<figure><img width="1312" height="985" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720c499c7e80680e0b785fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nepali Times #1076 27 August - 2 September 2021</figcaption></figure>Two Nepali reporters are winners in top investigative journalism awards announced on 2 March, and have been recognised for their exposés of injustice.Namrata Sharma was awarded for her collaborative investigation with <a href="https://twitter.com/LucCaregari" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://twitter.com/LucCaregari&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2CyCMOSnO6MAhntAjBoSiD">Luc Caregari</a> from <a href="https://www.reporter.lu/menschenhandel-in-luxemburg-ausbeutung-hinter-legaler-fassade/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.reporter.lu/menschenhandel-in-luxemburg-ausbeutung-hinter-legaler-fassade/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2a_UpgwMRRcKDJR3jEFiGC">Reporter.lu</a> and <a href="https://www.financeuncovered.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.financeuncovered.org&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0I9wU_d46sSthh3mtbv5Tz">Finance Uncovered</a>, of the human trafficking of Nepali workers by Nepali-owned restaurants in Luxembourg. Bhrikuti Rai’s investigative report exposed illegal sand-mining in Nepal and the murder of environmental activist Dilip Mahato three years ago. She got the <a href="https://fjawards.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://fjawards.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2fAtsKTHconWIM0lnHsZ5T">Fetisov Journalism Award 2021</a> in the category Excellence in Environmental Reporting. Namrata Sharma is the former Chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal (CIJ-N), while Bhrikuti Rai reported for Nepali Times and The Kathmandu Post. Both the award-winning investigative reports had been carried in Nepali Times in 2021.Sharma’s investigation built on a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0uec_Ugialaei4yVhxvfSa">previous story</a> involving human trafficking and modern slavery in the Nepali restaurant trade in Finland. She used her extensive contacts in the South Asian migrant community across Europe to expose the crime in her collaborative story <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-abused-by-nepalis-in-luxembourg/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-abused-by-nepalis-in-luxembourg/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1TinxURPSJQVRybROg2io_">‘Nepalis exploited by Nepalis in Luxembourg’</a>.  <figure><img width="640" height="603" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720c4c9c7e80680e0b7860jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Namrata Sharma</figcaption></figure>Workers at a popular Nepali restaurant in the Grand Duchy told her of serial beatings and other human rights abuses by the owner. The workers themselves had been trafficked from Nepal, and lured after paying money to the owners for their work permits.Although initially fearful of speaking out, the workers told Sharma about how they were barred from going out, their passports were confiscated, and their bank accounts controlled. The owners withdrew their employees’ wages,  and  made them work for free for a year.Sharma is working with other European whistleblowers on cross-border investigations of abuse and human trafficking by other Nepalis. <figure><img width="1317" height="987" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720c509c7e80680e0b7861jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Nepali Times #1043 8-14 January 2021</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="600" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720c539c7e80680e0b7862jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bhrikuti Rai</figcaption></figure>Bhrikuti Rai’s story, ‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/#gohere" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/%23gohere&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1e4PAIVaCGboRIZClY_mia">Drawing a line in the sand’</a>, was published in Nepali Times last year and used the first anniversary of the murder by the sand mafia of activist Dilip Mahato to show how illegal sand-mining continued unabated and his family still sought justice for the crime. Winners in other categories include Corinne Redfern and Ali Ahsan for their joint Italy-Bangladesh investigation of sex trafficking, an expose of how the caste system persists in India’s prison system by <a href="https://fjawards.com/finalists/105-sukanya-shantha/article" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://fjawards.com/finalists/105-sukanya-shantha/article&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2ZzMxaVzjqIV6Q4IRo3MeI">Sukanya Shantha </a>of The Wire website, and an <a href="https://fjawards.com/finalists/78-audrey-travere-phineas-rueckert-paloma-dupont-de-dinechin/article" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://fjawards.com/finalists/78-audrey-travere-phineas-rueckert-paloma-dupont-de-dinechin/article&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1646323804757000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0NEVr-IpgY03bmbJL7Ln_2">international investigation </a>of the Asian connection of the Mexican drug cartels.Finance Uncovered is an international investigative journalism training organisation that aims to improve the quantity and quality of investigative stories that are rooted in illicit finance or exploitation. The Fetisov Journalism Award was founded by Gleb Fetisov, a businessman, producer, scientist and philanthropist.

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Nepalis win two investigative journalism awards

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdd89c7e80680e0a0c08jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Scars of injuries sustained by Shyam in his scalp when his Nepali employer in a restaurant in Luxembourg allegedly beat him with a tandoor skewer, ladles and other objects.</figcaption></figure>The Nepali restaurant is located in the richest country of the European Union, and its Facebook page is full of recommendations from guests lavishing effusive praise on its cuisine and service. The page also contains a post from its owner saying that the restaurant's chefs and staff prepare all meals with great care so that guests leave with satisfaction and good memories. What the Facebook page does not say is that the chef and staff had been made to work more than 18 hours a day as virtual slaves with their bank accounts, and in some cases passports, in the hands of an abusive owner. Luxembourg is Europe’s smallest country, and has the world’s highest GDP per capita. It is one of the founding members of the European Union, is one of its four capitals, and is also the seat of the Court of Justice of the European Union. Some of the restaurant’s regular customers could have been rich Europeans and those who worked on human rights. However, they were oblivious to the mistreatment and abuse of the restaurant’s Nepali staff by its Nepali owner. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration/">Two decades of debate on female migration</a>, Upasana Khadka “I arrived in Luxembourg in October 2015 with a work permit sent to me by the owner of the restaurant,” says Shyam from Baglung, who paid for his own air ticket. “I wanted to live a decent life and save enough to provide for my family. But what a disappointment it has been.” In a series of phone calls from Luxembourg, Shyam spoke of chronic beatings, abuse, withholding of salary, and substandard living conditions. Unable to bear it any longer he and some other co-workers lodged a complaint with the Luxembourg police in July.  The case will now be further investigated by the Police Judiciaire, and based on its verdict the prosecutor's office will decide whether there is enough evidence of human trafficking to file charges. After several attempts to contact the restaurant owner, he finally responded via an email from his lawyer denying all accusations. He says he had neither mentally nor physically abused his staff, or forced them to work for free for 16 months or work extra hours.  ‘All the claims made by my ex-employees are false. They might have received a better offer from competing business and hence they fled from the restaurant housing overnight leaving a resignation letter in my mailbox,’ he states in the email. ‘This is nothing but a stunt to defame my image and damage the reputation of my very well-established business.’  Luxembourg law does not permit naming of the restaurant and the owner, unless convicted, but Shyam’s story has been corroborated by two of his colleagues as well with depositions he made with the local Nepali community and the police.   When he arrived Shyam was given space above the restaurant to share with two other co-workers. The toilets were rudimentary, and they were allowed to take a bath only once a week and that too, very grudgingly.  The restaurant’s cook, Binod, left soon after Shyam arrived because he could not tolerate the injustice of the owner, who happened to be his relative. Nepali Times tracked down Binod in Chitwan this week, and he confirmed that the owner was physically abusive and exploited his employees from Nepal. Binod is an experienced chef, having worked for 12 years in India and seven years in Qatar before spending €3,000 of his own savings to go to Luxembourg to work for his relative, who sent him a work permit.   <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/caught-in-the-middle/migration-agency-exploitation,4003">Caught in the middle by middlemen</a>, Upasana Khadka He also agreed to work for 12 months without pay in lieu of his work permit. He was hired as a chef, but was asked to also do all the shopping, carrying heavy goods into the store, cleaning and other chores. He had been promised a four-hour working day, but ended up doing 18-hours a day.  Binod’s passport was taken away from him, and his phone calls were monitored. After he found the abuse intolerable, Binod asked his relative for his passport and money, but he lost his temper and beat him with anything he could lay his hands on. His employer opened a bank account in Binod’s name and would deposit about €2,000 every month. But the restaurant owner kept all the passwords himself and Binod could not have access to his account. The owner then withdrew most of the salary he had deposited, and gave only €500 to him. At first, Binod says he did not complain because he thought that was the way things were done in Luxembourg. Binod’s unwritten agreement with his relative was that he would work for free for one year to repay him for the work permit. But he ended up working at the restaurant for no salary, no leave and no weekends for most of the 3.5 years. “When I did not do as asked, he hit me with a metal tandoor skewer or a ladle,” Binod recalls. “There were many nights when I could not sleep because of the pain from the beatings, and the pillow would be soaked with blood from wounds in my ears.”  Binod would plead with the employer to take him to hospital to get stitches, but was not allowed. After nearly four years of this, Binod’s father died and he asked his employer for leave. When the owner refused, Binod got relatives back home to buy a one-way ticket back to Nepal and never went back to Luxembourg.  Both Binod and Shyam thought the prospect of a job in Europe would change their lives, and trusted a fellow-Nepali employer. But while Binod returned to Nepal because he could not bear the mistreatment, and did not want to turn against his relative, Shyam lodged the complaint with the authorities.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-and-malaysia-rewrite-rules-for-migrant-labour/">Nepal and Malaysia rewrite rules for migrant labour</a>, Kunda Dixit Binod and Shyam talked to us separately, and one did not know the other was in touch with Nepali Times. But the pattern of abuse and the method of exploitation they described unprompted were identical in both cases.  In July, three of the Nepali workers complained to the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRN) Luxembourg, and a section of the interaction was recorded by someone there. Shyam also said he had to work 16 hours a day without holidays, not allowed breaks or to meet with other Nepalis “I was imprisoned for seven years,” he said in the audio clip. Like Binod, Shyam’s verbal deal with the employer was that he would work without pay for the first 16 months to compensate him for arranging the work permit. But because that is not allowed under Luxembourg law, the employer would deposit €1,600 every month in his account, and he would withdraw the amount every month and hand it to the owner. He was sometimes allowed to keep €150 for himself as an allowance. For the first six months he was treated well by his employers, and he did not complain about the bad accommodation and poor food as the other employees were in the same predicament. But after that he started facing physical violence – being hit by skewers and boxed in the ears, like Binod. After 16 months, the owner made him sign an official contract as required by law. But even after that, he kept most of Shyam’s salary himself. In addition, the owner only gave the workers left-overs, vegetables and a thin gruel to eat.  “Sometimes we used scrap bones to make soup, and he would beat us up calling us thieves,” Shyam said on the phone. “At other times he would summon us in the middle of the night to massage his legs.”  Shyam says he tolerated the beatings and abuse because he did not want to lose face back home, and wanted to protect his mother from social stigma. He sold his land in Nepal, and brought his wife and two children over to Europe as well, and for this he needed his employer’s help. When he visited Nepal for the first time since leaving for Luxembourg, family members asked him about the scars on his face. He told them it was work related. Finally, unable to bear the abuse any longer, Shyam and three other staff – one of them another relative of the owner – decided to tell their story to the NRN. In the audio recording of their deposition, the relative of the owner is heard saying that although he and his wife were also mistreated, he could not come out openly to lodge a complaint because of his family ties to him.  Another staff member is overheard in the clip saying he was forbidden even to drink water or take a toilet break while in the kitchen. Shyam explained that after meeting the Nepali community, the three of them got the courage to file a complaint with the Commissariat Luxembourg on 25 July 2021. The NRN Chair in Luxembourg Hari Khatri and his family own a restaurant and grocery. He was shocked by the revelations of the four Nepali restaurant workers.  <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/women-migrant-workers-are-doubly-vulnerable">Women workers are doubly vulnerable</a>, Rojita Adhikari “In my 23 years living here, this has never happened before in the Luxembourg Nepali community. We all lived together as one family,” Khatri said on the phone. “The case is now with the police, they will investigate and we will soon know the facts. I will try to help the staff as much as I can.” There are about 450 Nepali residents in Luxembourg and some 120 households. Many of them have come as cooks to work in Nepali restaurants, and earn enough in about six months to bring their families over. Luxembourg law allows restaurant owners to import cooks if a citizen who qualifies for the job cannot be found.  That is how Khatri himself brought his brother over in 2006, who is now well settled with his family in his own house. “But I had never heard of any Nepali not paying 16 months salary to a fellow Nepali,” he added. Like other countries in Europe, Nepalis also try to come to Luxembourg on student visas by paying agents in Kathmandu up to Rs1.6 million. He warned Nepali youngsters not to get duped, since the cost of living is very high, and it is difficult to pay living costs and school fees by working. With the pandemic, there are also fewer jobs in the service industry. Most are now working on home delivery and take away.   After the interaction with the NRN, the restaurant owner’s mother and father pleaded with Shyam and his colleagues not to press charges against their son. In an audio recording of a telephone conversation that Nepali Times was provided, they can be heard apologising to Shyam about the way their son treated him.  Shyam then asks them why they did not speak up even though they knew that their son was abusing employees. The restaurant has remained closed since the four employees left and filed the complaint. Many Nepalis in Europe have said in interviews that they are not surprised by this story from Luxembourg. The practice of friends and relatives misusing the work permit in restaurants to engage in human trafficking is said to be rife.  But such is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepalis-lost-jobs-in-past-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">desperation of young Nepalis for jobs</a> that they are willing to risk all for a decent income to support families back home. Many of them tolerate the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-guard-beaten-in-malaysia-goes-viral/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">abuse and exploitation</a>, and are also not aware of their rights in European countries.  Service Info Traite, which supports victims of human trafficking in Luxembourg says that the investigation and judicial process could take up to three years. It says the restaurant owner using a bank account to get around labour laws to exploit his employees is not new.  Says Frank Wies, who is a lawyer with Luxembourg’s Human Rights Commission: “The police, the courts and the prosecution often lack the necessary sensitivity to recognise and treat human trafficking. I have often seen cases where victims are given a settlement and deported back to their countries.” That is not likely to happen with Shyam and his two colleagues who have work permits. But they have gone to the police in one of the world’s richest countries in the hope that justice will be served, and maybe set an example to other Nepali employers in Europe.   Some names have been changed. Luc Caregari of Reporter in Luxembourg collaborated in this investigation. This report is published simultaneously in English in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHtSVNSRWqbuFfj0xvYbhurabXE-A">Nepali Times</a>, in German in <a href="http://reporter.lu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://reporter.lu&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHmoJ1q5lxrWAGKSIqhvoLQ1ds7Yw">reporter.lu</a> and in Nepali by <a href="http://onlinekhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://onlinekhabar.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExFo0zvEqQtb7MfZDSAfMpQv1MvQ">onlinekhabar.com</a>._________________  <h2>Dark shadow of the European dream</h2> During my reporting trip to Europe in 2019, I visited many Nepali restaurants, interviewed their Nepali owners, and met with employees. I also met government officials and visited police departments. In Luxembourg, it was not easy to get information. After the initial chit chat restaurant workers suddenly went quiet when asked about their working conditions and seemed intimidated. Owners liked to highlight how they were helping fellow Nepalis attain their European dream. I soon found out that the reason was that many of them are victims of physical and mental torture, not aware of their labour rights in Europe because of lack of education or being unable to speak the local language. They trusted the employer who was often a relative or friend from back home.  It was in Luxembourg, the country where the Court of Justice of the European Union is situated, that migrant workers were facing some of the worst violations of their human rights at the hands of fellow Nepalis. Outwardly, the restaurants looked spic and span, the guests were all well-groomed, and seemed to be from the higher echelons of society. The Nepalis all said they were happy. But behind this veneer, I had a nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true.  Sure enough, after some digging, I found a similar story to what I had uncovered in Helsinki earlier. Together with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE_Bi1ton1z4xOyqLRgwTTz1UfqsQ">Helsingin Sanomat</a>, we at Nepali Times had covered the story on human trafficking of Nepali workers by a Nepali restaurant owner in 2019, after which the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEsSkybqU-hj0KgZBpma0xalqzAAg">Finnish government took action</a> on the perpetrator.  Like in Finland, some migrants who had entered Luxembourg legally were being abused and denied basic human rights, including the right to decent working hours and salary as per the labour laws of the country, right to safe housing and good food and the right to live with dignity.  The stories of Binod, Shyam, and their colleagues prove that there are Nepalis who themselves rose up the ranks to be restaurant owners who are now preying on vulnerable and desperate people from the home country.  There is no other label for this but human trafficking — anyone who is made to work in a different place than their home country without a fair salary, housing, food and health services are victims of human trafficking, even if they are not subject to physical, verbal, mental and sexual violence.  Shyam and Binod’s Nepali employer has all the legal paperwork for their contract and bank accounts. Still, they were exploited. It is now up to the authorities there to find out how such violations  could occur in a country which has such strict safeguards. <img width="97" height="103" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfddb9c7e80680e0a0c09jpeg.jpg" alt="">Namrata Sharma is former chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal. This article has been developed with the support of the <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="http://www.money-trail.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.money-trail.org&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHi58yJp7lYGXJm-u7RxXB37cRrBw">Money Trail Project</a>, <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="https://www.journalismfund.eu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.journalismfund.eu&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFgo-S83vRTW2_zljHaM5pvCj-uzg">Journalism Fund EU</a>, and <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="http://www.financeuncovered.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.financeuncovered.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5Rn24XIEKJ2NEdArVvblHbVcR1A">Finance Uncovered</a>.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/">In the minds of Nepal’s migrant workers</a>, Upasana Khadka<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/south-asias-migrants-shared-problems-share-solutions/">South Asia’s migrants share problems, share solutions</a>, Upasana Khadka

Nepalis abused by Nepalis in Luxembourg

Sha Bahadur Gurung was 30 years old when he was arrested for participating in a peaceful protest. He died aged 65 last week in Bhutan’s Chamgang Central Prison. He was among 31 prisoners of conscience in Bhutan, many of whom are serving long sentences for opposing the regime’s forcible expulsion of 100,000 of its Lhotsampa people in the early 1990s. ‘Mr Gurung died on 15 December in his prison cell under circumstances that raise serious concerns about custodial negligence and long-term abuse,” said a statement by the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) based in The Hague which demanded an external probe, justice and release of remaining political prisoners. Gurung was from Chirang and was arrested in 1990 while serving in the Royal Bhutan Army, and accused of having sympathies for the Lhotsampa people. He was mostly held at the notorious Rabuna Prison in Wangdi Phodrang District.&nbsp; Gurung’s relatives in the United States said he had endured prolonged physical and psychological abuse during his imprisonment, and repeatedly subjected to torture and inhumane treatment. They believe the decades of ill-treatment had damaged his health, ultimately leading to his death. Earlier this month, Gurung was transferred from Rabuna to Chamgang Central Prison. On 14 December. He had gone to bed after dinner without any visible sign of distress. He was found unconscious in his cell the next morning.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="1103" loading="lazy" alt="Sha Bahadur Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Sha Bahadur Gurung, who died at age 65 in prison in Bhutan after serving 30 years for expressing political opinion.</figcaption> </figure>  He was referred to a hospital in Thimphu, suggesting that he was still alive during transfer to a local health post. But it appears that he had already died before being taken from prison. Gurung’s death occurred two days before Bhutan’s National Day on 17 December, when families, supporters, and human rights advocates worldwide had hoped for the release of political prisoners through a royal amnesty. Instead, the death of one of the longest-serving political prisoners has caused grief and anger in the Bhutanese diaspora.&nbsp; “We strongly condemn the treatment and death of Gurung, a peaceful and justice-loving Bhutanese citizen,” the V statement said. ‘This tragedy raises serious questions about the treatment of political prisoners in Bhutan and stands in stark contrast to the country’s international image under the principles of Gross National Happiness, compassion, and mindfulness.’ Earlier this year, The <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/special-procedures/wg-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention-its-101st-session" target="_blank">United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the Bhutan government was detaining citizens without parole for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/detainees-in-dire-straits-in-bhutan-s-prisons" target="_blank">expressing political opinion</a>. The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in 2023 that there were least 37 <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/13/bhutan-free-long-term-political-prisoners" target="_blank">political prisoners</a> in Bhutan’s jails. Of them, 32 belong to the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa community, which has faced <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2003/06/18/nepal-bhutanese-refugees-rendered-stateless" target="_blank">decades of discrimination and abuse</a> and eviction. Most of them were convicted because of prohibited political activity between 1990 and 2008. One political prisoner, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-country-for-dissent?fbclid=IwAR07lpitMBWAYSkny_3d_smQBlmoxAOQm1OxdNtl-27h8mV0RNO9IxVY2qs" target="_blank">Madhukar Monger</a>, who was released in 2023 after serving 29 years described brutal conditions in <a href="https://www.hrw.org/asia/bhutan" target="_blank">Bhutan</a>'s jails. Political prisoners were not given enough food, and medical care, he said, urging the internaitoonal community to press for the release of prisoners of conscience.&nbsp; In March, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/meenakshi-ganguly" target="_blank">Meenakshi Ganguly</a>, Deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, urged Bhutan’s international partners to call on the Bhutan government to release all remaining political prisoners immediately.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1422" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1420" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

‘Get out of my house.’ ‘All my sickness is because of you.’ ‘You’re a millstone around my neck.’ Arundhati Roy heard these admonitions from her mother over and over throughout her life.&nbsp; This must be a singular, yet universal experience. There must be very few daughters who make it through life unscathed by their mothers. And vice-versa.&nbsp; How many of our mothers look at us and see in us the potential of all of the lives they could have lived? How many resent us for it, or want us to live those lives in their stead? And how many of us look back at our mothers and imagine what they would have achieved had they not been expected and assigned to play the role of wife, daughter-in-law, mother — had we never existed in their lives? How many mothers project their experiences onto their own daughters and continue the cycle? No daughter seems to escape it — no matter how well-behaved, docile, unruly, or rebellious. Certainly not the child who would go on to become a Booker prize-winning author. Arundhati Roy’s memoir Mother Mary Comes To Me chronicles her complex relationship with her mother Mary, or Mrs Roy, as her educator mother had her two children refer to her. In December, Arundhati Roy was in Kathmandu to sign books and briefly interact with readers at two bookshops in the city. She describes a childhood overshadowed by her mother’s volatility towards her and her brother. Mary herself was raised by an abusive father to escape whom she married the first man who proposed — Arundhati’s father who in her mother’s words turned out to be an alcoholic ‘Nothing Man’.&nbsp; Mary left her husband in Assam and eventually wound up with her two children in her town of Aymanam in Kerala, encountering other family members along the way who did not treat her, or her children with respect. The trauma and cruelty her mother endured could not be contained in her body, and spilled out onto her two children, towards whom she was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive.&nbsp; While she treated her children with disregard, she would build a school in the nearby town of Kottayam from the ground up, educate thousands of children, take up a legal fight that led to the Supreme Court granting Syrian Christian women in India equal inheritance rights, and uplift many orphaned children and women in Kerala.&nbsp; Arundhati lived with both her mother’s brutality and brilliance. And like her daughter, readers must reconcile the indefensible parts of Mary Roy’s personality — the cruelty of calling her nine-year-old daughter a bitch, or shooting the family dog that mated with a stray — with her unyielding drive to educate thousands, fight for equal rights, and challenge the way her world viewed women.&nbsp; Mrs Roy had little kindness for her own children, but plenty for the students, children, and women whose lives she shaped, and made better. And her kindness was not rooted in empathy, but in anger at the hand she had been dealt in life. Eventually, Arundhati decided to temporarily cut all contact with Mrs Roy — not because she did not love her, she writes, but so that she could continue to love her. Her desire to get away from her abusive mother, and her fascination with the ideas inspired by the architect who built her mother’s school, would lead her to the Delhi School of Architecture at age 16. In Delhi, Arundhati became roommates with Hisila Yami before she and her Maoist ideologue husband Baburam Bhattarai went underground to lead Nepal’s decade-long armed struggle. &nbsp; But architecture was not her calling. In Delhi, the heart of India’s statecraft, Arundhati came into young adulthood against a backdrop of the country’s changing socio-politics, which began to take a turn for the hyper-nationalist, Hindu supremacist community that it has now largely become. The winds of those changes have now blown into Nepal. In the city, far from her mother, Arundhati met the man who would become her partner of many years, collaborating with him on several films and screenplays before finding the language (‘I needed to hunt [language] down like prey,’ she writes) she needed to become the writer she is now.&nbsp; She went on to write her Booker prize-winning novel The God of Small Things, but the wealth and status the book brought her did not sit comfortably. So she smashed her newly-built gilded cage, as she describes it, and became more political. Contrary to norm, she published several works of non-fiction, and would only publish her second novel, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, in 2017, 20 years after The God of Small Things. &nbsp;&nbsp; Her fierce opposition to India’s nuclear policies, to a dam that would displace millions of indigenous people and ecologically damage the Narmada Valley, her championing of Kashmiri self-determination, and her time spent with Maoist rebels in the forests of Chhattisgarh as they took up arms to defend their land and resources against corporate interests made her an enemy of the state.&nbsp; Meanwhile, being raised by a single mother had never sat well within her Syrian Christian community. ‘I wasn't Christian enough. I wasn't Hindu enough. I wasn't communist enough. I wasn't enough,’ Roy writes in her memoir. For all her love for India, the nation did not seem to reciprocate. The circumstances might be different, but it might strike a chord with readers in Nepal, many of whom marched on the streets in September hoping for a better tomorrow, but were gunned down by the very institutions meant to protect them. It might resonate with those who are not seen as citizens of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood.&nbsp; Arundhati’s relationship with her mother, who was simultaneously proud and disdainful of her daughter’s accomplishments, continued to be tumultuous until the end of Mary Roy’s life.&nbsp; One of Mrs Roy’s last messages to her daughter before she passed was: ‘There is no one in the world whom I have loved more than you.’ Arundhati muses that her lifelong refusal to stop loving her mother must have finally breached her barriers. One wonders if that final declaration of love was solace enough, apology enough, for all the pain caused.&nbsp; But for Arundhati Roy, her love for her mother and her motherland outweighs the cruelty both have shown her. This, too, must be a singular, yet universal experience.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Mother Mary Comes to Me review"> </figure>

The sins of our mothers

Nepal’s Gurkha soldiers have a well-deserved reputation worldwide for uncommon valour and loyalty. However, what happened in Hawaii in 1986 and the long struggle for fair pay and pension shows that the formidable fighters from Nepal also do not tolerate injustice. The Hong Kong-based 1st Battalion of the 7th Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles was in Hawaii for jungle warfare training exercises at the Joint Pacific Multinational Readiness Center when they beat up their commanding officer, Major Corin Pearce. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Gurkhas said Pearce had insulted them, and 111 soldiers were dismissed. Pearce suffered broken ribs and a head injury, and was himself also discharged. The incident got worldwide publicity and enforced the belief that the Nepalis were not treated fairly in the British Army. It also led some retired soldiers to begin a decades-long struggle for compensation at par with their British peers.&nbsp; Retired British Gurkha soldier Shankar Rai in his book Triumph and Tears revisits the Hawaii incident which he witnessed, and also his experience in the Falkland Islands/Malvinas war in 1982.&nbsp; He has lots of grievances: unequal treatment and injustice from the British Army towards himself and his comrades. This is an indignant and disillusioned account of the good, the bad and the ugly of being a British Gurkha, which he says let him down despite his service and belief in it.&nbsp; The book could also be a cautionary tale of how one person on a power-trip can tarnish two centuries of the shared history of Nepal and the UK, as well as ruin the lives of those involved. It also is proof that loyalty should never be taken for granted. Four years after defeating the Argentinians in the Falklands, several companies and platoons of Gurkha rifles were stationed in Hawaii in 1986 for joint US-UK ‘Exercise Union Pacific’ military exercises. The goal was to ‘perfect the art of marine warfare in collaboration with the US Marine Force’. The rules were that a British Gurkha company commander needed to have the rank of major and pass a Nepali language test. Captain Pearce was the son-in-law of a British Brigadier on extra-regiment employment, and this rule was waived. He was appointed Acting Major. Pearce didn’t bother to learn Nepali language or culture, and from Rai’s account took every chance to belittle and embarrass the Gurkhas as poor, stupid, rude, backward, and lucky to be there. He writes: ‘After Captain Pearce reached Hawaii, he began to project himself as a master and the Gurkhas as servants, to show off to the Americans.’ The author also recounts other slights, such as only receiving a fourth of the rations they were due during hard training, being forced to train even when some of the soldiers had high fever, and claims to have ‘civilised’ the Nepalis.&nbsp; Pearce had been to eastern Nepal before the training and seen the grinding poverty. He kept telling the Gurkhas how lucky they were to be in the job, and that they were making ‘more money than Nepal’s prime minister’. During the final farewell party in Hawaii, Pearce set up tables to form a saluting platform, and asked the Gurkha pipe and drum band to march around him while playing. The enraged soldiers could not take it anymore, and after the party an inebriated group ran Captains Pearce and Chandra Kumar Pradhan out of their tents and beat them up. Both officers broke ribs, and the major needed 15 stitches on his head. ‘This sorry and unseemly episode is considered to have been entirely at odds with the Brigade of Gurkhas’ tradition of loyalty and gallant service in the British Army. It is regarded as an isolated and untypical event, which will not be permitted to detract from the high esteem in which the Brigade is held,’ reads the report of an investigation. Most of the 1/7 company soldiers were dismissed whether they had been involved in the assault or not. The author describes the shame that followed, with dismissed soldiers returning to Nepal with lost face.&nbsp; ‘I burned with humiliation, and life scared me,’ writes the author, whose father told him that he was ashamed to call him his son. ‘Many of my friends’ girlfriends left them and married other people. Rifleman Khem Gurung (21162015) of Itahari committed suicide,’ writes Rai, adding that those dismissed were blacklisted, and could not get other jobs.&nbsp; They tried to pursue legal action against the British Government, but backed down when they could not afford expensive hotshot lawyers, and would not have the money to cover the British government’s legal fees in the likely case of a loss in court. Gurkhas who had served for four years in the UK were allowed to move there, an option that many of those dismissed in the Hawaii incident took, including the author, who now lives in Oxford. Rai pours out his hurt and emotion in the book. Towards the end, he writes: ‘I depend on small jobs for livelihood. In the remaining time, I actively raise the issue of the victims of the Hawaii incident. We are burdened with insults, hatred, and contempt for a lifetime. It was harsher than a court martial, too heavy to bear.’ The is a slim book, and is a quick, engaging read of an incident 30 years ago, and Rai writes with a soldier’s precision. Even though the anger shows even after all these years, there is no over-dramatisation in the narrative.&nbsp; The first part of the book is about sailing across the South Atlantic in the QEII, which had been converted into a troop ship to take the Gurkhas to war. The soldiers from landlocked Nepal were mostly sea-sick, but were happy to get two cans of beer a day. Barclays Bank even had a branch on board. Rai’s descriptions of the friendships he developed in the Company and on the battlefield are poignant. They braved Argentinian bombs, dug trenches and fought through the rain in the Southern Hemisphere winter. There are vignettes of sharing tea with fellow Nepalis, seeing comrades fall, and finding pictures of wives and children in the pockets of dead young Argentine soldiers. Behind the prestige, honour and myths of being a Gurkha soldier, it seems this is just another job with nepotism, horrible bosses and bad pay. But such is the desperation that up to 20,000 young Nepalis still apply for 300 openings in the British Army every year. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Triumph and tears book details NT"> </figure>

Not taking loyalty for granted

This is the 77th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I was in Grade 3 when my father left for Saudi Arabia. Letters he sent occasionally contained photos. We had to get used to matching the person in the photos with him when he came home. Over two decades later, I left behind my son a day after he was born to go to Korea.&nbsp; He was five when I returned, and he just could not believe I was the same person he spoke on video calls. To convince him that it was indeed me, I had to call him on video from the other room.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Technology, it turns out, is no replacement to proximity and physical presence.&nbsp; When my father was in Saudi Arabia, my mother died. My father could not return to Nepal immediately, and my grandmother took in my two sisters and me.&nbsp; My studies took a hit. I started working in a shoe shop, and earned Rs2,100 a month. I wanted to start a shoe shop with support from my father when he returned. He did not, and neither did my other relatives. Perhaps they doubted my business sense. Or they had other priorities.&nbsp; Whatever it was, this feeling of not having someone to back me up hit me deeply but give me confidence. Without alternatives, I decided to prepare to migrate to Korea. I studied for the language exam and was among the first cohort under the G2G scheme. When I was finally matched with a Korean employer, I could not be happier.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="823" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Not having received any support from those around me, the Korean offer made me feel like I had won in life. My grandmother was happy because it would increase family income. She had three additional mouths to feed, and we were quickly growing up. She worried about getting my sisters married. My first stint in Korea, however, was not what I expected. I had to change jobs multiple times, either because the company I worked for was unable to pay me, there was no work, or I had an accident. The odds just were not in my favour. The global financial crisis had taken a toll on the economy.&nbsp; Even so, I managed to help pay for my sisters' weddings and had modest savings. But there was not much to show for it compared to my peers. Never again, I thought, as I said goodbye to Korea.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="1279" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I came home and got married. I started a mobile repair shop. But it did not work out well either, and I was soon headed back to Korea despite my misgivings. I left a day after my son was born, and this time I was determined to make it work in Korea. I was placed in a company that made golf balls. It paid well, but the job was just for money, I needed to do something more with my future that would help me stand on my own feet once I was back in Nepal. I was intrigued by the three-in-one instant coffee sachets in Korea that had coffee, milk and sugar. Back home in our village in Kaski, our cooperative grew coffee that either went to waste or fetched very low prices. My sisters and I used to pick the sweet and tasty coffee cherries.&nbsp; I saw a great business prospect in turning the beans into coffee sachets, and started exploring this. That was my mission: to make instant coffee packets widely available in Nepal. It was just a matter of understanding the process so I went to a migrant resource centre in Korea to inquire about where I could learn this.&nbsp; I was advised to take barista classes, and I found out that sachet coffee is actually not healthy and I should instead learn about fresh brewed coffee. That seemed even more exciting. How coffee beans could be ground and sold for over Rs450 in Korean cafes that people waited in line for bemused me. During my free time, I spent all my energy learning about coffee. I took training in barista, coffee sensory, machine repair and roasting. I had to rely on the generosity of Koreans who were willing to take a chance on me as I had different constraints such as lack of network, a busy work schedule at my regular job but even then, people offered to help.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee NT"> </figure>  I was so obsessed that whenever I spent time on leisure activities during days off, I felt guilty. My golf ball job was just for income, I had to invest in my real post-Korea life. Balancing work and learning everything about coffee was not easy. Not only did I pay for some of the lessons, I even skipped overtime hours for them. But this was for my future. I must have consulted over a dozen coffee experts in Korea to share their experience and connect me to people. I could not afford to be shy about asking strangers for help. When the pandemic hit, we were granted a one-year visa extension, and I took it as an opportunity to invest in myself. I had seen great business prospects for coffee machine repair service in Pokhara because people had to rely on Kathmandu. But to learn machine repair and maintenance, I had to spend more time and weekend classes were not going to be sufficient.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1138" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I moved to a training company and worked just enough to maintain my legal status. I did not take overtime shifts. Even my roommates barely saw me because I used to come home long after our duty hours from my coffee training. I also needed actual job experience so I asked my trainer to let me shadow him at work.&nbsp; The on-the-job exposure to repair and maintenance work gave me more confidence and expertise. When I returned to Nepal, I came home with a suitcase full of coffee machine parts. I have started a coffee shop called Jumli, provide machine repair services and have also started growing my own coffee. The idea is to be a one stop shop for all players in the coffee industry, whether it is farmers or coffee shop owners who need Nepal-grown coffee or machine repair services or coffee lovers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086" data-rendition-name="original" width="1321" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  It is not always easy being an entrepreneur in Nepal. Sometimes, when I am on shaky ground, I close my eyes and talk to my mother in my head for clarity. Some of these conversations are replays of the things she told me when I was growing up. I didn’t take them seriously then, but now they offer important nuggets of wisdom about life, society, and how to navigate difficult times. I have a lot of hope for the future. I am now laying the groundwork to one day export Nepal’s specialty coffee to the international market, meeting global standards of quality. Programs like the Returnee Innovators for Nepal (RIN) help in equipping you with the skills to better pitch your business and give exposure and networks. Even now, I rely on my trainer in Korea for guidance or to access spare parts that are not available in Nepal. I have come a long way from the day I cluelessly chose ‘American-O’ coffee because it was the easiest drink to pronounce in the menu. I never thought I would be making a living from coffee back home in Nepal one day.&nbsp;

luxembourg

Nepalis win two investigative journalism awards

Nepalis abused by Nepalis in Luxembourg

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

The sins of our mothers

Not taking loyalty for granted

From ‘American-O’ to Jumli