The call came from Tokha one morning last autumn. A dog had been hit by a vehicle, his leg seriously injured. &nbsp; The <a href="https://katcentre.org/en/">Kathmandu Animal Treatment Centre (KAT)</a> emergency team quickly mobilised to rescue the dog, and brought him in for surgery to its clinic in Mandikhatar. His left front leg was so badly mashed up that it had to be amputated. Since the dog could not be released back on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-street-smart-dogs">the street</a>, he would spend his days recovering among other rescue animals at the shelter. He was named Kalle, but his battles were not over.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240731130744_98f92a7e3f834f868ab09162e3de683bfe42273907ba87161d27258f7fd410ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240731130744_98f92a7e3f834f868ab09162e3de683bfe42273907ba87161d27258f7fd410ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kalles cross continent journey NT 2"> </figure>  As he healed from surgery, Kalle battled other infections. With sheer willpower and a positive mental attitude, the dog did not just survive but thrived. Working at KAT Centre at the time was a Belgian volunteer named Antonia, who had come to Nepal on a holiday. Antonia and Kalle became best friends as she nursed him back to health, feeding and caring for him every day. Kalle loved her back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240731130744_58bcbd0e4a2074a2869344e0a476b11caca538da0f08f4239f327f5f476b83ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240731130744_58bcbd0e4a2074a2869344e0a476b11caca538da0f08f4239f327f5f476b83ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kalle's cross continent journey NT 1"> </figure>  And despite his difficult life on the streets, Kalle healed to become a spirited, determined dog, bonding with the people who had come to his aid. Antonia’s time in Nepal was coming to an end, and she returned to Belgium to complete her studies. But she missed Kalle terribly, and worried about his well-being. She decided to try to adopt Kalle and got back in touch with the Centre in Kathmandu. The adoption process was almost as complicated as the surgery. Samir Thapa, the doctor who had performed Kalle’s operation, worked through the complexities of international adoption and the logistical challenges of getting Kalle to Europe.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240731130744_73810b8bb2ba2d1fecfd845a1972fc14a3659d7fd607859c95e5cabcfe150168.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240731130744_73810b8bb2ba2d1fecfd845a1972fc14a3659d7fd607859c95e5cabcfe150168" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Kalle's cross continent journey NT 3"> </figure>  Then, just as all the paperwork was in order, Kalle fell ill again with an infection. Antonia was determined to nurse him back to health, and returned to Kathmandu in June Nto take Kalle to his forever home. Kalle is adjusting well to his new family in a new country on the other side of the world, faraway from the teeming streets of Kathmandu. &nbsp;

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Kalle’s cross-continental journey

<figure><img width="991" height="445" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19a59c7e80680e0ac82fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>An illustration from the book 'Sathi' by Jenny Campbell </figcaption></figure>Nepal is a land of despair and hope. Despite enormous hardships, Nepalis have learnt to survive, and indeed surmount them. There is injustice and exclusion, but also a surge of youthful activism. The present may look hopeless, but we still hold out hope for a better tomorrow.We <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/activists-against-animal-cruelty-at-nepal-temple/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">treat our animals badly</a>, yet we worship them as manifestations of our gods.This contrast between cruelty and compassion is this most pronounced in the lives of street fauna, creatures with whom we share our urban space. Dogs are mistreated, tortured and killed, but there are also many families which have adopted dozens of street dogs to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/wanting-nothing-in-return-but-love/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">feed and care</a> for, despite not having spare income. They may not be rich, but they display a richness of compassion for fellow beings.On <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/every-day-is-dog-day/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kukur Tihar</a> on 3 November this year, we will worship our pets and community dogs, garlanding and feeding them treats. But in the evening, many of the same families will light firecrackers to frighten the living daylights out of their dogs. This Tihar, like in previous years, many pets will get lost – desperately fleeing the explosions, until they have run too far to find their way back home.It is to draw attention to how street animals bring out the best (and sometimes the worst) in human beings that this Kukur Tihar will see the launch of another book about a Nepali dog. She is named Sathi, a dog that finds <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/angel-meets-an-angel/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a new life</a> thanks to kind hoomans. Appropriately, ‘Sathi’ means ‘friend’ in Nepali – after all, we are talking about man’s best friends.Sathi is an exquisitely illustrated bilingual book for children and adults that tells a fairy tale story of an abandoned dog, who is scalded on Kukur Tihar by a city shopkeeper. She is so angry that the dog is messing up her shop, she throws a bucketful of boiling water on the hapless pooch. Sathi is miserable and in pain as she licks her wounds at a garbage pile, until she finds a benefactor who takes her to the real-life animal shelter called KAT Centre in Kathmandu.Sathi is cared for at the dog home, and the burns on her back heal slowly. She makes friends with other dogs at the shelter who have also been attacked, abandoned, or hit by cars. There is Moti, Momo, Karma, Tashi – all with heart-rending stories from the streets.“You know, dogs are often not treated very well here in Kathmandu,” a dog named Karma who lost one eye to a knife-wielding attacker tells Sathi. “Not all people like dogs and they only honor us one day a year, on Kukur Tihar. The rest of the time, they don’t really care about us.”   Like most fairy tales, Sathi has a happy ending. But unfortunately, that is not the case for most of Kathmandu’s street dogs.Julu is the pseudonym of the author, a world traveler who cares about animals, and who has three dogs of her own. She was prompted to write the book after learning of a dog who had been burnt on her back because a neighbour did not want the dog bothering her. After seeing the dog lying in the rain, licking its burns, Julu decided to help. She got the dog into a shelter, and ultimately adopted by a family in Canada.This true story on which the book is based is explained in the Epilogue that also contains a list of animal shelters in Kathmandu that care for abandoned dogs and find homes for them. Part of the proceeds of the book will go to support some of these shelters.The last paragraph of Sathi is moving reminder to us that every day should be Kukur Tihar in Nepal: ‘Sathi closed her eyes and promised never to forget what life had been like for her and her friends, and what it was still like for the dogs still living on the streets. She vowed in her heart to spread the word to all the dogs of Kathmandu, about what it could be like, to be adopted into a loving family.’Sathi is available for sale to worldwide audiences on the <a href="https://www.vajrabookshop.com/categories/children-books/products/sathi--the-street-dog-from-kathmandu">Vajra Books website</a>. For US and Canadian residents, it is also sold <a href="http://www.SathiStreetDog.org">here</a>.Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SathiStreetDog/">Sathi</a>Author’s Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100070971172156">page</a>. <a href="mailto:SathiStreetDog@gmail.com">SathiStreetDog@gmail.com</a> <a href="mailto:Vajrabooksktm@gmail.com">Vajrabooksktm@gmail.com</a>SathiThe Street Dog from Kathmandu, Nepalसाथीकाठमाडौँ सडकको एक कुकुरJuluillustrations by Jenny CampbellNepali translations by Angeela Shrestha and Suraj ShresthaRs600, $14.95ISBN: 978-9937-624-10-7<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19a79c7e80680e0ac830jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="882" height="668">

Adventures of a Kathmandu street dog

<figure><img width="1876" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b93859c7e80680e06f1acjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: JANAK KAPALI</figcaption></figure>Just before all flights were grounded during the Covid-19 lockdown last year, dog trainer Janak Kapali was at Kathmandu airport to see off a street dog being adopted by a family in Canada, when he was surrounded by a pack of hungry strays. One of them stood out, a snow-white one that was calm, gentle and unlike the rest of the pack that lived in the pre-departure area. She sat quietly next to the red kennel with the rescued dog being sent off (photos, above).  Kapali noticed her at the airport whenever he came to arrange for the departure of one of the rescued dogs, and she always sat next to the pet carriers -- as if to say her own farewells to the dogs that were leaving. “Every time I came to the airport, she was there, guarding the kennel while we waited for the dogs to be put on their flights,” says <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jkapali" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.facebook.com/jkapali&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624247192791000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEOyX-lNgro8IyCjXIIdKnsY-1BDg">Kapali, 45</a>, who shelters 14 rescued dogs in his <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Rambo-Abbie-Dog-Training-Center-112532196981120" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.facebook.com/Rambo-Abbie-Dog-Training-Center-112532196981120&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624247192792000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGFz3ugeZLKIJu__Hkly0wlUS0bqg">Rambo Abbie Dog Training Centre</a> (named after his own pets) in Kathmandu.  Kapali noticed that with flights mostly cancelled during the lockdown, the unowned dogs at the airport had become emaciated because there were no humans to feed them. So, he took to offering the white dog snacks every time he was at the airport. The white dog now has a name, Angel. And she is at the <a href="http://katcentre.org.np">KAT Centre</a> which works for animal welfare in the Valley. Angel has already got her shots, and her travel documents sorted out before departure.   Akash Dahal at KAT Centre was struck by Angel's calm demeanour three months ago at the airport when he was seeing off another batch of rescued dogs. “I have never before come across a street dog like Angel, she is just so well behaved and intelligent, as if she has been trained, she got along with the other dogs and she understood me,” says Dahal. Lesley Mapstone, founder of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/214415339708747" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.facebook.com/groups/214415339708747&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624247192792000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFy0y4URGyr0JCcizpvTKxpQqfpyg">Temple Dog Rescue</a> in Canada, who supports animal welfare organisations in Nepal, also noticed Angel in airport photos taken by Kapali, and in videos posted by KAT Centre. It was she who named the dog 'Angel of Tribhuvan'.Mapstone has been a frequent visitor to Nepal and was always moved by street dogs huddled in cardboard boxes at street-side garbage piles near Swayambhu.  One afternoon three years ago, she followed a puppy to its mother and siblings living on a sidewalk. She started feeding them daily, but the mother and litter were in bad shape. She took them for treatment at the KAT Centre, but the vets were only able to save a female puppy.    Mapstone named the pup Dawa, and adopted her. With Dawa by her side in Canada, Mapstone’s Temple Dog Rescue has been helping KAT Centre with fundraising to carry on with its work in feeding and sheltering <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/bhaktapurs-dog-catchers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu’s community dogs</a>, which have been going hungry during the long lockdown.  Temple Dog Rescue also helps place dogs up for adoption with new families, and has helped find homes for dozens of strays from Nepal and Egypt. And it has found Angel a home. The four-year-old is being adopted by an award-winning Canadian activist against domestic violence, and will soon have a large 20 hectare property to explore in Ontario. Through GoFundMe, Angel now also has a one-way ticket and is waiting for her own flight from Kathmandu airport, where she said goodbye to so many of her canine friends. “Angel’s story about being an airport dog was so compelling that she was very popular during the fundraising, and soon she will have a loving home and lots of space to roam around and play,” Mapstone told Nepali Times by phone. Meanwhile in Kathmandu, animal welfare activists are busier than ever <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/singha-darbar-dogs-go-hungry-in-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caring for street animals during the lockdown</a>. KAT Centre and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/snehazcare" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.facebook.com/snehazcare&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624247192792000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGELN3xdPdAsgIISxhMLTB4jUg3Pw">Sneha’s Care</a> have been feeding dogs, cows and even temple monkeys which have been deprived of their usual source of food. The empty roads also mean that there has been a horrendous rise in dogs and cows sitting on the asphalt being hit by speeding cars. Sneha’s Care last week signed an MoU with Lalitpur Municipality to turn the city into an ‘animal friendly metro’, in the hope that it will be a model for other municipalities in Nepal to better care for street animals with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dog-bites-man-is-still-news-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">anti-rabies</a> vaccination campaigns, sterilisations, and control mistreatment.  Animal welfare organisations are often asked why they pay so much attention to dogs when people are also suffering during the pandemic. Sneha Shreshta of Shena's Care answer to them is: “Looking after suffering animals is also a part of what it means to be a human being.”Not all street dogs in Kathmandu are abandoned, many are community dogs. But many of these neighbourhood animals are also going hungry because of the lockdown, and have to forage in garbage piles to survive. Janak Kapali says he has noticed growing awareness in communities about the need to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/every-day-is-dog-day/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">take care of dogs all year around</a>, and not just worship them during Kukur Tihar. Nepal’s animal care organisations have increased their profile, and there is now better response when abandoned dogs are put up for adoption. “Unlike in the past, we now get inquiries about street dogs for adoption, although many more still prefer popular dog breeds,” says Dahal of KAT Centre. “Having people to volunteer with us is more important than donations because once people work closely with these animals, they have better empathy for them.” It is difficult to find Nepali families wanting to adopt older, or disabled dogs and those that are not pure breeds. Which is where foreign adoptions have helped with finding homes for dogs that have been injured in acid attacks, or wounded in traffic accidents.  Adds Mapstone of the Temple Dog Rescue: “<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/wanting-nothing-in-return-but-love/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Street dogs</a> can be just as gentle and loyal and as willing to please as any other breed, they just need a chance and that is what we are doing.” <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121148/636b93889c7e80680e06f1adjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>US suspends dog importsThe US Centre for Disease Control (CDC) has banned dogs being brought into the country from 100 countries for one year because of an increase in the number of dogs with fake anti-rabies vaccine certificates.The ban has been criticised by animal welfare agencies, and will affect dozens of dogs who have been delayed in joining families that have adopted them because of the lockdown. The US has seen a sharp increase in pet adoptions from abroad during the pandemic as lonely families cooped up at home needed companionship. However, the CDC says that more than 450 dogs arriving at US airports were found to have fake rabies certificates in 2020.This is a small proportion of the nearly 1 million dogs that are adopted and imported in the US every year, but the CDC says it is taking no chances. The ban on imports will go into effect from 14 July, and there is a rush to take dogs to the US where the authorities have become extra-strict in checking rabies papers.Among the 100 countries from which dog imports are suspended are China, North Korea, Vietnam, Nepal, Brazil, Kenya, Uganda, Colombia, Russia and others. Most European countries are not on the list.

Sonia Awale

Angel meets an angel

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;

Saving the Kusunda language from extinction

A lot of the most critical healthcare software used in the United States, from insurance, medical records, &nbsp;analytics, billings to general operations are made in Nepal.
Coding is outsourced to IT companies in Nepal because it is cheap, and there is a large pool of coders with 15,000 graduates entering the job market every year.&nbsp;
Churn is low, and programming remains a desirable career, with people able to work remotely for high pay with little investment, often even without a degree.
Indeed, building US healthcare software holds up the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-needs-to-be-more-intelligent-about-ai">growing Nepali IT industry</a> which last year exported software worth $900 million, nearly as much as Nepal earns from tourism every year.
IT exports have a long history, starting from when Rudra Pandey co-founded D2Hawkeye, which pioneered healthcare analytics. The company is now Verisk Health. &nbsp;
There are over 15 technology companies that specialise in medical software, operating mostly as subsidiaries of US companies, but some are also ‘vendors’ that are completely Nepali-owned.
One such company is <a href="https://techkraftinc.com">TechKraft</a>, which builds software for clients across the world in healthcare, but also in finance. Its Executive Director Santosh Koirala says: “A big advantage Nepal has in making US healthcare software is simply how long it has been involved in it. This has created many domain experts, and new programmers here are technically excellent as well.”&nbsp;
The trust and skills that companies and individuals have built up is also how TechKraft gets clients, referrals and business, and they have to strictly ensure data security and privacy protection.
“This is personal information about people’s insurance, their visits to the hospital, their diseases. Any breaches could lead to expensive lawsuits,” says Koirala.&nbsp;
While it is much easier for subsidiary companies to keep data within their systems, vendors must put in place multiple layers of physical and cybersecurity to convince clients to work with them. They must work in what is called a ‘cleanroom’: a controlled environment where teams can work on sensitive data without compromising security or privacy.&nbsp;
Laptops and even pen and paper cannot leave the workplace, and all employees must pass training in globally recognised information security standards.
AI is transforming processing of healthcare data, and companies like TechKraft have integrated it in everything they do. Agentic AI is designed for a high level of autonomy, and can handle booking, rescheduling, and reminders for patient visits, detect anomalies in medical imagery, analyse patient data to create custom treatment plans, predict outcomes, even catch medical fraud.&nbsp;
AI also helps programmers at TechKraft write better code, faster. “AI has had a huge impact on our workflow, it is faster and more efficient,” says Koirala, ”but since it makes things so much easier, it may become harder to find business.”&nbsp;
It also means that a project may require only four engineers skilled with AI instead of say, ten. The remaining six are out of a job.
Another Nepali company, <a href="https://wiseyak.com">Wiseyak</a>, also works on a host of AI healthcare products. One is software that can diagnose diabetic retinopathy and pneumonia at least as well as the best doctors. Another is AI-EMR algorithms that can analyse patient data to provide insights and recommendations.&nbsp;
“We help doctors by building powerful tools, and not replace them.” says co-founder and CEO of Wiseyak Suresh Manandhar, who has been studying and working with AI for 40 years, long before it became a part of everyday life.&nbsp;
Wiseyak now wants to make software that can be used in Nepal’s hospitals to diagnose various diseases. For retinopathy, an AI is trained on publicly available datasets of retinal scans.&nbsp;
The model can then learn to detect a range of symptoms such as microaneurysms in the eye, ‘cotton wool’, and macular degeneration. It can then make a diagnosis based on the quantity and size of the anomalies it detects.&nbsp;
“AI can be fine tuned by feeding it retinal scans of Nepalis,” says Manandhar who admits to difficulties because medical records in Nepal are still paper-based and not digital, and few hospitals want to retool. “The government should &nbsp;invest and build momentum to adopt these technologies.”&nbsp;
Santosh Koirala of TechKraft is also president of Nepal Association for Software and IT Services Companies (NAS-IT), a group that focuses on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/self-learning-comes-before-machine-learning">policy and advocacy with the government</a>. He is optimistic about gradual progress in lobbying efforts.&nbsp;
“The government is slowly getting it,” he told us. “Removing limits to Foreign Direct Investment and allowing Nepali companies to have offices abroad are big steps in the right direction.”&nbsp;
NAS-IT also advises universities on the development of courses to keep students up to date with the latest developments in AI, as well as pushing for data insurance to make clients less reluctant to work with Nepali companies.
Both Koirala and Manandhar are optimistic about the general direction Nepal’s IT sector is going in, and can build on.
&nbsp;“There is a lot of potential which is being recognised quite quickly,” says Koirala. “We know the technology now, and we know how things are done at a global level. The next step is for Nepal to start making products that can be used widely across the world.”&nbsp;
IT products for application within Nepal are now designed in Nepal itself, and software companies such as eSewa were ahead of their time in the region.
Manandhar is also bullish: “There is no limit to how helpful AI can be for Nepal. Trained, super-specialised doctors are scarce, so AI can be a substitute and make them three, four times more efficient.” &nbsp;&nbsp;