As a struggling photographer in Bhaktapur 30 years ago, Kishor Kayastha could not even afford furniture. Buying a new lens was out of the question. Later, as one of Nepal’s <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1520">top fashion and travel photographers</a>, Kayastha toured the world, doing shoots in exotic places for famous brands. Money was not as much a limiting factor anymore. Then came the accident. The shoot team was caught in a blizzard in Mustang in 2019, when Kayastha and the horse he was riding tumbled down a steep slope in whiteout conditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010810014_4df10f4086c81192b5e9fdda030c3d2b2b186b549c9b0683a6922dc4b4699ce6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025010810014_4df10f4086c81192b5e9fdda030c3d2b2b186b549c9b0683a6922dc4b4699ce6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3714" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_fe7e94e613c7c6de648043252095475c789260a9a66f88d5d7e349bab9f21c98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250108050116_fe7e94e613c7c6de648043252095475c789260a9a66f88d5d7e349bab9f21c98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  “My whole life flashed before me,” he recalls, “I was filled with regret for all work I had not done. I suddenly realised all the money in the world cannot buy you life. Miraculously, Kayastha survived and the near-death experience was an epiphany that changed the trajectory of his life. Since then, his photographs have a more dreamlike tone, the visuals documenting an observed reality but transcending it. Which is why a visit to Kishor Kayastha’s ongoing exhibition of 30 ultra-wide panoramas at Nepal Art Council, MUSTANG: A Two-Decade Odyssey, feels like a pilgrimage to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/hibernating-students-of-the-himalaya">Mustang</a>: it is the next best thing to being there oneself. The high resolution prints are vast, some of them 6m wide, and do justice to Mustang’s big sky and the wrinkled, ochre terrain of this arid trans-Himalayan district. Kayastha has been going to Mustang at least four times a year for the past two decades, and the exhibition spans the time in which much has changed with the arrival of the highway, outmigration and climate breakdown. But a lot remains the same. “I first went in 2004 mainly because I could not go to Tibet,” Kayastha relates. “And I found there is a Tibet in Nepal, too. Mustang has always been a refuge, a beyul, to escape the materialistic world of Kathmandu.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_41d004484b0a3471cc441b23360fe187eda813c19ca26314795215f428ddcbaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250108050116_41d004484b0a3471cc441b23360fe187eda813c19ca26314795215f428ddcbaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_131a471fb81aa7d0d314bf08bd5912951bb20d0d3b6977e1c1ff523da6456500.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250108050116_131a471fb81aa7d0d314bf08bd5912951bb20d0d3b6977e1c1ff523da6456500" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="912" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  Kayastha, now 47, was born into photography. His <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14249">parents owned a studio</a> in Bhaktapur, and as a boy he helped his mother in the darkroom, dipping black and white prints into developers and fixers under a dim red light. Today, everyone with a mobile device is taking pictures, but Kayastha believes photography is more relevant than ever: “Selfies have become selfish. Like they said that the invention of the camera would make paintings obsolete, photography is not going away either.” &nbsp; Anyone who has travelled north of Kagbeni, especially <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/mustang-in-shadows-and-light">in the old days</a> before Sumo jeeps replaced mule trains, will appreciate the tranquility of this windswept plateau where time stood still.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_d478c15cb66377326d0ef88b70f38eaeb9f20b97bd06d7753f04671550881545.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250108050116_d478c15cb66377326d0ef88b70f38eaeb9f20b97bd06d7753f04671550881545" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  “The horizon is so wide, the sky so immense, the land so unending that Mustang makes you feel small in the scheme of things. It brings you down to size, both physically and spiritually,” Kayastha says. The extra-wide prints were so big, even the Nepal Art Council’s walls could not accommodate all of them, so Kayastha had to scale some of the photographs down. The sheer size of the images evoke in visitors the finiteness of human existence in time and space.&nbsp; Kayastha speaks to us as he unrolls a stitched panorama of Kagbeni he took in 2004. That image and another one taken from the same spot in 2024 serve as bookends at the exhibition, revealing through repeat photography the passage of time. Kagbeni’s monastery complex is now much bigger, there are new concrete buildings, and scars from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-lost-cannot-be-repaid">the great flood last year</a> that tore through town.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_063acabfe6e991f69e1d5eaace3620b4136f2212135f899a5ac0c4e5011e31e6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250108050116_063acabfe6e991f69e1d5eaace3620b4136f2212135f899a5ac0c4e5011e31e6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_cb401c5d83a34e999f96ab24a69dae2cbe525d575a3a798182ab09bab2490628.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250108050116_cb401c5d83a34e999f96ab24a69dae2cbe525d575a3a798182ab09bab2490628" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  Yet, beyond and above the Kali Gandaki’s fossil-strewn banks, the russet brown folds in the rock strata remind us that in geological timescale human beings have been here for less than a millisecond of a camera’s shutter speed. Kishor Kayastha’s exhibition forces us to think that Mustang’s fierce afternoon winds will keep sculpting its dyed organ pipe cliffs long after we are not here to see them.&nbsp; MUSTANG: A Two Decade Odyssey by Kishor Kayastha Till 14 January, 11AM-4PM Nepal Art Council

Kunda Dixit

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Eyes wide open in Mustang

Before the road got here to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Nepal’s prime apple growing region</a>, the bumper fruit harvest would rot in the orchards in autumn. Farmers tried to feed apples to livestock, but the cattle were sick of eating it. There were few jobs, a war was going on, and most young men migrated out of this spectacularly scenic but isolated region along the Kali Gandaki River between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri. &nbsp; Saroj Tulachan was one of them. He left his small homestead near Tukuche and walked five days to Pokhara, took a bus to Kathmandu and through contacts got a job as a chef in Japan. “I was just like a coolie there, working in the kitchen, but I learnt a lot about farming techniques in my spare time, and kept dreaming of the day I would return to Nepal with savings in my pocket,” says Tulachan. But it took him 16 long years to come back. &nbsp; But much more important than savings, he came back with a dream. In the beginning, like most <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">returnees</a>, he struggled to adjust and find a meaningful job to pay for high living expenses. Then the Covid pandemic hit, and Tulachan fell ill.&nbsp; “I said to myself, why am I staying in the city when my home in the mountains is safe and a heaven on earth?” Tulachan recalls, his face wrinkled in a wide smile.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240719070744_9a3e0f07e70d7c2b0c2b0f717c947e09a8d2fffb31a25fc7e1690171897f5846.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240719070744_9a3e0f07e70d7c2b0c2b0f717c947e09a8d2fffb31a25fc7e1690171897f5846" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1313" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang farmer shows what is possible despite government NT"> <figcaption>He has combined his apple farm with an eco-tourism resort in the lap of Mt Nilgiri, added a cold store and expanded his orchard.</figcaption> </figure>  Tulachan’s dream was always to return to his native <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">Mustang</a>, Covid just made him bring the plan forward. What he has achieved since coming back is a remarkable example of passion, simple technical innovation and marketing skills transforming rural Nepal in just a few years. Improving on the knowledge about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tara-pariyar-s-karnali">apple farming</a> that he learnt from his father, Tulachan uses a high-density tall spindle farming method to grow apples vertically like vines rather than trees. The system improves productivity through early yield, better fruit quality, and reduced costs for care. Each plant produces more than a much bigger tree of the local Marpha variety, and the fruits fetch a higher price in markets in Pokhara and Kathmandu. In the past year, business has been so successful that Tulachan has expanded from the orchard he inherited from his father to buy and lease more property along the Kali Gandaki floodplain. He is also helping neighbouring farms in Tukuche, Marpha and Jomsom to adopt the new technique. “It does not make sense only for me to do well, the whole community needs to benefit,” says Tulachan. “What is most important is self-fulfillment and happiness, I can’t take my money with me when I die.” And Tulachan is happiest among his apple trees. He is up at the crack of dawn and with his garden shears is off for a morning of pruning, training and grafting apple plants. He has built his own <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/access-to-water-changes-the-face-of-rural-nepal">irrigation system</a> channeling water from a nearby stream. Learning from his Japan stay, he has also established a ryokan-style inn called Mustang Eco Hill Resort by the Pokhara-Jomsom highway with a restaurant serving organic produce from his farm, and a gift shop.&nbsp; A new addition to Tulachan’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-sustainable-tourism-means-in-practice">eco-tourism</a> and apple orchard venture is a cold storage which evens out the autumn glut after the apple harvest when prices are low, so the fruits fetch a higher price in April-May.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240719070744_e6340bb121f63c35a376fc72eba640e8cc6e5bbb74464b26742ba3dddde1696a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240719070744_e6340bb121f63c35a376fc72eba640e8cc6e5bbb74464b26742ba3dddde1696a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1166" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang farmer shows what is possible despite government NT"> </figure>  “If you want to get rich quick, this is not your line of business,” warns Tulachan, walking between neat rows of tall spindle apple stems to check on his drip irrigation system. “You have to be patient, and plan ten years into the future.” His Japanese high density apple variety takes only three years to ripen, compared to 15 years for local trees. Presently, the farm harvests 18 tons of apple every season, and with the new plants in his expanded farm, Tulachan expects 40 tons. The farm makes Rs3.5 million in profit every year, which goes for upkeep, servicing loans and upgrading his inn.&nbsp; Traders now come all the way from Kathmandu to book Tulachan’s apples. His apple varieties sell for Rs400 per kg at Bhatbhateni department stores, more than three times more than the traditional Marpha variety. A flag of Nepal flutters proudly in the afternoon wind on the roof of the Mustang Eco Hill Resort, and Tulachan says Nepalis who stop at his farm marvel that there is a place like this in Nepal. He has set an example that it is possible to run a profitable business and create jobs despite the government. He says: “There is no point blaming the government, we can do a lot by ourselves. If they just scaled up what I have done here to the national level by investing in tourism, agriculture and hydropower, Nepal can also be prosperous.”

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Mustang farmer shows what is possible despite government

Mustang district is in the cold and arid trans-Himalayan region of Nepal, and used to get very little rain. But with climate breakdown, precipitation patterns have changed, bringing frequent winter drought and summer floods. This is forcing families here to abandon traditional flat-roofed, mud-walled house designs for modern reinforced concrete and brick structures that can better withstand heavy rainfall. Most flat roofs of Mustang homes used to be stacked with precious firewood, and the size of the pile indicated the family’s affluence. A large stack suggested wealth, and even better marriage prospects. Roofs lined with juniper branches are still an integral part of Mustang’s architecture and identity, and is a tourist attraction in a part of Nepal that is geologically and culturally close to Tibet. The firewood fits together like tetris, capping the clay roofs of houses with sloping rammed earth walls, traditionally plastered with white, black and orange clay. The late artist Robert Powell documented Mustang’s architecture with detailed paintings in his book, Earth Door Sky Door (pictured) which explained that the firewood on the roof, besides signifying status, also protected the clay roofs and walls from melting snow. The front yards and porches of these houses are laid in stone, as are the main paths that run through towns like Marpha. Altogether there is a cohesive, congruent feeling to the architecture.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024071906070_2f3802c7544ab3492acea14a615a4f465a520402e22e4e40d8694a76414dc17c.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024071906070_2f3802c7544ab3492acea14a615a4f465a520402e22e4e40d8694a76414dc17c" data-rendition-name="original" width="817" height="664" loading="lazy" alt="Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World NT"></figure>  But the roofs on the Roof of the World are changing. Unusually heavy rains caused by the climate crisis means the roofs now leak and the mud walls dissolve in downpours. Traditional buildings are being torn down to be replaced with cement houses. Mustang is now connected to the rest of Nepal by a new highway, and this means families use LPG cylinders to cook and do not need firewood anymore. Kamala Linchin runs a hotel built in the local style in Marpha, but is replacing it with a multi-storey cement structure. “Even after repairs, there are a lot of problems with this house,” she explains, “The firewood rots, the roof leaks, and the walls break down. It is costly to maintain and I am losing business.” Linchin has noticed the change in weather patterns: it snows very little, if at all, in winter, and there are summer storms that unleash flash floods and torrential rain. She adds, “It used to snow so much in Mustang that you couldn’t leave your house for months. We stored firewood for cooking and heating. But it doesn’t matter how much firewood you store now, it rots quickly, and water starts dripping from the roof.” Two years ago, her neighbour Ripesh Linchin was also forced to build a concrete house with a sloping tile roof. He tells us: “The firewood on the roof may look photogenic for tourists but it leaks, and your sons want a more comfortable house. What to do?”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024071906074_a14ddd5493310227facabab2a5722423fab361cf201585d1a69822aa7cc3e035.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024071906074_a14ddd5493310227facabab2a5722423fab361cf201585d1a69822aa7cc3e035" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="1688" loading="lazy" alt="Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World NT"><figcaption>Juniper firewood on a roof of a house in Lo Manthang. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>  In nearby Gharpajhong, village chair Mohan Singh Lalchan has data that show a shift in the style of houses. Sixty of the 600 houses in the village now have tin or concrete roofs and the trend is catching on. Gas cylinders are available even in the remotest villages in Mustang, so people do not need to stack firewood on their roofs anymore. This is not necessarily a bad thing: government-subsidised gas means less pressure on high altitude forests where trees take a lot longer to grow. Kitchens are also less smoky now, so children are less exposed to respiratory ailments. Just about every family in Mustang has someone working in Japan, South Korea or the US, and the money they send means households can buy cooking gas, and build modern houses. The main reason for the shift, though, is climate breakdown, Lalchan says, adding: “It used to snow so much that flights at Jomsom airport would be cancelled for weeks, but it’s been a while since that happened. Now the only snow we see is on top of Mt Nilgiri.” Rainfall data from Nepal’s Department of Hydrology and Meteorology also shows heavier precipitation in summer. In 2010, there was 286mm of rain in Jomsom. By 2018, total precipitation was 301mm. In 2020 403mm of rain fell, with a whopping 666mm in 2021. In the last 14 years, average annual rainfall has doubled, sometimes triggering destructive flash floods like the ones in Lubra and Kagbeni. Data also shows an increase in temperature. In 2011, the average annual temperature here was 17.68°C, and last year it was 18°C. Other meteorological stations in Mustang show similar increases.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024071906074_f70c10a5189deedf82a66a1f5a4b986c7705184adccaaeb5ba5db060b538a9d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024071906074_f70c10a5189deedf82a66a1f5a4b986c7705184adccaaeb5ba5db060b538a9d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2376" loading="lazy" alt="Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World NT"><figcaption>The late artist Robert Powell's book Earth Door Sky Door had paintings of Mustang's architectural heritage. One of the water colours shows a traditional Mustang house with sloping rammed earth walls and firewood on the flat roof.</figcaption></figure>  Environmental researcher Hemu Kafle warns that even a 0.1% change in average annual temperature or rainfall can cause drastic changes in weather. In Manang and Mustang districts, vegetables can now be grown and apple orchards have recorded higher yields. Sociologist Krishna Bhattachan notes that the most affected by these changes are Mustang’s indigenous people. He says, “For many of Mustang’s natives, cement will never be an alternative to wood, culturally and economically. The government needs to help find an ideal solution.” Tourists have to pay a $500 fee for a 15-day permit to visit Upper Mustang where visitor numbers are controlled to protect local culture. Mustang has been voted among the 52 must-go places by the New York Times for the second year in a row in 2024, and what attracts tourists is the region’s unique and fragile heritage and architecture. The firewood roof tradition is an important part of the tourism economy even as globalisation homogenises the world. Juddha Gurung is an expert in natural resources and tourism, and he thinks the way to go is to make local communities more aware of their heritage so they protect it. “The number of new-fashioned houses is still quite small. This is a result of economic and social change in the locality, so the local government must get active about this,” says Gurung. Head of Gharpajhong village Mohan Lalchan is worried that modernity and climate change will erode Mustang’s identity, affecting tourism. “We are examining how we can support local families to keep the traditional look of their homes,” he told us. Architects say a compromise between modern architecture and tradition is possible. A firewood-stacked roof need not be demolished to prevent leaks. In fact, some homes have poured concrete on their roofs while keeping the traditional façade of the stone and clay plaster houses. With another monsoon now bringing fresh showers, Mustang looks like it is in a race against time to save what is left.

Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World

On 28 May, as the rest of Nepal was celebrating Republic Day, here in Mustang King Jigme Singe Palbar Bistawas being treated like royalty. The king himself is deeply involved with many problems faced by this once-isolated finger of Nepal sticking out into the Tibetan Plateau. Although there is now a road linking Lo Manthang to the rest of Nepal, the district faces challenges of under-development, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">lack of jobs and outmigration</a>, cultural preservation, and lately the impact of climate breakdown. As the king travels around his district, the people of Mustang treat him with visible affection and respect. And the feeling seems to be mutual. The district survives mostly on income from tourism and remittances from Mustang people living in Japan, Korea and the United States. The mostly elderly residents come out to greet their king and their main concern is about the lack of water due to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">climate crisis</a>. Winter snowfall has failed for several years, while there are torrential downpours during the summer in this usually arid region. There have been destructive floods when glacial lakes burst last year in Kagbeni last year and in Lubra in 2021. Elsewhere, entire villages have had to relocate because springs and streams have gone dry. The king was born in Thingkar village in Upper Mustang 67 years ago, and remembers there used to be much more snow in the mountains during his childhood. “The whole landscape has changed, the snow and the ponds are all gone,” he tells us during a walkabout.&nbsp; “In the past, the weather pattern was predictable, snow in winter, some rain the monsoon and the winds would blow as expected,” he adds. “Now everything is unpredictable. The future does not look good at all.” Data from the Jomsom station of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology shows that average annual temperature rose from 17.7°C in 2012 to 18.2°C last year. This trans-Himalayan region is in the rainshadow, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/soon-monsoon">summer rain volume went up</a> from 286mm in 2011 to 666mm in 2021, damaging traditional stone and mud houses. But in winter there has been no snow for several years. The change in weather has also forced many to abandon traditional flat top architecture for tin roofs and cement walls. Warmer weather means new pathogens are moving up the mountains, but also apple orchards and vegetable patches are possible where it was too cold before.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240611040648_add720880bcfcd6a04270ba9ad854f1b6a1457c5c55b012e147fc6b4e3bd5a0e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240611040648_add720880bcfcd6a04270ba9ad854f1b6a1457c5c55b012e147fc6b4e3bd5a0e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2965" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang king NT"> <figcaption>Jigme Singe Palbar Bista, the monarch of Mustang</figcaption> </figure>  “The climate crisis poses a threat to all traditionally built houses, including monasteries, and heritage structures,” says the king, who is actively involved in climate adaptation work through the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, named after his father. “We are now carrying out a comprehensive study of how climate change will affect Mustang, and will plan depending on findings.” The king fondly remembers his father, Jigme Dorje Palbar Bista, who died in 2016. He says he worked tirelessly for the development of Mustang and the welfare of its people. During his reign, he focused on reconstructing and preserving dilapidated monasteries and shrines and ensuring that Mustang was not affected by politics in Kathmandu, and by geopolitics.&nbsp; “My father always kept the welfare of the community as his number one priority,” says the king.&nbsp; Jigme Palwar Bista owned 65 horses, but his son owns only 5 — an indication of the diminishing importance of horses after the road from Jomsom to the Chinese border was built ten years ago. As a boy, the king used to travel three days on horseback from Jomsom, and the animals were integral to the culture and daily life of the Mustang people.&nbsp; Last year, during the wedding of crown prince Jigme Dhindup Phunchok Palwar Bista, Lo Manthang rural municipality declared a public holiday and residents brought their horses to the celebration — altogether 250 of them. “I wanted to hold my son’s wedding in Kathmandu, but the citizens insisted it should be here,” the king confided. “We didn’t ask them to bring their horses, but out of love and respect for the institution, they brought their own horses for the celebration.” The king now spends part of his time in Kathmandu where he looks after his 92-year-old queen step mother. But the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">hustle and bustle of Kathmandu</a> makes him homesick, and he longs to be back to also take care of his resort in Lo Manthang. The eldest brother of the previous King Jigme Palbar Bista died at a young age, another brother became a monk in Dolpo. The former king’s own son also died at a young age, and when his biological mother died, the current king was adopted as the heir to ensure continuity of the royal lineage. The king says Mustang will need help from the international community to cope with the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-lost-cannot-be-repaid">impact of climate breakdown</a>. He says, “We also need to understand the changing climate better, and unite to adapt to its impact.” &nbsp;

The kingdom within a republic

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.thenation.com/issue/may-2024-issue/">the May 2024 issue of The Nation</a> magazine. My first glimpse of Kagbeni in Mustang came with a mix of relief, elation, and a cold foreboding. I had been walking north with my Nepali guide, sturdy 50-year-old Manoj Tamang out of Pokhara, for four days. Dhaulagiri at 8,167m looming to the west and the Annapurna massif to the east, until we had put them behind us.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/soon-monsoon">Soon, monsoon</a>, Anita Bhetwal Now in their rain shadow on the north side of the Himalaya, the landscape quickly turned from alpine to arid high-mountain grassland and desert. We would spend two nights and a full day in Kagbeni at 2,804m before continuing up to Jharkot and Muktinath (3,800m), still the ‘foothills’ by Himalayan standards. Hence the relief, especially for my 56-year-old back and legs which were no match for Manoj’s. As for the elation, it came not only from the vista of Kagbeni’s terraced fields and orchards appearing, like some miraculous oasis, at the foot of barren cliffs and snowless mountainsides.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030540_48e8edcc734cc1dd82514c3d142ad8027b57fe9fd6af2186be6623b39bc90ca6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240518030540_48e8edcc734cc1dd82514c3d142ad8027b57fe9fd6af2186be6623b39bc90ca6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni"> <figcaption>A view of Kagbeni, looking north up the Kali Gandaki valley.</figcaption> </figure>  Since the 12th century, Kagbeni has been the “gateway” to the ancient Kingdom of Lo, known today as Upper Mustang, a restricted area on Nepal’s border with China. Yet today’s Mustang, as <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/14672715.2023.2174891">recent scholarship</a> by the anthropologist Emily Amburgey and others has shown, is no idyllic Shangri-la, thanks to its mix of poverty, uneven development, government neglect, out-migration of the young, and, increasingly, symptoms of climate change (like those snowless mountains during my January visit). Indeed, the foreboding came when I remembered why I was there. Last August, Kagbeni suffered a devastating flood—brought on by extreme rainfall—the likes of which no one living there had ever experienced. I wanted to see the damage and the recovery effort for myself—and I wanted to hear from local people about what climate change means for their lives and communities in the <a href="https://hkh.icimod.org/hi-wise/hi-wise-report/">fast-warming Himalaya</a>. * Kagbeni is built along both banks of the Kag Khola river where it flows into the Kali Gandaki from the east. The original 12th century town, with its traditional flat-roofed mud houses and its medieval monastery and fort, lies on the north side, and the newer part of town to the south.&nbsp; The confluence of the two rivers, sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists, has made Kagbeni an important stop on the age-old pilgrimage route to the ancient Muktinath temple complex farther up the Kag Khola Gorge. The area is now heavily touristed thanks to a major road completed in 2008. That first afternoon, I made my way along the new town’s main street until it opened suddenly onto what still looked, five months after the flood, like a war zone. The grey rubble of rock, sand, and dried-mud debris, a block wide and a story high, stretched a good 200 yards along both sides of the narrow river.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030540_a02fc741e3dd0e6c639460c046d8fc29a7fd953be48ab0ff731a7f5cee272621.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240518030540_a02fc741e3dd0e6c639460c046d8fc29a7fd953be48ab0ff731a7f5cee272621" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030544_60cfb13b9bbcd268a6dfe68cdab45678260fc5156e32c3bf0e74a00043b06791.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240518030544_60cfb13b9bbcd268a6dfe68cdab45678260fc5156e32c3bf0e74a00043b06791" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> </figure>  &nbsp;The floods that sweep down these river gorges do not just carry water, they consist of a thick, heavy flow of cement-like silt, mud, and rock that levels everything in its path and raises the riverbed by many feet. Think of it not as sea-level rise but riverbed rise, putting homes, schools, stupas and temples, infrastructure, and fields in greater peril with each new flood, which comes more often as global warming alters the South Asian monsoon. Rinzin Namgyal Gurung, the Kagbeni rural municipality chair, laid out the extent of the flood damage for me in an email: eight buildings completely destroyed, including a hotel, a government ward office, a health centre, and a police station, and 19 that suffered partial damage, including the monastery and the secondary school.&nbsp; In all, 27 buildings designated as residential or hotels were destroyed or damaged, plus nine ‘crucial public structures’ (water supply and treatment, irrigation canals, sewers, electricity stations, bridges, and river retaining walls) ‘were also severely affected’. This is a town of just 600 people. Gurung also listed the full extent of recovery funding and assistance the town received from Nepal’s national government: “Ministry of Home Affairs, 10 heavy tents and 15 blankets.” Assistance received so far from international NGOs: none. In the absence of such aid, the Mustang community in Nepal and abroad, has stepped up with a grassroots fundraising campaign. As Mustang faces another monsoon season, the question of longer-term survival is on some people’s minds. * Laxmi Gurung is 49 years old and was born in Kagbeni, where her ancestors have lived for eons. She was away in Kathmandu when I visited Kagbeni, but I caught up with her the following week in the capital’s Swayambhu neighborhood. Laxmi and her brother, a former local-government chairperson, own and run Kagbeni’s Hotel Mustang Gateway and its iconic <a href="https://www.facebook.com/yacdonald/">YacDonald’s restaurant</a>.&nbsp; Together, they founded the Fama Foundation to help preserve Mustang’s traditional culture as the region rapidly develops. Educated at universities in India and New Zealand, Laxmi attended COP28, the latest United Nations Climate Change Conference, in Dubai last December with Nepal’s delegation to advocate for the establishment of a ‘loss and damage’ fund at the UN. Last year’s August flood had damaged the hotel and restaurant, sending a car through a wall.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030544_e746e002560e33596c8c9beea4fe1210d0ff8f0aa697fd82e55426b049aecc46.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240518030544_e746e002560e33596c8c9beea4fe1210d0ff8f0aa697fd82e55426b049aecc46" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood loss and damage"> <figcaption>Laxmi Gurung's hotel and restaurant was damaged in the Kagbeni flood. She says the 'loss and damage' fund cannot pay for everything that is lost.</figcaption> </figure>  Laxmi described that night in harrowing detail: the intensity of the rain, unlike anything Kagbeni had experienced in the past (the old town’s mud houses, which have survived centuries in the region’s arid climate, are now dissolving under the recent downpours), the warning calls from villages upriver, which saved lives (Kagbeni had no fatalities), the unforgettable sound of heavy debris crashing into buildings in the darkness and of buildings collapsing, the agonising wait to see the damage in first daylight.&nbsp; “It was the longest night,” Laxmi said. But it was the flood’s aftermath that was the most revelatory. “The next day we see everywhere heaps of mud. And we don’t know what to do. Everybody is crying,” Laxmi said.&nbsp; Houses and belongings were buried under the debris, while some items were carried down the Kali Gandaki as far as Lete, 25 miles away. “All the people, from Lubrak, from Muktinath, every village from Upper Mustang to Lower Mustang came with something in hand to help Kagbeni, to move the debris. They came personally to help us, and they also contributed financial help. Mustang is an example that community exists.” “From the government, we still have not got any relief funds,” Laxmi said. Nepal’s Home Ministry and a variety of NGOs “came and watched—they see, they study, and [are] gone.” Pointing out that Kagbeni’s carbon emissions, like Nepal’s as a whole, are negligible, Laxmi asked, “Why are we the ones who suffer a lot? Our memories, heritage, structures, landscapes: gone. And who is to blame for this? Should we blame ourselves? We should get compensation. But who will listen to us? We are a small community, a small mountain village, in one corner of—beyond the Himalaya. Even Nepal’s government believes we are beyond the Himalaya, and we have been neglected.” When asked about her advocacy in Dubai for loss-and-damage funding, and if there are losses that cannot be compensated, she said: “The financial help can establish new houses, infrastructures, but our heritage, our ancestors’ properties, we cannot rebuild. The loss of memories, values, culture, customs cannot be repaid.” * Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung, 36, is a freelance researcher, conservationist, and photographer from Lubrak, a tiny village a few miles south of Kagbeni. Dating back to the 12th century, it has 14 households and is the last village in Mustang entirely following the pre-Buddhist Tibetan Bön religion. Working with Amburgey and other scholars, Yungdrung has researched the effects of climate and social change in Mustang. In June 2021, his family’s small ancestral home in Lubrak was destroyed by a major flood. They have since built a new house higher up the steep mountainside, and he has documented and reported <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">for the Nepali Times</a> on how Lubrak is shifting ground as the floods and rising riverbed overwhelm its ancestral fields and now threaten the heart of the village itself. “Knowingly or not knowingly, local people are already struggling,” Yungdrung said. “In Lubrak, my family was living with the threat of when the flood would happen and we would lose our house. In 2021, it happened overnight. And when we see the snow melting and how the rain pattern is changing, and flood is one of the outcomes, we cannot do much. In our village, most of the old traditional things are already damaged, and we do not have [many options for a] livelihood.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030548_4296e553e89fe3a46fdf156b47e9c0409d40a78f20eaf30df2d23222b9dcf6d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20240518030548_4296e553e89fe3a46fdf156b47e9c0409d40a78f20eaf30df2d23222b9dcf6d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood victim"> <figcaption>Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung, of Lubrak village, at Paradise Trekkers Home in Kagbeni in January 2024.</figcaption> </figure>  The people of Lubrak are actively discussing whether, how, and where to relocate as a community—a prospect complicated by the fact that, under recent national policy, the community's ancestral land is now owned by the Nepali government. “We cannot build and claim that it belongs to us, like our parents and older generations,” Yungdrung said.&nbsp; His family was the first in Lubrak to lose its home, and the plot on which they rebuilt was allocated through the village’s traditional community decision-making process. But now their ownership, and the village’s ability to relocate on ancestral land, is uncertain.&nbsp; “We do not fit in the Nepal government’s policy,” Yungdrung said. “How can we survive here?” Kagbeni now faces the same issue. Nepal’s central government recently overruled a local decision to allocate community land to flood victims for building new homes. “As authorised land documents remain unavailable, the affected individuals and local authorities are actively pursuing procedures to acquire land from the government,” explained Rinzin Namgyal Gurung, the chairperson. * Asked what would happen if there were suddenly a significant amount of loss-and-damage funding for Mustang, if it would make a difference or if there was a mechanism through which to use the money, Yungdrung did not sound confident.&nbsp; “I don’t see a way through, directly,” he said. “The political situation is not stable. Many people at different political levels will benefit from it, and many NGOs are influenced by political parties. So for now, even if you say in 2024 there will be lots of grants for loss and damage, I don’t think it will reach the ground level. It won’t reach the people who actually suffer.” There’s a simplistic narrative about loss-and-damage funding, which took a long-overdue stride forward at COP28. It suggests that if wealthy Global North nations create a pot of money to compensate the most vulnerable developing countries, among which Nepal ranks in the global top 10, that it will address the problem.&nbsp; It is as if, where the culpable rich nations once said, “They’ll adapt,” the thinking now goes, “We’ll compensate them.” In other words: We’ll help pay for your losses (“Here, will this pocket change do?”) while we keep burning the world, melting your glaciers, and wrecking your monsoon.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030544_90c475a58da9022888aa9eb21e8a34f2b0b4fb62dce33d65fb80564b004c288f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240518030544_90c475a58da9022888aa9eb21e8a34f2b0b4fb62dce33d65fb80564b004c288f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> <figcaption>Buildings damaged by the August 2023 flood in Kagbeni, as seen in January 2024.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030548_0e74d4aa22d583f175cd44f26320733b40c246d5da073941becf1afa140064f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20240518030548_0e74d4aa22d583f175cd44f26320733b40c246d5da073941becf1afa140064f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> <figcaption>Damage and debris from the August 2023 flood in Kagbeni, as seen in January 2024.</figcaption> </figure>  Full loss-and-damage funding for poor countries is a moral and geopolitical imperative. Debt cancellation for developing nations might be a start. But it’s a naïve ‘first world’ fantasy to think that a government like Nepal’s has the capacity to implement climate relief and adaptation measures at scale, however much money is spent, without deep political and structural reforms (as any number of Nepali experts will tell you). What the United States, Europe, and the world’s other advanced economies truly owe the Global South goes well beyond compensation—especially when money itself cannot compensate for what is lost. We owe them nothing less than to break the grip of fossil fuels on our economic and political systems and end the use of coal, oil, and gas <a href="https://www.ecoequity.org/2024/02/after-dubai/">as fast—and as equitably</a>—as possible. That will require a political mobilisation like nothing we’ve yet seen, one that is still, at this late date, nowhere in sight. What, then, do you say to a person like Laxmi Gurung as she looks you in the eye? I had no adequate words. But maybe we should be looking to her for answers. In Kathmandu, I asked Laxmi if she thinks her community will ever abandon Kagbeni or whether her people will stay and fight, come what may. “The day we got the flood,” she told me, emotion in her voice, “we became strong. We said, ‘We should fight.’ We all are traumatised, we feel scared to stay in Kagbeni, but we thought, ‘No, this is our place, this is our home. No matter what, we should fight.’ So we all get together, and then the community all came. Then we began to say, ‘Oh, if we stand, everybody is with us. Why not stand?’” <a href="https://wenstephenson.com/">Wen Stephenson</a> is a veteran journalist, essayist, and climate-justice activist. A frequent contributor to <a href="https://www.thenation.com/authors/wen-stephenson/">The Nation</a> and <a href="https://thebaffler.com/authors/wen-stephenson">The Baffler</a>, he is the author of <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/250727/what-were-fighting-for-now-is-each-other-by-wen-stephenson/">What We’re Fighting for Now Is Each Other: Dispatches From the Front Lines of Climate Justice</a> (2015). His forthcoming book, Learning to Live in the Dark: Essays in a Time of Catastrophe, will be published next year.

What is lost cannot be repaid

The hallmark of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">climate breakdown in the Himalaya</a> is that it does not rain when and where it is supposed to, but pours at the wrong time in areas it ought not to. The trans-Himalayan Mustang region has had successive snowless winters but has experienced heavy monsoon downpours most characteristic of the southern foothills. But local and national governments seem ill-prepared to deal with this anomaly. The lack of readiness was seen in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/smoke-screen">unprecedented wildfires in March-April</a>, which was partly due to a long winter drought. Soon, the monsoon will be upon us and the government appears to be doing little more than quantifying the death and destruction from floods and landslides. On 13 August 2023, Namyak Gurung of Kagbeni in Mustang saw a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-the-seti-disaster">flash flood </a>that he had never seen in his 50-year life. Cloudbursts the day before set off landslides that dammed the Kag Khola, a tributary of the Kali Gandaki. &nbsp; The lake burst, destroying 30 of the 125 houses in the village. A police station, monasteries, bridges, a hospital, and a school were damaged. No one was killed because there were warning calls from people upstream. Nearly a year later, Kagbeni still looks like a war zone and the people dread the coming rainy season.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024052105050_0d7573f0ee787c01a56237486f98b6f2230ca3d3b6a9c778ce16841ba753e94c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024052105050_0d7573f0ee787c01a56237486f98b6f2230ca3d3b6a9c778ce16841ba753e94c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> </figure>  “I couldn’t leave the place of my ancestors," says Namyak who has relocated to his brother’s place after his two-storied building was destroyed. “I’m now building my new house a long way above the river. But I keep getting nightmares of another flood.”&nbsp; Tenzing Gurung, 36, was rescued from the second floor of her lodge in Kagbeni. Grey sand and boulders still cover the yard and the river now runs through what used to be the gate to her lodge. “I had never thought something like this could happen here,” says Tenzing. “We are scared, but where can we go?” The flood also damaged the local Janashanti Secondary School where two of Tenzing’s sons study. The school needs immediate relocation, but nothing has been done. “I just pray that the next flood doesn’t happen when my sons are in school,” adds Tenzing. Mustang and Manag districts are supposed to be in the Himalayan rainshadow, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">precipitation patterns are changing</a>. Light monsoon rains have turned into destructive torrents followed by long periods of drought. In June 2021, Manang got all of its average annual rainfall of 300mm in just one week. A wall of water, mud, boulders and logs rushed down the Marsyangdi River, washing away the highway, bridges, settlements and other infrastructure in Taal and Chame villages. “We have seen that the trans-Himalayan regions are now getting more rain than before, the whole rainfall pattern has changed,” says meteorologist Rajendra Sharma of the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA). He adds: “In the past, when it rained in Mustang, it happened gently over a period of time but now, we get everything in a day or two. Such heavy downpours increase the risk of floods and landslides.”&nbsp; In the last 10 years, a total of 1,500 floods, 2,500 landslides, and 1,549 high rainfall events occurred across the country and killed 2,141 people, second only to the 2015 Nepal earthquake. Yet the state appears ill-prepared to prevent the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lost-and-damaged">loss of life and damage</a> — even though not all the destruction can be blamed solely on climate breakdown.&nbsp; “From the Manang and Melamchi floods in 2021 to last year’s Mustang, all of these are weather-related disasters, and the rate of these incidents has increased due to climate change,” says climate expert Dharma Upreti. Although climatologists do not directly blame individual disasters on climate change, they say there is a correlation between rising global temperatures, higher sea surface temperatures contributing to more water vapour in the atmosphere.&nbsp; The Himalaya is also heating faster than the global average due to a phenomenon called ‘Elevation Dependent Warming’. Melting mountains also pose the additional risk of glacial lake outbursts and avalanches.&nbsp; The South Asian Climate Outlook Forum (SASCOF) has projected above-normal rainfall for Nepal this monsoon. And with less than a month before the onset of the rains, Nepal is not prepared. And here in Kagbeni, people have still not recovered from last year’s disaster. The NDRRMA’s primary focus is post-disaster humanitarian aid and relief such as stockpiling food, medicines, tents, electricity supply and connectivity — <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/disastrous-preparedness">not so much on preparedness</a>. “We do not have sufficient resources to manage damage caused by disasters year after year, the local government should step up,” says NDRRMA chief Anil Pokhrel. The lack of preparedness and coordination between line agencies means slow response to floods. Local governments are first responders, but do not have the financial support or technical know-how to deal with disasters on their own. Says district administrator Hom Bahadur Thapa Magar in Kagbeni: “Another monsoon is coming, and given what happened last year, we urgently need to build embankments but we do not have the resources or manpower to do so.”

Soon, monsoon

While much of the discourse about &nbsp;<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Mustang district concern</a>s its people leaving for better opportunities overseas, what is less well known is that Nepalis from other parts of the country are moving in. Mustang's population is the second smallest among 77 districts, and it is falling due to out-migration. The resident population in the 2021 census was 14,452, with 5,882 people from other parts of Nepal. &nbsp;&nbsp; One of them is Nima Lama, 24. He was born and raised in Kathmandu, and migrated to Mustang to work in the service industry three years ago. He had been searching for a job in Kathmandu for months, but finally found an opening at a hotel in Mustang through a placement agency.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023062309060_4e4405cf10e6f127f90a1cd40feda0b9d8d69efd13093a2563530ca31489ba9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023062309060_4e4405cf10e6f127f90a1cd40feda0b9d8d69efd13093a2563530ca31489ba9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="509" loading="lazy" alt="Upper Mustang"> <figcaption>Lo Manthang is located amidst rolling arid hills of the trans-Himalayan Plateau, Tilicho Peak and Nilgiri in the far distance on the southern horizon.</figcaption> </figure>  “I was skeptical at first, but the job felt appealing and unique, so I decided to come here,” says Lama, pointing that the region with its unique topography and weather offers good opportunities. &nbsp;&nbsp; Mustang is the part of Nepal that juts out into China and is geologically and culturally a part of the Tibetan Plateau. In the past five months, about 60,000 foreign tourists visited Mustang mainly for trekking and pilgrimage to Muktinath. There are many thousands more Nepali visitors.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623100648_dc336f11c6099d1642aeae6e6dc0027d86aabb5328367c8663b30f04187491a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230623100648_dc336f11c6099d1642aeae6e6dc0027d86aabb5328367c8663b30f04187491a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 2"> <figcaption>Many of the shops in Lo Manthang are shuttered because locals moved out, and tourism collapsed for two years due to Covid.</figcaption> </figure>  Some 2,000 foreign tourists also travelled to the restricted region of Upper Mustang by buying a special permit that costs $500 per person for 15 days. Mustang has a range of hotels that cater to high-end and budget tourists, and everything in between. Most homeowners have migrated, and have rented their lodges and hotels to new migrants from other parts of Nepal. Bikram BK, 27, who is from Baglung has been a horse guide for Muktinath pilgrims for the last six years. Local Mustang residents own the horses, but employ people from &nbsp;outside to tend to their horses.&nbsp; “It was difficult finding a job in Baglung, and this was a good offer,” BK says. “The work is easy and I like taking care of horses.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623100648_7a69c06dc99e4793716ada2308efa73157b7276fdd165e0dcbad77de93b97ce9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230623100648_7a69c06dc99e4793716ada2308efa73157b7276fdd165e0dcbad77de93b97ce9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 3"> </figure>  At Paradise Trekker’s Home in Kagbeni another worker from Kathmandu says he likes working here because it “is a unique experience”. His colleague is from Udaypur and does everything from cooking to ploughing the apple fields with a tractor. “Locals own the majority of land and hotels but they do not work here,” explains Karma Namguyal Gurung, a 28-year-old local who has been running his family-owned hotel for the past four years, and is one of few who have remained behind. (See profile below)&nbsp; "Few Mustang people remain. Most of my friends are overseas, and lease out their hotels to people from other districts,” he adds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623090612_7229ee7ca69667507696c943ff521daf570fd1312b1467a97d7f2e6df3c228e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230623090612_7229ee7ca69667507696c943ff521daf570fd1312b1467a97d7f2e6df3c228e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="750" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 4"> </figure>  Mustang's Crown Prince Jigme Bista is also worried about the brain drain from his kingdom, and says this is the reason he opened his up-market Royal Mustang Resort in Lo Manthang.&nbsp; "Since our young are rapidly leaving Mustang, I wanted to create opportunities here,” explains Bista, who aims to retain them by giving them jobs, equipping them with skills in hotel management, and training them to be baristas and chefs. &nbsp; <h2>Return of a native</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023062309068_603f8d4d5d089496a1e1bbaf40fff565b22dda8c8cce402e45685e86b31f1ad4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023062309068_603f8d4d5d089496a1e1bbaf40fff565b22dda8c8cce402e45685e86b31f1ad4" data-rendition-name="original" width="5184" height="3456" loading="lazy" alt="Karma Namguyal Gurung"> <figcaption>PHOTO: SHRIJAN PANDEY</figcaption> </figure>  Karma Namguyal Gurung exemplifies the resilient spirit of a young Mustang entrepreneur committed to preserving his family’s legacy and contributing to the development of tourism in his home district.&nbsp; But Gurung is unique because unlike most local youth, he has not migrated overseas. He moved to Kathmandu as a boy to go to school at a time when he had to walk for a week to get to Pokhara. After getting a hotel management degree, he interned in Dubai for eight months and in Malaysia for three months. Gurung got job offers to stay abroad, but decided to return not just to Nepal, but to go back to Mustang. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel “I felt homesick during that whole time abroad,” recalls Gurung, who missed the cool mountain breeze of Mustang while sweating in the tropical heat of Malaysia and the Gulf. &nbsp; Gurung’s family has been running the Four Seasons Hotel in Muktinath Valley for the past 25 years. But they moved to Kathmandu, and it was getting difficult to run the hotel remotely. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623100648_c29d8feb51716a08ae31ef051a5fa5c1ab13fb54034bed9bd9809b9625d84bea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230623100648_c29d8feb51716a08ae31ef051a5fa5c1ab13fb54034bed9bd9809b9625d84bea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 4"> </figure>  So, he came back four years ago and now manages the family hotel, providing food and lodging especially for pilgrims to Muktinath.&nbsp; “The natives don't run things here, they have mostly left,” Gurung says, admitting that he has also thought of going to a bigger place to earn more. What encourages him to stay is feedback from visitors about his hospitality. “It is really encouraging when guests acknowledge our effort,” he says. ",Mustang is no longer a village, as it was during my childhood. It is becoming cosmopolitan. &nbsp;This place will never be the same again.”&nbsp; The pace of change is evident even in Lo Manthang, where Mustang's Crown Prince Jigme Bista runs the high-end Royal Mustang Resort which fuses traditional and modern architecture. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; “We’ve seen tourists leave on the very first day of a seven-day program due to a lack of facilities,” Bista says. “Our goal is to give tourists who come here for our culture, traditions, and location a fascinating experience.” The hotel sees 4,000 international and local visitors every year, and Bista says the hotel can accommodate many more if the restricted area designation for Mustang is lifted.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung <h2>Better connected</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023062309068_dfe1037005a750b92601a23297e6b7fe900a88858adcc892a2d4baf4ef3f5873.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2023062309068_dfe1037005a750b92601a23297e6b7fe900a88858adcc892a2d4baf4ef3f5873" data-rendition-name="original" width="1683" height="591" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map"> </figure>  Once Nepal’s most isolated region, new road connectivity has made Mustang much more accessible. What used to be a 11-day trek from Pokhara is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/11-day-trek-is-now-a-day-s-drive-in-nepal">now an eight hour jeep ride</a>, and this may come down to five hours once the highway along the Kali Gandaki is upgraded. The river slices through the mountains between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri and is regarded as the deepest gorge in the world. Besides the unstable geology, it also gets heavy rainfall. &nbsp;&nbsp; “This is very difficult terrain to build and maintain roads,” explains Lokendra Adhikari of the Annapurna Conservation Area project. “The road from Ghasa to Lo Manthang is smooth and intact because there is less rain, and the terrain is gentler.” Despite the rough road, Mustang is changing rapidly, and accelerating out-migration of locals. But it has also brought people from Pokhara and Kathmandu to set up businesses here.&nbsp; There is a building spree, and fancy new hotels are coming up to cater to an expected tourism boom. The road has made it easier for children from Upper Mustang now to join boarding schools in Pokhara or Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623090624_f2997aa8458b1f3e5cdc7900c87ea7d474337b7a90a6bc5c0dfe0cf6d3f23251.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20230623090624_f2997aa8458b1f3e5cdc7900c87ea7d474337b7a90a6bc5c0dfe0cf6d3f23251" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang"> </figure>  Hoteliers in Jomsom say there would have been more tourists if the road condition was better and flights safer and more regular. Two crashes of flights from Pokhara in 2016 and 2022 deterred many trekkers and pilgrims. “The Tara Air crashes led to a sharp drop in foreign tourists, so if the road were better we would have seen a rebound,” says Tripple P Gurung, owner of Redhouse in Kagbeni. He adds that most of his guests prefer to brave the road.&nbsp; The monsoon is the lean tourist season in most of Nepal, but it is peak period here in trans-Himalayan districts like Mustang and Dolpo because the weather is milder and drier during June-September. Mustang is becoming especially popular with Nepali tourists who come here to explore the scenic trails on mountain bikes or motorcycles. Now that there is a motorable road right up to the Chinese border at Korala, many hoteliers say it does not make sense to keep Mustang restricted. The hefty fees and the bureaucratic hassles in Kathmandu to get permits are keeping many potential tourists away.&nbsp; “The policy about the restricted area and fees was made 30 years ago taking into account Mustang’s fragile ecology and culture to keep visitor numbers low, but that is not an issue anymore with better connectivity,” says Gurung.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623090624_edcc2a5a02ca63bb8681fd2eaa404a924cf8fdfeb3d8fb78878ac59151cac6d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20230623090624_edcc2a5a02ca63bb8681fd2eaa404a924cf8fdfeb3d8fb78878ac59151cac6d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang"> </figure>  Getting there Now an eight-hour drive from Kathmandu to Pokhara because of highway widening and traffic. Overland: Pokhara to Jomsom 6 hours Jomsom to Lo Manthang &nbsp;6 hours Flight: Kathmandu-Pokhara (overnight)-Jomsom Upper Mustang beyond Kagbeni is still restricted, and foreign tourists have to pay $500 per person for the first 10 days and an additional $50 each day of their visit to the region. Of the nearly 60,000 foreign tourists so far in Mustang, only 2,000 or so continued to Upper Mustang. The fee was reduced in 2005 when Mustang became more accessible, and the restriction on the number of visitors has also been lifted.&nbsp;

Comings and goings in Mustang

Mustang district has always adapted to socio-cultural and trade influences from the south and north, but this trend has accelerated bringing drastic change to the lives and livelihoods of this region north of the Himalaya.&nbsp; When I first visited <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/mustang-safe-for-trekking-post-quake,2416">Mustang </a>in 1992, we had to walk for a week from Pokhara just to get to Muktinath. Today, this shrine is an 8 hour jeep drive from Pokhara. Nearly all villages in the district are now connected to dirt roads. Horses and mules are still seen, now mainly used to haul goods between villages, or to carry manure to farms.&nbsp; Horse race at this year’s Yartung Festival is a symbolic display of the animal in this rugged and arid region, but it is now more of a tourist attraction displaying a way of life that is on the verge of extinction.&nbsp; In the dining hall of a lodge in Kagbeni, a middle aged woman was threading wool to weave jumpers for her grandchildren. I had stayed in the same lodge 10 years earlier. This time, the woman told me that her children had moved to Kathmandu and overseas, and she has rented the hotel to a businessman from Dhading. Many other lodge-owners here have done the same.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041505040_567ff49e881d5587ed0c21e30b66acd43c4c4fe0503ab5cfeba96026a0c301c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023041505040_567ff49e881d5587ed0c21e30b66acd43c4c4fe0503ab5cfeba96026a0c301c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 3"> <figcaption>People from Rukum, Rolpa and Dolpa districts have moved here instead.(Photo: Jagannath Adhikari)</figcaption> </figure>  The pace of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-migration-is-already-happening">outmigration</a> from Mustang has accelerated, as locals move out for better education and jobs. The original Thakali, Loba and Gurung families still own property here, but they hire people from Dolpo, Dhading, Gorkha, Prabat, Maygdi, Rukum and Rolpa to take care of their businesses and farms.&nbsp; In Mustang, highlanders are coming down and lowlanders are moving up. In some cases, down-valley families are simply asked to stay and look after property without paying rent. Some elders still remain, but with the young men and women away, there is a demand for outside caretakers.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel Many of the shops in Jomsom are run by outsiders who have rented the space from the Mustangi. Most jeep drivers are from outside, even though absentee locals own the vehicles. It is in fact difficult to tell a local from an outsider since the migrants have developed good social connections. On this visit, a lodge-owner in Muktinath said he had hired a young manager from Dailekh to look after his place.&nbsp; This could be the reason why despite depopulation of most mountain districts in Nepal, the 2021 census actually recorded an increase in Mustang. In 2001, Mustang’s population was 14,981, it declined to 13,452 in 2011, and bounced back to 14,596 in 2021.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041505040_96e49bbed1f44f698fc2a0a45ac2a7c43a6082ce13bbcc350002153112dcb561.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2023041505040_96e49bbed1f44f698fc2a0a45ac2a7c43a6082ce13bbcc350002153112dcb561" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 4"> <figcaption>There used to be 32 households in Chusang village but there are only a handful now.(Photo: Jagannath Adhikari)</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepalis-moving-from-mountains-to-plains">2021 census </a>also showed that 5,907 people (41% of Mustang’s population) were recent migrants, mostly from outside. Another 1,207 Mustang people live overseas -- two-thirds of them in Europe and North America.&nbsp; Along the traditional trekking route from Lete to Muktinath and Lo Manthang, nearly every house has one or two family members working or living in the US, Japan, France, UK, and Australia. Unlike other parts of Nepal, very few are in the Gulf or Malaysia.&nbsp; Most schools in the district have mainly students from migrant families, and the enrollment has shrunk to as low as 4-12 per primary school. This is why the government is trying to merge schools. A few private medium schools in places like Jomsom have children of local families, but most others have sent theirs to Pokhara or Kathmandu. A prominent politician running a hotel here says that the economy could get a boost if people returned and invested in Mustang. But that is not likely to happen, since most moved out at an early age. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230415040456_93d5b98f9016fee28d6ea494fa287281ccbed23e53b4f73f214e8b3e139b7a33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230415040456_93d5b98f9016fee28d6ea494fa287281ccbed23e53b4f73f214e8b3e139b7a33" data-rendition-name="original" width="768" height="1024" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 2"> </figure>  At this pace of in and out migration, a demographic shift in the district’s ethnic composition may force a redefinition of who a Mustangi is. But migration is not a new phenomenon, in fact even the current inhabitants of Mustang once moved in from Jumla and Tibet.&nbsp; Mustang has a potential to become a trading hub for Chinese commodities, with the upgrading of the road to the border at Korala. Shops in places like Lo Manthang sell mainly goods from north of the border, and the customers are mainly Nepali visitors.&nbsp; Trading opportunities have helped generate income and employment. Mustang’s new ethnic heterogeneity is also enhancing social and cultural capital, and entrepreneurship. But there are also questions as to who is actually benefiting from these changes. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-migration-is-already-happening">Climate migration is already happenning</a> Mustangis are well known as a resilient people well able to adapt to changes. Some of them who moved out when salt trade with Tibet declined in the late 1950s, sought other economic opportunities elsewhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041505044_af7b8f36cdef810b782936589610df1f11bb47f1ffbe724f141ca5c0a7facb7e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2023041505044_af7b8f36cdef810b782936589610df1f11bb47f1ffbe724f141ca5c0a7facb7e" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 5"> </figure>  That trend continues to the present day. They are moving out in search of prosperity while still holding onto property back home, hoping one day to return when things are right.&nbsp; Jagannath Adhikari is an independent researcher on socio-economic and environmental issues, and occasionally teaches in Nepal and overseas. He has authored several books and research articles on these issues.

Winds of change sweep Mustang

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/6372346a9c7e80680e0c4930jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="675"/><figcaption>Lubra Village is under constant threat from flash floods. All Photo: Ronan Wallace</figcaption></figure>As weather patterns change across the world, many communities impacted by the climate crisis go unnoticed, or are disregarded. Himalayan villages are suffering an increase in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/preparing-for-the-big-flood,3190" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">flash floods</a> and droughts.One such community is Lubra village in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lower Mustang</a>, one of the few villages in Nepal fully practicing the Bön Po faith.Lubra has over 800 years of cultural and ancestral significance. Established in the 12th century by Lama Yangton Tashi Gyaltsen, who is said to have crossed over from Tibet, made the area suitable for settlement by subduing the land’s unruly local spirits, and ensured the survival of the Bön belief.Situated at 2,950m, the village today is home to over 100 inhabitants, and has a school with 90 children. Farming their own land, they also carry community responsibilities involving one member from each family.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/6372346c9c7e80680e0c4931jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="763"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There are a handful of mud buildings, guesthouses and fields at the edge of Lubra River. A school, two monasteries, several chörten, a children’s hostel and water tanks span the rest of the land. Although small, Lubra is an important cultural component of Mustang.Every year during the monsoon, the entire valley faces flash floods as the Lubra River’s trickle expands into a 150m wide debris flow of sediment and boulders, spanning the riverbed to meet the Kali Gandaki downstream.https://youtu.be/9rM1y4n1hxUDigital model showing the current state Lubra Village in relation to LubraRiver. Video: RONAN WALLACEThis turns the valley into a concrete mixer, as the sediment-stone-water turns into a viscous sludge. Higher up the valley, the water may not always be able to find passage through the sludge, causing it to be dammed.  Eventually, the blockage gives way, bringing down a rush of aqueous concrete. These <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/danger-nepals-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">flood bursts</a> repeat without fail over two months and swallow any obstacles in its path.Increasingly frequent floods are directly attributed to climate change. Rising temperatures have been altering the water cycle across the Himalaya, including Mustang.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-face-of-a-himalayan-climate-crisis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Human face of a Himalayan climate crisis</a>, Rastraraj Bhandari<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/6372346f9c7e80680e0c4932jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="520"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The region is in the Himalayan <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19611#.WrOj2h1ubIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rain shadow,</a> and monsoon clouds are blocked by the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri massifs. However, rain patterns are changing, and what used to be light, seasonal rain has turned to destructive downpours.Glacial runoff has also been increasing over the last five years. Rangelands upriver from Lubra are deteriorating, loose soil is easily carried downriver in sudden floods.For Lubra, this is disastrous. Living on the edge of the riverbank, families are sitting ducks. When the monsoon season concludes, new sediment sets and hardens like concrete, increasing the height of the riverbed, making the village more susceptible to damage. Over the last decade alone, the riverbed has risen by an astounding 12m in elevation, and buried terrace farms.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234729c7e80680e0c4933jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="713"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234759c7e80680e0c4934jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234789c7e80680e0c4935jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the 2021 monsoon, homes were damaged, leaving two families to take shelter in a guesthouse for three months. Jzikmey, 25, saw the flood rush into the lower most room of his home. Having lived his entire life in Lubra, he felt the loss, but said: “It is what it is. If the next monsoon is like the last one, the rest of my house will be gone.”Because the majority of homes are stacked upon each other on the slope, the main village stands as one building, each home depending on the other for structural and foundational strength.Damage to one home threatens the structural integrity of the entire village, putting families in harm's way. The next two monsoon seasons could leave several families without homes. “In next ten years, the entire village could be gone,” Jzikmey says.For over 20 years, families have tried to adapt by building rock walls using gabion boxes and digging trenches to redirect flow. However, these walls are not as effective as they need to be, since floods flow over the barriers.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/6372347a9c7e80680e0c4936jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1138" height="796"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The community has discussed relocating the entire village to a safer place. However, relocation is no easy task. There are complexities in both civil engineering and the community's opinion.Moving the entire village means considering every aspect of Lubra’s way of life, and asking if it will thrive in the new location. Lubra is having to rethink hundreds of years of cultural and ancestral heritage. Much planning needs to happen, but time is running out.Additionally, families face fears of land security, as allotted plots for personal use might not be guaranteed.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/6372347e9c7e80680e0c4937jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="678"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234809c7e80680e0c4938jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="677"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As the riverbed continues to rise, the need for an immediate, community-conscious solution is evident and imperative. Floods threaten not only the livelihoods of the community, but the security of Bön traditions as well.Decades of culturally significant land is being wiped out, and many families fear that their ancestral heritage will go with it.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Climate-smarter Himalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale

Mustang forced to adapt to climate crisis

<figure><img width="800" height="438" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d133b9c7e80680e0a9911jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>The avalanche that came off Mt Tukuche in Nepal’s Mustang District on 14 November illustrates the kinds of multi-hazards present in the Himalaya. A dozen students fleeing a school below were injured while escaping, and there were reports of widespread livestock loss. Excessive post-monsoon snowfall could have contributed to the avalanche, which also resulted in flooding on a tributary of the Kali Gandaki.</figcaption></figure>Hazards in the Himalaya do not queue up politely to occur one at a time. More often, they occur together and, when they do, their cumulative effect is greater than the sum of their parts. When floods and landslides happen at once, for instance, the impact of each is intensified by the other. Still, it remains common to approach risk reduction for each hazard individually. In Nepal, and the wider Himalayan region, the coincidence of multiple hazards necessitates a multi-hazard approach to disaster risk reduction.At best, considering one hazard at a time is wishful thinking. At worst, single-hazard approaches reduce the risk of one hazard only to increase the risk from others. To avoid these tradeoffs, a multi-hazard approach manages the connections between hazards to reduce overall risk. Shifting perspective from single- to multi-hazard risk may appear subtle, but our recent research shows the stakes are high. Our team studied three dominant hazards — floods, landslides, and wildfires — and found that many Himalayan residents live in areas highly susceptible to more than one of them. If other hazards (like drought, heat stress, or earthquakes) were added to our study, it is likely that the population exposed to multi-hazards would be even higher. The predictions made by hazard models can vary considerably and their results depend especially on which set of previous hazards they consider, but the message emerging from this research is clear: Since many people in the Himalaya live in multi-hazard environments, managing one hazard at a time could have disastrous consequences. <figure><img width="2501" height="1332" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d133e9c7e80680e0a9912jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Importantly, adopting a multi-hazard approach does not mean making things more complicated. Instead, it can identify synergies to address them together, while providing a basis for collaboration for aligning single hazard management and governance practices that could otherwise conflict. A multi-hazard approach is relatively new, but multi-hazards themselves are already here. They can take many forms. Sometimes, one hazard causes another: In 2015, the Mw 7.8 Gorkha earthquake caused thousands of landslides and claimed thousands of lives. Or, in February of this year, a <a href="https://www.icimod.org/article/understanding-the-chamoli-flood-cause-process-impacts-and-context-of-rapid-infrastructure-development/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.icimod.org/article/understanding-the-chamoli-flood-cause-process-impacts-and-context-of-rapid-infrastructure-development/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1TMfOVKuNvXo6wVNvXAAsm">rockslide triggered massive flooding</a> in the Chamoli district of Uttarakhand, claiming over 70 lives and damaging multiple hydropower projects. Other times, hazards happen together. For example, this year’s monsoon season caused <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0GCEQeMHKILrZSwBGgTR4n">destructive flooding and landslides</a> in many districts in Nepal (the effects of which were exacerbated by the ongoing pandemic). Without causing another hazard directly, one hazard can worsen the effects of another, such as last year’s widespread forest fires in Nepal that denuded hillsides, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0jHHk_D84gbE7XCdXxb9ld">making the slopes more prone to landslides, mudflows, and flooding</a>. Other threats loom on the horizon. The latest report by the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) makes it clear that climate-related multi-hazards will become more common and more intense in the future. Glacial lakes at risk of outburst flooding are growing due to climate change, while changing precipitation patterns could make both seasonal flooding and forest fires more frequent and destructive. These changes interact in complex ways, raising the overall threat from multi-hazards. As climate change intensifies multi-hazards, current patterns of urbanisation will continue to put more people in harm’s way. Our research shows a high level of settlement in areas also prone to multi-hazards; people may be unaware of multi-hazard risk, or immediate concerns for their livelihood overrule potential future risk from catastrophic multi-hazards. In either case, people settle in multi-hazard-prone areas to access economic, healthcare, or educational opportunities. Thus, an important component of reducing risk is in providing sustainable livelihoods in less risky areas. Impoverished people in multi-hazard areas may not have the resources necessary to recover from disaster or to settle in safer areas if those areas have lower levels of access.  <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d13419c7e80680e0a9913jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Gender disparities increase risks to women, and religious minorities may not have equal access to disaster preparedness resources in some places. Multi-hazards are natural events with human effects. Thus, beside technical and governance issues, a multi-hazard approach should consider how multi-hazards multiply the risks faced by already vulnerable populations.With a multi-hazard approach, synergies are possible. For instance, <a href="https://www.iucn.org/sites/dev/files/content/documents/bioengineering_brochure_hr.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.iucn.org/sites/dev/files/content/documents/bioengineering_brochure_hr.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2Lq1Jfzk5Xb_CeV6qBLNbk">soil bioengineering</a> is an established set of techniques in Nepal that focuses on conditions — vegetation, drainage, and sediment — that contribute to multiple hazards. By focusing on the conditions where hazards intersect, practices like bioengineering could be more suitable for a multi-hazard environment than those that focus on reducing the risk of a specific hazard alone.Without a multi-hazard approach, reducing the risk from one hazard could increase the risk of another. In the wake of this year’s fire season, for example, unvegetated buffers around developed areas may seem like a good option for preventing fire damage to structures. But these areas more easily erode, potentially contributing to landslides or mudflows. Similarly, slope stabilisation to prevent landslides, especially around road cuts, can increase surface runoff and exacerbate flooding. Engineering approaches are important, but multi-hazard risk reduction is not just a technical problem. Governance issues are at the root of both major opportunities and challenges for mitigating multi-hazard risk. A significant obstacle to adopting a multi-hazard approach is existing mandates for governing bodies to manage single hazards in isolation. For example, federalisation in Nepal gave the Ministry of Home Affairs the mandate to manage forest fire risk, but the mitigation of floods and landslides, which interact with forest fires, often remains at the municipal level. These divisions can lead to conflicts between agencies, while a multi-hazard approach can align mandates otherwise focused on single hazards. Nepal’s Disaster Risk Reduction Strategic Action Plan is already taking steps in this direction.  <figure><img width="4940" height="3965" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d13449c7e80680e0a9914jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In addition to managing connections between hazards, governance practices aimed at reducing multi-hazard risk can facilitate two other forms of collaboration: across borders, and between people, residents and otherwise, with different forms of expertise.First, current collaboration across borders in the Himalaya should be expanded and strengthened. Both hazards and people cross borders, so multi-hazard mitigation must do the same. This last summer, for instance, a landslide-dammed lake in the Rongxer basin in China <a href="https://www.icimod.org/article/the-melamchi-flood-disaster/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.icimod.org/article/the-melamchi-flood-disaster/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2EsX51_SbSWuFjpxRyRC6D">threatened Nepali settlements downstream</a> along the Tama Kosi River with flooding. Further along the same river, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-kosis-sorrow-and-scope/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-kosis-sorrow-and-scope/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0D5xTZ_9lCZdd17ab60kVm">sedimentation in Nepal is one of many factors</a> contributing to downstream flooding in Bihar, India. The establishment of cross-border early warning agreements is an important way to reduce these risks and is a first step toward connecting upstream and downstream risk reduction through a multi-hazard approach.Second, the collaboration between people with different types of knowledge about hazard risk — including technical, development, and local experts — is essential for ensuring the success of risk reduction programs. An inspiring precedent for this kind of collaboration is the development of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0m8l5RSFN5WSy2wB1oMXhv">jholmal</a> natural fertiliser and pesticide. The development of jholmal required combining local practices with the work of technical specialists and efforts to reduce chemical runoff and farming costs to create a cost-effective formula easily communicated to and replicated by the region’s residents and other local experts. This collaborative and multi-pronged approach can serve as model for mitigating multi-hazard risk. A focus on multi-hazards does not contradict the need to reduce the risk associated with individual hazards; instead, a multi-hazard approach is an opportunity to align risk reduction measures to avoid tradeoffs and find synergies. Adopting a multi-hazard approach may present technical or governance challenges but the opportunity is clear: in the face of ongoing climate change and urbanisation, effective disaster risk reduction in environments such as Nepal, the Himalaya, and other mountainous regions necessitates a multi-hazard approach.Jack Rusk is a member of the <a href="https://urbanhimalaya.yale.edu/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://urbanhimalaya.yale.edu/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1cdFH8tcfgFtKCY-vVpPAE">Urban Himalaya</a> research team. Urban Himalaya is an international, interdisciplinary, collaborative research partnership that seeks to understand urbanization and vulnerability in the Himalaya. Our <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0048969721051147" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0048969721051147&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1637032361315000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3MqefP8QtVEj91d-Qi1u3b">recent research</a> on multi-hazards was published in the journal Science of the Total Environment.

Multipronged response to Nepal’s multi-hazards

Fenerbahçe Beko won the Turkish Airlines EuroLeague finals in Abu Dhabi, held 23-25 May, defeating Monaco 81-70 in the final. Olympiacos, who defeated Panathinaikos 97-93, finished the series in third place. The Most Valuable Player (MVP) of the final match, Nigel Hayes-Davis from Fenerbahçe Beko, received a prize of 1,000,000 Miles&amp;Smiles from Turkish Airlines’ Chief Commercial Officer Ahmet Olmuştur. The carrier has been the title sponsor of the Turkish Airlines EuroLeague, a top tier tournament, since 2010.

Turkish Basketball

While Nepal was hosting the Sagarmatha Sambaad international climate conference in Kathmandu this month, on Mt Everest it was pretty much business as usual.&nbsp; The signs of climate breakdown are all there: a river now runs through Base Camp in summer, the Khumbu Icefall is more unstable, and there are more &nbsp;frequent avalanches. When expeditions arrived in March, the mountains were bare: it had not snowed since September, but then blizzards dumped unseasonal snow in May. And despite climate worries, such is the pull of Himalayan mountaineering that the Everest Industry showed no signs of slowdown. More than 600 international climbers and their Nepali guides had made it to the summit of the world’s highest mountain. At one point there were an estimated 2,000 people in the tent city on the Khumbu Glacier. All the ropes and ladders on the Icefall came down on Thursday, marking the official end of the spring climbing season, and just in time to avoid a monsoon cyclone approaching from the Bay of Bengal. It has been an action-packed season. One factor could be that Everest fees will go up from September: each foreign climber needs to pay a $15,000 royalty, up from the present $11,000. The cost for a Nepali climber on the South Col route will also go up: from Rs75,000 to Rs150,000.&nbsp; The fee to climb Everest in autumn is $7,500 (up from $5,500), but most climbers still prefer spring. Winter permit fee (December-February) is only $3,750 per person and the mountain is now also open for monsoon (June-August) climbs, when the fee is ever lower at $2,750. The revised rule also makes it mandatory for every two climbers on an 8,000m peak to hire one Nepali mountain guide.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046" data-rendition-name="original" width="931" height="732" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry graph 1"> </figure>  In addition, climbers also have to pay for porters and guides, equipment, Base Camp costs, Ice Fall and fixed rope team fees, so climbing Everest does not come cheap. But such is the draw of climbing the world’s highest peak that some say the increased fees will not diminish the crowds next year. The government has tried to spread expeditions out to other seasons and other 8,000ers, but with not much success. Earlier this year, Nepal unilaterally increased the number of 8,000m peaks to 14 by adding six more sub-summits to broaden the choice for climbers. Added were: Yalung Kang (8,505m), Yalung Kang West (8,077m) &nbsp;Kangchenjunga Central (8,473m), Kangchenjunga South (8,476m), Lhotse Middle (8,410m) and Lhotse Shar (8,400m).&nbsp; The announcement could go against the accepted topographic criteria that a stand alone peak has to be at least 300m higher than an adjoining prominence, and at more than 3km isolation from it. The UIAA (Union Internationale des Associations d'Alpinisme) still recognises only 14 mountains as eight-thousanders, and only eight of those are in Nepal, or on the border with China. Nepal’s revised mountaineering regulations also increased the insurance coverage of high-altitude workers to protect porters and high altitude guides who usually take more risks on the mountains. Rescue teams and clean-up campaigners to collect trash and remove bodies of dead climbers up to Camp IV of Mt Everest do not need permits.&nbsp; The Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee is now using drones to fly down trash in 20kg sacks. Each climber is also required to bring down at least 6kg of waste and not just their own, but this rule is erratically enforced. With five fatalities on Everest and Lhotse, Spring 2025 had a historically low death toll. Another five climbers died on Annapurna, Kangchenjunga and Makalu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a" data-rendition-name="original" width="665" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest industry graph 2"> </figure>  Journalist Ben Ayers who ran the Everest Live social media channel from Everest Base Camp with daily updates credited the low death rate to dramatic rescues of climbers from the ‘Death Zone’ by their Nepali guides and longline helievacs — the visuals all uploaded on YouTube.&nbsp; “Ironically, this perception of safety is bringing more and more inexperienced climbers to the mountain, and they need more rescues,” Ayers said in one of his dispatches.&nbsp; American expedition chronicler and summiteer Alan Arnette suspects there is a lot of under-reporting given that the jet stream and storms were lashing Everest even till late in the season. He told us: “I heard a lot about frostbite and rescues that were not made public. It’s become practically impossible to cover the details on Everest. All the teams report nice news, and they don’t talk about bad stuff to avoid hurting businesses.” Although trash on Nepal’s mountains makes headlines, what does not receive as much attention is the climate impact of so many expeditions. The Sagarmatha Sambaad conference sidestepped this issue, which is ironic given that the impact of climate breakdown is most evident on Himalayan peaks and their glaciers.&nbsp; <h2>Need for Speed</h2> The big stories this year have been about speed-running from their home cities to the top of Everest. Ukrainian entrepreneur Andrew Ushakov flew out of JFK on 15 May at 10:15AM Nepal time, and was on the summit 3 days, 23 hours, and 7 minutes later on 19 May at 9:22AM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1800" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry"> <figcaption>Andrew Ushakov at the summt. Photo: ELITE EXPED</figcaption> </figure>  “I could never find the time for the traditional 40-50 days of acclimatisation,” Ushakov explained matter-of-factly. His ‘Everest Sea-to-Summit’ climb was possible because he spent 400 hours in hypoxic sleep tents over the past four years in New York. However, Ushakov did use ropes already fixed, hired four Nepali guides, helicoptered to Base Camp, and used much more oxygen than an average climber. And after the climb, Ushakov was arrested at Kathmandu airport for being in possession of $20,000 of undeclared cash and spent a night in jail and fined $60,000.&nbsp; The other speedsters were Garth Miller, Alastair Cairns, Anthony Stazicker, and Kev Godlington, all former British Army commandos. They left London and summited five days later on 21 May, and flew right back. They also used hypoxic tents to simulate the thin air high on Everest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="668" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry "> <figcaption>All four members of the Furtenbach team at the summit. Photo: Sandro Gromen-Hayes</figcaption> </figure>  But more controversial was their use of xenon gas therapy in a German hospital to ramp up the production of oxygen-carrying haemoglobins in their blood. Xenon is banned by the World Anti-Doping Agency for being performance enhancing in sports. Expedition leader Lukas Furtenbach said this rule does not apply to mountaineering, as it is not a regulated sport like swimming. Nepal has no rules about xenon, but the Department of Tourism said it was launching an ‘investigation’ to decide on future policy since it is difficult to ban xenon, but allow oxygen. The controversy has also divided the mountaineering community, with some climbers saying they just want to maximise their chances of survival. Spending less time on the mountain could make climbing safer by reducing avalanche risk. It would also mean less trash on the mountains, but it would reduce the income of Nepal’s expedition industry. It is also unclear how much of the success was due to xenon therapy and whether the ex-special forces were already in good physical shape.&nbsp; The need for speed hides the fact that climbing in the Himalaya is dangerous business, and climbers cannot sprint to the top just by huffing xenon. But ultra-fast climbs could be charged more, and the revenue generated can be used to establish state-of-the-art rescue operations, and increase pay and insurance for guides. Two other speed chasers this season were Swiss-Ecuadorian Karl Egloff and American Tyler Andrews, both on Everest without oxygen. Andrews choppered to Base Camp to catch a weather window, but turned back from 8,500m due to high winds. Heavy snow and wind also forced Egloff to descend from 7,000m. Slow and steady climbers like Anja Blacha from Germany did make it to the summit without oxygen, while Kami Rita Sherpa broke his own record with his 31st Everest summit as he led a 26-strong Indian Army group. There were 468 permits issued for foreign climbers from 48 expeditions to Everest this spring. Nepal’s other eight-thousanders together had only 17 expeditions. Nepal has more than 1,000 peaks above 6,000m, and has opened only 476 of them for climbing.&nbsp;

The Everest Industry

While Nepal marked <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a> Day on 29 May, on the other side of the planet in the US state of Colorado dozens of Nepalis who have climbed the world’s highest peak multiple times were busy working as chefs and Uber drivers. Among them is Nima Doma Sherpa, who climbed Mt Everest in 2019 after her husband Tshering Wangchu was among 16 crushed by an avalanche on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/on-thin-ice-in-the-khumbu">the Khumbu Icefall</a> five years earlier. A large serac broke off the West Shoulder of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Mt Everest </a>and fell directly on a group of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/more-porters-sick-on-everest-trail">porters and guides</a> making their way up the Icefall at 5,800m. Their bodies were flown by helicopter to Khumjung where Tshering Wangchu was born. He was excited about climbing Mt Everest for the first time.&nbsp; In Khumjung, Nima Doma felt like her own life had also ended. This was the kind of news Sherpa wives, mothers and sisters dreaded every <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">mountaineering season</a>. She stayed home for more than two years grieving, but ultimately gathered up all her emotional strength to take care of her 6-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter. Nima had grown up in Khumjung hearing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/stories-of-nepal-s-summiteers">tales of adventure on the mountains </a>from their father, Ang Chubi Sherpa who had climbed Everest in 1993. He used to bring her and her sisters and brother European chocolates after every expedition, and used to tell them that the chocolate bars grew on the mountains. “It was only after we got older did we realise that he told us that chocolates grew in the mountains so we would not worry about him putting himself in harm's way,” Nima Doma recalled with a faraway look at her home in Boulder this week. Nima went to the school that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/commemorating-edmund-hillary-in-nepal,4145">Edmund Hillary</a> opened in Khumjung till Grade 8, and then dropped out to help in the kitchen and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">tend yaks</a>. She was married off to Tshering Wangchu, who was also a high altitude guide. When Tshering went on expeditions, Nima also started working as a porter from Namche to Base Camp. It was perhaps her father’s tales of mountains of chocolates that had always attracted her to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/knowing-our-mountains-43v4iyvo">the peaks</a>. After her husband was killed ten years ago this month, being a widow with children was not easy for Nima Doma. But she was not alone: there were at least 200 single mothers in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khumbu-since-1950-jaww4qn0">the Khumbu</a>, and 20 of them just in Khumjung whose husbands had been killed in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragic-start-to-himalayan-spring-nepal,3695">mountaineering accidents</a>. Some were not even 20 years old, and had children growing up without fathers. But there were also women in the 50s whose husbands had been killed in the 1980s. Nima found sponsors for her children’s education, and moved to Kathmandu. In the capital, Sherpa widows used to meet to help each other. Some of them had joined the Nepal Mountaineering Association (NMA) training for rock and ice climbing. “I decided that it was no use sitting home and crying anymore, after meeting other single mothers I felt less alone,” remembers Nima, who joined the Juniper Foundation and enrolled in an NMA training camp in Manang. There she climbed Chulu East (6,584m) and met Furadiki Sherpa, whose rope-fixing husband had also been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities">killed on Everest</a> in 2013. They set themselves the goal of climbing Everest one day, and started a fund-raising drive.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2678" height="1274" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  “We decided we had to overcome society’s stigma of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/widows-personal-happiness-comes-last-in-face-of-social-financial-hardships,1855">widowhood</a> and prove that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-junko-tabei">women could also climb mountains</a>,” Nima said, adding that she was inspired by Nepal’s first woman Everest summiteer Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, who died during her descent in 1993. Nima Doma and Furdiki climbed the technically-difficult Ama Dablam (6,812m) and then arrived at Everest Base Camp in April 2019 as part of their Two Widows Expedition with the motto, ‘So Can We’. While climbing up the Icefall Nima passed the spot where her husband had been killed. It was a jumble of constantly-shifting ice blocks bigger than houses. She closed her eyes and said a prayer. “I remember thinking, this is so difficult and dangerous. This is what my husband had to do to support our family,” Nima Doma said. “I was determined to fulfil my husband’s dream of climbing Chomolungma, and to prove to ourselves that we two women could do it.” It was 23 May 2019 when <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/world/two-sherpa-widows-scale-everest-and-smash-stigma-idUSKCN1SU0MV/" target="_blank">Nima and Furdiki stepped on the summit</a> and looked over into Tibet, and down at Tengboche Monastery to the south.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b.png" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="1522" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  Nima Doma hugged Furdiki, took off her mask and wept. But for the first time in five years, it was not from grief but relief — relief for being free of all the sadness and sacrifices and for fulfilling her husband’s dream. They had found <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-after-death">life after death</a>. “I felt this immense joy to be on top of the world, it was indescribable,” Nima Doma said, “I have wept only twice in my life. Once when my husband died, and once there on top of Everest.” The tears had frozen on Nima Doma’s cheeks, as she and Furdiki headed back down the mountain.

Everest summiteers find new life in the US

At the edge of the dense forest overlooking Bhaktapur, the sound of chirping birds and the wind rustling through the trees have been replaced by the growl of dozens of bulldozers. This Kakrabari Community Forest behind Suryabinayak shrine was c<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">arefully protected and managed </a>by the local Tamang community for centuries. Today, heavy earthmovers claw noisily at the slope, opening it up like a big red wound. With little land left in the densely populated city, developers are venturing further afield to the valley’s rim and forcibly taking over forests that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local communities </a>have depended on for fodder, firewood and to protect their watershed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  This project of Nic Vujicic Housing Company in Suryabinayak’s Kakrabari Bhanjyang is just the latest and most blatant example of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests">encroachment of forests </a>by real estate developers in collusion with local government officials. “One day, they just came and bulldozed my house,” says Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda, whose family has been living in a tent since March. “Company workers gathered my belongings, deposited them in this tent and demolished my house.” Unlike some of her neighbours, Lama refused to give up her home, but stood no chance against the heavy machines and strongmen mobilised by the company.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda whose house was bulldozed last month. She and her family are now living in makeshift huts nearby.</figcaption> </figure>  Adds Shanta: “I have not signed any document of agreement, the company keeps telling me that they will settle the paperwork later.” Her neighbour Bal Bahadur Tamang, says a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ordinary-nepalis-extraordinary-sacrifice"> bulldozer razed his house</a> while he was out grazing goats in the forest. He recalls: “My wife shouted to the neighbours for help, but no one heard her.” &nbsp; The company used strongarm tactics to try to force Bal Bahadur to sign away his small plot at the edge of the forest that the housing company needed. The family refused, so the property was simply taken over. “Many families have been forcibly evicted from their homes and moved elsewhere to make way for the new housing colony,” says Bal Bahadur. But such is the fear of the young vigilantes employed by the company, that they are afraid to speak out.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Many families this one have been forcibly evicted, and do not want to speak openly because of the fear of vigilantes. </figcaption> </figure>  But there appears to be a generational divide among the local community in Ghising Danda. Many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men">young men have migrated</a> to the city or abroad, but those that remain have been promised jobs and a piece of land by the company, and support the project.&nbsp; For centuries, Suryabinayak communities have tended to the land, and the land has tended to them. The protected trees provide them with livelihood,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/multipronged-response-to-nepal-s-multi-hazards"> prevent landslides</a> on the slopes above and recharge ground water so the springs do not go dry. But this historic connection was severed in January when the excavators arrived to chop down trees and dig up the hill, razing 1.1 hectares of the community forest and surrounding settlements.&nbsp; Much of the forest is now gone, and recent rains have washed the red mud down the mountain like a bleeding gash. On a recent visit excavators were levelling the slope.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing is owned by Purna Bahadur Limbu, Prabin Kusma and Dillidhwaj Baraili. It had parcelled 14.6 hectares in the neighbouring Palanse village three years ago, and was even awarded by the municipality for the project.&nbsp; Now, the company is clearing 27 hectares of private property and community forest in Ghising Danda without a planning permit either from the municipality or the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA).&nbsp; In fact, its application has been pending at the Authority since last October. The company has dangled a lollipop by promising 21 out of the 451 private plots to the government.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  Nepal’s 2015 Basic Standards for the Development of Settlements, and Urban Planning and Building Construction by-laws stipulate that land transactions, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-building-bridges-in-tasmania">construction projects</a>, and housing development via land consolidation require approval from either the KVDA or local government.&nbsp; Projects involving land up to 0.1 hectares require permission from the local level, and those of up to 2.5 hectares require approval from the district authorities, and plans exceeding that area need a permit from the KVDA.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing’s director Dillidhwaj Baraili, is a member of the Federation of Nepalese Industries and Entrepreneurs (FENIE), and close to the ruling UML party.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  While the company did consult with locals, conduct an EIA, tested soil quality, and conducted a hydrological study of the area, these were perfunctory and incomplete for a proper permit application. The approval of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/mind-the-gap-6liiyw5w"> private landowners </a>and the municipality as well as project details were missing.&nbsp; The company had excavated half of Ghising Danda without permission when the local community started raising questions. Only then did it seek permission from the ward, which directed it to apply for a planning permit from the Suryabinayak Municipality.&nbsp; “We are yet to verify whether all the documents submitted by the company are in order, which is why the application is still pending,” Rajendra Prasad Nepal, the municipality’s information officer, told Nepali Times.&nbsp; But the lack of a permit does not seem to deter company director Dillidhwaj Baraili, who uses convoluted semantics to justify using excavators on private and community land. &nbsp; “It is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-unreal-real-estate-prices">plotting of the land</a> that requires approval from the KVDA, we do not need permission from local authorities to operate heavy machinery on the project site,” Baraili told us. However, Ward 9 Chair Bhagwan Khatri says no such permission to use excavators and bulldozers have been given without first obtaining a planning permit. “The housing project is illegal because it has moved forward without a planning permit,” says KVDA’s District Commissioner for Bhaktapur, Safal Shrestha. When the bulldozers started felling trees in the community forest in March, a joint task force of four local guthi put up a resistance, and demanded that the housing company ensure that there would be no mudslide danger downslope <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">during the monsoon</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Dozens of heavy earthmovers were at work at this site one morning earlier this month. With an early monsoon, residents fear mud slides.</figcaption> </figure>  It also wanted the company to make sure the flow of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-heat-beneath-our-feet">water in springs</a> were not affected, and to set up a boundary along the community forest to prevent further encroachment. It also demanded compensation to displaced homeowners.&nbsp; But Nic Vujicic Housing paid no heed, and sent in excavators. Last month, the Kakrabari Community Forest Users Struggle Committee wrote to the Bhaktapur District Administration Office, Suryabinayak Municipality, and the Division forest Office to halt the project. In response, the housing company put out a press release accusing residents of spreading rumours, but the statement presented contradicting information about the status of its planning permit at various levels of the government. &nbsp; It has taken a month for the local government to even send an inspection team to the site. But the team concluded that the forest had been encroached upon and asked the housing company to halt its activities immediately.&nbsp; The company refused to comply, and on 9 May the Police was sent to shut down the project. Baraili maintains the forest was levelled with the consent of all four Guthi as well as Ram Krishna Tamang of the Kakrabari Community Forest User group. Tamang told us he has given no such go-ahead.&nbsp; “How could we have permitted the operation of construction machinery in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/safeguarding-the-soul-of-sal">community forest </a>when the Nepal government itself does not allow the destruction of public property?” adds Tamang. Because of the controversy, the company is now trying to use a carrot and stick approach by placating the local community, while also intimidating those who speak out. “Even though we had obtained permission, perhaps we should have not started using our heavy machinery yet,” Baraili admitted. However, the company is trying to silence dissenters in the community with threats. The company has deployed local youth who have been promised jobs to convince and cajole outspoken community members in Ghising Danda. &nbsp; One of them is Chewang Tamang, who says jobs are more important, and lashes out at locals for being “anti-development”. He says: “There is no point sitting around complaining that a few trees have been cut. The only people who are opposed to this project are those who do not want this place to develop.” &nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2F6TRxyQjbo50%3Fsi%3DjMRyrgfB9tTX8pP8&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div>