<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111120/637216ab9c7e80680e0ba9a5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Another year, yet another <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/mayday-mayday-mayday/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">May Day</a>. As Nepal emerges from the ravages of the pandemic and the economic crisis created by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the role of remittances in supporting families and indeed the country’s economy is more vital than ever. On this year’s May 1 Labour Day, Nepalis are also preparing to vote in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/coalition-collision/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local elections</a>. But not the country’s estimated 4 million workers abroad who prop up the economy. They are still not allowed to exercise their Constitutional right to vote, even after the Supreme Court ordered the government in 2018 to make arrangements to facilitate absentee ballots.Political leaders have ignored that ruling. Nepal’s main parties have made such a mess of governance that they sense (probably correctly) that the diaspora vote will be anti-incumbent.And, as Tilu Sharma argues from Qatar, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-days-of-international-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s migrant workers</a> know only too well the hurdles the government puts on their path, while using the money they send home to keep the national economy afloat. The fight to be heard is even more challenging abroad where our workers, despite filling jobs not wanted by locals, in what are known as the ‘D3’ (Difficult, Dangerous, Dirty) are treated as invisibles.In this Labour Day Special edition, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Madhusudhan Ojha</a> walks us through the struggle of the Migrant Worker Union in Korea to gain legitimacy. The pioneers of that labour movement included Nepalis who risked deportation and detention for better rights in a foreign land. Ojha’s experience shows the importance of collective bargaining, while also demonstrating how it is an ongoing and often thankless process with some of their demands the same as what it was decades ago. <img width="468" height="727" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111120/637216ae9c7e80680e0ba9a6jpeg.jpg" alt="">If this is the situation in one of the better-run bilateral migration programs, it is not difficult to imagine how Nepali workers are treated in other destinations like <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Qatar</a>, the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Malaysia, or India. In most of these places, migrant workers are banned from unionising.UAE resident and journalist Umakanta Pandey is currently in detention, not for criticising the Emirati government but on a complaint by the Nepal Embassy for posting about visit visa misuse that put workers at risk. When a Nepali citizen is serving time in the UAE at the request of a Nepali state organ, how can we expect Singha Darbar to be more vigilant about protection of our overseas workers?It is a tragic irony that while Nepal prepares for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/coalition-calculation/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local elections</a>, not only are our overseas workers not allowed to vote, but their sacrifices get barely a mention. In fact, the government is only worried about how falling remittances have further reduced Nepal’s forex reserves. Politicians are even calling on migrants to send money through legal channels to help out in this time of crisis.Then there is the much-touted <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> which has failed to deliver as promised. The lesson here is to empower local governments for decision-making, provide them with resources and promote seamless coordination with the federal government.A more honest way to mark Labour Day would be to under-promise and over-deliver, have more work and less talk. But with parties on the campaign trail, all we hear is lofty talk and more empty promises.May Day coverage this week and over the last 21 years in this paper have time and again demonstrated the role of the ‘remittance senders’. One such story is that of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prakash Gurung</a> who worked as a safety adviser at an off-shore oil rig in Qatar and has returned. His is a story of wasted potential, wasted opportunities.Gurung’s story is an example of how Nepalis can also fill high-paying jobs in the Gulf, but have been largely unable to do so. Despite having workplace safety monitoring skills and experience that would be critical for our economy, the returnee has turned to agriculture in frustration.Migrant workers like Tilu Sharma, Madhusudhan Ojha and Prakash Gurung in this edition of Nepali Times have called out <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-migration-in-the-2020s/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">state complacency and neglect</a>. And elections this year are not likely to address these issues faced by migrant, especially since they cannot even vote.Remittance inflows decreased 1.7% to Rs631.19 billion, and 3% to $5.28 billion in the eight month review period ending mid-March. The number of Nepalis taking labour approval including renewals bounced back to 406,162 in the same period.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali migrant workers</a> will continue to chart their own paths, test their luck overseas and silently contribute to the economy with the state doing nothing more than putting hurdles every step of the way before they leave, while they are abroad, and once they return.

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Mirage of migrant rights

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea49c7e80680e0bd559jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="960"/><figcaption>RIGHT IS MIGHT: Madhusudhan Ojha Is the general secretary of the Migrant Trade Union in Korea and is seen here participating in various street demonstrations for rights of foreign workers. Photos courtesy of: MADHUSUDHAN OJHA</figcaption></figure>When I was studying for the competitive Korean language test for migrant workers while in Nepal, I never imagined that I would one day be working as a labour activist here in South Korea.My sole intention to migrate overseas was to work and earn just like the 8,000 or so other Nepalis who join Korea’s Employment Permit Scheme (EPS) every year. But my initial experience in the country was not pleasant.On my very first day, even before I started work, I was scolded by my employer. I later realised that it was just a psychological tactic to show me who was boss. I was verbally, and sometimes even physically, abused.He would stand behind me and push me to do things quicker. After enduring this for some time, I sought help from the Nepal Embassy, labour counselors and work centres set up to help migrant workers like me.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries 1</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea69c7e80680e0bd55ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="468" height="727">I was unable to change my job because my employer would not give me the mandatory release paper. One of the agencies I approached did not want to take a secret audio recording as evidence of abuse, saying it needed video proof.Finally, I reached out to Korea’s Migrant Trade Union (MTU) which served a warning to the employer, and even threatened a demonstration in front of his office if he did not give me my release paper. He obliged – and I had just witnessed the power of a workers’ union. Before long I had become an office bearer of the MTU.Korea’s EPS is a huge improvement to the previous labour system, the Industrial Trainee Scheme (ITS) that brought in foreign workers as ‘trainees’. Workers had to pay exorbitant amounts to get these jobs that were mediated by the private sector, which meant it was not merit but ability to pay that decided the fate of job-seekers.Landing in Korea as a trainees meant they were also vulnerable to exploitation. Employers paid migrants at their discretion and got away with exploiting them. Workers who had paid high fees (sometimes up to Rs 1 million in the case of Nepali workers) would escape abusive employers or overstay their visas as they could not change jobs. The system itself was designed to encourage undocumented workers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries 2</a>, Nepali Times In 2003, there was a nationwide crackdown and deportation of workers, migrants protested and demanded the legalisation of undocumented workers for over a year. Activists of the movement were arrested, detained and deported. This united migrant workers and laid a foundation for the formation Migrant Trade Union.While it was founded in 2005, the registration of MTU with the Ministry of Labour as a legitimate trade union was at first rejected on the grounds that it included illegally employed foreigners who do not have the right to join labour unions. It filed a lawsuit against this decision and it was only ten long years later that Korea’s Supreme Court in 2015 finally ruled in favor of the MTU.By the time I came to South Korea in 2014, the struggle by my predecessors, including workers from Nepal, was already decades old. I never forget that I am standing on the shoulders of giants who laid the foundation for us to fight the good fight.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries 3</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea89c7e80680e0bd55bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1424" height="1440">And for us, the good fight is primarily for a Work Permit System (WPS) in lieu of the EPS. The EPS is indeed significantly better than the ITS, as workers are hired based on a limit and all workers can recuperate the standard recruitment fee within a month of employment. But although the system allows workers to change jobs up to three times legally, it requires permission from the employer which gives them disproportionate power.The WPS would allow workers to change jobs without employer consent and give more power to workers. Many workers continue with jobs they do not like because of the fear of repercussions – recruitment fees may not be a big investment for Korean jobs like elsewhere in the Gulf or Malaysia, but workers invest an immense amount of time, money and effort to pass the language exam to qualify for the EPS.Aside from our fight for WPS, we continue to shine the light on key migrant issues. Most recently, we demonstrated in front of the office of President-elect Yoon Suk-yeol calling for the elimination of discrimination via a comprehensive law and for introduction of the Worker Permit System.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-4/">Diaspora Diaries 4</a>, Nepali TimesDuring Covid-19, we advocated for worker rights to ensure the visa extension of current workers and against discriminatory testing requirement for foreigners and locals that was recalled soon after its announcement.Similarly, the Korean government has passed a decision that it is illegal for employers to place workers especially in the agriculture sector in ‘containers’ (temporary accommodations such as perforated plastic houses, warehouses). But the ban has still not been enshrined in the law which is what we are fighting for so employers can actually be held accountable.We look at other countries where Nepalis are working, and realise how much more privileged we are in Korea to have a recognised trade union as migrant workers. In many countries, unions for foreign workers are banned.We are also fortunate to have the backing of the powerful Korean Confederation of Trade Unions (KCTU) and others which amplify our voice, and also provide us with resources to continue our work as membership fees alone are not sufficient for the work we do. South Korea has a lot to offer for foreign workers, and the lives of migrant workers and their families back home do get transformed dramatically by the money we send home. But there is always room for improvement.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721eab9c7e80680e0bd55cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="509" height="720">Changes can be achieved if we continue to fight for them. Sometimes they are immediate, and at other times they take longer. But as long as we keep at it, reform is possible. When we look back and see how far we have come from where our predecessors in Korea started, there is much to be optimistic about.In 1995, 13 Nepalis wrapped themselves in chains and protested at the Myeondong Cathedral for over a week. They referred to themselves as ‘Nepalis job trainees sold to Korean soil’ and protested with signs against physical abuse by employers. There was no Nepali Embassy in Seoul at that time so the  ambassador from Japan had to be brought in to resolve the situation.The preceding year in 1994, there were nine undocumented Nepali workers who escaped abusive employers. They had paid exorbitant recruitment fees, were heavily in debt, and faced unpaid salaries and abuse. They escaped and prepared for protests with the Korean Confederation of Trade Unions since there were no unions for migrants back then.Such scattered protests by migrant workers including Nepalis have taken place in South Korea. Many foreign workers got deported in the process, but did not let this fear dissuade them from the struggle.  Their efforts lay the strong foundation for the Korean Migrant Trade Union that has provided an important platform for us to fight freely for positive, durable reforms for foreign workers here.Collective bargaining is a privilege we can enjoy because of the sacrifice and vision of our predecessors. We are simply continuing their struggle.Madhusudhan Ojha  is the General Secretary of Korea’s Migrant Trade Union (MTU).Read more:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fate-joins-then-separates-siblings/">Fate joins, then separates, siblings</a>, Anil Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/"> Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung

Power of workers working together

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea09c7e80680e0bd558jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3072" height="2048"/>The wellbeing of every country on Earth can be measured by how much leisure time its citizens have. Industrialised nations are so productive that they allow their taxpayers to laze about, take long vacations, and fully enjoy the fruits of their labour. In poorer countries, however, donkeys like us have to work our asses off.In fact, you can accurately gauge how well-off a country is by how many national holidays it has in any given year. Which is why it is good news that the Grabberment of Nepal is going boldly forth to announce a two-day weekend from Jest First, and the only last minute hitch is whether to also keep the official Friday half-days.The long weekends will mean that Nepal will not just be graduating from Least Developed Country to Middle Income Country by 2025, but also leap-frog into becoming Fully-Developed in the process. Yay!Taking a country’s Gross National Holiday Index (GNHI) as metrics, Nepal already ranks right up there with OECD member states in terms of annual holidays per capita. Despite our laid-back attitude, we have still managed to mine all our rivers of sand and boulders, dug unnecessary roads, and built view-towers atop all our mountains.Even before the 5-day work week, Nepal already held the world record as the country with the most national holidays. We give holidays for five different new year days every year. Communists in government commemorate the opium of the asses to celebrate all the holy days in every major world religion. Even Holi Day is a holiday.We are now a proud Lock Tantrik Republic, which makes it mandatory to have holidays for Praja Tantrick Diwas (the day we threw off the Rana yolk), Lok Tantrick Diwas (when we broke the Shah yolk), Gun Tantrick Diwas (the day to demonstrate that political power indeed comes out of the barrel of a gun), and Sambidhan Diwas (to remind politicians that the laws of the land are written to be broken).With a 2-day weekend, holidays for solar and lunatic eclipses, and a day off to mark the International Day for the Preservation of the Ozone Layer, Nepal will have 312 holidays in a year. And we are not even counting 2020 and 2021, when we all got two whole years off.There are some workaholic spoilsports who bemoan this. Relax. First of all, having more holidays will reduce petrol and diesel consumption, not just lowering Nepal’s petroleum import bill, but also improving air quality. It will also mean that there will now be more fuel available to smuggle across the border to India, allowing Nepalis a chance to earn valuable Indian currency, and reduce the country’s widening trade gap.Also, government offices going down from a 42-hour week to 35-hour week will have a direct impact on reducing corruption. Fewer bribes will be given and taken if there are fewer hours in a week to do so.Nepal’s position in the Transparency International ranking will then improve from being the second most corrupt country in South Asia to the third most corrupt country in the Subcontinent.

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Working our asses off

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

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

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

Water for Life

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