<img width="2048" height="1282" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101144/63720e1d9c7e80680e0b78fcjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>While many countries <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-reopening-for-tourists/">lift mask mandates and coronavirus restrictions</a>, Hong Kong and China are reeling from an Omicrons surge. Britain, the US and some parts of Europe are seeing a new spike in cases. In Nepal, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/omnipresent-omicron-starts-to-lose-its-edge/">public is determined to believe</a> that the worst is over. But there is a danger that China's Omicron surge will bring out a new variant. Hong Kong's Centre for Health Protection, Department of Health has urged all residents to avoid non-essential travel. The territory may soon impose a lockdown, just as China has isolated entire provinces. The surge in China and Hong Kong has been attributed to low natural immunity because of the zero-Covid strategy, the relative inefficacy of Chinese vaccines to Omicron, and the emergence of the Omicron BA.2 sub-variant.Meanwhile cases of a new hybrid strain that is as transmissible as Omicron and as serious as Delta, dubbed the 'Deltacron', has broken out in the United States and Europe.The WHO warned this week that the world is “only half-way” through the pandemic, and although news of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ukraine-crisis-hits-nepal-economy-hard/">Russia’s invasion of Ukraine</a> has overshadowed Covid-19, the virus is still spreading in unpredictable ways.Given all this, it may be prudent for Nepal not to lift all vaccine restrictions just yet. Masks and avoiding crowds must still be enforced to spread a future surge. Even though, as we have seen in the last two years, new variants can easily come in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-on-high-alert-for-omicron/">from travelers and spread in the community</a>.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-story-of-nepals-first-covid-19-fatality/">The story of Nepal’s first COVID-19 fatality</a>, Laxmi BasnetA number of European countries have relaxed restrictions and several states of the US have moved to eliminate mask mandates after a new guideline by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). The hope is that the pandemic is giving way to an endemic. An endemic has been described by the CDC as a ‘constant presence and/or usual prevalence of a disease or infectious agent in a population within a geographic area’. "We're almost there, it is now the beginning of the end, at least in the UK," Prof Julian Hiscox at the University of Liverpool told the BBC recently. "I think life in 2022 will be almost back to before the pandemic.” CDC director Rochelle Walensky echoed this, saying earlier this year that the pandemic is likely to become endemic in the US and around the world. Virologist Ian Jones of the University of Reading in the UK also said recently: “There is now no doubt that Omicron is attenuated and taking as a step toward endemicity”. Medical historians argue that most pandemics last between two and a half to three and a half years. Without a clear explanation and vaccination, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/remembering-a-pandemic-100-years-ago/">1918 Spanish pandemic</a> that infected one-third of the world’s population and claimed over 50 million lives fizzled out in 1919. An analysis suggests that the Omicron variant has now changed the shape of the global pandemic and this is likely to lead to the 'endemic world'. Chris Murray of the University of Washington takes the fact that despite the surge in infections, hospitalisation and fatality rates are still low as indication that we are now entering an endemic phase.Stephen Kissler at the Harvard T H Chan School of Public Health has been quoted as predicting: “Omicron will soon become endemic much like flu." Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/survive-revive-thrive/">Survive, revive, thrive</a>, EditorialWhat is puzzling scientists is why Hong Kong’s fatality rate is so high, while Omicron has not killed people at the same rate elsewhere. The risk of reinfection from Omicron is estimated to be 5–fold higher and this poses a danger to the high risk groups, elderly and to those not yet infected.Epidemiologists warn that the worst may yet to come of new variants emerge from the spread in China. Spreading to other parts of the world not yet infected to Omicron, this could have a devastating effect. Nevertheless, turning back the pages of the history of pandemics, we have seen that viruses naturally mutate and slowly evolve into an endemic phase that circulates at more manageable levels. The 1918 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/preparing-for-a-no-normal/">influenza strain may never have disappeared, and continued to mutate and circulate</a> to this day. What we need to develop and adopt is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-there-vaccine-hesitancy-in-nepal/">sustainable coping strategies, including vaccinations</a>. What are critically missing and paying least attention to is social interventions such as behavioural change, communication for mask wearing and avoiding crowds for the near future.Medical historians also agree that the pandemic ends socially before it ends medically. And proof of that is Nepal, where mot people seem to think that they no long have to worry about the pandemic. What if the virus has decided not to enter an endemic phase just yet?Mohita Upreti is Journalism student at St. Xavier's College, she regularly contributes to the College’s monthly newsletter - The Xavierian Chronicles.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-there-vaccine-hesitancy-in-nepal/">Why is there vaccine hesitancy in Nepal?</a> Sonia Awale

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From pandemic to epidemic to endemic

In 1966, the <a href="https://www.who.int/news-room/detail/13-12-2019-who-commemorates-the-40th-anniversary-of-smallpox-eradication" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">World Health Organization (WHO)</a> launched a worldwide campaign to eradicate smallpox. The aim was ‘zeropox’ -- not just control of the disease, but its complete elimination.After an aggressive campaign run by Nepal's autocratic government, the country saw its last case ever in 1975. The program should be celebrated. But what should also not be forgotten is that it sometimes resorted to heavy handed methods. Balancing public safety and individual rights was not easy.Historically, smallpox had been one of the world's biggest and most terrifying killers. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-smallpox-virus-in-british-india/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">In South Asia, the disease attacked young adults and children</a>, those born since the previous epidemic, leaving many disfigured or blind. In Nepal in the 19th  century, smallpox left few communities unscathed, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/smallpox-politics-and-power-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">even killed a king</a>.In 1966, smallpox still plagued 31 countries, annually infecting 10-15 million people and killing 2 million. Two areas caused the most concern: the horn of Africa and South Asia, including Nepal.Part I: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/big-story-of-small-pox-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Big story of smallpox in Nepal</a>Part II: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-smallpox-virus-in-british-india/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The smallpox virus in British India</a>Part III: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/smallpox-politics-and-power-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Smallpox, politics and power in Kathmandu</a>Part V: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/viruses-past-present-and-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Viruses past, present and future</a>		
							<figure><img width="1282" height="1386" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022112916110/63861ea09c7e80680e0ccdd8jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Smallpox vaccination statue outside the World Health Organization headquarter entrance in Geneva.</figcaption></figure>Nepal, a WHO official wrote in the early 1960s, ‘must be considered as one of the areas most highly endemic for smallpox in South East Asia’. In 1958, a wave of smallpox hit Kathmandu. A 1965 survey revealed that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/big-story-of-small-pox-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">16% of the Valley's total population had struggled with the virus at some point in their lives</a>. Those were the ones the disease hadn't killed.Each year a few imported cases appeared in the western hills. Don Messerschmidt describes a late 1963 outbreak along the hulakibato in Lamjung, but the main problem areas were the Kathmandu Valley and the Tarai, particularly the eastern plains because of heavy cross-border movement.<a href="https://www.who.int/features/2010/smallpox/en/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">WHO and the Nepal government launched a pilot program</a> in 1962 in Kathmandu Valley using new freeze dried vaccine, an improved version of the one Edward Jenner had devised in the 1790s, but got disappointing results.After two and a half years, only 30% of Valley residents were protected. WHO blamed ‘administrative problems and the religious and mundane objections of some sections of the population to vaccination’.In 1966, the program expanded countrywide, with new commitment and revised procedures, including better record keeping to prevent double counting. In 1971 the program started month-long mass vaccination campaigns. Each year for four straight years, several thousand temporary staff vaccinated 6 million Nepalis. Between 1967 and 1975, 39 million Nepalis got vaccinated or re-vaccinated.Another new strategy proved a game changer: aggressive surveillance and containment. Previously, officials had prioritised vaccinations. They had not traced and mapped infections, and thus did not know how many people had the virus and where. In 1971, a WHO official later wrote, ‘vigorous surveillance became the rule’.Surveillance meant routine house-to-house searches. Instead of waiting for cases to be reported, program workers went looking for them. Containment meant vaccinating and revaccinating the entire population near a newly discovered case. This was erring on the safe side by casting a broad net. The program also intensified tracing, detecting infection origins in a remarkable 95% of cases.The aggressive surveillance and containment methods delivered results. ‘It appeared that transmission had been interrupted,’ a WHO official noted later. Nepal had devised ‘a new and surprisingly effective tactic’.But then came a setback: ‘a tidal wave’ of new cases with nearly 2,000 new infections in 240 separate outbreaks. Three of every four of these cases were imports from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar in India where smallpox proved particularly recalcitrant. Of Nepal's 12 million population at the time, 90% lived within 100km of these Indian states.The program responded with more vaccination campaigns, surveillance, and containment, making steady progress. To address outbreaks in Morang the Nepal smallpox program in 1975 initiated a ‘watchdog’ system, a tactic recently devised in India. Staff were posted at the houses of infected people to ensure that they did not leave and that no unvaccinated person entered. Cash rewards were given to citizens and staff reporting new cases.In April 1975, Nepal saw its last case. A disease that had plagued Nepalis for centuries was gone. Looking back, WHO officials saw the surveillance and containment program as the key.‘The shift in strategy in 1971, laying great emphasis on surveillance-containment, was largely responsible for the success of the Smallpox Eradication Programme in Nepal,’ wrote the program's director in a 1977 wrap up report. ‘It is possible that transmission would have been interrupted earlier if the watchguard system had been adopted during 1974.’In many ways Nepal's eradication of smallpox was a heroic victory. The global smallpox program's director applauded Nepal's ‘remarkable accomplishments’. This narrative is not inaccurate but it is not the whole story.To begin with, smallpox eradication owed a great deal to biology. Compared to other diseases, smallpox was simply easier to eradicate. It was easy to see and diagnose (no asymptomatic infections) and did not re-infect people once gone. The disease's painful symptoms prevented movement, slowing transmission. Moreover, the vaccine was easy to administer and extremely effective. There was no virus reservoir among animals re-injecting the disease into human society again and again.Diseases like malaria and polio had far more natural advantages, and have proven much harder to eradicate globally.‘Without the particular characteristics of smallpox and the smallpox vaccine,’ historian Randall Packard has observed, ‘the disease would have been much more difficult to conquer, and the campaign would, in all likelihood, have failed. As it was, it only succeeded by the thinnest of margins.’One particular challenge was how to handle Nepalis who resisted vaccination. In the eastern Tarai, many people, particularly indigenous groups, held what a WHO report described as 'religious objections to vaccination’.WHO said this area became 'the scene of many problems of containment’. In Kathmandu, some Newar groups used to 'strongly object' to vaccination. In Kailali, some Tharus 'resisted vaccination for religious reasons'.Historian Susan Heydon notes that program workers often unjustifiably dismissed the concerns of Nepalis who resisted vaccination. Those who hesitated, she notes, were blamed as superstitious, derided as ‘backward and uneducated’.Instead, she faults the WHO program itself for not doing enough to educate the general population about the benefits of vaccination. She also notes that the program often administered vaccinations during hours next to impossible for ordinary working people.Eradication program workers also occasionally used unnecessary coercion. Coerced vaccinations were not common worldwide or in South Asia. But as historian Packard notes, there was a ‘tendency for aid workers to view themselves as somehow empowered to do whatever it takes to fulfill their mission, and to disregard local customs and laws’. In India and Bangladesh, historian Paul Greenough discovered that 'heavy-handed methods were sometimes relied upon'. On one occasion in Bihar in 1975, for example, health officials accompanied by police arrived at a tribal person's house by jeep at midnight, broke down the door, held down family members, and forcibly vaccinated them. Mandatory vaccinations and re-vaccinations as part of broad containment efforts sometimes sparked 'chaos' in villages.'Encounters with government vaccinators,' Greenough observes, were 'never about immunisation alone.' Religious, caste, and gender dynamics shaped interactions, as did ill will from previous health campaigns.One American health worker in India later recalled how a sense of unbridled self-righteousness led him to mistreat people. 'One of the rules was that everybody gets vaccinated. I was awful in my conviction of purity of purpose -- in breaking down doors and vaccinating crying women, etc.' To a large degree, the ends seemed to justify the means.Official reports, Greenough writes, often dismissed resistance and underreported coercion. He wishes there had been much more training for healthworkers and broader,more careful education for the public.In Nepal, one foreign smallpox fieldworker described how health workers sometimes had to search for Nepalis hiding from them in fear:‘... a good natured room to room search of houses with flashlights, accompanied by the village leader, would detect adults and children hiding under beds, in chests, large wicker baskets, and even in large clay storage vessels. However, the search was done as a game of hide and seek, with laughter after people were found and vaccinated, such as in one particular case where lifting the cover of a large wicker basket revealed two children hiding inside.’This may have been seemed like a game to health workers, but probably not to those Nepali men, women, and children with unknown government strangers searching for them. They seemed terrified.In the name of containing smallpox, a global health problem and an old scourge in Nepal, in the late 1960s and 1970s Nepal's government had tremendous authority to monitor and search Nepal's population. Maintaining public safety certainly justifies strong action, but the unnecessary infringement of individual rights and liberties must also be avoided as well.  This is the third in a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/big-story-of-small-pox-in-nepal/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/big-story-of-small-pox-in-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1588753218027000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEp4BFSGiWvId09CsLCgnF31j8F-w">series of articles</a> about the history of disease in Nepal. The fifth installment will look at what Nepal can learn from past epidemics in dealing with this one.  <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/how-chitwan-was-opened,4159" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/how-chitwan-was-opened,4159&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1588753218027000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGtSUyejPwwFFhYdaZjZohWFJUIQw">Tom Robertson</a>, PhD, is researching the environmental history of Kathmandu Valley.

Tom Robertson

How Nepal eradicated the smallpox virus

Who is accountable for teacher-student relationships?

Early on Monday morning, a bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu plunged off the highway in Dhading killing 19 passengers. Two weeks ago, another bus fell into the Tama Kosi in Manthali, killing 12. A few days before that a bus crash in Baitadi killed 13 people.&nbsp; In just the month before Nepal's election, more than 50 people have been killed in road traffic accidents. Most of these cannot be called 'accidents'. They are a direct result of poorly maintained highways and lack of enforcement of traffic discipline. Political parties in Nepal have rolled out their election manifestos, and voters are once again presented with a flood of promises. Page after page, these documents list megawatts and microcredit, highways and airports, jobs and investment. In these manifestos, growth is quantified, projects itemised, revenue forecast — and there are even threats to beat up contractors who do not finish their jobs. But when everything is declared a priority the stale promises are empty. The voter is left confused as to where the party’s loyalties really lie. Will any of these plans and pledges actually ever materialise and help Nepalis live longer, safer, healthier lives? The main job of any accountable government is to protect its citizens, not so much from foreign enemies but from domestic mismanagement. And this means the most basic test the new government should be made to pass is whether it can ensure basic well-being and protection for all its people. The problems of safety, health, and survival remain unresolved for most Nepalis, and are quietly eroding their lives. In the past year alone, the country’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">roads and highways claimed more than 2,300</a> lives. An estimated 41,000 Nepalis die each year directly because of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous">air pollution</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/air-pollution-killing-season-starts-early">lifespans are lessened by 3.4 years</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health">Non-communicable diseases</a> now account for well over half of total deaths in the country. And even where survival has improved, deprivation remains. Chronic malnutrition continues to haunt communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mass-migration-from-muktikot">Nepal’s western mountains</a> despite progress in maternal and child health.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  These are the lived realities of most Nepalis, and it is here that development can deliver its most immediate returns. A rising GDP, in and of itself, does not make roads safer, clean polluted air, or provide enough nutrition to children. Such outcomes demand intentional, granular policies that confront the specific, everyday problems shaping people’s lives.&nbsp; Macroeconomic growth, trade and investment are important, but these alone cannot guarantee improvements health and safety. The word ‘growth’, after all, is also synonymous with malignancy. Economic progress and human protection are correlated only when governance deliberately links them. Impact on life is the unit in which ordinary Nepalis calculate progress. What is needed, then, is a governing philosophy measurable in these same terms: a ‘life-first’ standard where every policy, budget, and reform can be understood and judged by its impact on protecting and extending human life. Such a ‘life-first’ approach would scrutinise three aspects of every policy. First, whether the policy prevents loss of life. A death is termed preventable if better, more coordinated response systems and regulations could have avoided it (vaccines, drugs, road safety, clean drinking water). A newly built six-lane highway <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/highway-accidents-are-no-accident-in-nepal">can be a death trap</a> due to poor design or lax enforcement of safety rules. If neonatal deaths continue in a district despite hospitals being present, or if malnutrition claims lives in predominantly agricultural regions, they too are failures. Preventable deaths also cluster where accountability is less direct. Just last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicides-a-pandemic-within-a-pandemic">Nepal recorded 6,866 suicides</a>, with nearly 20 lives lost every day, yet these deaths fail to prompt any serious examination of governance. The same holds for fatalities linked to domestic or communal violence, alcohol and substance misuse, or ‘natural’ disasters, which register as ‘tragedies without remedy’ rather than as outcomes policy can influence. But when avoidable loss of life recurs at scale, isolated incidents become patterns, and patterns reveal systemic neglect. Saving lives, however, is only the first step, and what matters just as much is the quality of years lived. Nepal’s life expectancy now stands at 71 years, yet many citizens spend years in avoidable disability, untreated chronic illness, or mental distress. A life- first government must ask not only whether people live, but whether they thrive. Are citizens able to pursue education, work, and family life without fear of preventable harm? Do communities have access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and basic healthcare? Can a teenager anywhere in Nepal imagine a future not foreclosed by premature marriage, or untreated depression?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940" data-rendition-name="original" width="2529" height="1427" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  Thriving requires policies that prevent suffering and promote well-being in addition to ensuring survival.&nbsp; Finally, governance must consider graceful aging. Elderly Nepalis should not be left to navigate disease, poverty, or isolation alone. Social systems, healthcare, and community support must enable their continued participation and dignified well-being. Adopting this three-layered standard would gradually reorient how success of any new government is defined. Transportation would be judged by fatalities reduced on the roads. Electricity generation would be measured by whether households can switch from firewood dependence to smoke-free electric stoves.&nbsp; Increase in annual rice harvest must translate into better nutrition, reducing the prevalence of chronic diseases like diabetes. Accountability must follow problems rather than stop at Singha Darbar. Only then will politicians and bureaucrats eventually recognise that their work converges on the same human endpoint. Critics will argue that economies are complex, trade-offs are inevitable, and that governance cannot be reduced to a single metric.But, as Acemoglu and Robinson show in their book <a href="https://ia801506.us.archive.org/27/items/WhyNationsFailTheOriginsODaronAcemoglu/Why-Nations-Fail_-The-Origins-o-Daron-Acemoglu.pdf">Why Nations Fail</a>, the key difference between prosperity and poverty lies in inclusive institutions that empower citizens and create broad incentives for well-being.&nbsp; Extractive institutions concentrate power and wealth in the hands of a few while keeping the majority trapped in neglect. Nepal’s governance has remained a striking example of extraction. If lawmakers in the new Parliament continue to resist changes that would save and improve the lives of ordinary citizens, the same systemic rot will persist for generations to come. A life-first mentality can cut through this inertia by clarifying the moral centre of governance and reminding policymakers that behind every policy failure lies human cost. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-hunger">Every mother in Bajura</a> with a child going hungry at night, every farmer in the Madhes unable to afford medical care, and every family that has lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">a migrant son to kidney failure</a> understands the true <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating">value of a life saved</a>. Life is the one metric that transcends ideology, ethnicity, and region. Centering governance on this single, focused metric, can shift an election from a contest of rhetoric to a contest of evidence. Which party ensured access to safe water and basic healthcare? Which made work at home and abroad safer and less exploitative. Which measurably extended healthy years of life for ordinary citizens? Health is wealth. By improving the healthy lifespan of citizens economic prosperity would follow naturally. A ‘life-first’ governance model would therefore compel Nepal to address the underlying structural failures across all sectors, rather than merely alleviating their symptoms. The GenZ protest that toppled the government last September was, at its core, a demand for accountability and a rejection of politics as usual. But as the country edges closer to the polls, that clarity has started to dissipate. Parties are now echoing the language of reform, but the public discourse remains dominated by promises that feel disconnected from Nepal’s most immediate and basic priorities. Every preventable death, every hungry child, and every neglected elder becomes a direct failure of governance and a moral debt the state must answer for. It is how we can make sure we keep the next government in check. The writers are Nepali GenZ students of biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Nepal’s life or death election

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible.&nbsp; In the lap of Langtang lie misty meadows that are carpeted with alpine flowers during the monsoon. It was here that Gyalbu Tamang (pictured, right) spent his childhood accompanying his father Pasang Norbu to high pastures, to milk nak and make cheese. Norbu himself was taught to produce Emmentaler cheese by two Swiss experts in the 1950s. Switzerland and Nepal are marking the 70th anniversary of diplomatic ties this year, and the cheese plant in Kyangjin was one of the first the Swiss were involved in.&nbsp; Langtang had surplus milk, and the idea was to turn it into cheese to raise nutrition levels. “The Swiss were very hard-working, and were not used to the laid back attitude of Nepalis,” remembers Gyalbu Tamang, now 50. “The children in Langtang were scared of the tall blonde foreigners, but I got along with them.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221070240_dd47ceaf71a505e075f4a3628baf70161a40ebd21bcec1b1a2ebe03b28da4293.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260221070240_dd47ceaf71a505e075f4a3628baf70161a40ebd21bcec1b1a2ebe03b28da4293" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang cheese"> </figure>  Gyalbu remembers sleeping outdoors with his father, under the stars and gazing at Langtang Lirung luminescent in the moonlight. After the milk was boiled, he helped carry it down in 40 litre churns to Kyangjin for processing.&nbsp; The plant was handed over to the state-run Dairy Development Corporation (DDC). Norbu Lama retired, but cheese making was too ingrained in him. So he bought a dozen yaks and Gyalbu helped him sell the milk. At 18, Gyalbu joined the cheese plant, and 32 years later, he is still there – now manager. “I had learnt everything from my father, so it was easy for me,” Gyalbu recalls. “Trekking boomed in Langtang and there was high demand for cheese. It raised the income of farmers.” 2015 EARTHQUAKE&nbsp; But all that came crashing down just before noon on 25 April 2015 when the earthquake triggered an avalanche that buried Langtang &nbsp;village. More than 300 people, many of them trekkers, were killed. “My father was grazing yaks, and we found him five days later, thrown off by the avalanche. My mother was buried in the ruins of her home,” Gyalbu says. Fortunately, his wife and three children in Kyangjin were safe in their damaged house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221070240_7c0d512514280965aa72511100a2bda4e515c52c6e6428665dc7dd88c62c7ebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260221070240_7c0d512514280965aa72511100a2bda4e515c52c6e6428665dc7dd88c62c7ebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="882" height="661" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang cheese"> </figure>  Twenty-seven herders and 400 yaks also perished. The cheese plant was flattened. Even before the disaster, an ageing population, out-migration, and better education meant that fewer Langtangpa were interested in cheese-making. The DDC’s mismanagement also took its toll, and at Rs80 / litre, it was not feasible to herd yaks anymore. The Swiss stepped in again to help rebuild the plant on condition that the price of milk be raised. The DDC agreed to pay up to Rs110/litre depending on fat content, and that price has remained the same.&nbsp; Gyalbu Tamang was in Kathmandu this week, trying again to convince the DDC to raise the price of milk to make cheese-making a worthwhile occupation for the younger generation.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221070240_61f302b28a3051006fedba92ac1a88ffab13a1ffb3154603bfc6693aee8fca5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260221070240_61f302b28a3051006fedba92ac1a88ffab13a1ffb3154603bfc6693aee8fca5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang cheese"> </figure>  There are only three yak ranches left and the numbers of yak, nak and dzo have shrunk. In its heyday, Langtang used to produce 5,000kg of cheese per year. Today, it is down to 800kg. The cheese is sold in Kathmandu for about Rs2,000 per kg, but the plant has no savings to upgrade its 80-year-old equipment. “We are on our own, there is not much help from the government or Langtang people overseas,” laments Gyalbu. “I do not know what the future holds, but I will keep making cheese as long as there is milk, and as long as I am able.”&nbsp;

Langtang Emmentaler

This week 30 years ago, the Maoists launched their armed struggle from the rugged mountains of Rukum, attacking a police post in Athbiskot on 13 February 1996 (Editorial, page 2). Today, Rukum has been partitioned into East and West, and is an electoral battleground for the 5 March poll between the former Supreme Commander of the Maoist party Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) and his erstwhile guerrilla commander Janardan Sharma (Prabhakar).&nbsp; The Maoist revolution was all about liberating the people of districts like Rukum from poverty, oppression and feudalism. The comrades promised to end inequality, social injustice, and exclusion in an insurgency they called ‘People’s War’.&nbsp; Today, 20 years after the conflict ended with the loss of 17,000 lives, not much has changed in both parts of Rukum. A motorable road does connect the district to the rest of the country, and it is the route many people have taken to migrate out.&nbsp; In one village in Rukum West, some young men paid as much as Rs8 million to human traffickers to take them to the United States. Some reached the US, but have been deported back to Nepal. Dahal has dropped the label ‘Maoist’ from his newly minted Nepali Communist Party and is contesting from Rukum East, while Sharma split from the party and is contesting from Rukum West as a Pragatisheel Loktantrik Party candidate. Newer faces from Rastriya Swatantra Party and Ujyalo Nepal Party are also in the race. Rukum was affected by the 2023 earthquake that killed 153 people and damaged 10,000 homes in Rukum West and Jajarkot. Many health facilities and schools collapsed, and one of them was Bheri Dovan Secondary School.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_4440ee7eeb935805db344c3bd91f7ed285fc9eec6910ee0d33bfc9410fa15acd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260221020232_4440ee7eeb935805db344c3bd91f7ed285fc9eec6910ee0d33bfc9410fa15acd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>This is my school by the river, seen from above. Chitrakala, 16</figcaption> </figure>  Reconstruction has been slow, but Finland and UNICEF have built a semi-permanent transitional learning centre with a gender segregated sanitation facility.&nbsp; STORIES IN PICTURES &nbsp; The project gave digital point-and-shoot cameras to 15 students between ages 11-16 who were interested in photography to take pictures of their daily lives. Eight girls and seven boys got a three-day basic training in photography. “The reason we chose this school was because it was completely destroyed and they have quite a few children from marginalised communities,” says Sabrina Guruacharya of UNICEF. “We wanted to invest in the creative skills of children and provide the space for them to tell their own stories in pictures.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_73b47852cd98061fc6b938273c7e40dbe5b8b8d0dbd9c528c2c1d295cd1b5ad1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260221020232_73b47852cd98061fc6b938273c7e40dbe5b8b8d0dbd9c528c2c1d295cd1b5ad1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>During the busy rice-harvesting season under Kartik’s gentle sun, farmers of Chinabagar, West Rukum. Lokendra, 14 </figcaption> </figure>  The theme of the photography workshop was to reflect on how the community was rebuilding after the earthquake. But instead of photos of destruction and ruined houses, the children took pictures of their family members, neighbours, friends, beloved pets and household livestock.&nbsp; They also took pictures of bridges, roads and telecom towers, neighbours harvesting crops, family members playing. In one frame, a girl is cooking over a traditional stove even as she scrolls through her smartphone. In another, six neighbourhood children are made to pose in a line -- a heartwarming portrayal of childhood innocence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_4a880ec63b39d5781e5fd240c7892fbb2a44287525b0e5f5af7b7fb44f72147f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260221020232_4a880ec63b39d5781e5fd240c7892fbb2a44287525b0e5f5af7b7fb44f72147f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>My sister was cooking while using her phone. Srishti, 13</figcaption> </figure>  “We are looking at new ways of storytelling that are inclusive and where young people are at the heart of the story. It’s their story, it’s them narrating,” says Guruacharya. Selected photographs were exhibited at Patan Darbar Square in January, as well as in the Rukum West school itself.&nbsp; The project is a direct beneficiary of an initiative in Finland where students raise money every time they walk to school. Finnish children then donate the money to their school, which in turn helps fund education in countries like Nepal.&nbsp; In a video about the program, participating students talk about learning the basics of photography such as different image sizes and camera angles, shooting at eye level and avoiding digital zoom for better results, understanding the perspective of light and motion, rules of composition and different lighting conditions, among others.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_bd935d88f2da60a8f5d6e802934947f9871bf2f763dadc876254a8fb779951a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260221020232_bd935d88f2da60a8f5d6e802934947f9871bf2f763dadc876254a8fb779951a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>I took this photo of my grandmother and my sister because I love my grandmother. Her age is also over 100 years and I wanted to take her picture. Birendra, 13 </figcaption> </figure>  It looks like some of the talented students are set to become content creators when they grow up, and UNICEF is now looking to replicate this in Madhes Province. The photographs taken by the children illustrate their everyday lives and concerns, which seems far away from the manifestos and stale electoral promises of candidates.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lzZkY9CvM4g?si=2QMEaRp9XTadRuu9" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

endemic

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Who is accountable for teacher-student relationships?

Nepal’s life or death election

Langtang Emmentaler

Rukum in the eyes of its children