlDvkS3zCQ-UvuoO5manWHC0LGI2c3XY7e6ZY_aem_hR-tZOp4xg1mINPJvwD7Nw">long hours at work</a> when it has been a particularly busy day, a phone message from my manager and colleagues appreciating me for a job well done can go a long way.&nbsp; Likewise, the WOW recommendations from my patients have boosted my confidence. One of my elderly patients who had a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/stigma-and-silence-mental-health-nepal,3486">mental illness </a>and I bonded, and she felt comfortable enough to open up with me. She would then refer to me as her friend with everyone.&nbsp; It is little things like this that can make a big difference. Perhaps that is why my flat mate and colleagues often question why I don’t look tired even after a long shift. <h2>Binu Gurung, Japan</h2> It has been five-and-half years since I came to Japan under the Specified Skilled Workers (SSW) visa in the nursing category. I had previously come to Japan as a language student as well.&nbsp; I grew up in Ghandruk and had just started my Bachelor’s course when a friend suggested we try<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/nepalis-in-japan"> to go to Japan </a>so I just followed the trend and stayed here for three years as a student.&nbsp; Two years after returning to Nepal, I re-migrated to Japan under the SSW scheme which was at its early stages and only open to nursing initially.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_305bb5cb5095da6148911dae8b07356ece5b292148e6c8e57a39fd31d811624b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250511160536_305bb5cb5095da6148911dae8b07356ece5b292148e6c8e57a39fd31d811624b" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Binu Gurung on arrival in Japan to work as a nurse three years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  I take care of the elderly Japanese who are mostly above 80 years of age, a few even above 100. I try not to get too attached to patients but it is of course not always easy because of the nature of the job and patients we serve.&nbsp; Patients dying of age is common as it is not a care facility where patients recover to return to their homes. Just recently, an elderly lady who had been here from the day I joined 5.5 years ago passed.&nbsp; These leave you a bit खिन्न and emotionally drained. Most are <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dementia-brings-new-problem-that-families-have-little%20knowledge-of,2151">dementia patients</a> who do not &nbsp;even recognise their family members. Some elderly patients are reserved and do not feel comfortable as the work entails helping with personal care tasks like using the toilet or bathing and they can be irritable.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_c840a0b12c20c3d52d9eceec06a0bc8c90208f13e402c50f319583b1c1a93b87.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250511160536_c840a0b12c20c3d52d9eceec06a0bc8c90208f13e402c50f319583b1c1a93b87" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Binu Gurung's work involves taking care of elderly Japanese.</figcaption> </figure>  Building trust and rapport takes time, patience and familiarity. I do not think there is a way to explain how happy I feel when they are happy with the care we provide and thank us in smiles like we are their own family members.&nbsp; My own grandmother back in Nepal was in a similar situation requiring care before she passed and I am able to extend that kind of care to many patients.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250511160536_0f41ad57ae1ac5bd2f406d86cdc5f542b613cef6961d8fdf20c883ee38404b5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20250511160536_0f41ad57ae1ac5bd2f406d86cdc5f542b613cef6961d8fdf20c883ee38404b5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="DD 67"> <figcaption>Binu Gurung in Yokohama.</figcaption> </figure>  I know that this job is not for everyone. That is why some nurses who come to Japan because they want to just<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better"> migrate overseas </a>at any cost without considering the kind of employment realise that caregiving might not be for them.&nbsp; You have to be mentally, physically and emotionally prepared for it. If you are short-tempered by nature, for example, it may not be the best fit. However, for those who are genuinely interested in care work like I am, there are many growth opportunities in nursing which are also financially rewarding.&nbsp; While working under the SSW visa, I was able to take training classes on the side and passed the national exam for nursing. I was then able to change my visa from SSW to nursing caregiver visa. My son joined my husband and I recently in Japan and has started school.

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

Nepali nurses caring for the world

This is the 66th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. <h2>Siya Sada&nbsp;</h2> My husband never gets on cars or buses on his own. I cannot even imagine him flying on a plane by himself. His phobia of travel is very strong. Which is why unlike many men here in Janakpur, he never migrated.&nbsp; Instead, I sent my son to Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but both times he returned before his contract was up, with outstanding recruitment loans of Rs400,000.&nbsp; I had also taken additional loans for my daughter’s wedding. Heavily in debt, and frustrated with constant calls from the money lender, I decided to go overseas myself.&nbsp; There were other women I knew who had migrated to work as domestic workers in the Gulf and sent money home, so I decided to do the same. I did not tell anyone that I was migrating until the last minute.&nbsp; I had disappeared for 11 days in Kathmandu getting my documents ready, and my husband had gone around the village frantically looking for me with my father. I only informed them about my decision before my flight and ignored pleas from family not to leave.&nbsp; After our plane took off from Kathmandu to Kuwait, I enjoyed looking out of the window as we flew higher and higher. I worked there for six years.&nbsp; The first employer was mean spirited and terrible. She had a mischievous चकचके son whom I had difficulty taking care of. She expected me to carry his heavy toy car down four flights of stairs on my head for him to drive. This was just too much. She did not care whether I ate or not. After two years, I moved to a new family which was much nicer and treated me like family. The work was lighter because the children were all grown up and there was more consideration of my time to sleep, eat and work.&nbsp; There were no disagreements like with the previous employer, and I did as I was told उठ भने उठ, बस भने भस. The arrangement in that joint family was that each had their own domestic worker.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 65"> <figcaption>Siya Sada</figcaption> </figure>  We shared a room with an Ethiopian, Filipino and fellow Nepali. We had a strong bond between us, and we communicated with each other in Arabic which I had already picked up.&nbsp; In a foreign land, every day was a day closer to pay day. We would wait impatiently and count our fingers. I earned money, and I sent everything home to my family back in Nepal: “मैले कमाउने, परिवारले गन्ने”.&nbsp; I had plans to stay in Kuwait for 10 years but had to come back after six when I fell sick. I broke down when leaving, as I had become attached to the family I worked for.&nbsp; They bought me parting gifts like a watch, blanket, flashlight. I handed over my job to another Nepali domestic worker from Sunsari whom I trained before returning. I had managed to pay off my loans with my earnings in Kuwait, and had enough left over to buy some land and marry off my son. But since my stay was cut short, I could not manage to build a house.&nbsp; No other woman from my neighbourhood in Janakpur has migrated overseas that I am aware of. It is only men who migrate from around here.&nbsp; Perhaps I too would not have migrated if my husband had gone overseas, and my son had not returned. In addition to freeing myself from loan sharks, going overseas also widened my mind and horizon. If I had just stayed here in Nepal I would not have achieved as much, my loans would still have been unpaid. Life is back to normal now in Nepal. I am back to washing clothes with my hands and getting water from the well. I wish we could have brought back appliances like washing machines, rice cookers and vacuum cleaners but they are not practical here.&nbsp; Here, even when we leave the lights on for too long we have to worry about the electricity bill. How can we afford anything more ? I don’t even use the iron and hair dryer that I brought back. <h2>Gulbandan Devi Sada&nbsp;</h2> I spent three years and three months in Saudi Arabia and almost six years in Kuwait. It has been five years since I returned.&nbsp; My aunt-in-law had gone overseas, and I also wanted to go abroad to pay the medical bills of my sick husband and support four children. My husband supported my decision saying fate would determine if he would live or not, but we had to take care of our children.&nbsp; I traveled through India where the agent made us wait for a month. My husband died the day before my flight to Saudi Arabia. Everyone told me to continue with my journey as my husband would not return and my children needed to be taken care of. I went, and it took me a year to learn Arabic. Me and my employers relied on sign language and hand gestures to communicate with each other. It was not easy by any means.&nbsp; My employer taught me how to run the washing machine, iron and to cook as per their liking, after which she left things in my hands. Initially, I burnt clothes while ironing, broke the washing machine and my employer threatened to deduct the cost from my wages, but she thankfully did not do it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 66"> <figcaption>Gulbandan Devi Sada</figcaption> </figure>  But I found out my employer made money off of me by sending me to work at other people’s homes. I did not enjoy my stay there as she was किचकिचे demanding. I used to miss my children while taking care of her children who were of similar age. I had left them with my late mother.&nbsp; When I took care of children overseas, I had to be more cautious than with my own back home since the consequences would be severe if they fell down and got hurt while running around. With my savings, I bought land here, got my brother married and did a big puja. After a few months in Nepal, I went to Kuwait to work. This time, the experience was easier because I spoke Arabic and had gathered experience. But even there, I had to change two employers as I did not have a good experience with the families. The third house I worked in was better, and I stayed with them.&nbsp; Back home I built a house with my earnings, and married off my daughter. Although I wanted to stay longer, I decided to return because I had health issues. I worry about old age and the need to have savings, and even consider migrating sometimes. My only hope now is my children. When I returned to Nepal, my Kuwaiti employer kept calling me saying I should return because the children missed me. But I have my own children to focus on now.&nbsp;

Every day is closer to pay day

This is the 63rd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. <h2>Mani Prasad Gurung&nbsp;</h2> When <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/11-56-25-april-2015-wkc9q2an">the earthquake </a>hit, I was in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bhaktapur-2-0-d8m66qhb">Bhaktapur</a> for work. My friend who had driven us from Kathmandu was so scared after the earthquake that he was shaking and was unable to drive as his arms were too weak. So I took the driver’s seat as we headed back to Kathmandu. Perhaps <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/you-must-be-having-so-much-fun-there">living in Japan </a>for almost a decade meant that I was more used to the shaking. Many around me were panicking. Thankfully, I managed to call my family immediately after the earthquake and found out they were safe before the phones got disconnected. After reaching Kathmandu through <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/from-nowhere-to-nowhere">damaged roads</a>, everyone was outside their houses and scared because of the frequent <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/seismological-Centre-2015-earthquake,2230">aftershocks</a>. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_cf8b3dd9420c9a36528eb8ed93de4275b6b3ebc702de51bab6f63635294fdb66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025041905048_cf8b3dd9420c9a36528eb8ed93de4275b6b3ebc702de51bab6f63635294fdb66" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  I am originally from Bahundanda in Lamjung. It was difficult to reach people on the phone, but we did what we could to stay updated. Recently, we took it upon ourselves to rebuild one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-with-the-old-in-nepal">historic temples</a> that had been destroyed by the earthquake. It will be inaugurated this week on 19 April, ten years after it collapsed. Over 320 people from Lamjung now living in the US, Australia, Japan, Qatar and Saudi Arabia as well as various parts of Nepal contributed. It is a collective effort of hundreds of individuals attached to our village.&nbsp; <h2>Sitaram Giri&nbsp;</h2> I worked in Dubai for seven years, starting out as a construction helper before my boss hired me as his personal driver since he liked my work and trusted me. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">Life was all right overseas</a>, I suppose. But coming home for a two-month break after five years abroad and spending time with my children, I just did not want to be away again. I wanted to come home to Nepal. I am not sure what changed, but my heart just was not in Dubai. I dragged myself to stay on for 2.5 more years before finally deciding to call it quits in 2015. I had driving skills, so I could use that to find a job in Nepal. &nbsp; I stayed in Kathmandu for a few days and headed to my village in<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-the-deluge-in-nepal"> Sindhupalchok </a>to help out on the farm. I was having my morning meal one day exactly ten years ago, when everything started shaking. I ran outside just as my home collapsed in a cloud of dust.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_75d4425924ced5f17656e62ffcec00ba5f76c790871adb3186b70edd84256106.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025041905048_75d4425924ced5f17656e62ffcec00ba5f76c790871adb3186b70edd84256106" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  People were screaming that there were children buried <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/miracle-boy-six-years-after-nepal-quake">under the rubble</a>. I lost my grandmother, but could rescue my nephew from a collapsed building. We tried to dig out as many people as we could while consoling those who lost family members and helping with the funerals. Many survivors lost their livestock. The earthquake struck just a few days after my return to Nepal. It was God who brought me back to be with my family. If I was abroad, I would be in so much stress. As it is, my children were in Kathmandu, and it was difficult for me to reach them. But they were safe.&nbsp; Being in my village also meant I could help my neighbours. Friends from abroad sent us support for reconstruction. With that, some of my own savings, a government grant and some loans, I eventually rebuilt my house for Rs700,000. It did cross my mind that I might have to migrate for work again, but I also had this जति गरेनी एस्तै हो feeling that it would not make a difference. After years of hard work overseas to build my home, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/born-again-after-the-earthquake">the earthquake</a> destroyed it in seconds – as if the house never even existed. I lost my phone in the quake. In it were all my photos from Dubai. <h2>Subhash Acharya</h2> I worked in Iraq for 32 months, and again in Saudi Arabia for 44 months before heading back to Nepal where I now run an electronic shop. My economic situation made me decide to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-survivors-migrate-for-work">migrate</a>, but I chose Iraq because my brother was there. I was in Saudi Arabia when the earthquake struck Nepal in 2015. I saw images of destruction online, Dharara had collapsed and there was death and devastation everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_b3bdafb2128e7fe3c7fca28e08ed2881fcb4b87f8ceb6958b7e2893c930e22b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025041905048_b3bdafb2128e7fe3c7fca28e08ed2881fcb4b87f8ceb6958b7e2893c930e22b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  I worried because if that was what happened to Kathmandu, my home village in Sindhupalchok would also have been affected. Indeed, when I got in touch with my family four hours later, I learnt that there was nothing left of my home but the first floor. Thankfully, everyone was alive. I already had a return ticket for Nepal for my vacation after a week so I decided to come home as planned. If I did not have a ticket, I would have bought one for the very next day. My family was safe, so I decided to stay in a tent for two months. Everyone around us was affected. My friends and company in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/saudi-labour-reforms-to-benefit-nepalis">Saudi Arabia </a>helped me and my colleagues who bore losses. When overseas, we help each other during times of trouble like medical or family emergencies. We pool funds and chip in however much we can, whatever we can manage. This time I was at the receiving end. In addition to the SAR2,000 ($540) from my company, I received about $1,000 from my fellow workers from India, Bangladesh, and Philippines. I was really very touched by their generosity. <h2>Gopal Theeng Tamang</h2> I was an undocumented security guard in Malaysia when I heard about the earthquake that shook Nepal in 2015. My mind immediately went to my brother and sister-in-law in Sindhupalchok which was badly affected. The rest of my family was in Kathmandu, and were safe. But I could not reach my brother and his wife. Calls were not going through the first few days. When I finally made contact, I learnt that their house had collapsed completely.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_3fffd2700ba545e7b462bd77f2f91e252c364e81c2b9bfbe59c88ea7e132a754.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025041905048_3fffd2700ba545e7b462bd77f2f91e252c364e81c2b9bfbe59c88ea7e132a754" data-rendition-name="original" width="540" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  They had built this home with their lifetime of earnings. My sister-in-law would cry on the phone, and I tried to help my brother in whatever small way I could. A group of us in Malaysia also organised a small campaign to raise funds to buy rice for families in our village. As security guards in Malaysia, we had to work long hours. I had 12 hour night shifts, and even though a disaster had struck my home country, duty called. &nbsp; My brother has rebuilt a smaller tin-roofed house. I left Malaysia and emigrated to Iraq for five years where I worked as a housekeeper, waiter and then barista. I moved back to Nepal for good two years ago.

When disaster strikes home

This is the 62nd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. On 25 April 2015, I was on a video call with my friend in Nepal from the UAE when she suddenly panicked. Her house had started shaking. My instinct told me it was an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deadly-earthquake-hits-w-nepal">earthquake</a> so I told her to get out of the house as soon as possible.&nbsp; As she ran outside, the line got disconnected. It was my turn to panic. A few moments later, she called again to tell me she was safe, but got disconnected again. Since then, I have not heard from her and all my efforts to reach her have been in vain.&nbsp; Even after a decade, I do not even know if she is alive. After her call, I was worried about my family as news of the mega earthquake had already started spreading. I could not get in touch with my father in Rasuwa, but was relieved to know my brother and other family members were okay and camping outdoors. &nbsp; My father, who had gone to the market, was missing and I was worried. My brother finally called to say he was all right. I was somewhat relieved that my family back home had survived the earthquake, unlike thousands of others. That our house was destroyed mattered less, but I was concerned about the frequent <a href="about:blank">aftershocks</a>.&nbsp; Being away at such a time is difficult. I am sure most <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Nepalis in the diaspora</a> were in a similar situation: restless, sleepless and desperate to be back home as we refreshed our phones for updates or tried to call relatives. Some replied, others did not. My heart was in a constant state of worry: about my family, my village and my country.&nbsp; I was desperate to come home. My family was safe and alive, but maybe I could at least save one person from under the rubble if I went back to Nepal. But I was in the middle of my employment contract in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/uae-warning-to-send-back-workers-including-nepalis">the UAE </a>and could not just leave. After around two weeks, the desperate urge to return started subsiding and I became more practical. If I returned to Nepal, I would once again be unemployed and hard up. My family was living in a temporary shelter, and the best thing I could do was to earn as much as possible so we could <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-survivors-migrate-for-work">rebuild our house</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250405080412_80b55004bc3a3fd19b9c95339a24f5f22d2a74b4fc61ba07deb46955d1df2674.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250405080412_80b55004bc3a3fd19b9c95339a24f5f22d2a74b4fc61ba07deb46955d1df2674" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="DD 62"> <figcaption>Aman Eakal back in Kathmandu, showing a photo of his home destoryed in the earthquake, and trying to build a singing career. </figcaption> </figure>  My heart was aching not just for my family but also for my country. I transferred my first month’s salary of Rs80,000 to the Prime Minister’s Relief Fund. As my family was safe, I thought it was more important to contribute to the nation.&nbsp; I had served seven years in the Armed Police Force (APF), and perhaps that is why I felt a sense of responsibility. I also started remitting as much as I could to my family. Even before the earthquake, I was most careful about my spending habits, some might even consider me a कन्जुस miser.&nbsp; We value every paisa because we are aware of the pain of our families <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-korea-s-prosperity-to-nepal">back home</a>, and our own sacrifices: eating the previous day’s rice with cold veggies or dal in a plastic bag on the roadside during lunch breaks.&nbsp; The earthquake made me even more cautious. I wanted to send home every extra Dirham I could. I took on more overtime hours and even stopped spending on fruit and meat in the market on my days off.&nbsp; I was in the APF’s communication department, so I knew people in the Nepal government and I stayed in touch with them for earthquake updates. Nepalis in Dubai also asked me about the latest from home.&nbsp; Even today, when I think of that time during the earthquake, my heart feels heavy. It was poverty that kept me far from my family and country. I had migrated to work so I could invest my savings in my younger brother and children.&nbsp; My childhood memories are of scarcity and challenges. I did not even know what it meant to eat खाजा snacks in school. Till Grade 5, all I had was a pair of shorts, we could not even afford trousers. My family could buy me a school uniform only after Grade 7, and I wore it right through my school life. It was only after my father went to work in Kathmandu that we stopped worrying about eating two meals a day. But poverty is relative. There were fellow students who got to eat lunch in school and focus on homework, whereas I had to finish household chores that left no time for assignments. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250405080412_21b47d56f3941ca53b9faa933de900b8eb0c7564f687d0f18d16a800bc58522b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250405080412_21b47d56f3941ca53b9faa933de900b8eb0c7564f687d0f18d16a800bc58522b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1287" loading="lazy" alt="DD 62"> <figcaption>A page of lyrics Aman Eakal wrote during the earthquake that evokaes longing for the motherland, worry about home and family, and a commitment to rebuild the country.</figcaption> </figure>  And there were those who were even worse off, and did not go to school at all, or dropped out. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal">The Maoist conflict</a> made it impossible for me to stay in the village because the guerrillas tried to force me to join their militia.&nbsp; My older brother was in the Army and refused. To avoid them, I even used to ask my mother to lock my room from the outside. But one day, they dragged me out and warned that my brother or I had to join the Maoists within one month. They even fired shots to scare me. My brother was posted in Itahari and told me to run away to Kathmandu. I quit my studies and joined the APF but the salary was low and my mentor from the force, a deputy inspector who treated me like a son, died in an accident.&nbsp; I lost interest and decided to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better">migrate overseas</a>. My APF salary was Rs10,200 a month at the time, and in the UAE I would earn over Rs72,000. I had loans of over Rs850,000 mainly because of my mother’s health expenses. With my Nepal salary, it would take me a lifetime to pay off these loans so I had to migrate.&nbsp; I worked as a security guard and later refilled cash in ATM machines in the UAE, and it was all to support my family. I focused a lot on my younger brother and parents as I was unmarried for the first few years. My own studies had been affected by poverty, but I could not let my brother face the same fate.&nbsp; I enrolled him in a private school and asked him to focus on his studies. I would fulfil all my personal dreams through him. He is now doing a PhD in China and this could not make me prouder. I think it is my life’s biggest achievement. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-survivors-migrate-for-work">Quake survivors migrate for work</a> My father sacrificed his life for us. I was told that he used to bleed from his mouth from overwork as he crushed stones or cut wood. I wanted to make sure my parents would not have to worry about work or money anymore.&nbsp; I gave up all my dreams and passions in life except one — a deep desire to one day record my own songs. After returning to Nepal, I recorded three songs, including one that I had written some 20 years ago.&nbsp; I do not know what the future holds. I do not have the money to start my own business in Nepal, although it is constantly on my mind. I am a new father and my responsibilities are growing. If I am unable to start a business soon, I may very well have to migrate again to the UAE or to Europe. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <video controls src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250405080416_306fcaa9702389af66c5c9476c6cffb792ebcc298a544e5c080e3e220faed8ec.mp4" alt="" width="100%" height="100%"></video> <figcaption>Away from home when Nepal shook | Aman Ekal (Diaspora Diaries 62)</figcaption> </figure>

Away from home when Nepal shook

This is the 61st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. I interrupted my Grade 11 education to go to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-malaysia-nepal-migrant-scam-nexus">Malaysia</a> to work as a security guard. During <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/uproar-over-maoist-war-anniversary-holiday">the Maoist era </a>the environment in my college was not conducive to studies. I stayed on in Malaysia for eight years.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance?wptouch_preview_theme=enabled">Overseas earnings</a> helped me support my family and buy land, and more importantly, to spend on the treatment of my father’s heart condition. Our duty was 12 hours and we were on our feet all day checking in visitors and employees at the gate. Nights were slow and all we did was walk around with our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-street-smart-dogs">dogs</a> and check every hour on our radios. Sometimes, the boys also sang <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-folk-songs-move-beyond-love-and-loss">dohori </a>over the radio as we passed the long nights.&nbsp; One memorable part of my security job was that we were each assigned a dog, and were also evaluated on how well we trained them. My dog’s name was Amy and I grew very fond of her over the years. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/must-love-dogs?fbclid=IwAR1WFHDdcYJoe29GVP03I9ojdftlNqmYiGU5RDfk9ytBxNo8oC35kutToy8_aem_AeAxkQFtD1IKZSXPX6eijBytfPIihI2PVfhxDqyfbN3ZlnybtV5e82Va9-Or_rSCXbk">Must love dogs</a>, Eliza Sthapit During drills, we wore protective clothes that prevented us from getting hurt if we were bitten, and as a lightweight, I was easily attacked and trampled. But I was sent home unexpectedly because I had encouraged new <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-overseas-workers-who-remain-behind">Nepali workers </a>to demand <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-welcomes-qatar-labour-reform">higher wages</a> since they were paid less than me for similar work. That felt unfair, but no one wants a foreign rabble rouser.&nbsp; For some time after being sent back abruptly, I felt bad because I was not mentally prepared to come home. I had planned to stay for another two years, and had made earning plans accordingly.&nbsp; For a year in Nepal, I studied for the EPS which was started in 2008. Going to Korea had not picked up strongly then. I saw my friends and villagers <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/long-wait-over-nepalis-return-to-korea">migrating to Korea</a> one by one, and decided to give it a try. In Korean language class, the teacher used to say “Anyhow कोरिया जौँ”, and all we wanted to do was get to Korea. We had to study hard and I gave it my all. I used to write the Korean names for every object so it was etched in my memory. Whether it was a phone or bucket or plate, it would have the Korean word for it and my walls and ceiling were full of Korean words. I passed.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-korea-s-prosperity-to-nepal?amp=1">Bringing Korea’s prosperity to Nepal</a> My migration to Korea was a bit dramatic. It was two days after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviewing-lessons-of-the-2015-nepal-earthquake">the earthquake</a>, and we were at the EPS office in Gwarko for our documents and caps and tshirts. I did not get to properly shop for Korea. Even though I was unprepared for the trip, the frequent aftershocks and the closeness of death made me desperate to leave. I was relieved to get on the plane and escape. In Korea, I grew capsicum. The work was easy, except for a couple of months. Night duty as a security guard in Malaysia made it difficult to pass time, but in Korea, I was working around the clock and lost track of the hours. My wife and I studied in the same <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/languages-are-both-software-and-hardware">language school</a> in Nepal. She was assigned to a strawberry farm. We got married in Nepal a few years later, and wanted to work together.&nbsp; I found a new job in a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees">pig farm</a>, where I asked my employer about the possibility of bringing my wife to the same company and he said that if he was happy with my work, he would hire her.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040312_24a4996cf7e2654637b707a52e1fe3e17932fb44991587b04a736b0328e43404.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250321040312_24a4996cf7e2654637b707a52e1fe3e17932fb44991587b04a736b0328e43404" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="The meat of the story NT"> </figure>  That was enough incentive for me to work extra hard and I picked things up fast which made my employer happy. That’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/making-overseas-migration-better">how it is overseas</a>: things are easier if you win the confidence of your employer. They eventually hired my wife, with whom I worked together for two-and-a-half years. My employer increasingly relied on me while also investing heavily in our knowledge and growth.&nbsp; Every morning, he used to teach us about pig farming for an hour or two, which has been invaluable for us till today, covering a range of topics including raising piglets, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-there-vaccine-hesitancy-in-nepal">vaccination</a>, artificial insemination and how to breed them on rotation. He was full of good life advice, too, including for our post-return plans. In 2020, we decided to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/now-what">come back to Nepal</a>. By this point, I felt like I had learnt everything that I needed to know about pig farming. My wife and I wanted to run a pig farm in Nepal on a rotational system, something that is not practiced widely here which puts <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/farm-subsidies-money-down-the-drain">farmers at a financial disadvantage</a>. We returned to Nepal during<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-goes-into-lockdown-for-a-week"> the early stages of Covid</a>. It is strange how I left during an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/earthquake-vacates-villages-in-nepal">earthquake</a> and returned five years later to another crisis. After eight months we started our Unnati Bangur Hamro Bangur Farm in Panauti. Just as things were picking up, we had to go through a devastating loss when the African swine fever hit Nepal. Back then, I was spending all my time in the hospital because my newborn had a heart condition, and four months after his birth, he passed.&nbsp; There was African swine flu detected in my farm, after which we had to shut it down for almost a year. These multiple losses took my wife and me to a dark place for months, before we had to gather ourselves up and restart work. Thankfully, things are going better now. This is the nature of business, you need to exercise patience. Things are not constant. Profit, loss. Supply, demand.&nbsp; Rates of meat have gone up now because many farmers exited the market after the swine fever. We were patient, and now get significantly better rates which has helped us recover. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/meat-money-and-the-middle-class">Meat, money, and the middle class</a> The meat available in regular meat shops is very different from what we offer because our pigs are fed quality feed, not waste, and are given proper vaccinations. We have good buyers like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-korea-s-prosperity-to-nepal?amp=1">Hankook Meat Shop run by fellow Korean returnees</a> who look for quality produce.&nbsp; The challenge of working in Nepal is that there is no proper differentiation by quality of meat, and no traceability to the farms producing the meat which makes farmers less accountable for consumers’ health. It harms those &nbsp;practicing ethical farming. Manufacturing is more popular in Korea among Nepali EPS workers, but it is work in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal">the agriculture sector </a>that is more useful after return. I brought most of my equipment from Korea along with me.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/social-remittance">Social remittance</a>, Upasana Khadka&nbsp; When we returned for good, our suitcases had no personal items like chocolates or electronics, they were full of farming equipment like vaccine guns and pig tooth nippers. &nbsp; Even now, I tell my friends in Korea to bring me farm equipment when they come home on breaks, and that I will buy them the usual blankets and chocolates to gift to their families in Nepal itself. &nbsp;&nbsp;

The meat of the story

This is the 60th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. <h2>Dil Bahadur Tamang</h2> I come from a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-class-divide-widens">middle-class family</a>, and my father did all he could to make sure we had a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality">proper education</a>. I really wanted to be an engineer, but was not that good in studies and my father could not afford to pay for college. So I joined Korean language classes instead. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/long-wait-over-nepalis-return-to-korea">In Korea</a>, I was blown away by the infrastructure and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/development-destruction-yt3t1yhu">development</a>. But once I entered my company premises, it was a different story. It was a smelly place with piles of trash.&nbsp; This was not the standard ‘foreign company’ of my imagination. I had been placed with a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/everest-garbage-caravan">plastic recycling</a> company, and worked three years there before it went bankrupt. I switched to a welding company. Korea taught me the value of work and time, and more importantly, just how much of a difference being within a system can make. &nbsp; <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> I randomly came across an acquaintance who was a Korea returnee and jokingly told him that I also wanted to go. He talked about a new Government-to-Government (G2G) scheme called EPS, and told me I should give it a shot. It would be cheaper and more rewarding, but I had to pass a language test. My first <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">job in Korea</a> was drying animal leather, but a year later I moved to a plastic company before returning to Nepal to start my own <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/biodegradable-plastic-launched-in-nepal">plastic manufacturing </a>venture with Shahadev.&nbsp; Despite having skills and experience, I quickly realised that it was difficult to remain competitive with 18 hours of daily power cuts. We were afraid of losing our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya?fbclid=IwAR3lAnpyoOKTvyb9ekXulEcPzzZCfBmLYLZq950Bv6ElccPHVPM2175ABeI">hard earned money</a>.&nbsp; So Shahadev and I decided to remigrate and joined our previous company in Korea. This time, the thought of “नेपाल गएर के गर्ने?” kept gnawing at me. The skills and experience I acquired in Korea were not usable back home, where my heart was. &nbsp; I used to go to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-easy-for-nepal-to-buffalo-meat-to-china">meat</a> shop nearby, where the shopkeeper, an elderly woman, was nice to me. We used to chat, and I wondered if I could start something similar in Nepal: a well-organised meat shop.&nbsp; My friend and I started <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage">applying for jobs</a> in the meat sector. We wanted to work at a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees">pig farm</a>, but got jobs in a meat processing plant. <h2>Shahadev Gurung</h2> We were the first lot that went to Korea under the EPS scheme. Korea had a good image in our community, a place where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/let-s-listen-to-nepal-s-young-changemakers">young Nepalis</a> could make something of themselves.&nbsp; Prabin and I went on the same flight, we worked in the same plastic company, and changed to the same meat processing company. We thought it would be easy, and would be simply cutting meat like we did back home. But there everything had to be cut just right. It was a new experience and initially felt complicated. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/meat-money-and-the-middle-class">Meat, money, and the middle class</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040328_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250321040328_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bringing Korea's prosperity to Nepal NT"> <figcaption>BACK HOME: (Left to right) Dil Bahadur Tamang making a pitch at the RIN program. Prabin Shrestha at his shop in Nepal. Sahadev Gurung cutting meat surgically.</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> Our employer told us that he had started with nothing, and made a lot of money selling meat. With just a knife and focus on hygiene, you can do a lot if you put your mind to it, he used to tell us.&nbsp; It was like surgery. Every part mattered. Knowing that these skills could be an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-equaliser">investment back home</a>, we were keen to learn everything about cutting meat perfectly.&nbsp; After work, we used to take home the bones to assemble a skeleton so we could learn about all the parts. We would memorise the names and familiarise ourselves with the right angle of the knife to slice them with. We were so obsessed we learnt in 2.5 months what took others six months. Our employer gave us raises. <h2>Dil Bahadur Tamang</h2> After we <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/returning-to-nepal-has-its-rewards">returned to Nepal</a>, we started Hankook Meat Mart. I have known my co-founder Prabin Shrestha for 25 years, he is like family to me. We studied together, went to Korea together. Even before we left Nepal, we knew that we would one day run a business together. Returning from Korea, we studied the market for months before launching the business, visiting meat shops and talking to people.&nbsp; We learnt that oversupply of meat reduced the price and put quality farmers at a disadvantage. Even when we found cheaper suppliers, we set a floor price for our meat suppliers who were picked based on whether they fed the pigs proper feed and not waste, and if the animals were 6-8 months old.&nbsp; We also realised that pork meat parts are not separated but mashed together. Hygiene and quality also fluctuated. Consumers get good meat one day and the next day the same shop sold meat that was difficult even to chew.&nbsp; Imported meat was available, but costly. Our niche was going to be quality, premium meat.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040328_90757fa0c57e4e8254e764f556f528d382a0b4e8cb75caa3fe0a2cb52c8e77ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250321040328_90757fa0c57e4e8254e764f556f528d382a0b4e8cb75caa3fe0a2cb52c8e77ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Bringing Korea's prosperity to Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Hankook Meat Mart stood second in the Returnee Innovators Showcase that was organised by The Bridge International and funded by KOICA.</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Shahadev Gurung</h2> The three of us work well together even after all these years. There is a strong trust between us. Each of us individually carry out our duties well. That I think is what has worked for us to help us endure this long partnership. The skills we learnt in Korea have stayed with us, and we are still reaping the benefits. Current EPS workers engaged in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal">agriculture sector </a>can benefit here as the skills can be used, but you have to be willing to work hard in Nepal just like you do <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/grass-is-greener-overseas-for-nepals-doctors">overseas</a>.&nbsp; You cannot slow down just because you are in Nepal. It is also helpful to think about your return while overseas, that makes transitioning to Nepal much easier. <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> Korea for me was like a university where I learnt a lot. When I came home, my suitcase was full of knives, aprons for meat processing.&nbsp; There are so many things that we can learn <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">overseas</a>, small things that would make our lives easier here. All I learnt was to cut meat. But we have created jobs for 30-40 people, while being close to family. We don’t have to dream very big. I enjoy working in Nepal. I saw many cottage industries that started small in Korea that I found inspiring so we bring machines from Korea and run shops that &nbsp;make rice cakes and kimchi. We are opening a new branch, and a small Korean restaurant. My former boss who visited us in Nepal is thrilled with our progress and even gifted us a meat slicer. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal</a>, Mahesh Sah Working in Nepal is not always easy, of course, the trick is to try to find happiness even in those tough moments. That makes life easier. This kind of hustle can scare some people and dissuade many but we have to build the appetite for it because one day, these experiences will become part of our story, our journey. &nbsp;

Bringing Korea’s prosperity to Nepal

This is the 59th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Growing up in Okhaldhunga, my sisters never went to school. I got a chance to take functional literacy classes and learned to read and write. This made me realise the importance of education, so I asked my father to send me to school. He agreed.&nbsp; I had to create this situation for myself. I was fortunate to get my father’s approval despite his initial reluctance because the trend back then was to<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/can-nepal-end-child-marriage-by-2030-gmx92qf3"> marry off daughters</a> after they reached 14 or 15. That was all he had known.&nbsp; Fortunately, my father did not insist on me marrying young. It helped that my brothers in Kathmandu were supportive.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250308030316_5d69794595d47468c9c3a3577cb39c3045aedf47dc758d9abd6cd512b231b2cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250308030316_5d69794595d47468c9c3a3577cb39c3045aedf47dc758d9abd6cd512b231b2cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="966" height="1138" loading="lazy" alt="With family DD"> <figcaption>STEERING MY OWN LIFE: With my parents before leaving Nepal for the UAE in 2015. My father died soon after I left.</figcaption> </figure>  What was it about marrying young that did not appeal to me? I am not sure. But the thought of it used to make me anxious because conversations with my aunts back then made it seem like they had to give up on everything once they got married. There is no <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/from-slave-to-freedom-fighter">freedom</a> to do what one wants in life.&nbsp; For example, even when there were free all-women adult literacy classes in our village that many of my aunts were keen to join, their families did not approve. Some accepted life the way it was (“यस्तै त हो नि”). Others were sad about having to kill their ambitions.&nbsp; Marrying young felt too restrictive for me, I just was not ready for it. Instead, I came to Kathmandu after Grade 8 to join two of my brothers.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/how-the-climate-crisis-adds-to-child-marriage-in-nepal">How the climate crisis adds to child marriage in Nepal</a>, Sonam Lama Between working as a cook at an office and attending school, where I often had to miss my last class to make it to work on time, I somehow managed to pass my SLC. I then did odd jobs like work as a receptionist and later as a cashier at a Chinese restaurant. I also invested with my brother on Momo Palace, a restaurant that unfortunately did not succeed because there was not enough money to buy a refrigerator, and there were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-they-kept-nepal-in-the-dark-ages">long power cuts in those days</a>. After finally getting married and having a child in 2010, I was a stay-at-home mom for a bit. After <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu">the 2015 earthquake</a>, I left for the UAE leaving my son behind with my family.&nbsp; I first worked at a beauty parlour, waxing, straightening hair, threading. Many of my clients were Filipinas with whom I used to have engaging conversations. I asked for advice about career prospects, and they were generous with suggestions.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025030803034_9b84a14526f5ef61c634439d500f1b4c0dbc8126231e8d41f8463771ee9f697e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2025030803034_9b84a14526f5ef61c634439d500f1b4c0dbc8126231e8d41f8463771ee9f697e" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Beauty parlour DD"> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250308030312_c85e454d376bdec42d2f9b1de794a111fbe756542f853c6efd44e031cb623d3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250308030312_c85e454d376bdec42d2f9b1de794a111fbe756542f853c6efd44e031cb623d3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="528" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="With mother DD"> <figcaption>With my mother in Dubai in 2017, when I worked in a beauty parlour, but passion was always to learn to drive.</figcaption> </figure>  I was always fascinated with driving. Back in Nepal, I used to be in awe of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/women-in-the-driving-seat">women who drove </a>six-wheelers. I used to wait for auto rickshaws driven by women, and had a deep sense of appreciation for what they did because they were <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/nepali-mountaineer-breaking-barriers,2708">breaking barriers</a>.&nbsp; My customers from the Philippines said they drove company cars or were chauffeurs for Emirati families. I was really interested, and used to call them up in the evenings to seek more advice.&nbsp; The work at the parlour was a necessity, I knew my interests were elsewhere. But the idea of driving on the busy streets was scary at first. But my customers assured me that it was difficult at first, but once you understood the rules, how the system worked, it was safe and driving was very doable.&nbsp; Initially, I faced challenges obtaining my driving license because back then the work visa category determined eligibility.&nbsp; For example, only those in the transport sector, in managerial positions and in security qualified for a license.&nbsp; It was disappointing, but I sought a job at a transportation company and worked as a school bus driver’s companion to manage children on their way to school and back, what we call a खलासी in Nepal.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-flying-doctor">Nepal’s flying doctor</a>, Kunda Dixit I enjoyed the job as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mixed-picture-for-nepal-s-children">the children </a>were friendly, and reminded me of my son of similar age back home.&nbsp; I worked there for a couple of years, even though the pay was 300 Dirhams less than my wages in the salon. But I was so committed to a driving job that I just wanted to get a toehold to obtain a UAE-license. I was the only woman in driving class, the others would be curious about where I was from and why I wanted to drive. I took the lessons seriously, and worked hard to study traffic rules. Such was my determination to obtain a license.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250308030316_f72b15112e7971eefdce49abc88c863d946bd3d6d55ec205631ac945de59b236.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250308030316_f72b15112e7971eefdce49abc88c863d946bd3d6d55ec205631ac945de59b236" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="In UAE DD"> <figcaption>It was a proud moment when I took my son and mother around the UAE in my car in 2017. Wished my father was also there to see me.</figcaption> </figure>  I passed both theoretical and practical tests at one go, and bought a cheap car. My dream had been to drive my mother around, and in 2017, my mother and son came to Dubai, their first trip abroad.&nbsp; I was emotional back then because my father had died unexpectedly just a month after I left for the Emirates. He had asked me to buy him a touch phone, but he died before I even made my first pay check with which I planned to buy it for him.&nbsp; He would have loved to see me driving around Dubai. I took my mother around and also bought her a phone. What I could not do for my father, I did for her. My son was a bit distant at first, as we had been separated for two years. But by the time they were headed back to Nepal, he could not stop crying and clung on to me.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya"> From retail to selling chiya</a>, Gautam Guvaju I first started by driving a taxi. There were a few women driving taxis, including two Nepalis. Initially, it was difficult to find my way around Abu Dhabi. If I missed one turn, it could delay customers, and some who were regular on that route would create a fuss.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250308030316_be44085e095b54fca1089bd46303909b8ec1fa971c8ac463907c537a4cfa3911.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250308030316_be44085e095b54fca1089bd46303909b8ec1fa971c8ac463907c537a4cfa3911" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Dhabi DD"> <figcaption>I drove a taxi around Abu Dhabi for five years, but always wanted to do more.</figcaption> </figure>  I wanted to avoid them complaining to my employer, so I would apologise and ask them to just pay their regular fare. Some agreed, others understood that I was a beginner and paid the full fare.&nbsp; I steadily got to know my way around, and drove taxis for five years. I used to read the local news quite a bit to stay informed about traffic law updates.&nbsp; One day, I read that there were women from the Philippines and African countries who were driving buses. I decided to get a bus license.&nbsp; When I first went to apply for it, they questioned me about why I wanted to drive a bus. I told them confidently that I could drive a bus, which was met with much surprise and amusement.&nbsp; I took the classes, the solo female student yet again. As the only woman in a group of 35 during the road test, I used to avoid the ‘ladies first’ offers because I wanted to see how others before me did so I could observe them.&nbsp; I was already a nervous driver, and I got even more nervous when they offered to let me go first. Eventually, I was one of the only seven who passed in the group of 35 drivers. Finding a job as a woman bus driver was somewhat tougher than getting the license. Abu Dhabi did not allow it due to the absence of policies for female bus drivers, so I had to look for a job in Dubai.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/three-toots-for-tootle">Three toots for Tootle</a>, Sonia Awale&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250308030324_d984dee93e0d168a9d049d92594c8882b7e876622972599bcacd3dbb0be978ad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250308030324_d984dee93e0d168a9d049d92594c8882b7e876622972599bcacd3dbb0be978ad" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Women;s day DD"> </figure>  I was thrilled when I was finally hired by a company that invested in my training as I taught myself the route. With my trainer's help, I used to draw a map of my route with the relevant stops. After the workday, I drove through the route in my car to make sure I was familiar with it. &nbsp; Since then, I have been driving a double-decker bus and taking tourists to old and modern Dubai.&nbsp; It is important to stay curious and keep pushing ourselves. I have invested a lot of money in getting a bus license, classes and other skills training, and I see it as an investment for my future.&nbsp; I don’t know what awaits me. I am 41 now, but want to keep trying new things, and refuse to let my age determine my drive. If I did, I would have stuck to my parlour job instead of taking risks and a pay cut.&nbsp; Many people choose to play it safe in life, but I have always believed in stepping outside my comfort zone and challenging what is considered appropriate work for women.&nbsp; That is what I tell <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/youth-led-feeding-campaign-spreads-across-nepalhttps://nepalitimes.com/here-now/youth-led-feeding-campaign-spreads-across-nepal">Nepali youth</a> who are considering <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">going abroad for work</a>: do not migrate empty-handed without any skills. Paper certificates do not hold much value if they do not translate into practical abilities. I enjoy my job driving the Big Bus. Earnings aside, it is rewarding to be appreciated by tourists who hop on. They want to take pictures, and ask me about myself. At traffic stops, people crossing the road sometimes wave at me.&nbsp; Such appreciation is like an extra bonus pay, and it motivates me even more. I feel proud to know that I am the first woman double decker bus driver in the tourism sector here.&nbsp; Nepalis in Dubai also shower me with a lot of affection. They tell me they have seen me on the news or on social media, and want to take selfies with me, smiling widely.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250308030332_b2d59d63c0ffff6d6e86e8bc6a7aa583881ab0dbb64ce0e8e253421aa3627436.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250308030332_b2d59d63c0ffff6d6e86e8bc6a7aa583881ab0dbb64ce0e8e253421aa3627436" data-rendition-name="original" width="590" height="1020" loading="lazy" alt="Son DD"> <figcaption>My son on the top deck of my Big Bus when he visited Dubai recently.</figcaption> </figure>  My son tells me how his teachers and friends back home asked about me after seeing video interviews about my journey. It was a proud moment for me recently to drive my son around Dubai on the double decker.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kalpanas-auto-autonomy">Kalpana's auto autonomy</a>, Maheshwor Acharya Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

A woman’s drive to push boundaries

This is the 58th edition of Diaspora Diaries, and a followup to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-4-xprqcf4x">#4 in this series</a>, published in Nepali Times #1104, 25-31 March 2022. We recommend reading that piece, available online at our website, before this one. It has been three years since I returned to Nepal from Lebanon. I did not think I would make it out alive after 12 years working for a family that never paid me. I returned empty-handed, and it was my mother who supported me. Without her, I do not know what would have happened to me.&nbsp; For some time after returning, I did not do anything. But I finally &nbsp;gather myself together, and trained as a beautician. Perhaps it was the trauma of my experience overseas, but I was introverted and did not socialise much in class. No one knew what I had been through in Lebanon. My troubles were mine to keep. I did not share them with anyone. The training centre also offered us jobs and I tried working for a few months on facials, hair straightening. But the chemicals made my chest hurt, so I quit. I found it <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-art-of-healing">therapeutic</a> to cook, and started <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/youth-led-feeding-campaign-spreads-across-nepal">preparing meals for households</a>. I cook the morning and evening meals for a family. Sometimes I cater home gatherings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250228120224_f8cdc6a45443f90875dd91b71323e5eda2948cce753a39108ea140b64c1069f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250228120224_f8cdc6a45443f90875dd91b71323e5eda2948cce753a39108ea140b64c1069f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Enslaved Nepali migrant worker rebuilds her life Diaspora Diaries NT"> <figcaption>Sajita Lama ponders her future in the tin hut where she cooks for a living.</figcaption> </figure>  These orders come mostly from referrals and word of mouth, and I can cook single-handedly for 40-50 people. Everyone has appreciated my food, which makes me happy. My specialty is <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Thakkhola,328">Thakali food</a>. I learn <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/featured-videos/recipe-for-nepali-culinary-diversity">a lot of recipes</a> from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mobile-nepal-is-hooked-on-youtube">YouTube</a>. I have had no formal training, but I have a lot of experience from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/who-is-up-for-a-quarantine-cooking-challenge">cooking</a> for the Lebanese family. It is just that the meals I prepared there were less oily and more bland. I listen to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrating-with-the-music-of-nepal">music </a>and try to enjoy cooking, but I often have flashbacks that take me back to those 12 years in Lebanon. How could they get away without paying me anything? All the toil amounted to nothing. Here, in Nepal, people pay me by the hour or sometimes on a daily basis. There are tips. Even though it is not a lot, at least I am paid here. It was so different in Lebanon. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/you-must-be-having-so-much-fun-there">“You must be having so much fun there!”</a> Sujata Dhungana I see migrant workers who have returned to Nepal with money they have saved which they invest. I came back with nothing. In fact, I barely made it back alive. But, I am trying to move on and I have made progress. I keep myself busy, and get paid for it, and this work allows me to socialise a bit with my customers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250228120224_388d970a8354d7b83d46ec74e9dba4b96f095b29c70061732788f29531418521.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250228120224_388d970a8354d7b83d46ec74e9dba4b96f095b29c70061732788f29531418521" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Enslaved Nepali migrant worker rebuilds her life Diaspora Diaries NT"> </figure>  After returning from Lebanon I kept confusing Arabic and Nepali. By now, my Arabic has died. I weighed around 30kg when I came back and could not eat anything. Now I at least have an appetite even though I do not eat a lot. I try to forget everything about my <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">overseas experience</a>, except an ongoing legal case for back payment of my wages. I still have not received my dues. I don’t know when or if I ever will. I have been assured that such legal cases take time and I will eventually get paid.&nbsp; I am now thinking of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">migrating overseas </a>again, this time to work in a parlour or as a cook. Dubai, maybe. But with the case pending, I am hesitant to leave because what if I am needed here for official reasons pertaining to my case that require my presence? I cannot just leave and immediately come back. If I receive all my back pay, I may not even migrate. I will start a small खाजा घर, ideally an eatery near a bus park where it is busy and there is a good flow of people. I don’t have big aspirations, I will start small and expand step by step.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250228120224_16e754351fb2f593f8af1e37d9ccc7b7dd7e43b41905e68402c71709e2ffcd37.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250228120224_16e754351fb2f593f8af1e37d9ccc7b7dd7e43b41905e68402c71709e2ffcd37" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Enslaved Nepali migrant worker rebuilds her life Diaspora Diaries NT"> <figcaption>Lama also runs a catering business through Instagram.</figcaption> </figure>  I can survive on what I am doing now. But that is it, I cannot do more. At this age, I have it in me to spend a few years overseas and return to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-invest-in-nepal">invest in</a> a business. But sometimes I fear another <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Surviving-trauma,2211">traumatic experience</a>. What if things go wrong again? I still have to confront the demons inside me. Then I think, just because it happened once it does not mean it will happen again. I mostly try not to think about my time in Lebanon. One of the daughters I took care of was two-and-half years old when I got to Beirut. The other was born while I was there and I took care of her from the very next day after her birth. By the time I left, they were both grown up. My mother keeps reminding me to keep looking ahead and forget what has happened. She reminds me that there is nothing I cannot achieve. My dream, which seems unrealistic now, is to own a house in Kathmandu. I will live on the second floor and on the first floor I will take care of the poorest, the sick, those without anyone to turn to for support.&nbsp; I will feed them and take care of them. It would give me so much joy. But I do not know if I will ever achieve this dream. To help others, you first have to be in a position to help yourself. &nbsp; <h2>Diaspora Diaries #4</h2> Excerpt from <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_1104.pdf">Nepali Times, &nbsp;#1104, 25-31 March 2022</a> I first came to Lebanon when I was 18 years old. I lived in the country for 12 years as a domestic worker. Of the 12 years, I was only paid my salary for 1 year and 9 months.&nbsp; My case is unique because unlike others, I did not realise that I was being cheated through most of my stay there. I got along well with the family that I worked for. When they said they were saving up my wages in the bank, I believed them. Why would I not? They were like family, or so I thought. The idea of taking home a lump sum of money all at once was very appealing to me. After all, I had come to Lebanon to earn money to support my family back home in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250228120220_9f914904869fb85ae3b5ecd700e2e09b759bef4e9b13018a213725b14dbe7525.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250228120220_9f914904869fb85ae3b5ecd700e2e09b759bef4e9b13018a213725b14dbe7525" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NT #1104"> </figure>  Now I realise that I was too trusting, and it was naive of me to believe that we were like family. They were just exploiting me, and trying to squeeze as much work from me as possible without paying for any of it. When I had first left Nepal in 2010, I had a 5 rupee note with me given to me by my sister-in-law. I kept that red bank note with me throughout my time in Lebanon. And that is all the money I brought home with me. I have now laminated the 5 rupee note. I will not forget this Nepali money because that is all I left with, and that is all I returned with. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FbrF-iDT5jy8%3Fsi%3DFJF63RjLdv1pzSNl&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div>Watch this video prepared by the activist group This is Lebanon of Sajita Lama’s homecoming in 2022 at Kathmandu airport, and interviews with her Lebanese employers. Parts of this video may be distressing to some viewers.</div> Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Enslaved Nepali migrant worker rebuilds her life

This is the 57th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. I worked overseas for 16 years in Qatar, Dubai and Seychelles in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/good-housekeeping">housekeeping</a>. I have even been involved in the pre-opening of seven 5-star properties abroad. In 1996, I had to pay Rs35,000 to the recruiter for my Qatar job. Back then that was a lot of money, which my family could not afford. No one was able to help, perhaps because I could not convince them that I would pay them back.&nbsp; Eventually, it was my father’s friend who sold his buffalo to loan the money. I vividly remember that kind gesture. Had he not helped, I probably would not be where I am today.&nbsp; Everyone faces challenges in life, but there are very few who are pillars of support during tough times. I told my father from Qatar to let his friend pick the buffalo of his choice to repay him. I had flown out of Kathmandu, all excited, wearing a suit and tie. But the minute I got off the plane in Doha, the heat hit me and the coat came off, and the tie-knot was loosened. I immediately started thinking that I had made a mistake to go there.&nbsp; But I was lucky to get a job indoors in a hotel that had good facilities, not like many Nepalis who had to toil in the heat. I was one of the first cohorts, the first Nepali, at the Sheraton in Doha.&nbsp; Within a couple of years, there were 76 Nepalis working at the hotel. As test hires, we left a good impression on management and won their trust, which subsequently opened doors for more Nepalis.&nbsp; To be born as a Nepali means to be born to work hard and struggle. And that is what I did all those years abroad. I also wanted to advance in my career by earning a higher salary, get promoted. Now, what (अब के?) was the question I often pondered.&nbsp; While working as an attendant, I took up cross-training in my free time which prepared me for my role as a supervisor. This made me ready for the position when the right time came. I was promoted in the following years in hotels across &nbsp;<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrants-returning-from-the-gulf-with-infertility">the Gulf</a>. The highlight was to get a chance to serve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra</a> and his family who stayed at Doha Sheraton on their way back to Nepal from the UK in 1999. The royal couple chatted with us casually and asked us about our wages and job facilities, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">life overseas</a> and families back home. It felt like they were our guardians. I was in Dubai when I learnt of the royal massacre in 2001, and the memories of serving our king and queen three years previously came rushing back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025021407020_32adfd3afeff2491991abfc83adeffcb3dbb2b5cc329a5bcfa798641a0db33ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025021407020_32adfd3afeff2491991abfc83adeffcb3dbb2b5cc329a5bcfa798641a0db33ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Now, what DD 57 NT"> </figure>  When I first went to Qatar, I was raw clay, but I fell into the right hands that shaped me into a beautiful vase. The training I received along with colleagues from over a hundred nationalities gave me exposure and helped me grow. This is not just my story but the story of many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">migrants who have returned to Nepal</a>, to use the skills we gained abroad. With my savings I could build a brick house, afford better food and clothes, and invest in cars. &nbsp;These are tangible benefits. But as you earn more, your needs grow. Had I known better, I would have invested more wisely. But the skills I learnt enabled me to run Sankalpa, a facilities management business in Nepal that specialises in cleaning jobs, and provides employment to 85 workers. I had dreamt of starting something like this, but there were always reasons to postpone taking the leap.&nbsp; I was abroad for financial reasons, and there were personal challenges such as deaths in the family. But I finally decided to come back to Nepal 12 years ago and start this business.&nbsp; Initially, I had regrets about my decision to return. I had left behind a cushy Senior job with a handsome salary of AED7,500 ($2,000). After 16 years abroad, it was difficult adjusting to Nepal because working here requires you to knock at many doors, and you need connections. This can lead to much frustration, but even then I persevered. Now, I am happy with where I am at. Cleaning is not just magic, as it is often perceived; it is a science. Different chemicals and methods are required to clean various surfaces. We are raising awareness and creating demand for professional cleaning services across Nepal.&nbsp; It is important to invest in proper cleaning, not just for the longevity and cleanliness of marble, sofas, or carpets, but also for hygiene and health reasons. In my first year and a half, I did 24,000km on my bike in Kathmandu on marketing trips, knocking on door after door. It has not been easy but has its rewards, especially as I am able to provide jobs to over 80 workers.&nbsp; It is not like there are no opportunities in Nepal. There are. But it requires lots of discipline and patience, and you need to renew your energy every day. You have to have the faith that even if things don’t work out today, they will tomorrow. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/proud-to-give-back-to-nepal">Proud to give back to Nepal</a>, Prakash Katuwal&nbsp; When I was in Doha Sheraton, there was a Bangladeshi staff who at 60 years old was working at the company canteen to sustain his family back home. I remember my friend looking at him and commenting: “Our future.”&nbsp; In my mind, this stayed as a warning because I wanted to come home to my wife and children and did not want that future for myself. I had always planned to return home, the sooner the better. Sankalpa had been brewing in my head for a long time. I had to make it work here at all costs. Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Now, what?

This is the 56th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. <h2>Heera Tirwa</h2> I was just 13 when I married an India-born Nepali from Achham. &nbsp;An arranged marriage, I first saw my husband only at the wedding ceremony. I moved to India from Achham when I was so young that I associate my childhood with Mumbai instead of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100124_fcc447c7d7436ff80312e71a4cfcdbaae9610dff932ec2398c57c75eb256fa19.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250110100124_fcc447c7d7436ff80312e71a4cfcdbaae9610dff932ec2398c57c75eb256fa19" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="Heera Tirwa"> </figure>  My father, also a watchman in Maharashtra, did not visit us when my children were born despite living just a 10-hour drive away. I had to accept the fact that my mother who was in Nepal would not visit me, but my father’s absence hurt. I wrote a letter reminding him that his responsibility as a father does not end simply because he married me off. Navigating new responsibilities at such a tender age far away from home, I needed his attention. My father then visited us and lifted my spirits. Years have passed, filled with both happy and sad moments. &nbsp;Access to education, health, jobs and road networks is better here. But the cost of living is high and making ends meet is difficult, especially in single-income households. That is why I also work full time at a company that makes nuts and bolts. We are so invested in our children’s education and future that we overlook all the hurdles in life. In the old days, someone’s departure from the village to Mumbai would draw a crowd, with people asking them to deliver letters and gifts to their loved ones. This flow of people between our villages and Mumbai ensured we were up to date with news including of childbirths, marriages and deaths on either side, despite the absence of phones and internet. I still cannot believe it took me 13 years to make my first trip back to Achham from Mumbai. It was a reunion filled with tears and embraces, especially with my mother, much like my departure years ago. <h2>Chandra Singh</h2> I grew up in Doti. My mother passed away when I was around four years old, so my five siblings and I pretty much raised ourselves. Even at that age, I took care of my younger siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100128_a03c86a5cf2d7fd396d331b54114613fdd4350ec89aef8f0d150fb3ccb364369.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250110100128_a03c86a5cf2d7fd396d331b54114613fdd4350ec89aef8f0d150fb3ccb364369" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="Chandra Singh "> </figure>  I do not know exactly when I came to India from Doti, it must have been over 40 years ago. But I vividly remember weeping non-stop till I reached Dhangadi en route to Mumbai with my new family. The next time I visited Doti was years later, accompanied by my three children. My father-in-law worked as a watchman in Mumbai. My husband, who is no more, was born here and also worked as a watchman. &nbsp;Many Nepalis like my father-in-law who had permanent jobs moved their families to India. Housework including taking care of my grandchildren and elderly mother-in-law keeps me busy, but I continue to work as a part-time household help for an Indian family. I mop and wash dishes which provides me some spare cash to supplement my sons’ earnings. Back in our village in Nepal, one can rely on agriculture and livestock to sustain ourselves. There are social networks to lean on during difficult times. One can borrow or even beg. You won’t go hungry. Someone or the other will check on you. Here in the city, all you have is your hard work to rely on. You can eat only if you work hard. <h2>Kamala Tirwa</h2> I was a bright student growing up in Mahendranagar. I had completed Grade 9, and also taught adult literacy classes to women in my village, so they knew how to sign or to read letters.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100128_f98f1d4217aa5bc1e5d727d84a4a457ef9b8314dd0f4db497b8b78d07d03ae3e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250110100128_f98f1d4217aa5bc1e5d727d84a4a457ef9b8314dd0f4db497b8b78d07d03ae3e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Tirwa"> </figure>  I also spread awareness against HIV stigmatisation.These engagements exposed me to a world beyond my four walls, expanding my knowledge as I interacted with diverse people, underwent training from organisations, and taught classes. It was also fulfilling as women showed up for the classes after finishing their household chores and participated intently. To complete SLC was a big deal in our village, especially for a girl, and I was so close. But my parents decided to marry me off to an India-born Nepali at 16. I knew of him as he sometimes visited from Mumbai during his vacations and played football with the village boys. My son, who is now in his twenties, is still a baby in my eyes. I was significantly younger than him when I got married. Yet, I was expected to know how to manage a household and fulfill my responsibilities as a wife, daughter-in-law and mother. We also did not have access to tv or internet back then. Children these days are so knowledgeable. We were living in the dark age and did as we were told. Even after all these years, a part of me regrets not completing my education despite being a good student. What was the point of being studious in my circumstances? I remind people to study hard because education is such a privilege. I am invested in my sons’ education. The elder one is now doing a bachelors in AI and data science. Just as my in-laws returned to Nepal after we settled down in Mumbai, we too are considering returning to Nepal after our children are settled. <h2>Suresh Singh</h2> I cannot believe it has been 34 years since I came to Mumbai. For most of us Nepalis, जन्मभुमी (land of birth) and कर्मभुमी (land of work) are two separate geographies. Like my father, I worked as a watchman. My grandfather, too, worked in Mumbai in a mill.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250110100128_d3ca3227f428b8711ab76f617deab6e74df2302f2715a6a489512f5fb2b51067.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250110100128_d3ca3227f428b8711ab76f617deab6e74df2302f2715a6a489512f5fb2b51067" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Singh"> </figure>  I am now the Security Head, the highest position at my company. The city provides opportunities for those willing to seize them. In my case, I should have used the time outside my 8-hour shifts to complete my education or take skills-based training so I could be competitive in the labor market. The realisation that education is important came late to many of us. My wife was back in Achham, while I worked in Mumbai. She passed away when my son was just one-and-a-half years old. It was difficult to comprehend the news, and I rushed back. I forced authorities to let me on the flight from Tikapur. I was going to leave anyhow, even if it meant having to stand on top of the plane. Grief can make you act in strange ways. In my white clothes, shell-shocked and filled with raw emotions, I must have been quite the sight. They eventually provided me with a seat. My mother raised my son until he reached five, after which I brought him to Mumbai. As a single parent, I don’t think I was able to provide him the kind of guidance that is needed during children’s formative years. Work obligations to provide for him often took precedence. Thankfully, he grew up just fine. He recently left his secure banking career to start his venture in digital advertising. He does not have any memory of his mother. We don’t have a single photo of her.&nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

The tale of four Nepalis in Mumbai

In the black and white photograph, General Wangdu smiles broadly in front of the dusty cactus garden in Kathmandu’s Annapurna Hotel. With an ill-fitting jacket and shaggy hair he looks benign enough, but this was the last leader of the Tibetan freedom fighters who led the resistance against the Chinese from their remote mountain hideouts in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Mustang</a>. Five months later, Wangdu was dead. Snapped in March 1974, I had only recently arrived in Nepal. How did I meet this legendary fighter? Possibly with his devoted camp follower, Lynne Klapecki, and probably in the Om Restaurant near Freak Street which was the preferred <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hippie-trail-nostalgia-in-kathmandu">hippie hang-out</a>. Om Lobsang and his brother Yeshe were <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/earthquake-brings-back-memories-of-camps-for-tibetan-refugees">refugees from East Tibet </a>whose cafe offered a friendly welcome and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/momo-loco"> the best momos</a> - they became my in-laws after I married their eldest brother Tenzin, but that was a decade later.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1583" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption> </figure>  Wangdu’s English was enthusiastically rudimentary, but even riding around town with him on the back of an aging <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-new-motorbike-museum">motorbike</a>, he was a commanding presence. Always flanked by armed outriders, impressive scars marked his forearms and a pistol hung from the cord around his neck. A charismatic guerrilla leader, Wangdu was celebrated by his followers for his tough commitment and respected for his measured pragmatism. He seemed so young to have shouldered such a responsibility of command, leading hundreds of hardened <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/50-years-after-the%20raid-into-Tibet,1012#google_vignette">Khampa combatants </a>through what had been a particularly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/heavy-snowfall-over-nepal-himalaya">brutal winter in Mustang</a>, the last bastion to hold out against the Chinese invasion of their Tibetan homeland.&nbsp; The freedom fighters of Tibet, known as the Chushi-Gangdruk, had emerged to resist the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/territorialism">Chinese takeover</a> of Tibet during the 1950s. Estimated to be 80,000-strong at the time of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-or-who-after-the-dalai-lama">the Dalai Lama</a>’s final escape to India in 1959, the sheer number of Chinese deployed into Tibet eventually forced the Chushi-Gangdruk to retreat to Mustang, From this high Himalayan stronghold, they continued cross-border raids on the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) throughout the 1960s.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="676" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Guerrillas known as the Chushi-Gangdruk emerged to resist the Chinese annexation of Tibet during the 1950s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>  Their Kathmandu base was a small discreet lodge in a back lane near Rani Pokhari. Sipping sweet tea from a blue mug with a chipped lid, I sat bemused in a corner of the Mustang Hotel room whilst Wangdu and his cohorts received a battered brown suitcase from their CIA connection, a tousle-haired American in a leather jacket. Heaved onto the dingy bedspread that covered the thin mattress, it was clicked open to reveal piles of neatly stacked dollar bills.&nbsp; I cannot think why Wangdu allowed me to witness this handover but I was clearly no threat, a newly arrived world traveller with no understanding of the stakes nor any Nepali or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tibetan-music-in-nepals-sacred-valley">Tibetan language</a>. Despite armed guards in the corridor,Wangdu radiated confidence and bravado, and there was a practiced familiarity to the tense transaction. This deadly dance for many years had been funded by the Americans, tolerated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-kingdom-within-a-republic">Mustang’s residents</a>, and permitted by King Mahendra and the Nepali authorities who it suited to turn a blind eye.&nbsp; But Mahendra died in 1972, and times were changing. Richard Nixon’s ping-pong diplomacy thawed the cold war and signalled a fresh entente with China. Nepal’s yet-to-be-crowned <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy">King Birendra </a>was under pressure to curb the irritating incursions against the PLA launched from the Nepali territory of Mustang. Keen to appease his northern neighbour, on several occasions the King summoned Wangdu for peace talks but, despite increasingly overwhelming odds, Wangdu refused to surrender.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1055" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>General Wangdu flanked by two Tibetan resistance fighters in Mustang in the 1970s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1044" height="792" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>King Birendra with General Wangdu (right in dark glasses) taken in 1974 possibly in Mustang after one of their few attempts at negotiation. Photo courtesy: RAJRNDRA KUNWAR</figcaption> </figure>  While I naively rode pillion around Kathmandu in the spring sunshine, Wangdu was in the midst of what turned out to be his final round of negotiations with the Nepal government. Refusing to cease hostilities with the Chinese, Wangdu must have suspected the cost of his decision, making his cheerful smile in the photograph all the more poignant and brave. It was only much later that I appreciated the significance of the moment. Wangdu had been sent to replace the first resistance leader in Mustang, Baba Gen Yeshe, a much derided corrupt character who stole money meant for his troops and exploited fleeing refugees by seizing their treasures. Baba Gen Yeshe never forgave Wangdu,and sought revenge in May 1974 by betraying him and his commanders to the Nepal authorities. Renewed Chinese incursions from the north, active PLA collusion with the Nepali forces under the new King, and treachery from within the Chushi-Gangdrukranks combined to seal their fate.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="769" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>British television journalists George Patterson and Adrian Cowell embedded themselves with Khampa guerrillas and accompanied them from Tsum Valley on a cross border raid on a Chinese Army convoy in 1964. Photo: ESSAYS ON NEPAL / SAM COWAN</figcaption> </figure>  Mikel Dunham, renowned author of Buddha’s Warriors, writes: ‘It is possible that Wangdu was waiting for some cue from the Dalai Lama’s government-in-exile in Dharamsala, India. It is equally possible – during that last, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-human-cost-of-nepal-s-yarsa-gold-rush?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR31-Cqw8oyIwMPzf_35e4Skr0ululJvLf3_vDkzHn-AYG2h8uPw2rqqErg_aem_tGVn5coY1-jA7fze_xqhew">desolate winter </a>– that he made the decision to go out in glory rather than admit defeat. Over the last fifteen years, Wangdu had experienced Tibet’s organized resistance being squeezed and shoved around by every conceivable outside force.&nbsp; First they had been pushed out of their own country by the PLA; then they had been refused sanction while on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/nepal-india-trans-boundary-bonds?fbclid=IwAR0PpJ5zUEbwdug3g_U3ar6FUugngRY0S8Tl2v_7wqzrsHmXWcXsKjvL4t4">Indian soil</a>; then they were abandoned by the Americans because, apparently, Nixon wanted to make friends with Wangdu’s mortal enemies, the communists; then they had been betrayed by the vampiric Baba Gen Yeshe – a Tibetan and, even worse, a fellow Khampa; and now, finally Wangdu’s army was being evicted by the Nepalis. One thing was certain: Wangdu was a warrior. To imagine Wangdu simply giving up and settling down in the pacific squalor of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp">refugee camp </a>was unthinkable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="746" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>The much derided Baba Gen Yeshe, the first Tibetan resistance leader in Mustang, who betrayed Wangdu for personal gain. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="656" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Aditya SJB Rana of the Royal Nepal Army whose team ambushed Wangdu and his cohorts at the top of Tinker Pass in Darchula, West Nepal. Photo courtesy: GAUTAM SJB RANA</figcaption> </figure>  By August 1974 the game was up. Wangdu and six of his exhausted party were killed on their horses by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7270">the Royal Nepal Army</a> on the brink of escape. The officer in charge, Aditya SJB Rana, cleverly predicted their route into India after they failed to silence a police radio in Yari. A carefully laid ambush trapped them near the summit of the Tinker Pass in Darchula,at 5,000 meters the highest military operation of its time. Wangdu’s body was helicoptered to Kathmandu, and a big show made of the royal Nepal victory.&nbsp; The Tibetan armed insurgency against China had reached its end.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_23" data-image-id="20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> </figure>

The Last Days of the Khampa

Starting 17 September Turkish Airlines will fly daily to Seville, one of Spain’s major tourist draws. This is Turkish’s sixth destination in Spain after Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, Malaga, and Bilbao. Seville is in the Andalusia region on Spain’s south coast with a rich Moor history. There are approximately 30,000 Nepalis living in Spain.&nbsp;

Turkish to Seville

The newly-formed Himalayan Art Council is set to launch Nepal’s National Art Protection Platform that seeks to preserve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage">Nepal’s unique cultural heritage </a>using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/artificial-censorship"> AI-powered tools</a>. The Council seeks to safeguard <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-art-going-places">Nepali art works</a> from neglect, theft and counterfeiting as well as preserve existing artwork and celebrate living masters by giving them a cultural space to continue the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/sacred-survival">sacred art traditions</a>. "We are introducing a new digital platform designed to preserve, verify and elevate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-new-generation-of-alternative-artists">Nepal’s art for generations to come,</a>” says a statement from the Council, adding that the digital platform will use AI told for authentication and blockchain to keep track of works of art. Artists can now be protected by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/ayo-ai?fbclid=IwAR1uwmTVq4gUB70ljfRezjzukD9ArWXPuMnUikopeQ8PoiZMjicToPSwhKE&amp;=1">AI tools</a> that detect forgeries, identify their work even when unsigned, and ensure they receive proper recognition and credit. The archives will be searchable with translated inscription and interactive guides. Says curator Meena Lama: “AI and blockchains are tools that give us the power to detect fakes and identify unsigned paintings and track every piece. With these tools we can restore trust, secure authorship and give artists the dignity they deserve.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250514170544_2ab58f6313c0458f75114a692b0016bd9efb3b59d5f8f07f0da72e1e37b82f53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250514170544_2ab58f6313c0458f75114a692b0016bd9efb3b59d5f8f07f0da72e1e37b82f53" data-rendition-name="original" width="1300" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Artwork at the Traditional Art Exhibition at Patan Museum."> <figcaption>Artwork at the Traditional Art Exhibition at Patan Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  The Council is also holding an exhibition of Nepali cultural masterpieces with 50 historical <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-the-art,671">thangka and paubha </a>by past masters and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">contemporary works by current artists</a>. This curated collection is a living tribute to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">Himalayan culture</a> with economic depictions of deities, mandala and sacred narratives. The exhibition at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present">Patan Museum</a> also provides an opportunity to meet painters and custodians of art and culture. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/golden-deities">Golden deities</a>, Sewa Bhattarai ‘The exhibition is only the first step in a long journey to ensure that Nepali art is no just seen but fully understood, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Narratives-of-Faith-and-Memory-Remembering-the-Lost-Sculptures-of-Kathmandu-exhibition,987">protected and remembered</a>,’ the Council says. Artist Kailash K Shrestha of Artudio has spent decades promoting thankha and paubha traditions because of their beauty and devotional meaning. But he also says artists are underpaid, exploited and ignored. He adds, “AI and blockchain are not just buzzwords, they are powerful tools that can protect Nepal’s artists from fraud, verify authenticity and build a permanent record of provenance.” Traditional Art Exhibition Till 17 May Patan Museum

Digital protection for Nepal’s art

<a href="https://www.instagram.com/prabalgurung/" target="_blank">Prabal Gurung</a> left Nepal for New York in 1999 to escape years of bullying, sexism and homophobia, and to pursue his dream of becoming a fashion designer. He <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqN0VaoAI5w" target="_blank">realised his dream</a>, but did not escape discrimination and racism in the new world. Propelled by passion for fashion, Gurung overcame everything America threw at him. He has attained <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/style/story/prabal-gurung-recalls-his-first-met-gala-when-zoe-saldana-was-at-his-side?srsltid=AfmBOooy-H0oGgxMit864FnW_Pmw8mUnV8rYrh-co-f6OyYK6m2ip5hP" target="_blank">fame and recognition</a> for his haute couture dress designs while remaining true to his Nepali roots, and is even more resolute in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSmNauyzACk" target="_blank">fighting prejudice</a> in all its forms. Prabal Gurung’s newly-released memoir <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Audible-Walk-Like-Girl-Memoir/dp/B0DG11HCDQ?fbclid=IwY2xjawKZfpxleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHuZcIJO2OXyXcRm1oq1iG6wzeoF7VJFrQ7GXOFI0YxuZZ4id_CNvSZSZZIna_aem_pG_mOKG73RTnYvN8JaC4fA">Walk Like a Girl</a> is a saga of harrowing abuse in boarding schools in Nepal and India, only finding himself facing a different kind of bullying in the US. He prevails over it all to be where he is today: an award-winning American fashion designer with his own label. Walk Like a Girl was launched last week in New York at a time when everything Gurung fought for — tolerance, inclusion and diversity — are in retreat in his adopted country because of a president who has espoused a culture of bullying. The book is a searing, raw exposé of how cruel and abusive people can be even at a young age in school. On the other hand, it also shows that there are generous, compassionate and open-minded souls out there. In his book, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4le_uWX7YE">Prabal Gurung</a> calls out those who tormented and tried to hold him back (some of their names have been altered). The moral of his story is: resist, never stop believing in yourself, do not let others define you, never lose sight of your dream, and help those who have been kept out. “Walk like a girl” was a slur used by bullies back in school in Nepal and India for Gurung’s effeminate ways. He fought back then, and he is still resisting by turning those words into something to be proud of.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170544_4ffc9c3f565dd2cfa754d10b224816897b82bb31ebaee91b6d79d469fc96f14e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250519170544_4ffc9c3f565dd2cfa754d10b224816897b82bb31ebaee91b6d79d469fc96f14e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1253" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Prabal Gurung at home in Kathmandu in the 1990s.</figcaption> </figure>  “Living through it all was one thing, but writing about it is one of the hardest things I have done in my life,” admitted Gurung during the launch. “I broke down constantly during the six-year writing process.” He continues: “I did not want this to be a victim’s book. I did not want to burden my readers with my emotions. I wanted my struggle to be an inspiration for others facing what I faced. I am grateful to those who bullied me in school, they made me a stronger person ready to face the world.” Indeed, this book is a departure from his earlier one titled simply, Prabal Gurung (Abrams, 2019), which was a lush pictorial autobiography of his career in fashion. Walk Like a Girl is not a typical fashion book, it is an intimate tale of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16997">Gurung’s travails and triumphs</a>, and how he willed himself to succeed. Prabal pays a lavish tribute to his mother Durga Rana. We find out she is a descendant of the first wife of the eldest son of Jang Bahadur Rana who was banished to Palpa in the late 19th century. Prabal’s father served in the Singapore Police and that is where he was born before the family returned to Nepal when he was four. Gurung relates with brutal honesty about the violence his mother endured from his father. Durga raises three children as a single mother in Nepal, and Prabal credits her for his fierce determination to resist patriarchy and injustice, which in time manifests itself in his hyper-feminine and subversive dress designs. Writing the book has been a cathartic experience for Gurung, who says he is now relieved of the burdens of his past. It no longer haunts him, and he does not have to prove anything to anyone anymore. Walk Like a Girl has life lessons not just for the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DJmOcSgxdWz/" target="_blank">fashion industry</a>, but for every other profession. How can my job serve a greater cause? Gurung tells us his work is <a href="https://asiasociety.org/blog/asia/why-designer-prabal-gurung-doesnt-want-just-stick-fashion" target="_blank">bigger than just making clothes</a>, it is about making the world a better place because it could do with a lot of improvement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170544_d75296ad8bfdc00d88935f40d23543c6fea3d4d6a10e61a99d6cfc6127f2ee5b.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250519170544_d75296ad8bfdc00d88935f40d23543c6fea3d4d6a10e61a99d6cfc6127f2ee5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1516" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung"> </figure>  This story of chasing the American dream may sound familiar to many immigrants: knocking on doors for jobs, rejections, trying to survive from day to day on expensive rent, and dealing with subtle racism in white America. Gurung finds racism is rife, and he is often mockingly called ‘gaysian’. He writes: ‘There was a strong hypocrisy — this idea of independence felt like a marketting ruse … and for all the talk of feminism in America, these high society women were trapped by the patriarchy just like in Nepal and India.’ After a trek to the Khumbu region in 2013, Gurung is inspired to use the colours, palette and textures of Nepal for his collection exhibited on Manhattan’s 8th Avenue. A major buyer tells him bluntly: “Stick to making pretty dresses … if I need to see a collection like this, I could buy a copy of National Geographic.” The New York Times was equally dismissive: ‘The designer tries to draw connections between blistered techo-fabric used to construct it and the topography of his homeland, Nepal. But, at the moment, he has lost his map.’ One potential investor tells Gurung he cannot design for Americana because “you do not look American”. Gurung wants to use expletives, but restrains himself. After a fundraiser in New York for the Nepal earthquake in 2015, some belittled his effort, saying: “Here comes the saviour."&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/prabal-gurung-by-prabal-gurung">Prabal Gurung by Prabal Gurung</a>, Kunda Dixit The Gurkha DNA must be dominant in Prabal Gurung’s genes because he does not take such mistreatment lying down. When asked by a fashion publicist why he was designing clothes for fat people, he snaps back: “Because of people like you.” He joins the Black Lives Matter and #MeToo movements, launches the Shikshya Foundation charity in Nepal, and has powerful allies among celebrities who wear clothes he designed: Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Sara Jessica Parker, Kamala Harris, Deepika Padukone … it is a long list.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519150556_48a5f4211991a23fa85b64bbd5377575ca7081d97309d7542035591dda5180fe.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250519150556_48a5f4211991a23fa85b64bbd5377575ca7081d97309d7542035591dda5180fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="1534" loading="lazy" alt="Being Prabal Gurung by design"> <figcaption>Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie wearing Atelier Prabal Gurung’s design for Met Gala 2025 in which the theme was ‘Superfine: Tailoring Black Style’. </figcaption> </figure>  “I don’t dress women to look beautiful, they already are,” Gurung says. “I try to bring out their innate strength and grace.” <a href="https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/17908766880140171/" target="_blank">Admirers</a> tell Gurung he makes it all look so easy, but he used to put up a strong facade to not show his own vulnerabilities in public. “I was closed because of my childhood experiences,” he says. “I was always on guard to defend myself because I never knew where the next punch would come from.” But in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPVepzPA210" target="_blank">Walk Like a Girl,</a> Gurung comes to terms with his vulnerability, and bares his soul. It has not been easy, it took sustained will power and support from his mother, sister Kumudini and a circle of close friends. “I made unbelonging my power,” he says. “Nepal is where I still have my heart and soul. Nepal grounds you. It is where people go to find themselves. But I escaped.” Recently appointed vice-chair of the <a href="https://cfda.com/about-cfda" target="_blank">Council of American Fashion Designers</a>, Gurung says: “I can’t believe I am here, it feels like it is happening to someone else. Writing this book, the healing has finally begun.” <h2>‘Everything is better in color’</h2> The Met Gala was two weeks later, and my table was an example of everything I’d been fighting for all these years as my guests represented everything I believed in: dynamic, powerful, influential women who were unapologetically original and unabashedly graceful. I was grateful to Anna for inviting me to host and dress a table that reflected my ethos—and for her guidance in doing so. I was also aware of the privilege as one of the first-­ever Asian fashion designers—not just from Nepal, but from the entire continent— to get the opportunity to do so. That fact was not lost on me. I reached out beyond the expected Hollywood celebrities and well-­known socialites to curate a table of exceptional women who inspired me. I invited Deepika Padukone and Alia Bhatt for their first-­ever Met Galas, as well as Michelle Yeoh, Mindy Kaling, Camila Cabello, Ashley Park, Denée Benton, KiKi Layne, Quannah Chasinghorse, and Grace Elizabeth. Together we checked many boxes: Asian, Black, Latinx, and Indigenous, each woman undeniably chic and powerful, a dazzling array of skin tones and experiences that proved my decades‑in‑the-­making hypothesis: everything is better in color. Excerpt from Walk Like a Girl Viking © 2025 by Prabal Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170520_6b91d560e9f072c37d16876901058c073a51ffa05e7ad1b9461d19e1c9c28215.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250519170520_6b91d560e9f072c37d16876901058c073a51ffa05e7ad1b9461d19e1c9c28215" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung book details NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170520_345240c21be400e2ce2ec629b52bd82bb53890e5bd86fe95b48340d84b5f1748.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250519170520_345240c21be400e2ce2ec629b52bd82bb53890e5bd86fe95b48340d84b5f1748" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung book details NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;