Philanthropy will never replace<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/uk-aid-for-nepal-s-covid-affected-mp4ab6lw"> public aid</a>, but it can be a powerhouse if we use it right. With global development funding under strain, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/e75-million-eu-aid-to-nepal-for-covid-19-ckmyfbkq">European aid</a> budgets being redirected toward defence and rearmament, and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/how-usaid-cut-affects-nepal">United States rethinking foreign assistance</a> altogether, the aid community has been left scrambling.
The reactions so far have been of two kinds: calls for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/philanthropy-in-the-time-of-pandemic">philanthropy</a> to fill the gap, and moralising statements shaming governments for stepping back. Unfortunately, the first is unrealistic, and the second is ineffective.&nbsp;
Private donors cannot solve systemic <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/our-uncommon-future">global challenges</a> alone, and telling politicians that they are morally bankrupt generally does not bring them around to your side. Instead, we need to meet policymakers where they are, sharpen our arguments, and focus on what actually works. The hard truth is that most <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/foreign-aid-policy-to-balance-infrastructure-investment-with-social-sector-investment">government aid</a> is not even designed for effectiveness, because it prioritises processes over results. Nor has philanthropy been immune to this impulse.
In early years at the Eleanor Crook Foundation, we funded holistic, multisectoral programs that tried to tackle all causes of malnutrition simultaneously. But the results were underwhelming. The approach looked good on paper, but produced no measurable improvements in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-epidemic-of-hunger">malnutrition</a>. So, we learned from that failure and changed course. Now, we direct our funding where the evidence is strongest and the results most immediate.&nbsp;
At the recent Nutrition for Growth (N4G) Summit in Paris, we announced a $50 million commitment, alongside $200 million from other donors, to scale up one of the most cost-effective interventions in global health: prenatal vitamins – known as multiple micronutrient supplements (MMS). This funding will go toward a $1 billion roadmap to ensure access to MMS for pregnant women no matter where they live.
The science on this issue is unequivocal. MMS replaces outdated iron and folic acid (IFA) tablets still given to many pregnant women in low-income countries. With MMS, women receive 15 nutrients, instead of just two, leading to a dramatic reduction in maternal anemia, stillbirth, and low birth weight. The estimated economic returns are $37 for every $1 invested while infant mortality is reduced by nearly one-third.
The global inequities in maternal health are profound. In London, a pregnant woman routinely has access to comprehensive prenatal vitamins. In Lagos, she might receive IFA, or nothing at all. The difference reflects a gap in will, not knowledge. Ending such disparities does not require a scientific breakthrough, just greater investment in already proven solutions.
More than two decades of research, three Lancet studies, and multiple World Bank investment cases have identified roughly ten nutrition interventions that are consistently underfunded despite their proven efficacy. These are not flashy, multisector, utopian initiatives. They are targeted, evidence-based programs that can be implemented immediately to deliver measurable results.
Solutions like breastfeeding support, Vitamin A supplementation, prenatal vitamins, and ready-to-use foods for severely malnourished children belong to a package of interventions that could save at least two million lives over five years if scaled up in nine high-burden countries. Such life-changing results would cost just $887 million per year.
Malnutrition is now the leading driver of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16505">child mortality</a> globally, contributing to some three million deaths in 2023 alone. These are not mysterious tragedies. They are predictable and in many cases cost little to prevent. In a world that routinely sends tourists to space, we obviously can afford to ensure that all <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-one-nepali-mother-at-a-time">pregnant women</a> have access to a $2 bottle of vitamins.
This year’s N4G Summit may be the last of its kind. It was part of a summit series linked to the Olympics, which will next be hosted by the US. With the current <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/trump-s-second-coming">US administration </a>already signaling that it will not continue the tradition, recent commitments made in Paris have gained new urgency. Vague pledges and political posturing will no longer do.
We are not asking governments to spend like they used to. Rather, we are urging them to look at the evidence and use their remaining budgets for official <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/small-is-bountiful?fbclid=IwAR0wRoEdhgYO9qATGiukFQvK2fE6N8rCDZ4CBJBdkTC6_Es-6_mdVHldlic">development assistance</a> to scale up proven, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-is-still-possible">cost-effective solutions</a>. A modest investment in MMS – representing less than the cost of one week of G7 countries’ defense spending – could save 600,000 lives.
Even with constrained budgets, we have a chance to save millions of lives. But only if we stop trying to do everything, and focus instead on what is the right thing to do.
William Moore is the CEO of the Eleanor Crook Foundation and Chair of Stronger Foundations for Nutrition.

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Philanthropy in an era of declining development aid

James Harris (‘Jim’) Simons, the mathematician and billionaire philanthropist who set up a foundation to improve Nepal’s healthcare system, died in New York on 10 May, aged 86. Jim Simons was an award-winning mathematician who pioneered quantitative investing and gave away much of his billions to support mathematics education, scientific research and various humanitarian causes. But his life was marked by family tragedies. His elder son, Paul, was killed in New York in 1996 in a traffic accident, and his younger son, Nick drowned in Bali in 2003 after a volunteering stint in Nepal.&nbsp; Nick Simons had written letters home from Nepal about his experience in rural health posts, and was determined to become a physician so he could help the underprivileged in poorer parts of the world.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511120528_08e9e9ec5b9faa6a852fb5a4b5a8586526935cb8a9c8c61fd329fb8e4d7466e4.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240511120528_08e9e9ec5b9faa6a852fb5a4b5a8586526935cb8a9c8c61fd329fb8e4d7466e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="596" height="812" loading="lazy" alt="Nick Simons"> <figcaption>Nick Simons with a friend in Nepal in 2003. He died soon after while swimming in Bali.</figcaption> </figure>  After Nick’s tragic death, Jim Simons and his economist wife Marilyn travelled to Nepal several times to set up the <a href="https://www.nsi.edu.np/overview" target="_blank">Nick Simons Institute (NSI)</a> to back up government hospitals in rural areas with training, equipment and budgetary support. Since it was established in 2006, NSI has invested more than $100 million in Nepal’s health sector and now supports 45 district hospitals and health facilities. Most of the institute’s work is behind-the-scenes and not visible to the public, like its help with training nurses and anaesthesiologists, maintaining biomedical equipment, and in retaining qualified medical staff in remote rural hospitals by topping up salaries. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11436" target="_blank">Jim Simons once told Nepali Times</a>: "Rural health care is not a new problem in Nepal, and there are lots of people addressing the issue. What makes NSI unique is that it will do this job better than it has ever been done with an emphasis on quality and training.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511020552_a9bbf2070d0ace34db48799e7c76f8f18a221750b5f2bcb5fda3a87b2eb97769.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240511020552_a9bbf2070d0ace34db48799e7c76f8f18a221750b5f2bcb5fda3a87b2eb97769" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons NT"> <figcaption>Marilyn and Jim Simons in Nepal in 2012. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Indeed, the Simons made several visits to Nepal in 2003 soon after their son died, talking to health experts to see where support would be most catalytic and meaningful. They decided to do this not by running their own hospitals, but by working with the government in developing sustainable solutions in rural healthcare and scaling it up. "With the establishment of the Nick Simon's Institute in 2006, Jim was clearly a game changer for enhancement of rural health in Nepal. &nbsp;Also what is unforgettable about Jim was his amazing sense of humor in telling a story, his sharp intellect, and how he did not suffer fools lightly," says <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18356" target="_blank">Buddha Basnyat</a>, a physician who is in the executive committee of NSI. The Simons often said they would probably never have been involved in Nepal’s health sector had it not been for their son Nick, who had found fulfilment helping Nepalis and wanted to return to live and work here.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511020556_761b7ed7926bbf26b24c5e8ab06df077019280451bc1d4efc5bd3c5d44e740bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240511020556_761b7ed7926bbf26b24c5e8ab06df077019280451bc1d4efc5bd3c5d44e740bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="904" height="1382" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons NT"> <figcaption>Marilyn and Jim Simons in Nepal in 2023 with Patty Weisenfeld of Nick Simons Foundation. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Jim Simons went through three phases in his life: as a mathematician, an investor and a philanthropist. As a maths professor, he found solutions that are still used to solve problems in physics and astronomy. He then set up <a href="https://www.rentec.com/Home.action?about=true" target="_blank">Renaissance Technologies</a> that used his talent in mathematics to analyse complex financial data and forecast global share markets. That is how he made billions, much of which he re-invested in improving STEM education in American schools, in exploring the universe, or trying to find the causes of autism.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240515170536_5ea1f3742ee715ce95ee11a82dfcc6991be56b827f5dff8d6c58824f836763e1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240515170536_5ea1f3742ee715ce95ee11a82dfcc6991be56b827f5dff8d6c58824f836763e1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1001" height="784" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons"> <figcaption>Health expert Aruna Uprety at a school algebra class in western Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  After the death of his sons, Jim Simons sought solace in solving mathematical puzzles in his head. One morning at the leafy Summit Hotel in Kathmandu, the proof came to him in a flash of a puzzle that had bedevilled him for a long time.&nbsp; ‘Jim was an exceptional leader who did transformative work in mathematics and developed a world-leading investment company,’ the <a href="https://www.simonsfoundation.org/2024/05/10/simons-foundation-co-founder-mathematician-and-investor-jim-simons-dies-at-86/" target="_blank">Simons Foundation</a> said in a statement announcing his death on Friday.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240515170536_e4c458bcc5f9daf7d8833bb0bffc98304224be100b88cde3ade7c7ae41067cd5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240515170536_e4c458bcc5f9daf7d8833bb0bffc98304224be100b88cde3ade7c7ae41067cd5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2008" height="1396" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons"> </figure>  Besides NSI, the <a href="https://www.nicksimonsfoundation.org/" target="_blank">Nick Simons Foundation</a> was involved in other health-related activities in Nepal, including building the new <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15138" target="_blank">maternity wing at Patan Hospital</a> and supporting <a href="https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank">Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN)</a> that runs <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-rural-lifeline" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital in Achham District.</a>&nbsp; Jim Simons once said: “Nick opened up a whole new world to us. We have met so many wonderful people who otherwise we never would have known. Nepal is a gift that Nick gave us.”

Kunda Dixit

Jim Simons' gift to Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121116/636b8c2d9c7e80680e06b2e5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1536"/><figcaption>Geshe Sonam Wangchen in a scooter helmet distributing meals this week in Boudhanath. Photos: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption></figure>The web of wrinkles are etched deep into the soft bronzed face, a lifetime of gritty wind and harsh realities on the Tibetan plateau, smiling out of the phone screen. Brightly painted furniture frame her long plaited hair in a dimly lit room in Kham, a distant eastern province of Tibet on the far side of the Himalaya.Her son, Geshe Sonam Wangchen, beams back with delight, adjusts his dusty maroon monk’s robes and waves the phone in excitement, returning joyous Losar messages as he bears his mother aloft on the small monitor through the sprawling family home on the northern rim of the Kathmandu Valley.“Hey guys, say hello to your aunt in Tibet!” My sons Sangjay and Rinchen, dressed in festive brocade-trimmed raw-silk shirts, are bent over the low sitting room table behind towers of chips playing poker with their uncles and cousins – cards are dispensed with a flourish, intense conspiratorial concentration and whispers erupt into laughter as the tension releases at the end of each round.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121116/636b8c329c7e80680e06b2e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Their grey-haired father and uncles are dressed more plainly in warm adventure gear and down waistcoats. Through the sliding glass doors, the light is fading pink. Engraved silver bowls laden with meat, nuts and dried fruit glow at their elbows. ‘Tashi delek and Happy New Year,’ they call to their cousin’s phone.Although only a couple of months ago, that afternoon seems like another era, BC (Before Corona). We have always regarded our nephew Sonam Wangchen as something of an unlikely hero, with flashes of saintliness. Ever since he returned in robes as Geshe after years of study for his advanced Buddhism degree at the transplanted Sera monastery on the steaming plains of Mysore, his life has been devoted to helping others in Nepal.No fuss, he just sees the need, hops on his battered scooter, and gets on with alleviating suffering in this imperfect world. The fourth son of my husband’s elder sister, he lived in the Tibet Children’s Village in Dharmasala before running away to become a monk. Serving as a translator for Sera’s leaders, Sonam Wangchen was known as Gelung for his selfless vows and aura of focussed compassion, attracting the admiration of donors who followed him and his tireless work to Kathmandu.For expediency on the job, Sonam Wangchen rearranges his robes with a utilitarian claret tee-shirt and red quilted jacket, topped with a bike helmet. Just like he used to hitch up his skirts to play a mean game of football with my boys in the garden during family gatherings.As a kid Sangjay collected money from college friends to assist the heroin detox centre in a modest Budhanilkantha house, and Rinchen saved pocket money to educate young children who had found shelter with him. After one visit I was haunted by an old man with a suppurating leg in a brace who had found refuge there, abandoned by his family.The scope of Sonam Wangchen’s work received a boost after the 2015 earthquakes when the quiet heroism of his Hope and Challenge NGO attracted ongoing support from donors inspired to make a difference though his hands-on achievements – mainly philanthropic individuals from around Asia, India and Nepal. His resolve never faltered, his grave, unflinching grin never far behind the sorrow.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121116/636b8c369c7e80680e06b2e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121116/636b8c399c7e80680e06b2e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Today, several expanded rehab centres offer drug and alcohol addiction treatment and counselling for inmates. From a humble rented room in Boudhanath, Geshe Sonam Wangchen and his NGO team provide drug prevention guidance in the Valley’s schools, medical advice and spiritual therapy. They run shelters for vulnerable aged people, and homes for children in need of protection and schooling.For many years one of their most effective and appreciated activities has been feeding the homeless and disabled, every day, around Boudhanath and Swayambhunath. Soon after lockdown last month, I called Geshe-la to see what was needed in these troubled times  – I imagine him impatiently fumbling amidst his dishevelled robes for the phone.“Hello Auntie” I wish he wouldn’t call me that, but his cheerful voice always makes me smile. “More food for the people who can’t find work,” was his immediate reply.The meal distribution stations operating on the streets of Boudhanath and Swayambhunath are overwhelmed with growing numbers of men, women and children turning up every day. They are not only handing out cooked meals, never turning anyone away, but also trying to provide care packages to sustain families – rice, dal and cooking oil.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/philanthropy-in-the-time-of-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Philanthropy in the time of pandemic,</a> Shristi KarkiAn email to Nepal-centric friends produced heart-warming results from both home and abroad – many relieved to contribute tangible assistance and to overcome our collective helplessness under these current constraints. Last night Sonam Wangchen called to thank me and the boys for generating extra funds, and sent a load of photos and videos of the suitably masked, socially-distanced, and hand-washing food lines. At dusk, our local hero was still busy.“Whoever wants to come they can come. It used to be homeless people for lunch, but now so many daily workers are hungry as they have no job  – it is very difficult. Many people are coming - we have to keep cooking from early morning to late evening. We are feeding over 1,000 people every day.”<a href="https://www.facebook.com/hopechallengeNepal" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.facebook.com/hopechallengeNepal&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1587474191180000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGb56H1RZ6ZYHQwGIhJZbLoA6fMbg">Hope and Challenge</a>Nepal Investment Bank Ltd, Boudha, Kathmandu, NepalAccount name: Hope and Challenge, NCRs account number: 02401030255974, Swift code: NIBLNPKT

Lisa Choegyal

Feeding 1,000 a day in Kathmandu

<figure><img width="1800" height="1472" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110912118/636b8afd9c7e80680e06b273jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: RSS</figcaption></figure>At <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/home-health-care-during-a-lockdown/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwid6dLzsd3oAhUQ8HMBHRP-BbUQFjAAegQIABAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw2O5915jE54QrAp88TUQt17" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Health at Home</a>  the phone lines open at 7am ever day. Within minutes the calls start coming in. Five volunteer doctors are online to take the average 500 calls a day from people all over the country concerned about coronavirus symptoms.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://dalle.com.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dalle Momo</a>, the dumpling company, prepares 250 meals a day at its central kitchen at Ratopul and distributes them to security personnel <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/confusion-persists-about-lockdown-rules/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">enforcing the lockdown</a> at intersections across Kathmandu, to frontline health workers at the Sukraraj Tropical and Infectious Disease Hospital in Teku, and homeless people in the Valley.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.zonta.org/Local-Action/Local-Service-Advocacy/Detail/zonta-club-of-kathmandu-hosts-event-to-honor-local-women-on-rose-day-2018" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Zonta Club of Kathmandu</a> also prepares food packages and has partnered with several NGOs to distribute daily 1,000 meals to daily-wage earners who are out of jobs. Each packet includes basic food items like rice, lentil, salt, sugar, tea, and oil.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/back-to-the-future-of-farming/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Back to the future of farming</a>, Editorial<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/work-for-food/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Work for food</a>, Anil ChitrakarThe private sector and non-profit organisations have all been stepping up their activities to help security forces, health workers and daily-wage workers since the nation-wide lockdown began on 24 March.Bishal Dhakal, founder of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/caring-for-those-who-cared/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Health at Home</a>,  says he started the call-in service since people across the country -- especially those in rural areas with no direct access to doctors, decided to set up a telephone triage service so that people can get a free counseling from medical professionals about their symptoms. Health at Home partnered with Ncell so that the incoming calls can be free.At a time when <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/awareness-high-among-nepalis-about-virus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">public concern about the pandemic is high</a>  the service has not only been a way for people to talk to doctors about their symptoms, but also a source of reassurance.“It has become like a counselling platform,” Dhakal says of the telephone triage. “This has been a support network for people in that it has helped with people dealing with the anxiety and stress that they might be feeling during this time.”<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/awareness-high-among-nepalis-about-virus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Awareness high among Nepalis about virus</a>The call-in service helps screen <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/returnees-may-be-taking-coronavirus-to-rural-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">potential COVID-19 patients</a> for testing and take the pressure off of hospitals as they tend to get overcrowded with patients suspecting they have the coronavirus, which in turn increases the risk of infections spreading more widely. <figure><img width="640" height="489" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121112/636b8b009c7e80680e06b274jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="486" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121112/636b8b039c7e80680e06b275jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Subhash Gauchan, co-founder of Dalle Momo, says his company began providing meals with the intention of using its remaining stock of raw material to feed whomever they could instead of letting it go to waste. But then it evolved into something bigger.“A lot of people have come forward and asked how they could help,” Gauchan told Nepali Times over the phone. “They have been stepping up to provide fresh vegetables, which is what we need the most. So, we decided that we would continue doing this for as long as we are able.”Although Nepal seems to have been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/could-an-anti-tb-vaccine-be-protecting-nepalis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">spared from a more aggressive spread of the coronavirus so far</a>,  Nepalis are set to be significantly affected financially by the pandemic, with daily-wage workers bearing the brunt of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-relief-package/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the economic fallout</a>. Non-profits like the Zonta Club of Kathmandu have been reaching out to daily wage workers affected by the lockdown.Zonta’s Kamal Kesari Tuladhar says people have constantly been reaching out to offer help and that they were able to raise Rs1.5 million in 2 days. “My initial target was 300 food packages, but the response has been so overwhelming that we are distributing 1,000. As long as the help keeps coming, we will continue this, because people need it.” <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/common-sense-is-uncommon-in-fighting-covid-19/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Common sense is uncommon in fighting COVID-19</a>, Anil Chitrakar <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121112/636b8b069c7e80680e06b276jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Siddhant Pandey, CEO of the private equity company <a href="https://bo2.com.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Business Oxygen</a>,  says private sector philanthropy is more important than ever in these unprecedented times. But some companies that have tried to gain widespread publicity from their ‘corporate social responsibility’ have been trolled in social media for seeking promotion mileage rather than genuinely helping.But Pandey says that while some companies might be stepping up their philanthropic efforts  for publicity, it does encourage others to come forward and to provide help as well.“At this point, we need to think rationally,” says Pandey. “Providing urgent food, services, information, and medical equipment is the need of the hour right now.”

Shristi Karki

Philanthropy in the time of pandemic

https://youtu.be/TjoXT_Pu2koWith its new highway to the north, Surkhet has become the gateway to the Karnali and is morphing into a boomtown. But 10 minutes out of the dusty, bustling city nestled amidst a terraced landscape, the Kopila Valley School (KVS) is a functioning model for the rest of Nepal on how schools should be built and administered.At a time when progress is marked by the rise of glass and concrete structures, the school employs rammed-earth technology with an ecofriendly philosophy that uses local materials for construction, harnesses the sun and sewage for energy, harvests rainwater and minimises waste.But even founder Maggie Doyne at first needed convincing by architect Prabal Thapa to accept a mud design for the buildings. Her vision of an environment-friendly school was one made of bamboo, like the Green School she had seen in Bali.“Look, we’re not in Bali,” Thapa told her. “We are in Nepal, and Nepal is known for mountains. With rammed earth, you’re making mountains.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-was-a-learning-experience-for-nepals-schools/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Quake was a learning experience for Nepal’s schools</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lowest common denominator</a>, Editorial<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41ae9c7e80680e04a68cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1049"/><figcaption>All photos: SHEILIN TEO</figcaption></figure>Rammed earth provides excellent thermal mass to keep temperature stable indoors, it uses local material and labour, the structure is durable and easy to maintain. The walls are nearly 0.5m thick, and reinforced with steel and concrete banding for seismic resistance.“We wanted the school to feel Nepali through and through, to stay true to local architecture that is so stunningly beautiful,” explains Doyne, showing us around the campus.The two-storey school blocks are simple and rectangular, with gabled roofs, breezy stairwells, and are connected by corridors on one side, much like traditional farmhouses in Nepal. The buildings are designed as modular blocks that can be arranged in various ways to suit the landscape and functions required by the school. The simplicity and repeatability of the modules were important considerations to allow ease of building by unskilled local labourers, many of them women trained on the job.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41b19c7e80680e04a68djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5000" height="1784"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Standing within the grounds, it becomes clear why buildings were sited as they were: they form a protective coterie around a central sports court and create ancillary terraces where children play. The topography creates opportunities for passive surveillance from the administrative block that sits towards the top of the sloping site, and plenty of gathering and resting places along stone-lined steps that double as bleachers overlooking play areas and gardens. When children pour out of their classrooms, they tumble across the sports court and down the stairs, bobbing along ramps that slice across the school’s terrace walls brightly coloured in house colours of reds, blues, yellows and greens.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19495#.XOah1BYzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bhaktapur</a>, Lukas Grimm<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12450#.XOahzhYzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Mud, glorious mud</a>, Nripal Adhikari“Construction was so difficult, and the only thing that got us through the really hard moments was knowing that one day there would be kids in these classrooms,” Doyne says, explaining that complications in scheduling, budgets and differences of opinion about expectations and work values of intercultural and international teams proved to be challenges.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41b49c7e80680e04a68ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2500" height="2174"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The project is not just a simple school. Strengthened with steel, stabilised with cement and concrete, fitted with high performance, durable windows, the school buildings called for experience and skills beyond those required by a traditional project. More advanced, outside-the-box technology gives the campus an edge of self-sufficiency, ease of maintenance and durability.Green technology comes at a cost, with lengthy payback periods that are possibly out of reach of most other schools in Nepal, but are easily adaptable to the local context: filtration systems, biogas, rainwater harvesting by Smart Paani, and solar systems by Sun Farmer. At Kopila, all these design elements are integrated in the school’s new buildings, their functions and terrain, giving the school its green edge.“I feel that this campus has so much integrity. Every step of the way, we made decisions that were sometimes hard, or that had cost implications, or we had to forgo certain things in order to have others, but there’s nothing I would change,” says Doyne.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/learning-from-nepals-past-to-rebuild-its-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Learning from Nepal’s past to rebuild its future</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lost-in-reconstruction/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lost in reconstruction</a>, Shiva UpretyThis approach is not limited to the physical design of the school; its curriculum is also grounded in place-based learning that adapts Nepal’s national curriculum to the school’s philosophy. Principal Naim Chaudhari explains: “It is about trying to integrate what we find in the community, what we can learn from and what we can give back to it. After all, when the children graduate they go into the community and they will live there. That is where they will grow further.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41b89c7e80680e04a68fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">The school has a farm and a vocational focus, and the students learn at least one skill each year from among cooking, washing, cleaning, driving, farming, agro-forestry, animal husbandry, horticulture, welding, woodwork, machine work and electrical skills.“When our children graduate from here, they should either go for further studies or be able to find a job,” says Chaudhari.The school includes Grades 1-10 and an Early Childhood Village that focuses on self-learning through play and exploration. The older ‘plus-two’ students are still in an old bamboo school by the highway, but there are plans to bring them into the new buildings.The school’s design allows the new classrooms to blend into the greenery, preserving the productive fruiting trees on site. Just as village life still clings to the fringes of Surkhet, the school’s program extends to the students’ families, farms and the community.“We are a full service community school,” Doyne explains. “It is not just for the kids who study here — we want to bring the community in. This buildings belong to them, and I hope it makes them think about what they ultimately build someday. Just like Bali inspired Kopila, I hope that there will be other schools like this in Nepal, because this one existed.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Class struggle</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/building-back-cheaper-and-stronger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Building back cheaper and stronger</a>, Sapana Shakya and Aman Raj KhatakhoMaggie's missionIn 2005 when she was 19, Maggie Doyne was trekking in Nepal when she met Hima, a child worker. That started Doyne's Nepal journey, and her efforts to help children go to school eventually expanded to setting up Kopila Valley School and its sister initiatives in Surkhet.Doyne was named the 2014 Unsung Hero of Compassion, awarded by the Dalai Lama, and won the 2015 CNN Hero of the Year Award. Kopila is funded by The BlinkNow Foundation, a non-profit Doyne founded in 2007 as part of a network of initiatives comprising a children’s home, housing for at-risk girls, a training centre for women and a health clinic. KVS admits primarily children from disadvantaged backgrounds, providing for their education and welfare needs. It also runs a Futures Program to teach life skills, and provides vocational and academic support for senior students.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41bb9c7e80680e04a690jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="400"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41bc9c7e80680e04a691jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1602"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41c09c7e80680e04a692jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="961">Sun roofConcentrated solar panels on the roof of the canteen, by Sunworks Nepal, power cookers in the kitchen and replace Rs60,000 worth of LPG per year. Gas is still used as backup, but it is methane from a digester hidden under the artificial turf of a sports court, fed by effluent from the toilets. Irrigation for the school’s vegetable garden and landscaping comes from black and grey-water filtration beds. Rainwater from the roofs is harvested into a 300,000l water storage tank under the school canteen, designed to fill all water needs for a year. Arrays of solar photovoltaics power the school, backed up by a diesel generator. Compost from black-water waste is used to grow the KVS’s organic produce.

Starting Nepal’s green school movement

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

Turkish Basketball

While Nepal was hosting the Sagarmatha Sambaad international climate conference in Kathmandu this month, on Mt Everest it was pretty much business as usual.&nbsp; The signs of climate breakdown are all there: a river now runs through Base Camp in summer, the Khumbu Icefall is more unstable, and there are more &nbsp;frequent avalanches. When expeditions arrived in March, the mountains were bare: it had not snowed since September, but then blizzards dumped unseasonal snow in May. And despite climate worries, such is the pull of Himalayan mountaineering that the Everest Industry showed no signs of slowdown. More than 600 international climbers and their Nepali guides had made it to the summit of the world’s highest mountain. At one point there were an estimated 2,000 people in the tent city on the Khumbu Glacier. All the ropes and ladders on the Icefall came down on Thursday, marking the official end of the spring climbing season, and just in time to avoid a monsoon cyclone approaching from the Bay of Bengal. It has been an action-packed season. One factor could be that Everest fees will go up from September: each foreign climber needs to pay a $15,000 royalty, up from the present $11,000. The cost for a Nepali climber on the South Col route will also go up: from Rs75,000 to Rs150,000.&nbsp; The fee to climb Everest in autumn is $7,500 (up from $5,500), but most climbers still prefer spring. Winter permit fee (December-February) is only $3,750 per person and the mountain is now also open for monsoon (June-August) climbs, when the fee is ever lower at $2,750. The revised rule also makes it mandatory for every two climbers on an 8,000m peak to hire one Nepali mountain guide.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046" data-rendition-name="original" width="931" height="732" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry graph 1"> </figure>  In addition, climbers also have to pay for porters and guides, equipment, Base Camp costs, Ice Fall and fixed rope team fees, so climbing Everest does not come cheap. But such is the draw of climbing the world’s highest peak that some say the increased fees will not diminish the crowds next year. The government has tried to spread expeditions out to other seasons and other 8,000ers, but with not much success. Earlier this year, Nepal unilaterally increased the number of 8,000m peaks to 14 by adding six more sub-summits to broaden the choice for climbers. Added were: Yalung Kang (8,505m), Yalung Kang West (8,077m) &nbsp;Kangchenjunga Central (8,473m), Kangchenjunga South (8,476m), Lhotse Middle (8,410m) and Lhotse Shar (8,400m).&nbsp; The announcement could go against the accepted topographic criteria that a stand alone peak has to be at least 300m higher than an adjoining prominence, and at more than 3km isolation from it. The UIAA (Union Internationale des Associations d'Alpinisme) still recognises only 14 mountains as eight-thousanders, and only eight of those are in Nepal, or on the border with China. Nepal’s revised mountaineering regulations also increased the insurance coverage of high-altitude workers to protect porters and high altitude guides who usually take more risks on the mountains. Rescue teams and clean-up campaigners to collect trash and remove bodies of dead climbers up to Camp IV of Mt Everest do not need permits.&nbsp; The Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee is now using drones to fly down trash in 20kg sacks. Each climber is also required to bring down at least 6kg of waste and not just their own, but this rule is erratically enforced. With five fatalities on Everest and Lhotse, Spring 2025 had a historically low death toll. Another five climbers died on Annapurna, Kangchenjunga and Makalu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a" data-rendition-name="original" width="665" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest industry graph 2"> </figure>  Journalist Ben Ayers who ran the Everest Live social media channel from Everest Base Camp with daily updates credited the low death rate to dramatic rescues of climbers from the ‘Death Zone’ by their Nepali guides and longline helievacs — the visuals all uploaded on YouTube.&nbsp; “Ironically, this perception of safety is bringing more and more inexperienced climbers to the mountain, and they need more rescues,” Ayers said in one of his dispatches.&nbsp; American expedition chronicler and summiteer Alan Arnette suspects there is a lot of under-reporting given that the jet stream and storms were lashing Everest even till late in the season. He told us: “I heard a lot about frostbite and rescues that were not made public. It’s become practically impossible to cover the details on Everest. All the teams report nice news, and they don’t talk about bad stuff to avoid hurting businesses.” Although trash on Nepal’s mountains makes headlines, what does not receive as much attention is the climate impact of so many expeditions. The Sagarmatha Sambaad conference sidestepped this issue, which is ironic given that the impact of climate breakdown is most evident on Himalayan peaks and their glaciers.&nbsp; <h2>Need for Speed</h2> The big stories this year have been about speed-running from their home cities to the top of Everest. Ukrainian entrepreneur Andrew Ushakov flew out of JFK on 15 May at 10:15AM Nepal time, and was on the summit 3 days, 23 hours, and 7 minutes later on 19 May at 9:22AM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1800" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry"> <figcaption>Andrew Ushakov at the summt. Photo: ELITE EXPED</figcaption> </figure>  “I could never find the time for the traditional 40-50 days of acclimatisation,” Ushakov explained matter-of-factly. His ‘Everest Sea-to-Summit’ climb was possible because he spent 400 hours in hypoxic sleep tents over the past four years in New York. However, Ushakov did use ropes already fixed, hired four Nepali guides, helicoptered to Base Camp, and used much more oxygen than an average climber. And after the climb, Ushakov was arrested at Kathmandu airport for being in possession of $20,000 of undeclared cash and spent a night in jail and fined $60,000.&nbsp; The other speedsters were Garth Miller, Alastair Cairns, Anthony Stazicker, and Kev Godlington, all former British Army commandos. They left London and summited five days later on 21 May, and flew right back. They also used hypoxic tents to simulate the thin air high on Everest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="668" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry "> <figcaption>All four members of the Furtenbach team at the summit. Photo: Sandro Gromen-Hayes</figcaption> </figure>  But more controversial was their use of xenon gas therapy in a German hospital to ramp up the production of oxygen-carrying haemoglobins in their blood. Xenon is banned by the World Anti-Doping Agency for being performance enhancing in sports. Expedition leader Lukas Furtenbach said this rule does not apply to mountaineering, as it is not a regulated sport like swimming. Nepal has no rules about xenon, but the Department of Tourism said it was launching an ‘investigation’ to decide on future policy since it is difficult to ban xenon, but allow oxygen. The controversy has also divided the mountaineering community, with some climbers saying they just want to maximise their chances of survival. Spending less time on the mountain could make climbing safer by reducing avalanche risk. It would also mean less trash on the mountains, but it would reduce the income of Nepal’s expedition industry. It is also unclear how much of the success was due to xenon therapy and whether the ex-special forces were already in good physical shape.&nbsp; The need for speed hides the fact that climbing in the Himalaya is dangerous business, and climbers cannot sprint to the top just by huffing xenon. But ultra-fast climbs could be charged more, and the revenue generated can be used to establish state-of-the-art rescue operations, and increase pay and insurance for guides. Two other speed chasers this season were Swiss-Ecuadorian Karl Egloff and American Tyler Andrews, both on Everest without oxygen. Andrews choppered to Base Camp to catch a weather window, but turned back from 8,500m due to high winds. Heavy snow and wind also forced Egloff to descend from 7,000m. Slow and steady climbers like Anja Blacha from Germany did make it to the summit without oxygen, while Kami Rita Sherpa broke his own record with his 31st Everest summit as he led a 26-strong Indian Army group. There were 468 permits issued for foreign climbers from 48 expeditions to Everest this spring. Nepal’s other eight-thousanders together had only 17 expeditions. Nepal has more than 1,000 peaks above 6,000m, and has opened only 476 of them for climbing.&nbsp;

The Everest Industry

While Nepal marked <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a> Day on 29 May, on the other side of the planet in the US state of Colorado dozens of Nepalis who have climbed the world’s highest peak multiple times were busy working as chefs and Uber drivers. Among them is Nima Doma Sherpa, who climbed Mt Everest in 2019 after her husband Tshering Wangchu was among 16 crushed by an avalanche on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/on-thin-ice-in-the-khumbu">the Khumbu Icefall</a> five years earlier. A large serac broke off the West Shoulder of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Mt Everest </a>and fell directly on a group of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/more-porters-sick-on-everest-trail">porters and guides</a> making their way up the Icefall at 5,800m. Their bodies were flown by helicopter to Khumjung where Tshering Wangchu was born. He was excited about climbing Mt Everest for the first time.&nbsp; In Khumjung, Nima Doma felt like her own life had also ended. This was the kind of news Sherpa wives, mothers and sisters dreaded every <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">mountaineering season</a>. She stayed home for more than two years grieving, but ultimately gathered up all her emotional strength to take care of her 6-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter. Nima had grown up in Khumjung hearing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/stories-of-nepal-s-summiteers">tales of adventure on the mountains </a>from their father, Ang Chubi Sherpa who had climbed Everest in 1993. He used to bring her and her sisters and brother European chocolates after every expedition, and used to tell them that the chocolate bars grew on the mountains. “It was only after we got older did we realise that he told us that chocolates grew in the mountains so we would not worry about him putting himself in harm's way,” Nima Doma recalled with a faraway look at her home in Boulder this week. Nima went to the school that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/commemorating-edmund-hillary-in-nepal,4145">Edmund Hillary</a> opened in Khumjung till Grade 8, and then dropped out to help in the kitchen and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">tend yaks</a>. She was married off to Tshering Wangchu, who was also a high altitude guide. When Tshering went on expeditions, Nima also started working as a porter from Namche to Base Camp. It was perhaps her father’s tales of mountains of chocolates that had always attracted her to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/knowing-our-mountains-43v4iyvo">the peaks</a>. After her husband was killed ten years ago this month, being a widow with children was not easy for Nima Doma. But she was not alone: there were at least 200 single mothers in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khumbu-since-1950-jaww4qn0">the Khumbu</a>, and 20 of them just in Khumjung whose husbands had been killed in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragic-start-to-himalayan-spring-nepal,3695">mountaineering accidents</a>. Some were not even 20 years old, and had children growing up without fathers. But there were also women in the 50s whose husbands had been killed in the 1980s. Nima found sponsors for her children’s education, and moved to Kathmandu. In the capital, Sherpa widows used to meet to help each other. Some of them had joined the Nepal Mountaineering Association (NMA) training for rock and ice climbing. “I decided that it was no use sitting home and crying anymore, after meeting other single mothers I felt less alone,” remembers Nima, who joined the Juniper Foundation and enrolled in an NMA training camp in Manang. There she climbed Chulu East (6,584m) and met Furadiki Sherpa, whose rope-fixing husband had also been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities">killed on Everest</a> in 2013. They set themselves the goal of climbing Everest one day, and started a fund-raising drive.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2678" height="1274" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  “We decided we had to overcome society’s stigma of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/widows-personal-happiness-comes-last-in-face-of-social-financial-hardships,1855">widowhood</a> and prove that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-junko-tabei">women could also climb mountains</a>,” Nima said, adding that she was inspired by Nepal’s first woman Everest summiteer Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, who died during her descent in 1993. Nima Doma and Furdiki climbed the technically-difficult Ama Dablam (6,812m) and then arrived at Everest Base Camp in April 2019 as part of their Two Widows Expedition with the motto, ‘So Can We’. While climbing up the Icefall Nima passed the spot where her husband had been killed. It was a jumble of constantly-shifting ice blocks bigger than houses. She closed her eyes and said a prayer. “I remember thinking, this is so difficult and dangerous. This is what my husband had to do to support our family,” Nima Doma said. “I was determined to fulfil my husband’s dream of climbing Chomolungma, and to prove to ourselves that we two women could do it.” It was 23 May 2019 when <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/world/two-sherpa-widows-scale-everest-and-smash-stigma-idUSKCN1SU0MV/" target="_blank">Nima and Furdiki stepped on the summit</a> and looked over into Tibet, and down at Tengboche Monastery to the south.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b.png" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="1522" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  Nima Doma hugged Furdiki, took off her mask and wept. But for the first time in five years, it was not from grief but relief — relief for being free of all the sadness and sacrifices and for fulfilling her husband’s dream. They had found <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-after-death">life after death</a>. “I felt this immense joy to be on top of the world, it was indescribable,” Nima Doma said, “I have wept only twice in my life. Once when my husband died, and once there on top of Everest.” The tears had frozen on Nima Doma’s cheeks, as she and Furdiki headed back down the mountain.

Everest summiteers find new life in the US

At the edge of the dense forest overlooking Bhaktapur, the sound of chirping birds and the wind rustling through the trees have been replaced by the growl of dozens of bulldozers. This Kakrabari Community Forest behind Suryabinayak shrine was c<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">arefully protected and managed </a>by the local Tamang community for centuries. Today, heavy earthmovers claw noisily at the slope, opening it up like a big red wound. With little land left in the densely populated city, developers are venturing further afield to the valley’s rim and forcibly taking over forests that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local communities </a>have depended on for fodder, firewood and to protect their watershed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  This project of Nic Vujicic Housing Company in Suryabinayak’s Kakrabari Bhanjyang is just the latest and most blatant example of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests">encroachment of forests </a>by real estate developers in collusion with local government officials. “One day, they just came and bulldozed my house,” says Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda, whose family has been living in a tent since March. “Company workers gathered my belongings, deposited them in this tent and demolished my house.” Unlike some of her neighbours, Lama refused to give up her home, but stood no chance against the heavy machines and strongmen mobilised by the company.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda whose house was bulldozed last month. She and her family are now living in makeshift huts nearby.</figcaption> </figure>  Adds Shanta: “I have not signed any document of agreement, the company keeps telling me that they will settle the paperwork later.” Her neighbour Bal Bahadur Tamang, says a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ordinary-nepalis-extraordinary-sacrifice"> bulldozer razed his house</a> while he was out grazing goats in the forest. He recalls: “My wife shouted to the neighbours for help, but no one heard her.” &nbsp; The company used strongarm tactics to try to force Bal Bahadur to sign away his small plot at the edge of the forest that the housing company needed. The family refused, so the property was simply taken over. “Many families have been forcibly evicted from their homes and moved elsewhere to make way for the new housing colony,” says Bal Bahadur. But such is the fear of the young vigilantes employed by the company, that they are afraid to speak out.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Many families this one have been forcibly evicted, and do not want to speak openly because of the fear of vigilantes. </figcaption> </figure>  But there appears to be a generational divide among the local community in Ghising Danda. Many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men">young men have migrated</a> to the city or abroad, but those that remain have been promised jobs and a piece of land by the company, and support the project.&nbsp; For centuries, Suryabinayak communities have tended to the land, and the land has tended to them. The protected trees provide them with livelihood,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/multipronged-response-to-nepal-s-multi-hazards"> prevent landslides</a> on the slopes above and recharge ground water so the springs do not go dry. But this historic connection was severed in January when the excavators arrived to chop down trees and dig up the hill, razing 1.1 hectares of the community forest and surrounding settlements.&nbsp; Much of the forest is now gone, and recent rains have washed the red mud down the mountain like a bleeding gash. On a recent visit excavators were levelling the slope.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing is owned by Purna Bahadur Limbu, Prabin Kusma and Dillidhwaj Baraili. It had parcelled 14.6 hectares in the neighbouring Palanse village three years ago, and was even awarded by the municipality for the project.&nbsp; Now, the company is clearing 27 hectares of private property and community forest in Ghising Danda without a planning permit either from the municipality or the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA).&nbsp; In fact, its application has been pending at the Authority since last October. The company has dangled a lollipop by promising 21 out of the 451 private plots to the government.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  Nepal’s 2015 Basic Standards for the Development of Settlements, and Urban Planning and Building Construction by-laws stipulate that land transactions, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-building-bridges-in-tasmania">construction projects</a>, and housing development via land consolidation require approval from either the KVDA or local government.&nbsp; Projects involving land up to 0.1 hectares require permission from the local level, and those of up to 2.5 hectares require approval from the district authorities, and plans exceeding that area need a permit from the KVDA.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing’s director Dillidhwaj Baraili, is a member of the Federation of Nepalese Industries and Entrepreneurs (FENIE), and close to the ruling UML party.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  While the company did consult with locals, conduct an EIA, tested soil quality, and conducted a hydrological study of the area, these were perfunctory and incomplete for a proper permit application. The approval of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/mind-the-gap-6liiyw5w"> private landowners </a>and the municipality as well as project details were missing.&nbsp; The company had excavated half of Ghising Danda without permission when the local community started raising questions. Only then did it seek permission from the ward, which directed it to apply for a planning permit from the Suryabinayak Municipality.&nbsp; “We are yet to verify whether all the documents submitted by the company are in order, which is why the application is still pending,” Rajendra Prasad Nepal, the municipality’s information officer, told Nepali Times.&nbsp; But the lack of a permit does not seem to deter company director Dillidhwaj Baraili, who uses convoluted semantics to justify using excavators on private and community land. &nbsp; “It is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-unreal-real-estate-prices">plotting of the land</a> that requires approval from the KVDA, we do not need permission from local authorities to operate heavy machinery on the project site,” Baraili told us. However, Ward 9 Chair Bhagwan Khatri says no such permission to use excavators and bulldozers have been given without first obtaining a planning permit. “The housing project is illegal because it has moved forward without a planning permit,” says KVDA’s District Commissioner for Bhaktapur, Safal Shrestha. When the bulldozers started felling trees in the community forest in March, a joint task force of four local guthi put up a resistance, and demanded that the housing company ensure that there would be no mudslide danger downslope <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">during the monsoon</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Dozens of heavy earthmovers were at work at this site one morning earlier this month. With an early monsoon, residents fear mud slides.</figcaption> </figure>  It also wanted the company to make sure the flow of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-heat-beneath-our-feet">water in springs</a> were not affected, and to set up a boundary along the community forest to prevent further encroachment. It also demanded compensation to displaced homeowners.&nbsp; But Nic Vujicic Housing paid no heed, and sent in excavators. Last month, the Kakrabari Community Forest Users Struggle Committee wrote to the Bhaktapur District Administration Office, Suryabinayak Municipality, and the Division forest Office to halt the project. In response, the housing company put out a press release accusing residents of spreading rumours, but the statement presented contradicting information about the status of its planning permit at various levels of the government. &nbsp; It has taken a month for the local government to even send an inspection team to the site. But the team concluded that the forest had been encroached upon and asked the housing company to halt its activities immediately.&nbsp; The company refused to comply, and on 9 May the Police was sent to shut down the project. Baraili maintains the forest was levelled with the consent of all four Guthi as well as Ram Krishna Tamang of the Kakrabari Community Forest User group. Tamang told us he has given no such go-ahead.&nbsp; “How could we have permitted the operation of construction machinery in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/safeguarding-the-soul-of-sal">community forest </a>when the Nepal government itself does not allow the destruction of public property?” adds Tamang. Because of the controversy, the company is now trying to use a carrot and stick approach by placating the local community, while also intimidating those who speak out. “Even though we had obtained permission, perhaps we should have not started using our heavy machinery yet,” Baraili admitted. However, the company is trying to silence dissenters in the community with threats. The company has deployed local youth who have been promised jobs to convince and cajole outspoken community members in Ghising Danda. &nbsp; One of them is Chewang Tamang, who says jobs are more important, and lashes out at locals for being “anti-development”. He says: “There is no point sitting around complaining that a few trees have been cut. The only people who are opposed to this project are those who do not want this place to develop.” &nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2F6TRxyQjbo50%3Fsi%3DjMRyrgfB9tTX8pP8&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>