<figure><img width="1780" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83769c7e80680e067738jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Tundikhel in 1921. Photo: Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya archive.</figcaption></figure>The tragic death tolls from two recent earthquakes in the Greater Himalaya should give Kathmandu residents pause. Kashmir, 2005: more than 73,000. Sichuan, 2008: over 88,000.In urban earthquake emergencies, few things are more critical than open space, but Kathmandu Valley has more people and less usable open space than ever before.A 2020 International Organisation for Migration (IOM) report warns that many of Kathmandu's crucial disaster evacuation spaces have been ‘reduced, encroached, transformed into non-usable areas or heavily built up’, and says the Valley will suffer ‘extreme difficulties’ in the next big earthquake.‘Open spaces have not been recognised as vital city infrastructures that can be of great significance during a disaster," the IOM report says. History has actually shown the importance of Kathmandu's open space time and again. <figure><img width="1800" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83799c7e80680e067739jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>1934In the afternoon of 15 January 1934, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/01/12/katmandu-was-a-ruin/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a 8.1 magnitude earthquake shook Nepal and north India</a>. The British surgeon Lt-Col C H Smith described that day's devastation:‘The city itself was a dreadful sight. At least one house in five had completely collapsed and very few seemed to have escaped uninjured...every hundred yards or so the narrow streets were blocked with piles of debris twenty feet high over which we had to climb.’ Residents, he noted, fled to Kathmandu's open spaces:‘The inhabitants were behaving splendidly; there seemed to be no panic. The people were all hurrying out of the narrow streets towards the various open squares with what goods and cattles they had been able to save, and were settling down in family groups in these open spaces preparing to pass the night as best they could.’The next day Smith found people ‘all collected in the various squares and open spaces. They were quiet and orderly, sitting in family groups cooking what food they had. They had no shelter, and must have spent a very unpleasant night, as there was a heavy ground frost.’Kathmandu was lucky in one respect, Smith said. Had the earthquake hit at night or early morning, when people are generally indoors, collapsing building would have taken many more lives.  <figure><img width="351" height="234" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b837c9c7e80680e06773ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="779" height="655" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b837d9c7e80680e06773bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Traditionally, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake/">Kathmandu residents use many types of open spaces</a>: streets, courtyards (bahal/ bahil), neighborhood squares (nani/chuka), palace squares, and open space at town periphery (khyo, buffer zone).These communal open spaces were used as living rooms and work spaces (not for motorcycle parking). The people dried grain, washed clothes, and looked after children at play. But during disasters, they turned to these spaces for safety and shelter. Open space created resilience.At the time, Kathmandu Valley had a tenth of today’s population. People had no problem finding open places to run to.The city's massive growth was decades in the future. Rani Pokhari, British journalist Perceval Landon noted in the 1920s, stood outside the city. The Ashoka Stupa loomed ‘a mile outside the city of Patan in the country’. Boudha sat ‘among the maize fields’. Budhanilkantha was a ‘long journey out’. Times have changed.In 1930, approximately 250,000 people lived in Kathmandu Valley. Today there are nearly 4,000,000 people. After almost a century of hurried, haphazard, rule-flaunting development, life-saving open spaces have been ignored and are now much harder to find.The IOM report reminds us: ‘Open spaces are taken for granted until the need arrives.’2015During the April 2015 Gorkha Earthquake, Valley residents once again turned to the city's open spaces. Thousands of families moved into large open spaces such as the Tundikhel. The parade ground also served as a debris management site. <figure><img width="457" height="270" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83809c7e80680e06773cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Similarly, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/parks-not-parking-lots/">Narayan Chaur</a> became a temporary home for 7,000 people. Five days after the first big quake, 33 open spaces provided refuge to almost 31,000 residents of Kathmandu from 5,500 households.City planners and local activists deserve applause for Narayan Chaur. One of the 83 emergency evacuation sites identified in 2013, it was developed to be multipurpose: as a green public park, a playground for children, and as an emergency shelter in disasters. It pioneered the use of Community Level Search and Rescue (CLSAR) Boxes, containing hammers, rope, saw and many more rescue materials.Open spaces like Tundikhel and Narayan Chaur brought neighbouring families together, saving lives and reviving community bonds. Kathmandu residents also relied upon open spaces as small as highway medians. After an earthquake, all open space counts. <figure><img width="780" height="266" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83829c7e80680e06773djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="430" height="305" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83849c7e80680e06773ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In 2013, government planners identified 83 open spaces for evacuation and refuge during disasters. According to the 2020 IOM report, only about half of these sites are actually usable in an emergency. New small buildings, storage areas, and infrastructure expansion have eaten into important space. Ten sites have been dropped from the list as they now serve other purposes. The report highlights other problems: an almost total lack of on-site water and sanitation facilities, unsuitable terrain, scarce local participation, especially of marginalised groups; low public awareness; and insufficient routine emergency drills. Some local governments did not even realise that spaces under their jurisdiction are designated earthquake evacuation sites.  We also need to plan for multiple hazards: earthquake and floods at the same time, or even simultaneous earthquake, flood, and pandemic. Nepal ranks eleventh and thirtieth worldwide in earthquake and flood vulnerability. This multiple hazard preparedness scenario is not impossible. After the 2015 earthquake, people in Bhaktapur's shelter camps had to flee the gushing Hanumante River. We often call earthquakes ‘natural’ disasters. Doing so allows governments and others to avoid blame. But the real cause of many disasters is not nature, it is poor human planning. Kathmandu Valley residents would do well to remember how they have relied up open space in the past and will need it again in the future. The World Health Organisation recommends 9 sq m of open space per person. Kathmandu has about 0.25 sq m per person. Lalitpur has only 0.06 sq m per person, with poorer people’s access even less. So, neighbourhoods with the least open spaces have to be prioritised. Regular drills are needed everywhere so people know where to go and what to do in a crisis. Says Anil Pokhrel of the National Risk Reduction and Management Authority, “Nepal is one of the fastest urbanising countries in the world, and 2015 was an eye opener. Government had done some work, but it really showed us the meaning of open space.” He stresses the importance of gardens and parking areas, not just the 83 designated open spaces in the Valley. “We need spaces closer to home,” he adds. “We have serious threats to urban space, such as construction and encroachments, but we also have communities like Thimi that are protecting and restoring ponds and cultural heritage as open spaces for emergencies.” Pokhrel says the aftermath of the earthquake six years ago showed how crucial water and toilets are for families. He adds, "Our message to every local government is this: work disaster planning into everything you do." <figure><img width="400" height="270" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83869c7e80680e06773fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="402" height="307" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83879c7e80680e067740jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nilima Thapa Shrestha is an architect and urban planner focused on urban ecological planning and DRR.Tom Robertson, PhD, is an environmental historian who writes about Kathmandu and Nepali history.

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Kathmandu loses its open spaces

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151120/636a663d9c7e80680e05996ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1312"/><figcaption>illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>The earthquakes of April 2015 literally shook all of us out of our complacency, and forced us to understand the value of open spaces -- just as after the 1934 earthquake, when tens of thousands of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/leaving-tundhikhel-shelter-camps,2447">Kathmandu residents moved to the open grounds at Tundikhel</a>, or to Lagankhel in Patan.But memories of disasters are short-lived, and in the past five years instead of protecting the last remaining spaces in Kathmandu Valley, we have allowed them to be encroached upon. At the heart of Kathmandu, Tundikhel represents in a microcosm what is happening across urban Nepal as people move into the cities and real estate prices soar.The land mafia, with its political protection, has infiltrated school management committees and taken over most school playgrounds located on prime real estate. The government created a green belt on the Ring Road -- now it is busy chopping down the last remaining jacarandas. The vehicle lobby is obviously stronger than the tree lobby.This newspaper has been <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5876#.Xe8odIMza70">covering the shrinking Tundikhel since 2002</a>, and for the first time printed maps showing the army’s steady encroachment into the open space. Since the government seems to be too slow to act, it is the public and communities that need to be vigilant -- which is why the current #OccupyTundikhel campaign is so important.One good way to begin protecting open spaces like Tundikhel would be to have every local government across the country make an inventory of such spaces in its jurisdiction. These should then be added to a national open space protected list, and legislation passed to ensure no one who eyes them can actually get their hands on these invaluable areas.Former Patan mayor Buddhi Raj Bajracharya set a good example by protecting community spaces during his tenure. A national database could be created and made available online so that no one dares to buy, sell or encroach on these open spaces.Rituals and festivals can be important reasons to save many of the Kathmandu Valley’s open spaces from encroachment.  Tundikhel hosts annual festivals like the feeding of the Gurumapa, Ghoda Jatra, Shivaratri and, more recently, the New Year’s Day showcase of numerous ethnic groups from across Nepal.A published calendar of such events could help enhance the feeling of ownership of open spaces across the country. Disaster preparedness drills in places like Tundikhel could also be pencilled in as regular events.Nepal’s stellar performance in the South Asian Games 2019 could be another reason to invest in saving open spaces. Tundikhel can be dedicated to all future Nepali gold medallists at the Olympics, World Cups and Asian Games. Names of all those who win medals for Nepal could be inscribed on a special monument. With only temporary structures allowed, sports could provide an effective incentive to care for these spaces.At a time when many Nepalis believe the way to prosperity is not education or enterprise but politics, open spaces could be protected as places where Nepalis gather and practise free speech. The name Khula Manch, which means ‘open stage’, has always held a Hyde Park connotation in Kathmandu, even during the days of absolute monarchy. It is a place where anyone can say anything and not face prosecution of any kind. The country should designate Khulla Manch(s) in all 753 municipalities, inspired by the first one at Tundikhel.The oral tradition of the Kathmandu Valley tells us that Tundikhel (Tinkhya) was land bought by wealthy Lhasa traders who needed space to unload and load goods and as a camping ground for porters and pack animals. After the Sugauli treaty of 1816, Muktiyar Bhimsen Thapa used Tundikhel to parade the Nepal Army, in a bid to impress the British of the country’s military might.This great open space has shrunk over time. Rana rulers built Bir Hospital and the military hospital and the Panchayat leaders constructed the post office, the RNAC building, NEA and City Hall. These were all within the boundaries of greater Tundikhel. The road around it was widened during the state visit of Queen Elizabeth II in 1962.From charging ground water to impressing the British envoy and from hosting ancient rituals to New Year’s Day celebrations, Tundikhel has served us well. The temporary bus terminal and school have to be moved immediately and the army has to return to the people what rightfully belongs to them. After the next earthquake, let us not be forced to say: “I told you so.”And let us not listen to economists and finance experts who tell us we need to monetise everything. Not everything should be valued in cash. Let Tundikhel be what Tundikhel was. End of the debate.Anil Chitrakar is President of <a href="http://www.siddharthinc.com/">Siddharthinc</a>

Anil Chitrakar

Let Tundikhel be what Tundikhel was

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mvi-MdNBArAIt is 6AM on an overcast monsoon morning. Despite dark clouds threatening rain, people are already at Narayan Chaur, some jogging, others walking with umbrellas, a group is doing yoga on mats in the grass.The children are on swings and slides, and the elderly amble slowly along the stone paths.For a city known for its <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/wide-open-spaces-kathmandu" target="_blank" rel="noopener">congestion and lack of parks</a>, Narayan Chaur stands out as a model for urban renewal in which a community got together to restore an open space for public use.Spread over a hectare, in the heart of Kathmandu, and surrounded by new office towers, the Nandi Keshwor Garden (as it is officially called) provides an oasis of green amidst the concrete chaos surrounding it. Until five years ago, this was a smelly garbage dump, infested with drug dealers. It got to a point where people from the neighbourhood would not walk out after dark.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0519c7e80680e0359cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>GREEN REVIVAL: Narayan Chaur, officially known as Nandi Keshwor Bagaicha, is a green oasis of calm in the middle of grey Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The person most responsible for Naryan Chaur’s transformation is the artist and writer Narendra B Shrestha, who understood the cultural significance of the Nandi Keshwor temple. During the reign of Rana Bahadur Shah in the later 18th century, flowers from the garden where the park now stands used to be offered to the temple.One of the few people who helped Shrestha in his park rennovation project since the beginning was Prabighya Basnet. A forestry and environmental studies student, Basnet was appalled at the state of the historic site and consulted Shrestha about how to restore it. Basnet runs a farm and is the founder of Khali Khutta, a company which produces eco-friendly, all-natural products. She used her knowledge of trees and plants to start greening the periphery – and that effort grew into an initiative to reclaim the area.Also read: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/resurrecting-bagmati-the-river" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Resurrecting the river</a>, Oskar Frelin“We could do it because it was a community effort, and it is proof that it is possible to transform other such spaces in the Valley to make Kathmandu cleaner and greener,” says Basnet, who is now working to revive other open spaces that have become parking lots or garbage dumps.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0549c7e80680e0359cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some are already following the example of Narayan Chaur. The Vijay Park in Dhumbarahi is an initiative of The Vaidya Organisation which has transformed another garbage dump along the Dhobi Khola into a park. Along the Bagmati River numerous organisations have come together to turn the filthy banks into parks.Narendra B Shrestha agrees that the park would not have been possible without the Naxal-Narayan Chaur community and the community police being involved, and his initiative which brought together the entire community, proves that change is possible if there is will. “The government was not involved, it was the people coming together to restore the space, and to manage its maintenance,” he adds.Work on the restoration began in 2012 and took in factors like selection of tree species and disaster management preparedness, while ensuring that the drug pushers did not return.Architect Prabal Thapa was enlisted to design the park, and corporate figures like tourism entrepreneur Yogi Shakya chipped in with seed money. By 2013, the master plan was complete and presented to the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA), and the park was opened to the public a few months before the earthquake in April 2015.Fully equipped to cope with the disaster with safety boxes, six water recharge wells and solar lights, Narayan Chaur provided refuge for hundreds of people after the earthquake.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0579c7e80680e0359ccjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“People these days are focused on commercialising public areas, putting up high rises and not enough importance is paid to community open spaces, not just for recreation and aesthetics but also for safety in times of crisis,” Shrestha adds.Kathmandu’s rapid urbanisation without proper planning is a slow-moving disaster in itself. Protecting green spaces is therefore not only socially and environmentally necessary, but can also bring economic benefits. Land and rental prices have soared in Naxal after the Nandi Keshwor Park was opened.The park was handed over by the government to the community to maintain and manage, something quite rare in Nepal. Learning from Nandi Keshwor, the government has come up with a list of 83 other sites which can be turned into community parks and safe spaces during times of emergency.One of them is Tinkune, on the airport road, which has been an eyesore for more than 20 years. Narayan Chaur has shown how to go about it: stop waiting for the government to do something, get the community involved.Also Read: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5876#.W1Gta9UzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shrinking Tundikhel</a>, Hemlata Rai<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9101#.W1GtuNUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Godavari green</a>, Alok Tungbahamphey

Parks, not parking lots

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