Nepal’s history of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">urbanisation</a> is said to be 500 years old with the conglomeration of Kathmandu Valley, and even till recently, Prime Minister <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16913">Girija Prasad Koirala</a> called Nepal a country filled with villages (गाउँनै गाउँले भरिएको देश). But villages were never separate from cities. The two remain in a symbiotic relationship. And, sorry, but Nepal is not filled up with villages anymore. &nbsp; The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-demographic-dividend">proportion of Nepalis living in urban areas</a> grew from 23% (2011) to 66% (2017) using criteria such as land use, population density, social services, and infrastructure. But that is only a half-truth.&nbsp; Income source diversification has taken place among village dwellers if not villages all across Asia and in Nepal. The nature and size of household and nature of social relations in villages have also changed rapidly. Access to media for national and global information, the nature of imagination, and the village dwellers’ hopes and fears have also changed.&nbsp; The rise of the urban culture has brought out the previously circumscribed sense of personal, political and economic possibilities and imagination. This applies to all rural dwellers, but in particular to Nepal’s women, Dalits and other identity-marginalised. It is a different matter that not all are in a position to realise what they imagine.&nbsp; At the heart of the rural-urban categorisation is the nature of social relations – whether they are durable, intense, narrow-yet-sharp, and shared within a kinship network and the neighborhood. &nbsp; With urban decay, there is an over-romanticisation of the rural in Nepal as being natural, pure, clean, or honest. There is surely a lightness of being while visiting villages and a tourist enjoys the destination not so much for the nature of the destination itself but because the visitor is able to briefly forget the city’s struggles. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">Cost of living in a big city</a>, Ramesh Kumar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231226091232_8a76986624f62473167b9f4e6d2867c371570492fd83de13d19f6d290b49f884.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231226091232_8a76986624f62473167b9f4e6d2867c371570492fd83de13d19f6d290b49f884" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Sankathan launch"> <figcaption>From Left: Rabin Giri with Chaitanya Mishra and Niraj Bhari during the launch. PHOTO: Nepal Literature Festival/Facebook</figcaption> </figure>  There are those who have permanently moved to rural areas or their ancestral villages, and tried to go native as journalists <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/taste-of-nepal">Kedar Sharma</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/novelist-returns-to-non-fiction">Narayan Wagle </a>have done and recount in a conversation in the Nepali language volume संकथन (Discourse) on Nepal’s rural world published by Niraj Bhari and edited by Rabin Giri. This reverse trend to overwhelming urban drift is unique enough to be remarked upon. &nbsp;&nbsp; The longstanding discourse of a self-sufficient and even subsistent village families is passé as the idea of Nepal being somehow unique in relation to the rest of the world. &nbsp; Rural and urban are not opposites but mutually connected, and one feeds on the other. For example globalisation and capitalism have entered the interior and caught the most valuable resource there: labour power by the scruff of the neck and yanked it out. Migrants from villages of Nepal entered specialised and diverse occupations in cities in Nepal India, Malaysia, East Asia, West Asia, Europe, Australia and North America. Within a hierarchically globalised system, ‘sovereignty’ is often nominal. World-scale international flows and not merely internal structures and processes today shape the ship of state. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A village is no longer what it was. It is still small, but it has changed as Sujata Tamang, Basanta Basnet, and Basanta Thapa observe in their contributions. The people who live there are also not the same. This historical hastening was slow to arrive in Nepal, but picked up by the 1980s.&nbsp; In addition, the rural has not been the opposite of the urban. One, fed on the other. The changing village comes up in many of the chapters in this book, among them that by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/letters-from-the-western-front">Mohan Mainali </a>and Nabin Poudel of the ‘lonely village’ which gave life to many stalwarts but which has been forsaken. &nbsp; The change that takes place in rural settings is often not something that people there prioritise, as Indu Tharu writes. In the larger scheme of things, all of us are the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/exploring-the-genetic-roots-of-the-raute">Raute described and photographed by Kishor Sharma</a> for the volume. We are all unrecognised and feared in some way or other, and share their powerlessness and predicament. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Rakesh Chaudhari writes that villages of Nepal now suffer the same blight as the cities. The city is supposed to be an artificial space that is somehow impure, dark, sly, immoral, etc. Cities certainly need improvement. And we aspire to live in a livable city in which a minimum of stable and relatively relaxed social relations can be built.&nbsp; I really doubt if the notion of a village-within-a-city can be realised, as proposed by Abani Adhikari. On the other hand, cities like Kathmandu can indeed be improved with the idea of regenerating social relations.&nbsp; Kunda Dixit’s composition in संकथन tells us about both the need to reimagine cities as also about the unlikelihood of such re-imagination. Instead, he draws our attention to a powerful pull of historical reversal in which city dwellers, given the nearly overwhelming dynamics of pollution and climate-induced heat stress, willingly desert urban centres, and go back to live in the village. This is a warning we should all seriously think over and possibly act upon as citizens, authors, journalists, politicians, policymakers.&nbsp; In his essay in this collection by former prime minister and urban planner <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/dreams-and-nightmares-of-the-nepal-conflict">Baburam Bhattarai, </a>PhD, posits that a ‘rural revolution’ is no longer necessary in Nepal. It depends on how we define ‘revolution’, but we should try to empower rural areas and the people there to become far more assertive vis-à-vis the cities, its inhabitants and governments seated there.&nbsp; Part of this, of course, has to do with the handover of the constitutionally mandated power to local governments, as pointed out by Parvati Sunuwar and Rabin Giri in his editorial in संकथन. &nbsp;So, there is indeed, a need to revive the “गाउँ गाउँबाट उठ” chant.&nbsp; The rising up, however, must not be of the Maoist variety. It has to be built up by realising the potential political strength of the agricultural labourers, the peasantry as well as larger farmers.&nbsp; It is also needed because much of the popular struggles will be waged in the city or, as Hari Sharma reminds us, in the immediate periphery of the larger cities. The latter struggles will occupy much of national politics. &nbsp;&nbsp; Political basis of rural decline globally is the flow of natural resources, labour, and capital. On the other hand, we must also recognise that it is a historically change-prone routine. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-is-it-vital-to-protect-the-chure">Siwalik/Chure</a> and the lower Mahabharat were key world sites of human habitation and progress for thousands of years.&nbsp; Despite the Maoist armed struggle and a new Constitution, the state has remained completely unresponsive to the agricultural and employment needs of rural peoples. Political representatives have neglected concerns of rural areas they were elected from. The puny state investment in agriculture could do with the feminisation of farming. Dalit, Madhesi and subsistence farmers fall between the cracks because of their feeble political voice. The village is therefore politically poor.&nbsp; And when the poor migrate to the cities, the Nepali word पलायन has come to have negative connotation. The nationalist over boil has also contributed to the discourse of the coffins that arrive everyday with bodies of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">migrant workers</a> from the Gulf or Malaysia – even when we know that the death rate in that age cohort among similar demographic groups within Nepal may not be that different.&nbsp; Finally, this rural cultural feebleness has also found coinage in the discourse of ‘fatalism’ – especially among illiterate village dwellers. Between 25-30% of farms in Nepal are estimated to have been abandoned in the past two decades. This is a huge figure with huge consequences.&nbsp; It is outrageous that there is an absolute absence of political and policy initiatives to address this. There has to be a national framework to reverse this trend with ownership, taxation, rent-fixing interventions.&nbsp; It should also lead to the formation of mid-size and larger farms, competent government, private extension agents and researchers, a system of subsidies. A techno-economic framework for dis-fallowing and cropping must be undertaken.&nbsp; Seasonal high-value low-labour farms that grow trees, fruit, tea and coffee, herbs, vegetables and other ‘opportunistic’ crops can be grown on fallow terraces. Processing centers, integrated cropping and marketing systems can add values to what is grown. &nbsp; Denser, roadside settlements with transportation facilities and formation of market centers would prevent urban encroachment of farmlands. These centres should have quality public health and education system that are affordable and accessible. Many of these initiatives have to be implemented by and through local governments with support from the other two tiers. This will also have the enormous benefit that political parties will be forced to grow from local grassroots upwards. Unaccountable leaders and parties will then risk withering away.&nbsp; We need a new discourse of governance that germinates at the grassroots. And not by means of old and rootless ideologies but through political and policy practice at the level of workers, producers, sellers, consumers. Adapted from Chaitanya Mishra's address at the launch of the collection, संकथन on 23 December. Professor Mishra teaches Sociology to MPhil PhD students at Tribhuvan University. His research focuses on macrosociology, politics, social change, and social stratification &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231226091248_07d3720b0bba58089b114fabcfeb01c47bd1b77ebfbaf7956124eb8093351bd6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20231226091248_07d3720b0bba58089b114fabcfeb01c47bd1b77ebfbaf7956124eb8093351bd6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1335" height="837" loading="lazy" alt="sankathan details"> </figure>

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Nepal is not a country of villages anymore

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd4df9c7e80680e0d30c3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3328" height="2496"/><figcaption>All photos: JOY STEPHENS</figcaption></figure>In October 2018, Gurja Himal in one of the most inaccessible parts of Nepal came to sudden world attention. A Korean expedition attempting to climb the sheer south face of this magnificent peak in the Dhaulagiri massif was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/gurja-himal-tragedy/">hit by an avalanche</a>. The entire Base Camp at 3,500m was blown away by the air blast, killing five Korean and four Nepali climbers.Even so, very few know about Gurja Khani, a former copper mining village at the foot of 7,193m Gurja Himal. The nearest village of Lulang lies a full day’s walk to the south across steep ridges and deep gorges, and from there it is another few days walk to the road from Beni.The shortest and easiest trail to the village is across the 3,250m high Gurja Deorali pass, writes social researcher Joy Stephens in the first few pages of her new photo book Gurja Khani: Hidden village of the Himalaya. She adds, ‘Such isolation has slowed the pace of change and built a community of resilient mountain people.’<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd4e69c7e80680e0d30c4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1611" height="2069"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It was the search for mineral ore that first drew Chhantyal miners to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-clouds-are-lifting-below-dhaulagiri/">Dhaulagiri area</a>, and Gurja Khani owes its existence to the discovery of copper lodes in the mountains. After the indigenous Chhantyals came the Biswakarma metal-workers, forging a unique copper extraction partnership between the two.Before long, mining ceased due to the high taxes and cheap Indian aluminium utensils. Villagers turned to subsistence farming and wage labour but increasingly, youth from this village of 260 households are migrating to the cities or abroad.Stephens divides Gurja Khani into the lives of women, men, children and the elderly, and is an intimate look at a forgotten people from a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/trails-less-travelled/">forgotten part of the country</a>.In one chapter, Belmoti Pariyar of Road of Life Homestay recites from her daughter’s poem: ‘Life is like a trek in Nepal, up and down, up and down.’ This is in essence life in Gurja Khani, beautiful but difficult.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd4ea9c7e80680e0d30c5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="979"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When Belsara Biswokarma, 22, went into labour she bled profusely, passing in and out of consciousness. A junior paramedic in attendance could only do so much. Villagers then put her in a cloth sling between two poles to carry her to a health post in Lulang.‘They ran down the treacherous zig-zag steps to the river, and I was swinging from side to side. I was terrified they were going to stumble and fling me into the gorge,’ Belsara tells Stephens. ‘But we crossed the river and halfway up the mountain, I felt these enormous contractions. I could feel the baby’s head between my legs.’Amrita Biswakarma was abducted by her husband when she was 16, as per the common practice of ‘kidnap marriage’ which Stephens is not so judgemental about. ‘Even though they are traumatised at the time, it appears that once married they are well-treated by their husbands, and love or happiness grows with time,’ she writes.After 13 years of marriage, Amrita is happy with three children, but is sad that her husband is once again leaving to work in Qatar. Many men even from these remotest regions of Nepal <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis/">migrate to India or the Gulf for work</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd4ee9c7e80680e0d30c6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2736" height="2446"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Children attend the local public school but most drop out. From an early age, they have to help parents with household chores, herding and fieldwork. Baby-sitting is an after-school activity.Ward chair Jhak Bahadur Chhantyal is ever occupied, pleading and cajoling people in his effort to improve life in the village. He ran as the Maoist party candidate in recent elections and says he joined the Maoists because they represented change.‘But I don’t believe we can realise our vision by force. First, we must win the minds of the people. In hindsight, the People’s War was not right,’ he tells Stephens. Jhak Bahadur once tried to go abroad for work, but a recruiter absconded with his borrowed Rs800,000 down payment. Besides being an elected official, he is a teacher in Gurja Khani.The last few pages of the book are dedicated to the Chhantyal’s reverence for nature and ancestor spirits, and faith in Shamanism. They consider the 2018 Gurja Himal tragedy as the wrath of the mountain deity for humans defiling nature.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100136/63bfd4f39c7e80680e0d30c7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="484" height="496">

Sonia Awale

A mine of stories from Gurja

<figure><img width="800" height="464" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d599c7e80680e0bd4e3jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Stone quarry in Lalitpur's Tikabhairav. All photos: SAGAR BUDHATHOKI</figcaption></figure>Konjyosom Rural Municpality is just 30km south of the Ring Road, but it might as well be the remotest village in the mountains of far-western Nepal.Schools are dilapidated, the health post has no staff. Despite its proximity to the capital, Southern Lalitpur’s development indicators are much lower than the national average.Jets fly overhead one after another on their final approach into Kathmandu airport, but here on the ground the road disappears in a pall of dust. In the rainy season the road is so muddy it is safer just to walk. “We have a choice of breathing dust or being knee-deep in mud, it takes nearly four hours to reach the city,” says resident Pitambar Humagain, pointing out into the haze in the general direction of Kathmandu.There is just one health post, but it has no doctor and no equipment. It has no patients either — they have to be carried to Patan Hospital for even minor ailments. Schools are in such a poor state that parents have migrated to the city so their children get a proper education. The villages are emptying, more than 150 families from just Sankhu village have moved out in recent years, leaving locked up houses and fallow terrace fields.“Life is so difficult, there are no jobs and we are not educated, so families are migrating out because they do not want their children to suffer the same fate,” says Manju Ghimire, weeding her maize patch.Fifteen years ago, the only school in the village of Silinge had 65 students in a primary class. Now, there are barely 30 elementary school students and only two teachers. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/periphery-within-the-periphery-in-nepal/">Periphery within the periphery in Nepal</a>, Kunda Dixit <figure><img width="1488" height="2000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d5c9c7e80680e0bd4e4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“There is no future for the children here,” adds Silinge local Suresh Tamang “Elected officials have not shown any interest in the past five years to improve education and health facilities.”Indeed, despite local elections being less than a month away, Konjyosom’s villagers do not have much hope that it will change anything. In fact the candidates for mayor and chairs are in the city, and are not even campaigning in their constituencies.Since the 2017 election, the municipal council has built just one trail bridge, and the budget allocated to blacktop 14 km from Ikudol to Dahchok has vanished without trace. Guruprasad Gautam of Bhatte Danda shakes his head in disgust: “Candidates buy their election tickets from the party leadership, and when elected they bulldoze the whole village to the ground.”Indeed, the rural municipalities of southern Lalitpur have become notorious for elected businessmen who have awarded themselves quarry and sand-mining contracts, allowed mountains to be carved for housing colonies and built random roads that have scarred the slopes.Rampant ‘plotting’ has destroyed the landscape of scenic Lele Valley and Godavari. Community forests have been privatised under the guise of ‘road expansion’. All this has disturbed drainage on the slopes, and springs have gone dry.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-struggles-to-balance-nature-and-industry/">Nepal struggles to balance nature and industry</a>, Ramesh Kumar <figure><img width="1242" height="931" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d609c7e80680e0bd4e5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Illegal quarries in Godavari have increased the danger of landslides and worsened air quality. Locals whisper about the ‘sand mafia’ working in collusion with local officials.“Local dons have so much influence they now have got permission to mine river boulders and their crushers have made our community unliveable,” complains Subhash Bista, holding a cloth to his face. “At this rate, southern Lalitpur will be buried in landslides.”It is not just the rural outskirts of Lalitpur that have suffered in the past five years. The historic city of Patan itself is over-run with unplanned construction. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-local-election-gives-power-back-to-people/">Nepal’s local election gives power back to people,</a> Rabin Giri <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d629c7e80680e0bd4e6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Gone are the charms of the quaint alleys, and multi-story concrete buildings now block the sky. Some of Patan’s ancient stone spouts and monuments destroyed in the earthquake have been restored, but many ponds have been built over.“There are no public parks for children, no open spaces and greenery at all,” says Kupondole resident Pradip Baidya. “There is only dust and traffic.” Lalitpur district has one metropolis, two municipalities and three rural municipalities, and they all share common concerns which should have been addressed by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/think-nationally-vote-locally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local governments</a> in the past five years. Still, incumbent mayors, chairs and council members want to run for office again. One of them is Lalitpur Metropolis mayor Chiribabu Maharjan of the Nepali Congress, who promises to continue the work he started to build a ‘bicycle city’ and a ‘smart eco-friendly metropolis’. “We have made progress in the last five years, but there is still a lot to be done,” he admits.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/local-government-by-the-people-for-the-people-of-the-people/">Local government by the people, for the people, of the people</a>, Ramesh Kumar <figure><img width="2000" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d659c7e80680e0bd4e7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Deputy mayor Geeta Satyal wants Maharjan’s post and is running for mayor. She says, “My five-year term as the deputy has given me the necessary experience and confidence to run for mayor.”Meanwhile, UML has already selected district central committee members Harikrishna Vyanjankar and Manjari Shrestha as mayoral and deputy mayoral candidates for Lalitpur.In Bagmati Rural Municipality, chair Bir Bahadur Lopchan is planning to run for the post again. But his deputy Ranjana Ghimire and ward-chair Bishnu Timilsina are also running for the mayor post.Mayor Rameswar Shrestha of Mahalaxmi Municipality boasts that he has fulfilled most of his 2017 campaign promises and spent 80% of his constituency’s budget on infrastructure. He is contesting again, but so are Ram Chandra Dahal and Kamala Tamang of the neighbouring Mahankal rural Municipality.As in other parts of Nepal, in Lalitpur too many elected officials are competing against members of their own parties as well as from the opposition. The list of hopefuls include runners-up of the 2017 state-assembly, joint secretaries and central committee members of local party chapters, as well as contractors, educators, and members of local financial institutions.Time is running out for elections on 13 May, and political parties are now unveiling their election strategies. The UML has said it will focus on delivery of health, education, employment, agriculture and infrastructure.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/power-to-the-periphery/">Power to the periphery</a>, Sonia Awale <figure><img width="2000" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111148/63721d689c7e80680e0bd4e8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Maoist Centre has a similar platform, prioritising physical infrastructure, education and health. For Lalitpur, the Nepali Congress is set to focus on cultural and heritage preservation, traffic management and the environment. Even as many voters have become disillusioned with local government, many also want their concerns taken seriously this time. Keshav KC of Thecho wants his elected officials to stop illegal mining and improve roads that have been in a dilapidated condition for years.  Shiva Shrestha of Tikathali is concerned about air and water pollution, and wants a municipality head to solve those.  Rajesh Darlami of Bhatte Danda village wants the chronic lack of irrigation and fertiliser facilities as well as an efficient market delivery system of fresh produce. Pema Lama of Lakuri Bhanjyang expects his local leader to expand tourism in the area. “Better roads and other facilities to attract tourists would vastly benefit the local economy,” he says.Prakash Raut of Lamatar sees the need to control rampant use of excavators to level slopes in his neighbourhood for new housing colonies. “If unchecked plotting does not stop, there will be nothing but houses here in a few years,” he adds.Suraj Bajgain of Gotikhel wants elected candidates to improve health and education services so that people do not have to move to an expensive city, and live hand-to-mouth. Kishor Bista of Sunakothi believes that elected officials should be responsible for the preservation of local culture and heritage. “Our public spaces, community forests and heritage are disappearing. If we elected a representative who cared enough, we could preserve the beauty of this town for generations to come.”Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/deputies-drive-development-in-rural-nepal/">Deputies drive development in rural Nepal</a>, Laxmi BasnetAdapted by Shristi Karki from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/129271" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/129271&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1650351029924000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1_sqekESyUPLZLn0ZGGTxq">Nepali original</a> in <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://himalkhabar.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1650351029924000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3Do8XIAI9gAf008ZBWdcRR">himalkhabar.com</a>

Thinking locally, acting locally

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203b79c7e80680e0b2821jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="695"/><figcaption>Tsering Sumjok Gurung with German plastic surgeon André Borsche (left) and Peter Hinze (right). Borsche had treated her childhood injury at the Sushma Koirala Memorial Hospital in Kathmandu. All photos courtesy: PETER HINZE</figcaption></figure>Last November, in the waiting room of a hospital in Bad Kreuznach in Germany, Tsering Sumjok Gurung caught glimpse of a familiar face.The tall man with graying hair and moustache was wearing a white coat over a yellow jumper. He was none other than plastic surgeon André Borsche who had treated her horrific childhood burn injury at the <a href="https://www.skmt.org.np">Sushma Koirala Memorial</a> Hospital in Kathmandu ten years previously.“It was an emotional reunion for both of us,” Tsering, now 23, remembers. “He was very friendly and wanted to see how my injuries had healed.”Tsering was 18 months old that summer when her family made the annual migration up to high pasture to graze their yaks. One day, while her mother was tending the livestock, Tsering fell off her crib right into the fireplace. She was badly burnt on her back, and right arm.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-burning-desire-to-help,881">A burning desire to help</a>, Kunda Dixit<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203ba9c7e80680e0b2822jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="308" height="462">There were no doctors in her village of Bhijer, so she was treated for the next four years by the local <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/I-am-an-amchi,3349" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">amchi healer</a>. This kept her alive, but the skin on her right arm was fused with the torso. All her childhood, Tsering was carried around in a doko bamboo basket.“Burns are common in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dolpo</a> because home life revolves around the kitchen fire,” says Tsering. “I was lucky.”Despite being painful to move around, Tsering started going to school in Bhijer and excelled in studies. In Grade 2, a group of wealthy American and Swiss trekkers visited the school that they had supported. They noticed Tsering, examined her injuries, and helped bring her to Kathmandu for school and treatment. Over the years, the two families have also funded a hospital and a cheese factory in the village.Tsering used to watch her classmates in Kathmandu run and play, or dance in school programs, but could not participate because of her injury. She was eventually admitted to the Sushma Koirala Hospital, which is supported by INTERPLAST-Germany, where André Borsche and his team performed five major operations with reconstructive surgery. Every week, she had to make a painful bus ride from her dorm in Boudha to the hospital in Sankhu for physiotherapy and follow-ups.She missed many classes, but she made up for it by reading books which inspired her to become a doctor, so she could serve her community in Dolpo. Not able to afford higher education, in 2017 she started working as a hostel warden at a school in Chobar.That is when she met German journalist Peter Hinze who was researching his first book on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/The-Great-Himalaya-Trail/dp/3957281377" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.com/The-Great-Himalaya-Trail/dp/3957281377&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641892465582000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3DjWYFudXKEdEQ0H4UlQmW">The Great Himalayan Trail, </a>and Tsering later travelled with him to Upper Dolpo to make a film with herself as the lead character.Tsering was back in Bhijer for the first time in ten years, and her family and neighbours were surprised how much she had grown and changed. Her injuries were not visible anymore, and no one could believe that a little girl who had such terrible injuries would be so transformed.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18771#.Ydv72C8w3u0">Lending a hand</a>, Nepali Times“I met the right people who helped me get treatment otherwise my life would have been different,” Tsering says. “Even now, there are many children in my neighbouring villages who are not as fortunate.”The film project was cancelled because of the pandemic, but Hinze converted the research into the book 100000 Schritte zum Glück about Dolpo, and invited Tsering to Germany for the unveiling in November. The book made it to number 4 on Amazon's best seller list in Germany.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203bd9c7e80680e0b2823jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="169" height="242">And he had a surprise in store – a meeting with the surgeon who had treated her in Kathmandu all those years ago. It was an emotional and joyful reunion.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203bf9c7e80680e0b2824jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="641"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“This was one of the best days in my 26-year career, when I could see the wonderful result of our charity work,” said André Borsche.Tsering was equally happy: “I made it from my family stone hut in Bhijer to the hospital in Germany to meet the surgeon who changed my life.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-acid-attack-survivors-find-a-saviour/">Nepal’s acid attack survivors find a saviour</a>, Sabina Devkota<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203c19c7e80680e0b2825jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="1000">In the hospital, Borsche examined her burn scars and was satisfied with how well her back had healed. He suggested one more operation, but Tsering refused any more treatment.“I am over medical procedures for now,” Tsering told Nepali Times on her return from Germany. “After all those surgeries, I am put off by the sight of blood. I don’t want to think about the pain afterwards. For now I think I am ok.”These days, when Tsering is not busy with her full-time work at the Chobar school, she helps Hinze with Project Dolpo, a private initiative to help those who need assistance in her home district. She gets frequent calls from families in Dolpo who are in distress.Says Hinze: “I think this is a motivating story about a girl who never gave up, and who trusted herself. It shows how when help gets to the right people, the underprivileged and the almost forgotten, it can make a big difference to their lives.”This past week in Kathmandu, Tsering has been busy taking a seven-year-old boy from Dolpo who was also badly burnt with boiling water, and was brought to Kathmandu for treatment. Tsering has been taking the patient to the burns hospital in Kirtipur for medical attention.“It happened to me, and now to this boy. These accidents occur so frequently and Upper Dolpo just does not have the facilities to treat burn injuries,” says Tsering.For now, she wants to complete her education and ultimately return to Dolpo: “I feel it is my responsibility to give back to my community. The only way my village is going to develop is when young people like me get educated, and head back to help others like us. There is so much to do.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-prolonged-trauma-of-acid-attack-survivors/">The prolonged trauma of acid attack survivors</a>, Laxmi Basnet

Sahina Shrestha

Tsering Sumjok is all right

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18369c7e80680e0ac7b1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="853"/><figcaption>Photos: BRITISH EMBASSY</figcaption></figure>As the UK Prime Minister’s Special Envoy on Girls’ Education, I am lucky enough to meet girls and governments in many different countries.Last week I was delighted to visit Nepal to learn more about the challenges, and solutions, to increase girls’ education in response to the school closures because of the devastating Covid-19 pandemic. I wanted to understand first-hand the climate change threats, and how girls and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-moving-nepals-climate-activism/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women have a vital role in Nepal’s response</a>.From Kathmandu to Karnali, I saw the impact of the ‘perfect storm’ of Covid-19 and climate change. It’s clear that girls’ education has been particularly badly affected. I heard how families’ finances are under pressure, making it increasingly likely girls will drop out of school and be forced into early marriage. I saw the aftermath of climate-related damage like flooding and landslides to school buildings, creating further disruption for students.These challenges are not minor setbacks, especially when we recognise how important education is in shaping a global response to climate change. Education builds the skills, confidence and capacity of young women and men, and therefore our collective ability to respond to more frequent natural disasters, extreme weather, and conflict over scarce natural resources.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-double-burden-of-climate-and-covid/">The double burden of climate and Covid</a>, Nepali Times<blockquote>It’s <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/InternationalDayoftheGirl?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#InternationalDayoftheGirl</a>!Today, and every day, girls’ education must be prioritised. In <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Nepal?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#Nepal</a> last week, I saw first-hand the impacts that climate change is having on girls' education, but I also met inspiring women and girls who want to join the fight. More here 👇 <a href="https://t.co/E7WmoMVRzw">pic.twitter.com/E7WmoMVRzw</a>— Helen Grant (@HelenGrantMP) <a href="https://twitter.com/HelenGrantMP/status/1447524074989707264?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 11, 2021</a></blockquote>And promisingly, it seems clear that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-climate-activist-makes-waves/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">young people will step up</a>,  if supported. UNICEF has interesting research showing that young people in South Asia want to know more about the science and practical examples of both climate-related damage and adaptation.Most acknowledge that the effects of climate change are disturbing their education: heatwaves inevitably make it hard to concentrate, and flooding prevents them from travelling to school. But the good news is that 85% want to do something about it.My experience in Nepal completely backs up that research. After majestic views of the Himalayas on a flight to Surkhet, I met a truly inspiring group of young women. They explained how Karnali province was susceptible to floods and landslides but emphasised how local action and female empowerment could lead the response.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18399c7e80680e0ac7b2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="942" height="942">I am proud that British support to the Girls’ Education Challenge and wonderful organisations like the VSO helped this group to advance girls’ rights. They have supported marginalised younger girls to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/sisterhoods-empowering-education-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">stay in school and learn effectively</a>.They have convinced parents and communities to outlaw child marriage, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ensuring-menstrual-hygiene-during-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">tackle menstrual taboos</a> such as chhaupadi, and rebalance chores so they do not impede older girls’ education and empowerment.As I continued my journey by road, to the green and golden Tarai lowland and the ‘river island’ delta of Rajapur, I saw their incredibly rich farmland. The monsoon and glacial melt combine to wash down a billion tonnes of alluvial silt, creating a threat for agriculture-dependent communities, at risk of severe flooding.Here too <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/women-in-climate-hot-spots-face-challenges-adapting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women bear the brunt</a>, almost two-thirds of women work in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-women-doubly-burdened-by-climate-change/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">vulnerable agriculture sector</a>,  as opposed to less than half of the total men. I met a wonderful group of Janjati women farmers who had boosted productivity with a climate resilient, low maintenance water supply to irrigate paddy fields and vegetable farms.What is more, UK support and local engineers had worked together to hedge against unpredictable flood surges by building, for example, raised flood shelters with ramps.It is undeniable that women and girls are among the most vulnerable to climate shocks, but just as they’re part of the solution. That is one of the reasons why the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson has put girls’ education high up on the global agenda, to support all girls to complete 12 years of quality education.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d183c9c7e80680e0ac7b3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="556" height="302">We have set an ambitious target to get 40 million girls back into school, and with higher learning levels in the coming five years. We backed that up at the London Global Education Summit in July, where international partners raised $4 billion to support education globally, including in Nepal.Two weeks before I arrived, Nepal’s development partners, led by the British Embassy Kathmandu and the World Bank, signed a landmark agreement to support Nepal with $7.4 billion of investment to ensure a green, resilient, and inclusive recovery from Covid-19. This finance will accelerate Nepal’s ability to cut carbon emissions, whilst supporting job creation, renewables, and growth in the green economy.Next month, the UK is hosting <a href="https://ukcop26.org">COP26</a>, the UN Climate Change Conference, which will bring together leaders from around the world to agree on action to tackle the urgent threat of global climate change. The science is clear and unequivocal: human influence is warming our atmosphere, our lands and our oceans. No one is immune to the devastating effects of climate change, but it’s hitting the poorest and most vulnerable hardest.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/women-in-climate-hot-spots-face-challenges-adapting/">Women in climate hot spots face challenges adapting</a>, Marty LoganWhen Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba arrives at the COP26 conference, I’m sure he’ll make clear Nepal’s potential, ambition, and need for climate finance. But amidst the talk of billions of green investment and carbon dioxide emission cuts, on the International Day of the Girl Child on 11 October we must not forget that the poorest and most vulnerable girls and women already suffer the worst impact of climate change and are least able to adapt.In the countdown to the annual Dasain festivities that were gathering pace as I departed, I was told how unusual it was for the rains to still be falling. Freak occurrence, or just another example of climate change affecting weather patterns?What I do know is there is one sure way to reduce risks and safeguard the future: educating girls. Through education, girls and women are not only empowered to improve their own lives, but they can also drive change in their communities and help families and neighbours adapt to climate impacts and build more inclusive societies.Helen Grant was appointed in January 2021 as the United Kingdom’s Prime Minister’s Special Envoy on Girls’ Education.

Educating girls for climate action

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17b19c7e80680e0ac780jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="856" height="571"/><figcaption>Kathmandu's Dasain shopping crowd this week. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Nearly half of Kathmandu Valley’s population is fully vaccinated against Covid-19, but the national average is only a little over 20%. In essence, this is a microcosm of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/hope-hyperbole-and-hypocrisy-of-covax/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">vaccine inequity seen globally</a> – but it also reflects Nepal’s in-built socioeconomic inequalities.In Asia and Africa, a majority of the population including health workers and the elderly are yet to receive even their first dose. But the US, France, Germany, and Israel are already <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/to-boost-or-not-to-boost/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">providing booster shots</a> to their vulnerable populations.On one hand, this is a stark reminder that Nepal is not on the priority of wealthy nations. Just as it was not during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-real-cost-of-nepals-second-wave/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">devastating second wave in May</a> when, despite the prime minister and the president calling on foreign governments for vaccine shipments, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/aid-pours-into-nepal-but-where-be-vaccines/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the response was tepid</a>.On the other hand, the imbalance in vaccine distribution within Nepal is a reflection of long-standing inequities in healthcare services, education, drinking water, and food that predate Covid-19.Despite a federal Constitution that has devolved decisions and delivery of basic services to local governments, it is still Kathmandu that holds the purse strings and power. Isolated and beyond the state’s reach even at the best of times, Nepal’s hinterland this year has been cut off by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/still-chasing-the-melamchi-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">destructive floods blamed on the climate crisis</a>.A village in Kailali with 200 Tharu and Dalit families has been marooned by floods for the past month, where the submerged roads block access to even the rudimentary healthcare available.It is not surprising, therefore, that very few in this village are inoculated. In fact, those who need to be vaccinated the most now face a triple whammy: historical state neglect, international apathy, and now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/mountainous-regions-face-catastrophic-impacts-without-urgent-climate-action/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">climate-induced extreme weather</a>.This in turn has set off a vicious cycle, and the poor are getting poorer. The official death toll from Covid-19 in Nepal is nearly 12,000, but the ‘excess deaths’ that were not counted in remote villages across the country is probably several times higher.An estimated <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/helping-nepals-covid-orphans/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">1,200 children have become orphans</a> because of the death of one or both parents due to Covid-19. Many of them do not have support for food, healthcare, and education – setting a stage for intergenerational inequity.In Kathmandu and urban centres, on the other hand, there is complacency and false sense of security as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/too-early-for-nepal-to-let-its-guard-down/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the festive season approaches</a>. Unvaccinated children have also started <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/two-schools-of-thought/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">attending in-person schools</a>. The Health Ministry’s recent seroprevalence study has revealed that 67% of people have SARS-CoV-2 antibodies, and therefore have natural immunity against the virus. This, combined with half of the valley’s targeted demography being vaccinated on paper, makes a case for a fully immune population.But that is not the case. There is now growing proof that antibodies provided by vaccines wane over time, which means many of us who were vaccinated earlier this year have weaker protection than we think. Only those newly infected with the virus might have sufficient antibodies to fight off the next infection.It is not as important to know what portion of the population has antibodies as to how much of it they have. Vaccinated individuals are less susceptible to hospitalisation, severe symptoms, and death, but they can still be contagious, especially as the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/delta-variants-wake-up-call-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">more virulent Delta variant</a> continues to circulate in the region.The Dasain shopping spree has started, and there are throngs of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/dasain-crowd-unmasked/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">shoppers in Asan and other bazar streets</a>. Many have stopped wearing masks, or use them inappropriately. The situation will be worse when Kathmandu residents travel to their hometowns this week. They will be visiting elderly parents and grandparents, exposing vulnerable elderly relatives with lower immunity to the virus.The government is bringing in 100,000 doses of Pfizer vaccines after the festivals, with plans for 10 million more by March. But provincial and district hospitals must have deep refrigeration equipment in place, and make necessary collaboration with private hospitals.To make sure that each Nepali child, even those in remote Karnali, gets <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/once-nepal-gets-vaccines-they-need-to-be-fairly-distributed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a shot at the Covid-19 vaccine</a>, our expansive network of community healthcare workers must be mobilised and, where required, administer vaccines at the household level.Lhamo Yangchen Sherpa is an epidemiologist and a senior research monitoring and evaluation advisor at IPAS Nepal.

Giving all Nepalis a shot at the Covid vaccine

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01359c7e80680e0a361bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="750"/><figcaption>A student in Khijidemba of Okhaldhunga district, receives a radio set and workbooks distributed through the Promoting Stability in Education project. Photo: REED NEPAL</figcaption></figure>For nearly 18 months, regular educational activities of children across Nepal <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-the-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">have been disrupted</a>. The closure of schools to reduce the spread of Covid-19 has amplified the many other ways the pandemic has eroded the academic and social experiences of students, and with this, their mental wellbeing.The impact of this will be felt for many years by the students themselves and nationally, as Nepal’s economy, like other countries, witnesses a reduced rate of economic return.Children from poorer families and those in remote parts of Nepal have been especially affected. The pandemic has laid bare <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/digital-divide-exposes-class-divide-in-nepal-schools/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">inequality in access to education</a>.The Nepal government’s Students’ Learning Facilitation Guidelines 2020 notes that a large number of students do not have access to innovative delivery of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lockdown-gives-distance-learning-a-boost-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">distance learning </a> rograms. Rather, they depend on the distribution of printed learning materials and person-to-person contact that has been difficult to sustain during the pandemic.Even before Covid, Australia and Nepal shared challenges with the delivery of education to students living in remote locations.In the central desert area of Australia is the Alice Springs <a href="https://www.schooloftheair.net.au/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">School of the Air </a>(ASSOA), reputedly the biggest school in the world. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SchoolOfTheAirAliceSprings/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ASSOA</a>'s classrooms are spread over 1.3 million sq km, yet it has only 120 students and 14 teachers.For over 60 years, it has been delivering education by radio for children who live a day’s drive or more from the nearest school. ASSOA is one of several Schools of the Air operating across the vast Australian outback.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01389c7e80680e0a361cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2327" height="1690"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>So it should come as no surprise that during the pandemic Australia has been supporting the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/learning-during-the-pandemic-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">delivery of education</a> to children in rural Nepal.The Australian government has partnered with Rural Education and Development Center (REED) Nepal to deliver a program that is enabling continued learning in the far reaches of Nepal.The Promoting Stability in Education (PSE): Continuity of Learning and Strengthening Resilience program builds on the experiences of REED’s successful Teacher Training and Quality Education Program in Solukhumbu district, supported by the Australian Himalayan Foundation.Parents, teachers, community volunteers and local governments are working together to encourage and ensure children’s access to learning opportunities in communities that have limited access to the Internet.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d013b9c7e80680e0a361djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Under this initiative, lessons are broadcast daily through<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/tuning-into-the-radio-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> local radio stations</a> to over 23,000 households, reaching over 66,000 children and 14,000 parents. Radio sets, worksheets and other educational materials are being distributed to children’s families. The program will assist the transition back to in person classroom learning when schools reopen.Nearly two months after the launch of the program, PSE has been warmly received by students and educators alike.Bahjang Secondary School student, Pramila Ratala, who lives with disability, has welcomed the way Learning by Radio has brought her school to her home.“I used to walk two hours to go to my school but nowadays, I am learning from my home,” she said. “In addition to regular school curriculum, I also learn life skills and issues of gender equality. In future, I want to work for the benefit of children with disabilities and be like the award-winning author Jhamak Ghimire.”Through PSE, educators visit homes, distributing learning materials and radio sets to families and providing support to parents and community members.Local governments are closely engaged in the program. Education representative of Haleshi Tuwachung Municipality of Khotang district, Padam Karki said, “With the federal government’s decision to close schools, we were quite worried about what we could do to ensure we backstop learning loss among our children”.“Learning by Radio is instrumental in continuing education for our children. We are ready to cooperate with the program by visiting households and interacting with the parents and other stakeholders of children’s education, distribution of radio sets, workbooks and worksheets, and mobilising volunteer teachers,” Karki added.The benefits of programs like Learning by Radio, are not confined to Covid; rather, they provide innovative learning models for all who have difficulty accessing traditional education <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/sisterhoods-empowering-education-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">due to disabilities</a> or their remote location.As Keshari Rai, a teacher from Janajagriti Basic School in Dudhkunda, Solukhumbu observed, “There is very limited access to smartphones and reliable internet. Children have to walk a long distance to come to school every day.”Delivery of pre-recorded educational materials also <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-a-rural-radio-thrived-in-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">benefits parents and local communities </a> ith information relevant regardless of age. Ishori Nepali from Talkot Rural Municipality, Bajhang district, said she found her child’s radio lessons on gender equality and life-skills useful to her as well and she has become a regular listener.Barun Lamichhane, station manager of Beats FM, Sindhuli, agreed that Learning by Radio has applications beyond the formal education setting. “The program has helped deliver life-skill education and public service announcements including information on pandemic, gender issues and disaster preparedness."From Australia’s cattle stations to Nepal’s Himalayan communities, students and their families are benefiting from schools of the air. For all the challenges Covid-19 has presented, it has also reminded us that old technologies combined with new thinking can help chart a more positive future.Felicity Volk is the Australian Ambassador to Nepal.

Schools of the Air

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d08aa9c7e80680e0a602ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The Covid-19 pandemic has now killed more people than the devastating 2015 earthquake. Officially, over 9,700 Nepalis have died due to the coronavirus in the past year and a half, but the<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-impact-worse-than-official-figures/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> real figure</a> is said to be at least three times more.At a glance, it seems that densely populated urban centres with the most infections have <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-covid-tsunami/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">recorded the highest fatalities</a>. But analysing the available government data shows that the fatality rate among infected patients is higher in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rural-nepal-fights-back-covid-19/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">remote areas of the country</a>.In Bagmati province, of every 1,000 Covid patients, 11.9 individuals have lost their lives, but it is 21.1 in Karnali Province. District-wise, Kathmandu saw 9.1 deaths per 1,000 cases while Mustang recorded a whopping 111.9 fatalities per 1,000.Public health experts blame limited health care facilities in rural Nepal including ICUs, ventilators, drugs and oxygen for Covid-19 treatment for this huge discrepancy. They also have notably fewer doctors, nurses and other paramedics.“A majority of coronavirus patients recover but most of those who died did not survive because of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/why-is-there-still-an-oxygen-shortage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lack of medical oxygen</a> and this is also largely due to uneven distribution of health infrastructure,” says Bijay Acharya of the Massachusetts General Hospital, also associated with the US Nepal Health Foundation.He adds: “In many places, patients have died on their way to hospitals or while being moved from one to another. Many more people in the villages have likely passed away unable to access the treatment.”Binita Adhikari, a public health specialist affiliated with the Health Nepal Foundation and the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health agrees. “The fatality rate is high in remote Nepal also because many people who need treatment never reached the hospital. The Covid-19 outcome depends on how soon a person is diagnosed, hospitalised and receives treatment,” she says.The fact that the entire<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/at-the-covid-19-frontlines-in-rural-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Karnali Province</a> has only two functional laboratories for Covid-19 testing (Karnali Academy of Health Sciences in Jumla and Surkhet’s Provincial Hospital) means that official figures for total cases in the region are largely under-counted. And this could also have made the fatality rate among confirmed cases higher.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-local-governments-lead-from-the-front/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Poor road infrastructure</a> and having to travel distance, sometimes several days, for diagnosis or to access hospital care also adds to the casualties. This also means additional expenses for the poor.The annual per capita income of people in Karnali is $606, which is nearly half of the national average, and a third of the population there is living below the poverty line. The region’s Human Development Index (HDI) at 0.538 is also much lower than the rest of the country.Even within Karnali Province, the poorest and the most disadvantaged have been disproportionately affected. The coronavirus mortality in Karnali stands at 2.1%, but in remote Dolpo, the figure rises to 7.01%. There is just one ventilator here at the district hospital, but even that is non-functional in a lack of skilled human resources to operate it. There are only two beds with oxygen.Similarly, the fatality rates in Mugu, Humla, Rukum East and Salyan were 6.1%, 5.15%, 4.86% and 4.07%, all much higher than the national average of 1.5%. These are also some of Nepal’s most economically and socially disadvantaged districts. Dolpo’s HDI is 0.4 and Mugu’s 0.39.“It is very likely the total number of people infected and dying of the pandemic in the region is much higher than reported. Much of this is due to continued lack of testing and contact tracing,” says epidemiologist Lhamu Yangchen Sherpa.Director of Teku Hospital at Kathmandu Anup Bastola agrees: “The high fatality rates in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-nepal-virus-climbs-from-plains-to-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">remote districts</a> don’t necessarily mean they have more deaths, but that many of them have not had sufficient testing, which means most of the infected people barring those in critical condition didn’t reach us.”It is however clear that regions with good health infrastructure, economically sound environment, and with higher human development index are better placed to save those infected.While Solu, Bhojpur and Ilam saw districts 5.06%, 4.8% and 4.09% of their Covid patients succumb to the disease, Morang, Chitwan and Kaski reported only 1.02%, 1.25% and 1.52% fatality rates respectively. The figure is even lower for Kathmandu at 0.91%.Province-wise, after Karnali, Lumbini has the highest Covid death rate at 1.77%. This is followed by Gandaki at 1.73%, with the lowest being Bagmati (1.19%).There is also a huge <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/once-nepal-gets-vaccines-they-need-to-be-fairly-distributed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">disparity in Nepal’s Covid vaccination drive</a>. Of the 1.42 million Nepalis (4.9% of the total population) who have been fully vaccinated, 55.45% of them are from Bagmati Province alone. Karnali accounts for a mere 3.5% of people who have received either both doses of AstraZeneca Covishield or VeroCell or a single shot J&amp;J vaccine.In other words, 14% of Bagmati residents have been fully inoculated versus 3% of Karnali people. The figure is even lower for Province 1, 2 and Far West where 2.4%, 1.71% and 2.78% of their population have been fully vaccinated.However, some public health experts have argued that the vaccination drive when doses are scarce should not necessarily aim right now for equity, but focus on high-risk, crowded cities with mobile populations, and regions along the Indian border.Says Bijay Acharya: “Age alone shouldn’t factor into who gets the vaccine first, economic status and social background should also be taken into account to ensure those other than the affluent also benefit. Areas with a high risk of infection and marginalised communities with poor health infrastructure should be equally prioritised.”Nepal government is in a process procure six million dose of Pfizer vaccines for teenages from 12-18 years of age in the next six to nine months' time. Health Ministry is in the final stages of preparing -80 degree Celsius storage facilities in all seven provinces.Translated by Sonia Awale from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/125201" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">original in Himal Khabar</a>.

Nepal’s uneven Covid-19 deaths

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94899c7e80680e06f20ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>There is a wedding in progress in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12202#.YNmx8S2B2CQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jumla’s remote Sinja Valley</a>, and even here guests with smartphones are taking TikTok videos and photos of the ceremony.Even though everyone has a phone camera, the services of Nani Maya Buda are in high demand in the village of Gothijyula.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b948c9c7e80680e06f20bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="658" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b948f9c7e80680e06f20cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="968">She is attending as the official photographer of the wedding with her Nikon D80 digital camera. Nani Maya never went to school, and cannot or read or write, but she is a self-taught professional photographer.In this <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/holding-up-the-whole-sky-in-jumla/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">culturally conservative society</a>, women are usually seen at home, tending livestock, or toiling in the fields. But Nani Maya stands out for her entrepreneurship and self-assurance in her new job."Could you please tilt your head a bit? Look at the camera. And we are done,” she tells a customer in her makeshift studio behind her electrical shop. She then takes the memory card to her laptop, edits the photos and prints them out.It is a busy day at the studio, and customers are lining up outside for their turn. Some of them can be quite demanding, but Nani Maya is patient and tries to meet their requests.Gothijyula village is a local hub in Sinja Valley with government offices, banks, and a rural market: residents of many surrounding villages travel there for official documents, to deposit money, and to do some shopping."I want sindur on my forehead," says one. "Make my skin look smooth and less dark,” demands another, "can you get rid of the moles in my face?"Nani Maya replies: “I will make you look like a heroine in a Bollywood movie.” There are peals of laughter from the women.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94929c7e80680e06f20djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nani Maya Buda has been running her small shop here selling electrical goods for ten years. The shelves are filled with mobile phones, batteries, watches, flash-lights, and other goods. Seeing the demand for mugshots for citizenship certificates, bank forms and school admissions, her husband started the small photo studio.After he got a salaried job, he got his wife to take over the shop, and also trained her to take and edit pictures in a rudimentary studio, which is just a white cloth hanging on the wall outside the shop where there is more light. Customers sit on an empty oil drum, while Nani Maya tilts their faces just right.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94959c7e80680e06f20ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94989c7e80680e06f20fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b949b9c7e80680e06f210jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b949e9c7e80680e06f211jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="947"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94a19c7e80680e06f212jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="947"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94a49c7e80680e06f213jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>"I learned quickly, but made mistakes at first,” Nani Maya recalls. “Once I accidentally formatted the entire drive and lost all data, and sometimes I waste too much paper while printing photographs."Nani Maya’s daughter died in an accident, and she now lives in a rented room with her husband and a younger son. The older son goes to school in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/starting-nepals-green-school-movement/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Surkhet</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94a79c7e80680e06f214jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94aa9c7e80680e06f215jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94ad9c7e80680e06f216jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>She is now well-known in the village, and the shop is usually crowded, especially at school admission time when she is taking pictures back-to-back of young students. She is thrilled that they have a chance at education that she never did.During festivals and religious functions, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/jumlas-great-leap-into-the-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">people in this region</a> dance the deuda, holding hands. Earlier, Nani Maya would have joined them, but these days she is too busy taking pictures and videos. Some of the dancers give her their phones to take pictures of them (below).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94b19c7e80680e06f217jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="984"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After a day at work in her shop studio when her husband come back from his job, Nani Maya turns to her household chores: collecting firewood to cook dinner."I am still learning to take better photos for my customers,” she says, as she inspects a visitor’s Canon EOS D7. “I want to save and buy a better camera like this someday.”This photo story was made during the International Storytelling Workshop 2021, hosted by photo.circle (Nepal) in collaboration with Oslo Metropolitan University (Norway) and Pathshala South Asian Media Academy (Bangladesh).

Monika Deupala

Portrait of a photographer in rural Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b932b9c7e80680e06f18ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1778" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: HERNE KATHA</figcaption></figure>The Euro 2020 matches are live on television, and many are watching the replays the next morning. But what is really going viral in Nepal these days is a short program of grandmothers playing a football match in the mountains of Lamjung district.Two teams made up of members of the local Mother’s Group of Siurung village face each other on a school football ground. The clip of the match is on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hernekatha" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">social media</a> accounts of the web series <a href="https://hernekatha.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Herne Katha</a>, and is accompanied by a running commentary, complete with slow motion replay of a free kick that is saved by goal-keeper Yoju Gurung.“We saw the grandchildren playing, and I thought why shouldn’t I also have a go at it before I die,” says 67-year-old Gurung.<blockquote>आजको फुटबल खेल पनि सुरु हुनै लागेको छ । आमा समूह दुई वटा टिममा बाँडिएका छन् । रेफ्रीले खेल सुरु भएको संकेत गरिसकेका छन् । लताकुञ्ज विद्यालयको रंगशालामा भइरहेको खेल हेर्न खचाखच दर्शक उपस्थित छन् ।<a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/chhotokatha?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#chhotokatha</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/hernekatha?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#hernekatha</a> <a href="https://t.co/QwD7FHIWoM">pic.twitter.com/QwD7FHIWoM</a>— Herne Katha (@hernekatha) <a href="https://twitter.com/hernekatha/status/1404419600905904137?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">June 14, 2021</a></blockquote>Posted on YouTube and broadcast on Kantipur Television every alternate Tuesday at 6:30pm, the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZuKpNyipL9W-OkKwCMwVNQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">web series</a> Herne Katha has uplifting stories of struggle, survival and triumph — a message especially important at a time when Nepalis are suffering such hardships.Manjuliya Devi walks briskly through her village Morang district, going house to house to cut the hair and trim beards of residents. She has little time to waste, wedding guests are lining up. Her son wants his elderly mother to stop working, but Manjuliya Devi says she will not stop.Near the Dang-Rolpa border, Yam Bahadur Gharti and his young son Purna Bahadur work in the districts’ coal mines, deep in the belly of the scraggly hills. Father and son have taken a break for lunch, and talk about families back home who depend on their earnings.In Surkhet, a clan of Raute nomads prepare to pack up their settlement and move on to the next in Surkhet. Their timeless method of Swidden farming is now <a href="https://nt.exposure.co/last-but-not-least" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">threatened</a> by roads and monetised markets.In Marpha of Mustang district, village elders are alone in the village below Dhaulagiri with their livestock and dogs. Everyone else has moved down to Kathmandu or Pokhara to escape the harsh winter.These recent programs on Herne Katha unite Nepalis by showing us the lives of other Nepalis, providing hope and optimism at a time when most have little of both. The series that began airing in 2018 is created by ex-BBC journalists Bidhya Chapagain and Kamal Kumar who are constantly on the road to the remotest corners of Nepal to profile ordinary Nepalis living extraordinary lives.Kumar and Chapagain met in 2003 when they took up a job at the same radio station. Kumar had come to Kathmandu after high school and enrolled in a journalism program, having, as he puts it, fallen into journalism. Chapagain had also always wanted to be a journalist. As their careers progressed, their paths would constantly cross.“In those early days, our work almost exclusively involved going to the Reporters Club and waiting around for the politician of the day to give their speech,” recalls Kumar.Chapagain nods, adding: “Or we would have to go to hotels to cover workshops and conferences.”They are seated, Chapagain on the floor and Kumar on a beanbag chair, and complete each other’s sentences with the ease of two people who have been colleagues for a long time.In locked-down Lalitpur, their office is quiet but for the sporadic rain outside and the occasional click of the mouse as the editor, Sandesh Pariyar, works in the other room on an upcoming project.Kumar and Chapagain both worked for BBC Media Action’s debate program Sajha Sawal as producers. Chapagain would eventually become the presenter of the popular show, a role that propelled her to celebrityhood.Yet even as their careers flourished, professional discontent had begun to creep in. The structure of the show, the Kathmandu-centred happenings, and interviewing politicians had become tiresome.The two got along and worked well together, and at tea break would talk about doing something different, something more fulfilling. When they quit the BBC they were still not sure about the next stage in their careers, and the only thing they knew for sure was that they wanted to keep working on video.Without equipment, they rented a small room as an office and started to brainstorm. Says Chapagain, “We got out of our comfort zone and took a risk. It was fearful and exciting at the same time.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b932f9c7e80680e06f18fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It was not until they were working on their documentary Marisakeko Manchhe, which won the Nepal Panorama Best Documentary at the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival, that they realised what kind of stories they wanted to tell. Herne Katha was born and uploaded its first video three years ago about young female Muslim students in Kapilvastu.“We had hoped for at least 20,000 views, but we got almost 50,000 in two days,” Chapagain remembers.Getting out of a structured media environment allowed the two to be more flexible and experimental. It also made them accountable for their own content, says Kumar.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b93339c7e80680e06f190jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3264" height="2448">Editor Sandesh Pariyar joins in the conversation, and says it is the power of the story that is most important. And it has to be told with a minimalist approach in editing and camerawork, so that there are no distractions from the story being told.Pariyar is a visual editor, and relatively new to the team. He says about his previous job, “I used to sit in the editing room and I could predict exactly what a politician would say and when even before I saw the clips. That is why I quit.”Three years on, things are changing, and the storytellers agree it is largely due to the increasing reach of YouTube, with 60% of Nepalis surveyed saying they use the platform.  Almost 70% of the Herne Katha viewership is in the 18-35 age group and the program is very popular in the Nepali diaspora.“Once, in a remote village in Achham, a young man asked if I was from Herne Katha,” says Chapagain, who says the views on YouTube and being frequently on the trending list proves that their program is spreading a powerful positive message.“Some of our best stories have come from the audiences themselves,” Chapagain says. One such program was Mayako Katha, about a family in Kupondole which takes care of 17 pets and other street dogs in its automobile workshop.Chapagain and Kumar say they are not activists, they believe they are doing the kind of ethical journalism they learnt about in college, keeping true to their own personal values.The program gets loads of feedback. Young people reach out to say the programs have made them understand their own country better. Teachers show Herne Katha videos to students in class.“Most people in the cities who interact within their circle of people on the echo chamber that is Twitter have not seen the country. On the other hand, a larger part of the country is unconcerned with the discourse on those platforms. They have their own struggles,” says Kumar, of the characters in their videos.Chapagain agrees that the mainstream media is also recognising the importance of grassroots storytelling, and that politics is not the only story.“Stories do not need to be issues at all, it could just be people going about their daily lives,” she says “And it is good to see evidence that the lives of ordinary Nepalis are worthy of being on the front pages.”

Shristi Karki

The extraordinary lives of ordinary Nepalis

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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