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.

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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

<img width="640" height="790" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/637230399c7e80680e0c2555jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>I left for Bahrain to work as a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/demand-grows-for-nepali-caregivers-in-israel/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">caregiver</a> in 2007, and it was only five years later that I revisited my passion for art.  Ever since I was a young boy back home in Nepal, I used to love drawing. I did not go to a school that encouraged arts and craft, but I would often find myself doodling pictures of flowers, or doing calligraphy whenever I got a chance in my personal time.  It made me feel good to make these drawings, and as I grew up my passion for artwork increased. I was not able to give it the time I wanted because life and responsibilities took over. For the first five years after arriving in Bahrain, I was not able to devote much time to painting because I did not have time and my work was demanding. But once I started getting comfortable with my job and my employer, I could start taking out time for it.  Now in retrospect, it is as if the stars aligned to make sure the artist that was always in me was allowed to blossom, even though I had to leave Nepal for a job overseas.  <img width="572" height="517" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/6372303c9c7e80680e0c2556jpeg.jpg" alt="">As fate would have it, my employer happened to be an accomplished artist. What were the odds? It was providence. I admire his paintings a lot, and he is a genius who inspired me deeply. Having lived with him for over 15 years now, I have greatly benefited from his mentorship. Read the previous installments of Diaspora Diaries <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/tag/diaspora-diaries/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">here</a>.From the very outset, when my employer noticed I had a talent for drawing, he encouraged me and was generous with his time and guidance. He gives me constant feedback and buys me art supplies.  I stick to pencil drawings because my work does not lend itself to oil. I have to take care of my employer all the time, and oil painting can be messy. The colour mixes can dry up in the palette if I do not take care of it for too long, and I would not feel good wasting paint. So I stick to pencil art which I quite enjoy. After 300-400 portraits, I think I have got better at it.  <img width="640" height="562" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/6372303d9c7e80680e0c2557jpeg.jpg" alt="">The nature of my work also allowed me to spend endless hours drawing. My employer had a stroke that has paralysed him, so needs assistance throughout the day and night. But there are long hours when he is resting or sleeping when I have to be nearby looking out for him, but do not have any real work to do.  And that is the time I spend making portraits of loved ones, and of strangers I admire. Each portrait can take anywhere between 5 to 15 hours, and I lose myself in the work during that time. It is therapeutic, to just forget the world and disappear in my own creative space.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-high-life/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The high life</a> When I eventually return to Nepal, I want to take up art professionally as a full time engagement, and am grateful for the years in Bahrain where I was given the space to hone my skills, and have a mentor who encouraged me to keep at it.  Taking care of the same person for years, especially when the family treats me like their own, has meant I have become rather fond of my employer. He is now 81. We tell each other stories of our vastly different backgrounds. He talks fondly of his childhood. He used to be a football player when he was young and loves to show me the scars in his knee from the time he hurt himself while playing.  But he is not always cheerful, especially when he has to come to terms with his current reality. For someone as accomplished as him who has lived a successful life with a loving family, an artist who has made phenomenal oil paintings but can no longer paint, an engineer who is stuck in his wheelchair, he is often despondent.   When he is especially down, he talks about how this is the end for him, how things will only get worse from here on, and that he is just waiting to die.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-sons-dream/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">A father's sacrifice for his son's dream</a> <img width="640" height="518" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/637230409c7e80680e0c2558jpeg.jpg" alt="">Over the past 15 years, I have grown rather attached to my employer. When I refer to myself as his servant, he scolds me, and calls me his “son”. We have our disagreements, of course, and days when things do not go too well.    But that is the nature of all jobs, we all have our grievances and things could always be better. But I know that I have it fairly easy compared to many other Nepali workers, especially when they have to work in families that are not very nice to them.    Besides, my pay is fairly good and this has enabled me to build a house back in Nepal, and improve my family’s living standard.  But most importantly, I have grown as an artist.   On his 80th birthday, I drew a portrait of my employer (pictured below). It took me 15 hours to do it, and it was a surprise gift. I asked his wife to help me frame it. When I gifted it to him, he was gleaming with happiness and hugged me.    Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/sons-of-their-fathers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sons of their fathers</a>, Upasana Khadka   <img width="1080" height="1331" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/637230429c7e80680e0c2559jpeg.jpg" alt="">I am flying back to Bahrain after a two month leave in Nepal. I think this will be the last time I renew my contract. But I say that every time, and I extend my contract two more years. Whenever I have thought of returning home for good and he asks me to stay on, and I oblige.  There are of course practical reasons, including having this stable job with a good employer who is almost a father figure that makes me want to stay on. But there is also the attachment and the sense of responsibility I feel towards him after taking care of him for so many years.  I cannot just quit and leave when he is so fragile and dependent on me. How could I? Translated from a conversation in Nepali. 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" rel="noopener noreferrer">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.

Painting a bright future

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208829c7e80680e0b54edjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1656" height="1142"/><figcaption>Hom Nath Giri at his desk in a company in Kuwait City. PHOTO: Hom Nath Giri</figcaption></figure>I am not sure where to start telling you the story of the journey of my life.I come from a very simple family. My father’s job as a court messenger was to deliver legal letters and messages. His salary was not enough to support our family, so in 1994 he went to Saudi Arabia where he found a job as a gardener, working outdoor in the desert heat.We communicated in letters and if we did not hear from him for over two months, my mother would start crying. The letters my siblings and I wrote to him were formal, in a style they taught us in school. They all started with ‘Sri Pujaniya Baba, Shastang Dandawat’ (Respected father, I bow to you).In all his letters over the years, my father reminded us to do well in school. One of them said:“If I had studied, I would not have had to work here as a gardener. Even in Saudi Arabia, I would have got a much better job. I would have had opportunities for promotion. But there are no promotions for gardeners like me. This is why it is important that you study. I am working here to enable you to study hard.”When my father turned 50, I decided it was time to bring him back from Saudi Arabia. He had worked very hard for ten years, and it was my turn to step up.My father came back, passed on the foreign employment baton to me. In 2004, I left for Kuwait to work as a security guard. The heat was oppressive and the work was not easy. Over a dozen of my colleagues went back to Nepal one by one, either because they were caught sleeping during duty hours and got laid off, or because they just could not bear the heat.I stayed on, determined to keep working no matter how difficult it got. I was promoted many times in the past 17 years from Shift Supervisor to Patrolling Supervisor to Operation Supervisor. Then I became the Assistant Operation Manager, Operation Manager and I am now the Assistant Managing Director.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208859c7e80680e0b54eejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1870" height="1226"><figcaption>Giri with his father and mother when they visited him in Kuwait in 2018. His father toiled as a gardener in Saudi Arabia to support his family, he died a year after this picture was taken.</figcaption></figure>I grew up delivering newspapers around Pokhara starting at 3AM on a rusty, donated bike for Rs1,000 Rupees a month. I used to be  drenched in sweat and dizzy during my 12 hour shifts as a security guard when I first arrived in Kuwait.The odds were stacked against me. I would have laughed if someone had told me I would have the position I am holding today. But it wasn’t my education that helped me rise up the ranks. Little things like my English skills, integrity and work ethics did.Foreign employment worked for me. It gave me a platform. When we aspire to go overseas, we go after manpower agents. We plead with them to connect us with jobs, we call or message them desperately. But the minute we get on the plane, we start scolding them.If I met the manpower company owner who sent me to Kuwait, I would actually thank him. My success has meant that I have been able to lift my family back in Nepal out of poverty.I have brought my brother-in-law and his son also to Kuwait for jobs. I have connected people from my village to well-paying work here. My financial strength has spillover effects on those associated with me.Read also: <a style="font-size: medium; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: normal; background-color: #ffffff;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/">In the mind of Nepali migrant workers</a>, Upasana KhadkaWas it the Nepal government that helped me? No. It was the recruitment agency that gave me this opportunity. They get all the blame, but never the credit for success stories like mine.Of course, they deserve to be punished when they cheat workers, especially when they promise the wrong job or pay. But it is also true that they have done more for many than what the government ever did.My father’s experience in Saudi Arabia ensured that our family had enough to eat and our basic needs were met, even though we had no savings. My Kuwait experience elevated my family even more. All because of foreign employment.Luck was on my side, I realise that. There are many like me who have done well. But I must say that a large majority of Nepalis come here and leave without making much progress in their salaries or positions.Hard work is key. So is having a vision and proper planning so you have specific goals to strive towards. Many of us do not get that kind of guidance so we do not know how to make use of available opportunities.Soft skills like computers and English proficiency are critical to make use of available opportunities of which there are plenty but not well exploited by Nepalis. How do we inculcate that drive to keep learning and bettering ourselves so we are given opportunities to rise?Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-year-of-migrant-workers/">The year of migrant workers</a>, EditorialI started as a security guard but I relied on people around me to help me learn how to use a computer. I still remember shouting with joy when I typed a paragraph in a Word document and my colleague got it printed.I have started getting comfortable with this lifestyle. After being stuck in Nepal for 8 months during the Covid-19 pandemic, I have changed my mind about returning anytime soon. I explored opportunities in the hotel and restaurant line back home but was unable to muster the courage to make an investment and start something on my own.For me, foreign employment is a secure option. I have seen many friends who returned to Nepal for good, used up all their savings in some unsuccessful venture and came right back to Kuwait. After so many years away, we do not have the network, contextual knowledge or the ability to deal with the corruption that defines every aspect of life in Nepal. The idea that honest work can help us succeed in Nepal feels a bit far-fetched at the moment.Of course you miss the little things like taking your children to school or playing with them. But having experienced both being the son of a migrant as well as a migrant father,  I can say the situation is much better now for transnational parenting.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208889c7e80680e0b54efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1772" height="1280"><figcaption>Giri with his son when his family visited him before the pandemic. PHOTO: HOM NATH GIRI</figcaption></figure>When I was a boy, the postman used to come every Thursday as we waited for our father’s letters. Sometimes the letters would be stuck somewhere and we would receive all six on the same day after six months of radio silence and panic. Now I see my children every few months in person and talk to them every day.Despite being away from Nepal, I feel like I can contribute more from here than if I were back home. Whether during earthquake or Covid-19, we have sent a lot of support to Nepal including oxygen cylinders.There are many Nepalis who require help in the Gulf region, and I find myself spending a good chunk of my salary and time every month helping them. I am lucky that I can do that. I often get sentimental when I go back to my apartment after dealing with people who need help. I write poetry to get the weight off my chest.What was most distressing was having to walk out of Kathmandu airport once behind men who were pushing two coffins in luggage trolleys. The bodies had been repatriated in the same flight as mine. Later, I composed these lines:घर गाउँमा रुवाबासि पिर पठाएछ,सम्झनालाई अन्तिम चिनो तस्विर पठाएछ॥खुशि बोकी घर फिर्छु भन्थ्यो परदेशीले,कठै! आज बाकसभित्र शरिर पठाएछ॥He said he would come home and bring joy,But he brought back tears and grief.He sent a photograph as a parting gift.Alas! He sent his own body home in a box.That, too, is foreign employment.One of my favourite memories is when I brought my father to Kuwait in 2018. He came to my office and sat with pride behind my desk. He told me all those years of toil in Saudi Arabia had been well worth it.What I have achieved in my life is in large part due to the motivating letters our father wrote to us from Saudi Arabia. He sacrificed his life for us. We lost him last year, and I miss him every day.Translated from a conversation with Hom Nath Giri in Kuwait. 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" rel="noopener noreferrer">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.  Read more:<a style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: normal; background-color: #ffffff; font-weight: 600;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries 1</a>, Nepali Times<a style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: normal; background-color: #ffffff; font-weight: 600;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-days-of-international-migration/">The Days of International Migration</a>, Editorial

Diaspora Diaries  2

<figure><img width="2062" height="1152" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/6372032b9c7e80680e0b27f3jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Min Dai in B P Koirala Cancer Hospital in Bharatpur before the surgery to remove his tumour. </figcaption></figure>Min Dai found it difficult to support his wife, two sons and mother while living in a squatter settlement in Chitwan, and ten years ago opted to go to Malaysia to work.He used all his savings and borrowed money to pay a recruiter for a job and flew to Malaysia in 2011 to work as a security guard at a Panasonic factory in Selangor.However, Min Dai found out he had been cheated by the recruiter, and was being paid only half the promised salary. So he left the company, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undocumented-Nepali-migrant-workers-in-Malaysia,3958" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undocumented-Nepali-migrant-workers-in-Malaysia,3958&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1dCJsXc8dVBHI_puDTRU4V">hoping to earn more</a> as an undocumented worker moving from one job to the next. He worked in many companies as a security guard, but because he was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepalis-in-malaysia-to-gain-from-amnesty/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepalis-in-malaysia-to-gain-from-amnesty/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2r7sTXtbV7oIayQ24h_YE0">undocumented </a>employers <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/As-It-Happens/Nepali-migrants-illegal-Malaysia-,718" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/As-It-Happens/Nepali-migrants-illegal-Malaysia-,718&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw148CDUzZqKNLDm38vyZCRK">often took advantage</a> of him, and did not pay his salary, or made him work without days off. He did not want to return to Nepal until he saved enough to pay back the loans he took to pay the recruiter.Last year, the 38-year-old started getting a sharp pain in his left thigh, but did not have the time to get a checkup. Without a passport, proper papers and <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/31269052/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/31269052/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2wyJ1t299N1KyPO4YeS95A">insurance</a>, he could not be <a href="https://spm.um.edu.my/2020/12/06/no-need-for-immigration-enforcement-when-seeking-healthcare/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://spm.um.edu.my/2020/12/06/no-need-for-immigration-enforcement-when-seeking-healthcare/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0pHRd5YEWxcZ-JIqPQPuyR">admitted to hospital.</a> <img width="2054" height="1160" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/6372032e9c7e80680e0b27f4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="2060" height="1166" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/637203319c7e80680e0b27f5jpeg.jpg" alt="">Min Dai in 2011, just before going to Malaysia (left). Min Dai in 2018, working as a security guard in Selangor, Malaysia (right).So, Min Dai decided to return to Nepal. But the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-workers-in-malaysia-fear-covid-19-crackdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-workers-in-malaysia-fear-covid-19-crackdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3WP7aIv4CFl4TgMwXZUu5T">Covid-19 pandemic </a>hit and all <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-migrants-again-caught-up-in-2nd-wave/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-migrants-again-caught-up-in-2nd-wave/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3QV6UQgsq-sekFwEde2mtm">flights to Kathmandu were cancelled</a>. As his pain got worse, he finally managed to pay an agent $720 for a one-way ticket to Kathmandu in November 2011.His family eagerly awaited his return, little knowing about his health condition. He got a checkup at the B P Koirala Memorial Cancer Hospital in Bharatpur and was diagnosed with chondrosarcoma in his femur, a rare bone cancer. As an undocumented worker, Min Dai also did not qualify for support and loans from the Nepal government. Neither does he have insurance to pay for his hospital treatment. Min Dai’s wife works as a janitor in a hospital in Bharatpur and his mother runs a streetside shop. With savings nearly all gone, and the need to pay school fees for his two sons, the family is borrowing money to pay for hospital care. <figure><img width="640" height="360" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/637203349c7e80680e0b27f6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>The Nepal Embassy in Kuala Lumpur issues a one way travel certificate for undocumented workers without passports. Min Dai received his on 30 November, 2021 so he could fly back to Nepal.</figcaption></figure>Doctors performed an endoprosthetic surgery on Min Dai’s leg last week and removed a large tumour after a nine hour operation. A biopsy will determine the course of future treatment, but medical costs are expected to be extensive. <img width="640" height="352" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/637203379c7e80680e0b27f7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="338" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/6372033a9c7e80680e0b27f8jpeg.jpg" alt="">Min Dai’s pathology report on 19 December that confirmed chondrosarcoma (left). Surgery details by the doctor at BP Koirala Cancer Hospital (right).Min Dai is recovering in the ICU at the Bharatpur hospital, and may need to be in hospital for at least another month. Part of the hospital bills were paid for through a <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/CancerCare4Min" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.gofundme.com/f/CancerCare4Min&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3__J_17kLCBwBnS6kEQa4p">GoFundMe campaign</a> launched by Min Dai’s well-wishers which has so far raised $2,681 of the $13,000 goal.Contributions have gone to pay for Min Dai’s hospital bills, and his supporters have made an appeal for further donations which will go to repay some of his loans.Contributions can be made through the ‘Cancer Care for Min Dai’ GoFundMe Campaign: <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/CancerCare4Min" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.gofundme.com/f/CancerCare4Min&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641445643807000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3__J_17kLCBwBnS6kEQa4p">https://www.gofundme.com/f/CancerCare4Min</a> or through the following bank account in Nepal:Bank Name: Global IME BankAccount Name: Hira GurungAccount number: 0107010040271

Appeal for cancer care for Nepali worker

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

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

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

UFO over Pokhara

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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