&nbsp;This is the 53rdedition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. I was the first migrant to the Gulf from my village of Chagariya of Dhanusha district. We had heard of people who had gone to Saudi Arabia from neighbouring villages and done well for themselves.&nbsp; There were five children to feed and raise, and we did not have much land. Foreign employment seemed like a good choice. After I left in 1992, many others from my village also became migrant workers, including relatives. I have vivid memories of the day I left home. The whole village showed up to drop me off at the bus station. It was like a wedding. My family members wept, they did not know if I would come back alive. There was so much uncertainty. Nowadays migrating has become so common that people come and go without anyone knowing.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_c15bcbb869d4335ebf5c6bc91ae754982453df2e180299b03eb3f198f8c7c327.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024112410118_c15bcbb869d4335ebf5c6bc91ae754982453df2e180299b03eb3f198f8c7c327" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Ram Dhani Yadav with his family.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113110_19fd8eadc8fe5ea082dc8ad899dd19643daca0bc7638c1db6e7175a56b56e9dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024112113110_19fd8eadc8fe5ea082dc8ad899dd19643daca0bc7638c1db6e7175a56b56e9dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1768" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> </figure>  Getting on the plane was scary. I had a window seat and the flight attendant helped us with our seat belts and offered us food. I chose the vegetarian meal, and even though they offered beer, I stuck to Dew. Someone from the company was waiting for us at Dammam airport. And the heat! It burnt all the hair on my head. It was impossible without AC. But even in Nepal the heat is suffocating now, and it is hard working on the farm. Seems like we imported not just money, but also the heat from Saudi Arabia. After a couple of months as a labourer, I lost interest in the work. Luckily, I got a job as a company barber since I had experience. I cut the hair of fellow workers from Nepal, India, Pakistan, Korea and the Philippines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_e8c60f57bd767053f067400da4fcf76514662d4bd418a011b72a30356a3633d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024112410118_e8c60f57bd767053f067400da4fcf76514662d4bd418a011b72a30356a3633d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Barbers' tools that Yadav used after he got a job as a company barber in Saudi Arabia.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_ff2a87da06735fa254b9a10e35fa5163527fbe939421b875150dd02b9adde17c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024112410118_ff2a87da06735fa254b9a10e35fa5163527fbe939421b875150dd02b9adde17c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Yadav with the mirrior he used for his side-job as a barber.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;The workers did not have to pay, but if they liked it they gave me handsome tips, fruit juice or even a crate of canned Pepsi. I chatted in Hindi with the Indians and Pakistanis. Those working in scaffolding, welding or drivers earned more and tipped better. Low paid workers left less tips, but I did not mind. I worked in the company’s hair salon which had a fancy revolving chair and big mirror. For off hours and holidays, I had my own makeshift barber corner in camp as my side hustle. I bought my own mirror, hung it on a rod and my clients sat on a stool. I would also drop by one of the salons in the market to earn some extra cash on our days off. Times were different back then. There were no mobiles and my wife had to travel a long way to receive calls on a CDMA phone from Ram Dayal’s shop at a pre-arranged date and time. The calls were brief because they were expensive.&nbsp; We had more detailed communications through cassette tapes that we sent each other. Whenever I felt homesick, I listened to the voices of my wife and children over and over again – especially the girls who were always loud and chirpy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113110_d91691006f5ab08532b5a2e76e737c2dfd9edcff175bd5617f9053a4269f17ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024112113110_d91691006f5ab08532b5a2e76e737c2dfd9edcff175bd5617f9053a4269f17ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="2056" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>This is the cassette tape case Yadav had sent home from Saudi Arabia over three decades ago. His handwriting reads: Sender: Ram Dhani Yadav, Saudi Arab (Dammam) Receiver: Sita Devi Yadav, Ward No 3, Chagariya, Nepal </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113114_86cc0ffc1a1df040656a31f8876f2d48cc50b6f1f96b4ee8840c2174fce45c98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024112113114_86cc0ffc1a1df040656a31f8876f2d48cc50b6f1f96b4ee8840c2174fce45c98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1791" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> </figure>  When I missed my family, I would play the tapes on a Sony that I bought for 60 riyal. When I was alone in my camp dorm, I would record whatever I wanted to tell my family, replay the recording and if it was good enough, I sent it to Nepal with some cash, wrapping it all in layers of cellotape. Every night before going to sleep, I would re-listen to the voices of my family. I kept the player close to my ears at a very low volume as I shared the room with four or five others. Even hearing about mundane everyday things from the village over and over again in the voices of my wife and daughters filled me with joy after work. One day, someone from management said I had a call from Nepal. It was news of my youngest son’s death, and that was a painful moment. He was just 18 months old. In a tape that followed, my family filled in the details: he had died of measles. I responded by recording my own feelings on tape and consoled them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112410118_9e698ea6b9c7d9806444eed194df1227249003ba5b8644557ebdcef549e7263e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024112410118_9e698ea6b9c7d9806444eed194df1227249003ba5b8644557ebdcef549e7263e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>Yadav now talks to his son, who is also overseas for work, through video calls on his mobile phone.</figcaption> </figure>  My company offered to send me home on mourning break for a month. What was the point? My son was already gone, so I could not bring him back. Instead, I grieved on my own in Saudi Arabia before I resumed work. The company was kind enough to pay me my basic wages. During my time overseas, I came home thrice. When I left for Saudi Arabia after my third vacation home, I wept as my mother was in poor health and paralysed. I just could not stay away, so three weeks later I returned to Nepal on a one-way ticket. I brought back my barbershop mirror, and it still hangs on my wall. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FDXX3kPW42oc%3Fsi%3DolveYQBO4UYjBKl&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

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"The first migrant worker from my village"

This is the 40th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Sanaya is the industrial area of Doha, and is home to the majority of foreign workers in Qatar. But for me, it was in the desert in Al-Shahaniya where I lived for seven years since 2009 training race camels.&nbsp; My days used to start at 3AM, and I made sure the camels were well-fed, hydrated, and prepared for race day with exercises, including walks and runs at various speeds and lengths.&nbsp; During practice race days I rode a non-race camel in between two race camels to guide and train them. Known as galaisha, these were well-trained, retired race camels that had never won in competitions during their glory days.&nbsp; When we were practicing for a race, my employer would drive in parallel outside the track, instructing me to slow down or go faster depending on the camel’s endurance. The robot jockey would be charged overnight, placed on the camel’s back and the employer spoke to it through the speakers in the jockey. He even used the automated whip if necessary when the camel wasn’t paying attention, or to urge him to go faster.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/amit-and-tilak">Amik and Tilak</a>, Tilak Bahadur Tamang and Amik Singh Lama The intensity and passion for this sport and what it meant to his family both financially and prestige-wise was evident in his voice as the robot blared “ghap, ghap” through the speakers. My employer owned 15 camels, and I was attached to all of them. But one race camel, Riyaj, stood out. He was special, an underdog. &nbsp;I once left Riyaj at the starting point of a 4-km race in Qatar. There were 40-50 other camels. The trainers honked and cheered from the vehicles with “ghap, ghap” on speakers.&nbsp; Listening to the live and animated commentary on the radio, I overheard a Sudanese person telling his friend that Riyaj was leading. I could not believe it, and my heart pounded with excitement. A wrap with the number one was placed on Riyaj’s back, and the judges put saffron all over him as part of the celebration. Everyone wished each other “mobarak” although we still had to wait for lab tests to ensure no performance enhancement drugs were used. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-nurses-gone-and-going-to-the-uk">Nepali nurses gone and going to the UK</a>, Nepali Times  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230811190848_15388417d3f33dc5bdbdf9caef4c89ad1a56ec8d97c00a152616478cc61ee1ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230811190848_15388417d3f33dc5bdbdf9caef4c89ad1a56ec8d97c00a152616478cc61ee1ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="839" loading="lazy" alt="DD 40"> <figcaption>Mohan Pandey with a trophy after the win.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;When Riyaj won, nothing else mattered to me momentarily. Not the struggles I had gone through, not my status in a foreign country, not the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All that mattered was that Riyaj had won and with it, I too felt like a winner.&nbsp; My bosses, his family members and friends, clapped my back and hugged me, and I was a hero among other workers from Rajasthan, Pakistan and Sudan with their own camels. Today was Riyaj’s turn to win. It was my day.&nbsp; Baba, my employer, could not be prouder. I was given 5000 riyal (Rs190,000) as baksheesh. This was a lot of money for me, although it was peanuts compared to the prize money which ran into millions.&nbsp; This win also changed my status in Qatar, as I won the trust and dare I say, respect, for my skills in training the camels. Baba started relying on me for all things related to his camels, he wanted my input and involvement. Who could have said that someone like me who was afraid of camels when I first arrived in Qatar would one day be a natural with them? It was not a hobby or passion that brought me to camel racetracks. Nor did I have any natural inclination towards camel rearing like colleagues from Rajasthan or Sudan. Actually, it was the only job I could get.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan Perhaps life would have never brought me to Qatar to take care of camels had my father, a garment worker in UAE, not met with an accident and returned to Nepal for good. Till then, our family was faring just fine. His return and inability to provide for us forced me to grow up.&nbsp; Had my father continued working normally, I would have completed my studies in Nepal. I see glimpses of what my life could have been like from where my friends are today, earning handsome salaries in Kathmandu.&nbsp; I first went to India to help my cousin who was a truck driver in India. My body could not take the heat and pressure of the job, and I fell sick. My cousin found me a job as a domestic worker.&nbsp; “Chotu, do this. Chotu, do that.” That is how my days passed for 350 Indian rupees a month, running around the house trying to be helpful. I used to send money home occasionally and when I went home for my first vacation, I took with me a pickle jar and Rs2,600 to hand over to my mom.&nbsp; Moving to India at an early age had changed me. I spoke with a Hindi accent, and my mother used to laugh at my “haaji” whenever she called out my name. My father was also in India, but he had a tendency to disappear for years and show up randomly without any money. We heard he was in Goa. The accident in the UAE had taken a mental toll on him and he was never the same again. From a family that was doing okay for ourselves, we had lost more than my father’s stable earnings.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/">Power of workers working together</a>, Madhusudhan Ojha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230811190848_b280af6b55caee9518ef425cfa932d40304533e919329217cf4c53b75571c759.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230811190848_b280af6b55caee9518ef425cfa932d40304533e919329217cf4c53b75571c759" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="827" loading="lazy" alt="DD 40"> <figcaption>Pandey is now in Nepal and his recent venture as vegetable seller has been mostly profitable.</figcaption> </figure>  After working as a helper in several houses, I found a job at a gym where a customer later poached me to work in his electric company. The highlight of my job at the gym was serving sandwiches to Bollywood stars Hritik Roshan, Saif Ali Khan, Ajay Devgand and Isha Deol who were at the opening ceremony of the Barbarian Power Gym. I wish I had that moment captured on camera.&nbsp; I knew that for real progress, I had to go to the Gulf. An acquaintance arranged a visa for me for Qatar and I only found out later that it was to race camels. &nbsp; I had no idea how to take care of camels that were much taller and stronger than me. The heat in the desert was also unbearable. And I did not speak any Arabic. Everything was so unfamiliar that I considered quitting right away. But I had already paid recruitment fees to get there, and leaving was not an option. Slowly, I started understanding these unfamiliar creatures, and learnt the tricks of the trade. I started feeling more comfortable with the animals, and they with me. &nbsp; While other camels could eat however much they wanted, I had to be careful about how much I fed the racing ones. It could neither be too much nor too little and had to be timed well so they were at peak performance on race day. We fed milk and ghee to the race camels.&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 Our camels usually came third or fourth and even 15th in the races. Such losses ended with “Insallah”, hoping for a win the next time. Except when Riyaj won. On that day, all barriers came down with my employer’s family, as we celebrated. I still smile fondly when I think of that time.&nbsp; I came to Qatar completely unfamiliar and unprepared, but left knowing all there was to know about camels. The only problem was that those skills were useless in Nepal, where there are no camels. I also picked up Arabic, which is not much needed in Nepal. My employer did not want me to leave, but I left assuring him that if I ever were to re-emigrate, it would be back to take care of his camels. In school, I was a bright student but did not get to study after my father's accident, and I had to earn to ensure that my siblings could continue their studies. Indeed, my brother is now in Japan and works in IT.&nbsp; Back in Nepal, I had to start from scratch and life has not been easy. I tried my luck in marketing, being a butcher, I ran a canteen, dabbled in real estate, learnt driving, and unsuccessfully attempted to re-emigrate.&nbsp; My latest venture as a vegetable seller has worked out. The earnings are enough to cover household expenses, and some losses are manageable. I want to ensure a comfortable life for my wife and daughter. But it is not easy even after all these years and experience, just like it was not easy when I went to India to find work as a 13-year old. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Dhumbharahi vegetable shop that I run was submerged in this week's flood in Kathmandu, highlighting my move from a place with no water to too much water. 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 Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Nepali bonds with racing camel in Qatar

This 36th instalment of Diaspora Diaries. When I first went to the UAE in 1992, it was for two years. I ended up staying away for over three decades working for the Dubai Port Authority (DPA). After crossing 55, the retirement age for foreigners, I left in 2022. By then, I had spent more time in the UAE than in Nepal. Somewhere along the way, Dubai started feeling more like home. I used to be sad leaving Nepal after a vacation, but later started feeling like I was returning home when I boarded a Dubai-bound flight. I cannot pinpoint when that switch happened. I suppose whether in Nepal or the UAE I had to work and earn, and job prospects were better there. Vast improvements in mobile connectivity during the past three decades also helped to ease the burden of being away. As my salary increased and I gained more responsibility in my job, so did my aspirations and what I wanted for my family. When you start earning, even the nature of your dreams evolve. Whether they come true or not is a different matter, but even to dare to dream, you need to have something in your pocket. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-saudi-to-sauji">From Saudi to Sauji</a>, Rudra Bahadur Sapkota  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_def77ef286e03c3569b5cab9bf3fbfc5633cf4e61b700c1f87fd189d7c7d7d75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230707210756_def77ef286e03c3569b5cab9bf3fbfc5633cf4e61b700c1f87fd189d7c7d7d75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  I applied to go overseas in 1992 knowing nothing about Dubai. My attempt to find a book on Dubai in Asan failed. I had heard about “Arab”, not Dubai. I had to pay an agent Rs40,000 for the job, and did not have the money. So my mother sold her gold ornament. I would later find out that the employer had paid all my recruitment costs, and the agency had cheated me. I landed in Dubai at 1AM and my group was the manpower company's first international contract, and the manager also accompanied us. In 1992, the only tall building was the Dubai World Trade Center and seeing the city lights I was excited. But soon we were driving through the dark desert. The mailman used to come to camp with letters from home, and I remember rushing to him like children running after sweets. When I sent a letter to my family saying I am unwell, I would have recovered by the time it reached them. If my father did not receive my letter, he used to get angry and anxious. My father and I got closer through our letters and I became a better writer. I used to also dabble in songwriting. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tale-of-a-modern-day-lahure">Tale of a modern day lahure</a>, Uday Bahadur Baniya  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_951e0c4299985c5f01590b2d11f877ad630bb4a6d9416ebdab011fa150b8a8e8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230707210756_951e0c4299985c5f01590b2d11f877ad630bb4a6d9416ebdab011fa150b8a8e8" data-rendition-name="original" width="908" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  When we wanted to hear our family's voices, we headed to the phone booth with a plastic bag full of coins because it cost 9 dirhams per minute. We ran out of coins before we ran out of words to say, and left the booth with an empty feeling for the next impatient caller waiting in line. Getting to read something in Nepali meant so much then. There were no newspapers, but we used to even read the ads in the newspapers used to wrap things from home. Later, I subscribed to Kantipur and Saptahik. I had collected scores of books and magazines over the years. Sending money home was a problem as there were no money exchanges. Sometimes I sneaked some cash inside my letters, or relied on fellow Nepalis who were going home. Once, I saw a Nepali man wearing a dhaka topi on the street, and asked him to take some money to my family when he told me he was headed home. He did, although now in retrospect, I cannot believe that I was so trusting. There were so few Nepalis in the UAE in those days that any Nepali you met instantly became family. When we heard that new Nepali workers had arrived, we even reserved a car to go see them. We wondered if they were from our village, and were excited to hear all the gossip from home. 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/20230707210756_f0da3da651fa11adf04479b6a62e36b349231ed7fe798b48698ffe6aef7588de.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230707210756_f0da3da651fa11adf04479b6a62e36b349231ed7fe798b48698ffe6aef7588de" data-rendition-name="original" width="557" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  Right in front of my eyes, the UAE was transformed and I changed too. My journey as a general helper began at a basic salary of 700 dirhams a month. By the time I left as Senior Clerk, I was making 5,500 dirhams ($1,360) basic salary along with an additional allowance of 3,200 dirhams. I know I am lucky compared to fellow Nepalis, which is why I stayed for 30 years in the same company. Many Nepalis still face problems, and I have helped many of them. There was no Nepali embassy until mid-2000, and we had to do what we could. When the UAE started prioritising jobs to locals, I was lucky not to be laid off. Many foreign workers had to leave. But I was incredibly unlucky with other things. I could not come to Nepal to spend the last days with my father. When he died, I could not hold him and cry. My brother also died while I was away. Nor was I here to hold my wife’s hand when my daughter was born. 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/20230707210756_dd16cbfb95c5afedf6cd04d63c06b81fa845a01ea3bd9f2b06b0d518a1b63892.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230707210756_dd16cbfb95c5afedf6cd04d63c06b81fa845a01ea3bd9f2b06b0d518a1b63892" data-rendition-name="original" width="589" height="731" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  But my job gave me insight into activities that enabled the rapid transformation of the country. The port I oversaw handled general goods and these also included soil, stones and greenery from different parts of the world like Pakistan, Lebanon, Turkey and Iran that would be used to build the cities and turn the desert green. Even livestock were brought from Europe and New Zealand. Some of the cows would give birth en route. The 100 cows that were loaded into ships became 105 by the time they disembarked in Dubai, messing up the paperwork which had to be redone. I got to see and touch new models of cars even before they were released in the market. Lambos, Ferraris and Teslas, you name it. Someone from my background could never dream of owning them, and my dreams for myself and my family were more modest. I was not admiring the latest automotive technology so much, but wondered how they would fare in Nepal's rough roads. These slick new cars with low ground clearance would never make it to my village. 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/2023070722070_df805d1c9de559efa2ea67f6eea57cfb0153c0e8a1583152200dca48d41f8969.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2023070722070_df805d1c9de559efa2ea67f6eea57cfb0153c0e8a1583152200dca48d41f8969" data-rendition-name="original" width="604" height="453" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  My job required me to train in the latest logistics management technologies. A recent visit to the land revenue office in Nepal with stacks and stacks of files made me wonder when we will reach that level. If the government wanted, I would even work for free for a few months to help upgrade our management systems. The world has really left us way behind. We citizens are also to blame. Nepalis tend to obey laws and rules depending where we are, and tend to be more relaxed about following them in Nepal than elsewhere. The UAE has a lot of oil wealth, and has also opened its doors for people from all over the world, offering them opportunities to invest and prosper. You can register a company in minutes using a smartphone. Even Nepalis in the UAE are now running their own businesses. I chose not to go that route since I wanted to come home. During my last days in Dubai, I remember getting emotional looking at the fully-grown neem tree I had planted in 2005 and nurtured with manure from imported livestock arriving at the port. Now in Nepal after 30 years, I am trying to find my footing. I know I cannot work for someone else. I am unsure what I will do next, and am aware of my age. I do not have the same energy of the young man who left for Dubai a lifetime ago.&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 Translated from a conversation in Nepali with Lek Yonzon Tamang. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Return of the native

This is the 32nd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I have worked overseas for nearly two decades, hopping around the Gulf countries from Saudi Arabia, UAE, Qatar to Kuwait. I even landed up in Seychelles. I came to Nepal twice but left again for better earnings overseas. After my SLC, I started working as a waiter for a salary of Rs450. I was also a sportsman, and worked as a wushu trainer. When a friend who had returned from Singapore came to visit me, he inspired me to go abroad for a secure future. Until then, I had not considered moving overseas. I handed him my freshly minted passport and he applied on my behalf. Before I knew it, we were both headed to Saudi Arabia to work as trolley boys in 1996. 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/2023052205050_45812962b472daa81dec9f69b756188be6cfb80e64b9e460a1e73b2985523d91.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023052205050_45812962b472daa81dec9f69b756188be6cfb80e64b9e460a1e73b2985523d91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="747" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>Babare Bahadur Bomjan in Nepal in 1992 when he was earning rs450 per month.</figcaption></figure>  My starting overseas earnings was just Rs13,000. By the time I returned in 2011 from Dubai, I was earning up to Rs400,000 a month in a managerial position. But after all that time being away, I no longer had a reason to linger around overseas. My family was settled, and I was financially stable. It was time to go home. After returning, I worked in a café for some time but I wanted to start something on my own. Having grown up working in the hospitality line, starting a restaurant seemed like a natural next step. Momos were the obvious choice, but I knew I had to do it differently to stand out. 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/2023052205050_fdc410dc9f999914de3bf8f89206735a23e1f71434e37f3b9d24006a09e58365.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023052205050_fdc410dc9f999914de3bf8f89206735a23e1f71434e37f3b9d24006a09e58365" data-rendition-name="original" width="1157" height="777" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>In 2001, Bomjam ended up in Lemuria Resort in Seychelles.</figcaption></figure>  My research showed that extremely spicy Korean ramen noodles were very popular among young Nepalis. This was the niche I could fill in the momo market where customers could adjust their spice levels. I chose a name that would stick: ‘Akbare Jhol Momo’. We sourced akbare chilis directly from farmers to keep costs low so it would be affordable for common people. Rent is high in Nepal but during the pandemic lockdown, I lucked out even though it was a risky move given the uncertainty. It has now been three years, and we are doing well with three outlets in Kathmandu. The restaurants are always busy with people enjoying the hit that the hot chili gives them, without causing a dent in their pockets. My hunch about the demand for spicy momos in Nepal was fortunately right. 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/2023052205054_a73ca0028b726536664f9fd65e7b944bee9c293d430aedbb17ab502a4e036e31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023052205054_a73ca0028b726536664f9fd65e7b944bee9c293d430aedbb17ab502a4e036e31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1244" height="802" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>Bomjan was working in Pizza Inn in Qatar in 2004.</figcaption></figure>  Everyone wants to go abroad these days. There are Nepalis who earn over Rs1 million there and those who earn only Rs30,000. The struggle is much harder if we go overseas without any real experience and skills, which later also impedes our ability to climb the career ladder. We now have good hospitality management schools in Nepal where people can get degrees in the field. With the right education and experience, more Nepalis will make it to leadership positions not just as chefs, but also in front of house positions. I returned to Nepal despite a handsome salary. Being home brings a sense of comfort and satisfaction that I cherish. I am around family, provide youth with jobs, am connected with my community and get to follow my passion. The overseas journey had been full of missed moments and sacrifices. Right after my marriage in 2002, I had just spent 19 days with my wife before returning to Dubai. When I met my eldest daughter for the first time, she was already three months. These were at a time when phone calls were still expensive. 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/2023052205050_b1c455e455b7441525af88edc8fa2e24773ef800cfe2208b185f1507e53173a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2023052205050_b1c455e455b7441525af88edc8fa2e24773ef800cfe2208b185f1507e53173a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1232" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>One of the outlets of Akbare Jhol Momo in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>  The trepidation of leaving cushy jobs to try something back home is understandable. I have talented friends who have worked overseas as chefs who returned to Nepal, failed with their ventures and were compelled to remigrate. I myself had started a restaurant in 2004 that did not work out. I had an investment plan, but not a plan to draw customers nor an understanding of the Nepal market to make informed decisions about potential locations, target populations, lowest cost sourcing strategies and what we could bring to the market that is refreshing and new. Money by itself is not enough. Customers won’t come automatically no matter how much you invest. The invitation needs to reach target customers in a way that appeals to them. In fact, I advise people to start small and build gradually, instead of gambling away all their hard-earned money. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin 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.

Finding a niche in Nepal

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

The return of a master baker

This is the 27th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. It has been 16 years since I left Nepal after finishing Grade 12. I was already in Dubai when I found out I had passed my exams. Growing up in Chitwan with four sisters, I never had to do any household chores. My father, a teacher, made sure I was never deprived of anything. So, when I had to suddenly work as a waiter in the UAE, it was not easy at first. My English was not good and I had no Arabic, which made my initial days abroad very difficult. Soon, I was transferred to the dishwashing department of Gloria Jeans Café. The two months I spent behind the scenes as a dishwasher were life-changing because the barista's bar was close by and a Sri Lankan was kind enough to teach me the art of coffee-making. I transferred to his department, and that was when my coffee journey began.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130424_9a75b5fe2f57760ae2bc99725f74d14dc51b3abf971df97691a8b8b7d1adf13d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230410130424_9a75b5fe2f57760ae2bc99725f74d14dc51b3abf971df97691a8b8b7d1adf13d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1152" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  When the Sri Lankan won in a GJC barista competition, I too made it my goal to participate in the competition. Not only did I win it next time, I also got to participate in regional and global competitions in which I secured second place and even got to travel to Egypt. You get 15 minutes each for preparation, presentation and clean-up and are evaluated by certified judges. The judges evaluate the presentation part by certified judges. This learning can be transformational because you are no longer mechanically preparing coffee to serve your customers, but you have to learn the mechanics behind it, experiment with different recipes and present your story in a compelling manner. And all this happens under extreme pressure live on camera and with an audience. During my presentations I shared stories about why I had to leave Nepal, and switched from being a tea lover to coffee. What you learn in these few months during the competition easily outweighs working passively behind the bar for years because you push your boundaries and find out what you are capable of. 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/20230410130416_a6d4f579b65d57dca9e6f65c46f902137aadc4580578c2115ef7126f44f1547a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230410130416_a6d4f579b65d57dca9e6f65c46f902137aadc4580578c2115ef7126f44f1547a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  I have gotten to work in unique cafes like Majlis Café in the UAE that was a camel milk café and then at Boon Specialty Café where I learnt to care about the origin of coffee, right from farmers to roasters. Us baristas also have the ultimate responsibility to ensure it is brewed perfectly, working in specialty cafés expanded my horizon to think about the story behind the beans. It was while I was working in the UAE that I came across investors in Qatar who were looking to start a specialty café in Doha. I have been working at Flat White for the last five years since its launch as manager and trainer.&nbsp; Given my love for socialising with people and for coffee, my friends and I started Coffee Samaj Nepal recently. It is still a relatively new organisation and one of our aims is to complete the paperwork necessary to conduct training by Nepali coffee enthusiasts for Nepali jobseekers in Qatar for promising baristas.&nbsp; 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/20230410130416_bd81c48c040a86163aafbe1a19e9204500319726577fcb47bfc841266cbbe4aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230410130416_bd81c48c040a86163aafbe1a19e9204500319726577fcb47bfc841266cbbe4aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  My relationship with coffee has been evolving over the years. Initially, latte art was exciting as it gave new baristas an opportunity to experiment with different patterns and art forms. My favourite patterns are tulips and rosetta, but I also enjoy other patterns like seahorse, chameleon, and swans. Then I found it exciting to experiment with different roast levels and brewing temperatures to come up with that perfect mix of flavour and aroma. It is always motivating when my regular customers demand that I prepare their drink for them. I put in a lot of care while preparing each cup. Now, my passion is to produce and promote baristas, and helping coordinate barista competitions can be an important platform to promote talent. I no longer participate in competitions myself but help younger baristas do so. Coffee Samaj Nepal recently organised a Latte Art Throwdown in Qatar in which there were 64 participants, and the winners were a Nepali and two Filipinos. In another Qatar national barista competition, we played the role of coordinator, which was won by a Filipino with Nepalis coming second and third. When capable baristas cannot afford participation fees, we help fundraise. These competitions provide people an opportunity to showcase their talent and get recognised in the coffee sector. As a previous winner in competitions, it certainly helped elevate my profile in the region. With Nepalis winning in many barista related competitions that are judged by renowned SCA certified international judges, it sends a powerful message that Nepalis are as good as the best in the world and this could translate to better opportunities globally.&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/20230410130416_bc29f025d6fc680fb662abb84c5c4a784cd718465f1d5a9aa0d7fc4d4bd92679.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230410130416_bc29f025d6fc680fb662abb84c5c4a784cd718465f1d5a9aa0d7fc4d4bd92679" data-rendition-name="original" width="536" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  When baristas come to Qatar from Nepal after getting trained and gaining some work experience in cafes, it is much easier for them to pick up on the job requirements. Nepal’s barista training is good but not enough. Given the differences in machines used, coffee grades and techniques, they still require training on the job for a while before they can handle the role on their own. But there is great demand for baristas overseas, and Nepalis are building a strong reputation in this category.&nbsp; There is potential not just to export Nepali coffee making services, but also high quality Nepali coffee. The high altitude and climate of Nepal makes it favourable for good quality coffee production. When my friends and I eventually return to Nepal, we want to help promote Nepali coffee globally. As a coffee aficionado, I deal with coffee every day, but I still cannot forget the whiff of my first ever coffee the first time I tried it as a 21 year old in Dubai 16 years ago. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</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.

Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado

<img width="1000" height="772" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141136/636cfe849c7e80680e0a0c42jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nepal’s economy has hit the iceberg, but you wouldn’t know it from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-post-breakup-politics/">politicians fighting it out</a> on the deck.
A serial prime minister <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/what-is-delaying-nepal-cabinet-expansion/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cannot form a functioning coalition government</a> even after 6 weeks of assuming office, his coalition partners are too faction-ridden to be a countervailing force, and the main opposition has just split.
All this is nothing new, of course. It has been the way things have been ever since the 1990 changes when democracy was supposed to unleash prosperity. Three decades of political infighting, neglect, conflict, a rent-seeking state and governance failure have left the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/instability-to-cost-nepal-dear-in-2021/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">economy in tatters</a>. And now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/behind-the-masks/">we have the pandemic to contend with</a>. 
If the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/old-wine-in-old-bottle-in-nepal-politics/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">political battles being played out</a> in the parlours of power were inter-generational or about ideology, something good might have come of it. But such personality driven one-upmanship means that the current crop of ageing politicos has neither the time nor competence to deal with the emergency at hand.
The malaise runs deep. Despite gains in literacy, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nepali-times-search/?q=lessons+notlearned" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">poor quality of education</a> drives young Nepalis to seek salaried jobs. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/first-drought-then-downpour/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">yield from agriculture</a> is so low it does not make sense to farm. Government investment and market support for agriculture are ineffective. Every year, 700,000 youth join the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/mayday-mayday-mayday/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">labour market</a> but there are jobs in Nepal for only 15% of them. The rest seek their fortunes abroad by selling ancestral property, fallow farms, lower food production, increasing poverty, and completing the vicious cycle. 
Nepal’s trade deficit has averaged $10 billion a year for the last three years. It only went down in 2020-21 because lockdowns reduced fuel imports. Newly released Nepal Rastra Bank trade figures show that the country is, to put it bluntly, bankrupt. The only reason we have not gone completely belly-up is because of remittances, which pumped $8 billion into the economy this year. 
Nepal’s biggest import item by far is petroleum and in the past fiscal year it hit Rs175 billion — compared to Rs90 billion the country earned from all other exports combined.
You could say that we are buying oil with the sweat of Nepali <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/job-seekers-now-also-jab-seekers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">migrant workers</a>  With tourism receipts and fees from mountaineering and trekking nearly zero, the economy’s reliance on remittances is even greater than before.
This is obviously unsustainable: economically, politically and environmentally. Nepal needs to make good on its target to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nepali-times-search/?q=lessons+notlearned" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">switch to renewable energy</a> for transportation by 2030 — not just to do our bit to save the planet, but to reduce our economic and political dependence on the outside.  
Other interesting things stick out of the NRB trade data. Curiously, Nepal’s biggest item of export is soybean oil when the country is not any major grower of soya. The answer can be seen in the graph for imports: the fifth largest item there is raw soyabean oil. So, we import soyabean oil in bulk from Argentina, Brazil and Malaysia and re-export it to India.Even more interesting is that the money Nepal earned from exporting refined soybean oil (Rs53.6 billion) is exactly what we spent on importing the stuff (Rs53.3 billion). Our entire foreign trade system seems to be based on a product that we do not even manufacture ourselves. There is almost no value addition, it does not create jobs, and only provides the government about Rs5 billion a year in tax revenue.The government’s neglect of agriculture means that imports of staple items, vegetables, and fruits have soared in the past decade. The country spent Rs130 billion on importing food items in 2010-11, but Rs323 billion this fiscal year. Of this one-third was spent on rice imports alone.Partly, this is due to agricultural productivity not being able to keep pace with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/everybody-counts-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">population growth </a>and growing demands of the middle class. Two-thirds of Nepal’s 30 million people are theoretically engaged in agriculture, but they are not producing enough to even feed themselves.We are living way beyond our means, and the only reason we can do that is because of those remittances. The buck stops at Singha Durbar.

Blood, sweat, tears

<figure><img width="960" height="1280" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfc789c7e80680e0a0b8ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>All photos: UPASANA KHADKA</figcaption></figure>Thousands of Nepal’s outbound workers have been waiting in packed queues for hours, sometimes days, in the capital to obtain electronic <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-queueing-up-all-night-for-proof-of-jab/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">proof of vaccination</a> amid fears that the crowds have turned into a breeding ground for the coronavirus. They have braved the rain and withstood heat, as seen in these pictures of migrants at the National Ayurveda Research and Training Centre in Kirtipur on Sunday.  <img width="1000" height="1333" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfc7b9c7e80680e0a0b8fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1142" height="718" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfc7d9c7e80680e0a0b90jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="960" height="1280" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfc7f9c7e80680e0a0b91jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1000" height="1333" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfc829c7e80680e0a0b92jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1000" height="1333" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfc859c7e80680e0a0b93jpeg.jpg" alt="">Destination countries like Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the UAE, which accounted for 80% of labour approvals in 2020-21, require migrants to have government-verified vaccination certificates. The newly-issued government proof of vaccine has a unique QR code for authentication, following concerns about the acceptability of previously provided paper-based vaccine documents. Outbound workers headed overseas can also obtain electronic certificates <a href="https://vaccine.mohp.gov.np/public-request-form">online</a>.For Nepali migrant workers, the vaccine certificate is only the latest among a long checklist of permits, certificates and authorisations to complete before their departure. Moreover, changing vaccine requirements, the authenticity of paper-based certification and the availability of doses have added to the problems for outbound migrants who are harassed every step of the way.Yet, such is the desperation of Nepalis that they are lining up for days to obtain a simple piece of paper for overseas jobs amid shrinking opportunities at home and abroad. Workers who have relied on migration to break out of intergenerational poverty now have to deal with Covid-induced policy changes in destination countries. Meanwhile, Nepalis earning a daily wage and those working in tourism and agriculture have suffered <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepalis-lost-jobs-in-past-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">job losses</a> and or reduced income at home. Hiring freezes and travel bans from destination countries due to public health concerns following the pandemic saw the number of annual labour approvals fall below 100,000 to just over 72,000 in 2020-21, the lowest in 20 years. <img src="data:image/png;base64,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" alt="pastedGraphic.png"/> In comparison, <a href="https://ccmc.gov.np/ccmc2/ccmc_update/No.of%20Nepali%20Repatriated%202078.04.05.pdf">nearly 500,000 Nepali workers</a> were repatriated from across the world during the pandemic.

Nepali workers queue up for QR codes

<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d07da9c7e80680e0a5fe3jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nepalis gathering in Istanbul in December 2017. The number of Nepalis applying for labour approvals to work in Turkey jumped from less than 100 in 2014 to more than 1,500 in five years.</figcaption></figure>When Shyam Kala Rai moved to Turkey for domestic work in 2012, she struggled to find fellow Nepalis. Today, there are Nepalis in most major cities in the country that straddles Europe and Asia.In 2014 fewer than 100 Nepalis took labour approvals for Turkey, by 2019 that figure had jumped to over 1,500. It is estimated to be much more now.Rai is now vice-chair of the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRNA) in Turkey and says the country is becoming a popular destination for Nepali overseas workers, especially women caregivers. She says, “Turkey is a good option. They can earn anywhere from $500 to $1,200 a month if they are determined to work hard and provide for the family back home, like I did.” But many young female migrants are not mentally and physically prepared for domestic work when they arrive, or they use the job of household help as a jumping-off point for other work, Rai says.  “For some, the only objective initially is to somehow make it abroad. But reality bites once they arrive and find that the work is not so glamorous,” she adds. “Many women escape their employers to work in spas, as part-time live-out domestic workers, or in other sectors and lose their legal status.”  <figure><img width="260" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d07dd9c7e80680e0a5fe4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Shyam Kala Rai has been living in Istanbul since 2012. vice-chair of the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRNA) in Turkey.</figcaption></figure>This is why the number of undocumented Nepali workers has grown, while others overstay their tourist visas. For employers, hiring undocumented workers can be cheaper as it relieves them from formal responsibilities like obtaining work permits or paying for monthly insurance which is costly in Turkey.But when Covid-19 hit, undocumented workers found themselves in a tough spot. Many with jobs in the hospitality sector lost their jobs, rent became unaffordable, and sometimes up to 20 Nepalis were sharing one apartment. Irregular workers were ineligible for support from the government.Ujjal Kumar Ghising, who heads NRNA Turkey estimates that there may have been up to 4,000 Nepalis in Turkey pre-COVID, but that number is decreased as many opted to return to Nepal. Others headed crossed over to Greece and into Europe. The devaluation of the Turkish lira added to the push factor. Nepal does not have an embassy in Ankara, and it is the country’s embassy in Islamabad that is accredited to Turkey. With so many Nepalis here, growing trade and regular flights by Turkish Airlines, the absence of a diplomatic presence here is sorely felt.“The Nepali consulate here is closed, and the NRNA tries to respond to the needs of Nepalis here, but there is only so much we can do,” says Ghising. “An official diplomatic presence here would be able to mobilise support for Nepalis from problematic placement officers or employers faster than we could.”A task as simple as renewing a passport, for example, can be cumbersome as documents need to be sent to Islamabad, then Kathmandu and returned to Turkey.In addition, the absence of a labour agreement with destination countries like Turkey is also a problem since there is a range of issues that require collaboration and regular dialogue between the two governments.An official at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Kathmandu (MoFA) acknowledged that Nepal and Turkey should forge closer ties, and have regular diplomatic dialogue. Nepal had sent a draft bilateral labour agreement to Ankara but progress has been stalled because of the pandemic.“There are employment opportunities in Turkey, especially for female workers but the embassy in Pakistan has not been attesting job demand letters,” complains Sujit Shrestha of NAFEA (Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies). In 2019, 20 recruitment agencies in Kathmandu were engaged in deploying workers to Turkey. The MoFA official interviewed for this report said that most job demands in Turkey are for Nepali caregivers, but provisions needed to be in place to ensure their safety via a bilateral labour agreement given the sensitivity of the sector.However, Ghising of NRNA Turkey says that if the recruiting agency is responsible and partners with a reliable Turkish placement office, the chances are higher that the Nepali worker lands a good employer or receive help in case there are problems. There have been recent complaints of underpaid salaries and recruiters not responding to Nepali workers’ pleas for help.But the lack of demand attestation by the embassy has not stopped some recruitment agencies from bypassing the rule and obtain individual labour approvals instead of having one from agencies that would make them jointly liable with employers for compensation. “The Game”Besides being an increasingly popular destination for Nepali workers, Turkey is also a transit for Nepalis wanting to cross into Europe – which is referred to as “the game”.Ramesh is one Nepali who successfully completed his “game” to cross over to Greece, and then on to Macedonia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Slovenia and Italy over 50 days to finally land up in France where he is now.  <figure><img width="945" height="920" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d07e09c7e80680e0a5fe5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Cooking food at a jungle camp in Bosnia-Herzegovina.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="768" height="768" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d07e29c7e80680e0a5fe6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Migrants including Ramesh trekking across the Slovenia-Italy border en route to France.</figcaption></figure>South Asian agents, mostly Pakistani, facilitate the crossing from Turkey to Greece, and Turkey-based Nepali agents are usually at the lower rungs of the network. Most Nepalis take the land route to Greece, and not the more dangerous seas crossing, walking day and night for a week to reach the border. <figure><img width="290" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d07e59c7e80680e0a5fe7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A group of Nepalis and other South Asians rest In the forest in Croatia.</figcaption></figure>“When you are walking in the dark and if a vehicle passes by, you are instructed to just drop to the ground wherever you are and lay low till the coast is clear,” Ramesh recalled. “We survived on roti and biscuits, but the most painful part of it for me was the thirst. There was no water to drink.”  It was only in his third attempt that Ramesh finally made it across, and says he is fortunate that the Pakistani agent did not charge him any fee when he got caught and was sent back twice.  After he made it across, he paid the agent 2,000 euros and took a train to Athens with other South Asians. He then travelled across the Balkans to Italy, braved wild animals, and highway robbers, slippery trails and dangerous river crossings. There were moments of respite, like helping pick grapes in Macedonia where a local family fed them and were hospitable. “It did not matter that we did not speak each other’s languages there was just a feeling that we were all human,” says Ramesh, admitting that he has been luckier than other Nepalis who have been caught, beaten, detained or deported en route.“Many are left to die in the forests. Many never make it. I did,” he says. Ramesh is willing to share his story because he wants to warn other Nepalis how difficult “the game” is.“You have to know what the deal is, and if it is worth it,” he adds, “when you are desperate you take risks. I kept telling myself, I was doing this not for myself but for my children’s future in Nepal.”

Nepal to Turkey, and onwards

Upasana Khadka

Landlocked Nepalis sail the seven seas

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

As soon as she milks her cow, 52-year-old Punam B K is off, pedaling her bicycle furiously along the highway with a blue milk can in the front basket.&nbsp; By the time she arrives at the Jaya Shiva Ganesh Dairy Producers Cooperative in Gopalganj village, others are already there, their bicycles parked on the roadside. The farmers are all holding on to their blue milk cans, and are chatting away.&nbsp; “We keep what is needed for the family, and sell whatever remains here at the cooperative,” says B K, as the volume, fat and non-fat solid content of her milk is measured. It is then poured into a bigger vat to be mixed with milk from other farmers. B K collects her receipt with the value of her milk, and prepares to head home. The farmers are reimbursed on a quarterly basis.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-family-that-works-together-stays-together">A family that works together stays together</a>, Sahina Shrestha “Everyone around here has at least a cow or buffalo to provide milk for the family, the cowdung is used for fertiliser, and we can bring whatever is left over to the cooperative,” says B K who, like the others, brings her milk by bicycle twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_0df32c0f6a572aef83eca02dc7a86f75ea5dbc88dc6c2390d42a44ab3cc93395.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241210081232_0df32c0f6a572aef83eca02dc7a86f75ea5dbc88dc6c2390d42a44ab3cc93395" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  All this may seem like nothing special, just an ordinary farmer selling her milk. But it has to be seen in the context of dairy farmers overcoming subsistence and increasing household income. Nearly 200,000 dairy farmers from over 1,200 cooperatives have not been paid by the government-run DDC for their milk for a year or more.&nbsp; The DDC has fixed a quota for buying milk from cooperatives that limits production even during the peak winter months. Farmers in Chitwan are so fed up, they have staged demonstrations in Kathmandu and even poured milk on the East-West Highway in protest.&nbsp; Punam B K’s milk ends up in Bhawani Dairy, a milk processing plant in Chitwan that buys milk from various cooperatives in the district. It was established six years ago by three entrepreneur cousins Devrath Baral, Drishya Baral and Subash Paudel and is now being supported by the Commercial Agriculture for Smallholders and Agribusiness (CASA) project.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_4e3c65390b9c5345f807b10cbb8c36b006ef6d3cb972e07b5067f4b2db2be32e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241210081232_4e3c65390b9c5345f807b10cbb8c36b006ef6d3cb972e07b5067f4b2db2be32e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1102" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  This UK-funded project implemented by Swisscontact in Nepal has been supporting agro-businesses in 23 countries in Asia and Africa. They focus on improving the capacity of private dairy and vegetable farmers to find markets and build a sustainable supply chain for their produce. It helps dairies like the one in Chitwan with branding and marketing, as well to track business through a Dairy Management System (DMS) digital database.&nbsp; Bhawani Dairy also got support to conduct orientation for cooperative farmers to learn about new ways to boost productivity with breeding, cowshed management and hygiene maintenance. Many commercial farmers in Chitwan, some with up to 60 cows and buffaloes, have benefited.&nbsp; B K says she only has six cows, so not everything she hears at the orientation about increasing cowshed area is applicable. “We are just happy our milk is not wasted, and we can earn some cash from the surplus,” she says.&nbsp; Bhawani Dairy’s clientele is based entirely in Chitwan and in towns along the East-West Highway. But building on its success here, the company is looking to expand nationwide and target the Kathmandu market. Being a perishable product, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/nepal-s-milk-heartland-rebounds">diary business is challenging</a>. Businesses also need investment and technical support to diversify into value-added milk products like cheese, yoghurt, ice cream or powdered milk.&nbsp; “For now, the best thing we as a dairy business can do for farmers is to buy their milk at a decent price and pay them in time,” says Drishya Baral of Bhawani Dairy.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_6c06efb5674dbcd8679015af543bfda87030755383a13c9269e272af28e85953.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241210081232_6c06efb5674dbcd8679015af543bfda87030755383a13c9269e272af28e85953" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  Another agro-industry supported by CASA since 2018 is Himalayan Supervores, a venture that sources farm produce to supply vegetables and other foods to restaurants and hotels in the city, and even export Halal-certified produce to Gulf countries.&nbsp; CASA helped with cold chain management system to keep vegetable produce fresh so that the products earn trust about quality in the national and international market. Himalayan Supervores is already exporting to UAE and Qatar, and is targeting other Gulf countries next. “The guidance provided by the international expert was invaluable, we could not have bought that knowledge even with money,” says Nelson Shrestha of Himalayan Supervores. “It was not about fancy hardware, but how to minimise wastage, increase productivity, save time and money.”&nbsp; Though Himalayan Supervores collects vegetables from vegetable cooperatives, it indirectly works with a network of thousands of cooperative farmers. Its catchment area therefore is enormous, and it has enhanced their knowledge about organic farming methods, bio-pesticides, and the right way to handle and package vegetables. CASA’s most recent tie-up is with Pokhara-based Poshilo Foods, which specialises in increasing the shelf-life of local nutritional food items. During the Covid lockdown <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p3bparajuli/">Prithwi Kallyan Parajuli</a> saw an opportunity to supply nutritional foods that stayed longer, and set up Poshilo.&nbsp; It took traditional satu flour made from dry-roasted pulse, added more nutrients, and packaged it. Four flavours of satu with nutrient values differentiated for various age groups now line the shelves of supermarket chains like KK Mart, Saleways. Poshilo is now exploring the export market in India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241210081232_a8dbea8c8d45ac4eff6c37fb47da7ff461989c662ba86d207a008381101acdcf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241210081232_a8dbea8c8d45ac4eff6c37fb47da7ff461989c662ba86d207a008381101acdcf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1275" loading="lazy" alt="dairy farmers in Chitwan"> </figure>  In the five years of helping Nepali agribusinesses, CASA has already teamed up with 35 established companies. Parajuli heaps fulsome praise on the catalytic support and guidance he got early on, not just for product design, but to explore market viability, branding and marketing.&nbsp; He has participated in government-led programs before, but says those are one-off and focus only on technical solutions and do not pay much attention to the important back-end work with management and sales.&nbsp; Says Devrath Baral of Bhawani Dairy in Chitwan: “We would probably have eventually got to where we are now, but it would have taken years longer without CASA. And now we can share our experience with other agribusinesses in Nepal.”

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