This is the 68th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father died before I was two, and I do not have any memory of him. In fact, I do not even have a picture with him. There were some faded photographs of him, but they were lost in the earthquake. From what I know, he was a mason and was bed-ridden after a work accident. So it has always been my mother. I cannot speak about her without getting emotional. She raised us five boys as a single mother. Despite our economic condition, she did not let us feel deprived of anything.&nbsp; All the neighbourhood children went to school except me, so I demanded my mother send me to school as well. I doubt that my mother even knew that it was important for children to have &nbsp;schooling.&nbsp; It was only after starting school that I realised that it was not a whole lot of fun. Somehow I did manage to study till Grade 12, but it was music that I was obsessed with. As Newars, we have many festivals that involve music.&nbsp; I played instruments during our festivals, and had a knack for picking up techniques just from watching the elders play. My passion for music overtook interests like sports and dance. As I grew older, I listened to music of all genres.&nbsp; We could not afford formal music classes, so I had to learn by watching others play. My friends and I started playing together and formed a band. We organised cultural programs and concerts. Our first metal bands were called Aspirin and Jadecula, names that my friend gave, but I do not think they mean anything. Since then, I have been part of many bands but what we earned was barely enough to cover taxi fares and maintain instruments.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605110628_efc75f0da5b9c44ce2b4f1ba864dbfb8d0a36c11eb588d9d8eb7461fb6695f45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250605110628_efc75f0da5b9c44ce2b4f1ba864dbfb8d0a36c11eb588d9d8eb7461fb6695f45" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="480" loading="lazy" alt="Song of work and freedom NT"> <figcaption>Ashik dropped out of school, taught himself music, and posed with friends before leaving Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Many of my former band members are arrangers, vocalists, and instructors, but others left because a career in music was not worthwhile. Perhaps that is the story of many Nepalis who have to set aside their passion and talent to support their families. Passion for anything usually weakens as we get older. But not for me, my interest in music only grew. When the pandemic hit, life got very difficult. As a musician I was a free bird doing frequent gigs, but I felt suffocated and caged during the lockdown. It got intolerable, so I decided to go overseas, to Dubai.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yjoyzoU_jwQ?si=gwTIiUHK1mCxbYAp" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> My plan was to take up a regular job and continue music on the side. I took my guitar with me, which was not a common sight on planes flying from Kathmandu to the Gulf. I remember stowing it in the overhead bin above my seat to ensure it was safe. A day or two after arriving I went to Kalba Beach in Fujairah, and was so excited to see the sea that I ran to the waves fully dressed. That happiness did not last because I realised that the recruiter in Nepal had screwed me over. There was no job waiting for me in Dubai as promised.&nbsp; I used up the money I had taken with me paying rent and buying food. It got so difficult that I could not even afford to eat. I ate khaboosh and missed Nepali dal bhat. I would think about my mother and pine for home. In our family in Nepal we could not even eat rice and my mother used to prepare dhindo. She had a soft spot for her youngest and managed to give me some rice, and that caused fights among us siblings. How did my mother manage, I wondered as I struggled out there in the UAE.&nbsp; Even now, she has never asked me for a single paisa, which surprises me. In her eyes, as the youngest son, I am still a kid. As you grow up, you think of your childhood memories that you took for granted. And when caught in difficult situations, those moments sting you even harder.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605110628_1a46c780db290e848f57dbe51cb701981b4032d8075da969f6ea04b9d7fdacaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250605110628_1a46c780db290e848f57dbe51cb701981b4032d8075da969f6ea04b9d7fdacaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="853" loading="lazy" alt="Song of work and freedom NT"> </figure>  I did not tell my mother about how hard it was in the UAE, I did not want her to worry. I only told a few friends, and they offered help.&nbsp; I help others, but it is not in my nature to ask for help for myself. Maybe it is from fear of rejection, which I would not be able to handle. I am used to keeping my troubles to myself.&nbsp; I continued to practice singing despite the trouble I was in, but was not able to create new music because my mental state did not allow space for creativity. I decided not to come home because I had resolved to make something of myself before returning.&nbsp; As luck would have it, I was walking past a café in Dubai one day when I heard some music inside. I asked the Bangladeshi security guard about the live music and managed to get the number of the owner. The sound technician had quit, so I was hired for live performances.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2babCF13IDk?si=J7V5HVmJpgbcb1Zy" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> After a year, I got poached by a Nepali customer who came to the café who had started a club in Dubai. I get to sing there in Nepali for Nepalis, and give them a respite from a hard day at work. The songs remind the workers of home, and some are in tears when I sing songs like यो मन त मेरो नेपाली हो.&nbsp; I came to Nepal recently to participate in the Mero Voice Universe competition. It is more stressful auditioning than performing in regular concerts, where a few small mistakes will not matter so much. In an audition the judges only give you one shot at it. Even so, platforms like this help struggling artists like me gain more exposure and reach a bigger audience.&nbsp; I have come a long way from the Rs650 I earned after my first gig in Kathmandu where I sang Teri Diwani by Kailash Kher, which I still perform today.&nbsp; But I need to do a lot more in my life.

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Song of work and freedom

This is the 60th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. <h2>Dil Bahadur Tamang</h2> I come from a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-class-divide-widens">middle-class family</a>, and my father did all he could to make sure we had a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality">proper education</a>. I really wanted to be an engineer, but was not that good in studies and my father could not afford to pay for college. So I joined Korean language classes instead. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/long-wait-over-nepalis-return-to-korea">In Korea</a>, I was blown away by the infrastructure and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/development-destruction-yt3t1yhu">development</a>. But once I entered my company premises, it was a different story. It was a smelly place with piles of trash.&nbsp; This was not the standard ‘foreign company’ of my imagination. I had been placed with a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/everest-garbage-caravan">plastic recycling</a> company, and worked three years there before it went bankrupt. I switched to a welding company. Korea taught me the value of work and time, and more importantly, just how much of a difference being within a system can make. &nbsp; <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> I randomly came across an acquaintance who was a Korea returnee and jokingly told him that I also wanted to go. He talked about a new Government-to-Government (G2G) scheme called EPS, and told me I should give it a shot. It would be cheaper and more rewarding, but I had to pass a language test. My first <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">job in Korea</a> was drying animal leather, but a year later I moved to a plastic company before returning to Nepal to start my own <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/biodegradable-plastic-launched-in-nepal">plastic manufacturing </a>venture with Shahadev.&nbsp; Despite having skills and experience, I quickly realised that it was difficult to remain competitive with 18 hours of daily power cuts. We were afraid of losing our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya?fbclid=IwAR3lAnpyoOKTvyb9ekXulEcPzzZCfBmLYLZq950Bv6ElccPHVPM2175ABeI">hard earned money</a>.&nbsp; So Shahadev and I decided to remigrate and joined our previous company in Korea. This time, the thought of “नेपाल गएर के गर्ने?” kept gnawing at me. The skills and experience I acquired in Korea were not usable back home, where my heart was. &nbsp; I used to go to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-easy-for-nepal-to-buffalo-meat-to-china">meat</a> shop nearby, where the shopkeeper, an elderly woman, was nice to me. We used to chat, and I wondered if I could start something similar in Nepal: a well-organised meat shop.&nbsp; My friend and I started <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage">applying for jobs</a> in the meat sector. We wanted to work at a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees">pig farm</a>, but got jobs in a meat processing plant. <h2>Shahadev Gurung</h2> We were the first lot that went to Korea under the EPS scheme. Korea had a good image in our community, a place where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/let-s-listen-to-nepal-s-young-changemakers">young Nepalis</a> could make something of themselves.&nbsp; Prabin and I went on the same flight, we worked in the same plastic company, and changed to the same meat processing company. We thought it would be easy, and would be simply cutting meat like we did back home. But there everything had to be cut just right. It was a new experience and initially felt complicated. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/meat-money-and-the-middle-class">Meat, money, and the middle class</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040328_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250321040328_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bringing Korea's prosperity to Nepal NT"> <figcaption>BACK HOME: (Left to right) Dil Bahadur Tamang making a pitch at the RIN program. Prabin Shrestha at his shop in Nepal. Sahadev Gurung cutting meat surgically.</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> Our employer told us that he had started with nothing, and made a lot of money selling meat. With just a knife and focus on hygiene, you can do a lot if you put your mind to it, he used to tell us.&nbsp; It was like surgery. Every part mattered. Knowing that these skills could be an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-equaliser">investment back home</a>, we were keen to learn everything about cutting meat perfectly.&nbsp; After work, we used to take home the bones to assemble a skeleton so we could learn about all the parts. We would memorise the names and familiarise ourselves with the right angle of the knife to slice them with. We were so obsessed we learnt in 2.5 months what took others six months. Our employer gave us raises. <h2>Dil Bahadur Tamang</h2> After we <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/returning-to-nepal-has-its-rewards">returned to Nepal</a>, we started Hankook Meat Mart. I have known my co-founder Prabin Shrestha for 25 years, he is like family to me. We studied together, went to Korea together. Even before we left Nepal, we knew that we would one day run a business together. Returning from Korea, we studied the market for months before launching the business, visiting meat shops and talking to people.&nbsp; We learnt that oversupply of meat reduced the price and put quality farmers at a disadvantage. Even when we found cheaper suppliers, we set a floor price for our meat suppliers who were picked based on whether they fed the pigs proper feed and not waste, and if the animals were 6-8 months old.&nbsp; We also realised that pork meat parts are not separated but mashed together. Hygiene and quality also fluctuated. Consumers get good meat one day and the next day the same shop sold meat that was difficult even to chew.&nbsp; Imported meat was available, but costly. Our niche was going to be quality, premium meat.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040328_90757fa0c57e4e8254e764f556f528d382a0b4e8cb75caa3fe0a2cb52c8e77ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250321040328_90757fa0c57e4e8254e764f556f528d382a0b4e8cb75caa3fe0a2cb52c8e77ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Bringing Korea's prosperity to Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Hankook Meat Mart stood second in the Returnee Innovators Showcase that was organised by The Bridge International and funded by KOICA.</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Shahadev Gurung</h2> The three of us work well together even after all these years. There is a strong trust between us. Each of us individually carry out our duties well. That I think is what has worked for us to help us endure this long partnership. The skills we learnt in Korea have stayed with us, and we are still reaping the benefits. Current EPS workers engaged in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal">agriculture sector </a>can benefit here as the skills can be used, but you have to be willing to work hard in Nepal just like you do <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/grass-is-greener-overseas-for-nepals-doctors">overseas</a>.&nbsp; You cannot slow down just because you are in Nepal. It is also helpful to think about your return while overseas, that makes transitioning to Nepal much easier. <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> Korea for me was like a university where I learnt a lot. When I came home, my suitcase was full of knives, aprons for meat processing.&nbsp; There are so many things that we can learn <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">overseas</a>, small things that would make our lives easier here. All I learnt was to cut meat. But we have created jobs for 30-40 people, while being close to family. We don’t have to dream very big. I enjoy working in Nepal. I saw many cottage industries that started small in Korea that I found inspiring so we bring machines from Korea and run shops that &nbsp;make rice cakes and kimchi. We are opening a new branch, and a small Korean restaurant. My former boss who visited us in Nepal is thrilled with our progress and even gifted us a meat slicer. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal</a>, Mahesh Sah Working in Nepal is not always easy, of course, the trick is to try to find happiness even in those tough moments. That makes life easier. This kind of hustle can scare some people and dissuade many but we have to build the appetite for it because one day, these experiences will become part of our story, our journey. &nbsp;

Bringing Korea’s prosperity to Nepal

This is the 57th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. I worked overseas for 16 years in Qatar, Dubai and Seychelles in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/good-housekeeping">housekeeping</a>. I have even been involved in the pre-opening of seven 5-star properties abroad. In 1996, I had to pay Rs35,000 to the recruiter for my Qatar job. Back then that was a lot of money, which my family could not afford. No one was able to help, perhaps because I could not convince them that I would pay them back.&nbsp; Eventually, it was my father’s friend who sold his buffalo to loan the money. I vividly remember that kind gesture. Had he not helped, I probably would not be where I am today.&nbsp; Everyone faces challenges in life, but there are very few who are pillars of support during tough times. I told my father from Qatar to let his friend pick the buffalo of his choice to repay him. I had flown out of Kathmandu, all excited, wearing a suit and tie. But the minute I got off the plane in Doha, the heat hit me and the coat came off, and the tie-knot was loosened. I immediately started thinking that I had made a mistake to go there.&nbsp; But I was lucky to get a job indoors in a hotel that had good facilities, not like many Nepalis who had to toil in the heat. I was one of the first cohorts, the first Nepali, at the Sheraton in Doha.&nbsp; Within a couple of years, there were 76 Nepalis working at the hotel. As test hires, we left a good impression on management and won their trust, which subsequently opened doors for more Nepalis.&nbsp; To be born as a Nepali means to be born to work hard and struggle. And that is what I did all those years abroad. I also wanted to advance in my career by earning a higher salary, get promoted. Now, what (अब के?) was the question I often pondered.&nbsp; While working as an attendant, I took up cross-training in my free time which prepared me for my role as a supervisor. This made me ready for the position when the right time came. I was promoted in the following years in hotels across &nbsp;<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrants-returning-from-the-gulf-with-infertility">the Gulf</a>. The highlight was to get a chance to serve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra</a> and his family who stayed at Doha Sheraton on their way back to Nepal from the UK in 1999. The royal couple chatted with us casually and asked us about our wages and job facilities, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">life overseas</a> and families back home. It felt like they were our guardians. I was in Dubai when I learnt of the royal massacre in 2001, and the memories of serving our king and queen three years previously came rushing back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025021407020_32adfd3afeff2491991abfc83adeffcb3dbb2b5cc329a5bcfa798641a0db33ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025021407020_32adfd3afeff2491991abfc83adeffcb3dbb2b5cc329a5bcfa798641a0db33ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Now, what DD 57 NT"> </figure>  When I first went to Qatar, I was raw clay, but I fell into the right hands that shaped me into a beautiful vase. The training I received along with colleagues from over a hundred nationalities gave me exposure and helped me grow. This is not just my story but the story of many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">migrants who have returned to Nepal</a>, to use the skills we gained abroad. With my savings I could build a brick house, afford better food and clothes, and invest in cars. &nbsp;These are tangible benefits. But as you earn more, your needs grow. Had I known better, I would have invested more wisely. But the skills I learnt enabled me to run Sankalpa, a facilities management business in Nepal that specialises in cleaning jobs, and provides employment to 85 workers. I had dreamt of starting something like this, but there were always reasons to postpone taking the leap.&nbsp; I was abroad for financial reasons, and there were personal challenges such as deaths in the family. But I finally decided to come back to Nepal 12 years ago and start this business.&nbsp; Initially, I had regrets about my decision to return. I had left behind a cushy Senior job with a handsome salary of AED7,500 ($2,000). After 16 years abroad, it was difficult adjusting to Nepal because working here requires you to knock at many doors, and you need connections. This can lead to much frustration, but even then I persevered. Now, I am happy with where I am at. Cleaning is not just magic, as it is often perceived; it is a science. Different chemicals and methods are required to clean various surfaces. We are raising awareness and creating demand for professional cleaning services across Nepal.&nbsp; It is important to invest in proper cleaning, not just for the longevity and cleanliness of marble, sofas, or carpets, but also for hygiene and health reasons. In my first year and a half, I did 24,000km on my bike in Kathmandu on marketing trips, knocking on door after door. It has not been easy but has its rewards, especially as I am able to provide jobs to over 80 workers.&nbsp; It is not like there are no opportunities in Nepal. There are. But it requires lots of discipline and patience, and you need to renew your energy every day. You have to have the faith that even if things don’t work out today, they will tomorrow. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/proud-to-give-back-to-nepal">Proud to give back to Nepal</a>, Prakash Katuwal&nbsp; When I was in Doha Sheraton, there was a Bangladeshi staff who at 60 years old was working at the company canteen to sustain his family back home. I remember my friend looking at him and commenting: “Our future.”&nbsp; In my mind, this stayed as a warning because I wanted to come home to my wife and children and did not want that future for myself. I had always planned to return home, the sooner the better. Sankalpa had been brewing in my head for a long time. I had to make it work here at all costs. Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Now, what?

This is the 55th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. Trying to escape being recruited by the Maoists, and running out of options in Nepal, I dropped out of school and paid Rs300,000 to a recruiter to take me to the UAE on a tourist visa.&nbsp; I was stranded there for two months, and just as my visa was about to expire, I landed a job in the warehouse of an American base in Afghanistan. Within three months, I got promoted to a Senior Supervisor which irked some of my colleagues who had been working there for seven years. I was already also feeling discriminated against by my Nepali colleagues, except one colleague from Taplejung who had a good heart. One day, a bomb exploded in a container with food items, killing nine people. I had enough and returned to Nepal. When you are so close to death, you reassess your life choices. In my 17 months in Afghanistan, I had earned close to Rs3 million which helped me buy land and build a house. In Kathmandu, I came across an ad in Kantipur for Korean language classes, and without even returning to Janakpur I enrolled. The EPS language test was just 58 days away, and there were people who had been preparing for the Korean language test for up to three years. The odds were stacked against me. I studied for the exam as though my life depended on it. I aced the mock exams. I ranked first out of 600 students, and this reminded me of my childhood when I was a class topper. It was the financial situation that had made me discontinue my studies. I managed to pass the exam, the only person out of the 36 living in our rented building. I went to Korea and worked in manufacturing. Three months into my stint, my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I came home for a month to take care of him.&nbsp; Even if I did not have liquid cash, I knew I had a job waiting for me in Korea and could have borrowed money to take my father to India. My only priority was to keep my father alive. But the doctor said his case was terminal.&nbsp; He was discharged from hospital, and we brought him home. As I left for Korea, he could not speak properly but acknowledged that I was leaving and gestured his blessings. He died a week later. I was at work, and went to my room to grieve. I declined my employer’s offer to buy me a ticket home as I had already lost my father. I mourned for him for a week in my room. In the five years there, I repaid the loans I had taken for my father’s medical bills and even had some savings. I could have renewed my contract in Korea for another five years, but I decided against it.&nbsp; Of course, it was exhilarating to be paid Rs200,000 a month in my bank account, but I had worked for others all my life, and now that I had made some money, I wanted to do something on my own in Nepal. The technical skills I had accumulated working in a car company were not very applicable here. But I also learnt many other things in Korea like work ethic, respect for peers, and discipline. I bought a used machine that makes notebooks and set up Rudraksha, a notebook factory.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  I hired a former worker from the same factory I had bought the machine from and he taught me how to operate it and about the stationery business. Seven years later, he is still working with me.&nbsp; It is in Korea that I learnt how bosses and staff work side-by-side and there is no task that is too big or small. I know that when I work with my staff, it makes them more proactive. I used to deliver the notebooks on my bike to shops all over my district and beyond. Later I diversified and took on dealership of brands like Natraj, Cello and Doms. This spread out my income sources naturally because it was related to my notebook factory . Things were going well until the pandemic hit and I suffered a huge loss. The notebooks in stock were all damaged. I was idle, so I became a dealer for Bikaji and expanded to other brands like Horlicks, Nestle, Dabur Nepal and Tokla tea. As things recovered, my brothers and I dabbled in a shoe factory. Other than instinctively knowing that there was a high demand for affordable shoes in our area, we did not have any prior knowledge or experience in this sector. It was a gamble and the upfront investments were high, but fortunately it has worked out well.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  Our company, TNT, has good designs and finishing at affordable prices and it has attracted customers across Nepal. While there are challenges like fierce competition and high bank interest rates, we are doing quite well for ourselves.&nbsp; Across my portfolio, I am providing jobs to 122 workers. I first started with a Rs150 business as a kid selling plastic bags in a vegetable market for Rs1.25 each. I have come a long way since then. My work has given me recognition in my area, even though I tend to be quite introverted. My community members who have watched me since I was little tell me that I am a legend in the tea shops as someone who rose from nothing to be a successful entrepreneur.&nbsp; With my father’s salary as a teacher, we did not even have money to buy school uniforms. I value hard work and that is what I tell young people. When I am on someone’s payroll, I take ownership of the work. I do not let time dictate my work schedule.&nbsp; If I can stay an extra ten minutes to solve something, I do not leave it for tomorrow. Little things like this matter. For those of us without a strong family back-up, foreign employment can be beneficial. But I have also met a few people who were overseas who are still there.&nbsp; Their children are now also overseas. Those stories are a bit disheartening. I am not sure why things are that way. Perhaps people overspend and do not prioritise savings? I was one of the first workers in Korea from our Maithili community and I did not have many friends from the Tarai there. Towards the end of my stay there, I met a few here and there. Many from our villages opt for overseas employment opportunities where agents just hand over their visas at a price. I remind young people to be patient and take up language classes so they can benefit from higher paying jobs.&nbsp; Working hard has not stopped even now. I want to leave a legacy. Let’s see what the future holds. My next goal is to start a pen factory. &nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal

For most Nepalis, the arrival of the emir of Qatar to Kathmandu in four jets on Tuesday was marked by just one matter of importance: the government declared it a holiday. The decision was greeted by howls of ridicule in the Nepali cybersphere with posts poking fun at a former monarchy pulling all stops to give a lavish welcome to a foreign monarch. To be sure, Qatar is economically important because there are an estimated 400,000 Nepalis working in the Gulf emirate and an important source of remittance to families back home.&nbsp; However, working conditions for Nepalis in the Gulf in general and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls">Qatar in particular</a> are said to be poor with few safeguards on labour rights. Migrant worker welfare was said to be high on the agenda in meetings between Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani and Nepal’s Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal. Dahal is also said to have brought up the issue of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/hamas-releases-thais-but-where-is-bipin">Nepali student Bipin Joshi</a> believed to have been among those abducted by Hamas in its 7 October attack on southern Israel in which 10 other Nepalis were killed. It is not clear how effective this will be since Qatar’s mediation in the Israel-Hamas conflict has been deadlocked as Israel disregards international pressure to stop killing Palestinian civilians. Sheikh Hamad al-Thani arrived in Kathmandu from a visit to <a href="https://www.dhakatribune.com/bangladesh/foreign-affairs/342874/ministry-qatar-emir%E2%80%99s-visit-to-strengthen" target="_blank">Bangladesh</a>, another country with a sizeable migrant worker population in Qatar.&nbsp; In a statement prior to the Qatar emir’s visit to the two countries, the New York-based group Human Rights Watch (HRW) urged Qatar to take labour rights and welfare more seriously. ‘It is important for Qatar, Bangladesh, and Nepal to go beyond exchanging diplomatic pleasantries over their longstanding labour ties and seize this moment to publicly commit to concrete, enforceable protections that address the serious abuses that migrant workers in Qatar continue to face,’ said <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/michael-page" target="_blank">Michael Page</a> of HRW.&nbsp; He added: ‘The Qatari emir should not just meet heads of state, but also visit dialysis centres filled with migrant worker returnees from Qatar and speak with the families of workers who died in Qatar to see the grave consequences of inadequate Qatari labour protections.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024042322044_22180746f870255db298aec402e8ec0da6bdbaeacf50649a98ffb0c4b7472aef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024042322044_22180746f870255db298aec402e8ec0da6bdbaeacf50649a98ffb0c4b7472aef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Qatari leader in Nepal reminded of workers’ rights NT"> <figcaption>Emir of Qatar Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al-Thani arrived in Kathmandu on Tuesday on a two-day state visit. Photo RSS</figcaption> </figure>  Migrant workers from Bangladesh, Nepal and other labour-exporting countries play a vital role in Qatar’s economy and were instrumental in the construction of the 2022 World Cup.&nbsp; ‘The Qatar-to-Nepal and Bangladesh routes that the Qatari leader is taking are well-trodden, with thousands of workers making this journey daily,’ the HRW statement said. Although Nepali workers send back remittances from Qatar, many end up deeper in debt to pay back unscrupulous recruiters and employers who cheat them of promised salaries. Heat stress from global warming has also made working conditions impossible, and many Nepali workers <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/too-hot-to-work">return with kidney failures</a>. HRW says some workers also have been deported for <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/10/12/qatar/fifa-address-demands-migrant-worker-strikes" target="_blank">demanding</a> wages and benefits promised by contractors, and there have been thousands of <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/10/10/qatar-urgently-investigate-migrant-worker-deaths" target="_blank">unexplained deaths</a> of young, healthy migrant workers in Qatar. Nepal ends up paying compensation to the families of many migrant workers who have lost their lives, not Qatar. HRW says it has documented cases of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/world-cup-ending-without-migrant-relief">Nepali families who received no support </a>from Qatari authorities or employers after losing the worker supporting them.&nbsp; Only some Qatari companies complied with a directive making contractors provide life insurance for migrant workers, even during the construction spree for the 2022 World Cup.&nbsp; The climate crisis is increasing outmigration from Nepal at a time when it is also making Qatar too hot to work in.&nbsp; HRW said the Qatari authorities have <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/09/24/qatar-significant-labor-and-kafala-reforms" target="_blank">introduced</a> labour reforms, but they came too late and were too little and too narrow in scope. “The labour agreement to be signed during the emir’s visit should incorporate concrete provisions to <a href="https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/related_material/Protecting%20Asian%20Migrants%27%20Rights.pdf" target="_blank">address</a> these issues,' the HRW statement read, adding that the best way for the emir to mark his trip would be to guarantee migrant worker welfare. Meanwhile, an <a href="https://thediplomat.com/2022/11/nepalis-feel-the-human-toll-of-qatars-world-cup/">investigative story by Nepali journalists Samik Kharel and Roshan Sedhai</a> on widows of Nepali workers who died during the construction of facilities for the 2022 World Cup was runner-up for best story in the civil rights category of the Fetisov Awards given in Istanbul on Tuesday.

Qatari leader in Nepal reminded of workers’ rights

This is the 48th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Growing up in Lamjung, I had a very humble childhood. I helped my mother with household chores, and in the fields. My father wanted me to follow his path and join the Indian Army, but after two months at the Gorkha Training Centre in Shillong with its huge billboard that said ‘Do or Die’, I was put off and returned to Nepal.&nbsp; I was in awe walking around the streets of &nbsp;Kathmandu. I used to go to Bishal Bazaar just to practice taking the lift. My curiosity about how things worked, and surfing the net helped keep me updated. I tried to run a café while attending college. But Nepalis had not yet developed a taste for brewed coffee, so my café failed. I also could not continue my studies, so like everyone else going abroad, I left for the UAE in 2004 to work. My brother, who worked as a driver in the UAE, got me a job as a rope access worker in charge of cleaning windows on tall buildings. We first practiced in a two storied building in Dubai, and would be drenched in sweat. I got my license but on a job to clean the façade of a skyscraper, my knees shook as I dangled 48-floors above the ground.&nbsp; What I had learnt on the ground did not amount to much hanging on a rope up there on a high rise. It got better with practice, and it helped that my supervisors were Nepalis who got me acclimatised to the height, so I felt safe.&nbsp; I spent over a decade in the UAE but do not remember much from that period. Work-pay-work-pay, it was a cycle. The kindness of strangers has stayed with me. Some residents on the high floors would offer us fruits as we dangled outside their windows. Small gestures, but they are etched in my memory. I have helped set up the fireworks display on Burj Khalifa and cleaned seven-star hotels, but when my company set up a new oil and gas division in 2005, I asked for an internal transfer in the inspection and engineering department. We got trained in non-destructive testing (NDT), which I enjoyed a lot and excelled in. I took courses in visual, ultrasound and magnetic particle inspections, and found a sense of deep fulfilment in learning new things. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/sky-is-the-limit-for-nepali-chef-in-bahrain">Sky is the limit for Nepali chef in Bahrain</a>, Sanjay Lama Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_fc8c6c1b2d8dab2c07f75c56d819ae566fbdcee047cf568a52adb95c2ede032f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023120902120_fc8c6c1b2d8dab2c07f75c56d819ae566fbdcee047cf568a52adb95c2ede032f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1211" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  Work offshore used to be round the clock. I missed the sense of freedom one feels on firm ground, even though all amenities were provided on board. I still remember how the most rewarding feeling was seeing my name on the list in the control room near the helipad with home leave dates when the chopper would come to airlift us out every month.&nbsp; It was the best feeling in the world, but for the first few days we would still feel like the floor was moving. We had got so used to being at sea.&nbsp; The paid monthly leave was unique among migrant workers. I made sure not to waste time, and used to go to India to take more courses to upgrade my skills. I could not continue my formal education because of my personal circumstances, but I had no excuse not to invest in learning new things.&nbsp; I had the desire to achieve something, and the training was part of advancing my career. Taking formal classes honed my theoretical understanding of the work right from the fundamentals.&nbsp; Given the absence of Nepalis in the management in the oil and gas sector, there was a preference for other nationalities in promotions. Despite meeting roadblocks every step of the way, I did overcome them and moved up the ranks.&nbsp; I had a starting salary of AED900, but by the time I left the UAE a decade later, I was earning AED20,000 ($5,500) a month. After ten years in the UAE including one year in Qatar with the same company, it was time for a change.&nbsp; I tried resigning three times, but was offered better benefits so decided to stay on. But after the third time, I had made my mind. My resignation letter said, ‘I am leaving for my personal betterment.’ It was not for financial reasons, I just knew it was time for a change. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-on-my-mind">Nepal on my mind</a>, Ishwar Chaulagain  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_b259140354429fdda3d4aaf327da94a87300a435d89a29762cbef9ec3dc7e0c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023120902120_b259140354429fdda3d4aaf327da94a87300a435d89a29762cbef9ec3dc7e0c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1141" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  I applied for a job in Nigeria in 2012, and was thrilled to be offered $450 per day for a five month contract. My boss then offered me a longer term contract, and I stuck around in Nigeria for three more years. During my last year, I even helped the company start a training wing and worked as a trainer.&nbsp; The oil crisis of 2015 slowed things down. Oil prices fell from $125 to $25 per barrel, and although my employer asked me to stay on with salary, I left. Nepal was calling.&nbsp; I started my own Industrial Rope Access Trade Association (IRATA) certified training company, Asset Integrity Group, in Kathmandu in 2016. We provide training in rope access, spray painting, welding, rigging and non-destructive testing.&nbsp; I had no guidance in my career choices, I just followed my instincts. I try to be a good mentor to Nepalis interested in this field even though what I earn here does not compare to what I was used to overseas.&nbsp; But there is a different kind of joy in the training and even the respect I get from my students. Nepalis in the rope access sector renew their licenses or upgrade to the next level at my centre, and many are working in the Gulf. A handful of Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and Indians have also come to Kathmandu, where I have trained and licensed them as we are an internationally accredited centre and cost less than elsewhere. Our offer to them is that they not only get cheaper training, they also will get to visit our beautiful country.&nbsp; Luckily, I know enough people in the industry worldwide who hire me for short-term gigs like protective coating services in the oil and gas sector. I have worked in Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia where I spend a few months every year. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/money-is-not-everything-but-you-need-money-for-everything">"Money is not everything, but you need money for everything"</a>, Rohit Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023120902120_761d1f46b408f2d199a5d0375df8702a5987a948b61df03eacbe2d9a8b18a219.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023120902120_761d1f46b408f2d199a5d0375df8702a5987a948b61df03eacbe2d9a8b18a219" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD #48 NT"> </figure>  My travels allow me to offer similar opportunities to fellow Nepalis. Three Nepalis, for example, joined me in Nigeria. My international colleagues are often surprised to hear that I am from a landlocked country with no oil industry. I myself wonder sometimes how I got here. I tell them: “I learned and earned.” &nbsp; Nepalis in my field know me as Rudra Dai their mentor, who follows their progress even after training. My foreign friends call me Ruddy. Ruddy’s occasional gigs makes Rudra Dai’s work sustainable. In a way, I have the best of both worlds.&nbsp; It is not easy, of course. We have to meet strict IRATA standards to pass audits. At our training center, we simulate different scenarios such as in civil and marine rope access work. We also provide on-the-job training so students can practice what they learn. There are more complex courses like industrial painting. Additional training for painting or welding inspection combined with rope access training could contribute to boosting earnings.&nbsp; Many Nepalis still go overseas to earn just $300 USD monthly. I wish they understood that there are also opportunities that offer much higher salaries if they got training. It cannot be any training; it has to be recognised and valued overseas as well. In rope access, where safety is paramount and licensing requirements are mandatory, just a short training can open up higher salaries, new sectors and upward mobility, as the demand for workers in this field is growing.&nbsp; This model would work best if employers themselves were also involved. But Nepali employers do not prioritise occupational health and safety, and training. They just want cheap labour. Overseas companies also hesitate to invest in training workers especially as they have trouble retaining them, and there are competitors who offer small salary mark-ups.&nbsp; I have come a long way from dangling with shaky knees on a rope off a high rise in Dubai. When I meet young migrant workers on leave in Nepal, I see myself 15 years ago. I used to go to India to get myself trained, now I am glad to say I can offer such training in Nepal itself. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya">From retail to selling chiya</a>, Gautam Guvaju Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Migrant worker teaches others the ropes

Muna Acharya was married off by her family when she was barely 14 to a man who physically and emotionally abused her for years.&nbsp; He beat her, threw her out of the house in the middle of the night, and constantly hurled insults. Muna’s own family was no help. After 19 long years of this, she had enough and left her husband. &nbsp; “It hurts me to think about all those years of trauma, I don’t know how I could bear it for so long,” says Muna who became a migrant worker in Malaysia in 2010.&nbsp; It was an escape from abuse, but also a chance to earn enough to support her two children who were 16 and 12 at the time in Jhapa.&nbsp; “Far away from Nepal, I could breathe easy for the first time in my life,” recalls Acharya who was encouraged to seek foreign employment by her relative Gita Katuwal, who had also gone to Malaysia a year before to escape harrowing circumstances at home. Like Muna, Gita was abused so severely by her husband that she would often have to ask her family and neighbours to cover up the dark bruises on her skin.&nbsp; “It was not as easy to get a divorce back then as it is now. Usually the village elders and police would mediate and force reconciliation with the husband,” Gita recalls. “They would behave themselves for a few days and the beatings would start again.” &nbsp; Being homemakers meant that both Muna and Gita did not have the time and opportunity to get jobs that would give them financial independence. Moreover, their own families, neighbours would refuse to get involved. &nbsp; When it became clear that they would not get help from anyone at home, both women saw no other way out than to opt for self-imposed exile from Nepal. &nbsp; Gita ultimately ended up spending 13 years in Malaysia, and says it turned her life around, giving her confidence and independence as well as allowed her to give her children a secure life.&nbsp; “I could not make my children happy when I stayed with them, but I was able to give them the things they deserved while being far from them,” she says. “Going abroad gave me my life back.” There are many Nepali women like Muna and Gita who survived domestic violence and spousal abuse and neglect, and unable to bear it any longer, have abandoned not just their abusive households but also their own country. Foreign employment has empowered the women, giving them financial independence and self-respect. Back from Malaysia, Muna Acharya has invested her savings in a convenience store. “Foreign employment has given me everything. I no longer have to worry about where my next meal is going to come from, and I don't have to live in constant fear of physical abuse,” she says. Buddha Maya Limbu’s abusive husband left her 15 years ago when she was three months pregnant. As the reality of raising a child on her own sank in, Buddha Maya promised herself she would not let her child’s life be touched by the pain and hardship that she herself had experienced. &nbsp; Over the next couple of years, Buddha Maya worked first at a clothing facility that eventually went under, and then raised chicken until they all died in a bird flu epidemic. &nbsp; Realising that her only hope was to find work abroad, Buddha Maya left her home in Jhapa for Kuwait in 2009, leaving her two-year-old son in the care of her parents. She returned to Nepal three years later, immediately began to pay off the interest on loans and invested the rest on a property. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231126101124_a950e3698a720c6e6562aebae2546f41f4e878cf605f34cc138dbf6ae05dab6c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20231126101124_a950e3698a720c6e6562aebae2546f41f4e878cf605f34cc138dbf6ae05dab6c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Female migrants NT"> <figcaption>(Clockwise) Muna Acharya, Gita Katuwal, Kumari Chemjong, and Buddha Maya Limbu. Photos: SUJATA DHUNGANA</figcaption> </figure>  She left Nepal once again in 2014, this time for Malaysia. By the time she returned in 2021, she had wired enough money back home to send her son to school, and to build a house. “Now I don’t have to worry about renting rooms again,” iy Maya says, “I built this house with my own money. It has a strong foundation, and so does my son because of the education I could give him.” Her mother Ranmaya is overjoyed at her daughter’s success and that Buddha Maya has bigger dreams to get her son recruited into the British Army.&nbsp; “My daughter means everything to me,” says Ranmaya. “But how can I stop her from leaving again when I have seen the life she has built by going abroad?” Kumari Chemjong had dreamt of becoming a dance instructor ever since she was a schoolgirl, never missing a dance event in the village. “My grandmother always told me that dancing was not a job,” she says. “It took me many years to understand what she meant.” Kumari got married, and it was not easy. She left behind her toddler son and escaped to Kuwait in 2017 via backchannel routes through India because female migrant workers were banned from going abroad at the time because of reports of abuse by employers overseas. “I knew I should not have gone illegally,” Kumari admits, “but there were countless reasons for me to escape from troubles at home.”&nbsp; For two years in Kuwait she cleaned houses, and this made her realise the value of work, taught her the importance of being with family and loved ones, and made her realise her attachment to Nepal. &nbsp; “I understand why Nepali migrant workers feel the need to kiss the ground when they get off the plane at Kathmandu airport,” she says. Now back home in Jhapa, Kumari has finally fulfilled her childhood dream and teaches dance at two private schools in Haldibari. She also makes and sells beaded necklaces, and has written and recorded two gazals. She is also the vice president of the Jhapa chapter of the Center for the Protection of Migrant Workers’ Rights, and says that women tend to save more and send more money home than men. Safe working conditions and financial literacy are crucial for women seeking foreign employment, she adds. “Foreign employment has helped women who experience domestic violence, abuse, ostracisation, and economic deprivation to turn their own and their children’s lives for the better,” says activist Renu Adhikari. “The remittance they send is also contributing to Nepal’s economy.” But even if women overcome the stigma of abandoning their families to go abroad, many women who end up working as household help face abuse and unsafe working conditions from employers overseas as well. Domestic abuse is often replaced by overseas abuse. &nbsp; Gita Katuwal was forced to leave her home and country to escape her abusive husband and in-laws, but says overseas migration is an opportunity for Nepali women. “People who didn’t believe I would make it in life now ask to borrow money from me,” she says. “I am now able to speak my mind confidently in my community without fear or doubt that my opinions matter.”&nbsp;

Nepali women flee abuse for overseas work

Between mid-June and mid-October alone, almost 37,500 Nepalis left for the UAE for jobs, placing it among the top destination countries. Many of these workers will likely be engaged in the delivery of the COP28 Climate Summit that will ironically be held in the UAE, the world’s fifth <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-greenwashing-in-glasgow">biggest</a> exporter of refined petroleum, with the head of the Abu Dhabi National Oil Company (ADNOC) service as conference president. Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal will lead the Nepali delegation.Migrant workers form <a href="https://worldmigrationreport.iom.int/wmr-2022-interactive/">88% of the UAE population</a>, so one cannot talk about COP28 or the UAE by ignoring migration. For Nepal, too, the climate crisis and the migration economy are linked.<a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/11/21/uae-migrant-worker-abuses-linked-broader-climate-harms">New research</a> by Human Rights Watch (HRW) states that the COP28 host’s role in climate injustice goes beyond it being one of the largest fossil fuel producers and among the highest per capita emitters. It also relates to its treatment of migrant workers. HRW interviewed 151 current and former migrant workers and their families from Bangladesh, Pakistan and Nepal. Despite negligible per capita greenhouse gas emissions, the three countries are among the most climate vulnerable and have suffered extreme weather and slow-onset events linked to climate change.&nbsp; The climate impact countries like Nepal face should also be considered from the perspective of their mobile populations in the UAE and other countries. Migrant workers are exposed to extreme heat with inadequate protection, and because widespread abuse like wage theft and exorbitant recruitment fees limit the ability of workers to send home remittances, including during climate-linked emergencies. Dubai’s maximum temperature on some days <a href="https://www.khaleejtimes.com/uae/weather/uae-temperatures-cross-50oc-for-first-time-this-summer">exceeded</a> 50 Celsius this summer, and the UAE itself is vulnerable to heat stress due to atmospheric warming.The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has said that the Gulf <a href="https://www.ipcc.ch/report/ar6/wg2/downloads/report/IPCC_AR6_WGII_Chapter10.pdf">states’</a> wet bulb globe temperature (WBGT) is ‘expected to approach, and possibly exceed, the physiological threshold for human adaptability (35°C) by the end of the century’. Migrant workers, including Nepalis, are disproportionately exposed.The most common heat mitigation strategy used in the Gulf including the UAE are ‘summer midday bans’ that stop outdoor work in the afternoons for a few hours. But a <a href="https://oem.bmj.com/content/80/6/347">study</a> in <a href="https://oem.bmj.com/content/80/6/347">Kuwait</a> found that despite the ban there was a substantial increase in the risk of occupational injuries associated with extremely hot temperatures. Another <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/333293731_Assessment_of_Heat_Stress_Exposure_among_Construction_Workers_in_the_Hot_Desert_Climate_of_Saudi_Arabia">study </a>found that the highest heat intensity for workers in Saudi Arabia was from 9 am to noon, while the ban is in effect between noon and 3 pm. HRW’s research recommends that the UAE move away from arbitrary, calendar-based midday bans towards risk-based measures such as the WBGT.&nbsp; Heat is a health hazard. It can exacerbate pre-existing conditions, impair cognitive function, and increase the risk of workplace injuries and long-term illnesses like end-stage renal failures. Dialysis rooms across Nepal that are filled with Gulf returnees. &nbsp; HRW’s <a href="https://www.hrw.org/video-photos/interactive/2023/11/21/migrant-workers-bear-the-brunt-of-uae-extreme-heat">research</a> follows three dialysis patients who are all UAE returnees describing how they did not get support from the UAE. The Nepal government provides dialysis for free, but the cost of medicines, injections, and transportation add up. Chitrakala, the wife of a dialysis patient, Til, who accompanies him to the hospital multiple times a week for his dialysis says, “In some ways, I find it comforting to be at the hospital because in the waiting room, I realise I am not alone. It is not just my family that is facing this.”&nbsp; Another UAE returnee, Purna, says it is after he frequented the dialysis centre that he realised that kidney failure is common among migrant worker returnees. The situation will worsen in a changing climate. “The UAE is externalising their own climate risks onto migrant workers who are labouring under woefully inadequate protections. These workers often experience chronic health harms linked to extreme heat, and then return home without any compensation from the UAE and instead let countries like Nepal bear all the serious health costs like dialysis treatment,” says Michael Page of HRW.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231124031152_7daf43db2cba93c6e81c6607aa61d07d3f3fbd4e2b338aadd2aaa4720828cb76.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20231124031152_7daf43db2cba93c6e81c6607aa61d07d3f3fbd4e2b338aadd2aaa4720828cb76" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="COP28 and migtants NT"> </figure>  There are other labour abuses like wage theft and exorbitant recruitment fees that also contribute to climate injustice, the HRW report argues. Climate emergencies back home exacerbate the mental stress of wage theft and recruitment debt as families in Nepal are in increasingly dire and even life-threatening situations.&nbsp; Workers HRW spoke to who were unable to send remittances because of labour abuses spoke of the dilemma they face: their families lose both critical financial support and the help they could have provided for urgent tasks like rebuilding damaged property had they stayed home. But for many, even exiting the UAE with outstanding recruitment debts or unpaid wages during such climate emergencies posed a challenge. Workers had to pay fees to retrieve their passports including by obtaining ‘reverse remittances’ on loan from families back home already reeling from life-threatening climate emergencies. Good migration can be transformative, but bad migration can be devastating for families. To be sure, remittances have been critical for economies of Nepal and other South Asian countries, but they do not substitute their responsibility. Historical and major greenhouse gas emitters also have a duty to support communities heavily impacted by the climate crisis. <a href="https://www.knomad.org/sites/default/files/publication-doc/migration_development_brief_38_june_2023_0.pdf">Remittances</a> are equivalent to a quarter of Nepal’s GDP, while Pakistan and Bangladesh are among the top 10 remittance recipients globally. Remittances have also been a lifeline including post-earthquake and during Covid. But these numbers mask the individual experiences of migrant workers and their families who face abuses and many of whom end up in financially worse situations than they did pre-migration. Virtually all migrant workers pay hefty fees for jobs which itself creates a huge dent on the returns to migration while excluding some of the poorest communities from even attempting to migrate. But even that does not guarantee a good job. The July 2021 <a href="https://www.icimod.org/article/the-melamchi-flood-disaster/">Melamchi flood</a> was a climate-induced disaster in Nepal, and one of its victims told HRW researchers: “During the flood, all we wanted was to save our lives. We survived, but we lost everything. The flood finished us.”His wife is headed to the UAE for a waitressing job which cost her Rs &nbsp;200,000, and borrowed at 24% annual interest. If all goes well, her first year’s salary of a mere $262 a month will just go to repay the loan. Another Sindhupalchok returnee from the UAE said, “Whether climate change or not, we have to migrate. We used to be self-sufficient but now have to buy food. Yields are lower. Insects and diseases are more common.” Climate change can be a compounding factor for longstanding emigration such as from Nepal to the Gulf, and adds to the burden of past, present and future migrant workers. The UAE is also being criticized for its restrictions on civil society and free expression during COP28. The HRW research states these affect migrant workers by limiting their ability to raise workplace concerns and seek structural, worker-centered reforms. The government’s opacity around <a href="https://pomeps.org/climate-the-environment-and-health-of-migrant-workers-lessons-from-kuwait">health data</a> hampers research for <a href="https://vitalsignsproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Vital_signs_3_online.pdf">evidence-based</a> policymaking including for better outdoor protections, while academics and journalists tend to <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2021/10/01/uae-tolerance-narrative-sham-0">self-censor</a> to avoid reprisals. At the COP 28 in Dubai, Prime Minister Dahal would do well to dwell on the links between the host country and increasing climate vulnerability that Nepalis face both at home from weather extremes and heat stress at their workplaces in the UAE.

Too hot to work

This is the 35th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. A local acquaintance in Baglung went around a village fair promising youngsters like me his son in India would send us to "Arab". This was the 1980s and back then for us there was no Qatar or Saudi or UAE, only Arab. And that was where the jobs and money was. You could earn 7kg of gold per year in Arab, we were told. We believed the man and 93 of us from Baglung headed to Mumbai, where he said we would be in transit. We were stranded there for 17 months. It is funny how the agent’s false assurances – “next week, confirm”, “next month, pakka” — would stretch to more than a year with no job in sight. We waited impatiently in Mumbai. But it did help that we could work and get around India. I worked as a security guard in an apartment complex, dreaming of the promised land. The families in the apartment would ask me to take their children to school, sometimes I would carry 8-10 of their school bags on my back, but I did not mind because that was extra income. One day, as I was walking with a friend to my company's management office to pick up my salary, I saw a sign with the picture of a plane on it. I asked the Indian agent there whether he had work visas for Nepalis. He said yes, and after paying Rs20,000 I was en route to Saudi Arabia to work in a bakery. I was not given advance notice about my flight, but I did not have much to pack anyway. Just three pairs of clothes, slippers and a towel that I quickly stuffed inside my bag. We got to the airport nervous and excited. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung In the rush to the airport, I did not have a chance to exchange money. But I did stitch in 500 Indian Rupees into the hem of my trousers. My hunger grew unbearable in my 13-hour wait at the airport in Riyadh for the next domestic flight so I decided to spend it even though it was all the money I had. I explained to the Sudanese at the counter in my broken English that I had no Saudi money, just Indian rupees. He laughed as he saw me struggle to remove the stitches on my trousers to take out my money. In exchange he gave me 8 Saudi Riyal. I bought biryani and Coke at an inflated price. The Pakistani waiter serving me was amused when I asked him for chillis as I downed my meal. Food has never tasted so good. After taking another domestic flight, I was finally at my destination. Day and night, without time off, I used to work at the bakery for 500 riyal ($130) a month. Between my boss saying "Tal, tal" (Come, come) to assign me work and my "Money problem, Money problem,", he gave me several raises. By the time I went on my first holiday, I was earning 1,200 riyal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120632_b047a814987b451df7ad6180dc01bae85f0eafa340ff5db8710df8b18e1b228b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230625120632_b047a814987b451df7ad6180dc01bae85f0eafa340ff5db8710df8b18e1b228b" data-rendition-name="original" width="965" height="1428" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 2"></figure>  I worked at the bakery for about six years, and then at a grocery store for a fraction of my bakery earnings. It was my naseeb (fate) that I fell into a trap, but had to stick around for 3 years. I had to ask my friends for money to send home. Finally, I transferred to a laundry shop where I earned 800 riyal per month. This is where my struggle and hard work started to pay off because I won the trust of my kafeel, and worked my way up to the manager’s post with six workers under me. I soon co-owned the business with him. I paid him a fixed monthly fee, higher than what previous expat partners had offered, and the rest of the earnings minus the operations costs was for me to keep. For 15 years, I managed to save up to Rs200,000 per month.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120632_7723c73101615a374590214a624b8e928c9df1d1e38453c4605f109dad761825.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230625120632_7723c73101615a374590214a624b8e928c9df1d1e38453c4605f109dad761825" data-rendition-name="original" width="1694" height="1056" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 3"></figure>  In 2017, I decided to return to Nepal despite the good pay and my boss’ insistence that I stay. I had worked enough and was tired, I just wanted to be home with my family. I was leaving behind a different Saudi Arabia. All I remember is vast expanses of sand when I first arrived there. When I left, the roads were wide and buildings had sprung up. I wonder how the three decades went by. Earnings in Nepal are enough, if at all, just to make ends meet. Anything more, and I would have to pack my bags to go overseas again or find reasons to stay abroad. And I wanted more. I had bought a plot of land in Baglung in 1989 after spending a few years in Saudi Arabia. To build a house in that empty piece of land, I had to go overseas. I relocated my sons to Kathmandu because there was no future in the village, especially during the Maoist conflict. I now wanted to sell my Baglung land to buy land and a house in Kathmandu. That meant I had to migrate overseas again.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120636_496ee89e3e7405d5267dc6dad4e6c6550827543ad593c8c0057eb6b86980b74c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230625120636_496ee89e3e7405d5267dc6dad4e6c6550827543ad593c8c0057eb6b86980b74c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 5"></figure>  The sacrifices I made during my foreign employment, communicating over letters with my newly married wife that took 28 days to reach, working around the clock without keeping track of time, or missing key milestones as my sons grew up, all paid off for me in different ways. Despite being from rural Nepal, I managed to build a house in Kathmandu and got extra income from the rent. My sons have both completed their bachelors in IT and have well-paying jobs. They will soon be going abroad for their Master's. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-son-s-dream">A father's sacrifice for his son's dream</a> These are the goals I accomplished by being away. For nearly three years after returning I did nothing. But slowly, the urge to work returned and I started exploring multiple options in Kathmandu, from starting a party palace to a momo store to a poultry farm. Given my experience in Saudi Arabia, I also considered starting a bakery or a laundry, but these were high cost investments. I could neither afford the kind of machines I had used overseas nor expect the same levels of returns in Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120636_decb61422a13681d5a9d6dd2bd4673d8ac1ff573697301279ef9192dff71d79c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230625120636_decb61422a13681d5a9d6dd2bd4673d8ac1ff573697301279ef9192dff71d79c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 4"></figure>  Eventually, I found a spot in a vegetable market in Dhumbarahi. My brother and I invested just Rs130,000 initially, and four years later we sell about a ton of vegetables daily at wholesale prices. Our days start at 2AM as we collect produce from suppliers from Chitwan, Kavre, Makwanpur and Dhading. We sell the produce until 10AM and resume again at 2PM. From 6-6:30 pm onwards, I start selling off what is left at a cheaper price, sometimes at a loss. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan By this time of the day, I am so desperate to get rid of the entire stock of vegetables that I start hawking to draw customers. It helps to stand out in a crowd of sellers who are all facing the same time pressure to do away with remaining perishables. I first had a difficult time understanding the market. Where do we get produce at good rates, who do we sell them to and at what price? At what stage is it better to give away unsold produce at lower prices, sometimes even taking a loss, before they go bad completely? These are things I learnt along the way.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120640_95ba664516743f05ae5b683c1451c5f8794f977b0336b7e2e78d7f28abfc6ce5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230625120640_95ba664516743f05ae5b683c1451c5f8794f977b0336b7e2e78d7f28abfc6ce5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 6"></figure>  The stakes are not as high in my current work as in other businesses. So far, when I have made losses and sold produce at low prices, I have managed to recuperate it within a few days. It is a relief that I do not have to worry about back-breaking loans or huge losses that trap many entrepreneurs. And I particularly like being referred to as a ‘sauji’, as I wouldn’t have enjoyed working under someone for a pittance. Business is good but I do get tired more easily these days. My age is slowly catching up on me. I began my struggle when I was 17, four decades ago. In a few years, I want to sell my business and take it easy to just rest and travel. I want to take my wife to Mumbai to show her where it all began. To my days as a young security guard in the city, dreaming of Arab and the promises it held.

From Saudi to Sauji

This is the 28th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I am the youngest of four brothers who have all helped to give my career a head start. One worked as a trekking guide and the other two as chefs in Nepal and the UAE. Trekking was not really for me, although it was a natural choice given that my father and brother were guides. Our house in Makwanpur was often filled with foreigners, an unlikely sight in the 1980s in that part of the country.&nbsp; I was a simple village boy juggling school and farming, and was shy of foreigners. I started joining my brother on treks as a kitchen boy, including three 22-day trips across Thorung La, which was difficult but exciting.&nbsp; I was promoted to guide for groups of 20 trekkers with 60 support staff. At the end of a trek we bonded like families, and there were even tears in the last evening before goodbyes around the campfire. I made friends with local people and looked forward to the adventures. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230414040436_9ea981aff3589b23f7d263e32387207e423a9d7c8399a01c0ba01d9ecf802f28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230414040436_9ea981aff3589b23f7d263e32387207e423a9d7c8399a01c0ba01d9ecf802f28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 28"> </figure>  Trekking was fun, but the income was seasonal. I also missed the stability of staying put in one place. Once in 1985, I had a chance meeting with a German tourist in Ghorepani who was blowing bubbles to entertain excited children. He ran a German bakery in Jawalakhel and before I knew it, I had a job there that earned me Rs500 a month. Waking up at 3AM I learnt how to make different types of bread – sourdough, multigrain, you name it – first in Jawalakhel and then in the Pokhara branch. Then I joined my brother who was an Executive Chef at Summit Hotel. In 1996 I joined my other brother who was a chef at Le Meridian in the UAE. My starting salary was much higher than in Nepal, but more importantly I gained a lot of knowledge and experience about food hygiene, customer service and standardisation of food quality.&nbsp; I worked among colleagues from over 120 countries, and learnt that hospitality was more than just serving food. I had it much easier than fellow Nepalis in the Gulf, but faced challenges. Even though I had English language skills, it was inadequate in the hospitality business.&nbsp; I ended up spending over 19 years in the UAE, working at the same bakery for ten years where I was trusted enough by my employer to make key decisions and hone my baking skills. My carrot cake was a hit. Every time I handed in a resignation letter, I got hefty salary increases. With political instability back home and a good employer, there was always a reason to postpone my homecoming. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230414040436_097878927f962b41f94b95d0aaada9edeb6a4ca0cc5bf8ac138776571f004502.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230414040436_097878927f962b41f94b95d0aaada9edeb6a4ca0cc5bf8ac138776571f004502" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 28"> </figure>  Many Nepalis I know have it really hard in the Gulf. Even then, I find it discomforting when politicians refer derogatorily to us as camel grazers under the desert sun (खाडीको घाममा उँट चराउने), when truth is that there are many Nepalis engaged in high-paying jobs as well.&nbsp; By the time I left the UAE in 2015, I was making 14,000 Dirhams a month ($3,800). If I had stayed on, I would probably be earning even more. I do not want to undermine the struggle of Nepalis in the Gulf, but there are many of us who have left handsome salaries to come home and contribute meaningfully to Nepal, including as job-creators ourselves.&nbsp; The Nepal government needs to prepare its youth to compete in the overseas market so they can take up better jobs which are available, and get good promotions. There is plenty of money floating around in the Gulf, perhaps more than anywhere else in the world. With the right skills, training and approach, there is a potential for Nepalis to flourish. I decided to return after the 2015 earthquake. I had seen the UAE transform itself as a country in a short period and I wanted the same for Nepal. Except, that was easier said than done. Soon after I opened my restaurant in Nepal, the Indian Blockade of 2015 wrecked my business. I had to pay Rs7,000 for a cylinder of gas, and spent weeks cooking for my customers in firewood. My restaurant did not do well, so I started The Lemon Tree bakery in Bhaisepati and Jhamsikhel. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230414040436_e4be3ffec8371b1a6d3156ef9a9f1f41e0e8c8979eae3e03509d475b5497b443.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230414040436_e4be3ffec8371b1a6d3156ef9a9f1f41e0e8c8979eae3e03509d475b5497b443" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 28"> </figure>  This was my area of expertise, and I felt more in control. I still work 15-16 hours a day and rely on my loyal customer base of both foreigners and Nepalis. I employ 14-15 workers, primarily female, who are getting well trained on the job. Both my employees and customers are like family, just like in my trekking days.&nbsp; It is not easy to work in Nepal. There are opportunities but it has to be an area in which you have experience, and requires patience. Our natural desire for overnight success and profits needs a reality check. The plan to have a bakery in Nepal was brewing in my mind for a long time, and I used to collect recipes in the UAE which I still use. Costs are high and continue to increase. Flour used to cost Rs2,700 a sack two months back and now it is Rs5,200. Even simple things like chocolate are hard to find, so we have to change brands. Loans are inaccessible, suppliers can be unreliable. Another drawback is the lack of importance given to hygiene, and some restaurants actually need to be immediately shut down. There is always a new competitor – a café or a bakery.&nbsp; But everything I have done from my trekking days, waking up at 3AM to make bread in Jawalakhel, to the years in the UAE has brought me to this time and place at The Lemon Tree. &nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

The return of a master baker

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

Chinese EV company Dongfeng Nammi has exported 12,000 units of the JF-S3 to over 40 countries, doing especially well in Norway, Latvia, the Czech Republic, and the Netherlands. It is also setting up production facilities in South America and Southeast Asia.&nbsp;

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