<figure><img width="1623" height="741" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba65c9c7e80680e073717jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>+ When <a href="1)%09https:/www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-kathmandu-airlift-begins/">Kalim Miya in the UAE and Bhumika in Kuwait</a> found themselves stranded abroad after the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, they took to social media via Facebook Live videos to seek help. Both of them are back in their villages in Nepal now, and attribute the early repatriation to their online outreach that drew them widespread attention.+ The Nepal Embassy in Malaysia holds <a href="2)%09https:/www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/preparing-for-nepals-returnees/">weekly Facebook sessions</a> with updates and answers to questions which are viewed by hundreds of thousands of Nepali migrants in the country.+When a video of a <a href="3)%09https:/www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-guard-beaten-in-malaysia-goes-viral/">Nepali security guard getting beaten up mercilessly</a> by his supervisor in Malaysia went viral earlier this month, it drew attention of the Malaysian authorities, even though similar cases happen on a daily basis and go unnoticed.+ Soon <a href="4)%09https:/www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepalis-caught-up-in-beirut-blast-recount-horror/">after the explosion in Beirut, Nepalis based in Lebanon</a> were quick to inform their families and each other about their safety via social media.These are just a few of recent examples where social media has played a key role in spotlighting stories of Nepali migrant communities and their families cope with this unprecedented global crisis. On the one hand, the pandemic demands isolation but on the other the Internet offers connectedness across borders.“It barely feels like we are abroad these days because we are in such close contact with frequent real-time updates,” says Yubraj, who is working in Qatar and the son of Kuma Bahadur, a 60-year-old returnee who had himself worked in Saudi Arabia in the 1990s.Yubaraj recalls growing up and writing letters to his father in longhand and mailing it by post. It would sometimes take months to get a reply.  <figure><img width="200" height="269" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6609c7e80680e073718jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="606" height="870" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6619c7e80680e073719jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“My father tried to write at least once a month. I remember he used to be very curious about tiny  details about the condition of our farm and the livestock,” Yubaraj says. “He did not share much about his life in Saudi Arabia.”Perhaps Yubaraj’s father had nothing to say about Saudi Arabia because he never got to see much of the country. He was brought straight from the airport to the majara farm where he worked, and after a few years he was taken right back to the airport to fly back to Nepal.Yubaraj’s letters to his father were mainly messages from his younger siblings, trivia from the neighbourhood, whose water buffalo gave birth, the harvest, and updates about his studies.“There wasn’t anything new or exciting to share about our lives, and the letters were more to keep him connected to home, and to let him know we missed him,” adds Yubaraj, who went to the local post office every two weeks to see if there was a letter from his father. He used to get anxious if there was no letter for over a month.Three years after Kum Bahadur left for Saudi Arabia in the 1990s, the village got its first landline phone. One day the didi from the shop rushed to Yubaraj’s house to say there was a call. My grand-aunt spoke to my father first and broke down when she heard his voice for the first time in years.“It was an emotional moment,” Yubraj says, adding that the calls were expensive. “Phone calls were short and rare, it was just to hear each others’ voices. The details were in our letters.”Years later, in 2007, it was Yubraj’s turn to seek his fortune in Qatar. By this time, there was already a landline in his house, but calls were still expensive. So, he still wrote letters to his father, but this time their roles were reversed – his father was in Nepal and he was abroad.“I still remember the first letter I wrote to my family from Qatar,” remembers Yubraj. “I told them about my struggles in the desert heat and the stark contrast with the cool air of Lamjung. I also described to them showers did not help cool off because the water was warm no matter which knob I used.”He tried to sound positive in his letters, just like his father, so his family would not worry too much. But he also wrote to them that he could have achieved more in Nepal itself, had he been willing to work as hard as he did in Qatar. One day, Yubaraj saw his manager get a new Nokia 6300, but it took him two years to be able to save enough to afford one so he could stay in touch with his family.   <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6639c7e80680e07371ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kum Bahadur used to farm in a majara in Saudi Arabia, growing watermelon and camel fodder. He had never understood what a majara was until he visited Nepalis toiling in a farm in the desert.He says: “It brought tears to my eyes, thinking about how hard my father had to struggle in Saudi Arabia. We have it much easier now. At least we are in close touch.”***In his 24 years in Qatar, Kareem Bakhsh Miya has seen how advances in communication technology have changed the way migrant workers communicate with families back home.“We used to send letters or cassettes with 60 minute voice recordings to our family members,” he recalls. “I even had pen-friends all over Nepal to whom I wrote frequently. I spent a lot on postage because my letters were so heavy. As a loyal customer, the post office rewarded my family so they were able to send six months of letters for free.” <figure><img width="640" height="492" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6659c7e80680e07371bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Phone calls were not that frequent, and the closest shop with a landline was 22km from his house in Tanahun. Miya’s family had to be notified by the shopkeeper via messengers, including drivers of mini-buses or shoppers, about the day and time when they had to come to the shop for the next call.“The calls were very expensive, and I had to make chit-chat with the shopkeeper to return the favour,” says Miya, adding that a call usually meant there was some kind of emergency. Finally, Miya was able to send home a mobile phone in 2007, after which they could call more often.“Look how times have changed,” he says, “it is more expensive to send letters now than to make video calls.”*** <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6689c7e80680e07371cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Tilu Sharma, who also spent 16 years in Qatar used to send detailed instructions to his family about how to call someone from his labour camp who had a mobile.“We dreaded calls. For me and other Nepalis in the camp, we knew that if there was a call from home, it usually meant bad news.” <figure><img width="610" height="368" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba66a9c7e80680e07371djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Tilu did not write too many letters home, but when he did, he made sure he sent regards and remembrances to  everyone in the community, without leaving anyone out. He also knew that the letter would be read and re-read aloud many times, so it was a public document and had to be simple and legible.“You didn’t just write to your parents and siblings, the letter had to include your neighbors and extended family out of respect,” recalls Tilu, who used to send letters with other Nepalis going home.*** <img width="593" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba66c9c7e80680e07371ejpeg.jpg" alt="">Om Thapa was in the UAE from 2001-2005 and Saudi Arabia from 2007-2016 and received the first photos of his newborn daughter by mail in the UAE. “I only got to see her for the first time when she was three. I missed a lot of her early years growing up,” says Om.Om still remembers the rush of excitement when a colleague used to walk in with a pile of envelopes, and call out the names of recipients. “There is nothing like the depth of words and emotion exchanged via letters with my wife in those days, they felt like actual conversations,” he remembers.When his second child was born, Om was working in Saudi Arabia. But by this time there was social media, so he felt more connected because of Facebook.Pictured left, Om Thapa in the UAE in 2001.*** <figure><img width="2212" height="1638" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba66f9c7e80680e07371fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Bishnu, a seasoned migrant has worked in Malaysia for the past 20 years, and seen the Nepali migrant population grow rapidly since then. He remembers how the Kuala Lumpur neighbourhood of Kotaraya evolved to be ‘Little Nepal’ because Nepalis hung out there on their days off to meet in Nepali restaurants.  “Before Facebook and phones, this is where we came hoping to meet friends and exchange news from home. We received or sent letters home through acquaintances. It was also a spot to find out if there are newcomers from our villages which was always very exciting,” Bishnu remembers. “Now we have all the news from home and information about Nepal through social media.”But Bishnu misses the old days: “There was beauty in the simplicity and longing in receiving hand-written letters, meeting someone unexpectedly from your village, or the monthly phone calls that we eagerly waited for.”

Upasana Khadka

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

From letters to landlines, phones to Facebook

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a56d69c7e80680e0547a9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="1500"/><figcaption>Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Just after waking, the first thing many people across the world, and increasingly in Nepal, do is pick up their mobile phones. Social media now connects not just people, but is deeply rooted in our everyday lives. It has become an addiction, a cure for boredom, a source of information (and entertainment), a new form of escapism.Research has shown that social media addiction is an established mental health condition. This week, US lawmakers introduced a bill that would require platforms to deactivate algorithms designed to keep users hooked to their sites. Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=32537&amp;preview_nonce=96e6eb44eb&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s new digital landscape,</a> Sonia AwaleSymptoms of internet addiction are insomnia, irritability, lack of appetite, difficulty in focussing on the task at hand, and distraction. Addicts have a hard time making even simple decisions or taking action because there is too much to consume. It can also divert them from what’s really important.As a result, the number of people who want to disconnect and deactivate their social media accounts (‘commit Facebook suicide’) is growing even in Nepal.“I was using many social media platforms. Choosing the right one to post my content was becoming overwhelming. Then there was the pressure to keep posting content. I shared my personal feelings on social media, but it was a false sense of security,” recalls Manoj Bohora, who decided to take the '30-day No Social Media Challenge’ in February.Read also: <a style="letter-spacing: 0.01em; background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=32431&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The message is the medium</a>, Editorial"I took part to see what would happen if I totally disconnected. It takes 28 days to get rid of the habit, and I wanted to change desperately,” he recalled.Bohora was social media manager for International Youth Media Summit and being online was a part of work. Now, he gets around it by scheduling posts weeks ahead. He says the 30-day challenge helped him re-connect with friends and family in real time and improved his concentration. He started using reliable websites for information rather than being dependent on friends’ posts.Today, Bohora uses only Facebook and Instagram, and limits online time to under 15 minutes daily. “In the long run, I think I will quit social media altogether, but I am not sure yet,” he smiles.As far back as 2001, Norwegian anthropologist Thomas Hylland Eriksen published Tyranny of the Moment: Fast and Slow Time in the Information Age, analysing Internet consumption. But that was even before Facebook, Twitter, and all the other apps that came later. In a research paper, Eriksen claimed human beings were ‘in the process of becoming enslaved by the technology that was supposed to liberate us’. That was then. Nearly two decades later, things have gotten much worse.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=32425&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Digital detox,</a> Nepali Times<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/facebook-nation/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Facebook nation</a>, Madhu Acharya<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a56d99c7e80680e0547aajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1017"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The rapid spread of mobile phones in the past five years means that more and more people are seeking instant gratification through their devices. More than 96% of households in Nepal have mobile phones, some have several, and 92% of individuals have one. Nearly all Nepalis who use the Internet do so with their smart phones (see adjoining review).According to Madhu Acharya from Sharecast Initiative, which conducted a social media survey of Nepalis last year, the number of social media users is also rising. Some 88% of Internet users are on Facebook, 45% are on Messenger and 34% use YouTube. Although the numbers are smaller for Twitter, there is a multiplier effect because its users are opinion-makers and influencers.But even Acharya says he has felt the impact of Internet addiction, and is thinking of quitting, or at least limiting the time he spends on it. But it is not easy for internet addicts to be on the wagon.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-are-drifting-to-digital-media/">Nepalis are drifting to digital media</a>, Madhu Acharya and Bhumiraj Chapagain<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a56dc9c7e80680e0547abjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="774"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Says Sashi Shrestha, who runs an FM music show: “Social media is integrated into our lives — if it is not Facebook it is Viber or other apps. You either have to cut off all communication or find a platform you like. It is not easy to get out of social media completely. But what I can do is focus on certain applications that meet my requirements.”Shrestha still uses Instagram and Reddit, but adds, "It has been almost two years since I have not touched Facebook. It was taking a lot of my time, and the information was half-baked. I was not learning anything from it.”Nevertheless, social media in Nepal is now a potent medium for social activism, creating common ground for people to join causes together. It has expanded the horizons of Nepalis beyond our borders. In 2011 #occupywallstreet inspired Nepal’s #occupybaluwatar. The global #Metoo movement had an impact here as well.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/">Nepal’s changing media landscape</a>, Sharecast InitiativeBut in summary, overuse is easy and addiction has a serious downside. Arjun Dhakal of the online discussion group NNSD, an early proponent of the internet as a medium that democratised information concludes: "Addiction to Facebook has also affected activism for causes like environment or social justice. People now think that liking or sharing something on social media is enough, and they do not have to contribute in a more meaningful way to the cause. This is easy, but it is not organised and does not have an impact on bringing reform.”<h2>Getting out of Facebook</h2>You can either deactivate your Facebook account, or delete it. Deactivating means people cannot find you, and you can still come back and Facebook will have saved your content. Deleting is irreversible, but takes a few days for your page to stop appearing, and up to 90 days for FB to dump your content, but your messages will still remain.Deactivate<ol><li>Click on Account Menu at top right corner of Facebook page</li> <li>Select ‘Settings’</li> <li>Choose ‘General’</li> <li>Click ‘Manage your account’</li> <li>Press ‘Deactivate your account’ and confirm</li></ol>If you change your mind, you have to write to Facebook, and say sorry I changed my mind and I want back in. Log in Facebook using e-mail and password.First, download and store your content by:<ol><li>Click Account Menu at the top right</li> <li>Click ‘Download a copy of your Facebook data’</li> <li>Choose ‘Start My Archive’</li> <li>Store downloaded data.</li></ol>Then:<ol><li>Click down Arrow at the top right of any Facebook page.</li> <li>Click Settings.</li> <li>Click Your Facebook Information in the left column.</li> <li>Click Delete Your Account and Information, then click Delete My Account.</li> <li>Enter your password, click Continue and then click Delete Account.</li></ol><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a56e09c7e80680e0547acjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="563" height="446">Read also: <a style="letter-spacing: 0.15px; background-color: #ffffff;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/face-to-face-with-facebook/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Face-to-face with Facebook</a>, Nepali Times

So, you want to quit Facebook?

<figure><img width="1400" height="1042" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108111152/636a358d9c7e80680e0482b7jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nepal Media Survey 2019</figcaption></figure>When enumerators from Sharecast Initiative Nepal fanned out across the country in January, they asked more than 4,100 respondents if they had mobiles on them — 91% produced phones. Of these, half were smartphones. Eighty-eight percent of them said they used Facebook, and 45% were on Facebook Messenger, and 35% on IMO which uses less bandwidth, many to communicate with relatives and friends working in the Gulf.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=24696&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Facebook nation</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=24646&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepalis are drifting to digital media</a>, Madhu Acharya and Bhumiraj ChapagainInformation technology is changing Nepali society faster than many of us realise. It is rapidly transforming the ease and speed of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/landline-to-online/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">communication</a>, and where we get our news and information. The changed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/social-media-and-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">media</a> consumption pattern has created a crisis for Nepal’s mainstream media, which has found that the revenue model has collapsed. The subscription and paywall methods do not work, online advertising is limited and has low yield, and the Nepali Net has a long tail of new portals vying for the same ads. Four years ago, there were less than 4 million Nepalis with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/face-to-face-with-facebook/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Facebook</a> accounts, today it has more than doubled. In last year’s Sharecast survey, 81% of respondents who used the Internet said they used Facebook, that number has risen to 88%. Even usage of the Nepali app HamoPatro has increased from 1.3% last year to 4% in this year’s survey. Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=24724&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal is becoming a nation of net addicts</a>, Sabina Devkota Facebook is not only used to exchange holiday pictures among friends and relatives, it is also increasingly the main source of news and information about local, national and international happenings. As the results of the Sharecast survey in this edition show, it is a one-way street. Most Nepalis do not seem to post much local news on their walls. Also, while they use Facebook a lot, they do not seem to trust the content on the platform very much. The other surprising finding is that the most trusted source of news and information for most Nepalis is not the media at all, but their neighbours, friends and family. More than 64% of respondents said they relied on that network for local news, and one-third depended on acquaintances for even national and international news. Interestingly, Province 2 ranks highest for its dependence on family and friends as a source of news, with half the respondents saying they depend on them for news and information. YouTube use has soared dramatically from almost nothing last year to 34% in this year’s survey. The Facebook-owned platform Instagram is used by a much lower proportion (4.2%), although that increases among urban educated youth. Twitter usage is almost negligible (1.2%) even though the media fraternity and some politicians seems to think it is hugely important. In response to a multiple choice question, 99% of respondents said they do most of their Interneting on mobile phones. Only 6% of Nepalis use laptops or tablets to browse the Net, and less than 1% use PCs. As smartphones and mobile data packages get cheaper, Internet use is going to grow.  Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-nepals-media-landscape-is-being-transformed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's Changing Media Landscape</a>, Sharecast Initiative Today, about 60% of those who use the Internet on their phones have mobile data, 34% use wifi. Despite this, there is still a yawning digital divide: asked how often in the past six months they had used the Internet, 67% of 4,125 respondents said they had never logged on. Interesting also is the number of people who said they had not read a hard copy newspaper in the past six months – over 73%. And even more revealingly, when asked why they do not read physical newspapers, an overwhelming 57% said it was because the papers never got to their area, or delivery was unreliable. Only 3% said it was because they rely on some other medium for news and information. Mainstream media owners and editors blame the Internet for the loss in readership, but maybe they should be blaming their distribution departments. Of those who said they still follow the mainstream press, 94% were still reading the paper newspaper, 14% read it on apps, and 6.4% went to their home pages online. Nearly all survey respondents found newspapers and magazines trustworthy.  The take-home message from the survey for the Nepali media and public is that the mainstream press still has a check-and-balance role in our democracy. Internet usage is growing rapidly, but that is not the reason people are not reading newspapers less.  Facebook may be omnipresent, but most users are sceptical about its content. As in most countries, <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-new-reality-of-nepals-virtual-celebrities/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">social media</a> platforms will be dissemination tools, Internet sites will be more and more entertainment-driven, and it will be the portals with the higher credibility and exclusive multimedia content that will be rewarded with clicks. 10 years ago this week The page 1 item of the #446 edition of Nepali Times of 10-16 April 2009 delved into Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal’s thin skin for criticism: Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal appears to be increasingly frustrated with the delays and has been trying to use his deft negotiating skills to try to convince the leaders of the UML and NC to smooth things along.   The prime minister has been barely able to hide his frustration. A day after returning from a week-long visit to Norway and Finland, during which he assured leaders there that he was serious about protecting democracy and the free press, he lashed out publicly using abusive language at his colleagues in the NC and UML. The next day, he turned his aim at the media, accusing publishers of being “smugglers” and under the control of “feudalists, capitalists and reactionary forces”.

New news

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c9e29c7e80680e02f2d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"/><figcaption>Photo: Madhu Acharya</figcaption></figure>Some 4,145 respondents in 38 sample districts of all seven provinces were surveyed in January and February this year to measure their ownership of communication devices, mass media consumption patterns, and their views on the press itself.The exercise was undertaken by Sharecast Initiative Nepal, and the 2018 survey was the third in a series supported by multiple Nepali organisations. The study also explores most popular radio and tv programs and stations, and current trends in social media engagement and Internet usage.<h2>Sample distribution by districts</h2><iframe style="border: none;" title="02_Sample Districts and Sample Size" src="https://e.infogram.com/bebf9db3-8122-4a84-897a-0eed1961881f?src=embed" width="1024" height="769" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>Province 4 led the way with the highest mobile phone ownership (99%) with 64% of them being smartphones. The province, of which Pokhara is the capital, also had 38% of its people using the Internet daily.Mobile phones are by far the most common communication device in Nepal today with an overwhelming majority of 96% of respondents owning one at the household level, and individually they are owned by 90%. Of these, slightly more than half were smartphones, and only 18% of respondents said they used laptops, desktops or tablets at home.<iframe style="border: none;" title="Ownership of Media at Provincial level" src="https://e.infogram.com/25c1f655-576f-4465-b6f1-854a08f517dd?src=embed" width="1509" height="844" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>Among the 35% who have access to regular Internet, 98% respondents said they use mobile phone for Net access. Only 5.2% of respondents said they used laptops/tablets for the Internet whereas only 0.8% respondents used personal computers.Nearly three-fourths of those polled used mobile data to access Internet while only 19% said they had access to broadband Internet or WiFi at home.Easy access to mobile data, smart phone penetration along with competitive rate from telecom companies are attracting mobile users to access the Internet on their phones. Broadband Wi-Fi is still limited in urban affluent households.<iframe style="border: none;" title="Access to Media" src="https://e.infogram.com/31758454-5be6-4a5d-a59b-b3c743e087af?src=embed" width="842" height="670 " frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>Among Internet users, Facebook was the highest (81%) with Messenger, IMO, YouTube, Viber and Whatsapp trailing close behind. In the 16-24 age group, Facebook use was 86%. An estimated 8 million Nepalis are said to be on Facebook, and is popular with both literate as well as illiterate people.<iframe style="border: none;" title="Use of Internet" src="https://e.infogram.com/13a6565e-1bd4-412c-aef6-aad4dc3e29e2?src=embed" width="960" height="740" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>IMO is widely used to connect with relatives in Middle East where migrants are working in the highest numbers. Even though it has risky privacy issues, IMO works well even with low bandwidth. Media digital aggregator HamroPatro was the only Nepali application mentioned as a favourite by 1.3% Internet users.In the electronic media, tv has overtaken radio with 56% of households now owning tv sets with only 29% having traditional radio receivers at home.<iframe style="border: none;" title="Main source of News" src="https://e.infogram.com/d5e63668-3d55-4d91-a215-db60e4a5d34f?src=embed" width="940" height="788" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>Access to electricity, DTH and cable coupled with remittance savings, (one in three respondents had someone from the household working abroad) being used to buy tv monitors. Interestingly, 56% of respondents said they tuned in to FM radio on their phones.Press readership trails behind radio with only 21% of respondents saying they had been able to get hold of a hardcopy in the last six months. Among those readers, only 6% said they read a paper daily, relying on radio and tv for local, national and international news.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c9e69c7e80680e02f2d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1665" height="1082">Among the respondents, 35% said they had regular access to the Internet, with 24% of them using it daily. This finding contradicts the recent Nepal Telecom Authority data which is primarily based on the mobile simcard distribution and stated that 63% of Nepal’s population had Internet access.One of the most interesting findings of this survey was in answers to the question about which source of news were most reliable. About a third said they trusted tv and radio, however only 3% trusted newspapers and less than 2% found information on the Internet to be reliable. Many found neighbours to be much more trustworthy than the information available online.<iframe style="border: none;" title="Reliable Source of News" src="https://e.infogram.com/af89e92d-c60d-45d5-9b3b-e57935e1ff01?src=embed" width="960" height="720" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>Unlike India and other countries in the region, the big chunk of people watching Nepali tv channels do so for news (85%) followed by entertainment (43%). When asked why, a majority said they did not find Nepali entertainment programs particularly appropriate.An overwhelming 86% of tv viewers watch programs in the evenings, and more women watch television than men in the evenings. The men watch more tv in the mornings. This is true across variables such as age, province, ecological regions, caste, education and occupation.<iframe style="border: none;" title="TV Source" src="https://e.infogram.com/da1c38bf-2c7b-4c8e-ba46-e93ae54d8394?src=embed" width="960" height="720" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>Of tv users 35% of households have local cable without setup box, and 33% are hooked up to Nepal’s only direct to home (DTH) company. The remaining 32% use local setup boxes, illegal Indian DTH as well as digital tv providers. This scenario is expected to change with the government’s new policy for cable companies to digitise tv sources.Survey lead and analysis:Madhu Acharya,Bhumiraj ChapagainStatistics and methodology:Balkrishna Khadka<a href="http://www.sharecast.org.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">www.sharecast.org.np</a><h1>How the survey was done</h1><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c9e99c7e80680e02f2dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024">Interviews were conducted with 4,145 respondents in 38 sample districts over seven provinces in January-February 2018.There is an error margin of 1.52% at 95%. The 77 districts were sample frame stratified by Provinces. The primary sampling unit was the district, with 198 sample wards selected from the 38 districts. Sample households (21) were selected using random walk methods.

Nepal's changing media landscape

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

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

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

SLAPPing Democracy

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

Water for Life

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

messenger