<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

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From letters to landlines, phones to Facebook

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDzDf8n-eSYKarvika Thapa was living the American dream in Boston with a promising career in the Information Technology sector. But after 14 years she decided to head back home to Nepal with her husband and two young daughters.During the three years since, she has worked hard to establish a successful international software company, Kimbu Tech, one of the very few women-led IT startups in Nepal.“At first, it was nerve-wracking, but I was excited to give back what I owed to my country where I grew up,” says the 40-year-old Karvika. “I also wanted my daughters to learn Nepali culture.”Starting a company was not at the top of her mind when she returned to Kathmandu, but when she found that there were so few women in Nepal’s IT sector, Karvika decided to take the risk and work to create quality jobs, especially for women in a male-dominated industry.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/staying-in-nepal-to-create-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Staying in Nepal to create jobs</a>, Naresh NewarKarvika had been one of the handful of female students in the first year of Kathmandu College of Management’s bachelor’s program in information systems. She then went to the US for her MBA and stayed on to work, over the course of her years there, in IT solutions, data management, database marketing and campaigns in education, healthcare, and retail.Today, she leads a quality team of Nepali women and men who provide software development and maintenance for companies in Israel and the US. Karvika hopes that their work will help create a home for qualified and talented programmers in Nepal and that that in turn will build recognition globally for Nepali programmers.There are a few other companies working in IT and Artificial Intelligence in Nepal, and the sector has great potential as an employment generator. But Nepal’s talent pool of skilled programmers is still a well-kept secret in the IT world.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70b29c7e80680e060090jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1188"/><figcaption>Photo : NARESH NEWAR</figcaption></figure>Read also: Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding, Naresh Newar“We have very professional young Nepalis working on some of the world’s most innovative animation and block chain projects. They have also worked on Disney movies while still based in Nepal, so there is no shortage of talent here” said Karvika.Although Karvika got her degree and worked abroad, she has learnt from experience that it is not necessary to have an IT degree to get into programming or coding. Students can enter the tech business with an arts or any other degree, and neither do Nepalis have to go abroad to find such jobs. Karvika’s company has been providing software and programming training in order to create more programmers and has been working with the Robotics Association of Nepal to provide scholarships to encourage young women.Read also: Rupesh's epic journey, Naresh Newar“My dream is to see women not just become IT experts and programmers but also take a leadership role in this field,” said Karvika, who wants also to change the mindsets of parents, who are so keen on sending their children abroad for better education and jobs. She says times have changed, and it is possible to do as well right here in Nepal, especially in the tech sector.There is high demand for programmers globally and Nepal should prepare itself to ride this wave. There are many international companies trying to set up shop here and build our IT industry, but for this to happen the government needs to step in and take advantage of the opportunity, explains Karvika. She gives the example of Bangladesh, which until a few years ago was not known for tech, but where the industry is now booming.Asked about her most rewarding experience after returning to Nepal, Karvika says it was when her company signed a contract with an international client. She said: “We had worked hard to get the project, and when we got it we realised we had put Nepal on the global map. It was amazing not just for our company but also for the country, for being internationally recognised.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/lighting-up-her-darkness/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Lighting up her darkness</a>, Naresh Newar

Returning to Nepal has its rewards

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70439c7e80680e06006cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photos : JOSIE WANG</figcaption></figure>Standing in his field on the outskirts of Pokhara and below the dazzling snows of the Annapurna mountains, Xiang Shaohua points to peach saplings in his orchard.The seedlings were sent to him by his son and daughter who are studying back home in China. And just like Xiang himself, the peach are striking roots in Nepal’s soil.Xiang first came to Nepal 10 years ago as a tourist, travelled to Pokhara and was so mesmerised by the place and people here that he never left.Today, he rents 2 hectares of farm and is growing lettuce, cauliflower and fruits commercially to sell to the market and restaurants in the lakeside tourist town. He also works as a subcontractor at Pokhara airport, and at other infrastructure projects.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/miyahara-san-a-life-devoted-to-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Miyahara-san: a life devoted to Nepal,</a> Kunda Dixit“In the beginning, it was only supposed to be for three years, and if it did not work out, I planned to go back to China,” Xiang recalls. “It has not all been smooth sailing, but it has been worth it.”Xiang now has his father and wife helping out at the farm. The fact that he came from a farming family back in Sichuan where the climate and soil are similar to Nepal, has been helpful.Xiang says his most challenging period was during the 2015 blockade, when supplies were scarce. He felt like quitting, but realised he had greater responsibilities.“Actually, I could have left, but that would have meant that my Nepali employees would be out of their jobs,” recalls 32-year-old Xiang, who speaks Nepali with a distinct Pokhara lilt and considers himself “half Nepali”. Everyone here knows him by his Nepali nickname, Sandesh, and some call him China’s “non-governmental ambassador” to Nepal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">From Liz Hawley in Kathmandu</a>, Kunda DixitHis Nepali side was heartbroken to see the destruction after <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/photos-nepal-earthquake-2015,2207" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the 2015 earthquake</a>, and reminded him of the deadly Sichuan earthquake of 2008. He and some other Chinese from Pokhara set up a rescue team and headed off to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/11/26/winter-emergency-for-quake-survivors/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gorkha</a> to dig among the ruins with their bare hands and shovels to rescue people.While tens of thousands of youth from Pokhara have migrated to the Gulf or Malaysia for work, Xiang is proof that there is plenty to do in Nepal itself, and it is possible to prosper if one is prepared for hard work.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b70469c7e80680e06006djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">“Farming is very labour intensive, and I notice that most educated young Nepalis are unwilling to do it,” says Xiang, who recalls the first time he came to Pokhara and noticed that farm productivity could be easily improved. That is when he saw an opportunity to put some of his own farming experience to good use, and stayed. Now, Xiang regards Nepal as his second home, and his Nepali neighbours regard the cheerful Nepali-speaking Chinese as a Nepali too.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/goodbye-jan-and-christine-2018/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Goodbye Jan and Christine</a>“I know Nepal. I know what Nepalis need. At the same time, I can communicate with Chinese enterprises to know what they want, and I can be a good go-between,” says Xiang.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokhara-nepals-new-aviation-gateway/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">With the new airport</a>, and Chinese contractors working on various hydropower projects in Central Nepal, Xiang sees lots of opportunity for mutual learning between Nepali and Chinese people.Xiang is not interested in making the quick buck, and says: “I would rather do something I like doing even if I do not make money for a while.”Farming is not that profitable, but it is a passion and he enjoys growing food among people he likes, and in a land he calls his second home.In his office, a poster on the wall in Mandarin characters says: ‘Remain true to your aspiration’. Xiang appears to follow his motto to the letter. And as he starts his second decade in Nepal, Xiang wants to make the best of his life in Pokhara.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4163#.XhbhGVUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">We'll stay</a>, Ramyata Limbu

Chinese farmer strikes roots in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101116/636b704a9c7e80680e06006ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="986"/><figcaption>Photo : SHANKAR DAHAL</figcaption></figure>Labour migration touches every Nepali in one way or another. The pain of departure at the airport, the joy of reunion. Aspirations drive us to move to wherever we get more credit, recognition or money.The confidence with which a person fastens the seat-belt on a plane reveals whether Doha is the final destination or just a place of transit – and that determines treatment by flight attendants. Regardless of the differences in where, why and how we move, we are all aspiring for a better shot at life.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/back-to-nepal-for-good/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Back to Nepal for good?</a>, Upasana Khadka<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/for-nepals-migrant-workers-good-news-in-small-bites/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">For Nepal's migrant workers, good news in small bites</a>, Upasana KhadkaThe migrant industry has evolved: the private sector has seen an opportunity for arbitrage, the government tries to regulate it with policies, and the media, human rights organisations and non-profits are story-tellers, watchdogs and advocates.Platforms like the Global Compact for Migration and the Sustainable Development Goals advocate a ‘whole-of-society’ approach where different stakeholders will work collectively to advance the goals of good migration.We have come a long way, but we need to see more tangible impact. The discussion has to move from what should be to where we actually are. The chasm between de-jure and de-facto in the foreign employment industry is so wide that it is easy to fall between the cracks.Everyone is quick to point out that zero-cost migration is not happening. There is public litigation and there are supreme court orders. We hold rallies and conferences and we write about the issue. There are random surveys at airports that seek to find out what workers are paying. And guess what, it is not zero.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/greens-from-nepal-in-qatars-desert/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Greens from Nepal in Qatar’s desert</a>, Upasana KhadkaWhile this attention is necessary to keep the debate alive, the focus of our discourse should now shift from ‘if’ it can be implemented to ‘why’ it has not been, and ‘how’ it can be enforced.Workers are willing to pay. Let’s start there. They are convinced there is a brighter future waiting for them. If you take me to America, I will pay you $40,000. If you get me a janitor job in West Asia, I will pay $1,500. If you find me a security guard or driver job, I may pay you $5,000.The cases that end up coming to the notice of authorities are those in which there is no job in return for the money spent. By the time this becomes clear, it is too late because the worker does not have proof of the transaction. On the flipside, after the provision in the Malaysia-Nepal MOU requiring employers to pay for visa and ticket, Malaysian companies are reportedly lamenting that it is too expensive to hire Nepalis. Let that sink in: a profit-driven industry in Malaysia is complaining about losing competitiveness after having to bear the costs that had otherwise been borne by a poor worker himself.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-workers-football/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The workers’ football</a>, Upasana Khadka<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/irresistible-forces-wage-differentials-and-demographic-trends/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Irresistible forces: wage differential and demographic trends</a>, Upasana KhadkaThe recruiters are taking advantage of the absolute desperation of workers for a better life. They know their role is indispensable and that it will remain so. When one worker is charged in exchange for a promised job, it costs $1,000. If one considers that every one of the 4 million workers mobilised in the last decade paid this amount, the total is astronomical. There is also double dipping: with employers paying for the same placement.With that kind of money floating around, decisions on political careers and diplomatic postings can be swayed. To flourish in the foreign employment sector in Nepal Labour Ministers or bureaucrats have to be willing participants in sharing the loot, or complacent and indifferent.  Anything else, and you are out.Despite all this, a comparative study on recruitment costs borne by workers from Bangladesh or Pakistan are at least three to four-fold more than what a Nepali worker pays. If there are positive ways to reduce costs based on practical lessons, those should drive our narrative and not just de jure principles. Research and advocacy should focus on identifying the few employers who are actually willing to participate in the zero-cost scheme, like the Responsible Business Alliance-affiliated employers in Malaysia.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/shared-stories-shattered-dreams/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shared stories, shattered dreams of South Asian migrant workers</a>, Sonia AwaleThe driving force for this may very well be pressure on the employer from due diligence imposed by headquarters in Europe and America, and not concern for the worker. Recent surprise raids by the Department of Foreign Employment (DOFE) in response to worker complaints seem promising. But how much longer before the current Director General of DOFE is seen as a threat and is transferred? What can be done to instill fear among the 850 plus recruiters in Kathmandu that such raids are not an exception but the rule? How can recent bilateral agreements for zero-cost migration be operationalised?What we need now is what scholars call ‘labour market realism’, that implementation needs to begin from labour market realities rather than ideals and principles. Our efforts are inadequate if we limit ourselves to finding out from a handful of workers that they are paying, or if we continue to inform a handful of potential workers that they should not be paying, knowing very well that the minute they are in the clutches of the recruiter, they will pay.Upasana Khadka writes this column Labour Mobility every month in Nepali Times analysing trends affecting Nepal's workers abroad.

Why has zero-cost migration not happened?

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151124/636a66be9c7e80680e0599a0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: OM ASTHA RAI</figcaption></figure>In many parts of the world the ratio of the working age group to the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/need-to-prepare-for-ageing-society,3624" target="_blank" rel="noopener">elderly population</a> is on a decline. By 2050, OECD countries will lose more than 82 million workers, and gain 96 million elderly individuals.In contrast, developing countries are experiencing a youth bulge including Nepal which is in the midst of a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/editorial-reaping-demographic-dividend,3621" target="_blank" rel="noopener">demographic window of opportunity</a> expected to last till 2047. Over 500,000 Nepali youth enter the labour market annually, not all of whom can be absorbed, increasing the pressure to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-lottery-of-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">migrate for work</a>."In order for labour migration to be an industry for good, it has to be a good industry," said Oxford University professor Lant Pritchett at a recent lecture in Kathmandu. The irony of it was that the remarks came a week after <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/blood-sweat-and-tears/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Labour Minister Gokarna Bista was ousted</a> for trying to push worker-friendly reforms by targeting the illicit profit-making.Pritchett highlighted two aspects of the global economy that make labour mobility “a simply irresistible" force of the future: demographic trends and wage differentials. Pritchett and his colleagues came up with the concept of ‘place premium’: persistent wage differences for workers with the same productivity across borders, adjusted for the cost of living.The impact of these two factors is being felt in Nepal. In April 2019, the Nepal government signed an agreement with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Japan</a>, a country with a severely ageing population to mobilise workers in 14 sectors under the Specified Skilled Worker visa category. If selected, Nepali workers will receive equal pay for equal work, which means the income gains of moving will be orders of magnitude.However, such a win-win outcome has not always been realised in practice.  When a few months of salaries of a 24-month contract period is spent on repaying loans and interests, the wage differential that drove the decision to move can be muted.Furthermore, migration in Nepal has also entailed giving up basic rights including freedom of movement and access to justice. The economic ‘place premium’ has almost always been accompanied by a rights ‘place cost’.  Stories of abuse, discrimination and inadequate labour protection abroad have shaped a more cautious migration discourse in Nepal despite its <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/doubts-on-zero-cost-migration-deal-coming-into-force,2157" target="_blank" rel="noopener">high dependence on remittances</a>.The emphasis on addressing <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">malpractices in recruitment and employment of migrant workers</a> is warranted, but Nepal must also be forward looking and  take advantage of potential opportunities opening up in Europe and other ageing societies.Pritchett predicts we are entering a never before demographic era in which the narrative in many ageing societies will change from ‘how do we find jobs for workers?’ to ‘how do we find workers for jobs’? Temporary labour market programs can ease the qualms of receiving countries that fear immigration, and sending countries worried about losing their productive workforce.Nepal needs more active labour diplomacy, especially in Europe, to benefit from these opportunities. Nepalis need skills for jobs of the future such as in hospitality and care that meet international standards and are less susceptible to automation is needed.Private intermediaries here undercut competition for labour by compromising on wages and hiking up recruitment costs. If this is not addressed early on as newer job markets emerge, we can expect recruitment costs for the new destination markets to be significantly higher than now. The recruitment cost demanded by intermediaries at their discretion and the workers' willingness to pay for such jobs out of desperation are also often tied to the attractiveness of the job and location. This would again bring a big dent in the place premium.Better migration opportunities should not be considered to be at odds with national development priorities. Research shows that economic development and emigration follow an inverted-U pattern, with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-certificate/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">emigration</a> rising with economic development until countries reach upper-middle income levels.The latest Labour Force Survey estimates that over 35% of Nepali youth (ages 15 to 24) is not in employment, education or training, while the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/young-educated-unemployed,664" target="_blank" rel="noopener">unemployment rate</a> of this age group is over 21%. The costs of staying are not negligible if the stayers do not have access to meaningful jobs.Not giving those who want to migrate legal avenues means irregular channels of migration will flourish and the workers will <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank" rel="noopener">put themselves at risk knowingly or unknowingly</a>, especially in the face of the two ‘irresistible forces’.

Irresistible forces: wage differentials and demographic trends

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a64fd9c7e80680e059908jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="978"/><figcaption>A guest is welcomed at the Ayodhyapuri homestay cooperative located in the Chitwan National Park buffer zone. Photo : WWF</figcaption></figure>Hari Bahadur Pun from Madi Valley in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/how-chitwan-was-opened,4159" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chitwan</a> returned from Malaysia three years ago, and has been running his own homestay since then. He is thankful he made that decision, and spends his day welcoming guests into his home.“The rooms are never empty because guests keep coming and I spend my time taking care of them. This is great work for myself, and good income for the village."The boundary of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/More-trouble-in-Chitwan-National-Park,2956" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chitwan National Park</a> is 1km north of Ayodhyapuri village and the Indian border is to the south. An ongoing problem in the village is wild animals from the park raiding crops, which is why most young people here migrated overseas for employment.But today, homestays have given jobs  to villagers. The guests are visitors from Nepal and abroad attracted by the rustic lifestyle, and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Conservation-and-tourism-Chitwan-National-Park,2957" target="_blank" rel="noopener">wildlife tourism</a> in Chitwan.Ward Chief Krishna Raj Adhikari says there is no shortage of guests, especially from October to May. Bookings need to be made by July, or visitors won’t find a room. Says homestay operator Om Bahadur Pun Magar, “Many times, we have had to send tourists to hotels after serving them meals but we don’t like it when we have to do that. It spoils the whole homestay experience.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a65009c7e80680e059909jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="392" height="500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Many people from the area who had migrated abroad for work have returned to open their own homestays, attracted by the income that can be made in their own houses. Many earn about Rs35,000 per month. The benefits go beyond individual homes. Previously there was no electricity in area villages, and streets were filled with mud during the monsoon and dust in winter. Today, roads are paved, and in the evenings the villages light up because of new solar-powered street lamps.The locals are less dependent on Chitwan National Park as well. “Before the homestay was established, everyone owned cows and buffaloes, and when we went into the jungle for grass we used to have run-ins with army rangers guarding the park,” says Som Maya Pun. “Now, people have stopped raising livestock or stall-feed them, and are busy with running their homestays.”The homestays have also allowed locals to reconnect with their culture. Years ago,Dambar Bahadur Pun, who migrated here from his home in Myagdi in the mountains, joined the Indian Army like many of his forebears. He used to return home every year for 45 days of vacation, travelling from Raxaul through Sauraha. But that trip took at least a month. Tired of spending most of his holiday travelling, he moved to Ayodhyapuri, which is just three hours from his Indian Army base.“We didn’t know much about our culture because we had not seen much of it,” says Khil Bahadur Pun, also from Myagdi. “But after we started our homestay, everyone was interested in the Magar culture again. We reconnected with our roots, and discovered our songs, dances and festivals.”To perform for guests, locals learnt Maruni and Soreti, traditional Magar dances. Now a ‘cultural home’ has been set up so homestay visitors can gather for performances.Supporting homestays can be a way of helping not only local economies but also conservation. People who live near national parks like Chitwan are often poor and rely on farming and livestock. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/more-rhinos-means-more-encounter,4045" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Wild animals put livelihoods at risk</a>. But by providing income from tourism, national parks can ease the burdens on those living around them.Through the Tarai Arc Landscape program, the Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF) Nepal supported buffer zone communities to set up homestays, and the Madi cooperative is one of them. The 13 houses have hosted 11,000 visitors in the last three years, and the homestays are marketed by the adventure travel company Intrepid Travel.Tul Bahadur Pun Magar, the secretary of the cooperative and operator of one of the homestays, himself used to work as a driver and a construction supervisor in Bahrain, earning Rs70,000 a month. He is happy to be back near nature, and planning for the future.“Through the homestays, we have learned to live with wild animals. Our guests love to see them and we have realised that they are precious,” he says. With the 13 homestays fairly well-established, Pun Magar has plans to create a bird sanctuary near his village.Many operators of Ayodhyapuri’s homestays are women, who have been empowered by the income and exposure. “We never used to deal with people from outside the household,” says homestay operator Sharmila Rai. “Now we feel confident  engaging with anyone.”While only a few of Ayodhyapuri’s households host homestays, they generate income beyond lodging fees. All vegetables needed for feeding tourists is grown organically in the village, dairy products are made locally, and the fish and poultry are also raised by the village.The growth of economic disparities within the village is a problem faced by homestay programs, particularly in places where for reasons of caste, there is already a socio-economic gap. In Ayodhyapuri, at least, the distribution of income-generating activities as well as the limit of one homestay per operator, seems to be keeping these disparities in check.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=37172&amp;preview_nonce=98944df42f&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepalis open doors to a better life,</a> Sanghamitra Subba<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/migrant-worker-finds-farming-in-nepal-more-rewarding/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Migrant worker finds farming in Nepal more rewarding</a>, Naresh Newar<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/no-need-to-migrate-for-work/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">No need to migrate for work</a>, Nepali Times

Homestays keep former migrants in Nepal

<img width="2480" height="1753" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141148/636a5edf9c7e80680e056df2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Vidyadutt Sharma, 83, stands in front of his blue-tinted two storey home, looking out into a 360 panorama of the Himalayan mountains. This is Moti Bagh, Sharma’s farm in Pauri district of the Indian state of Uttarakhand. Tall, with an aquiline nose, white hair cropped close to his scalp and rugged features, weathered by work in the farm, Sharma in kurta pyjama and vest, points to the abandoned homes and locked gates. These are the ‘ghost villages’ where inhabitants have migrated permanently. “The mountains are dying,” says Sharma, who worked for the state government and resigned when he was 28. There is a photo of him with a fierce beard, which he grew in protest to get high school status for the village school. Now, it is an Inter College, he says proudly. Another family photo with his wife and four children, two daughters and two sons, one who died young. His wife died in 2000. “She kept us all together and whatever status I have today is because of her,” he says. Sharma (pictured right) ploughs his land with oxen, plants seeds, hauls his own water and chops wood. He sings while sowing seeds of monkeys and langoors who pick and destroy the crops, the wild boars, cows, parrots, jackals, porcupines. In 2019 Sharma’s record breaking 22.75 kg radish won a national award and made him famous. Cooking a vegetable dish over a wood fire he says ‘upper’ caste people have left the villages and abandoned farming. The ‘lower’ castes do all the work. With the demise of farming, producers are now consumers, people want to work with the mind, not hands, scared of physical labour, he says.“It’s easy to write books, but the challenge is to make a tomato seed grow,” Sharma adds.Consolidated fragmented farms would make agriculture more productive. The farms were rainfed, and when in 1976 Sharma started rainwater harvesting the villagers laughed at him. <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141148/636a5ee29c7e80680e056df3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="2000">Pauri town is 35 kilometres from Moti Bagh and built up in concrete like most hill towns. Tribhuvan Uniyal, Sharma’s journalist son, lives here with his wife and two children. Will they farm? His daughter wants to do fashion design. In a trip to Pauri town to meet the Regional Transport Officer (RTO), Sharma protests about the re-routing of buses in their village. The bus contractor tells the RTO on the phone that there are not enough passengers on rural routes anymore. Get the buses back on the usual routes, orders the RTO. With locals having migrated, most farmhands here are from Nepal. Helping Sharma on his farm is Ram Singh, who came here from western Nepal 18 years ago and never left. He is happy the children got to go to school, he has savings to send back to the larger family back home.“Locals are jealous of me,” Ram Singh says with a toothy smile. When he first came, he and his family were called names and told to go back to Nepal. Now, he says, he is accepted. “I will have to return to Nepal one day or, maybe we will be made to go back,” he says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141148/636a5ee69c7e80680e056df4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="1280">Director Nirmal Chander Dandriyal (pictured left) is himself from Uttarakhand and his sensitivity to his protagonists shines through the film. He was born in Chennai, but began travelling to Uttarakhand more frequently around 2011. Seeing migration as a central issue interconnected to others, he felt it could be a theme for a film. But, how to tell the story?  Migration was not a new issue. But while it is seasonal in other states, in Uttarakhand it is permanent.So, Moti Bagh became the location, a microcosm to the big picture. The story unfolds through the characters, without hectoring, lecturing, or a voice over of gloom and doom. The characters in the film are fresh and rooted in the environment. Supported by India’s Public Broadcasting Service Trust (PBST) and Prasar Bharati, Chander was able to shoot in different seasons, various stages of cultivation, and events such as marriages and wildfires. Chander’s rhythms changed and informed the way he shot. He let it flow. The cycles and pace of life quietened him. He found peace.Moti Bagh has been picked as an entry for the oscars and will be screened at the South Asian Documentary Film Festival in November in Kathmandu.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHfTKPUBY1gMoti Bagh, 201960 minHindi

Moti Bagh

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a57449c7e80680e0547d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="934"/><figcaption>Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>As hundreds of thousands of Nepali youngsters leave the country in search of greener pastures, a trickle have started to return with the intention of contributing what they can for the country. Karma Tamang, 43, is one of them, recently moving base from Germany to Nepal after two decades in Europe.Tamang is soft spoken, articulate and highly educated, not traits one normally associates with Nepal’s politicians. But that is what she wants to be: her passion for politics has led her home, leaving behind a husband and two teenage children.Tamang’s father was a driver in Kavre, before the family shifted to Kathmandu for his four children. After completing high school from St Xavier’s College, a German friend helped Karma go to Germany for higher education in 1995.She graduated in computer science at the University of Kiel, the first person in her family to attain a degree. She married a German man in 2003, had two children and worked in an IT firm. One day, she decided to quit and return to Nepal to become a politician.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-scientist-returns-to-pinpoint-hazards-of-dirty-air/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali scientist returns to pinpoint hazards of dirty air</a>, Sonia Awale“I always knew that I would come back to Nepal, that was a part of the deal with my husband,” Tamang tells us. “I would have returned earlier, but my children were young and there was a war going on. Now is the right time: the children can take care of themselves, I am at the peak of productivity in life, when I can give my best.”Tamang is busy renovating her house and looking for a school for the children. They have given their wholehearted support for their mother’s move. And she wants them to live in Nepal for a year before they decide where to go next.But why politics? Like many of her generation, Tamang felt disillusioned with governance failure in Nepal, and wanted to see politics here driven by values.“Mainstream political parties in Nepal have the right intention and ideologies, but the wrong approach,” she says. “We have democracy but we need to work to make it sustainable, with the right practical approach. We need to practise value-based politics. Empowerment of women and youth, and use of technology is central to this idea.”Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/editorial-alternative-current,3860" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Alternative current</a>, EditorialTamang joined the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Between-the-lines/Bibeksheel-Nepali-work-post-earthquake-nepal,490" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bibeksheel Nepali party</a> soon after it was founded in 2012 by a group of idealistic young Nepalis, offering an alternative to the established parties. She recruited members in Europe, and now wants to run for a post in the party’s central committee and eventually contest legislative elections. Tamang wants to ultimately work on IT policy in Parliament.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Not-this-dog-day,936" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bibeksheel Nepali did not win any seats</a> in the 2017 federal election and 2 of 110 seats in the provinces. But that does not deter Tamang: “The party has long-term vision, we dream of being in leadership in the next 15 years. For now, we want to make people more aware of work ethics, value-based politics, and management.”Tamang is now working on a PhD on non-violent movements and is unfazed about her lack of practical experience in Nepal and the prospect of confronting men entrenched in government. She says: “By now, we know that power corrupts. The Nepali people’s hopes for politics of values have been dashed by every party that has ruled. To avoid that, we need checks and balances, which will ensure that politicians and parties remain true to their ideals.”For someone who has lived outside Nepal for so long, Tamang speaks Nepali fluently and naturally, but she has picked up some European ways. She finds order and coordination missing in Nepal, specifically in politics. “I know it is going to be a big challenge for me. People here may expect me to work in the same laid-back style, but I am here to change things, even if it is difficult.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Connecting-dots/Nepali-needs-alternative-politics,966" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Influencing the influencers</a>, Dinkar Nepal

Karma’s karma

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131156/636a52889c7e80680e0522ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="938"/><figcaption>Pic: Kantipur</figcaption></figure>Hom Karki in Kantipur, 29 JulyThe Nepal Government banned labour permits aiming to block women from going abroad as domestic workers without actually meeting any women in that role. Though members of the International Relations and Labour Committee of Parliament visited Gulf countries, they only met some of the women at Nepal's embassies.The government stopped issuing work permits for domestic workers on the committee’s recommendation, which impacted hundreds of thousands of men and women already working as domestic help in the Gulf.About 139,000 domestic workers abroad have not returned to Nepal in the past 2.5 years, because they are afraid of losing their livelihoods. Those who have returned have not been able to go back because of the ban. They have asked the committee to revise the decision. The National Human Rights Commission has also said the decision is not fair.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30809&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Heat is killing us</a>, Sonia AwaleThe seven-member parliamentary committee, led by Prabhu Sah, visited Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar and UAE in March 2017. On 2 April, it directed the government to ban domestic workers going to Gulf countries. Ashok Kumar Mandal, Premkishor Shah Teli, Binod Shrestha, Radhadevi Timilsina, Rajya Lakshmi Shrestha and Lalit Kumar Shrestha were the other members of the Committee. They reached Saudi Arabia on 18 March, and met 24 women migrant workers who had taken refuge at the embassy in Riyadh after being taken there from Kuwait.The committee met Saudi Arabia’s Labour Minister Ali Bin Naseer Ghafis, and held discussions with the Nepali community in Riyadh and Dammam. According to the report, the discussions were attended by Nepali businesspersons in Saudi Arabia and agents of recruitment companies.Nepalis working as farm hands, cooks and drivers — classified as domestic workers — were not invited to the discussions. “I have been working in Saudi Arabian farms for the past 15 years. I earn 1,500 riyal (almost Rs15,000) a month,” Umesh Raya from Rautahat says. “Everything is going good for me, except that if I go back home on holidays, I cannot come back here. What did the parliamentarians see when they were here? Who did they meet and how did they come to that decision?”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30810&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Labour pains</a>, EditorialThe committee went to Kuwait after four days, and did not meet any domestic workers there, either. The government issued 19,564 permits for domestic workers in Kuwait, while the committee met 25 women who were about to be deported back to Nepal.“I have been working as a security guard for the past eight years. On paper, that counts as a domestic worker, too. We are not able to leave this job and go back home,” says Ramesh Gurung of Nawalparasi. “The committee made its decision based on the accounts of people abused and mistreated who it met at the embassy. It assumed that everyone in Kuwait is going through the same plight, and this has created hassles for us.”The committee members then headed to Qatar, where they visited the Qatar Maid Service, a company run by a Nepali that employs mostly Nepali women workers. There, the women told the committee that they were paid less than Filipinas who did the same work.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30845&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dignity in life and Death</a>, Sonia AwaleMore men than women work as domestic help in Qatar, most of them in camel racing. But the committee did not meet any Nepalis working with camels. “It’s a little difficult to work in camel races,” says Umesh Karki, who has been working in the Sahaniya region for the past 17 years. “My boss is good. I earn Rs40,000 every month, and my food is paid for. But why was the labour permit banned? My wife and children keep calling me back home. But I cannot leave everything behind and go home.”In UAE, the parliamentarians were told that Nepali workers had started coming to the country through legal channels, and the committee was advised to let this continue. There are 130 legal domestic workers in UAE, and they face no problems since the laws there are designed to protect the rights of home workers.There is one Nepali couple who both work for an Emirati employer. “I drive for my boss while my wife is a domestic worker,” says Raju Bhattarai of Gulmi. “We have not been able to return home.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=30850&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">His last journey home to Nepal</a>, Shankar Dahal

Migrants abroad left in lurch

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ed59c7e80680e04fcd8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="896"/><figcaption>FLASHBACK: Nepal’s Labour Minister Tek Bahadur Gurung met with Malaysian Home Minister Ahmad Zahid Hamidi (left) in Kuala Lumpur in 2015, agreeing on letting private Malysian and Nepali companies to process visas for Nepali workers.</figcaption></figure>The Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission began prosecution this week against Malaysia’s former Deputy Prime Minister and Internal Affairs Minister, Ahmad Zahid Hamidi, for charges against corruption related to migrant labour.Hamidi was arrested on 24 June and released on bail after being charged with 33 crimes, including one that claims he took more than 42 million Malaysian Ringgit (more than $10 million), as a bribe for letting the Malaysian company, Ultra Kirana, become a One Stop Center (OSC) for visa processing and labour migration. If these allegations are proven, Hamidi could face a jail sentence of up to 20 years.Hamidi was named in a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">joint investigation conducted by Nepali Times and Malaysiakini</a> last year in a Rs1.9 billion scam that cheated tens of thousands of poor Nepalis between 2013-17 who were migrating to work in Malaysia.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kleptocrats of Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur</a>, Ramu Sapkota with Alyaa Alhadjri Ultra Kirana, the company accused of bribing Hamidi, represents Malaysia’s VLN company in Nepal, that processes the visa applications of Nepali migrant workers going to Malaysia. VLN Nepal used to collect illegal fees from labourers and send the money to Ultra Kirana through informal channels.Since the investigation was published, the government in Malaysia changed after elections, and both countries banned the Nepali workers going to Malaysia pending an inquiry. Nepal Labour Minister Gokarna Bista promised to clean up the racket and make it fee-free for Nepalis wanting to work in Malaysia. The ban has still not been lifted.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/malaysia-wants-ban-lifted/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Malaysia wants ban lifted</a><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ed99c7e80680e04fcd9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Malaysia, investigations on Prime Minister Najib Razak’s government began after a new government was formed under Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad following the general elections in 2018. Hamidi, who was the Internal Affairs Minister in Razak’s administration, was arrested for the first time in October 2018 by Malaysia’s Anti-Corruption Commission.He was charged with acquiring at least 114 million Ringgit ($2.6 million) through illegal means, and 45 cases were filed at the High Court, including 27 cases of money laundering, 10 of breach of trust, and 8 for accepting bribes.Among the charges of bribery was one that alleged that he accepted more than $3 million from three companies including Profound Radiance, which used to collect the passports of Nepali workers and take them to the Malaysian Embassy in Kathmandu. The charge sheet mentions that Hamidi accepted a total of three bank cheques worth 2 million Ringgit ($300,000) from Ajlan Shah Jafril, the Director of Profound Radiance.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/disproportionate-number-of-deaths-of-Nepali-workers-in-Malaysia,2812" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dying to work in Malaysia</a>, Sonia AwaleMalaysia’s Home Minister Ahmad Zahid Hamidi met Nepal’s then Labour Minister Tek Bahadur Gurung in 2015 and outsourced the work to Ultra Kirana Sdn Bhd which required Nepali migrant workers to apply for work visas through the Kathmandu-based affiliate, Malaysia VLN Nepal. The agency charged Rs3,200 from every Malaysia-bound Nepali worker, and collected Rs1.95 billion from more than 600,000 workers between September 2013 and April 2018.Then in July 2015, Malaysia made it mandatory for all Nepali migrants to undergo a biometric test for which the Malaysian government hired Bestinet Sdn Bhd, a tech firm run by Hamidi’s brother-in-law Amin Bin Abdul Nor. Hamidi’s brother Abdul Hakim Hamidi and ex-Malaysian Environment Minister Ajmi Khalid also reportedly owned shares in Bestinet.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nepali-migrants-hounded-out-Malaysia-,3036" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hounded out of Malaysia</a>, Om Astha RaiBestinet partnered with Nepal Health Professional Federation (NHPF) to carry out biometric screening through 39 medical centres which charged Rs4,500 from each migrant worker for biometrics. Bestinet denied the allegations, and in a statement published in July 2018, they hinted that it could take legal action against Nepali Times and the reporters.Previously, migrant workers could apply for visas independently or through a manpower agency. They could get a work visa for just Rs700, and could have medical tests done at any of 200 government-approved health facilities.In Nepal, the Ministry of Labour, Employment and Social Security started prosecuting the company that charged migrant labourers extra fees. Since then, Nepali workers were stopped from going to Malaysia even though the two governments <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-malaysia-labour-pact/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">signed a Memorandum of Understanding</a> (MoU) on October 2018 to resume sending workers.Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Killed in the line of duty</a>, Om Astha Rai and Sonia AwaleThe Minister for Labour, Gokarna Bista, says the selection of an institution for health checkups of aspiring labour migrants is in the last stages now, adding that the Joint Technical Committee, tasked with implementing the MoU, is preparing for its second meeting.“No one has the right to swindle workers. The ministry’s stance on the companies that created a syndicate in visa processing remains the same,” Bista told Nepali Times.However, even as the case against Hamidi moves forward in the Malaysian courts, in Nepal, the counterparts of the companies involved have gone scot free.None of the companies involved, or the senior officials who allowed Hamidi to get away with swindling labour migrants, have been investigated.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-malaysia-labour-pact/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal-Malaysia Labour Pact</a>, Ramu Sapkota  Additional reporting by Abdul Rashid

Punished in Malaysia, ignored in Nepal

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

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

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

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

As soon as she milks her cow, 52-year-old Punam B K is off, pedaling her bicycle furiously along the highway with a blue milk can in the front basket.&nbsp; By the time she arrives at the Jaya Shiva Ganesh Dairy Producers Cooperative in Gopalganj village, others are already there, their bicycles parked on the roadside. The farmers are all holding on to their blue milk cans, and are chatting away.&nbsp; “We keep what is needed for the family, and sell whatever remains here at the cooperative,” says B K, as the volume, fat and non-fat solid content of her milk is measured. It is then poured into a bigger vat to be mixed with milk from other farmers. B K collects her receipt with the value of her milk, and prepares to head home. The farmers are reimbursed on a quarterly basis.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-family-that-works-together-stays-together">A family that works together stays together</a>, Sahina Shrestha “Everyone around here has at least a cow or buffalo to provide milk for the family, the cowdung is used for fertiliser, and we can bring whatever is left over to the cooperative,” says B K who, like the others, brings her milk by bicycle twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_0df32c0f6a572aef83eca02dc7a86f75ea5dbc88dc6c2390d42a44ab3cc93395.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241210081232_0df32c0f6a572aef83eca02dc7a86f75ea5dbc88dc6c2390d42a44ab3cc93395" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  All this may seem like nothing special, just an ordinary farmer selling her milk. But it has to be seen in the context of dairy farmers overcoming subsistence and increasing household income. Nearly 200,000 dairy farmers from over 1,200 cooperatives have not been paid by the government-run DDC for their milk for a year or more.&nbsp; The DDC has fixed a quota for buying milk from cooperatives that limits production even during the peak winter months. Farmers in Chitwan are so fed up, they have staged demonstrations in Kathmandu and even poured milk on the East-West Highway in protest.&nbsp; Punam B K’s milk ends up in Bhawani Dairy, a milk processing plant in Chitwan that buys milk from various cooperatives in the district. It was established six years ago by three entrepreneur cousins Devrath Baral, Drishya Baral and Subash Paudel and is now being supported by the Commercial Agriculture for Smallholders and Agribusiness (CASA) project.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_4e3c65390b9c5345f807b10cbb8c36b006ef6d3cb972e07b5067f4b2db2be32e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241210081232_4e3c65390b9c5345f807b10cbb8c36b006ef6d3cb972e07b5067f4b2db2be32e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1102" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  This UK-funded project implemented by Swisscontact in Nepal has been supporting agro-businesses in 23 countries in Asia and Africa. They focus on improving the capacity of private dairy and vegetable farmers to find markets and build a sustainable supply chain for their produce. It helps dairies like the one in Chitwan with branding and marketing, as well to track business through a Dairy Management System (DMS) digital database.&nbsp; Bhawani Dairy also got support to conduct orientation for cooperative farmers to learn about new ways to boost productivity with breeding, cowshed management and hygiene maintenance. Many commercial farmers in Chitwan, some with up to 60 cows and buffaloes, have benefited.&nbsp; B K says she only has six cows, so not everything she hears at the orientation about increasing cowshed area is applicable. “We are just happy our milk is not wasted, and we can earn some cash from the surplus,” she says.&nbsp; Bhawani Dairy’s clientele is based entirely in Chitwan and in towns along the East-West Highway. But building on its success here, the company is looking to expand nationwide and target the Kathmandu market. Being a perishable product, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/nepal-s-milk-heartland-rebounds">diary business is challenging</a>. Businesses also need investment and technical support to diversify into value-added milk products like cheese, yoghurt, ice cream or powdered milk.&nbsp; “For now, the best thing we as a dairy business can do for farmers is to buy their milk at a decent price and pay them in time,” says Drishya Baral of Bhawani Dairy.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_6c06efb5674dbcd8679015af543bfda87030755383a13c9269e272af28e85953.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241210081232_6c06efb5674dbcd8679015af543bfda87030755383a13c9269e272af28e85953" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  Another agro-industry supported by CASA since 2018 is Himalayan Supervores, a venture that sources farm produce to supply vegetables and other foods to restaurants and hotels in the city, and even export Halal-certified produce to Gulf countries.&nbsp; CASA helped with cold chain management system to keep vegetable produce fresh so that the products earn trust about quality in the national and international market. Himalayan Supervores is already exporting to UAE and Qatar, and is targeting other Gulf countries next. “The guidance provided by the international expert was invaluable, we could not have bought that knowledge even with money,” says Nelson Shrestha of Himalayan Supervores. “It was not about fancy hardware, but how to minimise wastage, increase productivity, save time and money.”&nbsp; Though Himalayan Supervores collects vegetables from vegetable cooperatives, it indirectly works with a network of thousands of cooperative farmers. Its catchment area therefore is enormous, and it has enhanced their knowledge about organic farming methods, bio-pesticides, and the right way to handle and package vegetables. CASA’s most recent tie-up is with Pokhara-based Poshilo Foods, which specialises in increasing the shelf-life of local nutritional food items. During the Covid lockdown <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p3bparajuli/">Prithwi Kallyan Parajuli</a> saw an opportunity to supply nutritional foods that stayed longer, and set up Poshilo.&nbsp; It took traditional satu flour made from dry-roasted pulse, added more nutrients, and packaged it. Four flavours of satu with nutrient values differentiated for various age groups now line the shelves of supermarket chains like KK Mart, Saleways. Poshilo is now exploring the export market in India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_a8dbea8c8d45ac4eff6c37fb47da7ff461989c662ba86d207a008381101acdcf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241210081232_a8dbea8c8d45ac4eff6c37fb47da7ff461989c662ba86d207a008381101acdcf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  In the five years of helping Nepali agribusinesses, CASA has already teamed up with 35 established companies. Parajuli heaps fulsome praise on the catalytic support and guidance he got early on, not just for product design, but to explore market viability, branding and marketing.&nbsp; He has participated in government-led programs before, but says those are one-off and focus only on technical solutions and do not pay much attention to the important back-end work with management and sales.&nbsp; Says Devrath Baral of Bhawani Dairy in Chitwan: “We would probably have eventually got to where we are now, but it would have taken years longer without CASA. And now we can share our experience with other agribusinesses in Nepal.”

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