This is the 66th 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. <h2>Siya Sada&nbsp;</h2> My husband never gets on cars or buses on his own. I cannot even imagine him flying on a plane by himself. His phobia of travel is very strong. Which is why unlike many men here in Janakpur, he never migrated.&nbsp; Instead, I sent my son to Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but both times he returned before his contract was up, with outstanding recruitment loans of Rs400,000.&nbsp; I had also taken additional loans for my daughter’s wedding. Heavily in debt, and frustrated with constant calls from the money lender, I decided to go overseas myself.&nbsp; There were other women I knew who had migrated to work as domestic workers in the Gulf and sent money home, so I decided to do the same. I did not tell anyone that I was migrating until the last minute.&nbsp; I had disappeared for 11 days in Kathmandu getting my documents ready, and my husband had gone around the village frantically looking for me with my father. I only informed them about my decision before my flight and ignored pleas from family not to leave.&nbsp; After our plane took off from Kathmandu to Kuwait, I enjoyed looking out of the window as we flew higher and higher. I worked there for six years.&nbsp; The first employer was mean spirited and terrible. She had a mischievous चकचके son whom I had difficulty taking care of. She expected me to carry his heavy toy car down four flights of stairs on my head for him to drive. This was just too much. She did not care whether I ate or not. After two years, I moved to a new family which was much nicer and treated me like family. The work was lighter because the children were all grown up and there was more consideration of my time to sleep, eat and work.&nbsp; There were no disagreements like with the previous employer, and I did as I was told उठ भने उठ, बस भने भस. The arrangement in that joint family was that each had their own domestic worker.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 65"> <figcaption>Siya Sada</figcaption> </figure>  We shared a room with an Ethiopian, Filipino and fellow Nepali. We had a strong bond between us, and we communicated with each other in Arabic which I had already picked up.&nbsp; In a foreign land, every day was a day closer to pay day. We would wait impatiently and count our fingers. I earned money, and I sent everything home to my family back in Nepal: “मैले कमाउने, परिवारले गन्ने”.&nbsp; I had plans to stay in Kuwait for 10 years but had to come back after six when I fell sick. I broke down when leaving, as I had become attached to the family I worked for.&nbsp; They bought me parting gifts like a watch, blanket, flashlight. I handed over my job to another Nepali domestic worker from Sunsari whom I trained before returning. I had managed to pay off my loans with my earnings in Kuwait, and had enough left over to buy some land and marry off my son. But since my stay was cut short, I could not manage to build a house.&nbsp; No other woman from my neighbourhood in Janakpur has migrated overseas that I am aware of. It is only men who migrate from around here.&nbsp; Perhaps I too would not have migrated if my husband had gone overseas, and my son had not returned. In addition to freeing myself from loan sharks, going overseas also widened my mind and horizon. If I had just stayed here in Nepal I would not have achieved as much, my loans would still have been unpaid. Life is back to normal now in Nepal. I am back to washing clothes with my hands and getting water from the well. I wish we could have brought back appliances like washing machines, rice cookers and vacuum cleaners but they are not practical here.&nbsp; Here, even when we leave the lights on for too long we have to worry about the electricity bill. How can we afford anything more ? I don’t even use the iron and hair dryer that I brought back. <h2>Gulbandan Devi Sada&nbsp;</h2> I spent three years and three months in Saudi Arabia and almost six years in Kuwait. It has been five years since I returned.&nbsp; My aunt-in-law had gone overseas, and I also wanted to go abroad to pay the medical bills of my sick husband and support four children. My husband supported my decision saying fate would determine if he would live or not, but we had to take care of our children.&nbsp; I traveled through India where the agent made us wait for a month. My husband died the day before my flight to Saudi Arabia. Everyone told me to continue with my journey as my husband would not return and my children needed to be taken care of. I went, and it took me a year to learn Arabic. Me and my employers relied on sign language and hand gestures to communicate with each other. It was not easy by any means.&nbsp; My employer taught me how to run the washing machine, iron and to cook as per their liking, after which she left things in my hands. Initially, I burnt clothes while ironing, broke the washing machine and my employer threatened to deduct the cost from my wages, but she thankfully did not do it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 66"> <figcaption>Gulbandan Devi Sada</figcaption> </figure>  But I found out my employer made money off of me by sending me to work at other people’s homes. I did not enjoy my stay there as she was किचकिचे demanding. I used to miss my children while taking care of her children who were of similar age. I had left them with my late mother.&nbsp; When I took care of children overseas, I had to be more cautious than with my own back home since the consequences would be severe if they fell down and got hurt while running around. With my savings, I bought land here, got my brother married and did a big puja. After a few months in Nepal, I went to Kuwait to work. This time, the experience was easier because I spoke Arabic and had gathered experience. But even there, I had to change two employers as I did not have a good experience with the families. The third house I worked in was better, and I stayed with them.&nbsp; Back home I built a house with my earnings, and married off my daughter. Although I wanted to stay longer, I decided to return because I had health issues. I worry about old age and the need to have savings, and even consider migrating sometimes. My only hope now is my children. When I returned to Nepal, my Kuwaiti employer kept calling me saying I should return because the children missed me. But I have my own children to focus on now.&nbsp;

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Every day is closer to pay day

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb859c7e80680e09ad0djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1088" height="579"/>It may sound incongruous writing about labour and employment when<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Covid-19 is surging across the country</a>.But since Saturday is May Day, let us look at labour and migration. The unmet need to generate enough jobs for the 500,000 young Nepalis who enter the labour market every year, and the state’s responsibility in facilitating safe and affordable migration for those who want to work abroad.The Constitution says: ‘The State shall pursue a policy of ensuring the right to work of the labor force, which remains as the major social and economic strength of the country, by providing them with employment and raising their participation in the management of enterprises, while at the same time protecting their rights and interests.’<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb879c7e80680e09ad0ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">Employment and migration are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">directly linked to the pandemic</a>, and as parts of the country go back into lockdown again, we have seen that the crisis will continue to have a direct impact on jobs, earnings and remittances in coming years.The state has the unenviable task of balancing lives with livelihoods. Compared to the first wave, this one is a tsunami, and we witness in India the kind of havoc it can wreak. For the poorest Nepalis without savings and social safety nets, the pandemic is as much an economic crisis as a health emergency.Even pre-pandemic, the lives of millions of Nepalis was precarious given the uncertainties of daily wages, and the inadequacy of subsistence agriculture.This is where the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP) that was launched with much fanfare in February 2019 held much promise. It planned a nationwide social protection program aimed at the poorest and jobless, guaranteeing them 100 days of employment annually. Those who registered but did not get jobs were to be provided unemployment allowance for 50 days a year.Last year’s budget promised jobs for 200,000 most vulnerable Nepalis affected by the lockdowns under this scheme.As we report, the outcome is discouraging: of the 750,000 who registered as jobless, only a little over 10% got jobs—not for 100 days, but an average of 11.The lesson is clear: local governments need to be empowered for decision-making and well-resourced and coordinate seamlessly with the federal government. Not learning this will lead to endemic complacency.Everyone agrees that the PMEP is a great idea. But as usual, the proof of the pudding in Nepal is always in the eating. Proper implementation could have helped the poorest Nepalis during this crisis. It is a missed opportunity.The PMEP was designed as a safety net for the poorest. During the Covid-19 crisis it is even more important to provide jobs for  families who need the income the most.A highly informal workforce also means a highly disposable workforce without social safety nets. Due to the drop in tourism, transport and retail trade, Nepal’s service sector growth is at an 18 year low. Two out of every five workers lost their jobs with women, the young workers most affected.Internal migration has also been hit by lockdowns, and we are once more seeing an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exodus of Nepalis</a> to their districts. Foreign employment is recovering, but slowly. Nepali workers are fleeing a devastating <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covid-19 surge in India</a>. The impact will be felt by the poorest Nepalis, especially from western Nepal who opt for seasonal work.The PMEP targets only the most vulnerable segment of the labour market. There are skilled, higher income groups who have also lost jobs.The labour market is under enormous pressure to absorb Nepalis who have been displaced from jobs, who would have migrated, the returnees, and new entrants. Many migrants see their own lifetime as solely that of sacrifice for their children, spending two to three decades in the Gulf just so the generation after them can break out of the cycle they have been stuck in.When parents are not able to work, children’s education suffers, and it is impacted by new school closures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/online-classes-may-widen-digital-divide/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Online education</a> is not an option for the poorest.The upcoming budget, just like last year’s, is sure to include lofty promises about employment priorities. There will again be pledges to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mobilise skills of returnees</a>, even though past reintegration programs never even remotely met targets.A more hopeful and helpful strategy would be to under-promise and over-deliver. That would be the honest way to mark this year’s Labour Day. More work and less talk.

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83619c7e80680e067730jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1088" height="579"/>It may sound incongruous writing about labour and employment when<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Covid-19 is surging across the country</a>.But since Saturday is May Day, let us look at labour and migration. The unmet need to generate enough jobs for the 500,000 young Nepalis who enter the labour market every year, and the state’s responsibility in facilitating safe and affordable migration for those who want to work abroad.The Constitution says: ‘The State shall pursue a policy of ensuring the right to work of the labor force, which remains as the major social and economic strength of the country, by providing them with employment and raising their participation in the management of enterprises, while at the same time protecting their rights and interests.’<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83639c7e80680e067731jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">Employment and migration are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">directly linked to the pandemic</a>, and as parts of the country go back into lockdown again, we have seen that the crisis will continue to have a direct impact on jobs, earnings and remittances in coming years.The state has the unenviable task of balancing lives with livelihoods. Compared to the first wave, this one is a tsunami, and we witness in India the kind of havoc it can wreak. For the poorest Nepalis without savings and social safety nets, the pandemic is as much an economic crisis as a health emergency.Even pre-pandemic, the lives of millions of Nepalis was precarious given the uncertainties of daily wages, and the inadequacy of subsistence agriculture.This is where the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP) that was launched with much fanfare in February 2019 held much promise. It planned a nationwide social protection program aimed at the poorest and jobless, guaranteeing them 100 days of employment annually. Those who registered but did not get jobs were to be provided unemployment allowance for 50 days a year.Last year’s budget promised jobs for 200,000 most vulnerable Nepalis affected by the lockdowns under this scheme.As we report, the outcome is discouraging: of the 750,000 who registered as jobless, only a little over 10% got jobs—not for 100 days, but an average of 11.The lesson is clear: local governments need to be empowered for decision-making and well-resourced and coordinate seamlessly with the federal government. Not learning this will lead to endemic complacency.Everyone agrees that the PMEP is a great idea. But as usual, the proof of the pudding in Nepal is always in the eating. Proper implementation could have helped the poorest Nepalis during this crisis. It is a missed opportunity.The PMEP was designed as a safety net for the poorest. During the Covid-19 crisis it is even more important to provide jobs for  families who need the income the most.A highly informal workforce also means a highly disposable workforce without social safety nets. Due to the drop in tourism, transport and retail trade, Nepal’s service sector growth is at an 18 year low. Two out of every five workers lost their jobs with women, the young workers most affected.Internal migration has also been hit by lockdowns, and we are once more seeing an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exodus of Nepalis</a> to their districts. Foreign employment is recovering, but slowly. Nepali workers are fleeing a devastating <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covid-19 surge in India</a>. The impact will be felt by the poorest Nepalis, especially from western Nepal who opt for seasonal work.The PMEP targets only the most vulnerable segment of the labour market. There are skilled, higher income groups who have also lost jobs.The labour market is under enormous pressure to absorb Nepalis who have been displaced from jobs, who would have migrated, the returnees, and new entrants. Many migrants see their own lifetime as solely that of sacrifice for their children, spending two to three decades in the Gulf just so the generation after them can break out of the cycle they have been stuck in.When parents are not able to work, children’s education suffers, and it is impacted by new school closures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/online-classes-may-widen-digital-divide/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Online education</a> is not an option for the poorest.The upcoming budget, just like last year’s, is sure to include lofty promises about employment priorities. There will again be pledges to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mobilise skills of returnees</a>, even though past reintegration programs never even remotely met targets.A more hopeful and helpful strategy would be to under-promise and over-deliver. That would be the honest way to mark this year’s Labour Day. More work and less talk.

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb689c7e80680e09ad01jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: UPASANA KHADKA</figcaption></figure>For most Nepalis, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/measuring-the-human-cost-of-lockdown/">economic crisis brought on by the pandemic</a> far outweighs its health risks. The majority of Nepal’s population is employed in the informal sector, cannot work remotely and have no social safety net.With many parts of the country going into another lockdown this week, any hope for employment recovery has further evaporated. Amid the uncertainty and financial distress, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/">Kathmandu saw an exodus</a> of tens of thousands of Nepalis fleeing back to their villages, a familiar scene from last year.The 2020 budget set an ambitious target of creating 700,000 jobs and raised public expectation. Some 200,000 of these jobs were to be created through the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive/">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP), a work guarantee scheme launched in February 2019 that promises 100 days of employment to the jobless.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb6b9c7e80680e09ad02jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">The numbers, however, paint a bleak picture. A whopping 752,976 jobseekers registered themselves as unemployed in the past year, of which 42% were women (see Figure 1). However, only 78,678 of them landed jobs for a combined 843,042 days so far this fiscal year. This translates into an average of 11 days of employment (see Figure 2). Even if we take underreporting into account, the numbers severely fall short of what was promised. In the first two years of the program, an average of 13 and 16 days of work was provided.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb6d9c7e80680e09ad03jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="692" height="588"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb6f9c7e80680e09ad04jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ganesh KC, Mayor of Madhuwan Municipality in Bardia, sees two merits of PMEP. The financial respite brought to those who receive jobs, albeit for a few days. And how it has concurrently helped with the maintenance of roads and public infrastructure.But he notes that there is significant room for improvement. “The number of jobseekers overwhelmingly exceeds the jobs available and those who get employment only do so for a few days. This results in disappointment as we raised public expectations with this scheme,” he says.The Employment Coordinators (ECs) in charge of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/gadfly-opinion/removing-poverty-with-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a> appointed at the local administrative units also echoed this view. “There is fatigue among jobseekers to fill out forms year after year when they don’t see results. They put pressure on the local representatives who in turn put pressure on us. This has put a dent on our credibility,” says one EC. While registered unemployed who were not provided jobs are entitled to 50 days equivalent of unemployment allowance, it hasn’t come to fruition yet.Suman Ghimire, Joint Secretary at the Labour Ministry and National Program Coordinator of PMEP, sees lack of local ownership as a big hurdle in PMEP implementation.“There is still a lack of understanding among local officials and representatives on the significance of PMEP which puts it in the backburner. They need to proactively engage with ward officials on the significance and implementation of the program as implementation begins at the ward level,” he says, adding that hiring and retaining ECs has been challenging in remote areas. “Without ECs at each municipality, it is difficult to expect results.”This discrepancy in local ownership is evident in a recently released PMEP 2019-2020 report, according to which only 495 out of 753 local units managed to implement the proposed projects, even though the  budget was disbursed to 701 local units.  So far this year, 566 local units have implemented PMEP (see Figure 3).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb719c7e80680e09ad05jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1044" height="646"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As per the report, PMEP intended to provide 100-days employment to 60,000 jobseekers 2019-20. Of the 370,734 who registered as unemployed, 105,365 got jobs for an average of 16 days. Only 39 local units provided jobs to over 500 individuals. Of the 753 ECs to be appointed at each local unit in charge of overseeing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a>, 110 local units did not have ECs either because they had not been appointed at all or had resigned, which was further delayed by the pandemic.So far in 2020-2021, over 10,000 PMEP projects have been implemented across the country, up from 4,302 last year (see Figures 4 and 5). About half of the projects are on roads and transportation. Applicants who are shortlisted are asked to form a group and coordinate with the ward on a pre-approved project they want to work on.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb739c7e80680e09ad06jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1214" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb769c7e80680e09ad07jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1181" height="597"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>One challenge to PMEP implementation is that the allocated budget can be spent only on wages, and not on equipment. “If it is a road project, for example, they need cement, shovels and safety gear. Who will provide that?” questions Bishaksen Dhakal, Chief Administrative Officer at Sindhuli’s Kalamai municipality.He adds: “In an ideal scenario, the local government’s budget would be used to cover material and equipment costs, but there is not much enthusiasm about this at the local leadership level.”The PMEP budget is also released much later than the fiscal allotment, leading to unwillingness on part of local governments to readjust their plans.Dhakal notes that there must be increased coordination between the federal and local governments so the latter sets aside a budget for PMEP projects equipment and material in advance or the guideline must be updated to allow for non-wage related expenditure.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb789c7e80680e09ad08jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2866" height="4300"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Karnali Province, a parallel Chief Minister’s Employment Program (CMEP) has relieved pressure on municipalities. “CMEP nicely complements PMEP and has provided relief on various fronts. Salaries of both programs are the same so the jobseekers unable to benefit from PMEP can get work through this program. Furthermore, there is more leeway with the CMEP because the 40 per cent of the budget can be used for the purchase of equipment and material,” says Resham Bahadur Budha, Chief Administrative Officer of Narayan Municipality in Dailekh.In Narayan municipality, for example, CMEP is expected to employ 1,000 individuals for 50 days in 22 projects. Of the 3,000 people registered for PMEP, less than 500 received some form of work.For a more lasting impact, local leaders stress on the need to equip PMEP beneficiaries with marketable skills and experience. “If the scheme had an element of graduation, beneficiaries could eventually wean off the program. Currently, they benefit from the program doing labor work for the number of days they are allocated, which is irregular and uncertain. Support like training would make them more employable,” says Mayor Ganesh KC.He also emphasises on the need to further strengthen the Employment Service Centers, especially to coordinate with the private sector who are the real job creators. Appeals to local employers and associations to make use of local labor, including those registered as unemployed under PMEP, have not yielded results yet.“If there is a need for a plumber, it would be good to rely on a roster of plumbers at ESC to hire from. As it is now, PMEP is not designed for skilled but unemployed workers who have higher reservation wages and skills so we need to think beyond PMEP,” he says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb7c9c7e80680e09ad09jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Beyond lapses in current infrastructure such as the capacity of the ESC and the available MIS system, KC notes that relying on ESCs for job placements also demands a mindset change: “As jobseekers and employers, we are habituated to relying on personal referrals and networks so such new practices will take time to adapt to.”Suman Ghimire at the Labour Ministry shares that it is working to strengthen ESC to play a stronger coordination and referral role and has set aside a budget to train over 59,000 PMEP beneficiaries for next fiscal year, but makes it clear that the scheme is not for the skilled workers.“We need to understand that PMEP is targeted to the poorest who are struggling to make ends meet. For the unemployed who are skilled and educated such as returnee migrants, there are self- and wage-employment programs run by other line agencies. We have prioritized strengthening the capacity of ESCs to play a strong coordination and referral role because the various programs are scattered and potential beneficiaries may not necessarily be aware of these schemes,” he says.Those we spoke to, from Mayors to ECs, express the enormous potential of PMEP to help the poorest of the poor. The jobs are in their proximity and for many, including women, it is a convenient way to boost household income especially during agricultural lean seasons.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131112/636ceb7d9c7e80680e09ad0ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With the pandemic, both domestic and foreign employment are on shaky grounds. This further increases the demand for programs like PMEP to provide temporary respite to individuals so they can better cope with the widespread economic shock.According to the World Bank Covid-19 monitoring survey, two out of five economically active workers reported incidence of job loss or prolonged work absence.  Internal migrants are returning back to their villages en masse. Seasonal migrant workers from India <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/">are reeling under the second wave</a>. Emigration to third countries beyond India is picking up, but slowly and unevenly. The macro-picture of remittance may have defied predictions so far but many have lost their overseas jobs, and with it an important income source that has served as the only reliable safety net. Disbursement of the government’s soft loan programs to encourage self-employment initiatives have shown modest improvement but are far from the desired targets. (See Figure 6)<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-year-of-migrant-workers/">The story of Hari </a>whose journey we have covered over the months shows how helpless migrants are in the face of the crisis. In May, Hari made an arduous journey back to Banke from Ahmedabad despite the risks of traveling.“It is better to die in my own country,” he told us then, as he trudged to the Nepal border on India’s Shramik train. Five months later, he went back to Ahmedabad to work with the same employer, a hotel, despite the COVID-19 crisis in India. On the phone in December, he asked us rhetorically: “How will my family survive if I don’t migrate?”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb809c7e80680e09ad0bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1926" height="1284"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A few weeks back, as the crisis gripped India, he again escaped to Nepal, wary that things were quickly spiraling out of control and wanting to avoid the border and quarantine complications he faced the first time back.  The back and forth and uncertainty has worn him down.“I am lucky to be alive. Two of my Nepali friends in Gujarat, a few hours from where I worked, died of Covid-19. It could have very well been me. At least I managed to escape and am alive and safe,” he says.But this recognition does not take away the financial stress back home as his family is already struggling to make ends meet and as a sole bread winner, his job prospects are dim. His is not an isolated story, of families in dire need of temporary safety nets to fall back on till the situation allows them to get back on their feet.Now more than ever, social protection programs are needed to provide a lifeline to the poorest. With the second wave, local governments are once again overwhelmed with flooded hospitals, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">returnee migrant</a> management, and shortages of all kinds. As pointed out in the 2019-20 PMEP report, in the context of the pandemic, the PMEP needs to be adapted to address local needs to help fight the crisis including building of temporary structures for isolation, contact tracing, sanitation drives, social awareness programs under Covid-19 safety protocols.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The second wave</a> and the quickly unfolding crisis further underscores the need to leverage this program for such activities. Given the current situation, the immediate need of the hour is also to cast the safety net wider by providing traditional emergency cash- or food-based assistance to help the poorest cope with food insecurity so families who have lost their livelihoods can ride out the crisis.Over the last three years PMEP has had a checkered reputation because of allegations of wasteful spending, unproductive work and improper targeting of the unemployed.“We are best placed to give critical feedback on implementation challenges,” says one EC. “It would be helpful if they came to monitor our work from the center, to understand the ground realities. As ECs, for example, we are still under-resourced as we do not have allowances for transportation to travel to the wards that we are in charge of, some of which are quite distant from where we are based. Sometimes, it is simple challenges and small kinks, if sorted, could go a long way.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636ceb839c7e80680e09ad0cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="990" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The federal government has been receptive to some other feedback from local governments and ECs, especially the current daily wage of Rs517 being too low by local standards, and are considering to readjust it for next fiscal year. This, however, is a tricky task.On one hand, the wages need to be high enough to make a meaningful difference to the poor. But on the other, low-wage setting aids with proper targeting by ensuring the intended beneficiaries i.e., the poorest self-select into the program and those who are not poor or have alternate income sources are not attracted to PMEP.To be fair, at just its third year, PMEP is still at its nascent stages and it will take a while for this massive undertaking to take off smoothly, further complicated by the pandemic.Comparator programs like India’s Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (MGNREGS), for example, celebrated its 15 years this year. In 2020-21, one hundred ten million jobseekers benefited from MNREGS, a 39% jump from the previous year, proving to be critical for distressed workers during the pandemic despite implementation challenges such as payment delays and job rationing.But as promised in the last budget, the expectation from the Nepal government’s flagship employment program during this unprecedented time was for swift and bold action, both because of and in spite of Covid-19.

Missing the plot in Nepal's job scheme

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83429c7e80680e067724jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: UPASANA KHADKA</figcaption></figure>For most Nepalis, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/measuring-the-human-cost-of-lockdown/">economic crisis brought on by the pandemic</a> far outweighs its health risks. The majority of Nepal’s population is employed in the informal sector, cannot work remotely and have no social safety net.With many parts of the country going into another lockdown this week, any hope for employment recovery has further evaporated. Amid the uncertainty and financial distress, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/another-kathmandu-exodus/">Kathmandu saw an exodus</a> of tens of thousands of Nepalis fleeing back to their villages, a familiar scene from last year.The 2020 budget set an ambitious target of creating 700,000 jobs and raised public expectation. Some 200,000 of these jobs were to be created through the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive/">Prime Minister’s Employment Program</a> (PMEP), a work guarantee scheme launched in February 2019 that promises 100 days of employment to the jobless.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83459c7e80680e067725jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="235">The numbers, however, paint a bleak picture. A whopping 752,976 jobseekers registered themselves as unemployed in the past year, of which 42% were women (see Figure 1). However, only 78,678 of them landed jobs for a combined 843,042 days so far this fiscal year. This translates into an average of 11 days of employment (see Figure 2). Even if we take underreporting into account, the numbers severely fall short of what was promised. In the first two years of the program, an average of 13 and 16 days of work was provided.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83479c7e80680e067726jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="692" height="588"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83499c7e80680e067727jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ganesh KC, Mayor of Madhuwan Municipality in Bardia, sees two merits of PMEP. The financial respite brought to those who receive jobs, albeit for a few days. And how it has concurrently helped with the maintenance of roads and public infrastructure.But he notes that there is significant room for improvement. “The number of jobseekers overwhelmingly exceeds the jobs available and those who get employment only do so for a few days. This results in disappointment as we raised public expectations with this scheme,” he says.The Employment Coordinators (ECs) in charge of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/gadfly-opinion/removing-poverty-with-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a> appointed at the local administrative units also echoed this view. “There is fatigue among jobseekers to fill out forms year after year when they don’t see results. They put pressure on the local representatives who in turn put pressure on us. This has put a dent on our credibility,” says one EC. While registered unemployed who were not provided jobs are entitled to 50 days equivalent of unemployment allowance, it hasn’t come to fruition yet.Suman Ghimire, Joint Secretary at the Labour Ministry and National Program Coordinator of PMEP, sees lack of local ownership as a big hurdle in PMEP implementation.“There is still a lack of understanding among local officials and representatives on the significance of PMEP which puts it in the backburner. They need to proactively engage with ward officials on the significance and implementation of the program as implementation begins at the ward level,” he says, adding that hiring and retaining ECs has been challenging in remote areas. “Without ECs at each municipality, it is difficult to expect results.”This discrepancy in local ownership is evident in a recently released PMEP 2019-2020 report, according to which only 495 out of 753 local units managed to implement the proposed projects, even though the  budget was disbursed to 701 local units.  So far this year, 566 local units have implemented PMEP (see Figure 3).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b834b9c7e80680e067728jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1044" height="646"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As per the report, PMEP intended to provide 100-days employment to 60,000 jobseekers 2019-20. Of the 370,734 who registered as unemployed, 105,365 got jobs for an average of 16 days. Only 39 local units provided jobs to over 500 individuals. Of the 753 ECs to be appointed at each local unit in charge of overseeing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PMEP implementation</a>, 110 local units did not have ECs either because they had not been appointed at all or had resigned, which was further delayed by the pandemic.So far in 2020-2021, over 10,000 PMEP projects have been implemented across the country, up from 4,302 last year (see Figures 4 and 5). About half of the projects are on roads and transportation. Applicants who are shortlisted are asked to form a group and coordinate with the ward on a pre-approved project they want to work on.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b834e9c7e80680e067729jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1214" height="573"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83509c7e80680e06772ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1181" height="597"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>One challenge to PMEP implementation is that the allocated budget can be spent only on wages, and not on equipment. “If it is a road project, for example, they need cement, shovels and safety gear. Who will provide that?” questions Bishaksen Dhakal, Chief Administrative Officer at Sindhuli’s Kalamai municipality.He adds: “In an ideal scenario, the local government’s budget would be used to cover material and equipment costs, but there is not much enthusiasm about this at the local leadership level.”The PMEP budget is also released much later than the fiscal allotment, leading to unwillingness on part of local governments to readjust their plans.Dhakal notes that there must be increased coordination between the federal and local governments so the latter sets aside a budget for PMEP projects equipment and material in advance or the guideline must be updated to allow for non-wage related expenditure.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83539c7e80680e06772bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2866" height="4300"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Karnali Province, a parallel Chief Minister’s Employment Program (CMEP) has relieved pressure on municipalities. “CMEP nicely complements PMEP and has provided relief on various fronts. Salaries of both programs are the same so the jobseekers unable to benefit from PMEP can get work through this program. Furthermore, there is more leeway with the CMEP because the 40 per cent of the budget can be used for the purchase of equipment and material,” says Resham Bahadur Budha, Chief Administrative Officer of Narayan Municipality in Dailekh.In Narayan municipality, for example, CMEP is expected to employ 1,000 individuals for 50 days in 22 projects. Of the 3,000 people registered for PMEP, less than 500 received some form of work.For a more lasting impact, local leaders stress on the need to equip PMEP beneficiaries with marketable skills and experience. “If the scheme had an element of graduation, beneficiaries could eventually wean off the program. Currently, they benefit from the program doing labor work for the number of days they are allocated, which is irregular and uncertain. Support like training would make them more employable,” says Mayor Ganesh KC.He also emphasises on the need to further strengthen the Employment Service Centers, especially to coordinate with the private sector who are the real job creators. Appeals to local employers and associations to make use of local labor, including those registered as unemployed under PMEP, have not yielded results yet.“If there is a need for a plumber, it would be good to rely on a roster of plumbers at ESC to hire from. As it is now, PMEP is not designed for skilled but unemployed workers who have higher reservation wages and skills so we need to think beyond PMEP,” he says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83579c7e80680e06772cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Beyond lapses in current infrastructure such as the capacity of the ESC and the available MIS system, KC notes that relying on ESCs for job placements also demands a mindset change: “As jobseekers and employers, we are habituated to relying on personal referrals and networks so such new practices will take time to adapt to.”Suman Ghimire at the Labour Ministry shares that it is working to strengthen ESC to play a stronger coordination and referral role and has set aside a budget to train over 59,000 PMEP beneficiaries for next fiscal year, but makes it clear that the scheme is not for the skilled workers.“We need to understand that PMEP is targeted to the poorest who are struggling to make ends meet. For the unemployed who are skilled and educated such as returnee migrants, there are self- and wage-employment programs run by other line agencies. We have prioritized strengthening the capacity of ESCs to play a strong coordination and referral role because the various programs are scattered and potential beneficiaries may not necessarily be aware of these schemes,” he says.Those we spoke to, from Mayors to ECs, express the enormous potential of PMEP to help the poorest of the poor. The jobs are in their proximity and for many, including women, it is a convenient way to boost household income especially during agricultural lean seasons.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83599c7e80680e06772djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="738" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With the pandemic, both domestic and foreign employment are on shaky grounds. This further increases the demand for programs like PMEP to provide temporary respite to individuals so they can better cope with the widespread economic shock.According to the World Bank Covid-19 monitoring survey, two out of five economically active workers reported incidence of job loss or prolonged work absence.  Internal migrants are returning back to their villages en masse. Seasonal migrant workers from India <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/">are reeling under the second wave</a>. Emigration to third countries beyond India is picking up, but slowly and unevenly. The macro-picture of remittance may have defied predictions so far but many have lost their overseas jobs, and with it an important income source that has served as the only reliable safety net. Disbursement of the government’s soft loan programs to encourage self-employment initiatives have shown modest improvement but are far from the desired targets. (See Figure 6)<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-year-of-migrant-workers/">The story of Hari </a>whose journey we have covered over the months shows how helpless migrants are in the face of the crisis. In May, Hari made an arduous journey back to Banke from Ahmedabad despite the risks of traveling.“It is better to die in my own country,” he told us then, as he trudged to the Nepal border on India’s Shramik train. Five months later, he went back to Ahmedabad to work with the same employer, a hotel, despite the COVID-19 crisis in India. On the phone in December, he asked us rhetorically: “How will my family survive if I don’t migrate?”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b835c9c7e80680e06772ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1926" height="1284"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A few weeks back, as the crisis gripped India, he again escaped to Nepal, wary that things were quickly spiraling out of control and wanting to avoid the border and quarantine complications he faced the first time back.  The back and forth and uncertainty has worn him down.“I am lucky to be alive. Two of my Nepali friends in Gujarat, a few hours from where I worked, died of Covid-19. It could have very well been me. At least I managed to escape and am alive and safe,” he says.But this recognition does not take away the financial stress back home as his family is already struggling to make ends meet and as a sole bread winner, his job prospects are dim. His is not an isolated story, of families in dire need of temporary safety nets to fall back on till the situation allows them to get back on their feet.Now more than ever, social protection programs are needed to provide a lifeline to the poorest. With the second wave, local governments are once again overwhelmed with flooded hospitals, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/indias-covid-catastrophe-hits-nepalis-hard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">returnee migrant</a> management, and shortages of all kinds. As pointed out in the 2019-20 PMEP report, in the context of the pandemic, the PMEP needs to be adapted to address local needs to help fight the crisis including building of temporary structures for isolation, contact tracing, sanitation drives, social awareness programs under Covid-19 safety protocols.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The second wave</a> and the quickly unfolding crisis further underscores the need to leverage this program for such activities. Given the current situation, the immediate need of the hour is also to cast the safety net wider by providing traditional emergency cash- or food-based assistance to help the poorest cope with food insecurity so families who have lost their livelihoods can ride out the crisis.Over the last three years PMEP has had a checkered reputation because of allegations of wasteful spending, unproductive work and improper targeting of the unemployed.“We are best placed to give critical feedback on implementation challenges,” says one EC. “It would be helpful if they came to monitor our work from the center, to understand the ground realities. As ECs, for example, we are still under-resourced as we do not have allowances for transportation to travel to the wards that we are in charge of, some of which are quite distant from where we are based. Sometimes, it is simple challenges and small kinks, if sorted, could go a long way.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b835f9c7e80680e06772fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="990" height="370"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The federal government has been receptive to some other feedback from local governments and ECs, especially the current daily wage of Rs517 being too low by local standards, and are considering to readjust it for next fiscal year. This, however, is a tricky task.On one hand, the wages need to be high enough to make a meaningful difference to the poor. But on the other, low-wage setting aids with proper targeting by ensuring the intended beneficiaries i.e., the poorest self-select into the program and those who are not poor or have alternate income sources are not attracted to PMEP.To be fair, at just its third year, PMEP is still at its nascent stages and it will take a while for this massive undertaking to take off smoothly, further complicated by the pandemic.Comparator programs like India’s Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (MGNREGS), for example, celebrated its 15 years this year. In 2020-21, one hundred ten million jobseekers benefited from MNREGS, a 39% jump from the previous year, proving to be critical for distressed workers during the pandemic despite implementation challenges such as payment delays and job rationing.But as promised in the last budget, the expectation from the Nepal government’s flagship employment program during this unprecedented time was for swift and bold action, both because of and in spite of Covid-19.

In 2003, the death by police firing of a student protesting a rise in fuel prices pushed Nepal’s student activists to join the प्रतिगमन विरोधी आन्दोलन (Movement Against Regression), which political parties had begun after king Gyanendra’s sacking an elected government a year before. The students’ participation elevated the movement and prompted more Nepalis to join in, leading to the People’s Movement that first sidelined the monarchy and then abolished it in 2008.&nbsp; That took five years to happen. But 12 years later, this month, a youth-led protest forced the prime minister to resign within 30 hours.&nbsp; Police massacred GenZ activists, many of them students, outside Parliament on 8 September. This intensified public anger, leading to targeted attacks, looting, and burning of the homes of political leaders, private businesses, and public buildings.&nbsp; Amid the smouldering ruins of state institutions, young Nepalis chose a new prime minister to lead an interim government and deliver a fresh mandate. All of this happened in five days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="8000" height="5760" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Parliament building up in flames during the GenZ protest on 9 September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  Students have been central to Nepal’s democratic and political process since the mid 20th century. In her 2018 book Making New Nepal, researcher Amanda Thérèse Snellinger traces the history of student activism and politics against a background of &nbsp;Nepal’s socio-political history and party politics.&nbsp; Snellinger examines the interplay of ideology and identity, explores how student activists fit into a political landscape continually occupied by the traditional elite, and details how student leaders have established themselves through relationships with influential actors on local, national, regional, and transnational levels. The Rana regime’s repression caused students to be politically aware. In 1947, students held the first organised protest against the Rana autocracy demanding educational reforms. The breadth of student activism expanded during the Panchayat era after king Mahendra banned political parties, which drove mainstream politicians and parties underground. &nbsp;Student activists then became proxies for multiparty democracy because they were still able to organise.&nbsp; Student politics was institutionalised, and unions emerged as vanguard sister organisations of political parties. Student activism, more so than mainstream political parties, played key roles during &nbsp;both major movements in 1990 and the 2000s, as they mobilised the citizenry to join the democratic process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1952" height="2928" loading="lazy" alt="1990 people's movement Nepal"> <figcaption>The iconic image of the 1990 People's Movement agaist the autocratic Panchyat regime of the king. Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption> </figure>  Through extensive ethnographic research between 2003 and 2015, Snellinger investigates the political coming of age of student activists during the final years of the armed insurgency and their role in and beyond the movement that ultimately abolished the monarchy. Her research revolves around the political journeys of five student activists: Akash and Rishi from the Nepali Congress (NC) student wing Nepal Student Union (NSU), Salini from the UML’s All Nepal National Free Students’ Union (ANNFSU-Akhil), Gyanu from ANNISU-Revolutionary of the Maoists, and Lagan, who began his political journey from Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party’s student wing Nepal Krantikari Bidyarthi Sangathan. The ‘movement against regression’ in 2003 served as the entry point &nbsp;for activists into national party politics. Indeed, it was their &nbsp;participation in the movement that elevated the profile of the main subjects of Snellinger’s research. In the years that followed, the paths of the five activists diverged. Some made it into mainstream politics, even becoming lawmakers. In doing so, they have had to trade idealism for pragmatism, and their attempts realise their previous vision for Nepal’s democracy have been overshadowed by their political opportunism and position. And even decades after they began their journey as student activists, the generation that the book focuses on are still considered &nbsp;‘youth’ leaders. Snellinger quotes a former student leader who joined mainstream politics as saying: “I am still a youth because &nbsp;my aspirations remain unfulfilled.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="2006 People's Movement of Nepal"> <figcaption>A student protester wearing a paper crown and ridiculing Gyanendra with an impersonation, a day after king stepped down and left his palace. Photo: AJAY JOSHI / A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, the refusal of Nepal’s octogenarian leaders to retire (even after The upheaval this month) has created a surplus of younger adults waiting in the wings, making the word ‘youth’ relative in Nepal’s political trajectory. Other subjects of Snellinger's research have retreated from student and mainstream activism, either in disappointment over their mother party’s retreat from some of their more radical positions, or to &nbsp;continue their work at the community level through education and journalism. One of them has leveraged her political connections to further women-led initiatives after unsuccessful election bids. Nearing the end of her research in 2015, Snellinger observes the disappointment of Madhesi communities whose movement to demand more inclusive provisions of the draft Constitution had gone in vain, even after 45 lives were lost.&nbsp; As the Constitution was promulgated in 2015, TVs were switched off in the Tarai, and there were sighs of resignation. In Kathmandu, Snelllinger noted that the student leaders that entered mainstream politics protesting for inclusive democracy had little empathy for the struggles and similar demands of groups in the Madhes. Despite the students’ role in ending the monarchy, Nepal’s political status quo has remained. The institutions and people that replaced the &nbsp;monarchy have allowed one set of Kathmandu elites to be replaced with another.&nbsp; The socio-political benefits promised during the movement two &nbsp;decades ago have remained tightly controlled by leaders who refuse to give up their hold on power. The political system was overhauled, but without concrete reform. It was only a matter of time before public frustration would boil over. Indeed, Snellinger concludes her book by predicting the inevitability of future movements in Nepal.&nbsp; She writes: ‘Leaders emerge through the andolan … a new generation will emerge shaped by Nepal’s accumulated socio-political heritage, which they will mediate to shape a liveable present and future for themselves in their country, perhaps by continuing the movement.’&nbsp; And that is exactly what happened on 8-9 September. Students marched in the streets demanding an end to corruption and impunity, but this time not as proxies of political parties.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z protest"> <figcaption>A student during the GenZ protest against acorruption on 8 September. Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Their desire for socio-political reform was apolitical at a time in Nepal’s history when the nation’s student organisations have weakened and lost credibility, mirroring the erosion of trust in their parent parties. Along with party-based student unions, the Free Student Union (FSU)— the umbrella body all student unions—has lost its reputation due to corruption and embezzlement. That is not to say there are no similarities in movements past and present. Whether political or apolitical, protests have been overshadowed by a lack of unity within the groups that spearhead movements. They have led to destruction of public and private institutions.&nbsp; Leaders of youth and student movements have also had to bear the brunt of the frustration of the people they represent when there is no delivery on their demands. The academics of students have suffered because of frequent lockouts of university and college administration. Youth andolan, whether political or apolitical, has been a rite of passage into Nepali democratic politics — dissensus is an integral part of political regeneration. It remains to be see how the fall &nbsp;from grace of political parties after the GenZ movement will affect their affiliated student unions. As elections approach, student unions and youth collectives will find their own footing in Nepal’s &nbsp;newly emerging socio-political landscape. The youth who took to the streets are asking for a complete overhaul for political parties. Establishmentarian leaders still have not seen the writing on the wall.&nbsp; NextGen leaders in their parties have been waiting for years for their turn &nbsp;to break through the glass ceiling. These established political actors will not go down without a fight in the run-up to March elections.&nbsp; Amanda Thérèse Snellinger perhaps needs a post-script or even a sequel to her book to see how a new generation of leaders, forged by their student activism, will compete in Nepal's new political arena.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Making new Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

What does a journalist do when young protesters are shot in front of her? Does she do her job and stay neutral? Can you stay neutral?&nbsp; As protests engulfed Kathmandu, Nepal's journalists found themselves reporting a story that was personal. While doing their job, some of them were even targeted by mobs.&nbsp; Dart Asia Pacific Fellow <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/arunkarki/" target="_blank">Arun Karki</a> visited their newsrooms and spoke with his colleagues on their experience of reporting the GenZ protests that erupted on 8 September. These are the first-hand accounts of journalists who witnessed the turmoil in the city they call home. Sunita Karki was at a workshop in a hotel on 8 September. She saw the first waves of protests through hotel windows. Curfew alerts flooded her phone, a vehicle belonging to a human rights group sat burning across the road, young boys were taking their wounded friends on motorbikes to the Everest Hospital, and police were beating a teenager with hands raised up.&nbsp; “I cried a lot,” she said, but the tears were not out of fear -- they were because she felt guilt. “I couldn’t write the news. We were witnessing these scenes from a five-star hotel.” By evening, the death toll had reached 19. On 9 September at about 3:35 p.m. &nbsp;her outlet, the Annapurna Post's office in Tinkune, Kathmandu, was set on fire. Staff had to leave the building as parts of the newsroom burnt down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dart Centre Asia Pacific"> </figure>  When she knew her office was burning, she anxiously told her husband that she would resign from the job: "If we have to hide our identification cards in every protest, what kind of journalist am I?" she asked herself. She filed a story the next day, but her emotions kept bouncing between that of a journalist’s duty and shock. She said that in moments like this, it’s hard to feel truly neutral. After watching the police beat people, she felt a strong urge to step in, not just stand back and report. The first real calm came later, when people came to the street and lit small candles together. “This was a sort of victory procession. I felt some relief after brutal days,” she said. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/angaddhakal/" target="_blank">Angad Dhakal</a> a photojournalist who works at Kantipur National Daily, was standing outside his office building when protesters stormed in and set parts of it on fire. He had already been informed that protesters were planning to torch his office building and &nbsp;rushed to his office hoping to save his hard drives containing ten years of photography work. He failed. He raised his camera and "forcefully" pressed the shutter - more to document the scene than out of "professional enthusiasm or duty".&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  “My office was burning. What should I photograph?” he recalled. A few moments later, a protester noticed the “PHOTO” label on his yellow Press jacket. Dhakal deflected it by saying he was an early career freelancer and YouTuber. So that protesters wouldn't find out, he went to one corner and took his jacket off. When it comes to covering street protests, &nbsp;Angad usually stands near the police because it feels safer. But on 8 September, fire and gunshots made even that area unsafe. A rubber bullet hit his friend Dipendra Dhungana that badly injured him.&nbsp; He thought, “Where do we go now? If we stay here, we’ll be hit.” After witnessing two days of protests, violence, and killings, and seeing his own office burning, he couldn't sleep for days. The same afternoon that government buildings burned and Kantipur was attacked, a message in a protest Discord forum talked openly of 'attacking Kantipur'.&nbsp; Rumours spread to other outlets. Outside OnlineKhabar's office, where <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/article/edit/7376157229248528384/?author=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_company%3A79132377#" target="_blank">Gaurav Pokharel</a> works, the newsroom manager saw “very suspicious people were walking around”. They lowered blinds, avoided windows, locked the front gate and dispersed staff to other places across the city. The outlet was threatened and effectively locked down, but not torched. Pokharel hid his press ID. “ I never showed the ID card. Sometimes I had to enter the crowd shouting slogans, just to blend in among the protesters,” he said. He watched people fall under gunfire, he helped pull one surrounded journalist out of a hostile crowd.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  As a freelancer, Gaurav also contributed articles for international outlets. Later, while transcribing an interview of a young protest organiser, he wrote to his editor at an international outlet : “This was very hard to write. I cried many times while doing it.” He had been working at a stretch for days battling bouts of exhaustion and low blood pressure.&nbsp; Protesters vandalised and set fire within the Singha Darbar complex housing Nepal Television and Radio Nepal. They tried to disrupt public broadcasting.&nbsp; Surendra Paudyal began the day with his press ID hanging on his neck, thinking it would let him move freely. But when he reached Singha Darbar around 3:30PM, the situation felt dangerous.&nbsp; He put the ID in his pocket. When asked what mattered most, he answered without pause: life comes first. In that moment, he felt real fear and a strong duty to protect his team.&nbsp; His focus narrowed to basic things: stay calm, find exits, get everyone out safely. Later, they were able to keep the 8 pm news on air through a regional link. He felt mixed emotions and a sense of relief that the broadcast continued, but also sadness and anger that their own studio had come under attack. Reprinted with permission from the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, a regional hub that provides trauma-informed support and advice to journalists.

"It is hard to feel neutral"

Harry Jackson was on an epic adventure ‘from Thailand to the UK on 2 wheels’ when he ran into the ultimate sidequest. Having just visited Zangla in Ladakh, Jackson had only landed in Kathmandu when he found himself in the middle of GenZ protests earlier this month. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w">Arriving in Nepal - Chaos, Protest &amp; Curfews</a>’ is the title of his first video (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wehatethecold/videos">wehatethecold on YouTube</a>) about the protest. He shoots police as they shoot at protesters outside Parliament. Jackson is riding a Honda CT125, a retro lightweight motorbike with off-road capabilities. Strapped to the bike is his sparse luggage, flute, and a faded Union Jack. People are rioting on the streets and there is a heavy armed police presence as he makes his way to his hostel in Thamel. His vlog the day after on 9 September has 29 million views. In ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyxSqeFrlp0">The side of Nepal the media won’t show you</a>’, Jackson rides his bike straight at the crowd just past the Parliament building into Old Baneswar.&nbsp; He parks it and walks among the protestors, documenting it all: from the police firing capsules of tear gas into the crowd to the burning Parliament building as well as the jubilant, victorious crowd in the premises as they destroy police vehicles and dance. “I’m shocked at the scenes I’ve witnessed here today. I have truly witnessed history on a stupid trip from Thailand to England on a f***ing moped!” exclaims Jackson as he leaves the scene for the day, heading back to his hostel to edit the footage. The hostel is in direct contrast to the raucous scenes of the protest, as tourists and Nepalis sit and lounge at tables. ‘KUIRE VLOGGER’ Nepalis quickly called him the ‘kuire vlogger’, and attribute his skin colour to his popularity. Objectively, the videos are well made. Jackson goes full gonzo journalist, putting himself right in the heart of the action, talking directly to the people, all while narrating the events as they unfold. Despite being cut together in an entertaining way, the footage retains a raw, unpolished quality that outdoes what most professional journalists with a heavy duty camera crew could do. At a time when legacy media has been seen to be pushing biased narratives, Jackson wants to see for himself what happened, and make up his own mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1604" loading="lazy" alt="WehateTheCold"> </figure>  This kind of video journalism takes a lot of skill and a certain personality. Many people, almost everybody, had their phones out at the protests, but only a handful were like Jackson. He interviewed people firsthand, edited the clips and uploaded them the same day. Jackson continued his vlogging over the next few days as the curfew was first put in place and then lifted. He explores the city as the Valley rebounds. By this time, Nepalis recognise him everywhere he goes. Jackson had achieved moderate fame as a 23-year old DJ in Birmingham, but what he has done in Nepal is something else. Almost everyone he talks to has already seen his vlog, and they are all eager to interact. He has been on multiple podcasts in Nepal too, and most videos online on the protests reference his vlogs. Before his Nepal blogs, Jackson had a modest 16k subcribers on YouTube, but after Nepal figure is now almost 700k, gaining over 100k each through 11-13 September. Most of them are Nepali viewers. “I’m just a regular dude who just did what he wanted to do,” says Jackson on a podcast. “I wanted to go on an adventure, learn about history, and learn languages. And I wanted to film it, document it, and have a wicked film for my life to show future generations.” &nbsp;

The accidental journalist

From the echo chambers of social media to neighborhood tea shops, the hot topic two weeks after the GenZ revolt toppled Nepal’s government is whether the country should now have a directly elected prime minister. Although this has been proposed before as a way to end the instability in heads of government chosen by the biggest party or coalition in Parliament, it has found supporters and critics in the aftermath of the protests. As democratic as it sounds, a directly elected executive is not that simple.&nbsp; Nepal’s 2015 Constitution does not allow it, but for a young generation impatient for change, this demand raises critical social, political and constitutional questions. Nepal has seen a multiplicity of systems in the past 45 years: from a partyless absolute monarchy to a constitutional one, a parliamentary democracy and then a federal republic. But they have repeatedly failed to bring stability, good governance or an end to corruption in Nepal. But even though lately they have ensured civil liberties, the public was losing hope for the future, especially the young who could air and amplify their outrage on social media. Unbridled corruption and ideologically mismatched fragile coalitions acting with impunity, led many to conclude that a directly elected prime minister would ensure stability and accountability. ‘We have repeatedly trusted the same political parties, but they have repeatedly broken that trust, so it is no longer possible to trust that system anymore,’ says Miraj Dhungana, popular for the TikTok videos asking young people to go out into the streets to rally against corruption, and seen by many as the ‘original’ representative of Gen Z.&nbsp; In interviews he has stated that it has become necessary for Nepal to have a directly elected executive head through constitutional amendment. Dhungana himself did not participate in the protests after his meeting with pro-monarchist businessman Durga Prasai on 7 September sparked controversy that he as a lackey. Binod Deuba Thakuri of the Nepal Student Union who also participated in the GenZ protests thinks Nepal is institutionally not ready for directly elected prime minister: “Our democracy is not mature yet, our institutions are not strong, and we are vulnerable to social media induced populism.”&nbsp; CONSTITUTION AMENDMENT Amending the Constitution would also open a pandora’s box, with other demands, and should be left to the next legislative body, he adds. In her address to the nation on Friday, Prime Minister Sushila Karki who is a former chief justice also clarified that her interim government does not have the mandate to amend the Constitution to make way for a directly elected head of government, and it should be up to the new legislature and government after the 5 March election.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2774" loading="lazy" alt="Constitution Day NT"> <figcaption>Constitution Day address by Prime Minister Sushila Karki on 19th September earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  The demand for a directly elected executive head was first raised by Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal after the 2006 ceasefire. He proposed himself as Nepal’s first executive president ahead of the 2008 Constituent Assembly elections. While the UML did not strongly oppose the idea, the Nepali Congress (NC) stuck to a parliamentary framework. The 2015 Constitution ultimately clinched it for the current parliamentary system. The Constitution stipulates that the process of selecting a prime minister is based on parliamentary strength: the President appoints the leader of the party with a majority in the House of Representatives, or, in the absence of such a majority, a member who can demonstrate majority support. If these efforts fail, provisions exist for coalition or minority governments, and ultimately for the dissolution of the House and fresh elections. The Constitution currently makes no provision for a directly elected prime minister, which means that any attempt to introduce a directly elected executive would first require the careful design of a democratic mechanism to amend the Constitution and set out the procedures for such an election.&nbsp; “There is no legal legitimacy to have the directly elected executive head of the country in the March election, except if political legitimacy surpasses legality but that would mean a new constitution,” explains senior advocate Surendra Kumar Mahato. “Many other institutional arrangements like the appointment of the judiciary, the role of the president, and other check and balance mechanisms would need to be restructured.” Mahato says: “Nepal’s Constitution itself is not at fault — it is the political actors, who have failed to uphold good governance within its framework. Changing systems does not ensure better governance.”&nbsp; Changing the Constitution also needs a broad political consensus, the institutional capacity of the state must be carefully considered to ensure such a new system can function effectively in practice and not simply in theory. Empowering an executive head through direct elections should not come at the expense of accountability or parliamentary oversight, and there should be checks and balances in place. LESSONS FROM ABROAD Sri Lanka’s 2022 Agralaya was fuelled by the anger that the directly executive head turned out to be an authoritarian who backslides on democracy. Under Sri Lanka’s 1978 Constitution, the country adopted a directly elected executive presidency with sweeping powers over the cabinet, appointments, dismissal of parliament, and control over key institutions.&nbsp; Over the years, President Mahinda Rajapaksa removed term limits via the 18th Amendment in 2010, centralised appointment powers, including judges and heads of independent commissions, and used constitutional changes such as the 20th Amendment (2020) to reverse safeguards that limited presidential authority, thereby subordinating the legislature, weakening oversight, and enabling authoritarian control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072" data-rendition-name="original" width="4640" height="2610" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ and Aragalaya"> <figcaption>Anti-government protest in Sri Lanka on 13 April 2022 in front of the Presidential Secretariat. Photo: WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s multiparty framework upholds an institutional balance where both the governing party and the opposition have defined roles. This parliamentary setup prevents power from being overly concentrated in one individual and ensures accountability through parliament and competing parties. Beyond the neighbourhood, the United States has a directly elected executive system. Donald Trump exemplifies how direct electoral mandate can fracture institutional check mechanisms. He has leveraged his power to attack judges, frame political opponents, turn legal defeats into rallying points for his supporters, often using pliant media platforms to reinforce the idea that institutional checks impeded the popular will. In Nepal, there is a risk that a directly elected prime minister could bring up a populist media savvy messiah who could use public grievances to get to power and consolidate it. Social media can be mobilised and easily saturated with posts to fuel a political narrative of choice.&nbsp; In the past, former prime minister K P Oli’s ‘digital army’ has been lobbied on his behalf on social media. Even without an ‘IT sena’, it is not unusual for governments to collaborate with social media platforms as seen in the US and India.&nbsp; In Nepal, a directly elected prime minister would raise the stakes, turning the battle for votes into a battle for attention online, where a leader who wins the algorithm also wins the elections, just as Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah demonstrated in 2022 with support from groups like MRR and RONB. The Balen Phenomenon started in social media trickled to the ballot box.&nbsp; The digital space mas ensure that it is not trendy to dislike Balen. Comments that are critical of the Kathmandu Metropolitan City’s treatment of street vendors or of the mayor himself are met with backlash from supporters. Or, if the comments did not get any likes, the algorithms filtered them out as ‘not relevant’.&nbsp; The conversation of Shah often centred on his emotive responses and sentiments, generating strong engagement online. Meanwhile, policy debates received comparatively less attention.&nbsp; “Choosing a leader directly through an election means that we are vulnerable to populism and undermining of the democratic process, accountable institutions,” says Thaukri. Political activist Pradip Gyawali admits that the GenZ revolt was an example of how social media is a powerful tool to organise and disseminate information. But there are risks posed by disinformation and fake news online.&nbsp; “More media and political literacy among the people before the election in March is crucial to control the damage social media could do to influence voter behaviour,” he says.&nbsp; Beyond social media, online news increasingly relies on sensational, click-driven headlines to attract readers in a competitive digital market. A recent survey showed that 82.6% of GenZ (16- 24) rely on Facebook for news and 51.4% on YouTube.&nbsp; Nepali people with higher education seemed to engage with news more (99.1%) than illiterate individuals at 52.1%. Byte-sized headline-only journalism is leaving readers to their own devices, and vulnerable to media infiltration by IT cells.&nbsp; With social media actively shaping the course of elections, and news consumption, debates about changing the Constitution or the system of governance yet again may not ensure the demands for corruption free governance is met. Instead, strengthening media and political literacy among voters is key to prepare for the elections in March. Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

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Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

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The accidental journalist

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