Last year, 775,000 Nepalis left for employment abroad, and another 100,000 students flew out to study overseas. Nearly a million young Nepalis left in 2021-22, and that figure does not even include those who went to India.&nbsp; This is the largest mass exodus of young Nepalis in the country’s history. No country can sustain such a sustained haemorrhage.&nbsp; There are few Nepalis left in villages, and those in cities seem to be mostly waiting for documents to leave. Every day, 3,000 Nepalis leave on student visas from Kathmandu airport. The 2021 census put the country’s absentee population at 2.1 million, and that appears to be a gross underestimate. “The youth are not keen to stay at home, and their parents do not want them to stay here either,” says sociologist Ganesh Gurung. “It seems as if the entire nation is on the move.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">Migration not a wish, but necessity for Nepalis</a>, Shristi Karki <div class="embed-block"><iframe src='https://flo.uri.sh/visualisation/14955345/embed' title='Interactive or visual content' class='flourish-embed-iframe' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' style='width:100%;height:600px;' sandbox='allow-same-origin allow-forms allow-scripts allow-downloads allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation'></iframe><div style='width:100%!;margin-top:4px!important;text-align:right!important;'><a class='flourish-credit' href='https://public.flourish.studio/visualisation/14955345/?utm_source=embed&utm_campaign=visualisation/14955345' target='_top' style='text-decoration:none!important'><img alt='Made with Flourish' src='https://public.flourish.studio/resources/made_with_flourish.svg' style='width:105px!important;height:16px!important;border:none!important;margin:0!important;'> </a></div></div> An increasing number of Nepalis are leaving to study while working: primarily in Australia, Japan, Europe, and North America. Those who leave face bureaucratic hassles trying to get no-objection certificates, and when they come back they get the run around trying to obtain an equivalency for foreign degrees so they can work here. Last month, six young Nepalis from Rasuwa left their studies, jobs, and businesses to seek employment in Croatia. “With luck, I can get a PR (Permanent Residency) in some other European country, Croatia is just a stepping stone,” said Bhuvan Neupane, one of the six. Elsewhere in Nuwakot’s Bidur village, Binod Poudel is hoping to go abroad and has handed his passport to a foreign employment agent. “All my friends have left Nepal,” he says. “What am I supposed to do here?” Aakriti Timilsina is a high school graduate, and has given up on college in Nepal and is preparing to study in either Canada or Australia by working part-time there. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">Nepal’s hard working students overseas</a>, Sonia Awale <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="Studying Abroad " aria-label="Map" id="datawrapper-chart-0JsdR" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/0JsdR/4/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="900" height="483" data-external="1"></iframe></div> A recent study by the online platform Studyportals revealed that Nepali students make up 14.3% of international students across the world. Sociologist Dinesh Prasain notes that a lack of employment and meaningful earnings are the primary reasons for the young to leave. Basic items have become unaffordable even in fixed-income households. But there are other push factors as well: peer pressure, falling living standards, and a growing hopelessness that the future will be better because of corruption and political disarray.&nbsp; At the end of the Maoist insurgency in 2006, there was expectation that stability would yield a peace dividend. But Nepali politics remains in the stranglehold of tried, tested and failed leaders. Volatile and populist behaviour of new elected leaders has disappointed many young people, while some parties resort to religion and bigotry.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/inconvenient-truths">Inconvenient truths</a>, Editorial  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230908040920_e0cbd240a58b106e912ff5929f838821076ca23de511298525fc5a6fb19da0d1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230908040920_e0cbd240a58b106e912ff5929f838821076ca23de511298525fc5a6fb19da0d1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Page 1"> </figure>  Young Nepalis enthusiastically voted for alternative candidates in the 2022 local and federal polls, but mayors Harka Sampang and Balen Shah have been more adept at posting inflammatory comments on social media than actually delivering on election promises. This week Shah made outright threats to burn down Singha Darbar because the car carrying his wife was stopped for speeding. The post got millions of shares and likes before he took it down. Many also took the outburst as a sign that the Kathmandu mayor offers no real hope of reform. A series of corruption scandals from fake refugees, the Baluwatar land scam, gold smuggling and politicians trying to protect each other by transferring police investigators has added to the public disillusionment. “Nepali society has lost faith in politics and the leadership to make things better,” explains sociologist Dinesh Prasain. “Nepali parents &nbsp;would rather their children go somewhere better, and youngsters do not want to remain in what they see as a sinking ship.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/false-equivalence-in-nepal-academia">False equivalence in Nepal academia</a>, Aastha Dahal <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="No-Objection Certificate for students" aria-label="Column Chart" id="datawrapper-chart-c67xC" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/c67xC/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="450" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div> Nepalis are lining up to fight in foreign armies, and even recruited themselves into both sides of the Russia-Ukraine war because of the promise of earnings and citizenship. This movement is helping keep Nepal’s economy afloat. Remittances contributed significantly to lowering Nepal’s poverty rate to below 17%, but over the long-term the cost of losing such a large proportion of the working age population is incalculable.&nbsp; Some 65% of Nepal’s total population is in the 15-64 age group, and Nepal is losing this demographic advantage. The country has only one-and-a-half decades left to take advantage of an active youth workforce. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/in-a-federal-kleptocratic-republic-of-nepal">In a Federal Kleptocratic Republic of Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki <div class="embed-block"> <iframe title="Population by age group" aria-label="Split Bars" id="datawrapper-chart-3L11U" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/3L11U/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="600" height="595" data-external="1"></iframe></div> Sociologist Dinesh Prasain describes the exit of young Nepalis as a moral crisis: “It is a failure of the political leadership. A country without its youth has lost its soul.” Meanwhile, Nepal’s politicians are just mouthing platitudes. Finance Minister Prakash Sharan Mahat last week urged young Nepalis to “change their mindset”, even arguing that Nepali students should be barred from studying abroad. Economist Pushkar Bajracharya says that there has to be a step-by-step strategy to create opportunities for Nepalis at home in order to prevent a brain and brawn drain: “If out-migration continues to grow as this pace, we are not only looking at a socio-economic crisis but also a threat to our sovereignty.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance">High-risk remittance</a>, Upasana Khadka

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Push factors driving Nepalis out

Migrant workers returning from the Gulf and Malaysia make up 40% of infertility cases at Paropakar Maternity and Women's Hospital in Kathmandu. Studies have highlighted the problem of sterility among men who have<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/caring-for-nepals-women"> returned from working abroad</a> in extreme temperatures and are prone to unhealthy lifestyles including smoking and alcohol consumption. Sarlahi resident Sanjeev Sah had gone to Saudi Arabia for work just a year into his marriage. Concerned about his wife having to raise a child alone during his absence, 32-year-old Sah and his wife postponed their plans for a baby. Three years later after his return, the couple has not been able to conceive. They sought treatment at Paropakar Hospital in Thapathali. Sah was diagnosed with azoospermia, with no measurable sperm count. “Doctors told me that working in high temperatures abroad reduced the quality of my sperm,” says Sah. Suraj Adhikari from Dhading worked in Malaysia for three years, He married at 28 but was unable to conceive with his wife and was also diagnosed with azoospermia at an infertility clinic. Adhikari worked at a construction site in Malaysia which left him little time for basics such as food and water. Despite<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/gulf-workers-need-protection-from-heat"> extremely high temperatures</a>, he often went without water for prolonged periods because it was not always available. Doctors blame his time and lifestyle for the decline in his sperm quality. “Neglecting essentials while working abroad has led to a costly and time-consuming treatment for me,” Adhikari laments.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903040916_17d0de92dd3eb03aa0e268ca5e30187ad21900f10f86f1bc6b7e9cc7ca1d540b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230903040916_17d0de92dd3eb03aa0e268ca5e30187ad21900f10f86f1bc6b7e9cc7ca1d540b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Migrant infertility NT"> </figure>  Infertility is on the rise, globally and in Nepal. This is especially true for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">workers returning</a> from the Gulf and Malaysia, having worked in hotter temperatures. Half of the patients with childlessness visiting the outpatient department at Paropakar Maternity and Women's Hospital every day are migrant returnees. “Working conditions with high temperatures reduces the quality and quantity of sperm in young men,” confirms Vinita Thapa, sperm specialist at the hospital. Shree Prasad Adhikari, the director of Paropakar Maternity and an infertility pathologist, notes that 25 out of every 100 couples face infertility presently, and the problem has now grown particularly among those returning from foreign employment. Two years ago, Tribhuvan University Teaching Hospital conducted tests on 186 men seeking infertility treatment at the institute. Of these, 46.2% had previously worked in the Gulf. The research report, published in the journal PubMed, revealed low sperm quantity and quality in some cases as well as a very low number of sperm capable of fertilising eggs in others. According to the WHO, one in every six adults, or 17.5% of the world’s population suffers from infertility. In Nepal, where children are seen as a form of security and add to the social prestige, infertility can have far-reaching implications. An increase in infertility could also be a contributing factor to an ultimate decline in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/counting-on-nepal">population</a> together with delayed marriages. And yet, assisted reproductive technologies such as in vitro fertilisation (IVF) remain financially inaccessible and carry social stigma for many individuals.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903040916_fc6932b9f60d4f08e3c9834b4e141afba4d939726f297f9d4f1bcd8a674ebb23.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230903040916_fc6932b9f60d4f08e3c9834b4e141afba4d939726f297f9d4f1bcd8a674ebb23" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Migrant infertility NT"> </figure>  A study by the Hebrew University of Israel and Mount Sinai School of Medicine in the US found that the average sperm count globally has decreased by half over the past 50 years. The study also revealed a decline in sperm quality, including a decrease in the number of sperm capable of fertilising eggs. Between the 1970s and 1990s, the rate of sperm count decline increased from 1.16% per year to 2.64% by the early 2000s. Paropakar Maternity and Women's Hospital introduced a semen storage service in June, allowing Nepalis to preserve semen and eggs if they require delayed childbirth. For instance, young individuals going abroad for a long time can <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/freezing-a-future-family-IVF-embryo-surrogacy,3881">store semen for reproduction</a> upon their return. Additionally, if the husband is absent, the wife can undergo artificial insemination using the stored semen, a technique called intrauterine insemination (IUI). In the IUI process, women are given medication and injections to stimulate egg production. Once mature eggs are produced, they are released through an injection. About 36-40 hours after releasing the eggs, a viable sperm is selected and placed into the uterus using a catheter, explains sperm specialist Thapa. The hospital is performing IUI on four to five women on a daily basis, at Rs5,000-10,000 per procedure. If pregnancy doesn’t occur after six IUI attempts, IVF is recommended. Adds Thapa: “Many are not aware but 90% of couples facing childlessness can be treated.” Since the introduction of the storage service in June, 15 couples have inquired but only two couples have agreed to store semen. The maternity home is also launching semen and egg donation programs wherein women having difficulty producing eggs can use donor eggs and the husband’s sperm. Similarly, when their husband’s sperm isn’t viable, the wife’s egg can be combined with donor semen for insemination.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903040916_bb962f67de4e8325418117724d37ab0d9cc744195c68224e45973832aad89be1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230903040916_bb962f67de4e8325418117724d37ab0d9cc744195c68224e45973832aad89be1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Migrant infertility NT"> </figure>  “The stored semen remains effective for almost six years, retaining 60% of its initial quality,” assures Thapa. But more often than not, most childless couples fail to seek medical attention on time, resorting instead to shamans, witch doctors, and other ineffective measures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-first-human-milk-bank">Paropakar </a>is the sole government facility providing effective treatment for childlessness at present. Hospitals often lack counselling services. Infertility treatment depends on the underlying cause ranging from pharmaceuticals to embryo implantation through assisted reproductive technologies (ART). Some 80-90% of childless couples can find solutions through regular treatment, says Paropakar director Adhikari. He adds that weight loss could be a solution for obese women struggling with infertility. In the case of blocked fallopian tubes, there are medications. For those with uterine tissue growth causing pregnancy complications, surgery can help their chances. But while normal medication can stimulate egg production, up to 50% of women facing infertility lack viable eggs. “Some older women might have reduced fertility despite having eggs. In such cases, medications and hormones can increase their capacity,” says Adhikari, adding that the government doesn’t need as much resources to fight infertility as much as it needs commitment. Treatment needs to be scaled up to reach all the district hospitals so that couples can easily access artificial insemination and other services while also promoting awareness and reducing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/maybe-baby">stigma associated with childlessness</a> in Nepal. The fact that migrant workers who are in every sense the backbone of Nepal’s economy don't have access to treatment means it is even more crucial that infertility, the stigma and the treatment are prioritised and effectively addressed. &nbsp;

Migrants returning from the Gulf with infertility

This is the 33rd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I still remember the first day I landed in the UAE in 2009. Dubai airport was sparkling clean, spotless. Outside, there was a fancy air-conditioned van with a smartly uniformed driver waiting to pick us up. As he cruised through the wide and clean roads effortlessly, I thought to myself that the driver looked more like a pilot. But reality soon hit. It was past 3 AM, and the scene outside started looking dirtier and dimmer as we drove further away from the airport. We had reached our labour camp and were dropped off in a dingy part of the city. This was our reality, not the glamour and the glitter of the first impression. At 18, I, too, had come to work in the country as a cleaner to add to the sparkle. Despite the disparity that quickly became evident, I found a sense of warmth in the way the Nepalis at the camp welcomed us. There were no cups, I cannot recall why. But the dais cut water bottles in half, and used the lower half to serve us tea with bread. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  They went out of their way to feed us after our long journey as they told us about our new home. I will never forget their 4 AM hospitality. &nbsp;&nbsp; As I was brushing my teeth after waking up, uncertain about what awaited me, I heard someone shout out my name. It turns out two of my school friends were already working in the same company for two years. What were the odds, I thought. I had finished Grade 12 and landed in Dubai to work so as to better my life. I used to get jealous of the village boys who came home from bidesh every two years or so for a month to relax and splurge money. It was one of those acquaintances on vacation who had advised me to make my passport. Like other Nepali youth, this was my foreign dream. My father was getting old so I had to assume responsibility of a provider. My induction training in Dubai, even for a cleaning job, was three weeks long. I had not thought of cleaning as a professional job, but here, it was being taught like it was a science. We were not going to mindlessly scrub floors, we were required to have a deeper understanding of the chemicals and cleaning tools. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty">Wounded in the line of duty</a>, Antare Khatri  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="692" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  I learnt a lot and as I scored over 80% in my assessment exam, and got placed in hotels. Those who scored lower had to work in office buildings and malls. At the hotel the manager had been secretly watching my work. He was obviously impressed because when a supervisor left he offered me the job. At just 20, I was unsure if I was up for the task as I would have to manage people significantly older than me. But I took a chance and was promoted from cleaner to supervisor. Over the next nine years in the UAE, I worked in about six hotels. I could not stay put in the same place for long because once the work would start getting repetitive, I wanted to move on to better things. From a normal hotel to a five star and subsequently to a luxury five star. I was also getting a degree in tourism on the side at an Indian-affiliated open university in Dubai. I did not manage to attend all classes because of my hectic work schedule, but I knew I needed the credentials for my future so somehow managed to complete it. My last employer in Dubai was Fairmont. Working at a five-star hotel has its perks. It is more professional, the staff is more competent. The managers had significantly better skills and experience that made you want to emulate them. There were also a lot of training opportunities. Lessons from books like Emotional Intelligence and Who Moved My Cheese? were taught in ways that injected Fairmont's values in our blood. I enjoyed my work and even got the 2018 Manager of the Year award, something I had never even dreamt would happen. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="794" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  &nbsp;At a get-together at a colleague's home, I saw a wall that was full of pictures from all over the world. I asked my friend's husband what countries he had been to. He laughed and said, "Perhaps it would be easier if you asked me what countries I have not been to." Indeed, as a flight crew, he had traveled the world. That was a turning point in my life. I had been stuck in one country for nine years, when there was a whole wide world out there. I made it a point to look for jobs that would allow me the same kind of mobility so I could broaden my horizon. Within a month, I identified a recruitment drive in Dubai for a cruise ship and passed the interview. I was to work on an Italian cruise ship as Assistant Chief Housekeeper. &nbsp;I remember the mixture of excitement and nervousness I felt when I first saw the ship at the dock: it had over 1,250 guest cabins and 800 crew cabins. It was so gigantic that when I tried to take pictures, the ship would not fit on my screen. My colleagues laughed at me saying it was a relatively small ship by industry standards and that they had worked in much bigger ones. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1293" height="1725" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  Life onboard is busy. Most of our guests are older people from all over the world who have the time and the money to travel around. As we hustle around the clock, it is easy to forget that we are in the middle of the ocean because the vessel is a world of its own. It does not matter where we are, really. Whether in the middle of the desert or ocean, we are working day and night to make money and provide for our families. Regardless of land or water, our lives revolve around that one day every month when we get our salary notification in our cell phone, this is what all this hustle is about. Everything else is secondary. I have now sailed to over 45 countries across the world in 17 months. It is like reading the review of a 300-page book: you just get a little taste of what those countries have to offer. At every port stop, we get to see the few main tourist spots, visit a couple of malls and have a meal before we hop back on to continue our journey. &nbsp;I make it a point to get good Indian or Nepali food, something I miss on board. But now that I am married, I am restless again. I am not as excited about traveling and meeting new people as I have been. My longing for home, to be with family, is growing stronger by the day. I can feel my priorities shifting, and it is just a matter of time before I act on it. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Translated from a conversation 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 editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Mountain to desert to ocean

This is the 25th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/here-now/diaspora-diaries/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.&nbsp; I am 70 years old, and finally got to travel to the UAE where two of my sons live. It was multiple firsts: the first time I left the country, the first time I got on a plane, and more importantly, it was the first time I saw what my sons, Krishna and Ram, had been describing to me for the last decades that they have been working overseas. We struggled to raise our children amidst poverty and hardship to ensure they got a good education, which was not easy. From dawn to dusk my husband and I looked for ways to ensure they were well fed and educated, while taking care of the livestock and farming.&nbsp; I did not have enough money to run a shop so I sold tidbits like chocolates, biscuits, cigarettes and bidi on a box by the wayside. Even this makeshift shop had its fair share of local customers in the village.&nbsp; When Krishna, my eldest, finished Grade 12, he decided to go abroad for employment. Not many people had left our village for overseas work in those days, unlike now when every house has someone abroad.&nbsp; 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/20230308060348_419a84eb70a4d3131f66fbad99bd9a7a486242bc9bc2ddc73e6ca2b5e3279b9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230308060348_419a84eb70a4d3131f66fbad99bd9a7a486242bc9bc2ddc73e6ca2b5e3279b9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 2"> </figure>  We were worried about sending him away, but he was determined to go. The only consolation was that we had a family member in the UAE who had helped Krishna secure his job, and would be there in case he needed support. Even then, we all wept when he left home, not knowing what to expect.&nbsp; He wrote us letters every month or so, and there was much relief when they arrived. My family members used to read out those letters to me and respond on my behalf. One message in Krishna's letters to us was not to &nbsp;compromise on the education of his siblings, like he had to.&nbsp; Ever since he went to the UAE 21 years ago, as the eldest son he had taken up the role of being the guardian of my children. Despite being young himself, he provided financial support for the family back in Nepal and ensured that his siblings had a good education. Fortunately, my children did not squander this opportunity and have done well for themselves.&nbsp; Even though Krishna sent us letters, it was only two years after he left that I first got to hear his voice. The shop with the phone was three hours away from our house, and I had to walk there to speak with him. The minute I heard his familiar voice, I choked and could not utter a single word. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060344_2b7622565be48a5407fbb4a4bfad30eff8cdd684bd788ab58bf296c1890f04d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230308060344_2b7622565be48a5407fbb4a4bfad30eff8cdd684bd788ab58bf296c1890f04d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="719" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 1"> </figure>  It was overwhelming and it felt like my son's voice was coming from a vacuum. The following year, he came home to visit for the first time. Since then, his trips have become more frequent.&nbsp; But this time, it was my turn to visit him in the UAE. My husband and I finally got to witness where two of my sons live. My youngest son Govinda, who is now in Nepal, is also a UAE returnee who after spending a few months there, quickly realised that if he was to progress like his brothers have in the UAE, he should first complete his studies so he returned mid-contract. I had seen the UAE through pictures and videos my sons showed me. But experiencing the place myself was completely different. The buildings are really tall, and the roads are wide. Everything is systematic.&nbsp; I especially liked how they treated my husband and me with respect in public places. We were not expected to wait in lines, for example. In Nepal, elderly people do not receive the same kind of respect.&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  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_764ba063a4dd78891e9313833c53488cde096dd112fcf5926caab0bf0a3811a2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230308060348_764ba063a4dd78891e9313833c53488cde096dd112fcf5926caab0bf0a3811a2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 3"> </figure>  &nbsp;Despite their busy schedules, my sons pampered us in the UAE for an entire month and showed us around. Even then, Krishna complains that he did not manage to take us to a couple of places he had planned because of time. I especially liked the tall aquarium and the botanical garden. We met many other Nepalis, I have lost count how many. There were at least a dozen from our own village who made it a point to come and see us. The person who drove us around was also from Arghakhanchi.&nbsp; Many of the Nepalis we met, reminded us just how lucky we were to be in the UAE. There are many Nepalis there, but not all parents have the luxury to visit their children.&nbsp; The Nepalis we met showered us with love and attention. One girl, in particular, who had lost her mother a few months back cried saying we reminded her of her parents, and that she missed them terribly. &nbsp;As we consoled her and gave her our blessings, we too could not stop our own tears.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf/"> For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_09a945d0b8a91141d6a7355daf8ea087743fe52f3e0d58b093acc470101f4680.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230308060348_09a945d0b8a91141d6a7355daf8ea087743fe52f3e0d58b093acc470101f4680" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 4"> </figure>  There were many moments like this when we felt emotional in the UAE. After all, it is a country in which my sons spent significant periods of their lives.&nbsp; One such moment was visiting Krishna's office, a travel company that he recently started in the UAE. At the office, they welcomed us with bouquets and sacred खादा scarfs. It is his perseverance that has brought him so far.&nbsp; He started small as an office boy 17 years ago and worked his way up, supporting &nbsp;his parents and siblings on his back as he rose. I could not have been prouder. What more can a mother ask?&nbsp; The month in the UAE went by quickly and I have come back bearing gifts for my grandchildren. I tell them we will visit my sons again “बाँचियो भने” (if we are still alive). Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060352_714abdde7300a7d866c96050d869b77f281e0865ce049344975de509633fe467.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230308060352_714abdde7300a7d866c96050d869b77f281e0865ce049344975de509633fe467" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 5"> </figure>  Because we were not used to travelling, Ram had come to Nepal to escort us to the UAE, and Krishna came back with us to Kathmandu. He will spend a few weeks with us, and this will make the separation somewhat easier.&nbsp; I have six children and ten grandchildren but such is life that other than during festival times, we do not get to see everyone. As they say, “छोरीहरु अर्काको घर जाने जात, छोराहरु कमाउन जाने जात” (the daughters get married and move out, the sons get jobs and move out). &nbsp; Because of my sons, we now live in a पक्की house in Butwal, very different from our thatch-roof home in the village which had खरको छानो and later a tin roof. Our home in the village is now empty. We go there once a year during festivals, when the abandoned house comes to life temporarily as we fill it with laughter, भैलो music and singing.&nbsp; Krishna refuses to let me sell the village house even though it is locked up most of the year. He does not want to give up the clan home where he was born and raised. There is too much emotional attachment.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cut-from-a-different-cloth/">Cut from a different cloth</a> 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 editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

A mother's sons

This is the 24th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/here-now/diaspora-diaries/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. [dropcap]O[/dropcap]ne of my earliest memories growing up in Butwal is my maternal uncle coming home with cakes on our birthdays. He ran a bakery and his arrival with cakes and other tasty pastries during festivities made me associate the profession with joy and good memories. Perhaps this is what instaled a passion for baking since my early childhood. Like my uncle, I also wanted to bring joy to others. From Butwal, I went to Kathmandu for further studies and an undergraduate in hotel management was a natural choice. My uncle had taught me things practically and a formal education pushed me to understand the theory behind what I had seen and learnt in his bakery while growing up. I chose baking as my specialisation. When Covid-19 hit, I immersed myself completely into the art of baking, and kept myself busy. I had moved back to Butwal and worked at my uncle’s bakery. The lockdown and closing of the world had made time available in abundance and I found ways to stay productive. From a loyal customer in my uncle’s bakery as a little girl, I had now transitioned to become his protégé, baking cakes in the mornings and bread in the evenings. It came naturally to me, and I realised that this is what I want to do all my life. Baking is exciting because it combines dedication, creativity and patience, and can transform seemingly familiar household items that are lying around in the kitchen like flour, oil and sugar to rise into mouth-watering delicacies. I particularly like preparing birthday cakes because it allows me to indirectly contribute to and become part of peoples’ lives and celebration. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230303150320_267981e4e01c806b8d419798715b1067221059d8cb46ce69d899bd5edcdef0eb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230303150320_267981e4e01c806b8d419798715b1067221059d8cb46ce69d899bd5edcdef0eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1901" height="1533" loading="lazy" alt="Baking as a metaphor for life NT 2"></figure>  When things started getting repetitive at my uncle’s bakery, I moved back to Kathmandu and took up internships at Yak &amp; Yeti and the Marriott. These short-term stints were enjoyable, but what I really wanted was an actual job, and like all Nepalis, I was faced with the dilemma of staying back or leaving. Having worked in Nepal in different places already, I felt like an overseas job had more to offer by way of learning, and would give me exposure. A job advertisement for a vacancy at the Atlantis in Dubai in my college social media group caught my eyes. The ‘free visa free ticket’ scheme as advertised felt like a scam, since most recruiting agencies falsely advertise such offers despite charging workers exorbitantly. But when I asked around, I found out that the job facilitated by my recruiter, Vision and Value Overseas, indeed was free and the aspirants were not charged a single penny. This was too good to be true. Perks like these and the possibility of working at a luxury hotel made the choice to try for an overseas job easy and exciting. I applied, and the recruitment fair was conveniently held at the Yak &amp; Yeti, the hotel where I was working on a temporary contract. But my heart sank when I did not see my name in the list of selected candidates. Two months later, however, I successfully passed the interview round in another ethical recruitment drive for the same hotel by the same recruiter for which I had prepared more seriously. Until then, I had not told anyone that I had applied for overseas jobs. My baker uncle was the first person I consulted with when I had the offer, and he encouraged me to pursue my overseas dream. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230303150320_5322ce4f8213bd190624aa3dc0be6d67ce2db8bea1b7c30ce206432a902c0a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230303150320_5322ce4f8213bd190624aa3dc0be6d67ce2db8bea1b7c30ce206432a902c0a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1672" height="1700" loading="lazy" alt="Baking as a metaphor for life NT 3"></figure>  It has been four months since I came here to Dubai, but I have already learnt a lot. I get to work with colleagues from diverse backgrounds, but it is also humbling to know that despite the language and cultural differences, we are all the same. Whether from Mexico, Ukraine or Nepal, we are here in search of better learning and earning opportunities with hopes of improving our lives and pursuing our passions. There is a strong emphasis on soft skills like team work and communications. While there were language barriers initially, I think my English has now vastly improved. As someone new here, I am still in my learning phase but then again, when does learning really stop? I may have learnt how to make bread in Nepal, for example, but am also exploring new methods to do so in the UAE as there are differences in the ingredients used and procedures followed. Hygiene, in particular, is of incomparable standards in the kitchen here. I also have it easier than many because my own brother and a cousin also work together in another hotel in the UAE as bartenders. Having a support system of family members overseas has definitely helped me adjust here. I earn six to seven times more than what I did in Nepal, and am able to send support to my mother and sometimes, even to my grandparents, even though they are reluctant to accept what I send. At this luxury hotel, it is common to see high profile visitors, even though waiters and those in customer facing roles get to interact with them more than we in kitchen who are behind the curtains. But I was fortunate enough to watch a Beyoncé show during our hotel opening. It was exciting beyond words. My ultimate dream is to become a Pastry Chef, but as a Commis III, I still have a long way to go. My journey has just begun. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a> Translated from a phone conversation 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 editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Baking as a metaphor for life

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/639057989c7e80680e0ce164jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="667" height="1000"/><figcaption>Mural in Lalitpur highlights the human cost of FIFA World Cup infrastructure building.</figcaption></figure>On 18 December 2022, the Men’s World Cup football final will be held at Qatar’s Lusail Stadium. It will mark the end of a journey that started in December 2010 when Qatar was awarded the tournament hosting rights.18 December is also International Migrants Day, a day set aside to honour migrant workers for their contributions and sacrifice. It is also Qatar’s National Day.Over the past 12 years, millions of migrant workers have toiled to make the 2022 World Cup possible, building key infrastructure, including the stadiums in Qatar. However, these workers have always been at the margins, and the authorities have been less than responsive to their abusive work conditions.Qatar’s Labour Minister recently <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">rejected</a> proposals for a remedy fund for abuses faced by migrant workers, including uncompensated deaths, further highlighting the lack of recognition for the people who perform the vast majority of the country’s labour. FIFA, football’s governing body, has not made a decision.But South Asian governments, too, share responsibility for these abuses. They wasted many opportunities to collectively push for reforms to address shared concerns, including numerous unexplained, uninvestigated and uncompensated deaths, high recruitment fees, and wage abuses.The preparations for the tournament owe a lot to South Asia. It is not just that the footballs are made in <a href="https://dailytimes.com.pk/954864/sialkot-made-footballs-to-be-used-in-fifa-world-cup-2022/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dailytimes.com.pk/954864/sialkot-made-footballs-to-be-used-in-fifa-world-cup-2022/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1NzGeZj8KixiILH3AFfWMZ">Sialkot, Pakistan</a>. Every state-of-the-art stadium in Qatar, and all of the <a href="https://dohanews.co/why-is-qatars-fifa-world-cup-the-most-expensive-in-history/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dohanews.co/why-is-qatars-fifa-world-cup-the-most-expensive-in-history/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw36QhvzvoqCzGDLJL6mPe2s">US$220 billion</a> in surrounding infrastructure, is largely built by South Asians. Migrant workers from the region are also employed in stadiums, hotels, malls, and airports, providing key services. The remittances these workers send to their families are critical to make ends meet—often the only source of income for many families.FIFA, football’s global governing body, has been a complacent enabler of abuses, while Qatar, the host country, has faced well-deserved criticism for the high human cost of the Road to 2022. FIFA did not carry out human rights due diligence over the abusive kafala labour sponsorship system in Qatar, or the prohibitions in Qatar that keep workers from forming unions or striking.After years of pressure over the conditions, the Qatari government introduced reforms that partially addressed key abuses. The government set up a Workers’ Support and Insurance Fund that became operational in 2020 to ensure that workers are paid even when companies fail to do so. Over $320 million has been disbursed as of September 2022 — an indication of the wide-scale nature of the problem.Such initiatives have had immediate impact on families far away. One South Asian worker <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/08/12/fifa/qatar-commit-compensate-abused-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/08/12/fifa/qatar-commit-compensate-abused-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3rObbFC7ovQisdJ9ep2geO">told</a> Human Rights Watch in July that he waited months for the system to process his request and send his money, even contemplating suicide, knowing his family had to take loans for his children’s education and parents’ health bills.Furthermore, only a small fraction of workers secured jobs without paying illegal recruitment fees.  One lucky worker <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/10/20/qatar/fifa-reimburse-migrant-workers-recruitment-fees" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/10/20/qatar/fifa-reimburse-migrant-workers-recruitment-fees&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2Lo8cYNRViKeJkCdZGqNyn">said,</a> “If I had not come for free and had paid recruitment fees as is common for Indians, my first paycheck would be going to the local money lender back home, and not to my mother.”But most of the migrant workers ‘paid to build’ the multibillion infrastructure project in the scorching heat. A 2020 <a href="https://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---asia/---ro-bangkok/---ilo-dhaka/documents/publication/wcms_766198.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---asia/---ro-bangkok/---ilo-dhaka/documents/publication/wcms_766198.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0Brh7VArawHHhAGhRxsxTK">survey</a>found that the  average recruitment costs for Bangladeshis going to work in Qatar was around $3,863, equivalent to 18 months of  earnings in Qatar. A significant portion of the remittances are simply spent to pay off loans taken to get these jobs.Companies affiliated with Qatar’s Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy, the body responsible for planning and delivering World Cup infrastructure, have committed to reimburse over $28 million in recruitment fees to 48,814 workers in Qatar. While a positive initiative, its impact is inadequate considering that it does not cover most migrant workers who helped build and service the necessary infrastructure for the World Cup. At any given time, there are over 2.2 million temporary migrant workers in the country.Qatar deserves credit for attempting reforms, but the benefits have been limited due to their late introduction, narrow scope, or poor enforcement. This is why Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and other organisations have called on FIFA and Qatari authorities to remedy past and ongoing abuses during World Cup preparations, including deaths, injuries and wage theft.Despite growing pressure from sponsors, football associations, former players and fans, FIFA is dragging its feet while the Qatari Labour Minister rejected the call last week, labelling it “a publicity stunt.”Qatar and FIFA still have a chance to shape the legacy of the World Cup. They have the resources and responsibility to remedy these abuses.The labour minister <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">said</a> that “every death is a tragedy”. But the greatest tragedy is that the authorities failed to properly investigate the causes of many worker deaths, deeming them ‘natural’, ‘unexplained’, or ‘cardiac arrests’, leaving their families without compensation because these causes are not considered work-related. Without adequate investigation, deaths caused by working conditions such as heat stress have gone uncompensated.FIFA has provided a total of $260 million of what it calls ‘legacy funds’ for humanitarian causes to host countries for three previous tournaments: in South Africa (2010), Brazil (2014) and Russia (2018). Qatar should be no different. It needs to set up a remedy fund for abused workers and the families of those who died unless it wants its legacy for the 2022 World Cup to be about worker abuse.There is one last opportunity for South Asian governments to back the call for a remedy and to work to ensure stronger protections for their workers. In particular, they are well placed to respond to <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">Qatari authorities</a> who claimed there is no data to establish these funds, with the Qatar Labour Minister <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">asking</a>: “Where are the victims, do you have names of the victims, how can you get these numbers?"South Asian governments can be an important resource to connect FIFA and Qatari authorities with families of migrant workers. This requires a detailed review of the existing databases and welfare systems. The Qatar government and origin country governments also have <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/07/11/families-bring-home-migrant-worker-remains-qatar" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/07/11/families-bring-home-migrant-worker-remains-qatar&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw119geBHsZHFpkVL5gX3A6_">data</a> of worker deaths because of the bureaucracy that families have to navigate to repatriate deceased loved ones. Origin country governments can also seek support from local civil society groups and media to locate families of deceased workers and other victims, putting out calls for information on national media outlets and government websites.The problem of establishing a compensation fund for migrant workers and their families has never been about data, —which is available, but about political will.Only if there is remedy will this tumultuous, 12-year journey end on a more humane note on 18 December 18, the day of the final of the 2022 World Cup, and more important, the International Migrants Day and Qatar’s National Day.Meenakshi Ganguly is the South Asia director at Human Rights Watch and Mohna Ansari is former member of Nepal’s National Human Rights Commission.

Labour rights legacy of the FIFA World Cup

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721cac9c7e80680e0bd4a3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="1276"/><figcaption>Ajay Shrestha in his cricket jersey during happier times. All photos: courtesy ANIL SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>I left for the UAE six years ago. It was a struggle to adjust to the new environment, but the country gave someone like me who had arrived with no experience a platform to work hard, and make a decent living.I started as a crew member at a restaurant, and by the end of six years, was working as an assistant manager making five times more than my starting salary.I did not have any reason to leave the UAE given my job security and attractive benefits, but my younger brother, Ajay, who was based in Malta wanted me to join him there.“Europe is Europe,” he used to say.My only motivation to go there was to be with my brother. Why live in two separate places when there is opportunity to be together to support each other, to celebrate festivals together, and create some semblance of a ‘home? My mother also loved the idea of her sons being together.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721caf9c7e80680e0bd4a4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="1200"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>He helped me find a job in Malta, also in the restaurant line. The salary was not all that different from what I was making in the UAE.When I joined my brother in Malta on 31 January  this year,  it had been three years since I had last seen him. We were thrilled. What I did not know then was that it would be a reunion that would change the trajectory of our lives.In addition to the excitement to see me, he was also looking forward to his trip back to Nepal on 1 March. He was already in holiday mode, excited to be back for the first time since he got here.A cricket fanatic, he had set aside a 1,900 euro fund to organise a game back home through a cricket academy in Bardia that a common friend had set up.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries 1</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721cb39c7e80680e0bd4a5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A mother’s boy, he was trying to decide between different mobile sets to buy for her, and also for an uncle.He worked as a bike delivery rider in Malta and in the morning of 16 February, he was scrolling through his phone when he got a delivery request and decided to take it up. Every extra euro would help, he said.I was playing a game on my phone and barely paid attention as he left the apartment. He later called from below the apartment to ask me to pass his power bank that he had left. As a delivery boy, it was an essential he could not afford to leave behind.He called again me to tell me to throw him his purse from the balcony. He caught it with a grin. Sloppy boy, I thought.A while later, I got a call from a fellow Nepali. He told me to go to the hospital because Ajay had met with an accident, about three kilometers from our apartment.I could feel my soul leave my body when I heard the news as I rushed to the hospital. As soon as I arrived, I was told by the doctor that Ajay was no more.The fact that he had come back twice to take his phone charger and wallet still haunts me. He had died on the spot when a truck hit him. Perhaps if he had not been delayed by those couple of minutes due to his absentmindedness, he would still be alive. The difference a few split seconds would have made.Needless to say, I was shocked beyond belief. How could this have happened? My eyes hurt to see my brother as he lay there in the hospital, as if we was in peaceful sleep. He looked normal and was still warm.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries 2</a>, Nepali TimesMy mother back in Nepal had to be rushed to hospital as she collapsed after hearing the news. This added to my grief and worry.In that abyss, I felt numb, unable to process what was going on. It had been only 17 days since I had arrived in Malta. Everything was a blur.Back in my brother’s apartment as I wept, I could not comprehend what was going on and what was next. I had to figure out how to take my brother’s body home. I did not know anyone there, or how the system worked.Friends came to the apartment to pay their respects. They were all in tears, and hugged me, brought me food and made sure someone was always at my side. I have no idea who these people were, but they were all Ajay’s friends and they were there for us, and to support me.Growing up, I was always the quiet one, and Ajay the more outgoing sibling. I used to be known as ‘Ajay’s Dai’ rather than Anil. Even in his death, I was ‘Ajay’s Dai’, surrounded by his friends, in an unfamiliar country, among unfamiliar people.It was also evident how much goodwill Ajay had garnered in Malta. I had at least five Nepalis who came to me to repay money they had borrowed from Ajay. They didn’t have to but they did. They were in tears.Many recounted memories of how he had helped them when they were struggling financially. In the following weeks, there were football games organised in his memory with moments of silence in his tribute. My brother, he had left a mark among many.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries 3</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721cb79c7e80680e0bd4a6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="960"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>These stories of death in a foreign land are common. It is a familiar sight for us Nepalis to see coffins arrive at Kathmandu airport. Most of them are on flights from the Gulf, where I spent six years.But this was the first fatality among Nepalis in Malta. Even the Prime Minister of Malta and the Mayor reached out to me and extended their condolences. The Nepali community there was stunned. Nepalis and Maltese friends crowdfunded for his repatriation, to support our family, and raised nearly Rs2.8 million with which we could send the body to Nepal.How do you describe the feeling of being on a plane with your brother in the cargo hold in a box? How can you talk about bringing a younger sibling’s body home to your parents?<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721cb99c7e80680e0bd4a7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="960"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>On the flight back home, I kept thinking about how my brother had brought me to Malta just weeks before he died. It was as if he had wanted his elder brother to take care of him, and bring him home.Had I been in the UAE, there was no way I would have been able to go to Malta to do that. The longer the wait, the more difficult it would have been for my parents, since seeing my brother’s body and completing the final rites at least provided them a sense of closure.Here in Bardia, the days are passing slowly. My priority is to take care of my parents who are distraught. My mother is almost  unrecognisable with shock and loss of appetite. She has no more tears left to shed.Things were just starting to look up for us. Three months ago, we bought our father a scooter so he could get around more easily than in his bicycle.My brother and I had just moved in together in Malta, and this happened. Nothing makes sense. I now want to find ways to keep my brother’s memories alive, and to fulfill his dreams.We organised the cricket tournament in his memory, and the finals were on Monday. A team from Banke district won.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-4/"> Diaspora Diaries 4</a>, Nepali Times<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721cbc9c7e80680e0bd4a8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="403"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Both us brothers were very fond of cricket growing up, perhaps because India is right across the border. But back then we could not even afford the basic equipment.We played with a tennis ball, and even that was expensive. We made our own bats. My brother had wanted to make sure that children of our home village would not have to suffer the same deprivation.Just a month before his death, my brother had sent another Rs15,000 to the sports academy to organise the tournament.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721cbf9c7e80680e0bd4a9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="958"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>On the opening day, I wore one of his favorite jerseys that said ‘AJ’ on the back. It is the little things that remind me of him, and make me suddenly burst into tears without warning. There are many memories of our childhood that make me feel simultaneously close to him, while reminding me of the cruel reality that he is not around anymore, and he will never be.The jersey is among his possessions that I brought back with me from Malta, leaving nothing behind in his apartment that I gave up before returning.I don’t think we will ever learn to move on from this loss. But perhaps one day we will learn to live with it.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali TimesTranslated from 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.

Fate joins, then separates, siblings

<img width="800" height="466" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209d49c7e80680e0b5566jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>After <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-days-of-international-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali migrant workers</a>, it is water sourced from Himalayan springs that have found a market 3,500km away in the desert nation of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Qatar</a>.The export project was derailed for two years by the pandemic, but Rudra Ganga Natural Water has started shipping Rasuwa: Super Premium Himalaya’s Natural Spring Water to Doha. Eight tonnes of water was recently air-freighted from Kathmandu to Doha in the first phase. The water samples were successfully tested and certified by Qatari authorities, where the 330 ml and 500 ml Rasuwa bottled water are available at 3.50 riyals ($1) and 4 riyals ($1.4) respectively in supermarkets. The company is planning to export additional 16 tonnes soon, and has got orders for another 50 tonnes to Dubai by March.“Those countries became rich by selling oil to the world and now we have started selling our water to them where drinking water is more expensive than petroleum,” says Bibi Kharel of New Langtang Himalaya Trading and Contracting, which is distributing Rasuwa Water in the Gulf.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/greens-from-nepal-in-qatars-desert/">Greens from Nepal in Qatar’s desert</a>, Upasana Khadka <img width="1280" height="828" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209d69c7e80680e0b5567jpeg.jpg" alt="">The sheikhdoms of the Gulf region suffer from some of the most chronic water shortages, and they spend billions every year desalinating sea water as well as in importing bottled water brands from Europe. Rasuwa is trying to tap into this market by selling the Himalayan and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/made-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal brands</a>. The exporters say Nepalis in Qatar and other Gulf countries are well regarded, many work in supermarkets and restaurants and can be good brand ambassadors. "Many Nepalis work in the hospitality sectors and with hotels being one of our biggest consumers we have reached out to our Nepali workers there,” says Kharel who is eying the 2022 FIFA World Cup later this year and the Doha Expo in 2023 to further promote water from Nepal.He adds: "As tourists from all over the world will be coming for the World Cup, it will also be a marketing platform for Nepal’s water globally.”However, all is not rosy for a small first-time exporter from Nepal to compete in the West Asian market which has attracted the world's largest water companies including Fiji water and Évian.Kharel is well aware of the competitive market but is hopeful that there will be greater interest in Nepal’s high-quality chemical-free Himalayan natural spring water collected from springs near Dhunche in Rasuwa at an elevation of 2,000m.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-days-of-international-migration/">The days of International Migration</a>, EditorialRudra Ganga Natural Water, which has a water treatment plant in Dhunche started production two and a half years ago with the goal of exporting water. While the pandemic delayed its initial plans, it is now researching markets including China, Australia and Saudi Arabia for export.“China has big potential, and we have spent a huge amount of money for the promotion of the Rasuwa Water market in Chinese cities. Our distributor will soon start mass sales in China,” says Ganesh Bahadur Bhandari of Rudra Ganga.In recent years, businesses have been looking at the possibility of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11264#.YhIyPi8w3u0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">exporting Nepal’s water overseas</a> and experts believe that Nepal can tap foreign markets if it properly utilised the good reputation of Himalayan spring water globally. <img width="195" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209d99c7e80680e0b5568jpeg.jpg" alt="">Rudra Ganga is in fact not the first company to attempt water export in Nepal. About 15 years ago, Himalayan Spring Water, also in Dhunche, had started exporting water to Korea. But it was unable to continue when its Korean investors pulled out.The company, which is now owned by businessman Ajay Raj Sumargi, produces water under the Himalayan On Top brand. Although On Top also started exporting to Saudi Arabia and Dubai, the venture has not been as successful.Bhandari of Rudra Ganga says that high air freight costs from Kathmandu is the biggest hurdle for expansion of the export market adding that it costs them about 60 cents (Rs72) to export 500ml of bottled water to Qatar. “For us, shipping costs are higher than production. Only by reducing it can we reach our potential,” he claims.Distributor Kharel agrees, it costs the company Rs55 per kg while shipping bottled water to Qatar, which he says should be reduced to Rs35 per kg to make Nepal’s water market competitive. Similarly, he argues that air cargo charges should be waived when exporting water through state-owned Nepal Airlines to support businesses.“If cargo cost is reduced by half, it will help in the export of other homegrown products too and in destination countries, we need support from Nepali missions abroad to market our products,” he adds.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/oil-rich-gulf-turns-to-renewable-energy/">Oil-rich Gulf turns to renewable energy</a>, Kunda Dixit <img width="1200" height="1460" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209da9c7e80680e0b5569jpeg.jpg" alt="">There is a cheaper alternative, businesses can export bottled water through the Indian sea ports at 10 per kg but it takes at least 45 days for cargo to reach Qatar via Kolkata, and a month through Visakhapatnam port.  Instead, if the government can make arrangements for exports from the Mumbai port, the goods can be delivered to the Gulf countries in five days. Nepali workers have played an important role in the transformation of West Asian countries which were built on the blood, sweat and tears of labour migrants. On the other hand, remittances from these workers have kept Nepal’s economy float despite recent crises including the pandemic. Migration experts say that bilateral agreements between Qatar and Nepal could explore mutually beneficial projects like this that could help Nepal’s economy -- and not just with income from remittances. Says Bibi Kharel: “We should now think beyond just exporting human resources, we should now be exporting our products too. And this will be crucial in generating reliable foreign exchange earnings and expanding enterprises.” Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-must-now-send-skilled-workers-to-qatar/"> Nepal must now send skilled workers to Qatar</a>, Nepali Times

Nepal’s water in Qatar

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdd89c7e80680e0a0c08jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Scars of injuries sustained by Shyam in his scalp when his Nepali employer in a restaurant in Luxembourg allegedly beat him with a tandoor skewer, ladles and other objects.</figcaption></figure>The Nepali restaurant is located in the richest country of the European Union, and its Facebook page is full of recommendations from guests lavishing effusive praise on its cuisine and service. The page also contains a post from its owner saying that the restaurant's chefs and staff prepare all meals with great care so that guests leave with satisfaction and good memories. What the Facebook page does not say is that the chef and staff had been made to work more than 18 hours a day as virtual slaves with their bank accounts, and in some cases passports, in the hands of an abusive owner. Luxembourg is Europe’s smallest country, and has the world’s highest GDP per capita. It is one of the founding members of the European Union, is one of its four capitals, and is also the seat of the Court of Justice of the European Union. Some of the restaurant’s regular customers could have been rich Europeans and those who worked on human rights. However, they were oblivious to the mistreatment and abuse of the restaurant’s Nepali staff by its Nepali owner. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration/">Two decades of debate on female migration</a>, Upasana Khadka “I arrived in Luxembourg in October 2015 with a work permit sent to me by the owner of the restaurant,” says Shyam from Baglung, who paid for his own air ticket. “I wanted to live a decent life and save enough to provide for my family. But what a disappointment it has been.” In a series of phone calls from Luxembourg, Shyam spoke of chronic beatings, abuse, withholding of salary, and substandard living conditions. Unable to bear it any longer he and some other co-workers lodged a complaint with the Luxembourg police in July.  The case will now be further investigated by the Police Judiciaire, and based on its verdict the prosecutor's office will decide whether there is enough evidence of human trafficking to file charges. After several attempts to contact the restaurant owner, he finally responded via an email from his lawyer denying all accusations. He says he had neither mentally nor physically abused his staff, or forced them to work for free for 16 months or work extra hours.  ‘All the claims made by my ex-employees are false. They might have received a better offer from competing business and hence they fled from the restaurant housing overnight leaving a resignation letter in my mailbox,’ he states in the email. ‘This is nothing but a stunt to defame my image and damage the reputation of my very well-established business.’  Luxembourg law does not permit naming of the restaurant and the owner, unless convicted, but Shyam’s story has been corroborated by two of his colleagues as well with depositions he made with the local Nepali community and the police.   When he arrived Shyam was given space above the restaurant to share with two other co-workers. The toilets were rudimentary, and they were allowed to take a bath only once a week and that too, very grudgingly.  The restaurant’s cook, Binod, left soon after Shyam arrived because he could not tolerate the injustice of the owner, who happened to be his relative. Nepali Times tracked down Binod in Chitwan this week, and he confirmed that the owner was physically abusive and exploited his employees from Nepal. Binod is an experienced chef, having worked for 12 years in India and seven years in Qatar before spending €3,000 of his own savings to go to Luxembourg to work for his relative, who sent him a work permit.   <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/caught-in-the-middle/migration-agency-exploitation,4003">Caught in the middle by middlemen</a>, Upasana Khadka He also agreed to work for 12 months without pay in lieu of his work permit. He was hired as a chef, but was asked to also do all the shopping, carrying heavy goods into the store, cleaning and other chores. He had been promised a four-hour working day, but ended up doing 18-hours a day.  Binod’s passport was taken away from him, and his phone calls were monitored. After he found the abuse intolerable, Binod asked his relative for his passport and money, but he lost his temper and beat him with anything he could lay his hands on. His employer opened a bank account in Binod’s name and would deposit about €2,000 every month. But the restaurant owner kept all the passwords himself and Binod could not have access to his account. The owner then withdrew most of the salary he had deposited, and gave only €500 to him. At first, Binod says he did not complain because he thought that was the way things were done in Luxembourg. Binod’s unwritten agreement with his relative was that he would work for free for one year to repay him for the work permit. But he ended up working at the restaurant for no salary, no leave and no weekends for most of the 3.5 years. “When I did not do as asked, he hit me with a metal tandoor skewer or a ladle,” Binod recalls. “There were many nights when I could not sleep because of the pain from the beatings, and the pillow would be soaked with blood from wounds in my ears.”  Binod would plead with the employer to take him to hospital to get stitches, but was not allowed. After nearly four years of this, Binod’s father died and he asked his employer for leave. When the owner refused, Binod got relatives back home to buy a one-way ticket back to Nepal and never went back to Luxembourg.  Both Binod and Shyam thought the prospect of a job in Europe would change their lives, and trusted a fellow-Nepali employer. But while Binod returned to Nepal because he could not bear the mistreatment, and did not want to turn against his relative, Shyam lodged the complaint with the authorities.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-and-malaysia-rewrite-rules-for-migrant-labour/">Nepal and Malaysia rewrite rules for migrant labour</a>, Kunda Dixit Binod and Shyam talked to us separately, and one did not know the other was in touch with Nepali Times. But the pattern of abuse and the method of exploitation they described unprompted were identical in both cases.  In July, three of the Nepali workers complained to the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRN) Luxembourg, and a section of the interaction was recorded by someone there. Shyam also said he had to work 16 hours a day without holidays, not allowed breaks or to meet with other Nepalis “I was imprisoned for seven years,” he said in the audio clip. Like Binod, Shyam’s verbal deal with the employer was that he would work without pay for the first 16 months to compensate him for arranging the work permit. But because that is not allowed under Luxembourg law, the employer would deposit €1,600 every month in his account, and he would withdraw the amount every month and hand it to the owner. He was sometimes allowed to keep €150 for himself as an allowance. For the first six months he was treated well by his employers, and he did not complain about the bad accommodation and poor food as the other employees were in the same predicament. But after that he started facing physical violence – being hit by skewers and boxed in the ears, like Binod. After 16 months, the owner made him sign an official contract as required by law. But even after that, he kept most of Shyam’s salary himself. In addition, the owner only gave the workers left-overs, vegetables and a thin gruel to eat.  “Sometimes we used scrap bones to make soup, and he would beat us up calling us thieves,” Shyam said on the phone. “At other times he would summon us in the middle of the night to massage his legs.”  Shyam says he tolerated the beatings and abuse because he did not want to lose face back home, and wanted to protect his mother from social stigma. He sold his land in Nepal, and brought his wife and two children over to Europe as well, and for this he needed his employer’s help. When he visited Nepal for the first time since leaving for Luxembourg, family members asked him about the scars on his face. He told them it was work related. Finally, unable to bear the abuse any longer, Shyam and three other staff – one of them another relative of the owner – decided to tell their story to the NRN. In the audio recording of their deposition, the relative of the owner is heard saying that although he and his wife were also mistreated, he could not come out openly to lodge a complaint because of his family ties to him.  Another staff member is overheard in the clip saying he was forbidden even to drink water or take a toilet break while in the kitchen. Shyam explained that after meeting the Nepali community, the three of them got the courage to file a complaint with the Commissariat Luxembourg on 25 July 2021. The NRN Chair in Luxembourg Hari Khatri and his family own a restaurant and grocery. He was shocked by the revelations of the four Nepali restaurant workers.  <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/women-migrant-workers-are-doubly-vulnerable">Women workers are doubly vulnerable</a>, Rojita Adhikari “In my 23 years living here, this has never happened before in the Luxembourg Nepali community. We all lived together as one family,” Khatri said on the phone. “The case is now with the police, they will investigate and we will soon know the facts. I will try to help the staff as much as I can.” There are about 450 Nepali residents in Luxembourg and some 120 households. Many of them have come as cooks to work in Nepali restaurants, and earn enough in about six months to bring their families over. Luxembourg law allows restaurant owners to import cooks if a citizen who qualifies for the job cannot be found.  That is how Khatri himself brought his brother over in 2006, who is now well settled with his family in his own house. “But I had never heard of any Nepali not paying 16 months salary to a fellow Nepali,” he added. Like other countries in Europe, Nepalis also try to come to Luxembourg on student visas by paying agents in Kathmandu up to Rs1.6 million. He warned Nepali youngsters not to get duped, since the cost of living is very high, and it is difficult to pay living costs and school fees by working. With the pandemic, there are also fewer jobs in the service industry. Most are now working on home delivery and take away.   After the interaction with the NRN, the restaurant owner’s mother and father pleaded with Shyam and his colleagues not to press charges against their son. In an audio recording of a telephone conversation that Nepali Times was provided, they can be heard apologising to Shyam about the way their son treated him.  Shyam then asks them why they did not speak up even though they knew that their son was abusing employees. The restaurant has remained closed since the four employees left and filed the complaint. Many Nepalis in Europe have said in interviews that they are not surprised by this story from Luxembourg. The practice of friends and relatives misusing the work permit in restaurants to engage in human trafficking is said to be rife.  But such is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepalis-lost-jobs-in-past-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">desperation of young Nepalis for jobs</a> that they are willing to risk all for a decent income to support families back home. Many of them tolerate the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-guard-beaten-in-malaysia-goes-viral/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">abuse and exploitation</a>, and are also not aware of their rights in European countries.  Service Info Traite, which supports victims of human trafficking in Luxembourg says that the investigation and judicial process could take up to three years. It says the restaurant owner using a bank account to get around labour laws to exploit his employees is not new.  Says Frank Wies, who is a lawyer with Luxembourg’s Human Rights Commission: “The police, the courts and the prosecution often lack the necessary sensitivity to recognise and treat human trafficking. I have often seen cases where victims are given a settlement and deported back to their countries.” That is not likely to happen with Shyam and his two colleagues who have work permits. But they have gone to the police in one of the world’s richest countries in the hope that justice will be served, and maybe set an example to other Nepali employers in Europe.   Some names have been changed. Luc Caregari of Reporter in Luxembourg collaborated in this investigation. This report is published simultaneously in English in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHtSVNSRWqbuFfj0xvYbhurabXE-A">Nepali Times</a>, in German in <a href="http://reporter.lu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://reporter.lu&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHmoJ1q5lxrWAGKSIqhvoLQ1ds7Yw">reporter.lu</a> and in Nepali by <a href="http://onlinekhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://onlinekhabar.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExFo0zvEqQtb7MfZDSAfMpQv1MvQ">onlinekhabar.com</a>._________________  <h2>Dark shadow of the European dream</h2> During my reporting trip to Europe in 2019, I visited many Nepali restaurants, interviewed their Nepali owners, and met with employees. I also met government officials and visited police departments. In Luxembourg, it was not easy to get information. After the initial chit chat restaurant workers suddenly went quiet when asked about their working conditions and seemed intimidated. Owners liked to highlight how they were helping fellow Nepalis attain their European dream. I soon found out that the reason was that many of them are victims of physical and mental torture, not aware of their labour rights in Europe because of lack of education or being unable to speak the local language. They trusted the employer who was often a relative or friend from back home.  It was in Luxembourg, the country where the Court of Justice of the European Union is situated, that migrant workers were facing some of the worst violations of their human rights at the hands of fellow Nepalis. Outwardly, the restaurants looked spic and span, the guests were all well-groomed, and seemed to be from the higher echelons of society. The Nepalis all said they were happy. But behind this veneer, I had a nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true.  Sure enough, after some digging, I found a similar story to what I had uncovered in Helsinki earlier. Together with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE_Bi1ton1z4xOyqLRgwTTz1UfqsQ">Helsingin Sanomat</a>, we at Nepali Times had covered the story on human trafficking of Nepali workers by a Nepali restaurant owner in 2019, after which the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEsSkybqU-hj0KgZBpma0xalqzAAg">Finnish government took action</a> on the perpetrator.  Like in Finland, some migrants who had entered Luxembourg legally were being abused and denied basic human rights, including the right to decent working hours and salary as per the labour laws of the country, right to safe housing and good food and the right to live with dignity.  The stories of Binod, Shyam, and their colleagues prove that there are Nepalis who themselves rose up the ranks to be restaurant owners who are now preying on vulnerable and desperate people from the home country.  There is no other label for this but human trafficking — anyone who is made to work in a different place than their home country without a fair salary, housing, food and health services are victims of human trafficking, even if they are not subject to physical, verbal, mental and sexual violence.  Shyam and Binod’s Nepali employer has all the legal paperwork for their contract and bank accounts. Still, they were exploited. It is now up to the authorities there to find out how such violations  could occur in a country which has such strict safeguards. <img width="97" height="103" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfddb9c7e80680e0a0c09jpeg.jpg" alt="">Namrata Sharma is former chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal. This article has been developed with the support of the <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="http://www.money-trail.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.money-trail.org&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHi58yJp7lYGXJm-u7RxXB37cRrBw">Money Trail Project</a>, <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="https://www.journalismfund.eu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.journalismfund.eu&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFgo-S83vRTW2_zljHaM5pvCj-uzg">Journalism Fund EU</a>, and <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="http://www.financeuncovered.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.financeuncovered.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5Rn24XIEKJ2NEdArVvblHbVcR1A">Finance Uncovered</a>.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/">In the minds of Nepal’s migrant workers</a>, Upasana Khadka<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/south-asias-migrants-shared-problems-share-solutions/">South Asia’s migrants share problems, share solutions</a>, Upasana Khadka

Nepalis abused by Nepalis in Luxembourg

Upasana Khadka

South Asia’s migrants share problems, share solutions

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

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

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

UFO over Pokhara

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

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

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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