<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0c24b0ad905ca02f02djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1130" height="899"/><figcaption>Photo: UNICEF NEPAL</figcaption></figure>Results from a recent nationwide survey show that more than half of Nepali households are at risk of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rise-in-poverty-due-to-covid-19-to-affect-children/">falling back into poverty</a> because of loss of jobs and income during 2020 due to the pandemic. And it is the children who are affected the most.This newspaper has been tracking the outcomes of these surveys that were conducted in May, July, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/covid-19-impact-on-food-and-school-in-nepali-children/">August</a> and October. It is a sobering reminder that while the national leadership is engrossed in a fight to the finish in Kathmandu, the state has left Nepalis (especially the most vulnerable) to fend for themselves in dealing with the health and economic impact of the Covid-19 crisis.The surveys were conducted by <a href="https://www.sharecast.org.np/">Sharecast Initiative</a> for <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/sites/unicef.org.nepal/files/2020-08/UNICEF%20Child%20and%20Family%20Tracker%20Survey.pdf">Unicef</a> and the last one in October involved a representative sample of 6,558 households with children all over the country.The most striking finding was that 42% of households in Nepal have no earnings at all, and a further 19% have a combined monthly family income of less than Rs10,000. This means the official figure for Nepal’s population living below the poverty line will need to be drastically revised.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0c54b0ad905ca02f02ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="763" height="491">The National Planning Commission’s 2014 survey of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Nepal-%20Multidimensional-Poverty-Index,4115">Multidimensional Poverty Index</a> showed that the incidence of poverty had fallen from nearly <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/schooling-and-nutrition-poverty-in-nepal,1098">60% in 2006 to 28.6% in 2014</a> – largely because household incomes rose due to remittances. With the Covid crisis, Nepal’s poverty rate may have climbed back to the level 15 years ago at the end of the conflict.The Unicef survey shows that the incidence of household poverty during the Covid-19 crisis is spread unevenly through Nepal. For instance, the majority of those who remain in the ‘no earning’ category this year are from rural parts of Sudurpaschim and Lumbini Provinces. A quarter of them tend to be female-led households and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-face-of-hunger-debt-malnutrition,3604">10% were Dalit families.  </a>The survey shows a clear correlation between the pandemic-induced loss of income across Nepal. For example, the survey in May had shown that there were zero households with no earnings, or those making less than Rs10,000 a month. Strikingly, this figure went up to 49% in July, and even climbed to a high of 64% in August (See graphs).By October it had fallen to 42%+19% with income below Rs10,000 a month, and it is likely even lower for December. However, 45% of households were still reporting loss of income, and even those with jobs were earning less.The data shows that except for Karnali, all six other provinces reported a decrease in job loss from May to October, 2020. Province 2 showed a consistently high level of those who had lost livelihoods, and there was little improvement from August to October.  Bagmati and Lumbini Provinces had the lowest percentage of respondents reporting job losses since August.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0c74b0ad905ca02f02fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="772" height="530"><figcaption>Loss of jobs in May, July, August and October.</figcaption></figure>The coping mechanism for most of those slipping into poverty was to borrow, dig into savings, cut household expenditure, migrate, or rely on remittances. Disaggregated data showed that 61% of Dalit families were forced to borrow to survive, while only 48% of non-Dalit families had to borrow money to run the household, revealing that caste differences can also mean a class gap.Increased indebtedness will lead many households to fall deeper into poverty. Female-led households tend to borrow less, depend more on savings and remittances, the findings show.Nepal’s children bore the brunt of falling household incomes by being deprived of adequate food, health care and education. In August, 34% of parents cited ‘food’ among the top three needs of their children, and by October this had dropped to 30%, while children’s education rose from 35% to 45%.One in five families still say they have to struggle to feed their children. This proportion has remained the same since August, and hunger was more prevalent in Provinces 1, 2 and Lumbini. Inflation, and loss of income were cited as causes.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0c94b0ad905ca02f030jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="911" height="606">To a certain extent, educational needs of children appeared to be met in October with 81% of households saying that their children were involved in some form of studying – most of them at home. Less than 15% were attending physical classes, 22% were online. However, in Sudurpaschim and Province 2, a quarter of families said their children were not attending school at all.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0cc4b0ad905ca02f031jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="504">Survey results tend to be dry and impersonal. But behind each of these numbing numbers are untold stories of families and children abandoned by an uncaring state. Is it too much to hope that in 2021, Nepal’s rulers will take steps to reverse this neglect?

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Pandemic of poverty

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9dd9c7e80680e0878e4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1130" height="899"/><figcaption>Photo: UNICEF NEPAL</figcaption></figure>Results from a recent nationwide survey show that more than half of Nepali households are at risk of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rise-in-poverty-due-to-covid-19-to-affect-children/">falling back into poverty</a> because of loss of jobs and income during 2020 due to the pandemic. And it is the children who are affected the most.This newspaper has been tracking the outcomes of these surveys that were conducted in May, July, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/covid-19-impact-on-food-and-school-in-nepali-children/">August</a> and October. It is a sobering reminder that while the national leadership is engrossed in a fight to the finish in Kathmandu, the state has left Nepalis (especially the most vulnerable) to fend for themselves in dealing with the health and economic impact of the Covid-19 crisis.The surveys were conducted by <a href="https://www.sharecast.org.np/">Sharecast Initiative</a> for <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/sites/unicef.org.nepal/files/2020-08/UNICEF%20Child%20and%20Family%20Tracker%20Survey.pdf">Unicef</a> and the last one in October involved a representative sample of 6,558 households with children all over the country.The most striking finding was that 42% of households in Nepal have no earnings at all, and a further 19% have a combined monthly family income of less than Rs10,000. This means the official figure for Nepal’s population living below the poverty line will need to be drastically revised.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9df9c7e80680e0878e5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="763" height="491">The National Planning Commission’s 2014 survey of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Nepal-%20Multidimensional-Poverty-Index,4115">Multidimensional Poverty Index</a> showed that the incidence of poverty had fallen from nearly <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/schooling-and-nutrition-poverty-in-nepal,1098">60% in 2006 to 28.6% in 2014</a> – largely because household incomes rose due to remittances. With the Covid crisis, Nepal’s poverty rate may have climbed back to the level 15 years ago at the end of the conflict.The Unicef survey shows that the incidence of household poverty during the Covid-19 crisis is spread unevenly through Nepal. For instance, the majority of those who remain in the ‘no earning’ category this year are from rural parts of Sudurpaschim and Lumbini Provinces. A quarter of them tend to be female-led households and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-face-of-hunger-debt-malnutrition,3604">10% were Dalit families.  </a>The survey shows a clear correlation between the pandemic-induced loss of income across Nepal. For example, the survey in May had shown that there were zero households with no earnings, or those making less than Rs10,000 a month. Strikingly, this figure went up to 49% in July, and even climbed to a high of 64% in August (See graphs).By October it had fallen to 42%+19% with income below Rs10,000 a month, and it is likely even lower for December. However, 45% of households were still reporting loss of income, and even those with jobs were earning less.The data shows that except for Karnali, all six other provinces reported a decrease in job loss from May to October, 2020. Province 2 showed a consistently high level of those who had lost livelihoods, and there was little improvement from August to October.  Bagmati and Lumbini Provinces had the lowest percentage of respondents reporting job losses since August.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9e19c7e80680e0878e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="772" height="530"><figcaption>Loss of jobs in May, July, August and October.</figcaption></figure>The coping mechanism for most of those slipping into poverty was to borrow, dig into savings, cut household expenditure, migrate, or rely on remittances. Disaggregated data showed that 61% of Dalit families were forced to borrow to survive, while only 48% of non-Dalit families had to borrow money to run the household, revealing that caste differences can also mean a class gap.Increased indebtedness will lead many households to fall deeper into poverty. Female-led households tend to borrow less, depend more on savings and remittances, the findings show.Nepal’s children bore the brunt of falling household incomes by being deprived of adequate food, health care and education. In August, 34% of parents cited ‘food’ among the top three needs of their children, and by October this had dropped to 30%, while children’s education rose from 35% to 45%.One in five families still say they have to struggle to feed their children. This proportion has remained the same since August, and hunger was more prevalent in Provinces 1, 2 and Lumbini. Inflation, and loss of income were cited as causes.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9e49c7e80680e0878e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="911" height="606">To a certain extent, educational needs of children appeared to be met in October with 81% of households saying that their children were involved in some form of studying – most of them at home. Less than 15% were attending physical classes, 22% were online. However, in Sudurpaschim and Province 2, a quarter of families said their children were not attending school at all.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9e69c7e80680e0878e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1050" height="504">Survey results tend to be dry and impersonal. But behind each of these numbing numbers are untold stories of families and children abandoned by an uncaring state. Is it too much to hope that in 2021, Nepal’s rulers will take steps to reverse this neglect?

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101136/636b748d9c7e80680e06239fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo : ALEX DUDLEY</figcaption></figure>Nepal is the first tiger-range country to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-many-tigers-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">double the number of the endangered big cats</a> in its reserves, and has marked five successive years of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/more-rhinos-means-more-encounter,4045" target="_blank" rel="noopener">zero rhino poaching</a> -- setting a model for conservation, especially as a country with limited resources.Yet at the same time Nepal has become a thriving transit hub for trafficked endangered species from India, and even Africa, to China. Although the current <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-nepal-must-watch-about-coronavirus-but-not-panic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Covid-19 epidemic</a> is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/coronavirus-outbreak-may-curb-wildlife-trafficking/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">expected to temporarily reduce the market for wildlife</a> (see adjoining piece), improved trans-Himalayan connectivity between Nepal and China could <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/better-nepal-china-connectivity-helps-wildlife-smugglers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">increase smuggling</a> of tiger and rhino body parts and pangolin scales.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/coronavirus-outbreak-may-curb-wildlife-trafficking/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Coronavirus outbreak may curb wildlife trafficking</a>, Sonia AwaleThe value of wildlife trade worldwide is estimated at $20 billion a year, making it an incredibly lucrative illicit business, behind only narcotics, human trafficking, and the arms trade. Poverty is often thought to be the main reason behind people’s involvement in this trade. But is it? “There is a common assumption that illegal wildlife trafficking is linked to poverty, but we cannot generalise,” explained Nepali conservationist Kumar Paudel, currently a postgraduate student at the University of Cambridge. “What is the extent of the poverty that leads to wildlife poaching? Are they poaching to provide the next meal for their families, or do they not have enough money to afford a car or a bungalow?”Three years ago, Paudel interviewed 116 individuals serving time in jails across Nepal for trafficking in wildlife, and he has published some of his findings in <a href="https://conbio.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/csp2.137?fbclid=IwAR004cvFh3G7Mn4-lmH8EQAYbjpM8GmCN2KlYmEN2fVnLNgBbuW63wXFPnk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">a recent paper</a> in the journal Conservation Science and Practice. He asked interviewees about their trade practices, economic conditions and motivations.While 56% percent were living below the World Bank poverty line, Poudel found that for many others, poaching was a means not of survival but rather of increasing disposable income. Comfortably-off people and even university graduates were involved in illegal hunting.More than 60% of the respondents were arrested for involvement in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=654#.XkUaFjIzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">rhino poaching</a>, and said illegal wildlife trade was a relatively easy occupation compared to other employment. Nearly all poachers were male, and almost all knew what they were doing was illegal. Three-fourths were from indigenous communities living near protected areas.Interestingly, Paudel found that 65% of the detained poachers did not think they would be caught, and 84% said they would go back to illegal wildlife trade after being released. “This goes to show that despite having some of the world’s stiffest penalties for wildlife crimes, poachers and smugglers undermine Nepal’s enforcement mechanism or know of loopholes to avoid the penalties, which points to impunity and a lenient system,” Paudel told Nepali Times in an interview. Still, most of the respondents were arrested within a year of having gotten involved in poaching, which seems to show that enforcement is working.The involvement of the Army in guarding Nepal’s national parks has often been credited for the country’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-conservation-nepal-is-not-out-of-the-woods-yet/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">success in curbing the illegal wildlife trade</a>. In India’s protected areas, poaching is rampant. However, while enforcement works in the conservation of mega fauna like wild elephants, rhinos and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">tigers</a>, there are questions about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lesser-known-endangered-species/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">smaller endangered species</a> living outside parks, and of sustainability of the method.“An enforcement-based approach is expensive given the number of police and army officials that need to be recruited, so it begs the question: who will pay for it, especially when we need to work on protection of other smaller species too?” asked Paudel, pointing out that most of those detained appear to be small fry. He added: “It is time we reviewed our enforcement approach and better communicated research to improve the mechanism for conservation.”

Sonia Awale

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What drives wildlife poaching?

<figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f779c7e80680e056e2ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina reaches out to touch her husband‘s face one last time before his cremation at Pashupati in August. Kedar Timalsina hung himself at a seafood factory in Busan where he worked. Photos: Ki Mindo/ The Seoul Shinmun</figcaption></figure>For many Nepalis, it is dream to find work in Korea where they expect to earn many times more than in Nepal. Yet, there is a dark side to the Korean Dream: between 2009 to 2018, there were 143 deaths of Nepali workers in South Korean soil, and of them 43 were suicides.The 31% suicide rate is much higher than workers from other nationalities. Among Burmese workers, there was a total of 51 deaths and 4 involved suicide, from 2011 to August 2019. Suicides rate is relatively low among Vietnamese migrant workers with zero suicide out of the 14 deaths from 2017 to August 2019.Most of these deaths involved E-9 non-professional employment visa holders who had been employed at farms and factories that suffer a chronic labour shortage. While these tragic deaths repeat every year, the South Korean government does not have a clue why so many migrant workers make such an extreme choice."Nepali migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system tend to be highly educated," notes Seo Seonyoung, a Sociology researcher at Yonsei University. “Their families have great expectation for them, but as soon in Korea they find themselves at the lowest rung of the workforce ladder. The unbearable stress could eventually force them to commit suicide." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7a9c7e80680e056e2fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A mother holds the photograph of her son, who suffered from depression while working in South Korea, and died after he returned. There have been 43 suicides by Nepali workers in Korea between 2009-2018.</figcaption></figure>There are growing voices calling for a systematic improvement to end the vicious cycle. The South Korean government has been trying to improve ties as part of its 'New Southern Policy' to balance its need for migrant workers to address the shortfall of workers.There are now 2.42 million migrant workers in Korea, and the number has nearly doubled in the past 10 years. Local farms and factories cannot function without migrant workforces.Hong Sung Soo, Law professor at Sookmyung Women's University says: "Discrimination and xenophobia towards migrants are not only inappropriate, but also not clever at all if we consider our industrial and demographic reality."Labour rights groups and health activists have been trying to find out why there is such a high suicide rate among Nepali migrant workers in farms and factories in South Korea."It is not just a single factor, there is a web of complex reasons that trap migrant workers towards the extreme choice," explains Jeong Young-seob, Co-director of the group, Migrants Act.A field survey in August of 141 migrant workers from Nepal by the Seoul Shinmun newspaper, Green Hospital and the Migrants Trade Union showed that there were four main factors: gap between expectation and reality of working in Korea, lack of exit, high expectations from loved ones back home, and ruined relationships in Nepal.Great Expectations = Great DisappointmentsTo aspiring Nepali migrant workers, South Korea is a land of opportunity, where they hope to earn five to eight times more than in a job back home. Even highly educated young Nepalis apply for an E-9 visa to South Korea. But when they arrive, they often struggle with harsh labour conditions and discrimination. Of the respondents in the survey, 28% cited a gap between the reality of their work and the expectations they had. Like Surendra, 28, who has been working in a mushroom farm for three years. He has a degree from Tribhuvan University.He says: "Before I came here, I was excited about earning Rs300,000 a month, but I had no idea about working and living conditions. Back home we rarely experience working for 12 hours without any real break. I was not even learning any skills, it was simple manual labour.”The survey showed that 45.6% of the respondents worked more than 52 hours a week, and 19% said they worked 60 hours a week, and only 26% said they had a normal 5-day work week.No ExitAfter working in South Korea for 16 months, Nepali migrant worker Shrestha, 27, jumped from the rooftop of his company dorm in June 2017. He had been suffering from insomnia as he struggled to adjust to alternate day and night shifts. His suicide note said: ‘I have been seeing doctors for health problems and sleep disorders. It did not improve. I wanted to quit and find another job but the company did not allow it. I wanted to go back to Nepal to recover, but the company said no.’ The survey showed that 71% of respondents had tried to find a new job, and 36% of them said this was because of long working hours and dangerous conditions.Migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system are allowed to change workplaces up to three times within a three-year period. But it requires permission from their employers.Hard WorkNo matter how harsh and hostile the work environment in Korea, returning to Nepal is not an option for most. It was not easy for them to come to Korea in the first place, and they carry the weight of their family's expectations on their shoulders."If migrant workers go back, the villagers would criticise them for forsaking a great opportunity, people will laugh at their failure and brand them weak. Caught between a rock and a hard place, many Nepali migrant workers commit suicide," explained Udaya Rai, the Nepali head of the Migrants Trade Union.Ruined RelationshipsWhat sustains migrant workers despite harsh working conditions in Korea is love of families back home. However, when their relationship collapses, it leads to great emotional stress. Tej Bahadur Gurung, 29, had two friends who committed suicide due to family or relationship problems.Kham Gurung, 45, recalled: "I had to deal with a family issue while I was working non-stop in Korea, but I couldn't afford to go back. That really tormented me."Naivety and lack of exposure to the outside world among Nepali youth who need better jobs to take care of their families creates a problem, says Kapil B Dahal of the Department of Anthropology at Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu.Dahal says there have been no systematic study of suicides among Nepali migrant workers in Korea, or elsewhere. The Korean Ministry of Justice keeps a record of the deaths of migrant workers by country, but does not have data on the cause of death."Nepali migrant workers in the Middle East and Europe also commit suicides, yet the Nepal government and politicians do not do anything. Nepali migrant workers make a great contribution to the country's economy, but their health is overlooked and their suicides are ignored," Dahal says.The Nepal Embassy in Seoul offers counseling services for migrant workers, but Udaya Rai of the Migrant Trade Union questioned its effectiveness. "They are not interested in addressing these deaths and suicides, they fear the South Korean government might slash the quota for Nepalis if we start to speak up. That is why they stay silent and hurriedly send bodies back to Nepal." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7d9c7e80680e056e30jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Wrapped in cardboard, the coffin containing the remains of Kedar Timalsina arrives at Kathmandu airport in September.</figcaption></figure>Kedar Timalsina, 28 A coffin was rolled out of the arrival area of Kathmandu airport recently. Inside was the body of Kedar Timalsina who hanged himself on 20 July in Busan inside the warehouse of the seafood processing factory where he worked."This paper doesn't say anything about why Kedar killed himself," family members at Kathmandu airport said, examining his death certificate from South Korean police.Kedar’s family could not understand why he would kill himself. It had been only 25 days since his wife Bandana gave birth to their first son. "I even heard Kedar threw a big party in Korea to celebrate the birth of the baby. Why would such a man kill himself? It doesn't make any sense," said Bandana’s brother. Kedar had an aging mother who just turned 60, and would need his care more than before.What further frustrates the grieving family is the silence and indifference from both their government and the Korean authorities. For the Nepal Embassy in Seoul its responsibility was over after shipping the coffin to Kathmandu. South Korean police never investigated surveillance camera footage at the factory, or forensics on Kedar’s phone. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f809c7e80680e056e31jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina with her son in her lap at their home in Dong Kharka village in September. The baby was only 25 days old when her father Kedar Timalsina took his own life while working at a factory in South Korea. </figcaption></figure>According to South Korean police, Kedar’s co-worker had told them he had recently purchased some land in Nepal, which turned out to be a fraud. Kedar’s family says that is not true because the land he bought two years ago had nearly doubled in price. None of Kedar’s personal belongings were returned to his family, and Korean police said the Embassy had told them the family did not want them back. The family said the Embassy had never contacted them about his belongings."We are responsible for confirming the identity and death certificate in order to promptly return the body back to family in Nepal. The Embassy does not send back items unless they are important," the Embassy of Nepal replied when asked about it.At the cremation site in Pashupati, Bandana wept as she caressed her husband’s face for the last time. “What do I do with our baby?” she cried. It took four hours for the fire to consume Kedar’s body, and with it his ‘Korean Dream’. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f829c7e80680e056e32jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Maiya Gurung looks at a picture of her daughter with her husband Bal Bahadur Gurung, who committed suicide by jumping off a bridge in Seoul in June. After failing to secure a new job, Gurung was facing deportation back to Nepal. </figcaption></figure>Bal Bahadur Gurung, 32 "He really loved the children. These kids remind me of my husband every time I see them," said Maiya Gurung, 28, wiping tears with a tissue under her shades.Maiya's husband Bal Bahadur Gurung jumped off the Wolleung Bridge in Seoul, on 12 June, and died instantly after being hit by a passing vehicle. CCTV footage showed Bal Bahadur walking nervously back-and-forth over the bridge several times, hesitating. He had become an ‘unregistered’ migrant two days ago, and feared deportation.Bal Bahadur entered South Korea with a proper work visa in October 2017. In March, he left the company and registered himself at the Ministry of Labor to find another job. Migrant workers automatically lose their right to stay in the country if they fail to secure employment within three months. Bal Bahadur went back to Nepal to spend a short time with his family then returned to Korea, but had no luck finding a job within the three month deadline.Maiya Gurung came to South Korea to take her husband’s remains. Her neighbours tell her that her husband looked so happy when he was visiting Pokhara two months before his suicide. Shocked by his youngest son’s tragic death, Bal Bahadur’s father, a former soldier, is suffering from amnesia.Maiya’s seven-year-old daughter asks her: “Did Daddy die?”“No,” she replies, “your father has gone abroad to work." Maiya Gurung weeps as she tells us later, “I want to die, too. But when I think of these poor children, I can't." <figure><img width="720" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f859c7e80680e056e33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English. He took his own life eight years ago in Korea after an altercation with a Mongolian worker.</figcaption></figure>Dhan Raj Ghale, 40 ‘I am enocent. I have no mistake. Company cheating me. I am no crazy […] company take my signiture [...] please investigation please’ This is the note left by Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English before he hanged himself in 2011 while working at a futon factory in Daegu City. Dhan even had a plane ticket booked to go back to Nepal.Upon seeing a Korean reporter in August in Pokhara, Dhan’s wife Man Maya Ghale, 48, and Dhan’s younger brother Bhim Raj Ghale, 36, recalled the events of eight years ago.Bhim said his older brother was a hard-working man who loved his family more than anything else in the world. “After seeing the letters, I thought Dhan must have been bullied at work,” Bhim recalled.Dhan also left another short letter written in Nepali: ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I once fought with another worker from Mongolia. I don’t know what that Mongolian guy told Korean people…’He also wrote twice to the manager of the company: ‘You don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t understand. Please tell me why.’ <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f879c7e80680e056e34jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Bahadur Ghale's brother Bhim with his suicide note at the family home in Pokhara in September.</figcaption></figure>The company, however, denied there was bullying, and that Dhan was never asked to sign any document. Dhan may have found Korea’s alternate day and night shifts difficult, and had been working night shifts for two months before his death. “My husband told me he could not sleep when he was working night shifts,” Man Maya recalled.Dhan’s daughter and son were ten and five at the time of their father’s death. Now they are in college and school. "I will never forgive those people who mistreated my father,” Dhan's son vows revenge, and the siblings have made joint promises to themselves they will never go overseas to work no matter what.Nevertheless, Man Maya and Bhim said they did not hate Koreans. “You see in South Korea, as well as in Nepal, there are good people and bad people. Sadly, my husband met bad people. I don’t want to blame all Koreans because of them. I just want those bad ones to be punished.”Some names have been changed.Ki Mindo is a reporter for The Seoul Shinmun key5088@seoul.or.kr These articles are reprinted under special arrangement with the Seoul Shinmun which published the <a href="https://www.seoul.co.kr/news/newsView.php?id=20191001500198">stories</a> in Korean on 23 September, 2019 as part of a Special Series titled 'The 2019 Migrant Report: Betrayed Korean Dreams'.More stories from Nepali Times on Nepalis in Korea:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-kafala-migrants-in-Korea,4025">Korea Kafala</a> by Om Astha Rai and Seulki Lee in Seoul<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korea-treating-Nepali-migrant-workers-right,2813">Doing it the right way</a> by Seulki Lee<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/interview-with-Korean-ambassador-Choi-Yong-Jin,2767">“Hope Nepal’s difficulties end soon” </a> Interview with Korean Ambassador hoe Yong Jin

Dead end of the Korean Dream

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40439c7e80680e04a60ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1150" height="668"/><figcaption>Sharecast Initiative</figcaption></figure>More than 26% of Nepali households have someone working outside the country. This includes 43.4% of families in Far-Western Province, where most migrate to India. Gandaki Province is next with 38.3%, while the number is 18.3% in Province 3, which includes Kathmandu.A nationwide survey by <a href="http://www.sharecast.org.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sharecast Initiative</a> shows that most of the $6.6million that the 4 million Nepalis working abroad sent home is used for basics like food (60%), clothing (42%), medical treatment (36%) and children’s education (35%). Only a small amount (10%) is invested in land and just 6.5% is saved in a bank.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=26317&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Can't get no satisfaction</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=26348&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Survey is wakeup call for Nepal government</a>, Rameshwar BohoraThe proportion of households with at least one person working abroad is highest among Muslims (36%) and Hill Dalit (34%) families, while ‘High Caste’ Tarai and Tharu households have the fewest members abroad.The survey found that most workers (48%) used bank transfers to send their earnings home, while a third still use the informal hundi channel. Only 1% say they send money home with friends. Hundi transfers are lowest in Province 3 (24%), while bank transfers were lowest in Far-Western Province (21%).Thanks in part to these foreign earnings, the survey reports a number of positive developments: 94% of respondents had electricity, 95% had latrines, 74% (which is still low) had a drinking water supply, 75% now live near some kind of road, and 70% of households use LPG for cooking.Nepal’s poverty rate has fallen dramatically due to remittances, which could be why survey results show that 41% of Nepalis feel the country is headed in the right direction. What should shock Nepal’s politicians is just how low an opinion the people have of them. More than 54% of respondents said they did not believe what political leaders said, and half did not trust the parties. More than a quarter did not trust the Federal Parliament, and 26% were not satisfied with local governments.

Outward bound

<figure><img width="1400" height="762" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a406b9c7e80680e04a61cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Pic: Sneha KC</figcaption></figure>There was great hope among Nepalis that the first local government elections in two decades, in 2017, would finally improve accountability and help raise living standards, but a recent public opinion poll shows that their optimism has faded.Two years after the local governments were formed and a year after provincial and federal governments took office, most Nepalis say they are disillusioned with their elected representatives in all three tiers of government.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=26316&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Outward Bound</a> <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=26317&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Can't get no satisfaction</a>, EditorialThere is a yawning chasm between slogans and performance. The Nepal Communist Party (NCP) government that promised ‘Prosperous Nepal, Happy Nepalis’ and ‘Zero Tolerance of Corruption’ is seen to not be walking its talk. Public disdain for politicians and their parties has never been greater.There appears to be a correlation between widespread media coverage of the executive, legislature and judiciary being under the control of vested interest groups and the public’s negative perception. For example, when asked if they trusted President Bidya Devi Bhandari’s office, only 7.8% said yes while 14.6% said they did not trust it at all. This is likely due to press coverage of profligacy of her office, and frequent traffic snarls caused by presidential motorcades.The survey results, carried out by <a href="http://www.sharecast.org.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sharecast Initiative</a> Nepal among a sample size of 4,129 respondents in 42 districts, reveal that disillusionment is greatest in areas and among groups with greater access to the mainstream press and social media. <img width="1400" height="326" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a406e9c7e80680e04a61djpeg.jpg" alt="">While most of the results indicate growing public dissatisfaction with the government, 41% agreed that the country was headed in the right direction, while 27% felt it was going the wrong way. This is a slight decline compared to last year’s Sharecast survey, when 43% of respondents felt the country was on the right track.This result corresponds with findings of A Survey of the Nepali People, carried out by Inter Disciplinary Analysts and Kathmandu University among a much larger sample size (7,056) in 73 districts in 2018. That poll showed that overall 51% of the people felt the country was headed the right way.Responses to the question broken down by province are identical in the Sharecast and KU/IDA surveys even though they were taken a year apart.The highest percentage of those who think the country is headed in the wrong direction is in Province 3 (34%), while 4.9% of respondents in Far-Western Province say Nepal is on the right track.It is not unusual that Province 3 is so cynical, since it includes Kathmandu Valley, whose citizens are most exposed to media reporting of corruption and the lack of accountability. Residents of the Far-Western Province and Province 2, by contrast, still seem to hope that things will get better. Indeed, overall the people of the Tarai seem more convinced than those living in the mountains that the country is moving in the right direction.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-do-not-trust-present-crop-of-leaders,2509" target="_blank" rel="noopener">None of the above</a>, Kunda Dixit<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/people-care-more-about-inflation-joblessness-corruption,2510" target="_blank" rel="noopener">It's governance, stupid</a>, Om Astha Rai <img width="1400" height="329" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a406f9c7e80680e04a61ejpeg.jpg" alt="">A cross-tabulation of the responses shows that the more educated Nepalis are, the more they seem to think the country has drifted off track. And among ethnic groups, the Newa population seems to be the most cynical about where the nation is headed.The Sharecast survey also shows that the Nepali people were at best apathetic and at worst negative about the work of the federal government in the past year. Only 4.2% were satisfied, 35% were dissatisfied and nearly 61% said they were neither satisfied nor dissatisfied.The greatest discontent about the conduct of the federal government in Kathmandu is in Far-Western Province – indicating that despite devolution people living in the periphery still feel neglected. But even the centre is not impressed with the centre. Most respondents in Province 3 had a dim view of the federal government’s functioning.Amid allegations that political power today is centralised among advisers in the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO), the level of distrust of the PMO (16.2%) was much higher than those who trusted it (10%), with 36% rating it ‘so-so’.The national Parliament also suffers a trust deficit, with more than a quarter of respondents saying they lack faith in the federal legislature.  Only 7% said they trusted Parliament, while 43% were ambivalent.Views of the track records of local governments and municipalities are also not encouraging. More than a quarter of respondents were ‘completely dissatisfied’ with their work, and only 7.4% were pleased. Again, the highest level of discontent with local government is in Province 3, while people in Province 1 seem to be most content with the performance of local municipalities.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s changing media landscape</a>, Sharecast Initiative<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-are-drifting-to-digital-media/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepalis are drifting to digital media</a>, Madhu Acharya and Bhumiraj Chapagain <img width="497" height="821" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40719c7e80680e04a61fjpeg.jpg" alt="">General dissatisfaction with all three tiers of government appears to be linked to confusion within infrastructure projects, corruption in sand mining and quarry contracts, obsession of elected representatives with their own perks and privileges, and poor governance.When asked how much they trusted political parties, nearly 45% said they did not trust them at all, while in Province 2 more than half said they had no faith in the parties. This figure has gone up: in last year’s survey 38% said they did not trust the parties. Nationwide, leaders of parties do not fare much better: 54% of respondents did not trust them, and it was a whopping 63.4% in Province 3.In a wakeup call for journalists, a full 47.2% said they did not have much faith in the media. Politically-slanted content and the over-commercialisation of the media appear to be behind this. Lawyers fared even worse, with 63% saying they don’t trust them much. But the most untrustworthy profession seems to be contractors, with 57% saying they do not trust them. This figure is even higher for Karnali Province, which is plagued by delays in infrastructure projects.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/himalmedia-public-opinion-survey-outcome,1947" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The people matter</a>, Editorial<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/what-federalism-himal-media-poll,4162" target="_blank" rel="noopener">What federalism?</a>, Om Astha Rai <img width="650" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40739c7e80680e04a620jpeg.jpg" alt="">MethodologyNepal Media Survey 2019 is the fourth in a series by the research group Sharecast Initiative Nepal. It was administered in January-February 2019 through face-to-face interviews among 4,129 respondents in 42 randomly selected districts spread over seven provinces. Data was collected using mobile devices with ONA software, indicated by grey dots in map (above). Respondents were 18 years or above, residing in the same household for at least 6 months. All data is weighed back to the Nepal Census 2011 and data quality-control measures were employed. <img width="1280" height="769" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40759c7e80680e04a621jpeg.jpg" alt="">Social IndicatorsThe Sharecast Initiative Survey conducted in January also included questions about socio-economic development and migration.The most encouraging sign is that the government's emphasis over the past decades on rural electrification, water and sanitation appears to have yielded results. Of the 4,129 individuals surveyed in 42 districts, 94% had electricity, 95% had latrines and 74% (which is still low) had a drinking water supply. However, it is a sign of development that 75% now live near some kind of road, while 70% of Nepalis seem to use LPG for cooking.With four million Nepalis working outside the country at any given time (half of them in India) responses to survey questions on migration and remittance show just how dramatically society is changing.A quarter of respondents had a household member working abroad, highest in Muslim (36%) or Hill Dalit (34%) families. Tarai Caste and Tharu households had the fewest members abroad. The proportion of families with at least one member working abroad was highest in Far-Western Province.Asked how overseas workers sent money home, most now use bank transfer (48%) while a third still use the informal hundi channel, while only 1% say they send money home with friends. Province 6 tops the rest in bank transfers — 81%.Asked to name the top three items that they spend remittance money on, 60% say they use it to buy food, 42% for clothing, 36% for medical treatment and 35% for children’s education. Some 10% used earnings to buy land, while only 6.5% saved it in a bank.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-lottery-of-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The lottery of migration</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/changing-the-headlines-on-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Changing the headlines on migration</a>, Upasana Khadka

Survey is wakeup call for Nepal government

https://youtu.be/W4CZxpM1mrITen years after the government finally abolished bonded debt labour, tens of thousands of Haliyas in western Nepal continue to suffer from this form of modern-day slavery.A person became a Haliya if the family could not pay back money borrowed from loan sharks at exorbitant interest rates. They were forced to work for free to pay back the debt, but many spent their whole lives in slavery because the interest kept piling up. The loan was then passed down to the next generation.Even though the practice is now banned, activists say that there are about 25,000 still working as bonded labourers in some of the most remote and underserved districts of western Nepal.Parmaram Tiruwa of Tirgaun of Baitadi was not on the list of about 17,000 Haliya who were ‘freed’, and today makes a living breaking stones by the roadside and working for his employer for a minimum wage.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171120/636930529c7e80680e03c0f1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Janaki and Parmaram Tiruwa of Tirgaun, Baitadi, still make their living through bonded labour. Photos: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>“There was serious under-counting while identifying Haliya, and since the government only counts those with official IDs, there has to be another data collection drive urgently,” says Rajuram Bhul, former president of Federation of National Haliya Liberation Societies. The government admits there may have been omissions, but is not inclined to do anything about it for now. “There may be people missing in our list but we are first resettling those identified as Haliya in the first phase. We do not want to take both processes forward simultaneously,” says Gopal Giri who heads the Settlement Management Department in Kathmandu.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-fake-poor/">Nepal's fake poor</a>, Nimendra Shahi in Baitadi<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14182#.W9KyHXszbIV">Slave labour</a>, Madhav Dhungel<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171120/636930559c7e80680e03c0f2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But even those identified as Haliya in the first count are not happy with their resettlement packages to build homes. Half of them are still waiting for compensation. The government has set the unrealistic target of resettling all remaining Haliya by the end of this fiscal year, but few are convinced.Those who got compensation packages of Rs150,000-500,000 say the amount was insufficient to get them started in life. Ram Bahadur Parki of Dadeldhura is well known because he was the first Haliya to be freed 10 years ago.“It is good to have my own place to live in, but with the money the government gave, I could only afford this barren land,” lamented Parki, who is luckier than most because he has a salaried job with the Federation.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171120/636930589c7e80680e03c0f3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The government says it is concentrating on providing land, not livelihoods for freed Haliya, but this threatens their health, education, employment and very survival. Matadevi Damai of Dipayal received seeds, hen, sewing machine and tailoring training from various charities, but life is still a struggle.Sabitri Bhul in Sanfebagar of Achham has two sons, one of whom sends money home from India, while another studied to be an agriculture technician, but is jobless. She asks: “What is the use of education, if nobody trusts us?”Then there are reports of some Haliya lapsing back into debt slavery, and going back to work for their old masters out of sheer desperation.“Much progress has been made in the past ten years but it is very slow, and one reason could be because they are Dalit,” says Hari Shreepaili, former CA member and coordinator of the Committee on Haliya Rehabilitation. “Indeed, up to 94% of Haliya are Dalit, and caste discrimination adds another layer of injustice to their lives. Back in Baitadi, Basanti Tiruwa automatically splashes her feet and drinks water from a tap set aside for Dalits, and does not touch a tap meant for the ‘upper’ castes.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171120/6369305c9c7e80680e03c0f4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In this village, there have always been two springs: one for the Dalits and one for the others. "Even today we are not allowed to touch the other water source,” Tiruwa explains.Among Tirgaun’s 20 families, only one person has passed Grade 10. Most make a living through wage labour, and the village suffers from water scarcity. Tea shops in the bazar still do not buy their milk, victims of rape are overwhelmingly Dalit and the perpetrators from outside the community. The town has always had two temples: both called Jagannath, and even the temple of the Dalits looks dilapidated.Says Dalit rights activist Karan Dayal: “We should evaluate the resettlement packages already handed out, and the next phase of identifying the remaining Haliya needs to start immediately.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14182#.W9F7GHszbIU">Slave labour</a><a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/leapfrogging-poverty-in-Nepal-guest-editorial,960">Leapfrogging poverty</a>, Vidyadhar Mallik<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171120/636930609c7e80680e03c0f5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171120/636930639c7e80680e03c0f6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The two Jagannath temples of Gothalapani, Baitadi. Dalits cannot go to the big Jagannath temple (left), while their own small temple looks more dilapidated.

Nothing to lose but their chains

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922ea9c7e80680e03a154jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="750"/><figcaption>A villager in Maspur, Humla weaves a doko basket from strips of bamboo.</figcaption></figure>“Jai grihasthi” is a greeting heard often in the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2013/03/13/not-so-far-west/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Far West</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali-on-canvas/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karnali </a>regions of Nepal, and is a way to wish each other success in life, livelihood, household and family.Here in Maspur village above Kawadi Khola, on the border between <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/northwestern-tip-of-nepal-Humla,3430" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Humla </a>and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Badimalika-a-ridge-too-far,3328" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bajura </a>districts, a strenuous two-day walk from the nearest road, it is a daily struggle for people to meet basic needs.Historically, people here flourished as traders, using goats and sheep as pack animals to carry grain from the plains up to Tibet, and bartering it for salt on the plateau. But the region now suffers from <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18119#.W6zEjXszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">food insecurity</a>, health problems, and lack of livelihood options.The reasons include the end of the Tibet trade, the emergence of roads and markets, a decrease in livestock numbers caused by new grazing restrictions, the destruction of local infrastructure during the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15778#.W6zKwnszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Maoist insurgency</a>, and an increase in population.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922ed9c7e80680e03a155jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922f09c7e80680e03a156jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922f49c7e80680e03a157jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="750"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Most now farm for a living, but agricultural yields are low because of the steep terrain, lack of irrigation, destruction of crops by pests, and antiquated technology. Most families can grow enough food to last only four or five months of the year. For the remaining, they must purchase or borrow food. But cash is scarce, so people rely heavily on subsidised food and loans.The nearest health post is a two-day walk away, time that farmers cannot afford, particularly during the busy harvest seasons. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/resistance-to-live-saving-drugs-threatens-to-set-back-progress-in-nepal" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tuberculosis </a>and gastrointestinal illnesses are pervasive and exacerbate the symptoms of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/malnutrition-stunting-wasting,3603" target="_blank" rel="noopener">malnutrition</a>. Many homes do not have <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/where-to-take-a-dump/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">toilets</a>, and hygiene is poor.Women and the 'lower' castes are especially disadvantaged. Women have limited mobility and control over household resources, and Dalits have very little land or education, and suffer discrimination.“I do not even know if we are Nepali citizens ... we Dalits are neglected and oppressed. We have little property, nobody looks after us, not the government, not the organisations, not the gods,” says Romalal Lwaar.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922f69c7e80680e03a158jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922f99c7e80680e03a159jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922fd9c7e80680e03a15ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kathmandu has neglected this part of Nepal, abandoning its people. The elected village council chairman Bagdal Malla said, “We have little budget, but a lot of work to be done. We do not have roads, and transport makes things expensive.”Everyone’s priority here is more roads so farmers have access to services and markets. Roads will also make it easier for government and NGO staff to be more effective.Said local Rajbahadur Budha, “We have a lot of resources, from our fields and natural resources. If there was a road, we could sell them. There would be more people travelling here, and more business. Without the road, there is no development.”As roads and markets become more accessible, communities here need to add value to their products so they are marketable. Some possibilities include cultivation and processing of medicinal and aromatic plants and high-value mushrooms or herbs, production of wool handicrafts, cheese, honey, and sustainable harvesting and processing of forest products. These activities need minimal external inputs, and can be achieved through skills trainings, mentorship, and micro-grants.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636923009c7e80680e03a15bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636923039c7e80680e03a15cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="750"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636923069c7e80680e03a15djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1067"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Subsistence farmers need help to improve work efficiency and reduce the labour burden. Harvests can be increased with irrigation, <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bio-pesticides</a> recharging-the-mountains-, greenhouses, and community seed banks. Improved technology such as better water mills, electricity, reliable mobile network, and fuel-efficient stoves will make work easier.There is an urgent need for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">better health care</a> and education. Existing health posts need maintenance and medicines, and additional health posts are required in remote areas. Hygiene education and encouraging women to use health services for deliveries and check-ups are also important.Women and members of ‘lower’ castes must be prioritised in these activities and in accessing technologies, micro-loans, and other resources.Currently, service delivery and other development activities are sporadic and ad-hoc. Sufficient resources must be allocated to allow for long-term, consistent engagement with the community. Outcomes should be regularly monitored and evaluated for lasting improvements.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636923089c7e80680e03a15ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As Nepal urbanises, fewer and fewer people in the rest of the country understand the struggles in places like Maspur village. The first step to rectifying this is education and awareness of the living conditions of rural Nepalis and the acknowledgement that they, too, have the right to a secure and healthy life.It is only when the needs and hopes of Nepalis who have been historically and systematically disempowered are properly incorporated into national policies and development plans that we can wish the people in places like the Kawadi Khola valley ‘Jai grihasti’.Jocelyn Powelson is a Fulbright researcher from the United States who spent three months in Humla this year

Life and livelihood in remote Nepal

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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