<figure><img width="800" height="423" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12769c7e80680e0a98d7jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Children who have lost their lives in the pits and ditches left by contractors: (clockwise) Riya Bishwakarma, Sushil Layomagar, Aditya Layomagar, Jasmine Khatun, Suman Mahato, Anil Mahato, Karuna Bishwakarma, and Samma Khatun. All Photos: MUKESH POKHREL/HIMAL</figcaption></figure>Despite protests, defiant sand mining and quarry contractors have continued to leave large abandoned pits along Nepal’s rivers in which children drown by the dozens every year. There is no exact count of how many of the children who drown every monsoon lose their lives in the pits and ditches left by sand mining contractors because police only record these deaths as generalised '<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/death-by-drowning-on-the-rise/">deaths by drowning</a>’.In Dhanusa district alone, 206 children have drowned in the past two years – most of them were under 15 years and died while swimming in these water-filled sand mining pits.  Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Drawing a line in sand</a>, Bhrikuti Rai <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12789c7e80680e0a98d8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Sushil Layomagar, 12, of Birendra Bazar could not return to school after holidays in July 2019 because of heavy rains. He was sent out in the afternoon to graze goats, but fell into a 50m deep pit dug by a sand mining contractor, and drowned together with a friend.This was a doubly severe blow to his mother, Chhalimaya, whose husband Hari Bahadur had died in Saudi Arabia earlier that year. The contractor had extracted sand and gravel to build the Bharatpur-Srirampur road, but left the gaping hole that filled with water after the rains.There was a strong protest against the contractor. "We told them to stop digging, the children will fall into the ditch,” says Susil’s grandmother Madhumaya Layomagar. “But they shouted at us, saying that they owned the land and could do with it as they pleased."In the adjoining Sarlahi district the same year, Samma Khatun, 6, and Jasmine Khatun, 11, of Sarlahi drowned in a pit dug by a brick kiln. The two girls left home to play at noon, but when they did not return for two hours the parents started a frantic search. Jasmine's grandmother Jahira Khatun recalls, "They used to go to pick grapes, so we went to look over there. A while later, the brick kiln workers saw the children in the water and called us. They had already stopped breathing.”  <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d127c9c7e80680e0a98d9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is not just in the Tarai that children are drowning in abandoned sand pits. In Nuwakot, 12-year-old Binita Balami fell into a ditch left by illegal sand miners. Laxmi Tamang, 35, jumped into the pond to save her but also drowned. Last year, another 12-year-old boy drowned in similar circumstances by Nuwakot’s Likhu River. There have been many localised protests against contractors and calls for a ban on their activities, but both licensed and illegal businesses have local political patronage and have continued unabated. The rampant sand mining does not just pose a danger to children drowning, but also threatens bridges and other infrastructure.Residents of Naktjij in Dhanusa have repeatedly complained to the municipality office against illegal gravel extraction along the Aurahi River, which has led to many deaths of children. The practice continues. It was after protests against illegal sand mining on Aurahi River that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/drawing-a-line-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dilip Mahato</a> was beaten and then run over and killed by a tipper truck near his home in Sripur in January 2020. Mahato was a college student in India, and had been outraged by the dangerous pits that the contractors left near his home.  <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d127f9c7e80680e0a98dajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/trickledown-corruption,4176">Trickledown corruption</a>, Editorial<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/bulldozing-democracy-in-nepal,4184">Bulldozing democracy</a>, Om Astha RaiFollowing his murder, locals formed a struggle committee and waged a losing battle against the contractors. Dilip's father, Ramjivan Mahato, says the police sided with the owners of the Churiyamai Sand Processing Centre. The government’s rule on sand excavation prohibits sand and gravel mining within 2km of towns, and along rivers with a 1km radius of highways and bridges. The regulation requires contractors to level out ditches after mining so it does not collect water. The rules are blatantly ignored. Neither the national nor provincial governments have any data on how much sand, gravel and boulders are extracted from Nepal’s rivers and streams every year, but the Chure Tarai Madhes Conservation Committee estimates that more than 30 million cubic metres of riverine resources are collected annually nationwide. Only 20 out of 100 municipalities along the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/crushing-tale-of-Chure" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Chure Range</a> which are extracting sand and gravel actually had licenses, according to Prem Nath Poudel, a geologist at the Committee. He adds, "There has been far more excavation than we have allowed. Even within the 20 municipalities that have the approval.”The government is also seeing very little revenue in relation to the amount of excavation being done. The municipalities generally set a minimum price of Rs211 per cubic metre for the sand and gravel when inviting bids, which means the revenue for 30 million cubic metres should be Rs6.33 billion. “We are tired,” says Ramjivan. “When a child drowns and we lodge a complaint, excavation work stops for a day or two. But the digging soon resumes.”  <figure><img width="1200" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016110/636d12829c7e80680e0a98dbjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But according to the National Natural Resources and Finance Commission, the government collected only Rs4.62 billion in revenue from sand and gravel contractors in the current fiscal year despite one-third of municipalities across the country having signed contracts for excavation. It is clear that most of the mining is illegal, or are licensed in exchange for kickbacks.The business is being driven by a surge in construction across the country, which has raised the demand for building material. The trade is so lucrative that political party leaders, the local administration and police officials are all in on it. In the 2017 local level elections, 68 among the 616 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">elected persons</a> from 137 municipalities of Province 2 had affiliations with excavation contractors. Dev Prakash Tripathi is a journalist, who after seeing rampant illegal sand mining in his native Malekhu has become an activist with the 'Save Trisuli Campaign' in Dhading district. He says, “Leaders and people's representatives of all political parties have invested in the sand and gravel trade, which means their businesses are above the law.” Some big names linked to sand and quarry contractors are Krishna Lal Shrestha, chairman of Galchi Municipality of Dhading, Rajendra Pandey, leader of CPN (Unified Socialist), Bhumi Tripathi, and Salikram Jamarkattel, leader of CPN-Maoist Centre. Bishwa Aryal and Prabhat Kiran Subedi of the Nepali Congress have also been found directly or indirectly involved. A local government chief in Mahottari district, who did not want to be named, admitted that he would not be able to cover his election expenses unless he supported sand extraction. He says matter-of-factly, “I can’t sell my house to pay for the election. What’s wrong with selling sand and pebbles that are washed down by the rivers?” Such criminal callousness angers families like the Layomagars and Khatuns who have lost their children to drowning on sand pits, and to Ramjivan Mahato whose activist son was killed by lawless contractors in cahoots with local politicians.Here in Dhanusa, the excavators and tipper trucks of the Churiyamai Sand Processing Centre are back on the banks of the Aurahi River, digging up sand and gravel. The company is still threatening the Mahato family. Says Ramjivan: “They say we already killed one of your children, don’t make us kill another one.”Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/126355">original article</a> by Aryan Sitaula.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/">Kathmandu creeps up surrounding mountains</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel

original

610x380

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

Drowning in sorrow

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00ce9c7e80680e0a35f9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Kathmandu Valley's only landfill site Sisdole has reached its maximum capacity. All photos: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s capital stank for more than a fortnight before Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) decided to resume garbage collection this week with the Department of Roads agreeing to repair the route to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-load-of-rubbish-kathmandus-garbage-problem,4039" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Sisdole landfill site</a>, 30km away.Kathmandu’s only landfill Sisdole has already reached its maximum capacity, and every monsoon the rains damage the access road to the site with the locals having to navigate in knee-deep sludge. The overpowering stench from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/industrial-scale-litter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">heaps of garbage</a> is enough to make residents sick.“Our water sources have been contaminated and farms are infertile. The road leading up to here is in a sorry state and yet the concerned people pay no heed,” says Bimala Balami of Sisdole.“From sunrise to sunset that mountain of garbage is all we see, we inhale the bad smell more than we do oxygen,” she adds.This is echoed by her neighbour Sangita Balami: “The odour from the garbage dumped here is there all hours of every day, there is no respite, people are getting sick.”The residents started a protest when a 70-year-old woman died on 22 August, attributed to a possible <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/kathmandu-in-the-time-of-cholera/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cholera outbreak</a>. The local authorities brokered a deal with an agitating group obstructing the movement of vehicles with a 14-point agreement on Wednesday when the cholera suspicion was proven to be unfounded.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00d29c7e80680e0a35fajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00d59c7e80680e0a35fbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00d99c7e80680e0a35fcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00dc9c7e80680e0a35fdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The garbage trucks and containers are now on the move, but it will still take a week for the municipality to manage to lift litter off the streets. Some 15,000 tonnes of waste have been piled up in different parts of Kathmandu Valley because of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/recycle-reuse-reduce-garbage-kathmandu,1279" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lack of proper solid waste disposal</a> in the past two weeks.Stretched over 38 hectares, the Sisdole landfill is located on a gorge that is now not just full, but has grown into an enormous mountain of garbage. When it was first turned into a landfill site in 2006, the KMC proposed to use it only for three years but 17 years later, 75% of about 1,200 tonnes of daily <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-covid-19-plastic-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">waste generated in Kathmandu Valley</a> ends up here in Nuwakot.Under normal circumstances, up to 200 vehicles dump the waste in Sisdole daily, which is later pushed around the site by an excavator at a height of about 200 meters.“Back then the government had acquired our land for the site, we were promised jobs,” says Bimala Balami. “But they were distributed unfairly. Some people here receive annual grants from the government but others don’t even get a penny.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00e09c7e80680e0a35fejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00e39c7e80680e0a35ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00e79c7e80680e0a3600jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00ea9c7e80680e0a3601jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Rapid and unplanned growth coupled with poor municipal management has meant that <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Kathmandu-waste-management-problem-solution,1416" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu has always had a garbage problem</a>. Kathmandu needs another landfill site and the proposed alternative Banchare Dada, 1.9km west of Sisdole, has been under construction for years.The Ministry of Urban Development had signed a contract with Lumbini Koshi and Neupane JV in April 2019 to complete the work at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/what-will-nepal-do-with-its-e-waste/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Banchare Dada</a> within a year. The project will cost at least Rs346.8 million with the 91 hectare site estimated to be usable for 25 years. But more than two years later, the new landfill has no completion date in sight.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00ed9c7e80680e0a3602jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00f09c7e80680e0a3603jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00f49c7e80680e0a3604jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Exactly 50 years ago in 1971, the first international consultant on solid waste management had studied Kathmandu's waste management system and proposed a landfill site.In 1996, after a 15-years-long effort by the Germans to set up a waste management system in Kathmandu, a German fact-finding mission concluded that the problems relating to municipal waste management in Kathmandu are not technical in nature, and the <a href="http://www.martinchautari.org.np/files/SINHAS-Articles/SINHAS-Vol.1-No.2_Bhushan-Tuladhar.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">constraints to developing environmentally sound, cost-effective and sustainable solutions</a> are institutional, organisational and financial.Studies have shown that segregating waste would cut the volume of trash by half, since up to 70% of the daily collection is biodegradable. We know what the problem is, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/making-money-from-garbage-in-kathmandu,2055" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">we know what the solutions are</a>, but there is little political will to follow through.There has been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-entrepreneur-turns-trash-into-cash/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">interest from the private sector</a> to recycle the organic waste, plastic, metal and glass, and install an incineration plant to generate electricity from the rest, but the project got stuck in the bureaucracy with reports that officials demanded kickbacks.Says environmentalist Bhushan Tuladhar: “Kathmandu’s solid waste mismanagement is once again making headlines as it does every monsoon. Unfortunately, the main obstacles to a solution have remained the same for the past five decades.”

674x448

500x500

1250x600

1084x550

A load of rubbish

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26429c7e80680e043a06jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Lila Devi Funyal, President of Gyanjyoti Agriculture Multipurpose Cooperative at Fikure tends her coffee saplings for distribution.</figcaption></figure>“I’m shaken and rattled to the bone,” exclaims Ambica as we lurch uphill, the vehicles skidding on exposed stones and sliding off the deeply gouged ruts. The driver wrestles with the wheel of the sturdy Indian SUV, zigzagging our way up the tortuous mountain road. I hold on to the back of Ambica’s seat as we pitch and roll like a boat in heavy seas.Climbing higher out of the murky air, the dusty roadside foliage, bamboo stands and delicate ferns give way to thinning conifers, blue skies and views of jagged soaring scenery. Between the trees, layers of hazy hilltops recede to rocky ridges newly dusted with snow, and the occasional glimpse of a distant white peak. Across the Trisuli Valley we can follow the scar of the Pasang Lhamu Highway snaking its way to the Kerung-Rasuwa border through a vast hillside dotted with habitation, a silver thread of river far below.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26469c7e80680e043a07jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="132">Our band of bouncing and bruised Rotarians is visiting three thriving women’s cooperatives in remote <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/crumbling-history-nuwakot,3698" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nuwakot</a> villages, way off the beaten track even though within sight of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/bordering-on-helplessness" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Chinese border</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-reincarnation-of-a-holy-valley/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Langtang</a> tourist trails across the valley. Although we are in one of the worst earthquake affected areas, we see little sign of damage. The hillside villages are characterised by new one-story concrete houses pieced with metal rebar spikes waiting for the next floor. “Mexicans call them ‘fingers of hope’,” says Isabella, the minister’s wife.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26469c7e80680e043a08jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is nearly four years since the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/27/a-month-that-felt-like-a-year/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">earthquakes</a> rocked our existence in Nepal, and we all have our own personal stories seared into our memories. Mine involve running barefoot onto my house lawn, hanging onto a garden chair for stability as terracotta tiles rain off the roof, my little red car buffeting back and forth in the driveway, and in the distance an unnatural pall of dust rising eerily to obscure the Valley floor. Most of us were lucky, but an unexpected rumble still startles, evoking the roar of that terrible great shake.The countryside narrative is different. No amount of sterile statistics or dry data reporting the extent of devastation in Nepal’s central middle hills can prepare us for the reality of suffering on the ground. This is why we are here. With most men gone to labour overseas, the <a href="https://www.bpwnepal.org.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Federation of Business and Professional Women of Nepal</a> (BPWN) led by the indomitable Ambica Shrestha and her team, with donations from our Rotary Mid-Town, have been assisting these courageous lady farmers to diversify and rebuild their lives. Organic vegetables and the introduction of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Nepali-specialty-coffee,4106" target="_blank" rel="noopener">mountain coffee</a>, a new commodity for Nepal’s hill regions, are supplementing the traditional crops of subsistence agriculture and helping recovery after the disaster.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a264a9c7e80680e043a09jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>We sit on plastic chairs as the deputy mayor Maya Devi Neupane, a red woollen scarf wrapped around her dark head, explains that 90% of the Kahule village houses were damaged. These industrious people have cleared and shovelled and toiled and saved, managing to reconstruct and restore their <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/genuine-earthquake-survivors-missing-from-housing-grant-list%20,3498">shattered homes</a>. Other than a few cracked walls, only a tangled heap of concrete slabs and rubble catch our attention as being obvious <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/earth-bricks-for-cleaner-and-healthier-kathmandu,4161">earthquake destruction</a> remaining unattended – we are told it was the new Fikure police post, inaugurated only the day before the worst tremor. “I tried to shelter there, thinking it would be the safest place,” smiles Lila Devi Funyal. “But I got out in time.”Maya Devi’s rare qualities first came to Ambica’s notice when she refused a gift of 80 emergency relief packages in May 2015. “I can’t accept these,” the soft-spoken but steely leader told a puzzled Ambica. “I have 100 families in my village and it is too difficult and not fair if I return with only 80 parcels to distribute.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a264d9c7e80680e043a0ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="2000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Putting their heads together as how best to help, Maya Devi came up with the concept of high value, organic, mountain Arabica <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Bean-there,271" target="_blank" rel="noopener">coffee</a>, just a few trees per family. She requested Ambica for training on how to cultivate and process the coffee fruit, a tree that requires little water, offers annual yields without replanting, and grows on unused edges of terraces and fields. Only by combined effort and some outside assistance would it make economic sense for these semi-literate ladies to take such a risky step towards a brighter future.An enterprising neighbour had planted the idea years ago, a shy farmer Chetra Bahadur Tamang, who had never seen a coffee tree or tasted a fresh brewed cup but was convinced by an informative Radio Nepal broadcast that this was the cash crop for his community. He walked to Kathmandu to purchase a hundred seedlings, but was disappointed by the bitter, unpalatable concoction that the bushes eventually yielded. “Not understanding how to harvest or process, I was so disillusioned that I even chopped down some of the coffee trees,” he confesses, crossing his slender ankles.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26509c7e80680e043a0bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Swathed in thick jackets, sensible shoes,and welcome garlands our small delegation trudge through the enthusiastic coffee villages, observe the ‘cherry’ sorting, pulping and composting, inspect 'parchment' drying on rooftops, and admire nurseries of thriving saplings in homemade greenhouses. We are briefed on market linkages for the unroasted beans, and savour organic fruit and vegetable produce grown by the same innovative women’s groups.Driving home through <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/05/10/new-korean-prez-visited-nepal/">Nuwakot</a>’s capital, Bidur, last week at the end of a long day, diggers, trucks and bulldozers were plying the border highway, shaping culverts, gabion cages and road surfaces. The Trisuli riverbed is rapaciously mined for gravel and sand. Our vehicle is heavy with gifts in appreciation of Ambica’s work: fragrant cauliflowers, onions, yams and huge cabbages, the soil still clinging to their stalks. As we crest the Kathmandu Valley rim we are greeted with an ocean of glittering lights. The city roads are rough and pitted with no sign of that rural diligence, but perhaps one day our capital's cappuccinos will be made with organic mountain coffee from Nuwakot.

Lisa Choegyal

Four years later, Nepal's farmers rise from the rubble

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

Turkish Basketball

In the black and white photograph, General Wangdu smiles broadly in front of the dusty cactus garden in Kathmandu’s Annapurna Hotel. With an ill-fitting jacket and shaggy hair he looks benign enough, but this was the last leader of the Tibetan freedom fighters who led the resistance against the Chinese from their remote mountain hideouts in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Mustang</a>. Five months later, Wangdu was dead. Snapped in March 1974, I had only recently arrived in Nepal. How did I meet this legendary fighter? Possibly with his devoted camp follower, Lynne Klapecki, and probably in the Om Restaurant near Freak Street which was the preferred <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hippie-trail-nostalgia-in-kathmandu">hippie hang-out</a>. Om Lobsang and his brother Yeshe were <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/earthquake-brings-back-memories-of-camps-for-tibetan-refugees">refugees from East Tibet </a>whose cafe offered a friendly welcome and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/momo-loco"> the best momos</a> - they became my in-laws after I married their eldest brother Tenzin, but that was a decade later.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1583" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption> </figure>  Wangdu’s English was enthusiastically rudimentary, but even riding around town with him on the back of an aging <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-new-motorbike-museum">motorbike</a>, he was a commanding presence. Always flanked by armed outriders, impressive scars marked his forearms and a pistol hung from the cord around his neck. A charismatic guerrilla leader, Wangdu was celebrated by his followers for his tough commitment and respected for his measured pragmatism. He seemed so young to have shouldered such a responsibility of command, leading hundreds of hardened <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/50-years-after-the%20raid-into-Tibet,1012#google_vignette">Khampa combatants </a>through what had been a particularly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/heavy-snowfall-over-nepal-himalaya">brutal winter in Mustang</a>, the last bastion to hold out against the Chinese invasion of their Tibetan homeland.&nbsp; The freedom fighters of Tibet, known as the Chushi-Gangdruk, had emerged to resist the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/territorialism">Chinese takeover</a> of Tibet during the 1950s. Estimated to be 80,000-strong at the time of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-or-who-after-the-dalai-lama">the Dalai Lama</a>’s final escape to India in 1959, the sheer number of Chinese deployed into Tibet eventually forced the Chushi-Gangdruk to retreat to Mustang, From this high Himalayan stronghold, they continued cross-border raids on the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) throughout the 1960s.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="676" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Guerrillas known as the Chushi-Gangdruk emerged to resist the Chinese annexation of Tibet during the 1950s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>  Their Kathmandu base was a small discreet lodge in a back lane near Rani Pokhari. Sipping sweet tea from a blue mug with a chipped lid, I sat bemused in a corner of the Mustang Hotel room whilst Wangdu and his cohorts received a battered brown suitcase from their CIA connection, a tousle-haired American in a leather jacket. Heaved onto the dingy bedspread that covered the thin mattress, it was clicked open to reveal piles of neatly stacked dollar bills.&nbsp; I cannot think why Wangdu allowed me to witness this handover but I was clearly no threat, a newly arrived world traveller with no understanding of the stakes nor any Nepali or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tibetan-music-in-nepals-sacred-valley">Tibetan language</a>. Despite armed guards in the corridor,Wangdu radiated confidence and bravado, and there was a practiced familiarity to the tense transaction. This deadly dance for many years had been funded by the Americans, tolerated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-kingdom-within-a-republic">Mustang’s residents</a>, and permitted by King Mahendra and the Nepali authorities who it suited to turn a blind eye.&nbsp; But Mahendra died in 1972, and times were changing. Richard Nixon’s ping-pong diplomacy thawed the cold war and signalled a fresh entente with China. Nepal’s yet-to-be-crowned <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy">King Birendra </a>was under pressure to curb the irritating incursions against the PLA launched from the Nepali territory of Mustang. Keen to appease his northern neighbour, on several occasions the King summoned Wangdu for peace talks but, despite increasingly overwhelming odds, Wangdu refused to surrender.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1055" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>General Wangdu flanked by two Tibetan resistance fighters in Mustang in the 1970s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1044" height="792" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>King Birendra with General Wangdu (right in dark glasses) taken in 1974 possibly in Mustang after one of their few attempts at negotiation. Photo courtesy: RAJRNDRA KUNWAR</figcaption> </figure>  While I naively rode pillion around Kathmandu in the spring sunshine, Wangdu was in the midst of what turned out to be his final round of negotiations with the Nepal government. Refusing to cease hostilities with the Chinese, Wangdu must have suspected the cost of his decision, making his cheerful smile in the photograph all the more poignant and brave. It was only much later that I appreciated the significance of the moment. Wangdu had been sent to replace the first resistance leader in Mustang, Baba Gen Yeshe, a much derided corrupt character who stole money meant for his troops and exploited fleeing refugees by seizing their treasures. Baba Gen Yeshe never forgave Wangdu,and sought revenge in May 1974 by betraying him and his commanders to the Nepal authorities. Renewed Chinese incursions from the north, active PLA collusion with the Nepali forces under the new King, and treachery from within the Chushi-Gangdrukranks combined to seal their fate.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="769" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>British television journalists George Patterson and Adrian Cowell embedded themselves with Khampa guerrillas and accompanied them from Tsum Valley on a cross border raid on a Chinese Army convoy in 1964. Photo: ESSAYS ON NEPAL / SAM COWAN</figcaption> </figure>  Mikel Dunham, renowned author of Buddha’s Warriors, writes: ‘It is possible that Wangdu was waiting for some cue from the Dalai Lama’s government-in-exile in Dharamsala, India. It is equally possible – during that last, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-human-cost-of-nepal-s-yarsa-gold-rush?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR31-Cqw8oyIwMPzf_35e4Skr0ululJvLf3_vDkzHn-AYG2h8uPw2rqqErg_aem_tGVn5coY1-jA7fze_xqhew">desolate winter </a>– that he made the decision to go out in glory rather than admit defeat. Over the last fifteen years, Wangdu had experienced Tibet’s organized resistance being squeezed and shoved around by every conceivable outside force.&nbsp; First they had been pushed out of their own country by the PLA; then they had been refused sanction while on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/nepal-india-trans-boundary-bonds?fbclid=IwAR0PpJ5zUEbwdug3g_U3ar6FUugngRY0S8Tl2v_7wqzrsHmXWcXsKjvL4t4">Indian soil</a>; then they were abandoned by the Americans because, apparently, Nixon wanted to make friends with Wangdu’s mortal enemies, the communists; then they had been betrayed by the vampiric Baba Gen Yeshe – a Tibetan and, even worse, a fellow Khampa; and now, finally Wangdu’s army was being evicted by the Nepalis. One thing was certain: Wangdu was a warrior. To imagine Wangdu simply giving up and settling down in the pacific squalor of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp">refugee camp </a>was unthinkable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="746" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>The much derided Baba Gen Yeshe, the first Tibetan resistance leader in Mustang, who betrayed Wangdu for personal gain. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="656" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Aditya SJB Rana of the Royal Nepal Army whose team ambushed Wangdu and his cohorts at the top of Tinker Pass in Darchula, West Nepal. Photo courtesy: GAUTAM SJB RANA</figcaption> </figure>  By August 1974 the game was up. Wangdu and six of his exhausted party were killed on their horses by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7270">the Royal Nepal Army</a> on the brink of escape. The officer in charge, Aditya SJB Rana, cleverly predicted their route into India after they failed to silence a police radio in Yari. A carefully laid ambush trapped them near the summit of the Tinker Pass in Darchula,at 5,000 meters the highest military operation of its time. Wangdu’s body was helicoptered to Kathmandu, and a big show made of the royal Nepal victory.&nbsp; The Tibetan armed insurgency against China had reached its end.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_23" data-image-id="20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> </figure>

The Last Days of the Khampa

Starting 17 September Turkish Airlines will fly daily to Seville, one of Spain’s major tourist draws. This is Turkish’s sixth destination in Spain after Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, Malaga, and Bilbao. Seville is in the Andalusia region on Spain’s south coast with a rich Moor history. There are approximately 30,000 Nepalis living in Spain.&nbsp;

Turkish to Seville

The newly-formed Himalayan Art Council is set to launch Nepal’s National Art Protection Platform that seeks to preserve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage">Nepal’s unique cultural heritage </a>using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/artificial-censorship"> AI-powered tools</a>. The Council seeks to safeguard <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-art-going-places">Nepali art works</a> from neglect, theft and counterfeiting as well as preserve existing artwork and celebrate living masters by giving them a cultural space to continue the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/sacred-survival">sacred art traditions</a>. "We are introducing a new digital platform designed to preserve, verify and elevate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-new-generation-of-alternative-artists">Nepal’s art for generations to come,</a>” says a statement from the Council, adding that the digital platform will use AI told for authentication and blockchain to keep track of works of art. Artists can now be protected by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/ayo-ai?fbclid=IwAR1uwmTVq4gUB70ljfRezjzukD9ArWXPuMnUikopeQ8PoiZMjicToPSwhKE&amp;=1">AI tools</a> that detect forgeries, identify their work even when unsigned, and ensure they receive proper recognition and credit. The archives will be searchable with translated inscription and interactive guides. Says curator Meena Lama: “AI and blockchains are tools that give us the power to detect fakes and identify unsigned paintings and track every piece. With these tools we can restore trust, secure authorship and give artists the dignity they deserve.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250514170544_2ab58f6313c0458f75114a692b0016bd9efb3b59d5f8f07f0da72e1e37b82f53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250514170544_2ab58f6313c0458f75114a692b0016bd9efb3b59d5f8f07f0da72e1e37b82f53" data-rendition-name="original" width="1300" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Artwork at the Traditional Art Exhibition at Patan Museum."> <figcaption>Artwork at the Traditional Art Exhibition at Patan Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  The Council is also holding an exhibition of Nepali cultural masterpieces with 50 historical <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-the-art,671">thangka and paubha </a>by past masters and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">contemporary works by current artists</a>. This curated collection is a living tribute to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">Himalayan culture</a> with economic depictions of deities, mandala and sacred narratives. The exhibition at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present">Patan Museum</a> also provides an opportunity to meet painters and custodians of art and culture. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/golden-deities">Golden deities</a>, Sewa Bhattarai ‘The exhibition is only the first step in a long journey to ensure that Nepali art is no just seen but fully understood, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Narratives-of-Faith-and-Memory-Remembering-the-Lost-Sculptures-of-Kathmandu-exhibition,987">protected and remembered</a>,’ the Council says. Artist Kailash K Shrestha of Artudio has spent decades promoting thankha and paubha traditions because of their beauty and devotional meaning. But he also says artists are underpaid, exploited and ignored. He adds, “AI and blockchain are not just buzzwords, they are powerful tools that can protect Nepal’s artists from fraud, verify authenticity and build a permanent record of provenance.” Traditional Art Exhibition Till 17 May Patan Museum