This is the 84th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. Growing up, my parents encouraged me to prioritise studies. As the youngest, I always had an inner desire to be independent. My job at a travel agency in Kathmandu did not inspire me much. I wanted to strike off on my own but did not have money, and was reluctant to ask my parents because then they might have wanted to marry me off. So without telling them, I started Korean language lessons. What I had read and heard about Korea appealed to me because it was safe for women, they were treated respectfully and protected by strong laws. I wanted to temporarily migrate with the sole purpose of raising enough capital to start my own business one day. I made my passport without telling my parents. It was a hassle because they needed the consent of guardians since girls were at risk of being trafficked. I convinced them I was able to stand up for myself. I passed the Korean exam, and only then told my parents. I was in the first cohort under the Korea G2G Employment Permit System (EPS). The work there was not difficult: I trimmed, cleaned, sorted imported flower bulbs. My monthly earnings were Rs60,000 with overtime. I got engaged to my friend with 200 guests in attendance at a Lama ceremony. We had gone as friends but realised there that we were meant for each other. Later, when we returned to Nepal, we got married in a traditional ceremony.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_00a1e9f6b4c70756d1c8737e4c294cb2d3a9b73e0cd26bc9b84bc61d18644cb7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260219130232_00a1e9f6b4c70756d1c8737e4c294cb2d3a9b73e0cd26bc9b84bc61d18644cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  I stayed on in Nepal after my wedding while my husband re-migrated. We have two children, and when the younger one turned two, I was ready to go back to work. This time, as an entrepreneur. I bought the rights to an outlet of the Burger House and Crunchy Fried Chicken franchise which was neither too posh nor too shabby, reasonably priced, hygienic and with a cosy ambience. The outlet did well, and the lessons I picked up in Korea helped -- it taught me to value every second and be disciplined. I now transfer these lessons to my trainees. As a café entrepreneur no work is too small. I clean, wash dishes, make coffee, train, and run the cash register. I do it all. I have learnt the value of work. I was once contacted by the Korean Embassy. They wanted to understand what returnees in Nepal are up to. They put our stories in a book. The K-Hami project team encouraged me to share my story and inspire other Korea returnees, especially women. We created the DidiBahini network for women returnees, which we have recently registered as Sangi Nepal. There is a shared journey that binds us returnees. We know the struggle overseas. We value hard-earned money that comes with immense sacrifices, and we have learnt that hard work and dedication pays. As a restaurant entrepreneur, I often get calls from youth asking for jobs. They are under 25 and are struggling to juggle work and study. They need skills and jobs, so I started a hospitality training centre to help young people develop job ready skills. I did not think that I would get into politics, even though my grandfather was once a minister. As an entrepreneur, I can be everything the situation demands: barista, cashier, trainer, cleaner, dishwasher. And that is what politicians should also be. It is about more than power, it is a service. You have to experience hunger to solve hunger, empathise with people and their struggles. I had never seen myself as a politician, but I know that I understand people. When someone is hurting, it hurts me. People had started noticing, and I was invited to join various political parties.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_d989fc863fa8391c19abe88b153d54da3c1a4a51de3ccb7716230756e1c5a17e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260219130232_d989fc863fa8391c19abe88b153d54da3c1a4a51de3ccb7716230756e1c5a17e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  INTO POLITICS In my neighbour’s house, for example, there was no water and sewage was a problem. The prolonged inaction bothered me so I lobbied to get it fixed. This made me understand how far we can go if we serve selflessly. If we have a voice, we need to use it. Even then I did not think I would join politics, at least not directly and not for another ten years. During past elections, I used to educate people about good candidates and to think beyond parties. When I had heard that Kulman Ghising was starting a party, I trusted that he could contribute a lot based on his delivery experience. I just wanted to volunteer for his party, but ended up joining it. I realised women do not want to enter the fray, and are satisfied with proportional representation seats. Women should not hold back, or be held back. We should fight, share our vision and take action. We need to be in decision-making roles too. I wanted to see more women in Parliament. I wanted to fight direct elections and was appointed to run in Kathmandu-7. I felt proud. We don’t need to make lofty promises. Politicians do not care about the grassroots. They are stuck to their chairs. I do not have an unrealistic vision but want to help people in tangible ways. For hungry people, food is a priority. For the uneducated, it is education. For the sick, even one medicine tablet can go a long way. Health, education and jobs are my focus. I want to promote youth self-employment and decent jobs, just as I did as an entrepreneur. Being elected to power is not enough, you have to perform and deliver. Even in Kathmandu, there is poverty and hunger. It is hard to believe that some of these places exist in the capital — hard to reach places with no basic services. This hurt as well as inspired me.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_6723e3ff9b4c195c4ed13693b0d4a1066f37462e14fbdb22026c26ce10710072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260219130232_6723e3ff9b4c195c4ed13693b0d4a1066f37462e14fbdb22026c26ce10710072" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  If I am elected to Parliament, I will serve selflessly. As a returnee with a voice and the possibility to make policies and laws, I want to encourage people overseas to come back with whatever savings and learning they have and contribute to the country. It may not be easy, but it will be worth it. I myself may not have faced challenges overseas, but there are many who do not have a positive experience abroad, I will raise their concerns. I will also continue to encourage other women to do more. As a businesswoman, a politician and a mother I will erase any doubts they have about their capabilities. I will continue to be that source of courage. In Kathmandu-7, there are 29 candidates, I am the only female. While campaigning, people often ask me if I have money. When I say I don’t, they ask how I expect to fight an election. Through my idealism, I tell them. People also ask me if I am a proportional representation candidate. That is the first impression voters have of women candidates. When I tell them I am contesting directly, many are surprised. There are challenges but I like challenges. I like a fight. There will be winners and losers, that is part of the game. All I want to do is inspire fellow women and youth. My husband has whole-heartedly supported my business and political journey. My children are curious what will happen if I win. Even before I stood as a candidate, they knew their mother was a fearless leader. They now recognise the green Ujyalo Nepal Party banners. Looking at my children makes me even more committed to shape the future of the next generations of Nepalis. This is what got me into politics in the first place: to serve.

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Migrant>returnee>entrepreneur>politician

This is the 81st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I went to Australia in 2008 because everyone was headed there. It was my first time leaving the country and my first job. My college helped me find work as a kitchen helper at a Brisbane restaurant.&nbsp; I did not know that being a kitchen helper meant washing dishes. I was young and did not know how to wash dishes or how to handle the steam, the hot water, and the busy kitchen. The utensils were thrown at the dishwashing station continuously, and water splashed on my face. My shoes and clothes were always wet. It was an on-call job. A couple of days into the job, I was asked to come in when I was at the movies. I refused. They fired me. That was that. I then worked on a farm, picking lemons and oranges. The lemon work was particularly hard because I would get cuts all over my hands. This hustle was not for me.&nbsp; Within a year in Australia, I decided to return to Nepal because the foreign life did not suit me. After spending eight months in Nepal, reality sank in. Nepal was not all that great either. I went back to Australia. On the plane, I befriended a Nepali woman who was homesick and a first time traveler. At the immigration in Australia, the officer noticed my long absence and started interrogating me. He noticed the Nepali woman waiting for me and asked who she was. Without thinking I lied that she was my girlfriend. That seemed to do the trick because he did not want us to be separated. He stamped my passport. She went her way. I went mine.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f" data-rendition-name="original" width="987" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81 NT"> </figure>  In Sydney, I again found a dishwashing job at a fine dining restaurant. A Sri Lankan colleague helped me learn the job. The pace at which I had to do the dishes was insane but I got the hang of it in two weeks. I always dreamt of one day wearing the chef’s white coat. It commanded respect, I could tell. In addition to becoming good at my job washing dishes, I also had good language and networking skills so I built good relationships with colleagues. There was a need for a pizza chef at the restaurant. It was expensive to hire someone new, and they asked me if I was up for the job. I said yes even though I knew nothing about making pizzas. My Italian colleagues coached me and before I knew it, I became better than others at the job. Soon, I realised that I did not just want to make pizzas. Whatever I wanted to learn, I just asked seniors to take me under their wings and I would help without pay. They would agree but still pay me. It wasn’t a strategy per se, I genuinely wanted to learn. At some point, a Japanese sous chef in my restaurant and I had coincidentally applied to the same restaurant, and there, under him, I got to learn even more. Working with a Japanese chef is really difficult, but you learn a lot. He would sometimes even hold my hand with tongs dipped in hot water when I screwed something up. I worked in a few restaurants after this and was earning well. When one of my colleagues, a dishwasher, was let go unfairly, I decided to leave because I did not want to be a quiet bystander to this act. I returned to Nepal immediately after this.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 82"> </figure>  I started a restaurant called Ghumti, but it was struggling. The location of the restaurants was not good and it failed. I bought another restaurant in Darbar Marg. I was managing two restaurants when Covid hit. The rent kept piling up, and there was no revenue. I took a huge loss. I gave them up and returned to Chitwan and started making migration plans. I came across a job vacancy for Alba in Qatar by the famous Enrico Crippa. I still remember the heat when I got out of the airport in Doha, it was like entering an oven. Thankfully, I had a Nepali roommate who showed me around and helped me adjust.&nbsp; The hotel was still under construction, but training had started. We worked really hard for the opening and things went well. In 2023, we even won the Best MENA Restaurant award. But at some point in 2024, the international Crippa chain decided to leave.&nbsp; Some colleagues including the head chef left and I suddenly was put in charge. I had some head chef experience from Australia and had previous experience working in high pressure environments, so I stepped up. We had to start from scratch again, this time as Alba in Raffles, Doha.&nbsp; The name of our restaurant comes from the Alba white truffle, which is the best available and is expensive, selling at around 40,000 QAR per kg. We had heard the official announcement that the Michelin was coming to Qatar, and we worked even harder.&nbsp; Michelin inspections are strict, highly secretive and you have no idea you are being investigated. Even then, we were up for the game. We were ‘selected’ which meant we had potential.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="697" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81"> </figure>  I went to the award ceremony with low expectations. But because they announce the name alphabetically, Alba came first. I was very happy and felt validated. Being recognised as a Michelin one star restaurant is a huge achievement for us. My MD reminded me of a promise I had made of getting a Michelin tattoo if we got the award. I guess I will get it done when I come to Nepal next. My plan is to get a tattoo that captures my journey right from the dishwashing days.&nbsp; I have cooked for Obama, Beckham, Kaka, Trump, 50 Cent, Lindsay Lohan, you name it, because our restaurant is visited by high profile guests. At first, I used to feel the pressure. Now I view all guests as the same. The food you make is the same no matter who is eating it. I love the work. In fact, it does not feel like work. The rush in the kitchen, the atmosphere, the heat, the scent, I live for it. When I am not working, I get bored. It is like an addiction without which I get withdrawals. I want to contribute in introducing Nepali cuisine and ingredients in the worldstage. Nepalis overseas have a lot of potential in the hospitality sector. But my advice to youth is to focus on building a strong base and invest in learning. It is increasingly common for Nepalis to job hop for a salary jump. While other skills like language are also important, it is the hard skills that we really need to focus on. In our field of work, it is the plate that needs to speak.

Sky is the limit

TikTok has come under scrutiny for misuse as a platform for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/recruiters-of-nepalis-into-russian-army-identified">recruiting Nepalis into the Russian Army</a>, or promoting irregular migration.&nbsp; One <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-unchanging-migration-saga">prevailing narrative on migration</a> is that workers just post pictures in front of, say, Petronas or Burj Khalifa that<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/you-must-be-having-so-much-fun-there"> glamorises their lives overseas </a>which can mislead folks back in Nepal. This is further fueled by brokers who over-promise and deceive workers.&nbsp; TikTok is different. The video-based app is unparalleled in its portrayal of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/shared-stories-shattered-dreams-of-south-asian-migrant-workers">reality of migrant lives</a>. Whether it is a Qatar-based Nepali camel herder who lives in the desert, a domestic worker in Oman who shares her life with fellow domestic workers from Kenya and Philippines, or a farmhand knee deep in a water spinach field in Korea, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/taking-back-tiktok">TikTok</a> provides a window to the daily lives of migrant workers as is.&nbsp; With live commentary covering the good and bad, the posts are filled with humour, insights and creativity. And it is in the mundane that viewers become invested and aspirants learn more about<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work"> lives overseas</a>. The platform also allows the mini-influencers to feel more connected digitally, as overseas jobs especially in domestic work and agriculture can be isolating. &nbsp; The videos are also a refreshing contrast from how migration is portrayed in movies or songs, or the mainstream media. Workers who pick up their phones and film their daily lives or thoughts, raw and unscripted, present migration in all its complexity, not with a binary lens of good or bad.&nbsp; Migration is such a human centric topic that there are conversations, encounters, talent or moments that stay with us, tug at our hearts that we want to archive, share and revisit. TikTok allows that, and perhaps that is why we at <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab">Migration Lab</a> are so invested in the platform, even though it is time-consuming and not monetised. &nbsp; Our <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7391048965900209440">first TikTok post</a> was by a Malaysia-bound poet from Jajarkot who recited a poem that he had composed on the go at the airport. A <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQvM_yAUETg">migration song</a> that another worker from the same recruitment drive sang has been reused over 2,300 times. A returnee <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7486852070629215510" target="_blank">explaining</a> why everyone should migrate at least once has generated a huge response, as did a <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7476070712290151702" target="_blank">father</a> bidding farewell to his UK-bound son at the airport from his duty in Qatar. Our stories for TikTok are just miniature versions of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Diaspora Diaries</a> series in this newspaper. It is formatted for today’s attention span. Indeed, retaining viewers is tough in this fast-paced platform where views really do not amount to much on their own. What TikTok rewards most, we learn, is relatability. If you can see yourself, your values or your experiences reflected in what you are watching, you are more likely to stay longer and engage more.&nbsp; But ideally, that same relatability can also serve as inspiration to encourage someone to aim higher. If a seasoned migrant’s story resonates with viewers because of shared experiences like starting their overseas stints at <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7489075333816225047">low-wage positions</a>, then what they <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/playlist/Bidesh%20bata%20farkepachi-7524547573806402326">have achieved despite the odds</a> might also feel within reach.&nbsp; Stories of migrant upward mobility, successful returnee entrepreneurs, and lessons learnt overseas can carry lessons useful for others. How can people like Yasmeen Naaz, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-woman-s-drive-to-push-boundaries" target="_blank">Shanti Bhandari</a> who drives a double-decker tourist bus in Dubai, or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">Raju Pakhrin</a> who returned to Nepal to run a <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7437126060757585185">successful bakery</a>, inspire more people to be bolder to reach their potential?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250814090824_6a5ba908d0e4c86620a78ac6116c8bdb5cb2fa824e4c12382941c92be91e3418.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250814090824_6a5ba908d0e4c86620a78ac6116c8bdb5cb2fa824e4c12382941c92be91e3418" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1235" loading="lazy" alt="TikTok Migration Lab NT"> </figure>  ETHICAL JOURNEY TikTok is also a useful tool to help people understand <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/playlist/Shunya%20lagat%20shrinkhala-7524550534783601430">what ethical recruitment is</a>, and to promote responsible migration practices. Nepalis seeking jobs overseas often do not believe that ethical opportunities exist — they <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7537715519596662038">fear being scammed</a> or left stranded abroad. Our research with the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/valuing-moral-migration">ethical recruiter</a> partner International Manpower Recruitment (IMR) shows that most believe that only those with privileged connections can migrate without being cheated. But research also shows that perceptions can change, especially if there is a trusted person in the network who has been ethically recruited. If used correctly, TikTok can be a second-best alternative to personal networks by directing those seeking <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dying-to-work-overseas">overseas jobs</a> to ethical channels.&nbsp; Repetition and relatability can alleviate the mistrust migrants have towards <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/valuing-moral-migration">ethical recruitment practices</a>, and TikTok content can show migrant workers that responsible recruiters do exist.&nbsp; But there are limitations. Brokers that we encourage workers to bypass also have access to the same platform, or are in their proximity. It is also well-documented that even when workers do pay high fees, they have been made to sign documents or even make videos saying they have not paid. How not to be dismissed as just another fly-by-night is a challenge.&nbsp; Nagendra Kumar Sah was recently recruited by IMR, and told us that he was initially skeptical of video testimonies on TikTok about ethical recruitment, but the comment section helped him build trust. Candidates who speak on camera may have been coerced to do so, but the comments pouring in from all over the world can share experiences about how much was paid and to whom. Such unsolicited feedback in the comments section can be powerful reviews of recruiters or employers.&nbsp; <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/video/7519133141756333334">Intentionally opening the ‘room’</a> for discussion to counter the disbelief and mistrust has sometimes worked for our TikTok account. The platform can also help understand public sentiments better. <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab/playlist/Livable%20wages%20in%20Nepal-7524610442360670998">What wages would make living in Nepal affordable</a>, for example, is a common question that generates a lot of engagement.&nbsp; Awareness raising on its own does not amount to much, though. Knowing about ethical recruitment does not necessarily improve a migrant’s situation if the only available overseas jobs require a hefty fee.&nbsp; Workers who pay Rs400,000, even when they know better, face the same debt traps and diminished returns as those who do not. And the already small number of ethical drives in Nepal have <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/fee-free-migration-is-possible">shrunk significantly</a> after Malaysia closed its doors to foreign workers. &nbsp; In an ideal world, if there was a critical mass of zero or low cost recruitment opportunities in the market, our social media efforts would have been more interesting because we could then try to generate upward pressure from workers so they only select the best opportunities and agencies. Already, there are some workers who waited for ethical recruitment without applying for jobs that required fees. In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/free-visa-free-ticket-policy-in-limbo?%2F">current climate in which employers</a> themselves do not abide by the employer-pays principle, the best we can hope for is that it at least makes people a little intentional and mindful while choosing their migration journey — think twice, do research, explore all avenues and not blindly rely on fraudulent middlemen. The <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@migrationlab?lang=en">Migration Lab TikTok account</a> recently hit the 100,000 followers milestone. The platform is wildly unpredictable: one of our early videos that was quickly put together on a phone took off, and far outperformed carefully edited posts.&nbsp; Our first ‘viral’ moment on TikTok was a lesson not to overthink it and just post if it is relevant to our work.&nbsp; We want to be more intentional about leveraging the platform to promote good migration, shape thoughtful narratives and tell good stories. Without being too serious about it lest the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tiktok-has-taken-nepal-by-storm?%2F=">TikTok algorithm </a>picks up on it, and punishes us. Upasana Khadka heads <a href="https://www.migration-lab.com/">Migration Lab</a>, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Upasana Khadka

Real migration stories on TikTok

This is the 63rd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. <h2>Mani Prasad Gurung&nbsp;</h2> When <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/11-56-25-april-2015-wkc9q2an">the earthquake </a>hit, I was in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bhaktapur-2-0-d8m66qhb">Bhaktapur</a> for work. My friend who had driven us from Kathmandu was so scared after the earthquake that he was shaking and was unable to drive as his arms were too weak. So I took the driver’s seat as we headed back to Kathmandu. Perhaps <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/you-must-be-having-so-much-fun-there">living in Japan </a>for almost a decade meant that I was more used to the shaking. Many around me were panicking. Thankfully, I managed to call my family immediately after the earthquake and found out they were safe before the phones got disconnected. After reaching Kathmandu through <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/from-nowhere-to-nowhere">damaged roads</a>, everyone was outside their houses and scared because of the frequent <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/seismological-Centre-2015-earthquake,2230">aftershocks</a>. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_cf8b3dd9420c9a36528eb8ed93de4275b6b3ebc702de51bab6f63635294fdb66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025041905048_cf8b3dd9420c9a36528eb8ed93de4275b6b3ebc702de51bab6f63635294fdb66" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  I am originally from Bahundanda in Lamjung. It was difficult to reach people on the phone, but we did what we could to stay updated. Recently, we took it upon ourselves to rebuild one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-with-the-old-in-nepal">historic temples</a> that had been destroyed by the earthquake. It will be inaugurated this week on 19 April, ten years after it collapsed. Over 320 people from Lamjung now living in the US, Australia, Japan, Qatar and Saudi Arabia as well as various parts of Nepal contributed. It is a collective effort of hundreds of individuals attached to our village.&nbsp; <h2>Sitaram Giri&nbsp;</h2> I worked in Dubai for seven years, starting out as a construction helper before my boss hired me as his personal driver since he liked my work and trusted me. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">Life was all right overseas</a>, I suppose. But coming home for a two-month break after five years abroad and spending time with my children, I just did not want to be away again. I wanted to come home to Nepal. I am not sure what changed, but my heart just was not in Dubai. I dragged myself to stay on for 2.5 more years before finally deciding to call it quits in 2015. I had driving skills, so I could use that to find a job in Nepal. &nbsp; I stayed in Kathmandu for a few days and headed to my village in<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-the-deluge-in-nepal"> Sindhupalchok </a>to help out on the farm. I was having my morning meal one day exactly ten years ago, when everything started shaking. I ran outside just as my home collapsed in a cloud of dust.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_75d4425924ced5f17656e62ffcec00ba5f76c790871adb3186b70edd84256106.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025041905048_75d4425924ced5f17656e62ffcec00ba5f76c790871adb3186b70edd84256106" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  People were screaming that there were children buried <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/miracle-boy-six-years-after-nepal-quake">under the rubble</a>. I lost my grandmother, but could rescue my nephew from a collapsed building. We tried to dig out as many people as we could while consoling those who lost family members and helping with the funerals. Many survivors lost their livestock. The earthquake struck just a few days after my return to Nepal. It was God who brought me back to be with my family. If I was abroad, I would be in so much stress. As it is, my children were in Kathmandu, and it was difficult for me to reach them. But they were safe.&nbsp; Being in my village also meant I could help my neighbours. Friends from abroad sent us support for reconstruction. With that, some of my own savings, a government grant and some loans, I eventually rebuilt my house for Rs700,000. It did cross my mind that I might have to migrate for work again, but I also had this जति गरेनी एस्तै हो feeling that it would not make a difference. After years of hard work overseas to build my home, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/born-again-after-the-earthquake">the earthquake</a> destroyed it in seconds – as if the house never even existed. I lost my phone in the quake. In it were all my photos from Dubai. <h2>Subhash Acharya</h2> I worked in Iraq for 32 months, and again in Saudi Arabia for 44 months before heading back to Nepal where I now run an electronic shop. My economic situation made me decide to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-survivors-migrate-for-work">migrate</a>, but I chose Iraq because my brother was there. I was in Saudi Arabia when the earthquake struck Nepal in 2015. I saw images of destruction online, Dharara had collapsed and there was death and devastation everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_b3bdafb2128e7fe3c7fca28e08ed2881fcb4b87f8ceb6958b7e2893c930e22b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025041905048_b3bdafb2128e7fe3c7fca28e08ed2881fcb4b87f8ceb6958b7e2893c930e22b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  I worried because if that was what happened to Kathmandu, my home village in Sindhupalchok would also have been affected. Indeed, when I got in touch with my family four hours later, I learnt that there was nothing left of my home but the first floor. Thankfully, everyone was alive. I already had a return ticket for Nepal for my vacation after a week so I decided to come home as planned. If I did not have a ticket, I would have bought one for the very next day. My family was safe, so I decided to stay in a tent for two months. Everyone around us was affected. My friends and company in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/saudi-labour-reforms-to-benefit-nepalis">Saudi Arabia </a>helped me and my colleagues who bore losses. When overseas, we help each other during times of trouble like medical or family emergencies. We pool funds and chip in however much we can, whatever we can manage. This time I was at the receiving end. In addition to the SAR2,000 ($540) from my company, I received about $1,000 from my fellow workers from India, Bangladesh, and Philippines. I was really very touched by their generosity. <h2>Gopal Theeng Tamang</h2> I was an undocumented security guard in Malaysia when I heard about the earthquake that shook Nepal in 2015. My mind immediately went to my brother and sister-in-law in Sindhupalchok which was badly affected. The rest of my family was in Kathmandu, and were safe. But I could not reach my brother and his wife. Calls were not going through the first few days. When I finally made contact, I learnt that their house had collapsed completely.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041905048_3fffd2700ba545e7b462bd77f2f91e252c364e81c2b9bfbe59c88ea7e132a754.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025041905048_3fffd2700ba545e7b462bd77f2f91e252c364e81c2b9bfbe59c88ea7e132a754" data-rendition-name="original" width="540" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="DD 63"> </figure>  They had built this home with their lifetime of earnings. My sister-in-law would cry on the phone, and I tried to help my brother in whatever small way I could. A group of us in Malaysia also organised a small campaign to raise funds to buy rice for families in our village. As security guards in Malaysia, we had to work long hours. I had 12 hour night shifts, and even though a disaster had struck my home country, duty called. &nbsp; My brother has rebuilt a smaller tin-roofed house. I left Malaysia and emigrated to Iraq for five years where I worked as a housekeeper, waiter and then barista. I moved back to Nepal for good two years ago.

When disaster strikes home

&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.

"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

Nepal showed inconsistent performance at the T20 World Cup 2026 in Mumbai with flashes of brilliance, but ultimately snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rhinos-hit-the-ground-running">near-win against England</a>, a test cricket team by an associate country, in the opening game showed promise and suggested that Nepal’s cricket was on the cusp of glory. The Nepal Premier League and a flawless performance in the qualifiers had raised hopes that perhaps the Rhinos could progress out of the group stage. However, subsequent losses against newcomers Italy and the West Indies were harsh reality checks about the true state of the game: there is a lot of catching up to do in the present, and structural changes to put in place to win big in the future. Head Coach Stuart Law summed it all up quite harshly: “To go from that high to then go to an extreme low four days later, that’s not showing mental toughness.” He was worried about the distraction of social media and lack of focus among players: “When you’re in cricket, do your cricket. It’s a difficult one for me because I’m a social media dinosaur, I don’t understand it. You don’t have to keep showing your face if we’re winning games.” Finally a late-night win against Scotland on Tuesday redeemed some of Nepal’s pride. A strong opening partnership, yet another rugged Dipendra Singh Airee innings and Sompal Kami’s vindictive 3 for 25 helped Nepal beat Scotland in their last group game at the T20 World Cup.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  There was nothing riding on the game but honour, it means at least that Nepal do not crash out on zero. The game ebbed and flowed. Scotland started well and looked set to score 200 before collapsing in the end at 170. The Nepal batting effort also started out well, but in the middle overs after some wickets had fallen, it looked like the team was whimpering out again. Boundaries dried up, the run rate creeped up to almost 13, before Airee and Jha woke up and took charge and got to 171 with a few balls to spare. The dhaka topi crowd in the stands loved it. A big part of the reason Nepal’s performance was so much better against England than in the other games was the mentality going in. Against England, Nepal were clear underdogs and could play freely. Even a nasty defeat would have been forgiven. Against newcomers Italy, these roles were flipped. Fans and perhaps the players underestimated Italy, a nation much better known for its football culture. But it had put together a smart, experienced team made up of Italian cricketers with South African, Australian, English, Indian, Pakistani and Sri Lankan heritage. And Nepal may have won a series against West Indies last year, but against the full strength Caribbean squad they were easily beaten.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  Another key difference is that Nepal was batting second against England. Against Italy and the West Indies, having to set a target rather than chase it, there was miserable batting failure. The front of the order — openers Kushal Bhurtel and Aasif Sheikh, captain Rohit Poudel — did not pace themselves well. They started much too slow, not able to take advantage of the first six powerplay overs. Airee’s 58 and Sompal Kami’s 26 off 11 against the West Indies were the only innings of any note. The middle order of Bam, Jha, Aarif Sheikh was not much better. Nepal really struggled with the ball too in that game, taking the one wicket against the West Indies and none against Italy. Of course, it is a huge ask of your bowling attack to defend anything below 150 in the modern T20 game. There were questionable tactical choices. Early wickets are essential when defending a low score. But key wicket taker Sandeep Lamichhane was not brought on until the middle overs, when the opponents had made too many runs to feel any fear. So they took him on and he had a really poor tournament, going for a lot of runs.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  To captain Poudel’s credit, he acknowledged the bad showing against Italy: “It was not a 123 all-out wicket. We are professionals and not turning up for the game was disappointing.” Coach Law thinks that Nepal is going to get to the next step. If the team is ambitious, and hopes to compete at the elite level, then it cannot celebrate a loss against England. If it wants to win consistently, it has to shed the ‘Cardiac Kids’ nickname. It is better to win than to be fun to watch but lose. The T20 game is so brisk and so it is often won in the margins. Good catching and fielding can create momentum and save a team the 5, 10 runs that win the game. Nepal were uncharacteristically poor in the field against Italy and West Indies, often fumbling and leaking boundaries. Airee didn’t get any of his usual run-outs either. Nepal lost cheap wickets through run-outs and stumpings. All these unforced errors right through the match add up on the scoreboard.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  SKILL SET Mentality is important but sport performance ultimately comes down to skill. There looked to be a large gap, and perhaps one of the reasons is because the Nepal team is so full of all-rounders. Airee’s two-way performance is undeniable, but Bhurtel, Paudel and Karan KC do plenty of both too and they do not do it super well very often. If the team wants to get consistent, it must have consistent performers with the bat and ball. That calls for some of these players to focus completely on one skill over the other. You do not see openers bowling so much in the top teams as Bhurtel does. The main reason for this skill gap, and one of the hardest parts about being an associate nation, is how little cricket the members of the team play compared to the test nations. Said Stuart Law: “The longer format is where you learn how to play the game. The shorter formats are where you have your fun. We need some sort of multi-day games.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  The contrast in experience showed during the Italy game. Most of the members of the Italy team were well into their thirties, had played a high volume of domestic cricket and were more self-assured. So, while the young Nepali team were more athletic, they seemed to lack the skill and experience to know what to do when things were going wrong. The Italians seemed to go about their game with a lot more self assurance. In the long run, this means setting up grassroot structures, getting kids into formal training when young, and setting up a longer format domestic league. In the short term, CAAN could organise frequent series with other associate nations, and individual athletes could go play long form club cricket abroad. Surely some team in the world has to have a spot for a player like Airee, for example. It has been Airee’s tournament. Scores of 44 v England, 58 v West Indies, and now a match-winning 50 against Scotland that gives the travelling Nepali support something to cheer for. The tournament could have been a lot more, but it is wholesome to end on a win.

Nepal goes in and out of T20

After his critically acclaimed 2023 book of essays सुन्यताको मुल्य on the state of women and children in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">Karnali</a>, paediatrician and writer Nawaraj KC has come out with a next one, Swasparsh. The new book is almost a sequel to the first one, with real-life stories drawn from his medical practice and social engagement. Both are powerful accounts of suffering, resilience, and the search for human dignity in Nepal’s most remote and underserved districts. The book opens with deeply disturbing yet real incidents of the suicide of a Grade 2 student. A &nbsp;frantic mother rushes in with a son who had already written a suicide note but was saved at the last moment. There is a desperate call from a young woman threatening to jump into the Karnali River.&nbsp; We meet children carrying immense trauma: a toddler who refuses to eat after losing her mother, and another child who stops speaking after experiencing sexual abuse within the family. The emotional climax comes when KC himself falls into depression after being violently attacked by a drug addict patient, leaving him with a serious head injury.&nbsp; But this is not a book of only sad stories of deprivation and poverty. It is how people who find themselves in the worst circumstances struggle to overcome what life has thrown their way, and triumph in the end. By just surviving against all odds, people emerge stronger, often with a renewed commitment to helping others. As a paediatrician working out of his native Surkhet in Karnali Province, KC's work brings him face-to-face with the human side of what a centralised government’s neglect and apathy can do to communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-dasain-in-kalikot">Nepal’s most far-flung region</a>. KC shows empathy not just to human beings in trouble, but also animals and underlines the importance of coexisting with the natural world. By helping others individuals ultimately help themselves. Although a paediatrician by profession, KC demonstrates a deep understanding of structural oppression, gender discrimination, caste hierarchy, class inequality, and regional marginalisation within the Nepali state.&nbsp; He also captures moments of tenderness, such as young couples supporting one another through hardship. How poverty can drive families to take heartbreaking decisions — like a patient forced to discontinue life-saving medicine in order to qualify for disability allowances needed to repay debt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1646" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  A former teacher is forced to beg despite receiving treatment, exposing the failure of conventional development models that ignore sustainable livelihoods.&nbsp; Then there are inspirational stories like the one of Mandire, who ran away at age 12 to work as a labourer in India, suffered severe burns while unloading coal, and lost a hand. Despite this, his infectious smile and fortitude transformed him into a local symbol of hope both in India and Nepal.&nbsp; Even in old age, he is always smiling and helping others less fortunate.&nbsp; Through Mandire’s story, KC explores the science of the healing power of a smile, the positive psychology of a ‘mental gymnasium’ in which optimism is cultivated through conscious practice.&nbsp; For example, a young girl from the historically marginalised Badi community which faces deep social exclusion refuses to accept her circumstances, and grows into an advocate for other disadvantaged children. A devoted foster mother dedicates her life to raising orphans, empowering them despite her own hardships. One of the book’s strengths lies in its accessibility. In Nepali language, KC blends science, philosophy, and lived experience into everyday language that resonates with villagers and ordinary readers. He comes across not only as a doctor and healer, but also as a teacher, nature lover, and social activist. He tries to introduce greenery to a remote school, and how this transformed children’s learning experience. He reflects that his patients are his greatest teachers helping to expand knowledge beyond medicine and technology into the realms of humanity and ethics. I read Swasparsh after witnessing the recent GenZ movement. The book’s recurring calls to youth, appearing at the end of several chapters, has special relevance today. KC reminds young readers that hardship is part of everyday life, but within struggle lies the potential for healing and growth.&nbsp; He encourages self-reflection, self-healing, and cultivating a positive mindset. Above all, he asserts that humanity’s greatest gift is its own human capacity henceforth solutions to all problems lie within oneselves rather than outside forces. The GenZ movement represents an urban youth revolt against traditional political parties and state institutions that have failed to deliver opportunities and accountability. Rising unemployment, widespread corruption, and frustration with stagnant governance have fuelled demands for new political alternatives.&nbsp; With the 5 March election less than three weeks away, many young people hope that new forces will be capable of bringing systemic change. Yet whether these forces can truly meet their aspirations remains uncertain. Established political actors are reluctant to relinquish power, while emerging groups often lack organisational depth and historical experience. In many ways, these new political actors resemble the people of Karnali: resource-poor, And in the periphery of power, yet rich in commitment and determination. Drawing from Buddhist teachings that recognise suffering, understanding its causes, and seeking pathways to overcome it, KC indirectly inspires today’s youth. Every problem contains the seeds of its own solution, provided we learn to know ourselves, care for ourselves, and care for others. Ultimately, the title Swasparsh means self-healing, self-reflection, and self-confidence. At a time of political uncertainty and generational change, this book speaks directly to Nepal’s younger and the emerging alternative forces — reminding them that transformation begins from within.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  Hisila Yami served as CA member, Minister of Physical Planning &amp; Works, Minister of Tourism &amp; Minister of Land Reform. At present, she is a member of Central Political Council in Pragatishil Loktantrik Party and is a lecturer in IOE Pulchok.

Essays on self-realisation and self-healing

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

There is a growing tendency to frame Nepal’s current political turmoil primarily through the language of Foreign Hands.
Across talk circuits and commentary today, Nepal’s unfolding crisis is increasingly being explained through external influence —foreign powers, hidden backers, geopolitical plots.
In a tense regional environment, this framing is understandable, but it also risks becoming a convenient shortcut. By looking outward first, it subtly shifts attention away from the harder, less comfortable work political parties and institutions have long postponed: internal reform, accountability, and rule-bound governance.
Three collapses in three decades and seven constitutions in as many decades should force us to pause for self-reflection. Add to this nearly thirty changes of government in just as many years.&nbsp;
Nepal’s democratic century, which began in 1950, has been marked by repeated conflicts, transitions, and crises. Not all of these can be explained by — or blamed on — &nbsp;forces from outside. This persistent finger pointing pattern indicates structural weaknesses at home.
Long before the September GenZ uprising, many observers (including myself) had been warning that Nepal was approaching a tipping point.&nbsp;
The concern was not foreign interference, but accumulated internal fragility: weak checks and balances, cartel-like party arrangements, politicised constitutional bodies, episodic accountability, and the near absence of credible, nonpartisan civic watchdogs.&nbsp;
Together, these produced a system operating at the edge of collapse. In such systems, small triggers — a protest, a ban, a spark — can produce cascading effects far beyond their immediate cause.
Explaining this rupture mainly through foreign influence can feel reassuring, but it ultimately absolves domestic actors of responsibility. External pressures do exist, but they become decisive only when internal institutions are already hollowed out and exposed.&nbsp;
When institutions are weak and compromised, outside forces stop dealing with the state as an institution and begin negotiating directly with individual political powerbrokers. At that point, sovereignty erodes quietly — not through invasion, but through leverage.
This is why the current obsession with identifying external hands risks missing the deeper lesson. The more revealing symptom may not be foreign maneuvering, but the ease with which, for example, militant cadres, informal networks, and extra-institutional actors are able to step in and exert influence, right under our nose during this election cycle. This is just the tip of the ever fragile institutional iceberg that needs tending.
CADRE MACHINES
As some have recently noted, these 'cadre machines' are not causes of the crisis so much as indicators of a broken system — filling a vacuum left by institutional decay.
Nepal’s deeper challenge, therefore, is not denying or ignoring outside influence. It is rebuilding the internal capacity that makes such influence less consequential: credible institutions, internal party democracy, transparent rules, and steady and independent civic oversight that operates beyond election cycles. Without this foundation, every crisis will continue to invite external interpretation — and external leverage.
Several recent essays on my Nepal Unplugged newsletter may be of interest to some: why Nepal’s current crisis is better understood through internal institutional fragility than through the language of 'foreign hands'. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Alok K. Bohara, PhD, is Emeritus Professor of Economics at the University of New Mexico, and writes his newsletter <a href="https://substack.com/@nepalunplugged">Nepal Unplugged</a> as an independent observer on Nepal’s socio-economic and political landscape. &nbsp;

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