Over the last two decades, Nepal has made notable progress in maternal and neonatal healthcare. The<a href="https://mohp.gov.np/uploads/Resources/Final%20Report-26%20March-%202023-UPDATED.pdf"> maternal mortality ratio (MMR</a>) has declined from 536 per 100,000 live births in 1996 to 151 by 2021.
Driving this process were the country’s <a href="https://mohp.gov.np/program/safe-motherhood-programme/en">Safe Motherhood policy</a>, an increase in skilled healthcare providers, free delivery services for expectant mothers, incentive schemes for antenatal care, as well as postnatal visits.
Other measures, such as birth preparedness packages along with systematic planning for managing potential complications during childbirth, amplified these achievements.&nbsp;
There has been a remarkable rise in institutional deliveries, an increase in antenatal visits, and an impressive 70% of women receiving postpartum care from healthcare providers within the first two days after giving birth.
Quality improvement initiatives such as the Maternal and Perinatal Death Review, minimum health facility assessment standards, routine clinical monitoring, and supportive onsite supervision visits, have been outlined in policy documents and guidelines to elevate the overall quality of care.&nbsp;
However, it is when analysing province-wise MMR. that we still see significant disparities. Maternal deaths are still high in Lumbini Province (207 per 100,000 live births) and Karnali (172). The MMR in Bagmati Province (98) correlates with better figures for higher education, awareness and access to health service and providers.
In contrast, 83% of women in Karnali face challenges in seeking medical care, primarily due to financial constraints and long distance to healthcare facilities.
Half of the maternal deaths in Nepal are of mothers within the age groups of 15-34. Despite the legal marriage age being 20, child marriage is still widespread and contributes to the highest number of pregnancy-related deaths.&nbsp;
Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/remove-barriers-to-life-saving-drug-to-prevent-maternal-deaths">Remove barriers to life-saving drug to prevent maternal deaths</a>, Marty Logan
The median age of marriage in Nepal is 18.3 years, with the lowest median age in Madhes province at 16.6 years and the highest in Bagmati province at 19.9 years. The Muslim community reports the lowest at 16.5 years, while the Janajati and Brahmin/Chettri communities have generally higher median ages for marriage.
In Madhes and Sudur Paschim Provinces early marriages among girls under 15 contribute to heightened adolescent mortality, mainly due to difficulties accessing timely health facilities. Disparities persist among ethnic groups, particularly among doubly marginalised Madhesi Muslims, who face high mortality rates due to early marriages.
Health facility deliveries have improved from 10% in 2001 to 79% in 2021. But again, progress is uneven and these disparities need to be overcome to<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/more-equal-than-others"> meet the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals</a> (SDGs) target of 90% institutional delivery rate by 2030.
Wealth inequality and provincial variations, especially in Madhes, pose challenges that need nuanced understanding of women’s reluctance to seek health services.&nbsp;
Despite Nepal’s success in maintaining population growth close to replacement levels, the total fertility rate (TFR) is significantly higher among those without formal education. The proportion of postpartum family planning uptake is also lowest in Madhes and Sudur Paschim at only 0.2%.
Breastfeeding is in decline, with less than three out of five mothers following recommended practices. Regional variations highlight the need for targeted interventions, particularly in provinces like Bagmati, where breastfeeding rates are lower among well-educated city dwellers.&nbsp;
Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-has-progress-in-saving-women-s-lives-stalled">Why has progress in saving women’s lives stalled?</a>, Marty Logan
Anemia persists as another risk factor, with Madhes Province again carrying the highest burden.
Comparing Nepal with Bangladesh, India, and Pakistan shows that we are doing better in under-five and infant mortality rates. Nepal’s institutional delivery rate surpasses Bangladesh, but lags slightly behind India.
Even so, alarming disparities persist in neonatal and maternal mortality rates within disadvantaged groups, reflecting inadequate coverage of routine maternal and neonatal health visits and suboptimal care.&nbsp;
This points to both limited access to recommended interventions for disadvantaged women and potential inefficiencies in delivering crucial interventions during routine these visits.
Nepal should prioritise rural pockets of the country and employ a comprehensive strategy that includes delivering antenatal care through primary health care outreach, home visits, distributing essential medicines, vaccinations, and identifying appropriate health facilities for birth preparedness.
Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/what-can-be-more-fulfilling-than-saving-lives">“What can be more fulfilling than saving lives?</a>”, Naresh Newar
The quality of antenatal care must be improved by talking about nutrition with pregnant women and families, emphasising awareness of danger signs that necessitate timely health facility visits, and ensuring local governments can efficiently refer complicated cases, with airlifting as a viable option for emergencies.
Adolescent Sexual Reproductive Health with a targeted focus in provinces with early marriages and childbirths combined with education, awareness, and easy access to reproductive health services are imperative.
More effort is needed to meet the SDG target of reducing the MMR to 70 per 100,000 live births. Mitigating disparities among provinces demands political commitment, active local leadership, community engagement, especially leveraging the youth force, and fostering public-private partnerships at all levels.
Surya Bhatta is Executive Director of One Heart Worldwide that works primarily on maternal health in rural Nepal.

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Saving more mothers and babies

Remove barriers to life-saving drug to prevent maternal deaths

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722f839c7e80680e0c251djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800"/><figcaption>Photo: PRASANSA BUDHA LAMA</figcaption></figure>From 1991 to 2016, the maternal mortality rate in Nepal declined by a staggering 72% -- from 850 deaths per 100,000 live births to 239 in 25 years.This was a dramatic advance, but since then progress has slowed and almost plateaued off, mainly due to high rates of neonatal deaths.And at the current rate, Nepal will have to further bring down this figure by 71% by 2030 to meet its Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) on maternal health. This is a considerable challenge given that Nepal has the highest maternal and neonatal mortality rates in South Asia, behind only Afghanistan.A shortage of skilled birth attendants, weak referral systems and difficulty in accessing treatment for complex pregnancies all point to the government’s chronic neglect of women’s health and the subsequent high mother-baby death rate.It is well established that the six pillars of safe motherhood are family planning, HIV/STD control, antenatal care, obstetric care, postnatal care and abortion care. And these can be strengthened through education, gender equality and access to primary health care. However, the Ministry of Health has overlooked these aspects, and this is undermining past gains.The 2015 Right to Safe Motherhood and Reproductive Health Act guarantees women the right to necessary counseling and maternity services from a midwife. But this does not apply to a majority of women in rural areas due to a lack of trained staff.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/Saving-one-mother-at-a-time,816">Saving one mother at a time</a>, Bikash GauchanThe government needs to produce more than 10,000 midwives with a minimum of a three-year certificate if it is to reduce the maternal mortality rate to 75 for every 100,000 births by 2030, as per the SDGs.Under the previous Millennium Development Goal (MDG), Nepal had committed to reducing maternal mortality by three-quarters by 2015, which included midwifery education and services in the five-year plan. A policy was then formulated in 2006 to produce skilled birth assistants (SBA) with other staff to be given two months of training to develop 27 basic maternity services.The strategy includes basic nursing skills in nursing and medical education such as ANMI certification, BSc Nursing, MBBS and MDGP and aims to produce professional midwives in the long run.At present, Sudeni Maternal and Child Health Workers and Assistant Nurse-Midwife (ANMI) who underwent midwifery training for two months are deployed to communities as maternal health service providers.Since 2006, the program has produced more than 10,000 SBAs and reduced maternal mortality by 15% in the past decade at the cost of Rs1 billion, but we are yet to see the kind of progress we aspired to. The program has significantly increased awareness about maternal healthcare, but has not produced as many professional midwives.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepali-ama/">Nepali Ama</a>, EditorialIn India, ANMI must have passed high school and undergone two years of training. In Nepal, those who have passed grade 8 and trained for 29 months can become ANMI. Therefore, people at the forefront of providing maternal and child healthcare are already lagging in resources, skills and education levels.In urban centres, mothers have the choice of obstetricians and gynecologists, but in villages, their best bet are ANMIs, many of whom have not even completed remote obstetric training. This negligence has cost the lives of many young mothers.Further, women accessing health facilities face humiliation, and even violence, and are stigmatised. The main reason for this is the lack of midwives, and the shortage of such an important position within the National Health Care System.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/another-babys-life-is-saved-in-rural-nepal/">Another baby’s life is saved in rural Nepal</a>, Naresh NewarThere is also a tendency to announce popular programs only to source large budgets from state coffers. The President’s Program for Women’s Upliftment is an initiative to save the lives of mothers at childbirth.Launched in 2018, the program has only spent Rs36.6 million in three years when its budget was Rs50 million a year. In the same period, while it saved 360 women, 789 died without treatment.Expecting women in remote areas are constantly at risk due to the delays: at home while making a decision, on-road in lack of proper transport and at health facilities.Even then we can mitigate the illiteracy, ignorance and financial constraints that cause decision delays at home and on roads with public awareness programs. But the bigger challenge is that of local health facilities take time to transfer women to better-equipped hospitals.According to 2020 Maternal Infant Mortality Monitoring and Response (MPDSR), most maternal deaths were due to preventable causes such as bleeding, high blood pressure, infections and prolonged labour pains. The analysis also showed that 37% of women died on the way from one health facility to another, 30% at home, 23% in private and non-government hospitals and 10% on the way home from health facilities. Most of these deaths were of women under 34.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/balancing-life-and-death-in-nepal/">Balancing life and death in Nepal</a>, Ashmita Hamal and Naresh NewarBy mobilising skilled midwives at local-level health facilities, we can manage many complications and counsel families if a mother needs to be relocated. And one way to achieve that is by providing the ANMIs with a 3-year certificate level midwifery education.Midwives in essence stand for women's rights. They advocate for all women of reproductive age to receive the quality and dignified services they deserve, especially during pregnancy and childbirth.Midwives have proven their effectiveness in countries like Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark and the Netherlands for the past 250 years and have reduced maternal mortality rates to as low as 2 per 100,000 live births.With the maternity knowledge, skill and behaviour they have, only a midwife can determine the true condition of a woman in labour pain when there is no obstetrician and gynecologist present which is often the case across Nepal’s rural villages.If we want to save our mothers, it is of utmost importance that the Nepali state act immediately to produce midwifery practitioners.Laxmi Tamang is the president of the Nepal Midwifery Society.Adapted from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/130974">Nepali original</a> in Himalkhabar monthly magazine by Aria Parasai.Read more: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16327#.Ys5GPOxBzAM">Homeward bound</a>, Sabhyata Timsina

Midwives to the rescue in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722eef9c7e80680e0c24ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="768" height="1024"/><figcaption>Bhavana with her young son. Photo: RITA ALE MAGAR</figcaption></figure>It was a night that Rita Ale Magar says she will never forget. Bhavana, 17, from remote Dumre Dara village walked 2.5 hours to reach a birthing centre of Udaypur.The underage mother was already 16 days overdue, her blood pressure was alarmingly high and she was going through prolonged labour. She was having difficulty pushing out the baby and was in severe pain.This was the most complicated case the centre had received, and the nurses were understandably nervous. But Nurse Rita had to lead the team and take the decision to try to save both the mother and her baby who were at high risk.“This was the moment when I had to use all the knowledge that I was taught by my mentors,” recalls Rita, who is a beneficiary of the Simulation-Based Mentorship Program (SBMP) of the group, One Heart Worldwide.After nearly two hours, the baby was born but that was only the beginning of the ordeal. The baby was not breathing and had no heart rate or muscle tone.“All of us thought the baby was dead, but we had to try our hardest to save him. I had less than a minute to give my best,” adds Rita, still shaken as she narrates her experience.It was at that point she remembered the ‘Golden Minute’ session she had learned about at the mentorship program -- the time needed for newborn resuscitation of babies born with asphyxia and deprived of oxygen.Nurse Rita quickly cut off the umbilical cord, put the baby on the resuscitation table and gave him electric suction which allowed it to start breathing. But the baby still looked pale, and was having difficulty crying.At the same time, the mother’s condition was worsening, she was bleeding profusely. The nurse sought help from a paramedic team to ventilate the baby with an Ambu bag while she tended to the mother.The baby's condition started to improve, but since there was no neonatal intensive care unit at the birthing centre, Rita referred the baby to a hospital in Biratnagar. The baby boy has since recovered and is now healthy.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722ef19c7e80680e0c24ecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="389" height="515"><figcaption>Nurse Rita Ale Magar used the ‘Golden Minute’ to save a newborn who was suffering from severe complications. Photo: ONE HEART WORLDWIDE</figcaption></figure>“I was panicking but I benefited from my mentorship, and I will always be grateful to the clinical team from One Heart Worldwide who had trained me,” she adds.One would think that health professionals would not want to work in villages with minimal resources, but the opposite is true for Rita for whom being stationed in the far-off government birthing centre has been a challenge, but fulfilling when she can save lives like this recent case.Nurse Rita has delivered over 200 babies in the last three years. The birthing centre was initially under-equipped and she was the only Skilled Birth Attendants. This is where the One Heart came in to provide hands-on simulation exercises to nurses to get them ready for real-life birthing complications.Two nurses who received that simulated training were instrumental in saving the underage mother and her baby. They also counseled family members.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/">Who will save Nepal’s poor new mothers?</a> Rojita AdhikariThe patient, Bhavana did not know about the risks associated with pregnancies and was adamant about giving birth at home because she herself was born at home. Additionally, she had not seen anyone going to the birthing centre for delivery.Even after she was long past her due date Baavana was still not convinced about institutional delivery. It was only when she realised she was putting herself and her baby at risk did she relent.“Ultimately, she made the right decision but it was almost too late. Luckily, she survived. Saving her was so rewarding also because this could set an example to other villagers,” adds the nurse.But it is not easy for the villagers to get to the birthing centre due to the rugged terrain which further discourages them from accessing institutional delivery. There is no proper transport or ambulance service either. Most people have to walk over four hours to get to the centre which is especially inconvenient for pregnant women and girls.Says Rita Ale Magar: “But no matter how hard the journey, it is worth the effort because us nurses are here at the birthing centre to help mothers like Bhavana and their newborns.”Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-conceivable-reason-for-unwanted-pregnancies/">No conceivable reason for unwanted pregnancies</a>, Rojita Adhikari

Balancing life and death in Nepal

<figure><img width="1198" height="679" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c059c7e80680e0bd46djpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption> Locals from Budhinanda in Bajura transporting a woman in labour to a hospital in district headquarters. All photos: PRAKASH SINGH</figcaption></figure><img width="1456" height="589" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c079c7e80680e0bd46ejpeg.jpg" alt="">Nothing could be more symbolic of the misplaced priorities of all three tiers of government in Nepal than the sight of women giving birth by the wayside at a time when politicians are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-shortsighted-view-tower-craze/">inaugurating yet another view-tower</a> in a lavish function.As a reporter based in Bajura district in Nepal’s rugged northwestern mountains, I have see many mothers with complicated pregnancies being carried on stretchers to hospitals. Usually, they are women who have been in prolonged and agonising labour. Many do not make it, and die along the way. I was working on a story on maternal mortality when I came across a photograph from four years ago of a woman giving birth along a trail. I tweeted it on 26 March, and the image immediately went viral because it coincided with the inauguration by Pushpa Kamal Dahal of a nine-storey view-tower in Rolpa district.<blockquote>बाटोमा यसरी बच्चा जन्माउछन्, दुर्गमका महिला <a href="https://t.co/sZfmFmzv3F">pic.twitter.com/sZfmFmzv3F</a>— Prakash Singh (@prakashbajura) <a href="https://twitter.com/prakashbajura/status/1507590311073230853?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 26, 2022</a></blockquote> Even though that photograph was from some years ago, the situation with maternal and infant deaths in Bajura has not improved. For Nepal’s netizens, that symbol of neglect was in stark contrast with the view-tower building spree across the country. In fact Bajura has one of the worst socio-economic and health indicators in Nepal. Just in the past three years, eight women with difficult pregnancies have died while being transported to the district’s only hospital in Martadi. These were just ones that were officially recorded, there are surely many more mothers in far-flung villages of this district who did not make it.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/grassroots-democracy-promotes-good-health/">Grassroots democracy promotes good health</a>, Sagar BudathokiThe mother and baby in my photograph that went viral in social media were the lucky ones. The mother’s name was Tara Luhar from Budiganga Municipality, and after running into them on a village trail, I took the photo after taking their consent.   Although heavily pregnant, Tara had been doing all household chores herself, including raising her other children and taking care of the livestock and farm. No female community health volunteer had visited her home and she did not know that she needed pre-natal checkups, and the need to deliver in a health post or hospital. Most women in Bajura’s traditional families are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-curse-of-being-new-mothers/">banished to cowsheds during childbirth</a>. It was only when her labour dragged on for four days that neighbours and relatives decided to carry Tara to the health post in a stretcher. During the journey lasting several hours, the baby came out and into the dusty trail. Tara simply carried her baby, and walked back home.  This week, after the photograph made her famous, I called Tara Luhar. She said the baby was now four years old and they were both were healthy. Her husband, who was working in India, had died at about the time her son was born. As single mother, she now struggles to make ends meet.“Most of our births in Bajura are at home, there are very few institutional deliveries,” explains Bimala Pandey of the Bichchyan Health Post in Bajura. “There are many cases of women giving birth while on their way. We have to refer the complicated cases to Achham.”  Nepal has taken dramatic strides in reducing its maternal mortality ratio (MMR). It has come down from 880 per 100,000 live births in 1980 to less than 200 in 2019. But maternal deaths have gone up again in the past two years because of the drop in institutional <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/birth-and-death-during-a-pandemic/">deliveries during the pandemic.</a> Bajura’s maternal mortality ratio in 2014 was much higher than the national average: 380. The district ranks at the bottom among Nepal’s districts in the Human Development Index (HDI), with just 0.364 against a national average of 0.602 in 2019. The infant mortality ratio has improved, but is still at 27 deaths per 1,000, mainly babies who die within a month of being born.Although the photograph of the mother giving birth by the side of the road sparked outrage on Nepal’s cybersphere, for Bajura it was just another tragic reminder of its poor state of healthcare. Three <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/3-nepali-mothers-still-die-daily-at-childbirth/">mothers die at childbirth every day</a> in Nepal, and in Bajura there is not a month that goes by without news of yet another mother who does not make it while giving birth by the roadside. <figure><img width="1200" height="681" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c0b9c7e80680e0bd46fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bajura's Nitikhola resident Parvati Budha, 23, delivering a baby on the way.</figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/">high cost of ambulance</a> and lack of political connections to get medical evacuation by helicopter under the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-air-ambulance-saves-mothers/">President’s Program for Women’s Upliftment</a>, most families have to physically carry pregnant women with complicated pregnancies. Last month, 23-year-old Parbati Buda of Himal Rural Municpality had her baby while being carried for over six hours to the local health post. Buda was lucky to survive. In the past year two women died while being carried to Achham – the travel by stretcher and jeep took too long, and the family had waited till it was too late to save them.Because local health posts are not properly equipped to deal with births in which a caesaerian section may be required, many families try to take them to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/Saving-one-mother-at-a-time,816">Bayalpata Hosptial in adjoining Achham district</a>, which has a dedicated maternity ward and surgery.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health/">This is how to upgrade Nepal’s rural health</a>, Sewa BhattaraiPrakash Singh is editor in chief of Badimalika Khabar in Bajura.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c0e9c7e80680e0bd470jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="120" height="150">

Born by the roadside in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84729c7e80680e067796jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Rita Khatri, 21, is the only skilled birth attendant in her village of Phediguth of Okhaldhunga district, where she has helped to promote institutional birthing despite the challenges posed by the pandemic. All photos: NARESH NEWAR</figcaption></figure>Unlike many of her nursing colleagues who yearn to go abroad or find a job in a city hospital, Rita Khatri returned to her home village in Okhaldhunga after completing her training as a skilled birth attendant in Kathmandu.It was not easy for the 21-year-old to be taken seriously by her own community in Phediguth village of Champadevi Municpality, she had to earn their trust and respect one safe delivery at a time.But just as families in surrounding villages came to depend on her for vital <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/3-nepali-mothers-still-die-daily-at-childbirth/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">prenatal care and safe deliveries</a>, the Covid-19 pandemic hit. Now, on top of all the other health challenges in rural Nepal, there is the additional danger of being infected with this contagious new strain of the coronavirus that has spread across the country.Because of its remoteness and lack of connectivity, the pandemic has not affected this scenic district of eastern Nepal as seriously as other parts of the country. Still, there are 90 active Covid-19 cases in the district and a dozen people on average test positive every day.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84769c7e80680e067797jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Being a trained midwife, Rita Khatri’s main worry is that restrictions on travel and fears about the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/birth-and-death-during-a-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">virus will affect maternal and neonatal health services</a> as most villagers are afraid to visit her birthing centre for check-ups and deliveries.“I am scared that the pandemic will set back all the work we have done here to reduce home deliveries and to improve maternal and infant survival,” Khatri says. “We had finally managed to convince families to opt for institutional birthing, but that might now change.”Staff at the centre are also worried about their safety, since this <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/this-is-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">second wave is much more deadly</a> than the one in 2020. Last year, Khatri had helped mothers even when most government health posts had shut down in the districts, many staff were afraid to come to work, and if they did were afraid to even touch their patients.But Khatri kept the birthing centre open, and carried out 32 deliveries in 2020, some of them complicated ones where the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/birth-and-death-during-a-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mothers’ life would have been in danger</a> if they had given birth at home.“Closing down would have meant risking the lives of many mothers,” says Khatri, who has been trying to convince as many families as possible who are under her care that it was safe to visit the birthing centre.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESmZURVRyN4It is much more difficult this year to convince both mothers and staff. Still, Khatri says, “I am also apprehensive about being infected, but I am the only SBA around here, and I want to ensure as many <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/infant-deaths-up-during-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">institutional deliveries</a> as possible and save mothers and their babies from risking home births.”Khatri says that for her, nursing is not just a job. It is an occupation through which she wished to serve her community where there is no doctor for miles around. There is a steely determination in her thin voice as she says, “I will keep my doors open no matter how bad the pandemic is, this is what I was trained to do.”The community has a new esteem for Rita Khatri because of the dedication and hard work she displayed last year, and villagers are glad that they have her to go to for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/newborn-deaths-and-a-vision-for-a-post-pandemic-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">safe motherhood</a>.It has not been easy for Khatri to earn this trust. When she first returned home to Okhaldhunga to join Phediguth Health Post, villagers heard that a new ‘doctor’ had arrived. But when they came to visit, they were visibly disappointed that it was just a girl they knew from the village.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b847a9c7e80680e067798jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But within a few months, Khatri proved herself through her profesionalism and ability to handle the most complicated maternity cases at the birthing centre which was upgraded with help from the non-profit, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/what-can-be-more-fulfilling-than-saving-lives/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">One Heart Worldwide</a> (OHW).Not every delivery goes right, there are some which need specialist treatment or caesarian sections, others suffer post-partum haemorrhage and some mothers are already in a critical condition because they are brought to the centre too late. When the mother or child cannot be saved, Khatri has sometimes been slapped, kicked and verbally abused by angry relatives.“I could understand their frustration, but I did not let anything demoralise me,” says Khatri. “I was trying to the best of my ability to save their lives.”Today, everyone respectfully calls Khatri ‘Sister’, and some even call her ‘Doctor’. Many also have apologised for mistreating her in the past, and come bearing gifts to show their gratitude. “I refuse to take them because I am just doing my duty,” Khatri tells us.Champadevi Health Post has upgraded its maternity room, but there are many others across Nepal that are struggling with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">proper buildings, equipment and staff</a>. The biggest challenge is the lack of nurses trained as skilled birth attendants.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b847d9c7e80680e067799jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When Rita Khatri joined the Phediguth Health Post, its birthing centre did not have proper equipment, not even a maternity bed for deliveries. Most deliveries happened late at night without electricity, and mothers were in prolonged labour sometimes lasting 16 hours. Some of Khatri’s patients preferred lying on the floor to give birth because they found the table that served as a maternity bed so uncomfortable.Without electricity, staff had to stumble in the dark during deliveries, and it was difficult to keep the maternity room warm without heaters. Khatri tried unsuccessfully with the local government to get power supply, but it was One Heart Worldwide that installed solar-powered lights. Little by little, the facility was improved to be the clean and bright birth centre it is today.Khatri is modest about her accomplishment: “This is the least I could do for my birthplace, so giving birth is safe."To donate to Phediguth Health Post: Account name: Phediguth Health PostRastriya Banijya Bank, OkhaldhungaAccount number 207000290101

Saving Nepali mothers on Mother’s Day

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221129151140/638619f69c7e80680e0cccd2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"/><figcaption>Photo: MARTY LOGAN</figcaption></figure>It should not be surprising that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-story-of-nepals-first-covid-19-fatality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s first COVID-19 death was a new mother</a>. What was surprising was to hear Prime Minister K P Oli admitting in Parliament on Tuesday that Nepal’s coronavirus deaths represented a failure of his government.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/3rd-month-of-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Three Nepalis have died with coronavirus</a> since the pandemic hit Nepal. But that is the number of mothers who died every day across Nepal at childbirth. Despite dramatic strides in reducing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">maternal mortality</a> rate, 1,200 mothers still die while giving birth every year.Government statistics show that this number has risen dramatically in March and April, as women avoid hospitals because of the COVID-19 scare, as well as because of the lack of transport during the lockdown.The 29-year-old woman from Sindhupalchok, whose name has not been released, died on 16 May of post-partum sepsis and a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapurs-covid-19-heroes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">coronavirus infection</a> 10 days after safely delivering her baby at Teaching Hospital in Kathmandu, then returning home. There were delays in taking her to hospital after complications because the family could not find an ambulance.Even before the COVID-19 crisis, one of the reasons far too many Nepali women still give birth unsafely at home was the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/mothers-in-Nepal-still-dying-at-childbirth,1007" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/mothers-in-Nepal-still-dying-at-childbirth,1007&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1590230096851000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHGPAy4FgQc1EbtnlKIZJMxrFl6XA">high cost of ambulance</a> to take them to health facilities.Nepal has made <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/people-politics-placentas-child-delivery-complications,3922" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">progress in reducing maternal mortality</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/born-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">newborn deaths</a> thanks to the Safe Motherhood program, for which it received global recognition. But that improvement was nowhere enough to conclude that the job was done and the country could rest on its laurels.Figures show that in 1990, 901 women died per 100,000 births. That number was slashed to 239 per 100,000 live births in 2015. Yet the target for 2030 under the global Sustainable Development Goals is less than 70.If the health of pregnant women is still a government priority it has not been obvious during the lockdown. Pregnant women have been too fearful to visit clinics for crucial antenatal checkups, but by now arrangements should have been made for them to do so safely — or alternatives put in place — and those plans communicated to women.Of course, post-partum mothers are not the only Nepalis dying because of the broken health system. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kidney-patients-dying-due-to-covid-19-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Non-communicable diseases </a> NCDs) are now the cause of most deaths in the country, led by heart disease, lung disease and stroke, but an NCD Multisectoral Action Plan spanning 2014-20 has yielded no visible results.The main causes of maternal mortality include post-partum bleeding, unsafe abortions, high blood pressure and post-delivery infection. Abortions aside — because there is still stigma attached to having one and a lack of knowledge about their legality — the other causes are treatable.Some initiatives have been taken. The President’s Women Uplift Program has used helicopters to rescue dozens of pregnant or post-partum mothers in emergency situations and many local governments have started programs to cajole or coerce women to give birth in facilities andto properly care for themselves and their newborns in the crucial days following delivery. But too many health facilities that should be providing services to pregnant women remain <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1590230096851000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEb9E7sQYw1XzmTTnMfGji3UmNybQ">under-staffed, ill-equipped and short of medicines</a>, and there is no visible national action plan, certainly no sense of urgency.Contrast media coverage of deaths of new mothers with those of women and girls practising chhaupadi in far western Nepal. Temporarily exiled from their homes during menstruation or after giving birth, they are at risk of snakebite, asphyxiation in tiny, windowless huts, and rape and physical assault. While outlawed, the practice continues.In recent years chhaupadi has been reported widely in Nepal and garnered numerous headlines in major global media. Yet, while roughly 15 women have died in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tipping-point-on-menstrual-banishment-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">chhaupadi</a> in Nepal since 2010, there have been 15,000 women who died in that time from causes associated with giving birth. For much of the media, death during pregnancy has become too routine to deserve coverage.The prime minister was right to admit failure over the COVID-19 deaths to date: his government <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/has-nepals-lockdown-just-postponed-covid-19/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">has had ample time to craft a much more effective response, and has not</a>  The deficits in the health system overall have been evident, and discussed, throughout the decades that the prime minister and his colleagues in all parties have been in power. That deserves an admission of failure, followed by corrective action.

3 Nepali mothers still die daily at childbirth

Architecture can be a powerful agent of change, shaping not just spaces but the way people live, connect, and experience the world.&nbsp; For Nepal, which is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">gifted by nature</a> and rich in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/ambassador-fund-cultural-preservation-nepal,2092">cultural heritage</a>, &nbsp;reviving rural architecture with modern amenities could hold the key to more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-sustainable-tourism-means-in-practice">sustainable tourism </a>that benefits local people more. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/bayalpata-hospital-in-nepal-wins-global-design-award">Design and architecture</a> are amazing tools to create a unique experience for visitors,” says Spanish architect Tomeu Esteva of Esteva i Esteva Architecture Studio. “Difficult destinations have beautiful hotels with design and comfort.” Esteva was in Kathmandu with his colleagues at an event organised by the Spanish Honorary Consulate at Dwarika’s Hotel last week to showcase buildings which Nepali architects can adapt with local material and design inputs.&nbsp; Rural architecture holds a unique significance: it is more than a shelter and must reflect <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/inking-an-idenity">local identity, culture</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-humla-from-heritage-loss">heritage</a>. An area’s natural and cultural harmony can be upset by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-protected-areas-from-infrastructure?fbclid=IwAR1wK0MDFlFST_2EYb3f54LS4-fPt6rYfLG1DJ1JaQsU3w8-ezyXIxGOqzk">poorly planned development</a>, speakers at the event said, but the environment can be improved and revitalised by well-integrated structures.&nbsp; Another Spanish architect, Belen Moneo, has designed hotels at elevations of 3,700m in her home country Spain that supply natural spring water spas. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/lost-in-reconstruction">Creativity in construction</a> must be encouraged. Rural architecture always shows possibilities of what we can do better,” Moneo explains, adding that designs must enhance <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-healing-power-of-nature">the beauty of nature</a> and give a natural feel at a time when steel, glass and cement dominate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake">urban design</a>.&nbsp; This is why the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/weaving-nature-into-craft">use of natural products</a> such as bamboo, local timber, straw and rammed earth are in demand from customers who want a fresh eco-friendly look encouraged in construction of rural architectural structures. The demand for boutique hotels has increased world over, with &nbsp;more and more tourists favouring aesthetics, experience and comfort over price. While creativity is an important part of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/architecture-for-mountains">construction and architecture</a>, incentives to build and use <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Building,370">rural construction materials</a> still remain minimal, and Moneo emphasises the significance of design and execution.&nbsp; Esteva helped design the Vana Retreat in Dehradun that kept the natural environment in focus, with the structure giving an elaborate aesthetic experience to visitors. Another example is Hotel Las Mercedes in the Dominican Republic which was designed and constructed by Moneo and the company she co-founded Moneo Brock, respecting and revaluing the traditional architecture of the area. Hotels providing such experience could attract tourists and revenue. The Spanish ambassador to Nepal Juan Antonio March Pujol said, “The role of architecture and architects in developing tourism is crucial, not only in urban areas but rural settings as well.”&nbsp; The concept of rural boutique hotels gained traction in Spain during the 1990s, particularly in regions like Majorca with economic and environmental sustainability as the main focus. In Nepal <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/guiding-nepal-s-tourism-industry">the tourism industry</a> directly employs about 1 million people, and makes up about 8% of the country’s GDP. In Nepal, the stone homes of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviving-himalayan-vulture-and-culture">Mustang and Manang</a>, bamboo and mud structures of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tarai-s-shrinking-forests">the Tarai</a>, and the Kathmandu Valley’s terra cotta tile skylines, graceful temples, and tranquil bahal courtyards are all examples of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs">Nepal’s traditional architecture</a>.&nbsp; Nepali architect Sarosh Pradhan has been working for the past eight years on the Brakka Village project in Manang Valley north of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna">the Annapurnas</a>. Other examples of this kind of rural architecture for high-end tourism are the Shinta Mani Hotel in Mustang and Khumbu Lodge below <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a>. Says Pradhan, “There are places in Nepal that radiate purity and embrace simplicity. Creating projects in such settings require deep reflection and thoughtful planning.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421030444_a07a23f6b60fa89c0f35b9dc1aaf19937da4881e6bfb2e1858f3c27dff91729f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250421030444_a07a23f6b60fa89c0f35b9dc1aaf19937da4881e6bfb2e1858f3c27dff91729f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="2184" loading="lazy" alt="A new architecture for Nepal's tourism"> </figure>  Rural architecture is not easy, and sometimes more expensive. Inflation, energy efficiency, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-who-stay">the climate crisis</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">increased costs of living</a> pose obstacles to sustainable rural architecture. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/forgotten-international-starchitects-in-nepal">Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal</a>, Anne Feenstra and Varun S Bapu Esteva says faith and trust between client and architect is necessary for any project to be successful. He adds that architects must practice being humble, the process of designing always involves learning and not imposing their ideas on clients. Nepal is uniquely positioned for the growth of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hiking-up-the-benefits-of-tourism">rural tourism</a> because of its stunning countryside as well as its internationally renowned traditions in holistic wellness. Creating infrastructure that is small, thoughtfully planned and that respects both tradition and contemporary hospitality standards is crucial. “Projects in Nepal can be made cost effective by using materials from houses that have been brought down,” says Esteva. “Pilot projects involving <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/local-government-by-the-people-for-the-people-of-the-people">local people </a>and simple designing also helps the process.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/vacant-homes-become-homestays-in-nepal">The growth of homestays in Nepal</a> is a step in the right direction, but they are still a bit too rustic for the international traveller who also wants comfort and is willing to pay extra for it. Upgrading the facilities in homestays and ensuring that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-archive-of-nepali-heritage">architectural heritage</a> of the locality is preserved using locally sourced building material could allow owners to charge more. Says Sangita Shrestha of Dwarika’s Hotel, “Our effort is to build upon rural architecture by empowering local communities and using what is available locally. We can fine tune and encourage indigenous design and training.” The vision goes beyond just boosting the economy, it is about building a future where tourism helps villages grow in a healthy and lasting way. Instead of using up resources, it gives back to the land and the people. It supports local communities by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/staying-in-nepal-to-create-jobs"> creating jobs</a>, improving infrastructure, and protecting natural beauty. When done right, tourism can be a tool for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/progress-and-or-preservation">preserving culture and nature</a>, not harming them. Architects must therefore see their work as more than just designing buildings, they also need to care deeply about people and places, especially in rural areas that can benefit the most.&nbsp; With global interest in sustainable and off-the-beaten-path travel increasing, Nepal stands at the cusp of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/missing-out-on-nepal-s-tourism-potential">tourism transformation</a> that values community-driven, eco-conscious hospitality. A mix of modern ideas and traditional knowledge could transform rural tourism in Nepal. Says Shrestha, “Young architects should spend time with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local and indigenous communities</a>, listen to their stories, and learn from their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/life-and-livelihood-in-remote-nepal">ways of living</a>. These communities have deep knowledge about the land, materials, and climate. If this wisdom is used in new designs, it can help create tourism spaces that truly benefit everyone.” &nbsp;

A new architecture for Nepal's tourism

Extract from an addendum to Nepal's Two Wars, Chapter 2 in the updated edition of Essays on Nepal: Past and Present by Sam Cowan, a retired British Army general with a long association with the Gurkhas. The book was first published in 2018, and republished earlier this month by FinePrint exclusively on Amazon. The addendum details a one-to-one conversation the author had in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8884">Royal Palace </a>with the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">King Gyanendra</a> in November 2002 just after he had taken his initial steps on the road that ultimately led to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14681">the abolition of the monarchy</a> in Nepal in 2008. In the early evening of September 16, 2002, in my role as Colonel Commandant of the Brigade of Gurkhas, I had my second and last official audience with King Gyanendra to give him an update on the Brigade’s activities over the previous 12 months. I had some 6 or 7 such audiences with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra</a>.&nbsp; These were official affairs with the British ambassador of the day present, along with key <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12233">palace officials</a> and a representative from Nepal's Foreign Ministry. The two monarchs were very different in character and temperament, but both treated me with the utmost civility and made the audiences as relaxed and easy for me as possible.&nbsp; It is, however, worth recording that when the official business had been covered, King Birendra, with a twinkle in his eye, often ended by asking, “Now General, what’s the gossip in London?” The second audience with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8026">King Gyanendra </a>was my last official act in uniform. We came back to Kathmandu in the first week of November (after treks) to stay for a few nights with our Defence Attaché before heading back to the UK. Waiting for me was a message from the Palace saying that King Gyanendra would like to meet me informally: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6933">no uniform</a> and no ambassador.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080420_f9046f9882d4481781d14f2b64f18c7fbbea62562e1d74e3465de6d01fb43750.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250421080420_f9046f9882d4481781d14f2b64f18c7fbbea62562e1d74e3465de6d01fb43750" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2406" loading="lazy" alt="Gyanendra crowned page 1"> <figcaption>Nepali Times Special Edition of 6-14 June 2001 with enthronement of Gyanendra. </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_21333d6ae21828eb47fe3f849438d215fe2804460d47bb2896ef4aee4e895ad2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250421080424_21333d6ae21828eb47fe3f849438d215fe2804460d47bb2896ef4aee4e895ad2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1857" loading="lazy" alt="Royal massacre"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 22-29 June 2001 covering the royal massacre after which Gyanendra became king. </figcaption> </figure>  Although I had no idea what the purpose of the meeting might be, events in Kathmandu since I last saw the king put me on edge. On October 4, 2002, Gyanendra had dismissed Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, allegedly for failing to hold <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-goes-on-in-nepal-s-elections">elections</a>. He had put in place a new prime minister and a cabinet personally selected by him. When I heard the news on my travels, the people I met were generally supportive of the king’s actions. There was a general view that something had to be done, the country was going nowhere, and the king deserved his chance, not least to solve<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal"> the Maoist </a>problem. Back in Kathmandu, views were not so sanguine. The chosen prime minister, Lokendra Bahadur Chand, was a relic from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">the Panchayat period</a> whose party had failed to win a single seat in the last elections held in 1999. Some of the chosen cabinet ministers had, to put it mildly, dubious reputations, and others had no record of proven competence in any field. There was a fear that the king’s real motive in dismissing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement">Deuba</a> was to start to reverse the democratic gains made since 1990. I informed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-britain-mark-centenary-of-1923-treaty">the British ambassador</a> about the invitation. He was strongly against accepting it, which was probably the clinching reason for my decision to do the polite thing and accept it. On the evening of November 7, 2002, I presented myself at the royal palace, alone and in civilian attire.&nbsp; As in the past, the Military Secretary, Major General Vivek Shah, met and escorted me into the presence of the monarch. This time, however, he was politely asked to leave the room and shut the door behind him. King Gyanendra greeted me warmly and invited me to sit down.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal"> The ghost of monarchy returns to haunt Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_e382af945d0ad2a04ae41fabe5393f793dd10f54cb1220f111c7c9e7423eb558.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250421080424_e382af945d0ad2a04ae41fabe5393f793dd10f54cb1220f111c7c9e7423eb558" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="993" loading="lazy" alt="Gyanendra coup"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 4-10 February 2005 after king Gyanendra's coup imposed media censorship. anendra became king. </figcaption> </figure>  I had wondered, and to be truthful, had worried, not just about the purpose of the meeting, but about how the conversation might start and develop. I reduced my resolve to two points: be polite but speak candidly. The latter resolve was quickly put to the test with the king’s opening words: “Sam, [in previous meetings it had been ‘General’, you walk the highways and byways of this land more than most, tell me what the common man is thinking?” &nbsp;“Your Majesty, I have no idea what they are thinking, but they are waiting.” “Waiting?” “Yes, Your Majesty, they are waiting to see whether what you did some weeks ago in appointing your own prime minister and cabinet ministers is going to make any difference to their lives or whether it is just going to be more Kathmandu hot air.” “Everything is going to be difficult and is going to take time, a lot of time.” “Your Majesty, time is the one thing you don’t have. You must act quickly and decisively to take advantage of the opportunity you have created. Everyone knows that you have appointed these new ministers. Why don’t you get them in here one by one and tell them that they have three months to deliver a programme in their area of responsibility that is going to make a difference to people’s lives? Most will fail to do so. Sack them! It will be a powerful signal of your strong intent to deliver real change.” I can express the opening of our conversation in this way because just about every word is still etched in my mind. The king’s response to my last quoted words was to challenge me to give an example of something that could be delivered quickly. I can give a verbatim record of what I said in response to this unexpected challenge: “Health posts, Your Majesty, there is no shortage of them throughout the country as building them has been one of the sources of local corruption, but very few have any medicine to issue at present or have skilled people to assess and meet medical needs. Your Majesty, children are dying for lack of a few pills. Given the right priority, over a period, say of six months, every health post could be fully stocked with medicine and manned with trained people. This is something I could help to lead for you as I know it would have strong international backing. At last, people would know that you mean business.” As I warmed to the theme, I could see no sign of the king having any enthusiasm for the idea, and I quickly disengaged as it dawned on me, as it had clearly dawned on the king, that the reason for the deficiencies in health posts was to prevent any Maoist combatant from gaining access to any <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/tech-away/nepal-s-health-tech-industry-is-here-to-stay">medical support</a>, and if this meant people suffering, so be it. The subject of the Maoist insurgency inevitably came up, and I took the opportunity to elaborate on what is written in the final four paragraphs of the article above. I advised King Gyanendra that, self-evidently, since there were three parties in the conflict—him, the Maoists, and the political parties—it was imperative that he form an alliance with one of them, preferably the political parties; otherwise, he would find himself isolated, as the other two parties would inevitably, at some stage, form their own alliance. However, it quickly became apparent that the king’s mind was on a totally different track. On the Maoists, he told me that he had channels open to them, but he was scathing about the political party leaders. He made it clear that they would be waiting for a very long time before he gave any power back to them, and that is a polite way of expressing the actual words he used, but “crawling through the door” is a phrase which has stuck in my mind.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080424_5403455ff6168f0d202a96cb53edea69136d74d59b989cfcc7cc4a1d57672cb5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250421080424_5403455ff6168f0d202a96cb53edea69136d74d59b989cfcc7cc4a1d57672cb5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1317" loading="lazy" alt="fall of monarchy"> <figcaption>Nepali Times 28 April-3 May 2005 with cover image by Ajay Joshi of jubilant protesters after street demonstrations sidelined king Gyanendra, paving the way for a ceasfire and restoration of democracy. </figcaption> </figure>  As the conversation developed, it became ever clearer that King Gyanendra had decided to go in alone, relying on the misleading assurances he was constantly receiving from <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14954">the army</a>, and no doubt his close advisers, that the Maoists could and would be quickly defeated militarily, and taken out of the equation. This would obviate the need for him to do any deal with the political parties.&nbsp; Thus, the way would be clear for him to establish a version of his father’s Panchayat system, under a constitution that would be granted to the people by him, their sovereign, as his father and brother had done in 1962 and 1990. As in those constitutions, ultimate power would have remained in the sovereign’s hands. This proposed direction of travel was very clear from what the king said to me. In sum, King Gyanendra was motivated by a desire to emulate his immediate predecessors by granting his people a constitution that would restore his father’s Panchayat system in a modern form and give him a central role in decision-making. What was particularly dispiriting was that beyond this single objective he had no plan worthy of the name, nor demonstrably did he have the people with the skills to implement an appropriate plan even if one had existed. Crucially and depressingly, there was little or no indication from the king that he realised that such a course of action could put Nepal’s monarchy into serious jeopardy, as indeed proved to be the case. <h2>King Twice</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250420110436_315d519fe3d68d2406ebe1480fed54720fbf21b8907a4da5cde751fdc623d445.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250420110436_315d519fe3d68d2406ebe1480fed54720fbf21b8907a4da5cde751fdc623d445" data-rendition-name="original" width="1302" height="632" loading="lazy" alt="“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”"> </figure>  <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah has been king twice</a>. In 1950 he was enthroned briefly as a child king (left, above) by the Rana Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher when his grandfather, King Tribhuvan, fled to exile in India. In 2001 he was crowned king again after the massacre in the royal palace in which his brother King Birendra and nine other members of his family were killed by Crown Prince Dipendra.&nbsp; During his second reign, Gyanendra gradually asserted power by sacking Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba in 2002, and then taking full control after the 1 February 2005 coup. He was sidelined after the ceasefire in April 2006, and became a commoner after the Constituent Assembly finally <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Ftnp-abolishing,624">abolished the monarchy in 2008</a>. In the past year, Gyanendra has tried to exploit public dissatisfaction with the political parties to restore the monarchy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250421080432_26ef4a4b0e3cee9fdc6794446702efe16550d293904b4f6dd46fe35d4d10c788.jpg" data-media-id="editor_22" data-image-id="20250421080432_26ef4a4b0e3cee9fdc6794446702efe16550d293904b4f6dd46fe35d4d10c788" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Essays on Nepal by Sam Cowen"> </figure>

“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”

He had just sat down for lunch after tending the garden at his house in Lagan Tole on 25 April 2015 when the ground began to shake violently. &nbsp; Gautam Nepal, 56 at the time, realised it was an earthquake. He panicked at the thought of his neighbours' multi-storied buildings toppling on top of his modest one-storey house. He rushed out as the high-rises swayed and groaned. “We were used to earthquakes, moderate ones are a regular occurrence in Kathmandu, but I had never felt fear like I felt on that day,” recalls Gautam. “My house proved strong, it did not collapse.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_82a74881218223df70e30eb1759cd3a7c9edbb7728acef83c3f8b397d6e6dfe9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250419040440_82a74881218223df70e30eb1759cd3a7c9edbb7728acef83c3f8b397d6e6dfe9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1737" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>LAGAN TOLE'S TOLL: Lagan Tole photographed by tour guide Neil S Rawlins during his travel to Kathmandu in February 1970.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040448_90914720a75b7d31a12bc27f0c0af9484a5e5efc7dd797dc6bcd190fc28ecdcb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250419040448_90914720a75b7d31a12bc27f0c0af9484a5e5efc7dd797dc6bcd190fc28ecdcb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan Tole photographed by Neils Gutschow in 1992.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_9a4dd35b070949949bfe275eff8216dd29f88f74a30b063dc614845226f68f03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250419040440_9a4dd35b070949949bfe275eff8216dd29f88f74a30b063dc614845226f68f03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan Tole in 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Other residents of Lagan who also live in traditional low rise houses had the same fear. Tara Nepali, then 48, was doing the washing that Saturday.&nbsp; She recalls, “When my house began to shake, I could only think about the bigger buildings falling on top of me. I was sure my house would collapse, but to my surprise, it survived, and so did we.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_2b4b1ec427d9aec5980021b97b25ca3164d5f79337f113ba02b1d802f71b7cad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250419040440_2b4b1ec427d9aec5980021b97b25ca3164d5f79337f113ba02b1d802f71b7cad" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Gautam Nepali in front of his one-storey Lagan home, where he had been having lunch just before the earthquake struck 10 years ago.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040436_6f8a7057bbd269214712076e13117b665165e03a0351db0e3666aee05e91f63c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250419040436_6f8a7057bbd269214712076e13117b665165e03a0351db0e3666aee05e91f63c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Tara Nepali in front of her house in Lagan. She was doing the washing during the earthquake in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  But Buddha Khadgi, 68, was not so lucky. His was one of the few houses in the neighbourhood to be reduced to rubble. His lifelong collection of photographic prints were buried, and so were the traditional Newari musical instruments passed down through generations of his family that he used to give music lessons.&nbsp; “I lost the things that connected me to my roots and my heritage. That was infinitely more heartbreaking than the fact that my house was gone,” says Khadgi, now living in a new cement structure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040436_58f4a8ee4eb740536c69096a4d8c0cd2007fdbcc4ef56551ff460d2ef0ef6f2b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250419040436_58f4a8ee4eb740536c69096a4d8c0cd2007fdbcc4ef56551ff460d2ef0ef6f2b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2496" height="1671" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan's Maka Galli some decades ago. Photo: SHREE RAM NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_6b2bacaf0a1e93b441aff8093b343836d6de0b44d7b29f9b758209845f675bff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250419040440_6b2bacaf0a1e93b441aff8093b343836d6de0b44d7b29f9b758209845f675bff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan's Maka Galli in 2025. The neighbourhood's old Newari houses have been replaced by concrete structures, although the falcha has been rebuilt in traditional style.</figcaption> </figure>  Lagan Tole in Kathmandu's historic heart emerged relatively unscathed from the earthquake in large part because, like in nearby Asan, the buildings are densely packed and lean on each other. But in the years after the earthquake, urban pressure and fear of future quakes have made families tear down their traditional houses with sloping tile roofs and replace them with concrete structures.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_25983e79dc88388cb370b16f7f631e4c276cfc997ffa1f9ce3701e40c876b355.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250419040440_25983e79dc88388cb370b16f7f631e4c276cfc997ffa1f9ce3701e40c876b355" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Glimpses of present-day Lagan.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_9a6a88df8815352a452895c43840a898d4b6c080b79562383306c0cfe8bcd952.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250419040440_9a6a88df8815352a452895c43840a898d4b6c080b79562383306c0cfe8bcd952" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_a348b974bd3a5e76d0bf9b309f98813556d43dd6c361856c67e79c03d4283e69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250419040440_a348b974bd3a5e76d0bf9b309f98813556d43dd6c361856c67e79c03d4283e69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> </figure>  Lagan’s longtime residents, especially the elderly whose families have lived here for generations, say that the neighbourhood with its characterless new tall cement boxes is no longer familiar to them. “We used to say that our houses are not supposed to be taller than temples, the houses of our gods,” says Gautam. “Now, the houses here dwarf the temples and even the chariot of Seto Machindranath.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_88d18ce580abaf9e62fd807403f2e3c9a5bd8972d3b32bdacb97d8991c7fec35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250419040440_88d18ce580abaf9e62fd807403f2e3c9a5bd8972d3b32bdacb97d8991c7fec35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1041" height="1441" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>The Seto Machindranath procession at Lagan on 10 April 1998, during which the chariot caught fire. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_c403f91f9a48c14eaaeed2d38a2cb97714416765730b6d12f29487f9b0f47e83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250419040440_c403f91f9a48c14eaaeed2d38a2cb97714416765730b6d12f29487f9b0f47e83" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>The Seto Machindranath procession at Lagan earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;The old baha courtyards, falcha resting places, and open spaces where Lagan’s residents used to grow vegetables and gather as a community are nearly all gone. And the taller the houses get, residents say they feel less anchored to the soil. Lagan has also lost its soul -- the community spirit is eroding as elderly neighbours rarely venture down to meet each other in the evenings. &nbsp; “This no longer feels like the tole I grew up in,” says a resident. “We are beginning to lose the relationships we had with each other as a community, and with it, the spirit of Lagan.”&nbsp;

Loss of soul and soil

“It's Kathmandu.” Just as the family was sitting down for one of its extended lunches, that jubilant cry was from François Driard’s grandfather announcing the next posting for his diplomat parents.&nbsp; Driard (pictured) was 18 in the summer of 1996,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/chasing-a-nomad"> a bit of a hippie</a> already, and his life was about to change forever with the magical word “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu">Kathmandu</a>”. “I was awed with that information from my grandfather, nothing else mattered … In France <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tales-of-courage-and-suffering-cx95f89e">in the 1990s</a>, Kathmandu had a mythical aura,” Driard recalls. He came to Kathmandu for Christmas that year to visit his stepfather, the French Ambassador Michel Lummaux. It was to be the first of many visits during school holidays, before he decided to permanently settle down in Nepal. “Kathmandu, and Nepal, were very different then, it was magical, I liked the nature, the people, civilisation, temples, trees,” says Driard, who explored the country sitting on the top of buses. “Visitors talk about the crazy <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">urbanisation</a>, traffic jams today, and all that is true. But Kathmandu has not <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/loss-of-soul-and-soil">lost its soul</a>.” After his stepfather’s tenure in Nepal ended, Driard worked as a business reporter for international publications but decided he did not want to be anyone’s employee anymore. In 2007 he landed in Kathmandu with €20,000 in savings to invest.&nbsp; He knew a few crucial things about himself: he liked food and nature, which is very much tied up with his upbringing--full of lively conversations during lunch and dinner at the family table between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-yak-cheese-is-on-world-map">abundant cheese, wine and cigars</a>. So he decided it would be cheese, and registered Himalayan French Cheese and went to the French Alps for a month to learn how to make Tomme de Savoie. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-story-of-langtang-cheese">Cheese making is such an ancient craft </a>and so I thought I won’t need much money or studying which I hated and indeed, if you have a tamako bhado and fire you are set,” explains Driard. But Nepal’s temperature and humidity were not ideal, even at higher altitudes. The first customers for his cheese were the Hyatt Regency and Nina and Hager. But he needed to create a market for cheese in a country which only knew hard churpi in the north and soft paneer in the south. He started selling his cheeses at the Summit Hotel weekend market, expanding to his own 1905 Farmer’s Market which later moved to Le Sherpa in Maharajganj, where it is now, and also a market at Labim Mall in Pulchok. He had cow dairies in Nuwakot and Dhulikhel, and finally a yak cheese unit at 3,379m in Ramechhap. It was the yak blue cheese from here that went on to win a Gold Medal in France, putting Nepal’s French cheese on the world map. “People come and try our cheese at the market, they ask questions. There is a lot of education to be done about cheese,” adds Driard, who also has three cheese shops in the Valley. Driard now makes 25 types of cheese. The products are being noticed and every year he has French students coming to Nepal to learn the art of yak cheese making. “In France, one family or company makes one kind of cheese for generations. In that I’m very unique as a cheese artisan,” he says. “The students come in to learn but I tell them to also teach us something too, add another cheese to my collection.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/langtang-after-10-years">Langtang after 10 years</a>, Sonia Awale Being a foodie, Driard is now also dabbling in meat with his own charcuterie at Meatini with bacon, ham, sausage and pâtés. All of this is now served at his Emilio’s Pizza, a leafy hideaway in Lazimpat. His South Side in Moksh is probably the smallest wine bar in the world. “I call the process sublime,” says Driard of his ventures, which have grown organically. “You need the same temperature and humidity of 12°C and 80% for cheese, meat and wine.” Emilio’s speciality is the eight-cheese pizza (which has eight types of cheeses), and a pizza with bhutan topping (not the country but fried intestines and organs Nepali-style). He has opened a small branch at Courtyard in Pokhara.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="8 cheese pizza"> <figcaption>Eight-cheese pizza</figcaption> </figure>  With two artisanal cheese units, two farmers’ markets, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-meat-of-the-story">meat processing unit</a>, a bakery, and wine bar he now envisions a vineyard so he can add Nepali wine to his repertoire. Another future plan is to start up an agri-tourism business where customers can drink, eat and work in peace. In the past 20 years in Nepal, Driard has not always succeeded in his ventures but this hasn’t curbed his enthusiasm. He is learning as he goes, and like an old wine, Nepal is growing on him. Its slowness suits his French art de vivre with eating slowly outdoors, having conversation, importing less.&nbsp; “I have proven that with even a little money you can do a lot of things in Nepal,” adds Driard. “In the West, they easily invest half a million euros on a cheese factory, I invested 10 times less.”&nbsp;

maternal-and-child-health