<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfbad9c7e80680e0a0b47jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>She towered over me like a lone poplar tree. She was four years older than I was at the time she came to live with us. Sita was the eldest of her siblings and her father had sent her to Kathmandu so she could contribute to the family income.Ten-year-old Sita’s job was to babysit for one of our relatives—two babies watching one another. When a bunch of grapes disappeared, the employers decided to dismiss the babysitter. Sita was just being a child picking and popping into her mouth something she liked the taste of, but she was supposed to be an ‘employee’ and expected to behave like an adult.Her father insisted that she stay in Kathmandu, and so the child remained, moving from one home to another, as employers tired of her antics. One of them had to yank her off the balcony railing, after which, she was sent to ours.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/welcome-to-suburbia/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Welcome to suburbia</a>, Pratibha TuladharWhen I asked my mother recently why she had accepted a child as helper, she said it was because she knew that she would be sent somewhere else if not to ours, and that she thought a house with two girls would be safer for her.Sita showed up one afternoon on the motorbike of her former employer at our home on the outskirts of Kathmandu. She was carrying a small bag of clothes. She was wearing a kurta with traces of lint—something I had seen my relative wear before, now altered to fit a 14-year-old.I had met Sita before when I had visited my relatives, a radiant face resting on tall, lean limbs. Her eyes were light brown and her hair the same colour, resting in an array of curls over her forehead and her temples. She did not look much different when she arrived at ours. And neither did she look nervous for someone coming to live in a new place.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/be-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">My mother</a> and Nini got busy after her arrival, making arrangements for a bedding of a single mattress, a pillow and a blanket. She would sleep in my room, on the floor. I couldn’t understand the arrangement, but I got used to it.She folded her bedding every morning, arranging it under my bookshelf which hung on the wall. If sometimes she saw me sitting on it with a book between my fingers, she would tell me to get off in fluent Newa: “Maicha! Ana makhu.”Sita made our home hers, quickly. She was expected to bring my sister and me to the bus stop everyday and help Mam run errands. But Mam complained that “the child” delayed her. Clearly, she also made her laugh.Mam, with wisps of gray sticking over her head would sit under a tree in the afternoons, smoking her beedi. On a hot day, she would fall asleep under the tree, and Sita would get to work, poking her ear with a leaf. Furious, Mam would clench her hand into a fist and threaten to hit Sita. “This girl has too much energy. Utauli, chakchaki!”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfbb09c7e80680e0a0b48jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853">And as if to prove the point, Sita made sure to punctuate our days with events. One morning, as we waited for our school bus to arrive, Sita pointed at the pipal tree and said, “Nests!” And before we knew, she was climbing the tree.“Sita Didi!” we yelled from below, as she scrambled up like she knew the tree branch by branch. When we got into the school bus, I craned my neck to watch her from the window as the bus raced off with us inside. My heart pounding, I caught a glimpse of her stretching one arm to grab the nest.When we stepped off at the bus stand that afternoon, Mam was waiting for us. Sita had been grounded. Upon entering my room, I saw two weaver birds’ nests. One was over a foot long, the other one was smaller. Sita had nailed them to two corners of our room. I dumped my bag on the floor to touch them.“I saw you read about them in your sience book,” she beamed. My science book had a chapter on different kinds of bird nests, one of them had been the weaver bird’s nest.A couple of weeks later, Sita was allowed to go to the bus stand again. As we waited under the pipal tree, my sister wept. She hadn’t finished her homework. Sita pulled out her notebook and hurriedly wrote her homework for her. “There, your teacher won’t scold you now.” She whacked my sister’s head, “Badmass!”Coming home from school was also coming home to Sita’s radiant face. One time, she greeted us with bruises all over her limbs, spiky branches strewn over the front porch. She had climbed a thorny tree to gather firewood for Shivaratri, bringing down fresh branches that would not burn.When my mother exclaimed how terrified she had been that she might fall, Sita reminded her that she had “conquered” a pipal tree. I did not understand my mother’s patience with her.One afternoon, Sita locked herself in the kitchen for hours. When she unlocked the door, she had made aloo achar. She said it was her “especial” for us, the first time she had cooked. The potatoes were raw and I told her the achar was horrible. But my mother ate it, smiling as she did.When Sita turned 15, her father showed up. Mam found her hiding at the dhunge dhara by the hillside. It was time for her to go home. When we returned from school her bedclothes still sat under my bookshelf but the lightness of her presence was missing. It angered me that no one had told me she was leaving, but no one tells a child such things.Sita had been “<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/child-marriage-in-Nepal,3863" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">given away in marriage</a>” after she went back home, we heard. A decade later Sita visited my mother in our home in Maharajganj, when she brought a relative to the Teaching Hospital.“She leaned against the wall the entire time we talked. She was wearing a red cotton sari and had grown much taller and fuller. But she looked tired,” my mother recalls.We haven’t heard from her since, but my mother likes to punctuate our kitchen conversations with Sita anecdotes.Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

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<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181148/636a96779c7e80680e05dc6ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/>A horrific incident on the morning of 6 September 2019 changed Muskan Khatun’s life forever. The 14-year-old was attacked with acid on her way to school. Images of a recovering Muskan went viral on social media. Messages of support poured in from strangers, celebrities visited her bedside, popular Indian actors called her on video.Muskan, which means smile, might be one of the luckier survivors. Her family supports her wish to get an education, the Nepali public has praised her for staying positive and despite her harsh scars, she remains hopeful for the future.Between 2010 and 2017, Burn Violence Survivors (BVS-Nepal), a Kathmandu-based NGO, has recorded about 40 cases of acid attacks annually. On several occasions, these attacks have led women to develop depression. Half of the suicide cases in Nepali women aged 15-49 follow burn violence.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/alarming-rise-in-violence-against-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Alarming rise in violence against women</a>On 25 November, as we mark the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women and Girls, we must remember Muskan’s plight and think about what more we can do to help end all forms of <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/corrosive-conduct/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">gender-based violence</a>.I am encouraged that the Government of Nepal has declared Nepali year 2076 as the year for ending gender-based violence. The federal government, along with provincial and local authorities, is working hard to ensure that the campaign’s messages trickle down to the local level.Gender-based violence has many different forms and varies in magnitude. To make sense of it all and support the government’s initiatives, having good data is crucial. This gives the work better direction by identifying pertinent issues and informing good decision-making, especially where resources are limited.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/four-fold-increase-in-reported-rape-in-10-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Four-fold increase in reported rape in 10 years</a>, Sewa BhattaraiIn my short time in Nepal, I have been fortunate to engage with heads of governments at all three levels, as well as with women human rights activists and community leaders. I am convinced that the Government of Nepal has taken ending gender-based violence seriously.The UK is happy to be supporting this work in Nepal, along with several other donors, multilateral agencies and civil society actors. Our global strategic vision for gender work has five main components, all of which need to be underpinned by good data if we are to be successful in eliminating gender-based violence.Data shows us that education plays a critical role in helping reduce the instances of gender-based violence. While 49% of Nepali women who experienced gender-based violence at home were illiterate, only 13% who had higher than secondary level education had similar experiences. The UK’s Girls’ Education Challenge focuses on communities that have fallen behind in educating the girl child.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/republic-of-rape/">Republic of rape</a>There is lots of room for progress, but data shows that overall, only 53% of currently married women use a method of family planning, with 10% using a traditional method. Three out of every 5 women who began using a contraceptive method in the 5 years before the survey discontinued the method within 12 months.Because there are more new stories around gender-based violence, it tends to give the impression that people’s awareness has also improved. However, data has helped us identify that we need to do more work around building awareness of violence against women and girls: 78% of Nepali women and girl survivors of gender-based violence have never sought any help, including from the police or even getting checked by a doctor. 66% of survivors remained completely silent about the violence.In Nepal, women spend more hours doing paid work and shoulder more than three times the amount of unpaid labour as their male counterparts. Despite this, women earn less money and own but a small percentage of the country’s wealth. Although Nepal has one of the highest rates of economic participation by women in Asia, most women do lower skilled, insecure jobs that pay less than men. Only 11% of women own their own piece of land, while only 8% of women own a house.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15584#.XdZzKdUzbIU">The invisible</a>, Mallika AryalNepal’s new Constitution has put more women in decision-making roles than at any point in Nepal’s history. One way for these decision-makers to be effective at their roles is by being able to understand and use data to make evidence-based decisions. Our Evidence for Development program (E4D) aims to improve the quality of such data, including better data disaggregation, to provide better information to policy and decision-makers on specific groups of people, including women. It also trained civil servants to understand and use data better.Working with data helps us to continually assess our work to tackle gender-based violence, better understand the current challenges and empower women and girls to take control of their lives. This is why DFID is supporting the upcoming 16 days of activism, with a social media campaign focusing on how data can help us address gender-based violence.Publishing this data helps us work in an open and transparent manner. The numbers hold us to account for the state of things and push everyone to do more.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/daughter-slaughter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Daughter Slaughter</a>, Monika DeupalaLisa Honan is the Head of Office for the UK’s Department for International Development (DFID Nepal) in Kathmandu.

Using numbers to fight gender-based violence

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50529c7e80680e04fd53jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>TIMELY ADVICE: After providing implants at a remote health post in Baitadi recently, visiting service providers Madhavi Bhatta and Ashmita Bohora warn sisters Hasa and Harina Sarki (seated, left) of possible side effects. Pics: ROJITA ADHIKARI</figcaption></figure>Two nurses visiting distant Maharudra Health Post in Baitadi had packed up, said goodbye to staff and started down the road when two local women waved down their jeep. “We want to have an implant,” they said.The nurses told the women they would be back next week, but they insisted: “We have walked three hours, leaving our breastfed babies to get our implants.” The nurses relented, the jeep turned around and returned to the health post.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrating-males-and-population-decline/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Migrating males and population decline</a>, Om Astha RaiThe local women were lucky. Only half of health facilities in Nepal provide all five major contraceptives as part of their regular services. Implants and long acting reversible contraceptives (LARC) are not easily available, mainly due to lack of trained staff. Filling that gap are visiting service providers at remote health posts like this one in Baitadi.Only 43% of all married women of reproductive age in Nepal have access to modern contraceptives, according to the Demographic Health Survey (DHS) 2016 report. Although it was only 26% in 1996, there is still a huge unmet need for family planning.Nepal’s population clock will touch 30 million next month, but the country’s falling fertility rate means that population will stop growing in three decades after it reaches 37 million. A Nepali woman on average had 6 babies in the 1960s, now she has 2, which is below the population replacement level.The two women who stopped the nurses were Hasa Sarki, 23, and her sister Harina, 20 (pictured, right). Hasa already has four children, and Harina has two. The sisters live in the same house in Lakhulla village, about three hours walk from the health post.“When we heard the implant nurses were here, we took off, leaving our food and shouting to my husband to take care of the baby,” said Harina.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lets-talk-about-it/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Let’s talk about it</a>, Duksangh Sherpa<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50559c7e80680e04fd54jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50589c7e80680e04fd55jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">The sisters are Dalits from a community of subsistence farmers. Hasa was married at 15 and already has three daughters and a son. The land does not provide food for the family, so Hasa’s husband goes to India six months a year.“My husband and I decided to have five years’ pregnancy prevention as we can’t afford to have any more children. I am so happy that after today I will be safe for five years,” added Hasa.One of the nurses, Binda Saud, says the number of women requesting contraceptives even in these remote areas is growing, but the one medic trained in inserting implants was transferred and there is no one to do it in the health post. Which is why the government has mobilised 63 visiting service providers (VSP) in 14 districts across Nepal to promote implants and IUCDs, with support from the UN Population Fund and British agency DFID.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/globe-rallies-to-aid-nepals-women,3841" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cutting the lifeline</a>, Kate RyanLack of personnel trained in implants is just one barrier in remote villages, where many people still believe that birth control is against god’s wishes. As a result, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/baby-factory-bajura-nepal,4018" target="_blank" rel="noopener">women give birth annually</a> and many are anaemic, malnourished, and some die.“One of the worst cases I have faced is that of a woman who had seven children who told me she wanted five years’ protection, but when I started the process of putting an implant into her arm she started shaking and saying god will not forgive her; she changed her mind,” recalled the other auxiliary nursing midwife, Madhavi Bhatta.There are families in these remote mountains where mothers and their daughters-in-law give birth together. Laxmi BK, 37, and her daughter-in-law Puja BK, 19, gave birth within months of each other. Laxmi was married when she was 14, and now has 8 children, including the youngest who is 18 months. Puja got married when she was 16, and gave birth to her first child a year ago.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a505c9c7e80680e04fd56jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1296" height="544">“I don’t know much about contraception, I used an injection once but it led to bleeding and I thought I would die, so I decided never to use it again,” Laxmi said.The VSP approach was piloted by the government in Ramechhap district in 2015, and after positive results was expanded  in 2018.“It is a cost-effective way to substantially increase the uptake of five modern family planning methods in areas of low use and high unmet demand for contraception,” explained Amit Dhungel of UNFPA Nepal.The government is also encouraged by the success of the initiative, especially for delivery of family planning. “VSPs travel to remote areas which are difficult for the government to reach,” said Kabita Aryal at the Department of Health in Kathmandu. “That fills the gap in health facilities and health workers.”Getting the right contraception in the right place at the right time can change a Nepali woman’s life. That hope could be seen in the smiles on the faces of Hasa and Harina Sarki last month as they hurried home to their families with their new implants.<h2>Happier now</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a505e9c7e80680e04fd57jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Kalawati Chand, 31, from Khaligad village in Baitadi, (above) received an implant at a VSP camp two years ago, and says it is a big relief not to be worried about getting pregnant.“I already had two abortions, and I used to get pregnant every year, which means I was not able to focus on my children and even the farm. This had led to discord in the family,” Kalawati said. “But now I have more time for my children, husband and to go to the fields. We are happier now.”Setu Mahata, 26, (below) was waiting at Udayadev Health Post in Baitadi, a 1.5 hour walk from her home recently. The mother of two had been taking pills, but she heard that a VSP was coming and wanted to get a 5-year protective implant.“It is really convenient that the nurse comes here, otherwise I would have to spend two days going to another health post, and that would be expensive,” she said.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/child-marriage-in-Nepal,3863" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Far too young,</a> Sonia Awale<h2>ISPs</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50619c7e80680e04fd58jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Call them ISPs, (implant service providers) these nurses are at the frontlines of reducing Nepal’s birth rate. The visiting service providers are female staff nurses or auxiliary nursing midwives (ANMs) trained to use long-acting reversible contraceptives (LARCs) and provide family planning services, especially in hard to reach areas and for minority groups. They also coach and support existing health workers to deliver quality, comprehensive family planning services.“I have been working as a VSP since the start and I have travelled to all 69 health facilities of Baitadi district. We have provided more than 2,100 IUCDs and implants in this district alone,” says ANM Madhavi Bhatta.Travelling in one of Nepal’s remotest and most rugged districts is not easy. Bhatta sometimes has to walk nine hours a day to reach health posts. What motivates her is the smile she sees on the faces of the women once they get their implants.“I can see the happiness, relief and satisfaction on their faces. It makes me forget all the hardship of getting to them,” says Bhatta.

Implant service providers take contraception to Nepal's poor

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46ed9c7e80680e04d404jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1283"/><figcaption>Pic: DIWARKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>Buying a bouquet for a friend’s wedding the other day, I got really involved in the process of choosing the flowers, arranging the blooms and packaging them up. So much so, I was bent over and stooping about the little flower shop to find the right coloured ribbons, paper and paraphernalia.That’s when my husband noticed my clothes.Light coloured, because I dressed to cope with the stifling summer heat of the valley, traces of my undies showed through when I leaned down to scrutinise some ribbons. He noticed. And according to him, others noticed too.Should I feel ashamed that they did? Should I wear the burden of having males stare at my bottom when I happen to bend over, or stare at me when I walk? It’s not often I’m scrounging about a small shop exposing my bum to the world. When I walk, the pants don’t pull tight enough to look ‘indecent’ or ‘vulgar’.In a country where exposed bellies under the drapes of saris are normative, or push-up bustiers and sexy, diaphanous tailoring are to be seen at any given wedding or celebratory event across the city, why am I made to feel like I’ve committed a great sin by wearing my kind of fuss-free, breezy fashion that happens to be in a light colour and fabric? Why should my girlfriends feel intimidated by people staring at them when they wear skirts or shorts cut above the knees?It is no wonder to me that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/daughter-slaughter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">abuse of women and girls in Nepal</a>, and in the rest of the subcontinent, is prevalent.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/corrosive-conduct/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Corrosive conduct</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/four-fold-increase-in-reported-rape-in-10-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Four-fold increase in reported rape in 10 years</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#TheyToo</a>, Sewa BhattaraiIf women are yoked with the responsibility of presenting ourselves in ways that do not offend the male or conservative gaze, where would the blame lie should such offence be taken, I would ask. Also, should we start examining the dynamics of treating women and girls in ways that are harmful to their well-being, in the name of tradition and religion and along class and caste strata?Generally speaking, like other South Asians, many Nepalis are quick to judge and bred to not question the status quo. In a situation like mine, with a Nepali husband who by so many measures is modern in his mindset, I am constantly surprised at the sudden yanking of traditional mores at my ankles.It’s not like me to be too affected by it. I’ll shake it off, like I’m doing now, but I’m irritated. I’ll voice my disharmonising opinions, and I’ll keep wearing what I want to, and doing what I need to, as long as I’m not hurting anyone to the best of my discretion. I’m a woman who knows herself and knows her self-worth as a human being.However, there are many women brought up in this country who don’t have the mindset that I do, perhaps fortunately for them, so that the harmony of life as they know it is maintained. I understand that unquestioning acceptance is often exercised in this culture I’ve chosen to be immersed in. But I do think it’s healthy to question culture when it is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/3-4th-of-the-sky/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">domineeringly patriarchal</a>, as it still is in this part of the world.I question that in order to live harmoniously a woman has to give up her rights to be comfortable in her own skin, in how she chooses to look. She gives up her humanity, her security, her sexuality, her sensuality, her intelligence, her curiosity, just to please men and matriarchs, just to fit into a culture that validates only certain aspects of her entire nature.Abuse of women in this culture will remain prevalent until the men and women of power speak up and act out against it, and until the downtrodden powerless learn to voice their dukha beyond the strains of sad folk songs. I am not of your culture, but I’m affected by it. This is my voice.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4364#.XRR-fOszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Patriarchy, female freedom Shrisha Karki</a>, Pramod K Mishra<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/she-for-her,3292">She for her</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Ill-fitting in Nepali society

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813110/636a450d9c7e80680e04d364jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1002"/><figcaption>No Privacy Photo taken by Sushma, 15, from Sindhuli, in a WaterAid UK participatory project She said: “This is the girls’ toilet at our school. It doesn’t lock properly. If someone is inside, someone else has to wait outside, pushing the door. This is why we need more girl-friendly toilets.”</figcaption></figure>By the numbers, Nepal’s progress in water, sanitation and health (WASH) is encouraging. More than <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/survey-is-wakeup-call-for-nepal-government/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">90% of people now have access to toilets and 74% enjoy safe drinking water</a>, a recent survey found.But as usual, facts and figures alone don’t tell the full story. <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/media/1026/file/A%20CONCEPTUAL%20FRAMEWORK%20FOR%20RESOURCE%20MOBILIZATION.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">According to Unicef</a>, just 25% of water supply systems in the country work properly, 36% require minor repairs and 39% need either major repairs, rehabilitation or reconstruction.<a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/media/1026/file/A%20CONCEPTUAL%20FRAMEWORK%20FOR%20RESOURCE%20MOBILIZATION.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Schools are also reporting progress</a> — 82% now have toilets and close to 80% can boast an improved water source — but in only 47% of schools was water supply available during a recent survey.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813110/636a45119c7e80680e04d365jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nationally, two-thirds of schools have separate toilets for girls. That is supported by <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/media/336/file/ANALYSIS%20OF%20MENSTRUAL%20HYGIENE%20PRACTICES%20IN%20NEPAL.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">research done in 12 schools</a> in Achham, Bajura and Parsa in 2016. It found that all schools had toilets, with 10 having separate ones for girls. Yet only 3 toilets in all 12 schools had a water tap that children could reach and just 1 toilet in all the schools was disabled-friendly. Nineteen toilets had a door that locked while 33 lacked a door; no toilets had soap and water nearby for hand-washing.Girl students especially are sensitive to the availability of toilets, and if they have to share facilities with boys, or if there are no locking doors or if no water is available, some girls will choose to stay home instead.Given that enrolment of girls in schools is already lower than boys because of traditional beliefs that educating females is simply not a smart investment, effort is needed to ensure they remain in class. When girls are menstruating equipped private toilets are even more important.The number of examples is growing country-wide of <a href="https://thehimalayantimes.com/nepal/sanitary-pads-bring-down-girl-students-absenteeism/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">schools where the administration and students are overcoming traditional barriers</a> to together manage girl students’ menstruation so that they don’t miss classes. There was good news in the recent budget too, the government promising to supply all community schools with sanitary pads and also allocating Rs43 billion for water supply and sanitation projects.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813110/636a45149c7e80680e04d366jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="366">While implementation will be key, such initiatives should be praised. WASH is not a luxury or an add-on like a science lab or a football pitch; it is a necessity. Having working toilets does not equate to equipping schools with fancy facilities but of taking pains to create healthy environments, and habits, for Nepali children.Advances in water supply will undoubtedly be challenged by growing shortages as the climate crisis deepens. Water quality also remains a priority concern in this country. <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/media/1026/file/A%20CONCEPTUAL%20FRAMEWORK%20FOR%20RESOURCE%20MOBILIZATION.pdf">Surveys have found</a> that 71% of households in Nepal are at risk from E. coli contamination of source water, and 82% from E.coli at the household level. <a href="https://www.wateraid.org/uk/where-we-work/nepal" target="_blank" rel="noopener">700 children die from diarrhoea yearly</a>.If we want our girls to have the same opportunities as boys, and if we want all children to be healthy enough to attend school every day, it’s time that we took building — and maintaining — toilets as seriously as we do building roads.To mark World Environment Day (5 June) a WASH Mela is being held 8-9 June, 8AM-5PM, Basantapur, Kathmandu

Marty Logan

Do not fail students in WASH

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121156/636a44879c7e80680e04d336jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800"/>Nepal has made significant progress in raising primary school enrolment, with more than 95% of boys and girls now attending school from Grades 1 through 5. More than half of adolescent girls in rural areas are now in secondary schools; 15 years ago it was less than 30%.Despite this achievement, poverty, family pressure and gender-unfriendly schools mean that the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19596#.XOUa4yAza70">dropout rate</a> for girl students is still high. As a result, adolescent girls from rural areas get caught in a trans-generational cycle of poverty inherited from their mothers, and are more likely to pass it on to their own children.In response, VSO Nepal, in partnership with Aasaman Nepal, the British Council, Global Action and Mercy Corps, is helping girls in districts like Parsa -- where female literacy is low -- through a program called Sisters for Sisters’ Education. Older girls are recruited to mentor younger ones, increase their enrolment and prevent dropouts.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121156/636a448a9c7e80680e04d337jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800">The older girls are volunteers from the community, who act like Big Sisters to get Little Sisters into school and guide them through adolescence. Big Sisters provide not only academic support but also encouragement and taboo-busting information on sexual and reproductive health to the younger ones.More than one-third (36%) of Nepali women over 15 <a href="https://tradingeconomics.com/nepal/literacy-rate-youth-female-percent-of-females-ages-15-24-wb-data.html">have had no education</a>. This rate increases with age, and more than 91% of women ages 60-64 cannot read or write.Sisters for Sisters not only gets Big Sisters to mentor Little Sisters through school and act as positive role models, it works with younger girls, their families and schools to ensure they remain within the formal education system.Although <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/">child marriage is illegal</a>, girls living in rural areas get pulled out of school to be married as early as 13. As girls enter adolescence, this and other pressures increase, resulting in a rising dropout rate: 6% drop out of primary school while 8% percent drop out of secondary school.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121156/636a448d9c7e80680e04d338jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800">By leaving school, adolescent girls in rural areas fail to acquire a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/not-just-half-the-sky,1178">lifetime capacity for critical thinking and problem solving</a> that can only be learned via secondary education, which goes beyond basic literacy and numeracy skills.As Little Sisters age, VSO supports them to enrol in higher education, which enhances the girls’ confidence and self-esteem, enabling them to take control of their own sexual and reproductive health and rights, and develop life skills.So far, peer learning support funded by the UK’s Department for International Development (DFID) has helped 8,115 girls in Nepal in 50 schools in Dhading, Lamjung, Surkhet and Parsa.Priyanka Budathoki is with VSO Nepal.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121156/636a44909c7e80680e04d339jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800">_______________________________________________________________________“Never look back” Sunti Devi is 34 and her daughter is 12, the age she was when she got married. Aged 16 with two babies in her arms and a small bag, Sunti was forced to leave her husband’s home. She does not want her daughter, or other daughters in Nepal, to go through what she did and now mentors female students in her community. Sunti’s story:<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121156/636a44939c7e80680e04d33ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="217" height="193">“I was in Grade 7 when my parents fixed my marriage with someone in a faraway village. I became a mother at 13, and my in-laws taunted me for giving birth to a daughter. A year later I gave birth to a baby boy and hoped to be accepted back to my husband’s house. I returned only to find that he had married someone else.I completed Grade 10 and began teaching in a primary school, renting a room to raise my children as a single mother. I started working in Sisters for Sisters’ Education and have never looked back. I am living in the same community where my husband lives with his second wife, but that does not affect me anymore. I am determined not to let my students be forced into marriage at an early age. As an Auntie Champion I train the girls in life skills, mentor them and increase their confidence.”_______________________________________________________________________“I am proud of my sisters”Apsana Khatun, 19, from Province 2, is a Big Sister community volunteer who mentors four girls (Little Sisters) in a community school. When her relatives wanted her married Apsana’s mother resisted. Her story:<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121156/636a44949c7e80680e04d33bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="816" height="544">“I am a Muslim. The girls in my community cannot go out on their own, and have to wear veils. My relatives wanted me married off, but my mother allowed me to go to school. Many other girls are not so lucky. After completing Grade 10, I became a Big Sister community volunteer in Sisters for Sisters’ Education in my village.I am responsible for four Little Sisters, whom I mentor with academic guidance and emotional support. At first their parents were not happy with me. But I persisted, and got two of them who had dropped out back in school. Now, the parents treat me like family. I feel so proud when the girls in my school say they want to be teachers, doctors and nurses. My mother never went to school; I want every mother in Nepal to be educated."

Sisterhood of students

<img width="4000" height="3000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110812110/636a37059c7e80680e04833ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/>The Vagina Monologues is being performed in Nepal for the fourth time, and this rendition at the Kausi Theater does not adher to Eve Ensler's classic text. This localised version is based on stories of Nepali women and is therefore much more relatable and impactful to the local audience.The meta performance starts with a group of theatre artists who are actually acting out a rehearsal of a production of Vagina Monologues. Nepali stories have been adapted to fit the original frame of the play -- Nirmala Panta tearfully speaks graphically of the moment she was violated, while a conflict-era sexual abuse victim explains how prolonged her pain has been. These stories are presented in a sensitive, and not sensationalised way, which makes viewers share the trauma themselves.As the women rehearse the pieces, they begin talking about how it relates to their own lives, and story has a desperate intensity because of the scandal rocking Nepal's own drama scene with several male directors stand accused of sexual harassment."If this guy is bugging you so much, why do you still work with him?" one character asks, while the other replies: "Then who do I work with? There isn't anyone else."In another scene, actresses urge one among them to share her story in the mainstream and social media. But then they realise that the survivor is the one who will be blamed, whose life will change dramatically, and who will have very little support to continue her acting career. The scenes in the play bring alive a world of women: how they talk to each other, how they open up gradually after one person starts a thread, how they console each other, and finally, how they often end up being silent because there are no options. But the play also depicts how things are changing by renacting the sexual harassment cases that are rocking Nepal's theatre world in real time. Actresses have accused three noted theatre directors of sexual harassment in a popular weekly tabloid, leading to much discussion and division in the world of Nepali drama. Their confessions led the theatre community temporarily banning some actors -- a significant achievement here. The stage thus becomes the vehicle through which the accusations are documented and spread to more people.  <img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110812110/636a37089c7e80680e04833fjpeg.jpg" alt="">The play engages with the current discourse about rape and sexual abuse being a manifestation of power imbalance. The fallback argument is often 'not all men', but the play gives a fitting comeback to that as well: "If I am being followed by a potentially dangerous person and I am scared, it won't help me to say not all men are like that."Directed by Akanchha Karki, the play does not create any strong characters because the cases represent the experiences of all kinds of women. Nevertheless, together the stories create an emotionally intense experience that makes viewers question and reevaluate their values. Several talented actors and actresses bring these stories to life, among whom Loonibha Tuladhar deserves special mention for her perfect timing, both in serious and comic scenes with their dark humour. The play tackles conversations among men about sexuality, abuse, and consent. It presents the viewpoint of a lot of people who think that gender inequality and abuse don't exist, because today women can go out to work, wear the clothes they want, own property, vote, and even chhaupadi has been abolished by the government."The play is based on true events, but you may not believe any of it," says one character sardonically at the end of the play. "After all, it was made by a woman." <img width="4000" height="3000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110812110/636a370c9c7e80680e048340jpeg.jpg" alt="">Vagina Monologues 4.0:  Private is PoliticalKausi Theater, TekuUntil 11 May

Private is political

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ezfdhBKEtsEGrowing up in Chitwan, Radha Paudel’s father used to tell her stories of faraway Jumla: how it took weeks to walk there, the cold snowy winters, the Tila River on the banks of which were the world’s highest paddy fields. She was fascinated.Paudel became a nurse and, as luck would have it, was posted to Jumla with a safe motherhood program. The maternal mortality rate in the Karnali at the time was at sub-Saharan levels. The strict patriarchy made it an epicentre for neglected reproductive health problems among women.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21465&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Upreti<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21434&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">That time of the month</a>, EditorialNepal’s armed conflict with the Maoists was at its peak, and Jumla suffered several rebel raids. Paudel witnessed the fierce one in Jumla in 2002 in which hundreds, including the CDO, DSP and civilians were killed. She survived by hiding under a bed all night as gunfire and bombs were going off outside.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a269e9c7e80680e043a26jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>CODE RED: Nurse turned writer turned activist Radha Paudel discusses dignified mentruation at her work place in Kathmandu this week. Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>“It was terrifying, I fainted. Then I asked myself what drove them to take up the gun. I found the answer: the class, caste and gender discrimination in the region,” Paudel recalls.She wrote a book, Khalangama Hamala (The Attack on Khalanga) that described not just the night of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4589#.XGFoddIza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">battle</a> but the harsh condition of life for the people of Jumla. The book was awarded the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Nurse-book-wins-Madan-Prize,1670" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Madan Puraskar</a> in 2013 and brought the plight of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3046#.XGFpl9Iza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karnali</a> to national attention.After a career as nurse and writer, Paudel is now a full-time activist trying to address practices like menstruation restriction on women, which symbolise entrenched gender inequality not just in Jumla, but all over Nepal.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a19c7e80680e043a27jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1422" height="888"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Paudel is back with a second book Pavitra Ragat (Pure Blood), and like her first one this book also deals with blood-letting — only this time it is about the discrimination and taboos women have to face during their periods.The story began in Paudel’s own childhood, and she writes about how her mother and sisters were made to stay away from the kitchen and temples during menstruation. She had seen girls who menstruated for the first time isolated for three weeks, so when it was her turn Radha ran away from home to her sister’s place.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a49c7e80680e043a28jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The book is searing in its honesty, and the practical difficulties Nepali women face during <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/That-time-of-the-month,3098" target="_blank" rel="noopener">adolescence</a>: not finding enough rags to soak up the blood, always worrying if the blood is leaking through clothes, and asking classmates in school if her skirt is stained, not drinking water so that she didn’t have to go to toilet and risk losing her rag…As a nurse, Paudel conducted research on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/bloody-period/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">menstrual practices</a> and found that many rural women in Nepal did not even know about panties and pads, they bled freely all day, and in many households women took turns to use the same rags. The book is graphic, and not for the faint-hearted reader as it describes the monthly reality for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/why-is-female-sexuality-still-a-taboo-in-Nepal,2908" target="_blank" rel="noopener">many Nepali women</a>.When Paudel got her first job, she proudly bought herself proper panties and new, clean cloth to use during menstruation. But, she realised the situation had not changed for many of her fellow-women in Jumla.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha PoudelToday, Poudel is not just spreading awareness but manufacturing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">biodegradable sanitary pads</a> at a factory in Chitwan, and training young women about how to use these washable pads that do not leak.Paudel explains why it is important de-glamourise modern sanitary napkins: they are made of synthetic materials and take up to 1,000 years to degrade. Much of the plastic waste dumped by the trails in Nepal are made of discarded sanitary pads.Besides making an environmental statement, Paudel also wants to promote dignified menstruation and remove the taboo surrounding menstrual ostracisation, the practice of chhaupadi in which women in western Nepal are banished to the cow shed once a month.“Menstrual isolation is a human right violation, it isolates women by barring them from kitchens, water sources, temples, schools, and homes,” says Paudel. “This means women are treated like second class citizens, or not even human.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26a89c7e80680e043a29jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="753">Paudel is determined to also change the image of Karnali as being a backward, illiterate and primitive region. For instance, Nepal’s 2018 Criminal Code prohibits the practice of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/period-of-banishment,3529" target="_blank" rel="noopener">banishing</a> women to chhaupadi huts during menstruation or childbirth, but does not address more general menstrual restrictions practiced all over Nepal. Limiting the crime of isolating women to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/blood-sisters-menstruation,839" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chhaupadi</a> unfairly points the finger at only western Nepal.Women dying of suffocation or snake bites in menstrual sheds make headlines, but not the everyday humiliation women everywhere are subjected to. Paudel says the ceremonial demolition of chhaupadi huts is misdirected. “Even if you replace the huts with a 5-star hotel, that is still discrimination,” she says.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Menstrual shaming</a> exists all over the world, not just in Nepal. Just this month, Unicode approved a droplet of blood as an emoji to symbolise menstruation. Plan International lobbied for the emoji because its poll found that nearly half the girls and women in the UK between 14-21 were embarrassed about their periods.Across the world, women use code words when they refer to their periods, and Nepal is no different. Paudel lists some of them: chhui, chhau, nachhune, para sarne, all describing the isolation and stigma women face.Radha Paudel now wants to go beyond physical aspects of menstrual ostracisation to psycho-social and religious beliefs that make many women themselves firm believers in the taboos. Part of the reason she wrote the book is to demystify menstruation so that students, families, men and women can <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Girl-talk-period,2377">talk about it openly</a>.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pad Power</a>, Ziyu Lin<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/stereotyping-women-as-victims/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stereotyping women as victims</a>, Radha Adhikari and Jeevan Sharma

Communicating to remove menstrual taboo

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26849c7e80680e043a1djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="902"/><figcaption>DEFYING TRADITION: This cow shed in Kailali used for menstural banishment. It has now been turned into a store room for rice husk.</figcaption></figure>Media reports of the practice of chhaupadi are full of harrowing tales of suffering, and women dying of cold or suffocation during their monthly exile to the cowshed.A recent trip across eight districts in Nepal’s Far West revealed a critical mass of women who are defying the practice and overcoming the superstitions that perpetuate it. Each of the women have a different reason for shunning the shed, but together they are breaking an entrenched taboo that has come to epitomise gender discrimination in Nepal.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Communicating to remote menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21434&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">That time of the month</a>, EditorialIn Achham, a 23-year old girl bravely decided to stay at home, even though her mother goes to the shed. On occasions when they menstruate together, the daughter cooks food inside and takes it out for her mother. She says indignantly, “The municipality says there must be a toilet at home, but no one ever discusses that women must not be forced to live in cowsheds.”Nirmala BK, 30, is also from Achham and is an example of how a mother’s courage can help eliminate practices like chhaupadi. Since she was not allowed to cook during her periods, Nirmala’s children would walk through town carrying flour, and beg people to cook roti for them. After seeing how miserable they were, the mother resolved to stay home and cook during menstruation.Some women have supportive husbands who empowered them to break the taboo. In Bajhang one woman said her husband pressured her mother-in-law to be allowed to stay indoor during her periods. “My mother-in-law still tries to find out whether I am menstruating or not, but I just tell her a white lie that I took a medicine to stop the bleeding,” she added.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26889c7e80680e043a1ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1057"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a268a9c7e80680e043a1fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1044">Ramaroshni Giri stays at home during menstruation for safety reasons, but has gone one step further to break the taboo about milking livestock during her periods. “If I don’t do it, the cows will not give milk, and besides, none of the cows have died,” Giri says.A teenage girl in Achham kept her monthly cycle a secret because her mother threatened to kick her out of the house if she stayed indoors.One day, coming home from school the girl was shocked to see that her younger siblings had gone hungry all day because their mother was in the shed. She flew into a rage against her mother: “Does our religion say the children have to go hungry?” After that outburst, the mother now stays home and cooks even during her periods.There is superstition that the shaman will shiver if a menstruating woman touches him. So, 35-year-old Gangadevi Bista from Doti decided to test that. Feigning an illness, Bista showed her hand to a dhami during her periods, but not a shiver from him. She made sure the whole village found out about it.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a268d9c7e80680e043a20jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1149"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26909c7e80680e043a21jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="778"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A restaurant owner in Achham has abandoned chhaupadi , saying her business would collapse if she banished herself to a shed every month. “The elders, dhami and jhankri have all eaten the food I cooked even during my periods, none of them fell sick,” she says.A Dalit woman almost lost her baby son while she was in the shed in winter. She fell asleep with her eight-month-old in the shed and they were both nearly killed by a fire. She has not gone back to the shed after that.Many equate chhaupadi with poverty, but it is a product of a deep-seated patriarchy. In spite of positive changes, the practice continues and the pain of many women proves that raising awareness alone is not enough. Chhaupadi has already been criminalised by law, and needs to be strictly enforced.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nation-holding-up-half-the-district,489" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Holding up half the district</a>, Kunda Dixit<h2>Vending machine for pads</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26939c7e80680e043a22jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="831"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Students at the Gyanodaya High School in Kathmandu do not have to worry about getting their periods while in class, forgetting to bring sanitary pads, or even skipping school for a few days every month. The school has installed a vending machine for its 1,300 female students and 75 female staff which will provide a napkin after dropping a Rs 1 coin, but the users have to pay Rs 5 to the school for the added cost.The students in Grade 6 or 7 who get their periods for the first time, often while in school, are the ones who are going to benefit the most from the vending machine, the first sanitary pad vending machine in Nepal, and Gyanodaya has established itself as a menstruation-friendly school.The school, whose students achieve one of the highest pass rates in SEE exams in the country, expects the girl students to do much better in class now that they don't have to worry about their periods so much."We used to face hassles when we would forget to bring pads, and it was troublesome to borrow from classmates, we used to have to leave school and go home," now we don't have to worry about it anymore," says Ganga Sapkota, a student.Principal Natikaji Maharjan, who also teaches science at the schoool, says the curriculum places a priority on studying reproductive health so as to remove the taboos and superstition surrounding menstruation.He says this is a pilot project, and the school hopes to set aside a budget for free distribution of the pads from next year. “It will help in spreading awareness about mestruation as being a natural biological process,” he says.From the Nepali PressShanti Tamang in Setopati.com, 14 Feburary<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://setopati.com/social/175077?fbclid=IwAR0wvMka4BR4PCNJVDc8vJn3GdI3e_4hKTzJW-Eqa_TsJYx6LH3LVjYNn1E" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Full story</a> in Nepali here.

Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26669c7e80680e043a12jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1099"/><figcaption>Illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>The practice of chhaupadi in which women in western Nepal are banished to cow sheds during their periods grabs a lot of media attention within Nepal and internationally, eclipsing the much more widespread and entrenched menstrual restrictions in the rest of Nepal.As cruel and inhumane as chhaupadi is, journalistic coverage as usual tends to be event-focused, headlining only deaths due to suffocation, snakebites or exposure. There is little context to explain that the practice is now much less widespread as literacy improves, and after it was outlawed.As public health specialist Aruna Uprety <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-superwomen-beat-superstition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">reports from Accham in this issue</a>, young women and mothers across western Nepal are now defying this superstition. But that is not ‘newsy’ enough for the international media.To be sure, it is a travesty that young women are still dying because they are forced to fend for themselves in the flimsy huts, where some fall prey to the cold, infections, wild animals, or rapists. Chhaupadi is cruel and an egregious violation of the human rights of women, perpetuated by conservative societal norms.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21465&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s superwomen beat superstition</a>, Aruna Upreti<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21456&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Communicating to remove menstrual taboo</a>, Sewa BhattaraiBut while women in western Nepal are cast out to spend four days every month in sheds, in other parts of Nepal they are confined to isolation in separate rooms. They are not allowed to cook or eat in the kitchen, cannot touch taps, and are supposed to keep off places of worship. These are not poor and illiterate women in rural Nepal, but college graduates, upper and middle class urban women in Kathmandu, and even the Nepali diaspora.Many women believe the superstition about menstrual ostracisation and willingly follow the practice, thinking crops will wither, livestock will die, cows will not give milk, or that their fathers and brothers will die if they ‘pollute’ them during their periods. Festivals like Rishi Panchami reinforce these beliefs, where women apologise for all the ‘sins’ they many have committed, even unintentionally, during menstruation.Women are also excluded from festivals and auspicious occasions, forced to find distant water sources for washing, and left out of schools and work. More damaging is the emotional toll: women feel humiliated and dehumanised as they grow up feeling powerless from a young age.Writer and menstruation activist <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/communicating-to-remove-menstrual-taboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Radha Paudel in her new book</a> released this week, Apavitra Ragat (Impure Blood), argues that all menstrual restrictions are human rights violations, not just chhaupadi. She says the demolition of chhaupadi huts and the distribution of sanitary pads, while being important interventions, do not address the continuing isolation of women during their periods, and their feelings of inferiority that it perpetuates.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/removing-menstrual-shame,4148" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing menstrual shame</a>, Clara Hare-Grogg<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/women-speaking-out-against-chaupadi,3518" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Periods of banishment</a>, Subeksha PoudelPaudel suggests that the focus should be shifted to a more holistic advocacy where all members of society accept that menstruation is not impure. For that, communication and education are key, and the campaigns must include men, as well as school teachers, health workers, faith healers and community leaders.Positive stories also need more coverage because not everything about menstruation is regressive in Nepal. Over the years, increasing numbers of women have started questioning this tradition, and have proactively and collectively broken the taboo. Education has brought about dramatic change, spreading knowledge among students and their parents about the biological reasons for menstrual blood.The accounts of women who suffer in cow sheds are tragic, but much more compelling are the brave stories of those that have countered the practice in Nepal’s most conservative communities. They prove that reform is possible, and can be brought about by the combined strength of many ordinary women fighting for justice and rights for themselves and their children. They show that courageous progressive women exist in the same places where the taboo is strongest, and where those extreme cases of deaths and despair are reported.Ultimately, dignified menstruation for women all over Nepal should focus not just on hygiene and safety through sanitary pads and alternatives to chhaupadi huts, but on making sure that women are not shamed by menstruation and are free to participate in any activity, whether or not it is ‘that time of month’.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pad-power-nepal,4147" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pad Power</a>, Ziyu Lin<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/stereotyping-women-as-victims/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stereotyping women as victims</a>, Radha Adhikari and Jeevan Sharma<h2>10 years ago this week</h2>Ten years ago this week, the<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15656#.XGZRbFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Ass’ Backside Column</a> in edition <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/438" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#4</a>38 of Nepali Times of 13-19 February 2008 was titled “Go back to sleep’. It was a spoof on the elected Maoist government honouring the PLA anniversary. Excerpt:Go back to sleep, we’ll wake you up when things start getting really exciting around here. As things stand now, nothing is really happening. Politicians are all up to their ears in party affairs, and no one has any time for the country. The southern plains and the eastern hills have been locked down now for weeks, but PM PKD has all the time in the world to helicopter over to Panchthar to attend his army’s anniversary. Defence Minister Cloudy was off in western Nepal attending a Tharu council. This whole week, the Baddie brass has been busy getting organised for the three-day gala war anniversary in Nawalparasi. All the UML members of the cabinet, including the Hydro Minister, will be out of action for another week because of the party convention in Butwal. And next week Nepal’s Other Army will be celebrating its own Army Day on Shivaratri.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/438"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26699c7e80680e043a13jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="511" height="814"></a>

That time of the month

Nepal’s only international aviation gateway, at Kathmandu airport, will cut night-time operation hours to allow construction of taxiways, and airlines have been told to curtail flights. This is expected to lead to more than normal chaos during the height of peak autumn and spring tourist seasons at an airport that is congested even at the best of times. The airport will close from 10PM to 8AM from 8 November-31 March 2025. The taxiways will now connect to the thresholds at both ends of the runway, making the airport more efficient in handling higher frequencies of landings and takeoffs. The parallel taxiway extension will allow international flights to land every 4 minutes instead of the current every 7 minutes. At present planes have to wait to land until a plane taking off backtracks along the runway.&nbsp; Kathmandu is Nepal’s only airport with international operations, and it has only one runway that is only one way in from the south over the mountains. With the taxiway improvement, the airport will be able to handle 42 aircraft landings and takeoffs per hour — double the current capacity.&nbsp; The Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) has been trying to entice international airlines to also start flying to and from the other two international airports at Pokhara and Bhairawa (Lumbini) by slashing landing and handling charges. But so far only Nepal Airlines operates a weekly flight to Bhairawa from Kuala Lumpur.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241018161016_046569e53d1d66cd445cc66c697c0ef724810aec9f54bdf827481e3cd6b80c32.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241018161016_046569e53d1d66cd445cc66c697c0ef724810aec9f54bdf827481e3cd6b80c32" data-rendition-name="original" width="2356" height="1134" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu airport expansion"> <figcaption>Kathmandu Airport Expansion plan with extension of taxiways to the thresholds of runways 02 and 20 that will limit airport operations from 8 November 2024 - 31 March 2025. Areas in blue are existing structures, including the international terminal which in future will be the domestic airport, and the new international terminal near the north end of the runway,</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241018121028_6e17cc2ee87c1b02d78cb54905825b7aa15299b7a00f5eddb01a59579ab85c1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241018121028_6e17cc2ee87c1b02d78cb54905825b7aa15299b7a00f5eddb01a59579ab85c1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1353" height="1328" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu airport NT"> </figure>  CAAN has reportedly told international airlines to cut their flight frequency to Kathmandu citing the shorter operation hours and has told budget airlines to shift some of their flights to Pokhara or Bhairawa, or face cuts. Many airlines currently operate regular flights to and from Kathmandu between 10PM and 8AM: Air Arabia to Sharjah, Fly Dubai to Dubai, Jazeera Airways to Kuwait, Cathay Pacific to Hong Kong, Singapore Airlines, several Nepal Airlines flights, and one of four daily flights by Qatar Airways to Doha. Jazeera Airways, FlyDubai, and Thai AirAsia have applied and got permission from CAAN to begin regular flights to Bhairawa’s Gautam Buddha International Airport. Starting 9 November, FlyDubai will start making a stopover in Bhairawa before flying on to Kathmandu. Immigration, customs and security are all fully functional in Bhairawa. In Kathmandu, the next phase of the airport upgrade includes converting the current international terminal for domestic operations, the construction of a new international terminal where the domestic departure area is now, as well as moving the hangars and the Nepal Army Air Wing to the eastern side of the runway. The apron area will also double its parking space for widebody jets. This is part of a Airport Capacity Enhancement Project that was initially funded through a $80 million loan from the Asian Development Bank (ADB), and the entire masterplan is expected to cost $800 million. This project is the latest upgrade to Nepal’s only international airport since it saw its first flight in 1949. The current international and domestic terminals are too small to handle the current annual traffic volume of 8.5 million passengers a year that is growing at 20% a year.

Kathmandu airport to cut flight hours

As Kathmandu becomes more congested and polluted, and with remote online work becoming the norm, many professional Nepalis are planning to retire in Pokhara, or move there.&nbsp; With its stunning mountain panorama, balmy winters and proximity to a profusion of wilderness areas, builders are responding to this demand with new townhouses, housing development and apartments. One such block of flats is the 10-storey <a href="https://sungavaapartment.com/">Sungava Apartment</a> located at Phulbari above the Seti River, near the point where it flows into and under Pokhara. The imposing structure near Manipal Hospital is almost complete, and on a recent visit the site was strewn with huge boulders unearthed while digging the foundation.&nbsp; The Seti brought down these boulders during a gigantic flood that geologists estimate happened 800 years ago when a chunk of Annapurna IV broke off and ploughed into the glacier below. Today, Sungava (means ‘orchid’) sits safely on a high terrace, 100m above the blue-green Seti and commands a view of Dhaulagiri, Annapurna South, Machapuchre, Annapurna III and IV.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024102411104_5f8fc736c86ea3c08d7bef43bb727081d3cc1a2caa55ae2b441717e6044de7e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024102411104_5f8fc736c86ea3c08d7bef43bb727081d3cc1a2caa55ae2b441717e6044de7e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="High living below the Himalaya NT"> </figure>  The soil here is conglomerate that has solidified like concrete, and the boulders were extracted by heavy earthmovers. It is intriguing to think that these metamorphic rocks as big as cars, rounded by glacial grinding, were once a part of a much higher Annapurna IV. Even for those with little interest in geology, Sungava is an ideal place to contemplate the tectonic forces that pushed these peaks into the sky to be sculpted into delicate shapes by wind, snow, earthquake and avalanche over millions of years. The view of the Himalayan panorama from Sungava’s many balconies are breathtaking when not obscured by clouds, or the haze that drifts in from across the southern border. On most days, just watching the towering pyramid of Machapuchre (Tamu name: कतासुँ क्लिको) play hide and seek with the clouds is mesmerising. There are rocks aplenty at Phulbari, and it is probably the flowers that grew along the flat terraces e that gave the place its flowery name. The boulders will hopefully be turned into a rock garden while landscaping. An nearby restaurant complex is making the best use of the stones in its design, using flat rocks as outdoor benches and tables. Sungava was designed by the husband-wife architect team of Deepak Sherchan and Jyoti Joshi of <a href="https://thedarkmermaidamarbshrestha.blogspot.com/2013/12/creative-builders-collaborative-cbc.html">Creative Builders Collaborative (CBC)</a>, which also built Heritage Plaza, Indreni Apartment and numerous other projects in Nepal. Sadbhavana retains CBC’s trademark Newari-style masonry and here it borrows from the orange brickwork of the old town of Pokhara, integrating it with modern design elements. A few of those heritage houses are still standing in Ganesh Tole and Ram Krishna Tole in Pokhara’s old quarter.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024102411108_5eb64a4885961b6d30781cefeb1e8a313da313ac5227c7a66b60f0c7d48d6fab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024102411108_5eb64a4885961b6d30781cefeb1e8a313da313ac5227c7a66b60f0c7d48d6fab" data-rendition-name="original" width="1362" height="595" loading="lazy" alt="High living below the Himalaya NT"> </figure>  About 400m from the apartment past a bend on the river, and down below three tiers of terraces in the canyon is a suspension bridge. Below it, the Seti is still swollen with post-monsoon flow as it tumbles away in a hurry to head down south.&nbsp; Back at the apartment, it is quiet, far away from the hubbub of Lakeside a 15 minute drive away, and in the lap of greenery. There are 52 units at Sungava and it already has a close-knit prospective community of professionals, including doctors, publishers, engineers, and businesspeople from the renewable energy and IT sectors.&nbsp; Some residents say they opted for a second home in Pokhara to make it a ‘base camp’ to explore the Annapurnas with its many hiking trails made newly accessible with new roads. With the NRN citizenship law, overseas Nepalis can now also buy the flats. &nbsp; The floor plans include options for north and south-facing 3-bedroom apartments with verandas, and the facility has underground parking has EV charging, heated pool, sauna and gym. There are still some unsold apartments with panoramic views of the mountains and one can imagine oneself at the kitchen with its huge window, humming a ditty while preparing breakfast: “खाना पकाउँ हिमाल हेरेर...”

High living below the Himalaya

When the United Nations held its Summit of the Future at its headquarters in New York in September, many world leaders, including Nepal’s Prime Minister K P Oli, highlighted the effect of climate breakdown in increasing the frequency and intensity of natural disasters. What did not get as much attention was the long term impact of the climate crisis on food production. In fact, heat stress, weather extremes and the consequences on rain-fed agriculture is already being felt worldwide, undermining the chances of the <a href="https://unstats.un.org/sdgs/">UN’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs)</a> being met by 2030.&nbsp; The SDG’s 17 targets commit countries like Nepal to reduce poverty and inequality, end malnutrition, protect the natural environment, and ensure that citizens all enjoy health, justice and prosperity without leaving anyone behind.&nbsp; However, besides the impact of climate breakdown on agricultural production, in Nepal the area under cultivation is impacted by urban expansion, falling productivity and the need for expensive inputs like fertiliser and pesticides.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_626413c5baf4dae407ac9579231b41daeb51510aa636b75aeb7489d94cca6a62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241019041052_626413c5baf4dae407ac9579231b41daeb51510aa636b75aeb7489d94cca6a62" data-rendition-name="original" width="999" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Kathmandu's urban sprawl is eating into its fertile cultivable lands. Photo: TAYLOR MASON</figcaption> </figure>  Now, a new study led by Nepali researcher Prajal Pradhan at the University of Groningen in The Netherlands looks at how urban agriculture may offer a solution to falling food production and meeting SDG targets. The researchers evaluated 1,450 publications exploring the contributions of urban agriculture with both positive and negative effects, and published their findings in the journal Cells Report Sustainability. Urban agriculture can help achieve 17 SDGs, positively influencing 81 targets. However, it could also undermine 51 goals.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-vanishing-land">The vanishing land</a>, Taylor Mason “Urban agriculture offers immense potential for sustainable development, but realising this potential depends crucially on adopting practices that minimise its adverse effects while maximising its benefits,” Pradhan explains. Urban agriculture can substantially enhance urban food security, provide employment to the urban poor, serve as ground water recharge in built-up areas, and preserve open spaces that can serve as safe havens during disasters like earthquakes. However, it also presents problems like the potential health risks from contamination and the need for expensive inputs. &nbsp; “Urban agriculture plays a definitive role in advancing the SDGs, but achieving this requires tailored, context-specific solutions that address the unique challenges of different regions,” says Yuanchao Hu of Wuhan University in China and who is a researcher at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research. “But it needs equitable access and rigorous management of environmental risks.”&nbsp; Rapid urbanisation is eating into Nepal’s most fertile agricultural land, which means farming in remaining open spaces inside cities can be a viable alternative, especially as food prices rise.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_7b7c9413086226fbdc630d45acf772cfa1ced77a8970b9056ec5ec7e5226fdf8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241019041052_7b7c9413086226fbdc630d45acf772cfa1ced77a8970b9056ec5ec7e5226fdf8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>A vegetable patch in between new houses in Thimi. Photo: TAYLOR MASON</figcaption> </figure>  “The conversion of Nepal’s most fertile land into cities is a severe problem,” Pradhan told Nepali Times. “Crop cultivation, horticulture, agroforestry, beekeeping, livestock rearing, or aquaculture can all be farming activities within and around cities.”&nbsp; The study makes recommendations for sustainable practices that build on the positive aspects of urban agriculture while mitigating the downsides, thereby promoting more resilient cities in future. Research shows that urban agriculture has been helping many countries attain SDG targets by enhancing food security and biodiversity while helping education and preservation of open spaces.&nbsp; Indeed, many farmers from the hinterland who have settled in Kathmandu Valley or other urban areas of the country have been practicing urban agriculture, leasing neighbourhood patches or cultivating roof gardens both out of necessity because of inflation and falling income to grow their own food, and also as a fulfilling hobby. Saurav Dhakal, a sustainability advocate with Story Cycle and now research fellow at the Asian Institute of Technology in Thailand, says there are socio-economic and environmental benefits of urban agriculture. “It provides benefits to all urban dwellers, regardless of their income status,” says Dhakal, “families get fresh food, and there are many other benefits like water retention, heat regulation and biodiversity. These are all public goods, so special government incentives may be needed.” It is not unusual to see vegetable patches and even paddy fields within inner city Kathmandu where an older generation of farmers are using available fertile land and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/rooftop-gardens-kathmandu,1415">roof gardens to produce fresh, nutritious food </a>to reduce their dependence on food items that have to be bought after being trucked in from large distances.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024101905100_1291ce98dbbb8caed8702ac4b1d469b3e13016d7ecaaf3bfd5f91c974d3c0c77.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024101905100_1291ce98dbbb8caed8702ac4b1d469b3e13016d7ecaaf3bfd5f91c974d3c0c77" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>An older generation of farmers are using any available fertile land to continue farming but it is getting more and more difficult. Photo: TAYLOR MASON </figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s urban population grew rapidly from only 3.6% in 1991 to 25% today. There is large outmigration from the mountains to peri-urban areas of the Tarai, to Kathmandu Valley and Pokhara, with many young men then moving abroad for work. Kathmandu Valley’s population has swelled to nearly 3 million, and is growing at 6.5% a year. Dilip Shrestha, 71, used to work for Nepal Food Corporation, so he knew firsthand about inflation, shortages and vegetables with pesticide residue. So, when he designed his new house in Kathmandu, he built a spacious roof where he grows cucumber, ginger, garlic, coriander, onions, tomatoes, chili, beans, okra, pumpkin and lettuce. His family eats healthier, and he has reduced dependence on the market.&nbsp; The co-author of the Cell Reports Sustainability journal article, Daya Raj Subedi who is a PhD candidate at Beijing Forestry University, says urban agriculture also promotes inclusion and psycho-social wellbeing.&nbsp; He says, “A crucial finding of the study is the identification of opportunities and challenges associated with urban agriculture, it can promote sustainable transformation of society.” In Banepa, 55-year-old Bijaya Manandhar in her lifetime has watched the fertile farms of her neighbourhood that used to supply vegetables to Kathmandu, now completely built up with no open space left. The pandemic lockdown prompted her to turn to the family’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/rooftop-agriculture-on-the-roof-of-the-world">ancestral livelihood by growing food</a> not on terrace farms, but on the roof terrace. Manandhar is now a part of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/rooftop-agriculture-on-the-roof-of-the-world%5C%5C">कौसी खेती र करेसाबारी क्रान्ती</a> (Rooftop Farming and Garden Revolution) which has an online membership of 52,000, and awards annual prizes to women who excel in urban agriculture.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_7257f5def8f823f35a799fa6f6825e153f2ffa406ac11325d4fe74049b79e96d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241019041052_7257f5def8f823f35a799fa6f6825e153f2ffa406ac11325d4fe74049b79e96d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="736" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Rooftop farming is gaining popularity as a form of urban agriculture. </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_beff1a4494ce896dd8fd383ee1f518e5448bcf7ea8bb138255391c7bcb9769ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241019041052_beff1a4494ce896dd8fd383ee1f518e5448bcf7ea8bb138255391c7bcb9769ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="3000" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> </figure>  Pradhan says the challenge now is to upscale such examples of successful urban agricultural practices so they support Neal’s efforts to meet SDG targets. He adds, “Crop cultivation around cities can be protected by land use plans and regulations. Promoting community-based agriculture, including rooftop gardens, requires community engagement and public-private partnerships across the food value chain.”&nbsp; Such support would accelerate the popularity of existing rooftop farming and community gardens in Kathmandu Valley, or kitchen garden initiatives in Pokhara, and building on traditional farming practices that are preserved and integrated into urban settings like in Bhaktapur and Banepa. In Lalitpur, the Women Entrepreneurship Facilitation Center promotes urban farming enhancing both sustainability and empowerment.&nbsp; Another co-author of the report, Yuanchao Hu from China says followup research of the team will aim to identify good practices in local urban agriculture practices. He adds, “There are examples of urban agriculture that optimise sustainability, ensuring that it remains a viable solution for cities globally while countries try to meet SDG targets.” Prajal Pradhan, Daya Raj Subedi, Kshitij Dahal, Yuanchao Hu, Prakriti Gurung, Sijal Pokharel, Sagar Kafle, Biplav Khatri, Sudeeksha Basyal, Monika Gurung, and Aruna Joshi. Urban Agriculture matters for sustainable development. Cell Reports Sustainability, 1:100217, 2024. [DOI: 10.1016/j.crsus.2024.100217] Prajal Pradhan (<a href="mailto:p.pradhan@rug.nl">p.pradhan@rug.nl</a>) This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG logo"> </figure>

Back to the land in the cities

The 700-year-old Lakshmi Narasingha temple in Bhaktapur houses a rare half-lion and half-human incarnation of Lord Vishnu carrying the Goddess Lakshmi. The temple was destroyed in the 1934 mega earthquake that killed 10,000 people and destroyed many monuments in Kathmandu Valley. It was rebuilt by a German project in the 1980s, but as a single-storey structure instead of its original two-tier pagoda design.&nbsp; With new findings from in-depth research, Bhaktapur municipality began re-restoring the temple in 2021, preserving its original architecture.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241017131016_2fae38cce543ad7b1f6de632feb3e212e08ed1acedd747830e949d7b8e878f18.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241017131016_2fae38cce543ad7b1f6de632feb3e212e08ed1acedd747830e949d7b8e878f18" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="In with the old in Nepal NT"> </figure>  “Our temples and heritage sites hold deep meaning. It is disheartening to witness how often they lose their original elements, whether by design or accident,” explains Kumar Chawal of the Consumer Committee of Bhaktapur. “There is a need to preserve our architecture and protect its historical value for future generations. Otherwise, we risk losing a vital part of our identity.” The Laksmi Narsingha restoration is similar to the Bhai Dega temple in Patan Darbar Square which also collapsed in 1934, but was rebuilt with a Moghul-style dome by the Rana government at the time. Only two months before the 2015 earthquake, heritage conservationists had started to rebuild Bhai Dega as the original three-tier based on early photographs. But priorities shifted when four other temples in the square were brought down by the 7.8M earthquake on 25 April 2015.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241017131016_697ea707d9ad163be5de5f2efbf5b70d3cab771adcc22f0fae6bf937c6cb0130.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241017131016_697ea707d9ad163be5de5f2efbf5b70d3cab771adcc22f0fae6bf937c6cb0130" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="In with the old in Nepal NT"> </figure>  This showed how damage to monuments in Kathmandu Valley spanned from one earthquake to the next. Bhai Dega restoration remains half-complete to this day because money for its restoration ran out.&nbsp; Whereas Bhai Dega restoration was done by the Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust with grants from western embassies and international foundations, in Bhaktapur it is the municipality itself that allocated the Rs30.7 million needed to restore the Lakshmi Narasingha temple. The expected date of completion is early 2025. The municipality and local communities are focusing on two main aspects: preserving the past and promoting localisation. The restoration team has designed a blueprint for the temple by using historical photographs and insights from older generations.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241017131016_182882fdc393c99e70d1d0490319e415229563666c4934e3a582426ebf00ca30.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241017131016_182882fdc393c99e70d1d0490319e415229563666c4934e3a582426ebf00ca30" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="560" loading="lazy" alt="In with the old in Nepal NT"> </figure>  “At first, the Lakshmi Narasingha temple had only one entrance, but during the demolition process, we uncovered the foundations of four doors. Now, we are restoring all of them. This is an example of how our ancient structures have changed over time, often without our knowledge,” says Chawal. “Constructing temples is not like building houses. They carry historical and spiritual values, which is why they hold a special place in our hearts,” he adds. By replicating ancient design elements and rebuilding the temple as accurately as possible to its original form, the team has stayed true to Bhaktapur’s soul. But the restoration also revived ancient techniques that were in danger of being forgotten, generating employment for woodcarvers, masons, and contractors. The community of Bhaktapur’s Gahiti neighbourhood near the famous Nyatapola Temple has also set aside specific days for locals to volunteer in the reconstruction work. This has encouraged young people to take pride in ownership of their heritage. Families have also supported the effort by donating funds for bells, the temple pinnacle, and other structural features to the temple.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241017131016_db850ec0c084cdbe54f65bee92dad2ad8122d20fd60ec87ec086fbb9d2f72bd6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241017131016_db850ec0c084cdbe54f65bee92dad2ad8122d20fd60ec87ec086fbb9d2f72bd6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="In with the old in Nepal NT"> </figure>  “I feel at peace knowing I have contributed my sweat to restoring this temple,” said one volunteer. “It is our duty to preserve our temples and heritage. The Nyatapola area will look magical once this temple is completed.” Community mobilisation is a long-standing tradition in Bhaktapur. In the past, locals have actively participated in the restoration of other temples in the city, such as Bhairav and Nyatapola fostering a strong sense of ownership. This collective engagement has not only been crucial in preserving the city's historical monuments but also in strengthening the bond between local communities and their heritage, says officials at the municipality. While securing funding is essential, and the municipality showed it values heritage conservation, the Lakshmi Narasingha restoration is proof that active involvement and sense of responsibility of the local community is as important, if not more. Local involvement also means that the monuments will be cared for into the future, When locals take ownership of these efforts, the restored monuments are not only protected in the present but are also cared for in the future.