This is the 48th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Growing up in Lamjung, I had a very humble childhood. I helped my mother with household chores, and in the fields. My father wanted me to follow his path and join the Indian Army, but after two months at the Gorkha Training Centre in Shillong with its huge billboard that said ‘Do or Die’, I was put off and returned to Nepal.&nbsp; I was in awe walking around the streets of &nbsp;Kathmandu. I used to go to Bishal Bazaar just to practice taking the lift. My curiosity about how things worked, and surfing the net helped keep me updated. I tried to run a café while attending college. But Nepalis had not yet developed a taste for brewed coffee, so my café failed. I also could not continue my studies, so like everyone else going abroad, I left for the UAE in 2004 to work. My brother, who worked as a driver in the UAE, got me a job as a rope access worker in charge of cleaning windows on tall buildings. We first practiced in a two storied building in Dubai, and would be drenched in sweat. I got my license but on a job to clean the façade of a skyscraper, my knees shook as I dangled 48-floors above the ground.&nbsp; What I had learnt on the ground did not amount to much hanging on a rope up there on a high rise. It got better with practice, and it helped that my supervisors were Nepalis who got me acclimatised to the height, so I felt safe.&nbsp; I spent over a decade in the UAE but do not remember much from that period. Work-pay-work-pay, it was a cycle. The kindness of strangers has stayed with me. Some residents on the high floors would offer us fruits as we dangled outside their windows. Small gestures, but they are etched in my memory. I have helped set up the fireworks display on Burj Khalifa and cleaned seven-star hotels, but when my company set up a new oil and gas division in 2005, I asked for an internal transfer in the inspection and engineering department. We got trained in non-destructive testing (NDT), which I enjoyed a lot and excelled in. I took courses in visual, ultrasound and magnetic particle inspections, and found a sense of deep fulfilment in learning new things. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/sky-is-the-limit-for-nepali-chef-in-bahrain">Sky is the limit for Nepali chef in Bahrain</a>, Sanjay Lama Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_fc8c6c1b2d8dab2c07f75c56d819ae566fbdcee047cf568a52adb95c2ede032f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023120902120_fc8c6c1b2d8dab2c07f75c56d819ae566fbdcee047cf568a52adb95c2ede032f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1211" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  Work offshore used to be round the clock. I missed the sense of freedom one feels on firm ground, even though all amenities were provided on board. I still remember how the most rewarding feeling was seeing my name on the list in the control room near the helipad with home leave dates when the chopper would come to airlift us out every month.&nbsp; It was the best feeling in the world, but for the first few days we would still feel like the floor was moving. We had got so used to being at sea.&nbsp; The paid monthly leave was unique among migrant workers. I made sure not to waste time, and used to go to India to take more courses to upgrade my skills. I could not continue my formal education because of my personal circumstances, but I had no excuse not to invest in learning new things.&nbsp; I had the desire to achieve something, and the training was part of advancing my career. Taking formal classes honed my theoretical understanding of the work right from the fundamentals.&nbsp; Given the absence of Nepalis in the management in the oil and gas sector, there was a preference for other nationalities in promotions. Despite meeting roadblocks every step of the way, I did overcome them and moved up the ranks.&nbsp; I had a starting salary of AED900, but by the time I left the UAE a decade later, I was earning AED20,000 ($5,500) a month. After ten years in the UAE including one year in Qatar with the same company, it was time for a change.&nbsp; I tried resigning three times, but was offered better benefits so decided to stay on. But after the third time, I had made my mind. My resignation letter said, ‘I am leaving for my personal betterment.’ It was not for financial reasons, I just knew it was time for a change. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind">Nepal on my mind</a>, Ishwar Chaulagain  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_b259140354429fdda3d4aaf327da94a87300a435d89a29762cbef9ec3dc7e0c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023120902120_b259140354429fdda3d4aaf327da94a87300a435d89a29762cbef9ec3dc7e0c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1141" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  I applied for a job in Nigeria in 2012, and was thrilled to be offered $450 per day for a five month contract. My boss then offered me a longer term contract, and I stuck around in Nigeria for three more years. During my last year, I even helped the company start a training wing and worked as a trainer.&nbsp; The oil crisis of 2015 slowed things down. Oil prices fell from $125 to $25 per barrel, and although my employer asked me to stay on with salary, I left. Nepal was calling.&nbsp; I started my own Industrial Rope Access Trade Association (IRATA) certified training company, Asset Integrity Group, in Kathmandu in 2016. We provide training in rope access, spray painting, welding, rigging and non-destructive testing.&nbsp; I had no guidance in my career choices, I just followed my instincts. I try to be a good mentor to Nepalis interested in this field even though what I earn here does not compare to what I was used to overseas.&nbsp; But there is a different kind of joy in the training and even the respect I get from my students. Nepalis in the rope access sector renew their licenses or upgrade to the next level at my centre, and many are working in the Gulf. A handful of Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and Indians have also come to Kathmandu, where I have trained and licensed them as we are an internationally accredited centre and cost less than elsewhere. Our offer to them is that they not only get cheaper training, they also will get to visit our beautiful country.&nbsp; Luckily, I know enough people in the industry worldwide who hire me for short-term gigs like protective coating services in the oil and gas sector. I have worked in Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia where I spend a few months every year. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/money-is-not-everything-but-you-need-money-for-everything">"Money is not everything, but you need money for everything"</a>, Rohit Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_761d1f46b408f2d199a5d0375df8702a5987a948b61df03eacbe2d9a8b18a219.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023120902120_761d1f46b408f2d199a5d0375df8702a5987a948b61df03eacbe2d9a8b18a219" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  My travels allow me to offer similar opportunities to fellow Nepalis. Three Nepalis, for example, joined me in Nigeria. My international colleagues are often surprised to hear that I am from a landlocked country with no oil industry. I myself wonder sometimes how I got here. I tell them: “I learned and earned.” &nbsp; Nepalis in my field know me as Rudra Dai their mentor, who follows their progress even after training. My foreign friends call me Ruddy. Ruddy’s occasional gigs makes Rudra Dai’s work sustainable. In a way, I have the best of both worlds.&nbsp; It is not easy, of course. We have to meet strict IRATA standards to pass audits. At our training center, we simulate different scenarios such as in civil and marine rope access work. We also provide on-the-job training so students can practice what they learn. There are more complex courses like industrial painting. Additional training for painting or welding inspection combined with rope access training could contribute to boosting earnings.&nbsp; Many Nepalis still go overseas to earn just $300 USD monthly. I wish they understood that there are also opportunities that offer much higher salaries if they got training. It cannot be any training; it has to be recognised and valued overseas as well. In rope access, where safety is paramount and licensing requirements are mandatory, just a short training can open up higher salaries, new sectors and upward mobility, as the demand for workers in this field is growing.&nbsp; This model would work best if employers themselves were also involved. But Nepali employers do not prioritise occupational health and safety, and training. They just want cheap labour. Overseas companies also hesitate to invest in training workers especially as they have trouble retaining them, and there are competitors who offer small salary mark-ups.&nbsp; I have come a long way from dangling with shaky knees on a rope off a high rise in Dubai. When I meet young migrant workers on leave in Nepal, I see myself 15 years ago. I used to go to India to get myself trained, now I am glad to say I can offer such training in Nepal itself. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya">From retail to selling chiya</a>, Gautam Guvaju Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

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Migrant worker teaches others the ropes

This is the 47th instalment of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When I first went overseas in 2005 as a kitchen help to Bahrain, I had just one goal: to save Rs200,000 so I could return to Nepal and start a small business like a cold store. &nbsp; Nearly 20 years later, I am still overseas. The years have just flown by.&nbsp; When I had first started applying to migrate for work, I got rejected in many interviews because of my poor English. I was close to giving up, but instead enrolled myself for language training.&nbsp; And it paid off. I was the last interviewee in a recruitment drive for a Bahrain-based job, but got selected. When I first saw the vacancy in the newspaper, I did not know where Bahrain was. I had heard of Dubai, Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but not Bahrain.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231123101124_37b1ba3da8af8f5e5448d049083827b68366859b0d8165ccfb8e02da4e8d6efd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231123101124_37b1ba3da8af8f5e5448d049083827b68366859b0d8165ccfb8e02da4e8d6efd" data-rendition-name="original" width="525" height="700" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 47"> </figure>  After a few years there, I did manage to save my first two lakhs, but then I wanted the next two. And so it went on. As we work and earn, our dreams grow. And there are no limits to our dreams. You buy land back in Nepal, and after some time overseas, manage to build a one-storied house. You build the first storey, and then think why not add another floor. Once the house is done, it’s time to start thinking about the children’s future. There is no end, really. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan My starting salary in Bahrain was Rs12,000. Now I am a chef earning over 33 times the amount. My specialisation is in French and Italian cuisine at a high end restaurant but with an Arabic twist for the palate of our customers. I manage over 35 kitchen staff from Asia and Africa.&nbsp; At peak hours, the kitchen can get quite chaotic and loud, but I am also at my best under pressure and try to create a fun environment for my team. My base is in Bahrain, but I am currently in Saudi Arabia temporarily setting up a new outlet for the same employer. One of the reasons for my involvement in the Saudi outlet is that many of the new staff are from Nepal so my employer figured it would be easier for me to train and motivate them.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina Before leaving Nepal, I dreamed of joining the army but it got complicated when I used to get questioned in my village, including from my friends who had joined the Maoists. They gave me a hard time.&nbsp; I lied at a canteen that I had prior experience working in restaurants. I kept making mistakes and did not even know how to cut vegetables the right way. I used to say “this is how we used to do it at my old restaurant” and cut carrots without peeling them or putting random spices in noodles. I got away with it. My first mentor in one of the restaurants was a Dubai returnee who trained me. &nbsp; In my years away, I have come home twice intending to stay. My sacrifices and effort working night and day has earned me the trust of my employers so I could tell them that I will go home, try out something and if it does not work out, I will return. And I did return, and they welcomed me back. When you prove yourself at work and build good relationships, doors remain open.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231123101140_ff3a1b3424a4ea61fa941f967ed4b30bca5af18ced066e319252ec62098be33d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231123101140_ff3a1b3424a4ea61fa941f967ed4b30bca5af18ced066e319252ec62098be33d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="diaspora diaries 47"> </figure>  Switching jobs also improves your bargaining power and employment benefits, either by your original employer who will match the new offer or the new employer who will try to attract you with better benefits. I have jumped from Bahrain to Qatar and back to Bahrain over the years, and these added to the benefits. Despite what I have achieved, I know that I have missed out a lot in life by being away. True happiness is at home, where my family is. That will never change, no matter how much time I spend away.&nbsp; I first left Nepal when my wife was pregnant with my eldest daughter. It was a time when photos were exchanged over letters and phone calls were expensive and difficult to arrange. I wasn’t there to hold my wife’s hand during those months. Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin I made up for it partially when my son was born eight years later. I could at least go home for the delivery. My daughter will go abroad for her education when she finishes high school next year. By the time I return to Nepal, she will have left to pursue her own dreams. Once she is abroad, I will pass on the baton to her and she will help bring her younger brother to wherever she is. That a family like mine can dream of sending children for overseas education is a testament of our sacrifices. But then you miss all important milestones in life. I could have brought my family to Bahrain but my work schedule is so busy that I would not be able to give them enough time. I have come a long way since my days as a kitchen help. But if someone were to make a movie of my life, it wouldn’t be of my professional journey but rather a story about separation and sacrifices. About not being able to give my family the quality time they deserved.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231123101124_e67381d1bdc348ac5d675eb569b2c802ac9abb0042eb4c8491cb38e7112594bf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231123101124_e67381d1bdc348ac5d675eb569b2c802ac9abb0042eb4c8491cb38e7112594bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 47"> </figure>  Ours is a generation of sacrifices. And we were born at a time and in a country where it feels impossible to balance time with family with earning money. There are festivals that you miss because you are away from home. But there are also times when work keeps you so busy that you even forget that it is Dasain back home. &nbsp; Many Nepalis have done well across the Gulf including in the hospitality sector by proving themselves with their hard work and loyalty despite not having formal education or language skills. &nbsp; Youth these days have it a lot easier, young Nepalis are better educated and have English. But it is your skills, work experience and performance at work that matters most. As an interviewer who is involved in recruitment drives now, I have learnt to look beyond English skills or CVs to identify genuinely hard-working people eager to learn and grow.&nbsp; Many newcomers these days are in a rush for overnight success and promotions and get easily disheartened, but it is a process, a journey. With luck, hard work, and patience success will come.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind">Nepal on my mind</a>, Ishwar Chaulagain I do not think my story is that remarkable. I am a simple Nepali who worked hard and made personal sacrifices, and things fell into place. I was good at grabbing opportunities that came my way. I think that most people who stick to their craft continuously for years will eventually get good at it.&nbsp; Everything might not work out as we plan or hope, but something or other inevitably will. That is my mantra, to give it my all without worrying too much about results. In fact, I try not to worry about anything at all. &nbsp;&nbsp; Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Sky is the limit for Nepali chef in Bahrain

This is the 46th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. During my first job in Qatar as a waiter it was clear that my lack of proper English would make it difficult for me to be promoted to front-office positions.&nbsp; There were Filipino, East European and Indian colleagues across the Gulf who came from much better backgrounds, had more polished English and could present themselves much better. So for my second stint overseas, this time in a luxury hotel in Kuwait, I opted for back-end jobs in food and safety hygiene. I figured my linguistic weakness would not hold me back.&nbsp; I had learnt the English alphabet only in Grade 4 by the flickering light of an oil lamp in my village in Bhojpur. I dropped out of school so my siblings could study. I grew up helping my parents with household chores and farming, school was never a priority. Later, I worked as a lab boy in the biology departments of high schools in Nepal. Like everyone else, I chose foreign employment to improve my family’s living standard, Nepali wages were just not enough.&nbsp; I had the grit, ability to work hard and knowledge of my field, but it would be lack of communication skills that would hold me back in the hospitality sector. Now, many years later, I have reached managerial positions in luxury hotels overseas. As part of a support department for kitchen and service, we are responsible for inventory, cleaning, sanitisation, store organisation and calibration of all equipment and ensure that they meet the highest hygiene standards. I manage 40-45 staff from different countries. But I may not have achieved all this had I insisted on getting front-end jobs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_8eb359ad4cec1b47f26a7b0ba8b0e343b33374e4c3b0e95dbf005592ea69576d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20231104041124_8eb359ad4cec1b47f26a7b0ba8b0e343b33374e4c3b0e95dbf005592ea69576d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1288" height="725" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 4"> </figure>  After working in Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and Seychelles, I am once again headed back to Kuwait to work as a stewarding manager. I will be earning $2,100 (KWD 650) a month with additional benefits. My foreign employment did not start well, it must be said. I left Nepal in 2007, to work in Qatar as a busboy. My salary was just $110 (QAR 400) then. I was cheated by the recruitment agent who made me sign a fake contract, but I could not go back to Nepal. The supply company placed me in the catering section of a gas firm, and even though the salary was below what was promised it gave me a solid foundation in my area of work.&nbsp; Since then, I have worked in luxury hotels in multiple countries, but the hygiene standards in the oil and gas sector in Qatar were superior. For us overseas migrant workers, it is important to manage our time and finances and think about the long term. Such planning requires constant reminders of why we are here, who we have left behind and that working abroad is temporary.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_f7fc4b99bb5a64da56fceb65096cf0d366873e93b45a472aa8751d6f54a6ffa7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231104041124_f7fc4b99bb5a64da56fceb65096cf0d366873e93b45a472aa8751d6f54a6ffa7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 1"> </figure>  It is easy to splurge when there is cash without thinking of the future. Overlooking exercise or proper eating habits can affect our health in the long term. One day, we will have to return, leaving all this behind with no social protection for future security. My friends and I often wonder what we can do once we return to Nepal. One option that fits our background that might also have scope in Nepal’s hospitality sector is to train and supply hotel workers. But that means leaving a well-paying, stable job for an uncertain entrepreneurial journey in Nepal. We have been away so long that it does carry immense risks. It is this uncertainty that keeps us renewing our contracts, or looking for a better job in another country. The new generation of Nepalis who come to the Gulf or elsewhere are not limited as we were. The youth migrating now have it easier, they are better educated and already have degrees in hospitality management. They also have better exposure and language skills, and this is an advantage. But ultimately, it does boil down to job performance. One of my early memories of being overseas is being formally recognised as Colleague of the Year among a staff of 900. This was a turning point in my career that gave me the positivity and energy to work harder and dream bigger. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_46369189939b8bfd7be4f8c0d1913cac6415d06268bb454cbbbf7bbd1a83ee0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231104041124_46369189939b8bfd7be4f8c0d1913cac6415d06268bb454cbbbf7bbd1a83ee0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="979" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 5"> </figure>  The perception overseas that Nepalis lack management and leadership skills that other nationalities have is now being broken. There are Nepalis who are doing very well across the Gulf region. It is important to have Nepalis in leadership positions, not just for our individual growth and finances, but also because it allows us to help other Nepalis to solve problems they encounter, especially as newcomers.&nbsp; There is chain migration that allows us to pull fellow Nepalis overseas from our communities that has been going on for decades, but there is also upward mobility where those of us doing well in leadership positions can open the way for more Nepalis to climb the ladder.&nbsp; Creating that positive perception of Nepalis in upper management positions is a priority. Leveraging networks to help others is an added bonus.&nbsp; One of my proudest moments was seeing immense potential in one of the staff I was managing in my team who was from Bangladesh. I recommended a fellow chef to take him under his wing and vouched for him as his manager. Today, he is a successful chef.&nbsp; I have learnt with time how important it is to be able to defend yourself at work or to be aware of the rules and policies in place. Often we fail to use existing rules that are in our favour because we are just unaware of them and are hesitant to speak up.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_348b63d15b026d1c2a1d1afd0621c1fca06791181a5a1615b8d5e2faa0c87006.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231104041124_348b63d15b026d1c2a1d1afd0621c1fca06791181a5a1615b8d5e2faa0c87006" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 3"> </figure>  Labour laws in the Gulf countries are also changing, and have become more flexible. But how those changes affect us depends on our ability to make use of them. Of course, this also depends on what kind of employer we land. In my job, I have witnessed the extreme luxury and wealth of our guests, and how easy they have it financially. I compare that to Nepalis like me who have to struggle every step of the way.&nbsp; I blame politics which has prevented Nepal from making the best use of our incredible natural and human resources. Yet, when I watch news from Nepal these days, there is little to be optimistic about.&nbsp; I hope that we will soon be allowed to vote in elections from overseas, so we too have a say about who should lead Nepal. We are not in the Gulf region permanently, we send money home every month, and we will eventually return. We should have the right to vote. We spend a good chunk of our lives overseas to toil in difficult circumstances, far away from home. But it is as much about our families we leave behind.&nbsp; They give us the green signal to go abroad to work, while they take care of things at home in our absence. I believe families left behind do not get enough credit for the sacrifice they make. As for me, I owe it to my wife who has been a pillar of strength for me and someone who has supported my professional growth. I keep reminding Nepalis overseas to stay connected with their families back home. It takes a lot of effort to make this journey of separation tolerable. It is easy to get lost in the daily grind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231104041124_fc4a2e976ca1d5b10f12f0aea543d696a6ba2c772189a6ddca7b2e87e36ae773.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231104041124_fc4a2e976ca1d5b10f12f0aea543d696a6ba2c772189a6ddca7b2e87e36ae773" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal on my mind 6"> </figure>  The lack of communication and distance can take a toll on mental health as well. The need to make a better living seems possible only in a foreign land, and that makes physical separation unavoidable. It is up to us to remain connected emotionally and virtually — after all they are just a phone call away.&nbsp; Translated from a conversation. Diaspora Diaries provides a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;

Nepal on my mind

This is the 42nd edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis who have lived or are working abroad. I still remember the blast of hot air that enveloped me when the airport door slid open at Dubai airport that afternoon 20 years ago. I was immediately worried whether it was the right decision to go to the UAE for work. I was there to flip burgers, much to the dismay of my parents who had invested in my education. But my Master's in Geology from India did not amount to much in Nepal. Oil companies in India prioritised locals, so I had to return to Nepal. I still remember entering the premises of the Department of Geology and Mines in Kathmandu with the hopes of getting a job. But the lethargy and broken furniture there put me off, I did not want to work in such a place. I then took on odd jobs, teaching math and science. My father suggested I could be a lecturer in geology, but how could I inspire people to join a field in which I saw no potential for myself? Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya">From retail to selling chiya</a>, Gautam Guvaju They say money is not everything, but you need money for everything. So, after two years, I found myself interviewing for a job at Burger King in the UAE. The country manager had come to Kathmandu himself for the interview. He told me that I could achieve the same success as another Nepali he had employed in the UAE if I worked hard. My educational background and language skills would be an advantage, he said. But he told me to be realistic about my expectations. I would have to be ready to do even menial tasks, like cleaning restrooms. Foreign workers are usually housed in labour camps in the UAE’s industrial areas, segregated from the rest of the population. I was lucky to be put up in a flat in the middle of the city on the 16th floor of a high rise. In the morning after my arrival in Dubai I marvelled at how high we were, and watched the cars below that looked like toys. At Burger King, everything was by the book. There were specifications and instructions for all functions, from how to wash hands to how to thaw condiments. As a science student I was intrigued. It was not easy, especially in the early days. Standing for nine hours a day as a crew member in a fast-paced environment can be stressful, especially if you are not used to working at all. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-bonds-with-racing-camel-in-qatar">Nepali bonds with racing camel in Qatar</a>, Mohan Pandey Once the restaurant opened for business, customer flow was constant. In the beginning, I could barely stand by the end of the day and my hands would be stiff. It felt like every cell in my feet was hurting. Even on my days off, I visited the restaurant to read the Burger King manual like a textbook. I found it fascinating how specific it was about standards covering practically every aspect of the burger making process. Perhaps my science degree came in handy after all, helping me grasp details faster than the average employee. I soon became the go-to guy at work. I got 100% in all internal exams required for the job. Doing well in these exams or getting awards in the company positioned me for quicker promotions, but once you hit managerial posts, certificates and training did not matter as it was all about the outlets' performance and numbers. I once caught a cold as my body wasn’t able to handle the frequent changes between the AC inside and the outside heat. Back in Nepal, this would have been enough to keep me in bed. There, I somehow made it to work and got so busy that by the time I was done with my shift, the cold would be gone. I worked myself and my cold to death. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/amit-and-tilak">Amik and Tilak</a>, Tilak Bahadur Tamang and Amik Singh Lama My hard work paid off. When I was promoted to Assistant Manager in two years, I was described as the fastest-developing crew member to assistant manager in Burger King Middle East history. I still recall reading that email in tears right before my shift started. It helped that there were managers who were genuinely invested in my growth. Duty meals were free for employees, so I ended up eating burgers every day from 2003 to 2009. I once calculated that I must have eaten about 2,028 of them — but the hard work kept me from gaining weight. Burger King gave me more than just a good job. It is where I fell in love with my wife, who was also making a future for herself in the same restaurant. I then jumped ship to Subway where I worked as an Area Manager for two years. This experience was different because Subway did not have the same strict specifications as Burger King, and gave me room to apply what I had learnt there. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230930030916_5827ccc1a858abbfa8fa778b5c340f6db99d48511fb5725f161369025fb624bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230930030916_5827ccc1a858abbfa8fa778b5c340f6db99d48511fb5725f161369025fb624bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="DF42"></figure>  I was then hired by the Swedish chain Max Burger to establish a presence in the UAE. Its operating style relied on common sense rather than strict specifications. It had the same feel as grandmoms who run kitchens using intuition and common sense, which I quite liked. I had experience handling high volumes, including full destination restaurants with drive through, delivery and takeout. I was also a certified restaurant trainer. As someone who had started out with a monthly salary of AED900, I was now making over 12,000. I had the savings and the skills, but like all migrant workers, I was working for someone else and had started questioning myself – till when? Whenever we came to Nepal on breaks and satisfied our momo and chow mein cravings, we would be on the lookout for burgers. But we were never satisfied with the burgers here, which is what gave us the idea of starting a burger place in Nepal. My parents were getting older, and my father's health had started failing. As an only child, I decided to head home. My wife and son returned first, and I followed. I got on the plane to Nepal with no regrets about leaving the place I had worked in for 11 years. I set up Burger Shack in Nepal in 2014. My parents, who had initially questioned why I was going abroad to make burgers, now started expressing concern about why I wanted to sell only burgers and not momos. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230930030916_dd8bea786db86cdc3619171fc4efeaaf007708d3fb0114fc6f723e149e8b41c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230930030916_dd8bea786db86cdc3619171fc4efeaaf007708d3fb0114fc6f723e149e8b41c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="2667" loading="lazy" alt="DF42"></figure>  Despite my experience in three fast food restaurants overseas, running a restaurant in Nepal was a different proposition altogether. Even finding the right kind of buns and patties was a challenge. I had to improvise every step of the way. Fortunately, business is doing well and we now have three branches including one franchise. Customers say we are the closest thing to McDonald’s in Nepal. Had I not gone overseas for work, I would probably still be doing something on my own — perhaps a small grocery shop or a momo restaurant. But the experience in the UAE gave me capital and skills. I am the first person in my risk-averse family to start a business. I learnt in those few years abroad more practical lessons than I did from my formal education. It was important to pick up technical skills, and use them to build a niche for myself in Nepal. Going overseas means access to a platform and new possibilities, but in the final analysis it boils down to what you make of it. Dubai feels like a dream now. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a>

"Money is not everything, but you need money for everything"

This is the 41st instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Even as a kid, I could feel my family's standard of living improve when my father left for Iraq after a failed trucking business in Nepal. It crept up in small ways. Instead of five rupees for lunch money, I now got ten. Or the clothes my mother bought me were of a better quality. Birthday celebrations got bigger. Immediately after Iraq, he hopped on a plane to the UAE to work at an Abu Dhabi-based hospital as a supervisor of security guards. It was a relatively easy job, and he earned well. I am not sure why, but the UAE has fascinated me ever since. I suppose part of it has to do with familiarity, as I watched YouTube videos from a young age to learn more about the country where my father was working. When family members encouraged me to go to Australia or the UK for further studies, I figured the UAE was a better option as I did not want to spend my father's hard earned money to go elsewhere. I was well aware of his struggle and sacrifice, and the UAE felt like a better fit for financial reasons. After my 12th, I headed to the UAE on a family visa that my father arranged. On my second day in Dubai, I passed a walk-in interview for a salesman job at a retail store. I also did my bachelors in business administration over weekends at Jaipur University.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_cd472b68ad1a2f120dd8bc634c049946f5939d80ff2a2993dd34d67109ce72ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230926120936_cd472b68ad1a2f120dd8bc634c049946f5939d80ff2a2993dd34d67109ce72ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="450" height="592" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  I was hired as a salesman at a clothing company, but most of my responsibilities were that of a stock boy. One day I got the chance to showcase my salesmanship to the higher ups at a sales event at the World Trade Centre in Dubai. Impressed, they pushed me to take on more front-desk sales related tasks. I outperformed my peers, but I was not satisfied. My next goal was to become a store manager. I took it upon myself to learn various skills including bookkeeping, merchandising, setting schedules of staff and preparing sales reports. To learn these skills, I arrived at the store before opening and left after closing. Those extra hours did not translate to overtime pay, and I left the store only to sleep. I soon saw the fruits of my labour when my sales numbers landed me opportunities to train new hirees at the company headquarters. The networking allowed me to get a store manager job at our branch at the Ibn Battuta Mall. We Nepalis are indeed a hard-working, honest bunch, and there is a reason why we have built a strong reputation abroad amongst employers. I did not get to meet my father much because he was based in Abu Dhabi and I was in Dubai. His schedule was more flexible, so he would sometimes come to see me and we would go eat at Nepali restaurants. I did not share my struggles in the UAE with my father, I just wanted him to know the happy bits.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120928_e7e65b492d29434a1e997b85c7e8a896ed8402a5215f3ce99040ce1da7c8977a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230926120928_e7e65b492d29434a1e997b85c7e8a896ed8402a5215f3ce99040ce1da7c8977a" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Life in Dubai was not easy. There were 8 of us from five nationalities crammed into a small room. I decided with a Nepali that I got along with to get our own place. It was a tiny 7 by 4.5 feet room that had just enough space for a bunk bed and a tiny fridge. We lived frugally, a large chunk of my earnings went on rent and school fees. Living paycheck by paycheck for me meant starting off the month strong and running dry as it ended. Towards the end of the month, I would have to resort to loans from friends, or I had to stop eating out and innovate to make food last longer by adding water to fried lentils bought in the market for one dirham, or living off white rice and fried sausages, which cost peanuts. After the store manager job, I started dreaming bigger. I was transferred to the head office and had my eyes on the area manager role. But I also had other aspirations that would interrupt my career progression -- I started toying with the idea of returning to Nepal. I was in my mid-20s, and there was pressure to get married and have children. With those added responsibilities, I would not be able to choose a risky career path like entrepreneurship, my calling. I had witnessed what was possible with hard work in Dubai during my 3.5 years there. I figured if I failed in Nepal, I could always return again for a job. It was not easy to convince my family, they wanted me to head to greener pastures like the US or Australia and not return to Nepal. Many returning Nepalis who muster the courage to call it quits and come home usually backed by savings accumulated abroad. Not me. I had no savings, only courage.&nbsp; I had learnt to work hard in Dubai, and had built the confidence to deal with people from diverse backgrounds. Even as I took my Nepal-bound flight, I knew that I would be coming back to Dubai one day, either as a tourist or for a job. I knew this wasn’t the final goodbye to the place that had been home. In Nepal I tried my hand at two different clothing lines, given my retail background. On a trip to India to buy fabric for our clothing business, Jama Store, I remember waiting in line for tea every morning at a tea stall. Chhotu, the young tea seller, drew quite a crowd every morning. Intrigued, my friend Ritu Karmacharya and I spoke with Chhotu who excitedly demonstrated to us how he prepares his tea, and what makes it so special. This struck a chord, and we considered the possibility of starting a tea place in Nepal. We also noticed many classy tea cafes in India as we walked around. Once we returned, we visited places in Nepal and realised that there was scope for this venture in Nepal as well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_e18cd45a48ad0b2fb99250c591d9321f8c6300aadb4ad80cd9933d76d76ba587.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230926120936_e18cd45a48ad0b2fb99250c591d9321f8c6300aadb4ad80cd9933d76d76ba587" data-rendition-name="original" width="936" height="753" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Ritu's sister, a USA returnee, also suggested that there were such elegant tea places in New York with vibrant Moroccan decor and floor seating arrangements, and she encouraged us to pursue something similar. We had no money, so I reached out to my family members in Kuwait and the UAE who agreed to become part investors. We found a vacant place in Kumaripati and renovated it. Chiya Spot was born and we started selling tea. Our special? Chhotu's tea in honor of the boy from Delhi who inspired us. At first, we made do with three or four packets of milk every day to serve our customers. But unbeknownst to us, the famous food vlogger Mr Foodie Nepal featured our café. It blew up on social media and we started getting loads of customers. We could not keep up and had to expand our space to accommodate more customers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_0fa4ec82e0ebed65de088a4519b9d9190169017534abb92cd0d2e5e28fdecf42.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230926120936_0fa4ec82e0ebed65de088a4519b9d9190169017534abb92cd0d2e5e28fdecf42" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_1f0c371596ab95192026266dcbae582bd01e3c6b313632cdaf927b2410d61c52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230926120936_1f0c371596ab95192026266dcbae582bd01e3c6b313632cdaf927b2410d61c52" data-rendition-name="original" width="719" height="898" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  Most recently, we have also opened a new branch in Boudha. While the Kumaripati branch is inspired by Moroccan/Jaipuri decor, the cafe in Boudha is inspired by Middle Eastern design, in particular from Dubai. I remember going to Dubai Gold Souk whenever I had a few hours off to relax in the market and grab a bite with a friend at a Nepali restaurant. Now, I have brought a little piece of Old Dubai back home to Nepal at the new café, to be enjoyed with karak chai that is famous there. While the vlogger Foodie Nepal's post helped draw customers to Kumaripati, my sisters’ social media posts on the Boudha branch went accidentally viral on TikTok. We got so many customers that it got unmanageable, and this even translated to angry posts and reviews as people were not happy with the wait. We were expecting our customer base to increase organically over time, not overnight. Such is the power of social media. For both good and bad. We quickly added staff and are learning every day to improve our service. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230926120936_1e044c0b6bcaea569c6651e5bf53530abc227f99d55490e5a94940ae032c4d64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230926120936_1e044c0b6bcaea569c6651e5bf53530abc227f99d55490e5a94940ae032c4d64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 41"> </figure>  I had never, in my wildest imagination, thought I would be leaving retail to sell tea one day. But both branches are doing well, Insallah. We try to create a space for people to relax over tea, conversations, or board games without putting pressure on them to leave or order more items. As long as people are happy, the customer volume or finances will automatically work themselves out, as they have over the past three years. &nbsp;We want to fill the niche left by restaurants that either offer great ambience or reasonable prices, which we don’t believe have to be mutually exclusive. Many migrants spend a large chunk of their remittances to buy land or build houses in Nepal. I returned to Nepal empty-handed. But with my earnings here, I have managed to contribute significantly to my parent's new house, and I could not be prouder. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

From retail to selling chiya

This is the 40th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Sanaya is the industrial area of Doha, and is home to the majority of foreign workers in Qatar. But for me, it was in the desert in Al-Shahaniya where I lived for seven years since 2009 training race camels.&nbsp; My days used to start at 3AM, and I made sure the camels were well-fed, hydrated, and prepared for race day with exercises, including walks and runs at various speeds and lengths.&nbsp; During practice race days I rode a non-race camel in between two race camels to guide and train them. Known as galaisha, these were well-trained, retired race camels that had never won in competitions during their glory days.&nbsp; When we were practicing for a race, my employer would drive in parallel outside the track, instructing me to slow down or go faster depending on the camel’s endurance. The robot jockey would be charged overnight, placed on the camel’s back and the employer spoke to it through the speakers in the jockey. He even used the automated whip if necessary when the camel wasn’t paying attention, or to urge him to go faster.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/amit-and-tilak">Amik and Tilak</a>, Tilak Bahadur Tamang and Amik Singh Lama The intensity and passion for this sport and what it meant to his family both financially and prestige-wise was evident in his voice as the robot blared “ghap, ghap” through the speakers. My employer owned 15 camels, and I was attached to all of them. But one race camel, Riyaj, stood out. He was special, an underdog. &nbsp;I once left Riyaj at the starting point of a 4-km race in Qatar. There were 40-50 other camels. The trainers honked and cheered from the vehicles with “ghap, ghap” on speakers.&nbsp; Listening to the live and animated commentary on the radio, I overheard a Sudanese person telling his friend that Riyaj was leading. I could not believe it, and my heart pounded with excitement. A wrap with the number one was placed on Riyaj’s back, and the judges put saffron all over him as part of the celebration. Everyone wished each other “mobarak” although we still had to wait for lab tests to ensure no performance enhancement drugs were used. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-nurses-gone-and-going-to-the-uk">Nepali nurses gone and going to the UK</a>, Nepali Times  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230811190848_15388417d3f33dc5bdbdf9caef4c89ad1a56ec8d97c00a152616478cc61ee1ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230811190848_15388417d3f33dc5bdbdf9caef4c89ad1a56ec8d97c00a152616478cc61ee1ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="839" loading="lazy" alt="DD 40"> <figcaption>Mohan Pandey with a trophy after the win.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;When Riyaj won, nothing else mattered to me momentarily. Not the struggles I had gone through, not my status in a foreign country, not the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All that mattered was that Riyaj had won and with it, I too felt like a winner.&nbsp; My bosses, his family members and friends, clapped my back and hugged me, and I was a hero among other workers from Rajasthan, Pakistan and Sudan with their own camels. Today was Riyaj’s turn to win. It was my day.&nbsp; Baba, my employer, could not be prouder. I was given 5000 riyal (Rs190,000) as baksheesh. This was a lot of money for me, although it was peanuts compared to the prize money which ran into millions.&nbsp; This win also changed my status in Qatar, as I won the trust and dare I say, respect, for my skills in training the camels. Baba started relying on me for all things related to his camels, he wanted my input and involvement. Who could have said that someone like me who was afraid of camels when I first arrived in Qatar would one day be a natural with them? It was not a hobby or passion that brought me to camel racetracks. Nor did I have any natural inclination towards camel rearing like colleagues from Rajasthan or Sudan. Actually, it was the only job I could get.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan Perhaps life would have never brought me to Qatar to take care of camels had my father, a garment worker in UAE, not met with an accident and returned to Nepal for good. Till then, our family was faring just fine. His return and inability to provide for us forced me to grow up.&nbsp; Had my father continued working normally, I would have completed my studies in Nepal. I see glimpses of what my life could have been like from where my friends are today, earning handsome salaries in Kathmandu.&nbsp; I first went to India to help my cousin who was a truck driver in India. My body could not take the heat and pressure of the job, and I fell sick. My cousin found me a job as a domestic worker.&nbsp; “Chotu, do this. Chotu, do that.” That is how my days passed for 350 Indian rupees a month, running around the house trying to be helpful. I used to send money home occasionally and when I went home for my first vacation, I took with me a pickle jar and Rs2,600 to hand over to my mom.&nbsp; Moving to India at an early age had changed me. I spoke with a Hindi accent, and my mother used to laugh at my “haaji” whenever she called out my name. My father was also in India, but he had a tendency to disappear for years and show up randomly without any money. We heard he was in Goa. The accident in the UAE had taken a mental toll on him and he was never the same again. From a family that was doing okay for ourselves, we had lost more than my father’s stable earnings.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/">Power of workers working together</a>, Madhusudhan Ojha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230811190848_b280af6b55caee9518ef425cfa932d40304533e919329217cf4c53b75571c759.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230811190848_b280af6b55caee9518ef425cfa932d40304533e919329217cf4c53b75571c759" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="827" loading="lazy" alt="DD 40"> <figcaption>Pandey is now in Nepal and his recent venture as vegetable seller has been mostly profitable.</figcaption> </figure>  After working as a helper in several houses, I found a job at a gym where a customer later poached me to work in his electric company. The highlight of my job at the gym was serving sandwiches to Bollywood stars Hritik Roshan, Saif Ali Khan, Ajay Devgand and Isha Deol who were at the opening ceremony of the Barbarian Power Gym. I wish I had that moment captured on camera.&nbsp; I knew that for real progress, I had to go to the Gulf. An acquaintance arranged a visa for me for Qatar and I only found out later that it was to race camels. &nbsp; I had no idea how to take care of camels that were much taller and stronger than me. The heat in the desert was also unbearable. And I did not speak any Arabic. Everything was so unfamiliar that I considered quitting right away. But I had already paid recruitment fees to get there, and leaving was not an option. Slowly, I started understanding these unfamiliar creatures, and learnt the tricks of the trade. I started feeling more comfortable with the animals, and they with me. &nbsp; While other camels could eat however much they wanted, I had to be careful about how much I fed the racing ones. It could neither be too much nor too little and had to be timed well so they were at peak performance on race day. We fed milk and ghee to the race camels.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Our camels usually came third or fourth and even 15th in the races. Such losses ended with “Insallah”, hoping for a win the next time. Except when Riyaj won. On that day, all barriers came down with my employer’s family, as we celebrated. I still smile fondly when I think of that time.&nbsp; I came to Qatar completely unfamiliar and unprepared, but left knowing all there was to know about camels. The only problem was that those skills were useless in Nepal, where there are no camels. I also picked up Arabic, which is not much needed in Nepal. My employer did not want me to leave, but I left assuring him that if I ever were to re-emigrate, it would be back to take care of his camels. In school, I was a bright student but did not get to study after my father's accident, and I had to earn to ensure that my siblings could continue their studies. Indeed, my brother is now in Japan and works in IT.&nbsp; Back in Nepal, I had to start from scratch and life has not been easy. I tried my luck in marketing, being a butcher, I ran a canteen, dabbled in real estate, learnt driving, and unsuccessfully attempted to re-emigrate.&nbsp; My latest venture as a vegetable seller has worked out. The earnings are enough to cover household expenses, and some losses are manageable. I want to ensure a comfortable life for my wife and daughter. But it is not easy even after all these years and experience, just like it was not easy when I went to India to find work as a 13-year old. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Dhumbharahi vegetable shop that I run was submerged in this week's flood in Kathmandu, highlighting my move from a place with no water to too much water. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Nepali bonds with racing camel in Qatar

This is the 37th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Tilak: I always valued education despite my humble beginnings in Ramechhap. In Grade 3, my English teacher had mentioned to us several times that he had a bachelor's. It felt like a lot of years of education to get that degree, but as an impressionable kid who ranked first in class, I resolved to follow his footsteps. And I did. I completed my Bachelors degree although the journey was full of challenges. Going from my village school to Dolakha after Grade 8, and to Kathmandu after my SLC was especially difficult. I took up Intermediate of Arts (IA) in English, but was simply not able to grasp anything, no matter how hard I tried.&nbsp; I had to rely on the English dictionary for every other word and simply could not keep up. I switched to Nepali instead but I also took private English classes to catch up and completed a second IA in English. The same institute would also later hire me as an English language instructor. Influenced by people in my Patan neighbourhood, I also got a job as a stone sculptor. With no background, I had a long way to go before I could transform stones that cost less than Rs500 to artefacts that would sell for 100 times the amount.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/return-of-the-native">Return of the native,</a> Lek Yonzon Tamang My first assignments were to just wipe stones, but slowly I started getting orders to carve idols of gods and goddesses. I did not understand the theory behind sculpting, but I was quick with my hands as I carefully &nbsp;carved details on stone. Even now, some of my sculptures are on display in the shop where I worked. Between teaching English classes and carving stones, I was earning around Rs15,000 rupees a month, which at that time was quite remarkable. One day in 2001, I received an email from my acquaintance in Saudi Arabia about a potential job at McDonald's. I had never heard of the restaurant chain, and was unsure about life in Saudi Arabia, or the kind of work I would be doing. But I was young and excited about seeing the world so took up the job offer even though the salary was Rs16,000, just about what I was making in Nepal. When the plane took off from Kathmandu, it suddenly hit me that I was leaving behind my home and my family, and I felt a chill run through my body. I traveled via Pakistan to Riyadh and Jeddah. The number of South Asians on the plane decreased after each flight, until the final domestic flight had only Saudis in their white robes.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tale-of-a-modern-day-lahure">Tale of a modern day lahure</a>, Uday Bahadur Baniya The heat on the tarmac in Riyadh was overpowering, unlike anything I had experienced before. I am not sure why, but I still vividly remember feeling very low and lost walking away from that plane. I already doubted that I would make it through my 2-year contract. I was to spend the next seven years there.&nbsp; At our accommodation, we were welcomed by colleagues including Nepalis. They brought us food, McDonald burgers and fries, which smelled nice. I recognised the golden arches on my burger box which I had seen on my contract document.&nbsp; I had never seen or tasted a burger before. Little did I know that my first burger would determine the course of the rest of my life.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023071413074_3a4aeb7b5bb41e9985db7157195bb8edc4947d97785069c72066e0c96217f061.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023071413074_3a4aeb7b5bb41e9985db7157195bb8edc4947d97785069c72066e0c96217f061" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="912" loading="lazy" alt="DD37"> </figure>  Amik: I was part of the first cohort of Nepalis hired by McDonald's in Saudi Arabia in 1999. I come from a farming family in Kavre, and have been living in Kathmandu since Grade 7. I was working at a hotel in Thamel and was a second-year Bachelors' student when I had the possibility of working at McDonald’s in Saudi Arabia. I thought McDonald’s was a five-star hotel. I remember getting off the plane in Qatar en route to Saudi Arabia. Just a couple of minutes in the heat, and I was completely drenched in sweat. I was nervous whether I would be able to survive in such an environment. But then again, if others could, why not me? Two years before Tilak came to Saudi Arabia, I too was welcomed at my accommodation in Jeddah with McDonald’s burgers and fries. Even though I had worked in hotels in Thamel after completing my SLC, this sandwich was unfamiliar to me. I liked the taste, but it was not filling like dal bhat.&nbsp; We were allowed to buy 15 riyals equivalent to food and drinks at work, so my diet was mostly burgers in the beginning. But soon the taste got monotonous, and I started using the allowance on coffee while spending out-of-pocket for kabsa meals from outside. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan During my initial years there, my Nepali friends and I used to sit closely to people speaking Nepali and eavesdrop. At that time, there were few Nepalis and everyone from Nepal felt like family. There was an instant bond and a desire to build lasting friendships. All that changed, and within a few years every other person we met in Saudi Arabia would be Nepali. Within a month on the job, I had already got the employee of the month award. I realised that hard work was recognised and rewarded here. They used to organise competitions among McDonalds staff from all outlets in the kingdom in which we were tested for our compliance with the company's standards, among others, by evaluators who observed our work and asked us questions.&nbsp; I stood first among all Saudi-based employees and a Filipino, who stood second, and I were selected from Saudi to travel to Thailand for a week to participate in a wider competition. As luck would have it, only the Filipino went, as Nepalis were not eligible for visas on arrival.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/">Power of workers working together</a>, Madhusudhan Ojha A few years later and after a few promotions, I was able to travel to Egypt where I got a manager of the year award and also felt a sense of redemption. In 2008, I became sick. The doctors could not figure out what was wrong with me, but I knew something was not right. Falling ill in a foreign country is perhaps the most isolating experience, and I decided to go home. My request for an extended break was denied, so I resigned. &nbsp;I felt no attachment or nostalgia about saying goodbye even though I was leaving after 8 years and 8 months. After numerous visits to doctors and the temple of our ancestral kul deuta gods, I was healed.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023071413078_cd881366fe724916d0f60ed9430ccd74fc4fccfe3cf0084cf0597580278bb69d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023071413078_cd881366fe724916d0f60ed9430ccd74fc4fccfe3cf0084cf0597580278bb69d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1296" height="862" loading="lazy" alt="DD37"> </figure>  Tilak: Both Amik and I rose to managerial positions at McDonald’ after starting out as staff crew members. We had met in Saudi Arabia, but were from different cohorts who arrived two years apart so we were not very close. But it turns out that we bought houses with our savings in Saudi Arabia in the same colony in Boudha. Progress, it turns out, meant the same for both of us as we moved back to Nepal to live in our remittance-enabled houses in the same colony. &nbsp; Amik: We got close in Nepal because we became neighbours by chance. But the bills were stacking up, and our families felt we had to stop fooling around. The natural choice was to re-migrate, this time to Dubai, but when we heard through the grapevine that KFC was launching in Nepal, we decided to apply. Given our experience at McDonald’s, we jokingly referred to ourselves as “kings of fastfood”. We both ended up joining the company a few months apart and worked for a few years in various managerial and training capacities.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023071413074_4093bf5c1ba31966f91debf620c1c3f64160ab9cea337ec399a94cb3ba9d2cc8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2023071413074_4093bf5c1ba31966f91debf620c1c3f64160ab9cea337ec399a94cb3ba9d2cc8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="DD37"> </figure>  Throughout all this both of us, at the back of our minds, had considered starting our own venture. So many people have trusted us, whether it is to manage KFC in Nepal or McDonald’s outlets in Jeddah. But why were we not trusting ourselves? How long would we continue working for others? The conversation eventually turned into concrete plans when we resigned to be our own bosses at AT Burger. &nbsp; Tilak: AT actually stands for ‘anytime burger', which it will be when the government allows restaurants to open 24/7 in Nepal. We celebrated when we sold a few burgers a day. It was common for people to walk away when they found out that we did not sell momo. We have now come a long way, and our chain now has five outlets.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/" target="_blank">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali Times After customer feedback, we have also introduced momo to our menu. It was not easy, we had to take a crash course on momo-making from experts before we started offering it.&nbsp; What we liked best about McDonald’s was the culture where we learnt to do all tasks from cashier, burger stations, packing, cleaning and customer service. We have tried to inculcate the same culture to our café, and our former staff who are now in countries like Australia and Japan tell us how this all-round experience has been helpful for them.&nbsp; There are returnees from UAE and Saudi Arabia from the fast-food industry and our own long-time staff who have joined forces with us as investors to start new AT branches.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023071413078_c4c27acf2b7eca00339078b190e737a39ec975ff3179b871e47499dbb844b48f.png" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2023071413078_c4c27acf2b7eca00339078b190e737a39ec975ff3179b871e47499dbb844b48f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1244" height="804" loading="lazy" alt="DD37"> </figure>  Amik: Working in Nepal takes patience and there are obstacles along the way. One of the biggest mistakes returnees make is to dive into areas that are ‘trending', even if they are not familiar with that business.&nbsp; Choosing opportunities in our own area of expertise is critical because it gives us the cushion and ability to think about multiple back-up options and to innovate when things don’t go as planned. And in Nepal, things indeed often do not go as planned.&nbsp; Translated from a conversation in Nepali.&nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Amik and Tilak

This 36th instalment of Diaspora Diaries. When I first went to the UAE in 1992, it was for two years. I ended up staying away for over three decades working for the Dubai Port Authority (DPA). After crossing 55, the retirement age for foreigners, I left in 2022. By then, I had spent more time in the UAE than in Nepal. Somewhere along the way, Dubai started feeling more like home. I used to be sad leaving Nepal after a vacation, but later started feeling like I was returning home when I boarded a Dubai-bound flight. I cannot pinpoint when that switch happened. I suppose whether in Nepal or the UAE I had to work and earn, and job prospects were better there. Vast improvements in mobile connectivity during the past three decades also helped to ease the burden of being away. As my salary increased and I gained more responsibility in my job, so did my aspirations and what I wanted for my family. When you start earning, even the nature of your dreams evolve. Whether they come true or not is a different matter, but even to dare to dream, you need to have something in your pocket. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-saudi-to-sauji">From Saudi to Sauji</a>, Rudra Bahadur Sapkota  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_def77ef286e03c3569b5cab9bf3fbfc5633cf4e61b700c1f87fd189d7c7d7d75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230707210756_def77ef286e03c3569b5cab9bf3fbfc5633cf4e61b700c1f87fd189d7c7d7d75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  I applied to go overseas in 1992 knowing nothing about Dubai. My attempt to find a book on Dubai in Asan failed. I had heard about “Arab”, not Dubai. I had to pay an agent Rs40,000 for the job, and did not have the money. So my mother sold her gold ornament. I would later find out that the employer had paid all my recruitment costs, and the agency had cheated me. I landed in Dubai at 1AM and my group was the manpower company's first international contract, and the manager also accompanied us. In 1992, the only tall building was the Dubai World Trade Center and seeing the city lights I was excited. But soon we were driving through the dark desert. The mailman used to come to camp with letters from home, and I remember rushing to him like children running after sweets. When I sent a letter to my family saying I am unwell, I would have recovered by the time it reached them. If my father did not receive my letter, he used to get angry and anxious. My father and I got closer through our letters and I became a better writer. I used to also dabble in songwriting. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tale-of-a-modern-day-lahure">Tale of a modern day lahure</a>, Uday Bahadur Baniya  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_951e0c4299985c5f01590b2d11f877ad630bb4a6d9416ebdab011fa150b8a8e8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230707210756_951e0c4299985c5f01590b2d11f877ad630bb4a6d9416ebdab011fa150b8a8e8" data-rendition-name="original" width="908" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  When we wanted to hear our family's voices, we headed to the phone booth with a plastic bag full of coins because it cost 9 dirhams per minute. We ran out of coins before we ran out of words to say, and left the booth with an empty feeling for the next impatient caller waiting in line. Getting to read something in Nepali meant so much then. There were no newspapers, but we used to even read the ads in the newspapers used to wrap things from home. Later, I subscribed to Kantipur and Saptahik. I had collected scores of books and magazines over the years. Sending money home was a problem as there were no money exchanges. Sometimes I sneaked some cash inside my letters, or relied on fellow Nepalis who were going home. Once, I saw a Nepali man wearing a dhaka topi on the street, and asked him to take some money to my family when he told me he was headed home. He did, although now in retrospect, I cannot believe that I was so trusting. There were so few Nepalis in the UAE in those days that any Nepali you met instantly became family. When we heard that new Nepali workers had arrived, we even reserved a car to go see them. We wondered if they were from our village, and were excited to hear all the gossip from home. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_f0da3da651fa11adf04479b6a62e36b349231ed7fe798b48698ffe6aef7588de.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230707210756_f0da3da651fa11adf04479b6a62e36b349231ed7fe798b48698ffe6aef7588de" data-rendition-name="original" width="557" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  Right in front of my eyes, the UAE was transformed and I changed too. My journey as a general helper began at a basic salary of 700 dirhams a month. By the time I left as Senior Clerk, I was making 5,500 dirhams ($1,360) basic salary along with an additional allowance of 3,200 dirhams. I know I am lucky compared to fellow Nepalis, which is why I stayed for 30 years in the same company. Many Nepalis still face problems, and I have helped many of them. There was no Nepali embassy until mid-2000, and we had to do what we could. When the UAE started prioritising jobs to locals, I was lucky not to be laid off. Many foreign workers had to leave. But I was incredibly unlucky with other things. I could not come to Nepal to spend the last days with my father. When he died, I could not hold him and cry. My brother also died while I was away. Nor was I here to hold my wife’s hand when my daughter was born. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_dd16cbfb95c5afedf6cd04d63c06b81fa845a01ea3bd9f2b06b0d518a1b63892.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230707210756_dd16cbfb95c5afedf6cd04d63c06b81fa845a01ea3bd9f2b06b0d518a1b63892" data-rendition-name="original" width="589" height="731" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  But my job gave me insight into activities that enabled the rapid transformation of the country. The port I oversaw handled general goods and these also included soil, stones and greenery from different parts of the world like Pakistan, Lebanon, Turkey and Iran that would be used to build the cities and turn the desert green. Even livestock were brought from Europe and New Zealand. Some of the cows would give birth en route. The 100 cows that were loaded into ships became 105 by the time they disembarked in Dubai, messing up the paperwork which had to be redone. I got to see and touch new models of cars even before they were released in the market. Lambos, Ferraris and Teslas, you name it. Someone from my background could never dream of owning them, and my dreams for myself and my family were more modest. I was not admiring the latest automotive technology so much, but wondered how they would fare in Nepal's rough roads. These slick new cars with low ground clearance would never make it to my village. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023070722070_df805d1c9de559efa2ea67f6eea57cfb0153c0e8a1583152200dca48d41f8969.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2023070722070_df805d1c9de559efa2ea67f6eea57cfb0153c0e8a1583152200dca48d41f8969" data-rendition-name="original" width="604" height="453" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  My job required me to train in the latest logistics management technologies. A recent visit to the land revenue office in Nepal with stacks and stacks of files made me wonder when we will reach that level. If the government wanted, I would even work for free for a few months to help upgrade our management systems. The world has really left us way behind. We citizens are also to blame. Nepalis tend to obey laws and rules depending where we are, and tend to be more relaxed about following them in Nepal than elsewhere. The UAE has a lot of oil wealth, and has also opened its doors for people from all over the world, offering them opportunities to invest and prosper. You can register a company in minutes using a smartphone. Even Nepalis in the UAE are now running their own businesses. I chose not to go that route since I wanted to come home. During my last days in Dubai, I remember getting emotional looking at the fully-grown neem tree I had planted in 2005 and nurtured with manure from imported livestock arriving at the port. Now in Nepal after 30 years, I am trying to find my footing. I know I cannot work for someone else. I am unsure what I will do next, and am aware of my age. I do not have the same energy of the young man who left for Dubai a lifetime ago.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Translated from a conversation in Nepali with Lek Yonzon Tamang. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Return of the native

This is the 35th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. A local acquaintance in Baglung went around a village fair promising youngsters like me his son in India would send us to "Arab". This was the 1980s and back then for us there was no Qatar or Saudi or UAE, only Arab. And that was where the jobs and money was. You could earn 7kg of gold per year in Arab, we were told. We believed the man and 93 of us from Baglung headed to Mumbai, where he said we would be in transit. We were stranded there for 17 months. It is funny how the agent’s false assurances – “next week, confirm”, “next month, pakka” — would stretch to more than a year with no job in sight. We waited impatiently in Mumbai. But it did help that we could work and get around India. I worked as a security guard in an apartment complex, dreaming of the promised land. The families in the apartment would ask me to take their children to school, sometimes I would carry 8-10 of their school bags on my back, but I did not mind because that was extra income. One day, as I was walking with a friend to my company's management office to pick up my salary, I saw a sign with the picture of a plane on it. I asked the Indian agent there whether he had work visas for Nepalis. He said yes, and after paying Rs20,000 I was en route to Saudi Arabia to work in a bakery. I was not given advance notice about my flight, but I did not have much to pack anyway. Just three pairs of clothes, slippers and a towel that I quickly stuffed inside my bag. We got to the airport nervous and excited. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung In the rush to the airport, I did not have a chance to exchange money. But I did stitch in 500 Indian Rupees into the hem of my trousers. My hunger grew unbearable in my 13-hour wait at the airport in Riyadh for the next domestic flight so I decided to spend it even though it was all the money I had. I explained to the Sudanese at the counter in my broken English that I had no Saudi money, just Indian rupees. He laughed as he saw me struggle to remove the stitches on my trousers to take out my money. In exchange he gave me 8 Saudi Riyal. I bought biryani and Coke at an inflated price. The Pakistani waiter serving me was amused when I asked him for chillis as I downed my meal. Food has never tasted so good. After taking another domestic flight, I was finally at my destination. Day and night, without time off, I used to work at the bakery for 500 riyal ($130) a month. Between my boss saying "Tal, tal" (Come, come) to assign me work and my "Money problem, Money problem,", he gave me several raises. By the time I went on my first holiday, I was earning 1,200 riyal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120632_b047a814987b451df7ad6180dc01bae85f0eafa340ff5db8710df8b18e1b228b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230625120632_b047a814987b451df7ad6180dc01bae85f0eafa340ff5db8710df8b18e1b228b" data-rendition-name="original" width="965" height="1428" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 2"></figure>  I worked at the bakery for about six years, and then at a grocery store for a fraction of my bakery earnings. It was my naseeb (fate) that I fell into a trap, but had to stick around for 3 years. I had to ask my friends for money to send home. Finally, I transferred to a laundry shop where I earned 800 riyal per month. This is where my struggle and hard work started to pay off because I won the trust of my kafeel, and worked my way up to the manager’s post with six workers under me. I soon co-owned the business with him. I paid him a fixed monthly fee, higher than what previous expat partners had offered, and the rest of the earnings minus the operations costs was for me to keep. For 15 years, I managed to save up to Rs200,000 per month.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120632_7723c73101615a374590214a624b8e928c9df1d1e38453c4605f109dad761825.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230625120632_7723c73101615a374590214a624b8e928c9df1d1e38453c4605f109dad761825" data-rendition-name="original" width="1694" height="1056" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 3"></figure>  In 2017, I decided to return to Nepal despite the good pay and my boss’ insistence that I stay. I had worked enough and was tired, I just wanted to be home with my family. I was leaving behind a different Saudi Arabia. All I remember is vast expanses of sand when I first arrived there. When I left, the roads were wide and buildings had sprung up. I wonder how the three decades went by. Earnings in Nepal are enough, if at all, just to make ends meet. Anything more, and I would have to pack my bags to go overseas again or find reasons to stay abroad. And I wanted more. I had bought a plot of land in Baglung in 1989 after spending a few years in Saudi Arabia. To build a house in that empty piece of land, I had to go overseas. I relocated my sons to Kathmandu because there was no future in the village, especially during the Maoist conflict. I now wanted to sell my Baglung land to buy land and a house in Kathmandu. That meant I had to migrate overseas again.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120636_496ee89e3e7405d5267dc6dad4e6c6550827543ad593c8c0057eb6b86980b74c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230625120636_496ee89e3e7405d5267dc6dad4e6c6550827543ad593c8c0057eb6b86980b74c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 5"></figure>  The sacrifices I made during my foreign employment, communicating over letters with my newly married wife that took 28 days to reach, working around the clock without keeping track of time, or missing key milestones as my sons grew up, all paid off for me in different ways. Despite being from rural Nepal, I managed to build a house in Kathmandu and got extra income from the rent. My sons have both completed their bachelors in IT and have well-paying jobs. They will soon be going abroad for their Master's. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-son-s-dream">A father's sacrifice for his son's dream</a> These are the goals I accomplished by being away. For nearly three years after returning I did nothing. But slowly, the urge to work returned and I started exploring multiple options in Kathmandu, from starting a party palace to a momo store to a poultry farm. Given my experience in Saudi Arabia, I also considered starting a bakery or a laundry, but these were high cost investments. I could neither afford the kind of machines I had used overseas nor expect the same levels of returns in Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120636_decb61422a13681d5a9d6dd2bd4673d8ac1ff573697301279ef9192dff71d79c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230625120636_decb61422a13681d5a9d6dd2bd4673d8ac1ff573697301279ef9192dff71d79c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 4"></figure>  Eventually, I found a spot in a vegetable market in Dhumbarahi. My brother and I invested just Rs130,000 initially, and four years later we sell about a ton of vegetables daily at wholesale prices. Our days start at 2AM as we collect produce from suppliers from Chitwan, Kavre, Makwanpur and Dhading. We sell the produce until 10AM and resume again at 2PM. From 6-6:30 pm onwards, I start selling off what is left at a cheaper price, sometimes at a loss. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan By this time of the day, I am so desperate to get rid of the entire stock of vegetables that I start hawking to draw customers. It helps to stand out in a crowd of sellers who are all facing the same time pressure to do away with remaining perishables. I first had a difficult time understanding the market. Where do we get produce at good rates, who do we sell them to and at what price? At what stage is it better to give away unsold produce at lower prices, sometimes even taking a loss, before they go bad completely? These are things I learnt along the way.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120640_95ba664516743f05ae5b683c1451c5f8794f977b0336b7e2e78d7f28abfc6ce5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230625120640_95ba664516743f05ae5b683c1451c5f8794f977b0336b7e2e78d7f28abfc6ce5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 6"></figure>  The stakes are not as high in my current work as in other businesses. So far, when I have made losses and sold produce at low prices, I have managed to recuperate it within a few days. It is a relief that I do not have to worry about back-breaking loans or huge losses that trap many entrepreneurs. And I particularly like being referred to as a ‘sauji’, as I wouldn’t have enjoyed working under someone for a pittance. Business is good but I do get tired more easily these days. My age is slowly catching up on me. I began my struggle when I was 17, four decades ago. In a few years, I want to sell my business and take it easy to just rest and travel. I want to take my wife to Mumbai to show her where it all began. To my days as a young security guard in the city, dreaming of Arab and the promises it held.

From Saudi to Sauji

This is the 33rd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I still remember the first day I landed in the UAE in 2009. Dubai airport was sparkling clean, spotless. Outside, there was a fancy air-conditioned van with a smartly uniformed driver waiting to pick us up. As he cruised through the wide and clean roads effortlessly, I thought to myself that the driver looked more like a pilot. But reality soon hit. It was past 3 AM, and the scene outside started looking dirtier and dimmer as we drove further away from the airport. We had reached our labour camp and were dropped off in a dingy part of the city. This was our reality, not the glamour and the glitter of the first impression. At 18, I, too, had come to work in the country as a cleaner to add to the sparkle. Despite the disparity that quickly became evident, I found a sense of warmth in the way the Nepalis at the camp welcomed us. There were no cups, I cannot recall why. But the dais cut water bottles in half, and used the lower half to serve us tea with bread. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  They went out of their way to feed us after our long journey as they told us about our new home. I will never forget their 4 AM hospitality. &nbsp;&nbsp; As I was brushing my teeth after waking up, uncertain about what awaited me, I heard someone shout out my name. It turns out two of my school friends were already working in the same company for two years. What were the odds, I thought. I had finished Grade 12 and landed in Dubai to work so as to better my life. I used to get jealous of the village boys who came home from bidesh every two years or so for a month to relax and splurge money. It was one of those acquaintances on vacation who had advised me to make my passport. Like other Nepali youth, this was my foreign dream. My father was getting old so I had to assume responsibility of a provider. My induction training in Dubai, even for a cleaning job, was three weeks long. I had not thought of cleaning as a professional job, but here, it was being taught like it was a science. We were not going to mindlessly scrub floors, we were required to have a deeper understanding of the chemicals and cleaning tools. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty">Wounded in the line of duty</a>, Antare Khatri  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="692" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  I learnt a lot and as I scored over 80% in my assessment exam, and got placed in hotels. Those who scored lower had to work in office buildings and malls. At the hotel the manager had been secretly watching my work. He was obviously impressed because when a supervisor left he offered me the job. At just 20, I was unsure if I was up for the task as I would have to manage people significantly older than me. But I took a chance and was promoted from cleaner to supervisor. Over the next nine years in the UAE, I worked in about six hotels. I could not stay put in the same place for long because once the work would start getting repetitive, I wanted to move on to better things. From a normal hotel to a five star and subsequently to a luxury five star. I was also getting a degree in tourism on the side at an Indian-affiliated open university in Dubai. I did not manage to attend all classes because of my hectic work schedule, but I knew I needed the credentials for my future so somehow managed to complete it. My last employer in Dubai was Fairmont. Working at a five-star hotel has its perks. It is more professional, the staff is more competent. The managers had significantly better skills and experience that made you want to emulate them. There were also a lot of training opportunities. Lessons from books like Emotional Intelligence and Who Moved My Cheese? were taught in ways that injected Fairmont's values in our blood. I enjoyed my work and even got the 2018 Manager of the Year award, something I had never even dreamt would happen. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="794" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  &nbsp;At a get-together at a colleague's home, I saw a wall that was full of pictures from all over the world. I asked my friend's husband what countries he had been to. He laughed and said, "Perhaps it would be easier if you asked me what countries I have not been to." Indeed, as a flight crew, he had traveled the world. That was a turning point in my life. I had been stuck in one country for nine years, when there was a whole wide world out there. I made it a point to look for jobs that would allow me the same kind of mobility so I could broaden my horizon. Within a month, I identified a recruitment drive in Dubai for a cruise ship and passed the interview. I was to work on an Italian cruise ship as Assistant Chief Housekeeper. &nbsp;I remember the mixture of excitement and nervousness I felt when I first saw the ship at the dock: it had over 1,250 guest cabins and 800 crew cabins. It was so gigantic that when I tried to take pictures, the ship would not fit on my screen. My colleagues laughed at me saying it was a relatively small ship by industry standards and that they had worked in much bigger ones. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1293" height="1725" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  Life onboard is busy. Most of our guests are older people from all over the world who have the time and the money to travel around. As we hustle around the clock, it is easy to forget that we are in the middle of the ocean because the vessel is a world of its own. It does not matter where we are, really. Whether in the middle of the desert or ocean, we are working day and night to make money and provide for our families. Regardless of land or water, our lives revolve around that one day every month when we get our salary notification in our cell phone, this is what all this hustle is about. Everything else is secondary. I have now sailed to over 45 countries across the world in 17 months. It is like reading the review of a 300-page book: you just get a little taste of what those countries have to offer. At every port stop, we get to see the few main tourist spots, visit a couple of malls and have a meal before we hop back on to continue our journey. &nbsp;I make it a point to get good Indian or Nepali food, something I miss on board. But now that I am married, I am restless again. I am not as excited about traveling and meeting new people as I have been. My longing for home, to be with family, is growing stronger by the day. I can feel my priorities shifting, and it is just a matter of time before I act on it. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Mountain to desert to ocean

112 dead, 65 missing in Nepal floods

Ayan Dallakoti spent his childhood in Japan, speaking Japanese and for all intents and purposes, considered himself Japanese. It was only as he grew older that he realised he was actually from Nepal. &nbsp; Ayan was eight years old when his mother Pratibha brought him and his younger brother Avan back to Nepal. Their father Anjay, who is still in Japan, had decided to send the boys home so they could “become Nepali”. Ayan was somewhat familiar with the Nepali language and the country, but in Kathmandu, everything felt foreign, including the education system. “Things were a little easier when he had a classmate who had also returned from Japan, but making Nepali friends did not come easily for them,” remembers Pratibha.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040928_c4a683bc4723ce1f5b5683d41add972c915ea6b6fc229a44b713c707381d8787.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240922040928_c4a683bc4723ce1f5b5683d41add972c915ea6b6fc229a44b713c707381d8787" data-rendition-name="original" width="5856" height="3904" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT 3"> <figcaption>All photos: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  Japan is now a major destination for Nepali families like the Dallakotis. Officially, there are 180,000 Nepalis in Japan and 35,000 more left just in the past year – a 30% increase from the year before that.&nbsp; Japanese embassy figures show that of those who left last year, 23,124 were on student visas, 8,566 were on working visas and 7,849 were dependents. While most of the older generation of Nepalis in Japan are cooks who went as ‘skilled labour’, the new crop of migrants are mostly on student visas, working part-time. For the Japanese government, a student visa is a carefully calibrated temporary migration system to fill the country’s labour shortage in the service sector. Unlike the Gulf, Korea, Malaysia and other countries, Nepalis in Japan can also take along their families. Which is why Nepali schools have sprung up in large cities in Japan. These schools teach Nepali language, culture, and also English. But for families who work far away from those cities, the children have no option but to get a Japanese education.&nbsp; Anjay Dallakoti initially went to Japan as a student, but extended his stay with a working visa. Pratibha joined him a few years later as a dependent. Ayan was born in Japan, and six years later Avan. After 12 years, Pratibha is back in Nepal with both her boys.&nbsp; In many Nepali families in Japan, it is the children who are having to adjust to being caught in between two worlds. Many have to cope with the double adjustment of first arriving in Japan, and then returning to school in Nepal. According to Masako Tanaka, a professor at Tokyo’s Sophia University, nearly 20,000 Nepalis in Japan are minors. Tanaka has been working closely with Nepali migrants in Japan, and says many mothers are bringing their children back to Nepal because of worries that they are losing touch with their identity and culture back home. The other reason is that the children are not learning enough English, and the parents fear they will lose out in later life. &nbsp; “Returning to Nepal and studying in schools here helps create an environment for the children to either stay and work in Nepal in future or go to a third country,” says Sapana Kharel, who also returned to Nepal with her two children. For Nepali families who have not yet got permanent resident status, staying on in Japan and continuing their children’s education is too uncertain. They worry that this could interrupt their children’s education if they have to leave Japan midway through school.&nbsp; “There is fear that the children will neither have a place in Nepali schools nor there in Japan,” adds Kharel. Others say that they would have returned to Nepal for the sake of the children no matter what, even if they got permanent residence in Japan. Indeed, there are Nepali mothers who are already permanent residents who have opted to return with their children.&nbsp; Take the Subedi family who have permanent resident status in Japan, but brought their daughter Shibika to Nepal after she completed Grade 1 in Japan.&nbsp; Many migrant children like Shibika had to repeat grades they had already studied in Japan. She had to repeat Grade 1, and is now in Grade 9. Her mother Nitu Bista Subedi feels that repeating a year was necessary to strengthen her daughter’s foundation in the Nepali curriculum.&nbsp; “Shibika has fond memories of Japan and misses being together with the whole family there, and she worries that her Japanese classmates are getting ahead of her,” says Subedi. Ten-year-old Ahana Odari had her own struggles when she was brought to Nepal by her mother a year ago. She too had to repeat Grade 3. “She just wouldn’t speak for the first few months because of the language problem,” remembers her mother, Balika Odari. “Ahana took a whole year to adapt and adjust to Nepal and its ways. But this was necessary.”&nbsp; Like a lot of parents, Balika feels that although Japan’s education system is one of the best in the world, children there are more reclusive and do not socialise as much. “We were worried our children would turn out the same way, and that is why we decided to bring them back and introduce them to their country and culture,” she explains. In more extreme cases, migration can hinder the psychosocial development of returning children. &nbsp; “Early-age children are good at learning dual or multiple languages, but because of the limited vocabulary they are exposed to, they might not always have words to express how they are feeling. And that is where the problem lies,” says Srijana Adhikari, a clinical psychologist at Happy Minds.&nbsp; “For healthy development, the environment the child grows up in and the needs to be stable,” she adds. “If not, this may lead to problems adjusting, separation anxiety and struggles in building relationships.” Sneha Khatri, now 14, oscillated between Nepal and Japan over the years. She was born in Japan but was brought to Nepal when she was six. She studied here until Grade 3 and then went to the Nepali-run Everest International School in Tokyo.&nbsp; Sneha came back to Nepal a month ago to appear for her Basic Level Examination (BLE) but is worried about her results. She is taking extra tutorials in mathematics.&nbsp; Ayan is now in Grade 7, and is also worried about his BLE next year. He says in Japanese-accented English: “Social Studies is my first hardest subject, and Nepali is the second hardest.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040932_3ddaf6b56253baac855f2b4de4f9a646b1c80a677cc8e9d73d469a3c37496ea7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240922040932_3ddaf6b56253baac855f2b4de4f9a646b1c80a677cc8e9d73d469a3c37496ea7" data-rendition-name="original" width="5477" height="3651" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT 4"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040932_3b59646b4c1f30831b039caf8c5e9018fb0ce23349dacebfa0cbee024b4bd885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240922040932_3b59646b4c1f30831b039caf8c5e9018fb0ce23349dacebfa0cbee024b4bd885" data-rendition-name="original" width="5928" height="3808" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT 5"> </figure>  Speaking Nepali with family and friends is not hard for the returnee migrant children, but Nepali as an academic subject is difficult.&nbsp; Professor Tanaka says migrant children have fallen through the cracks between Japan and Nepal. She asks rhetorically, “Who will think about the welfare of the migrant children? Who is responsible for them?”&nbsp; Tanaka was in Kathmandu recently for a workshop on Nepali language education for migrant children during which she presented research findings of her Migrant Children Language Education project. Tanaka’s conclusion is that mother tongue Nepali language education is the best way to help the reintegration of children returning from Japan. “The government can start by developing Nepali language learning resources for online or home learners abroad, training teachers abroad, and organising and encouraging events for Nepali children overseas,” Tanaka told Nepali Times.&nbsp; “Nepal can learn from countries like Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam and Brazil which are working on national language education for their migrant children in Japan.” To be sure, there are also students who are doing well despite the culture shock of moving back and forth between Japan and Nepal.&nbsp; Sapana Kharel’s daughter, Saurya was born in Japan. She came to Nepal when she was six to study in Nepal. Soon after, she went to Japan. She came back when she was 12 to appear for the Nepali BLE. She initially struggled and had low confidence, but soon overcame it and did well. “Now, I’ve realised the importance of learning my mother tongue and have taken up Nepali classes as part of my course,” says Saurya, now 17, in flawless Nepali. But for other migrant children whose parents do not speak enough Nepali when they were in Japan, mastering the mother tongue is still a big hurdle.&nbsp; Ayan’s mother looks at her two children playing at her home in Kirtipur, and says, “The sacrifice we made as a couple, living far from one another, is for our children, their education and for a better future.”&nbsp; <h2>Nepali in Nippon</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240922040928_bb476f3818df3d28240779b520cb93b2aee216f9a1023e0bbe0fccd3abbcd6f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240922040928_bb476f3818df3d28240779b520cb93b2aee216f9a1023e0bbe0fccd3abbcd6f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Japan-born Nepali children NT "> </figure>  In June, when the SEE (Secondary Education Examination) results came out, one of the students who passed was a Zambian national student from Japan. He was studying at the Everest International School Japan (EISJ) in Tokyo which follows the Nepali curriculum, and accommodates the need of families in Nepal and other countries in Japan to also learn English. Initially started in 2013 by the Nepali community, this school came under Nepal’s Ministry of Education (MoE) in 2015. EISJ is the only school in Japan that is certified to take Nepal’s SEE in Japan.&nbsp; Other schools that follow the Nepali curriculum have also opened up, over the years. But only two of them, Tokai Batika International School in Nagoya and Himalayan International Academy in Tokyo are certified to conduct Nepali curriculum as per Nepal’s Ministry of Education. But both provide education only below Grade 10.&nbsp; “As of now, the only country to have schools that follow Nepali curriculum is Japan,” says Parshuram Tiwari, director at the Education Review Office at the MoE in Kathmandu. The majority of Nepali families and a few non-Nepali families working in Japan decide to send their children to schools like EISJ because of the English medium. But these are private international schools, unlike the Japanese government schools which are free of cost. And because these schools are not certified, the Japanese government provides no subsidy, no transportation discount among other privileges to these schools, says Professor Masako Tanaka at Sophia University in Tokyo. &nbsp;“Most importantly, graduates of EISJ cannot get visa status independently even after graduation from high school level, while the migrant students who graduate from Japanese schools are eligible.” Many Nepali families enrol their children to such schools without knowing this, adds Tanka. But even those who know about drawbacks want to provide their children with the opportunity to get international exposure with English language skills. Nepali curriculum schools are mostly based in and around Tokyo, and many Nepali families who live in the suburbs of Japan opt to come to Nepal for their children’s education. (Adjoining article) “We lived in Niigata. It would take us six hours to travel to Everest International School in Tokyo. So, we came to Nepal to give our children English medium education,” says Pratibha Dallakoti, who returned from Japan with her two sons in 2020. While schools that follow the Nepali curriculum in Japan have been a relief for Nepali parents who want their children to pursue Nepali curriculum education, these schools getting certified by the Japanese government would be better. “There are several other international schools in Japan that are certified by both Japanese and foreign dual standards like the &nbsp;Kyoto Kokusai School,” wrote Professor Tanaka in an email interview. “It is for the better that these Nepali curriculum schools like EISJ become similar to KKS which makes it easier for the children as they can get a certificate from both the government. ”

Japan-born Nepali children struggle to ‘be Nepali’

This late monsoon storm was not a surprise. Weather forecasts had warned of heavy precipitation a week before, the Met Office predicted heavy rain on 27-28 September, SMS warned people to take precaution, radio stations issued bulletins, and night buses were banned in 56 districts.&nbsp; The tragedy was compounded because we knew what was coming, and did not do enough to prepare. The accurate weather forecast made no real difference on the ground. When it started raining on Thursday morning and did not stop till Saturday, there was no sense of the scale of this emergency. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">More than 200 people lost their lives, dozens are still missing.</a> Thousands of homes were swept away, Nepal lost nearly half its electricity generation capacity because of damage to power plants, Kathmandu has been nearly cut off with bridges and sections of highways swept away. Yes, this was primarily a natural disaster. Kathmandu Valley and its surroundings got half the average annual precipitation in just 40 hours, the heaviest rainfall measured since records started being kept in 1972. But the high death toll was totally manmade.&nbsp; Three buses were buried by a mudslide in Dhading, killing at least 35 people. This was an eerie reminder of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/100-101-102-hh5uvzf9">Simaltal accident on 12 July </a>when two intercity buses were swept by a mudflow into the Trisuli River at night, killing 62. The buses have still not been found.&nbsp; In both cases, heavy rainfall on a poorly engineered local road up the mountains triggered the initial landslide that swept debris to the highway below. This was manslaughter, not an ‘accident’.&nbsp; We said it then, and we are saying it now: most mountain roads follow no reason or science. It is a corruption-fed activity in which local governments and their cronies plan roads ad hoc and rent their own bulldozers. Debris accumulated during construction is dumped over the edge, where monsoon rains wash them to settlements, farms and highways below. Last weekend’s disaster is a warning that accurate weather early warning is just the first step – it is not enough to prevent a huge loss of life. After the warnings, there should have been door-to-door miking along hazardous river banks urging people to move to higher ground, shelters should have been in place, rescue equipment and rafts pre-positioned, live monitoring of precipitation in the catchments. The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) was just posting situationers on social media. The Home Ministry became a Ministry of Condolences and Empty Promises.&nbsp; This disaster is a reminder of the 1993 Central Nepal cloudburst that hit the Lothar Khola in Chitwan, the Kulekhani areas, and highways blocked highways marooning Kathmandu for weeks. More than 1,300 people were killed.&nbsp; The death toll in Kathmandu this time was compounded by the fact that the city has spread into the floodplains of the Vishnumati, Manohara and other tributaries of the Bagmati. Natural waterways have been hemmed in by streets. The rivers were just reclaiming what was theirs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240930150944_1221b4fb442a21e8d2dbf1aeeca61b7a8d791c117d6a93401f15ba2a95d49a69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240930150944_1221b4fb442a21e8d2dbf1aeeca61b7a8d791c117d6a93401f15ba2a95d49a69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1949" height="1299" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal floods"> <figcaption>Kathmandu Valley, especially its southern fringes looks like an epicentre of a major quake following the rains. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Urban pressure has also forced settlements to move up the Valley’s rim, below steep hillsides with topsoil already saturated in the late monsoon. The torrential downpours caused the slopes to fail. The damage to Upper Tamakosi and dozens of other hydropower plants also is a warning not to put all our eggs in one basket. The Sikkim disaster exactly this time last year was proof that these are at high risk from glacial lake floods and landslide dammed rivers suddenly bursting. More logical would be to build smaller, better designed, plants on many rivers. The Himalaya is also the youngest and most fragile mountain range on earth, Nepal has always had either too much or too little water, and climate breakdown is making this contrast more extreme. Combined, this means we in Nepal live in a multi-disaster prone country with seismic, hydrological and climate risks.&nbsp; After multiple floods in early 1990s, a Japanese grant helped set up the Disaster Prevention Technical Centre (DPTC) in Pulchowk, which was later renamed the Department of Water Induced Disaster Management. We have not heard much from them lately. With the government AWOL, it is ordinary Nepalis who have shown extraordinary courage in saving those being swept by flood water, rescuing babies on canoes (pictured), or digging for passengers trapped in buses buried by landslides. The Nepal Army and the Police rescued thousands, but there was an absence of coordination.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240930150944_cb55edb93eb3aad169b22bc4dec06b5478746fbe75417c628bf671ec698f7912.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240930150944_cb55edb93eb3aad169b22bc4dec06b5478746fbe75417c628bf671ec698f7912" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal floods"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Now, the attention must focus on urgent relief and rehabilitation. But that might be a tall ask just before everything shuts down for Dasain, and when governance fails, lack of accountability and transparency is the norm even without holidays.&nbsp; Sonia Awale

When it rains it pours

In the middle of a rainstorm, surrounded by forests and temples, Jung Bahadur faces off against the fearsome masked Lakhe Aju in a boss scene in the new Nepali video game, Jange. Wild red hair thrashing about, eyes glowing, Lakhe Aju pursues Jung Bahadur, who is dressed in a red shirt, blue cape, and a bird of paradise shripech crown. Jung is trying to avoid taking damage, while getting some hits of his own on the mythical demon. The Lakhe hurls fireballs that have to be dodged.&nbsp; The larger story at play here is a fictional, extrapolated historical Nepal where the country is under attack by infected aliens. Jung Bahadur, on horseback, wields a sword against the invaders.&nbsp; This is digital artist Ashim Shakya’s newest video game project that uses interactive gaming visuals to bring alive Nepali history and culture. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240923140924_82e368d0acd6eb89202124df358ab76e582b6e61efe5cafe56d85c44ad96ad28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240923140924_82e368d0acd6eb89202124df358ab76e582b6e61efe5cafe56d85c44ad96ad28" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="2079" loading="lazy" alt="Ashim Shakya | Allare NT"> </figure>  It is a work in progress, and we find Shakya working solo in constructing the game, integrating his many interests and talents in digital art, 3D modelling, music, video, and game development. It has been six years since he started the Jange project, and he documents recent progress on his YouTube. When he prepares a new aspect of the game, like vehicles, earthquakes or the Lakhe fight scene, Shakya uploads the sequence. “As the protector of Kathmandu Valley, Lakhe Aju is patrolling the borders of his domain and tests Jange’s might to decide whether to bless or devour him,” Shakya explains.&nbsp; Even Jange is a detour from another more lengthy, complex project called Allare, which translates to ‘directionless bum’ or words to that effect.&nbsp; Shakya explains: “Allare is about a young man who gets into a lot of trouble in his village and moves to old Kathmandu, where he must dabble in crime and struggle in order to shape up.”&nbsp; Allare is set in Kathmandu Valley in the 1960s, and has period visual elements like vintage blue jeeps, rattly buses, bicycles, and dirtbikes. Characters in the game are clad in traditional wear, and will talk to the player in Nepali when approached.&nbsp; A drunk character named Twake occasionally spews slurs, threats and starts fights. Shakya experimentally leveraged his YouTube audience to voice the drunk character, and received many &nbsp;enthusiastic submissions.&nbsp; It is obvious from the gameplay that a lot of effort has gone into it, and this is even more striking because Shakya is working on it all by his lonely self.&nbsp; “It is easier for me to do all the parts myself, instead of explaining what I want to someone else,” says Shakya, who used to be better known as a Nepali pioneer in digital art.&nbsp; Shakya puts in 16-18 hour days, breaking only to eat or to stretch. "Coffee helps, and if I hit a creative block I switch attention to making music, or to do client work.”&nbsp; Shakya is self-taught in skills and software tools in his workflow. He uses Maya and Nomad Sculpt to make the 3D models, then Photoshop and Procreate for their textures, and Unreal Engine and Blueprints for programming and game logic. Shakya draws from his previous experience in game development, having published on Google Play Store for Android devices. One of them is titled Flight: The Valley, described as ‘an offline meditative flying adventure’ where a player can become a monk that turns into a raven in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Two other games, Didi and Urban Legends - Survival, are also exploratory 3D games that feature models of Nepali buildings and objects. Urban Legends, in particular, is available for free, has registered over 100,000 downloads and has earned a 4.0 star rating. &nbsp; Jange and Allare will be released first on PC and then perhaps adapted to console and &nbsp;mobile. Given Shakya’s artistic skill set, his ability to integrate them, the time and effort he has put in, and his approach to story and community engagement means aficionados here and abroad can soon play exciting games that also pay tribute to the legends of old Kathmandu. &nbsp;

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