<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea49c7e80680e0bd559jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="960"/><figcaption>RIGHT IS MIGHT: Madhusudhan Ojha Is the general secretary of the Migrant Trade Union in Korea and is seen here participating in various street demonstrations for rights of foreign workers. Photos courtesy of: MADHUSUDHAN OJHA</figcaption></figure>When I was studying for the competitive Korean language test for migrant workers while in Nepal, I never imagined that I would one day be working as a labour activist here in South Korea.My sole intention to migrate overseas was to work and earn just like the 8,000 or so other Nepalis who join Korea’s Employment Permit Scheme (EPS) every year. But my initial experience in the country was not pleasant.On my very first day, even before I started work, I was scolded by my employer. I later realised that it was just a psychological tactic to show me who was boss. I was verbally, and sometimes even physically, abused.He would stand behind me and push me to do things quicker. After enduring this for some time, I sought help from the Nepal Embassy, labour counselors and work centres set up to help migrant workers like me.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries 1</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea69c7e80680e0bd55ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="468" height="727">I was unable to change my job because my employer would not give me the mandatory release paper. One of the agencies I approached did not want to take a secret audio recording as evidence of abuse, saying it needed video proof.Finally, I reached out to Korea’s Migrant Trade Union (MTU) which served a warning to the employer, and even threatened a demonstration in front of his office if he did not give me my release paper. He obliged – and I had just witnessed the power of a workers’ union. Before long I had become an office bearer of the MTU.Korea’s EPS is a huge improvement to the previous labour system, the Industrial Trainee Scheme (ITS) that brought in foreign workers as ‘trainees’. Workers had to pay exorbitant amounts to get these jobs that were mediated by the private sector, which meant it was not merit but ability to pay that decided the fate of job-seekers.Landing in Korea as a trainees meant they were also vulnerable to exploitation. Employers paid migrants at their discretion and got away with exploiting them. Workers who had paid high fees (sometimes up to Rs 1 million in the case of Nepali workers) would escape abusive employers or overstay their visas as they could not change jobs. The system itself was designed to encourage undocumented workers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries 2</a>, Nepali Times In 2003, there was a nationwide crackdown and deportation of workers, migrants protested and demanded the legalisation of undocumented workers for over a year. Activists of the movement were arrested, detained and deported. This united migrant workers and laid a foundation for the formation Migrant Trade Union.While it was founded in 2005, the registration of MTU with the Ministry of Labour as a legitimate trade union was at first rejected on the grounds that it included illegally employed foreigners who do not have the right to join labour unions. It filed a lawsuit against this decision and it was only ten long years later that Korea’s Supreme Court in 2015 finally ruled in favor of the MTU.By the time I came to South Korea in 2014, the struggle by my predecessors, including workers from Nepal, was already decades old. I never forget that I am standing on the shoulders of giants who laid the foundation for us to fight the good fight.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries 3</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721ea89c7e80680e0bd55bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1424" height="1440">And for us, the good fight is primarily for a Work Permit System (WPS) in lieu of the EPS. The EPS is indeed significantly better than the ITS, as workers are hired based on a limit and all workers can recuperate the standard recruitment fee within a month of employment. But although the system allows workers to change jobs up to three times legally, it requires permission from the employer which gives them disproportionate power.The WPS would allow workers to change jobs without employer consent and give more power to workers. Many workers continue with jobs they do not like because of the fear of repercussions – recruitment fees may not be a big investment for Korean jobs like elsewhere in the Gulf or Malaysia, but workers invest an immense amount of time, money and effort to pass the language exam to qualify for the EPS.Aside from our fight for WPS, we continue to shine the light on key migrant issues. Most recently, we demonstrated in front of the office of President-elect Yoon Suk-yeol calling for the elimination of discrimination via a comprehensive law and for introduction of the Worker Permit System.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-4/">Diaspora Diaries 4</a>, Nepali TimesDuring Covid-19, we advocated for worker rights to ensure the visa extension of current workers and against discriminatory testing requirement for foreigners and locals that was recalled soon after its announcement.Similarly, the Korean government has passed a decision that it is illegal for employers to place workers especially in the agriculture sector in ‘containers’ (temporary accommodations such as perforated plastic houses, warehouses). But the ban has still not been enshrined in the law which is what we are fighting for so employers can actually be held accountable.We look at other countries where Nepalis are working, and realise how much more privileged we are in Korea to have a recognised trade union as migrant workers. In many countries, unions for foreign workers are banned.We are also fortunate to have the backing of the powerful Korean Confederation of Trade Unions (KCTU) and others which amplify our voice, and also provide us with resources to continue our work as membership fees alone are not sufficient for the work we do. South Korea has a lot to offer for foreign workers, and the lives of migrant workers and their families back home do get transformed dramatically by the money we send home. But there is always room for improvement.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721eab9c7e80680e0bd55cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="509" height="720">Changes can be achieved if we continue to fight for them. Sometimes they are immediate, and at other times they take longer. But as long as we keep at it, reform is possible. When we look back and see how far we have come from where our predecessors in Korea started, there is much to be optimistic about.In 1995, 13 Nepalis wrapped themselves in chains and protested at the Myeondong Cathedral for over a week. They referred to themselves as ‘Nepalis job trainees sold to Korean soil’ and protested with signs against physical abuse by employers. There was no Nepali Embassy in Seoul at that time so the  ambassador from Japan had to be brought in to resolve the situation.The preceding year in 1994, there were nine undocumented Nepali workers who escaped abusive employers. They had paid exorbitant recruitment fees, were heavily in debt, and faced unpaid salaries and abuse. They escaped and prepared for protests with the Korean Confederation of Trade Unions since there were no unions for migrants back then.Such scattered protests by migrant workers including Nepalis have taken place in South Korea. Many foreign workers got deported in the process, but did not let this fear dissuade them from the struggle.  Their efforts lay the strong foundation for the Korean Migrant Trade Union that has provided an important platform for us to fight freely for positive, durable reforms for foreign workers here.Collective bargaining is a privilege we can enjoy because of the sacrifice and vision of our predecessors. We are simply continuing their struggle.Madhusudhan Ojha  is the General Secretary of Korea’s Migrant Trade Union (MTU).Read more:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fate-joins-then-separates-siblings/">Fate joins, then separates, siblings</a>, Anil Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/"> Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung

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Power of workers working together

<figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f779c7e80680e056e2ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina reaches out to touch her husband‘s face one last time before his cremation at Pashupati in August. Kedar Timalsina hung himself at a seafood factory in Busan where he worked. Photos: Ki Mindo/ The Seoul Shinmun</figcaption></figure>For many Nepalis, it is dream to find work in Korea where they expect to earn many times more than in Nepal. Yet, there is a dark side to the Korean Dream: between 2009 to 2018, there were 143 deaths of Nepali workers in South Korean soil, and of them 43 were suicides.The 31% suicide rate is much higher than workers from other nationalities. Among Burmese workers, there was a total of 51 deaths and 4 involved suicide, from 2011 to August 2019. Suicides rate is relatively low among Vietnamese migrant workers with zero suicide out of the 14 deaths from 2017 to August 2019.Most of these deaths involved E-9 non-professional employment visa holders who had been employed at farms and factories that suffer a chronic labour shortage. While these tragic deaths repeat every year, the South Korean government does not have a clue why so many migrant workers make such an extreme choice."Nepali migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system tend to be highly educated," notes Seo Seonyoung, a Sociology researcher at Yonsei University. “Their families have great expectation for them, but as soon in Korea they find themselves at the lowest rung of the workforce ladder. The unbearable stress could eventually force them to commit suicide." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7a9c7e80680e056e2fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A mother holds the photograph of her son, who suffered from depression while working in South Korea, and died after he returned. There have been 43 suicides by Nepali workers in Korea between 2009-2018.</figcaption></figure>There are growing voices calling for a systematic improvement to end the vicious cycle. The South Korean government has been trying to improve ties as part of its 'New Southern Policy' to balance its need for migrant workers to address the shortfall of workers.There are now 2.42 million migrant workers in Korea, and the number has nearly doubled in the past 10 years. Local farms and factories cannot function without migrant workforces.Hong Sung Soo, Law professor at Sookmyung Women's University says: "Discrimination and xenophobia towards migrants are not only inappropriate, but also not clever at all if we consider our industrial and demographic reality."Labour rights groups and health activists have been trying to find out why there is such a high suicide rate among Nepali migrant workers in farms and factories in South Korea."It is not just a single factor, there is a web of complex reasons that trap migrant workers towards the extreme choice," explains Jeong Young-seob, Co-director of the group, Migrants Act.A field survey in August of 141 migrant workers from Nepal by the Seoul Shinmun newspaper, Green Hospital and the Migrants Trade Union showed that there were four main factors: gap between expectation and reality of working in Korea, lack of exit, high expectations from loved ones back home, and ruined relationships in Nepal.Great Expectations = Great DisappointmentsTo aspiring Nepali migrant workers, South Korea is a land of opportunity, where they hope to earn five to eight times more than in a job back home. Even highly educated young Nepalis apply for an E-9 visa to South Korea. But when they arrive, they often struggle with harsh labour conditions and discrimination. Of the respondents in the survey, 28% cited a gap between the reality of their work and the expectations they had. Like Surendra, 28, who has been working in a mushroom farm for three years. He has a degree from Tribhuvan University.He says: "Before I came here, I was excited about earning Rs300,000 a month, but I had no idea about working and living conditions. Back home we rarely experience working for 12 hours without any real break. I was not even learning any skills, it was simple manual labour.”The survey showed that 45.6% of the respondents worked more than 52 hours a week, and 19% said they worked 60 hours a week, and only 26% said they had a normal 5-day work week.No ExitAfter working in South Korea for 16 months, Nepali migrant worker Shrestha, 27, jumped from the rooftop of his company dorm in June 2017. He had been suffering from insomnia as he struggled to adjust to alternate day and night shifts. His suicide note said: ‘I have been seeing doctors for health problems and sleep disorders. It did not improve. I wanted to quit and find another job but the company did not allow it. I wanted to go back to Nepal to recover, but the company said no.’ The survey showed that 71% of respondents had tried to find a new job, and 36% of them said this was because of long working hours and dangerous conditions.Migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system are allowed to change workplaces up to three times within a three-year period. But it requires permission from their employers.Hard WorkNo matter how harsh and hostile the work environment in Korea, returning to Nepal is not an option for most. It was not easy for them to come to Korea in the first place, and they carry the weight of their family's expectations on their shoulders."If migrant workers go back, the villagers would criticise them for forsaking a great opportunity, people will laugh at their failure and brand them weak. Caught between a rock and a hard place, many Nepali migrant workers commit suicide," explained Udaya Rai, the Nepali head of the Migrants Trade Union.Ruined RelationshipsWhat sustains migrant workers despite harsh working conditions in Korea is love of families back home. However, when their relationship collapses, it leads to great emotional stress. Tej Bahadur Gurung, 29, had two friends who committed suicide due to family or relationship problems.Kham Gurung, 45, recalled: "I had to deal with a family issue while I was working non-stop in Korea, but I couldn't afford to go back. That really tormented me."Naivety and lack of exposure to the outside world among Nepali youth who need better jobs to take care of their families creates a problem, says Kapil B Dahal of the Department of Anthropology at Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu.Dahal says there have been no systematic study of suicides among Nepali migrant workers in Korea, or elsewhere. The Korean Ministry of Justice keeps a record of the deaths of migrant workers by country, but does not have data on the cause of death."Nepali migrant workers in the Middle East and Europe also commit suicides, yet the Nepal government and politicians do not do anything. Nepali migrant workers make a great contribution to the country's economy, but their health is overlooked and their suicides are ignored," Dahal says.The Nepal Embassy in Seoul offers counseling services for migrant workers, but Udaya Rai of the Migrant Trade Union questioned its effectiveness. "They are not interested in addressing these deaths and suicides, they fear the South Korean government might slash the quota for Nepalis if we start to speak up. That is why they stay silent and hurriedly send bodies back to Nepal." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7d9c7e80680e056e30jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Wrapped in cardboard, the coffin containing the remains of Kedar Timalsina arrives at Kathmandu airport in September.</figcaption></figure>Kedar Timalsina, 28 A coffin was rolled out of the arrival area of Kathmandu airport recently. Inside was the body of Kedar Timalsina who hanged himself on 20 July in Busan inside the warehouse of the seafood processing factory where he worked."This paper doesn't say anything about why Kedar killed himself," family members at Kathmandu airport said, examining his death certificate from South Korean police.Kedar’s family could not understand why he would kill himself. It had been only 25 days since his wife Bandana gave birth to their first son. "I even heard Kedar threw a big party in Korea to celebrate the birth of the baby. Why would such a man kill himself? It doesn't make any sense," said Bandana’s brother. Kedar had an aging mother who just turned 60, and would need his care more than before.What further frustrates the grieving family is the silence and indifference from both their government and the Korean authorities. For the Nepal Embassy in Seoul its responsibility was over after shipping the coffin to Kathmandu. South Korean police never investigated surveillance camera footage at the factory, or forensics on Kedar’s phone. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f809c7e80680e056e31jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina with her son in her lap at their home in Dong Kharka village in September. The baby was only 25 days old when her father Kedar Timalsina took his own life while working at a factory in South Korea. </figcaption></figure>According to South Korean police, Kedar’s co-worker had told them he had recently purchased some land in Nepal, which turned out to be a fraud. Kedar’s family says that is not true because the land he bought two years ago had nearly doubled in price. None of Kedar’s personal belongings were returned to his family, and Korean police said the Embassy had told them the family did not want them back. The family said the Embassy had never contacted them about his belongings."We are responsible for confirming the identity and death certificate in order to promptly return the body back to family in Nepal. The Embassy does not send back items unless they are important," the Embassy of Nepal replied when asked about it.At the cremation site in Pashupati, Bandana wept as she caressed her husband’s face for the last time. “What do I do with our baby?” she cried. It took four hours for the fire to consume Kedar’s body, and with it his ‘Korean Dream’. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f829c7e80680e056e32jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Maiya Gurung looks at a picture of her daughter with her husband Bal Bahadur Gurung, who committed suicide by jumping off a bridge in Seoul in June. After failing to secure a new job, Gurung was facing deportation back to Nepal. </figcaption></figure>Bal Bahadur Gurung, 32 "He really loved the children. These kids remind me of my husband every time I see them," said Maiya Gurung, 28, wiping tears with a tissue under her shades.Maiya's husband Bal Bahadur Gurung jumped off the Wolleung Bridge in Seoul, on 12 June, and died instantly after being hit by a passing vehicle. CCTV footage showed Bal Bahadur walking nervously back-and-forth over the bridge several times, hesitating. He had become an ‘unregistered’ migrant two days ago, and feared deportation.Bal Bahadur entered South Korea with a proper work visa in October 2017. In March, he left the company and registered himself at the Ministry of Labor to find another job. Migrant workers automatically lose their right to stay in the country if they fail to secure employment within three months. Bal Bahadur went back to Nepal to spend a short time with his family then returned to Korea, but had no luck finding a job within the three month deadline.Maiya Gurung came to South Korea to take her husband’s remains. Her neighbours tell her that her husband looked so happy when he was visiting Pokhara two months before his suicide. Shocked by his youngest son’s tragic death, Bal Bahadur’s father, a former soldier, is suffering from amnesia.Maiya’s seven-year-old daughter asks her: “Did Daddy die?”“No,” she replies, “your father has gone abroad to work." Maiya Gurung weeps as she tells us later, “I want to die, too. But when I think of these poor children, I can't." <figure><img width="720" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f859c7e80680e056e33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English. He took his own life eight years ago in Korea after an altercation with a Mongolian worker.</figcaption></figure>Dhan Raj Ghale, 40 ‘I am enocent. I have no mistake. Company cheating me. I am no crazy […] company take my signiture [...] please investigation please’ This is the note left by Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English before he hanged himself in 2011 while working at a futon factory in Daegu City. Dhan even had a plane ticket booked to go back to Nepal.Upon seeing a Korean reporter in August in Pokhara, Dhan’s wife Man Maya Ghale, 48, and Dhan’s younger brother Bhim Raj Ghale, 36, recalled the events of eight years ago.Bhim said his older brother was a hard-working man who loved his family more than anything else in the world. “After seeing the letters, I thought Dhan must have been bullied at work,” Bhim recalled.Dhan also left another short letter written in Nepali: ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I once fought with another worker from Mongolia. I don’t know what that Mongolian guy told Korean people…’He also wrote twice to the manager of the company: ‘You don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t understand. Please tell me why.’ <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f879c7e80680e056e34jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Bahadur Ghale's brother Bhim with his suicide note at the family home in Pokhara in September.</figcaption></figure>The company, however, denied there was bullying, and that Dhan was never asked to sign any document. Dhan may have found Korea’s alternate day and night shifts difficult, and had been working night shifts for two months before his death. “My husband told me he could not sleep when he was working night shifts,” Man Maya recalled.Dhan’s daughter and son were ten and five at the time of their father’s death. Now they are in college and school. "I will never forgive those people who mistreated my father,” Dhan's son vows revenge, and the siblings have made joint promises to themselves they will never go overseas to work no matter what.Nevertheless, Man Maya and Bhim said they did not hate Koreans. “You see in South Korea, as well as in Nepal, there are good people and bad people. Sadly, my husband met bad people. I don’t want to blame all Koreans because of them. I just want those bad ones to be punished.”Some names have been changed.Ki Mindo is a reporter for The Seoul Shinmun key5088@seoul.or.kr These articles are reprinted under special arrangement with the Seoul Shinmun which published the <a href="https://www.seoul.co.kr/news/newsView.php?id=20191001500198">stories</a> in Korean on 23 September, 2019 as part of a Special Series titled 'The 2019 Migrant Report: Betrayed Korean Dreams'.More stories from Nepali Times on Nepalis in Korea:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-kafala-migrants-in-Korea,4025">Korea Kafala</a> by Om Astha Rai and Seulki Lee in Seoul<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korea-treating-Nepali-migrant-workers-right,2813">Doing it the right way</a> by Seulki Lee<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/interview-with-Korean-ambassador-Choi-Yong-Jin,2767">“Hope Nepal’s difficulties end soon” </a> Interview with Korean Ambassador hoe Yong Jin

Dead end of the Korean Dream

<figure><img width="1000" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a213f9c7e80680e041736jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Kim So-young, a leader of Seongdaegol energy transition movement in climate litigation fundraising night. Photo: SEULKI LEE</figcaption></figure>Helplessness and depression. That was how the Fukushima Disaster in 2011 affected middle-aged Seoul resident Kim So-young. A mother of teenage twin girls, Kim recalls the day of the nuclear meltdown in neighbouring Japan as a metanoia in her life.Now, other women like Kim are reacting the same way to the impact of climate change on erratic weather patterns in the Korean Peninsula.“I was actively mobilising mothers to run children’s library, but the moment I heard about Fukushima, I felt children’s education was futile if there was not going to be a future,” Kim, 47, said. “My instinct told me that what matters for our childrenis not a success but a physical survival.”The Fukushima nuclear disaster revived Korea’s mass environmental movement, and reset it to deal with the country’s energy transition away from fossil fuels to renewables. South Korea’s anti-nuclear movement since 1987 following the Chernobyl disaster resonated with public, especially mothers.A senior feminist researcher and current Gender Equality Minister Jung Hyun-baek notes that women in their 30s and 40s have emerged as key players in the anti-nuclear movement because of their concern about radioactive contamination. She notes in her 2013 paper in the Korean feminist journal Feminist Research that the anti-nuclear activism has now taken on climate change. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21429c7e80680e041737jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Women in anti-nuclear action in Seoul. Photo: SEONGDAEGOL ENERGY SUPERMARKET / FACEBOOK </figcaption></figure>South Korea has 24 nuclear power plants in service, and two of these were commissioned after the Fukushima accident. According to Ministry of Trade, Industry and Energy, five additional nuclear plants are under construction and all to be completed by 2030.Even after witnessing the nuclear power plant accidents in neighboring Japan, South Korean government has added nuclear power and is eying the export of nuclear energy technology to other countries like UK and Saudi Arabia.“In fact, current electricity supply exceeds our demand. We don’t need another nuclear power plant, we could actually shut down some of existing plants,”said Kim Bok-nyeo, a director of Won Buddhism Environmental Solidarity Institute of Anti-Nuclear Information Research.Total electricity consumption in South Korea was 497TWh while the total supply was 540TWh with a 43TWh surplus in 2016. Kim argues that the country can immediately close down all 24 nuclear plants when its total electricity generation is 22.5GW.Civil society is dismayed that the current Moon Jae-in administration is planning to expand nuclear power till 2022 when there will be 27 nuclear plants of 27.5GW, and only then reduce them to 18 nuclear plants of 20.4GW capacity in 2030.In July 2011, Kim So-young from Seongdaegol, home to 24,000 households in Seoul, started to call and send emails asking for support to environmental groups in the country drawing attention to nuclear energy but to no avail. So, Kim just got her community to conduct a nuclear energy study group with youths in the children’s library during summer vacation.Her initiative took off after securing a seed fund of $2,000 from the local environmental NGO Green Korea. Since then ‘Seongdaegol Energy Supermarket’ under Kim’s leadership went viral as a success story of community-based energy transition and climate change action in South Korea, Taiwan and Japan. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21459c7e80680e041738jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Seodaegol Energy Supermarket is a renewable energy cooperative led by community women. The main project is to sell micro-solar panel with financing package. Photo: SEONGDAEGOL ENERGY SUPERMARKET / FACEBOOK</figcaption></figure>The Supermarket is a renewable energy business cooperative, designed to make profit by selling energy-saving home appliances, installing micro-solar panels with financing packages and giving extracurricular classes on climate change and energy to secondary school students. The cooperative now employs five full-time staff, all mothers, and strictly keeps to the founding motto ‘make profit from energy transition to renewable energy in the community’.“We could continue doing this for last eight years because our approach was to establish a community energy business model and we never worked for free. If we did it as public service and one-time campaigns, we will not be able to penetrate the mind of busy and practical Seongdaegol community,” explained Kim.Visitors to Seongdaegol notice the relatively large number of female elderly population. The Seongdae traditional market is crowded with old women in shopping trolleys. The alley ways between houses could become an open kitchen for mothers when making Kimchi in a large volume.“There used to be a big traditional market along the main road, but it lost its vitality. However, the traditional ‘Maeul’ or village community spirit of mutual help lives on,” said Park Il-woo the owner of Daeryuk bookstore in Seongdae Market.With this community bond, women gave birth to three energy cooperatives in the community, middle school, and traditional marketwith 600 members. The Seongdaegol model inspired the Seoul metropolitan government to officially launch the Energy Self-reliant Villages Project and One Less Nuclear Power Plant policy in 2012.Kim So-young emphasised the importance and benefits of women’s leadership in the community-level movement. “Mothers hold the remote control and the knife. Which means they can control day-do-day  energy and material use,” said Kim So-young.For 2019, the Seongdaegol community is looking at the first-ever Korean youth climate litigation. About 50 youths and nine lawyers are studying the similar cases from US and Japan. The decision came after local legislative election in June 2018 when young Koreans learnt that not a single candidate addresses climate change issue in their manifesto.Unlike in 2011, the youth climate litigation team now has support of members of environmental NGO, Seoul metropolitan government, the Green Party, and presidential advisory board. After the fundraising event ‘Hotter the Love, Cooler the Earth’, the team raised over $10,000.The litigation team foresees challenges in every step of the process. The social stigma of anti-government civic group toward youth is another concern of supporting adults.“We are talking about possible consequences based on our experience in history, but the youth are very cool and fully committed because the climate change is about their future and a matter of justice,” said Kim.

Korean women mitigate climate change

Who is accountable for teacher-student relationships?

Of the nearly 19 million eligible voters in next week’s election in Nepal, an estimated 5 million are abroad and cannot cast their ballots. Many others within Nepal must travel to their home districts, and might decide not to because of the cost.
Flights into Kathmandu these days are full of global Nepalis returning just to vote, but almost as many are leaving for overseas jobs. Most of those coming or going are in the 20-40 age group, and a majority want Nepal to see a change in leadership.
Bangladesh held an election this month in which citizens overseas could vote by mail.&nbsp;
“Bangladesh made maximum use of technology not just for campaigning but also for polling itself. We could have also managed this, so people within Nepal did not have to travel to their home districts to vote,” says Mohna Ansari, former head of Nepal’s National Human Rights Commission who was an election observer in Bangladesh.
A 3-day holiday has been declared so people can travel to their home constituencies to cast ballots. Even if there was not enough time to manage ballots for overseas Nepalis, it could have been done for Nepalis within Nepal.
Former Chief Election Commissioner Bhojraj Pokharel reckons that physical voting in countries with a large Nepali diaspora would have been a logistical nightmare, but in the PR system, using electronic voting machines or paper ballot could have been piloted in some places. It is not possible to manage the entire voting process until we introduce the internet voting system.
“First of all, there needs to be political will to bring the policy and be ready to undertake that level of investment and it is not a one-time cost,” Pokharel says. “A government formed by the GenZ could have atr least issed an ordinance ensuring this right, piloted out-of-country voting where possible, which could have built pressure for the future Parliament and the government. It would have given people hope. It is a lost opportunity.”
All major political parties called for voting rights for global Nepalis in their manifestos, but these very leaders blocked legislation allowing it despite a 2017 Supreme Court ruling out of fear that it would be anti-incumbent.&nbsp;
<h2>Why so late?</h2>
Bangladesh delivered election results in just one day, but the final results of Nepal's last local polls in 2022 including that of Kathmandu constituencies took nearly a month.
Acting Chief Election Commissioner Ram Prasad Bhandari said this week that the results of the First-Past-The-Post (FPTP) ballot counting would “likely” be published within 24 hours of the poll closing at 5PM on 5 March. But many are skeptical.
“I wonder if we lack the capacity or know-how to announce results as quickly as possible,” says Mohna Ansari.
Former Chief Election Commissioner Pokharel says manual ballot paper counting in Nepal is inherently slow because of the large numner of political parties and/or candidates on the ballot, the counting mechanism, the political behaviour of the candidates/parties and some managerial issues during counting.
“Our present policy is to count all the ballot papers at the returning officers' officies, located at the district headquarters. It requires collecting ballot boxes safetly first. This takes time, and there have been cases of ballot boxes being damaged or stolen during transport. In a few highly difficult, geographically remote polling centres, we use a helicopter or transport. But sometimes, accommodating the party and candidates' representatives remains challenging,” explains Pokharel. A solution could be counting ballots at the very booths where they are cast.
Another reason for the delay is simply the number of political parties, and the need for each ballot paper to be examined by booth representatives for consensus. In close races, the smallest difference can lead to tense situations, further delaying results, even though counting centres are protected by metal fencing so there is no disruption.
After this, then it is the turn of Proportional Representation (PR) ballots to be counted. Weeks pass by the time the results of candidates and parties are tallied and verified. But the most common delay is because election officers think ballot counting is a nine-to-five job.&nbsp;
“The efficiency of poll station officers is most important, and they are incentivised for this,” says Ansari, adding that counting can even start within an hour after voting closes.
In remote areas, local resources could be mobilised to make counting quicker, but there is a crisis of trust, adds Ansari.&nbsp;
That could be easily solved with electronic voting which the EC implemented in the 2008 polls but discontinued because political parties felt the machines could be hacked or manipulated.

Nepalis Select Who To Elect

On Saturday, Iran retaliated with missile strikes on Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Bahrain and Qatar, a region where there are an estimated 2 million Nepalis working to send money home. In addition, thousands of Nepalis were preparing to board flights to Kathmandu from West Asian cities this weekend to vote in the 5 March election. Many are said to be stranded at various aviation hubs. A Qatar Airways flight from Doha took off just before the air space was closed, while Air Arabia and Kuwait Airways have diverted or cancelled flights. Nepalis in the West Asian region said things were relatively calm where they were, although some heard loud explosions at about noon local time. In Dubai, some thought they were Ramadan fireworks.&nbsp; In Kuwait, nearly 2,000 Nepalis working in the US military base as security guards and cleaners were evacuated before the strikes. In Bahrain where the US Fifth Fleet naval base is located and which was hit by two Iranian missiles, workers contacted by Nepali Times said the situation was under control and the authorities had told everyone to stay indoors and not use highways. The conflict also coincided with the beginning of Nepal’s trekking and mountaineering season, and tourists were either on their way or planning to leave European and North American cities for Himalayan hikes. Most of them transit through Doha, Dubai or Kuwait and all three airports are closed. Turkish Airlines flights via Istanbul are still operating.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260228130212_ab5e132d56da1df6a3fb1b6919648f845a168ad2c51d79f7587fb85a6e913b97.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260228130212_ab5e132d56da1df6a3fb1b6919648f845a168ad2c51d79f7587fb85a6e913b97" data-rendition-name="original" width="1864" height="826" loading="lazy" alt="Qatar and UAE airspace closed"> <figcaption>Qatar and UAE airspace closed. Credit: Flightradar24</figcaption> </figure>  However, the main impact for the world could be a spike in the price of petroleum products if the strategic Strait of Hormuz is blocked. China relies on Iranian oil for their refineries, and Nepal could be affected indirectly if the economies of its neighbours are hit. Nepal imports all its diesel, petrol, LPG and aviation fuel from India which sources it mainly from the Gulf, and until recently from Russia. Petroleum makes up 25% of the value of all imports, and that is more than Nepal earns from all its exports. Saudi Arabia this year overtook the UAE as the main destination for Nepali workers, with the number now totalling 400,000. There are said to be as many in the UAE, and another 350,000 in Qatar. There are another 100,000 mostly women in Kuwait, and 50,000 each in Oman and Bahrain.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260228130220_d24ae633ff84f283835434becdb2f1351f84c415ce87ca34378bd4e2669661b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260228130220_d24ae633ff84f283835434becdb2f1351f84c415ce87ca34378bd4e2669661b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="West Asia Iran conflict"> <figcaption>Iran retaliated with missile strikes on Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Bahrain and Qatar on Saturday.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal receives nearly $11 billion a year in remittances from overseas Nepalis (not counting India) through official channels, although the total is said to be much more. &nbsp;This makes up more than a quarter of Nepal’s GDP equivalent — one of the highest proportions in the world. More than half of the overseas remittances to Nepal comes from its workers in the Gulf, and it is the mainstay of the country’s economy. Nepalis in Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the UAE alone send home more than $3 billion a year, much of that helping support their families back home. An average Nepali worker in the Gulf sends home nearly $2,500 a year, and this is spent mainly for household supplies, children’s education and healthcare. There are also an estimated 7,000 Nepali caregivers and healthcare workers in Israel, and most of them are women. The Nepal Embassy has asked Nepalis in Israel to take caution and move to bomb shelters.

West Asia war and Nepalis

If you did not watch the understated movie उनको स्विटर / (The Woolen Sweater) after it was released in May last year, you missed a major turning point in Nepali cinema. Much-hyped films fall short of expectations, but here is an exquisitely acted and directed production with a strong underlying message of tolerance. What a contrast from formulaic melodramatic Kollywood fare — a love story so simple, cinematography so subtle in capturing the beauty of the monsoon on mountain pastures, and a background folk song accompaniment that evokes the flavour and tenor of multi-ethnic eastern Nepal. Since its release, Unko Sweater received praise in Nepal, but it was in multiplexes across Nepaliphone India where the movie became a rage. Positive reviews spread by word of mouth on social media, where the script, performance and camera work were praised for reflecting a genuine and unsullied rural Nepal. The movie is a layered portrayal of caste, ethnicity, gender and culture with the tender romance between the shy Dharanidhar Kafle (Bipin Karki) and Phool Gurung (Miruna Magar) in which the two, despite being soulmates, have to deal with societal norms and gossip. They do this without rebelling, in their own quiet way. In the first scene in a crowded jeep, people are seen discussing an election. An elderly greying Kafle is headed home, and the rest of the movie has back and forth flashbacks revealing the story of his unspoken affection for Phool. But there is an undercurrent of ethnic rigidity. When Kafle’s brother Dambar elopes with Iksha Limbu, the repercussions are borne by both families. Then Kafle’s uncle is banished for being an outcast.&nbsp; Miruna Magar as Phool, as an ebullient woman, is in contrast to the introverted Kafle, who does not say much but has a melodious singing voice. As the plot thickens, Kafle is shown to be bound by circumstances that pose obstacles to his love for Phool. The storyline delicately shows how life and situations constantly force people to shift direction. Despite underlying differences, the various castes and ethnicities in this fictitious village near the Sikkim border get along because they have to. There is an interdependence between highland farmers and other ethnicities living down the valley that is at the heart of Nepal’s ethnic harmony. Despite taboos about interethnic and intercaste relationships, people still have trust and faith amongst each other. There is no time reference to the story, but it does speak of a nostalgic era decades ago when rural Nepal was not yet connected by roads and phones, when people had no choice but to get along. Things have changed now with outmigration, and education has blurred ethnic lines. A QUIET LOVE Director Nabin Chauhan is not in your face with his message, giving viewers a hint of deep rooted traditional values that still govern society. Each character adds to the storyline, validating the way they behave, pushing the plot forward.&nbsp; There are many emotions that are intricately woven into the plot, and the most prominent, of course, is love. Not the showy, lustful way it is shown in flamboyant formula films, but a quiet bond that does not need words, a silence, a glance and a gesture conveying the universe of love. When Phool asks Kafle what he will do if they cannot be together, he says he will build her a house with a beautiful garden of flowers in the meadows where he herds livestock. He builds it awaiting her return, while Phool knits him a sweater, the symbol of their interwoven love. In screenings of the film in Nepal and India, there has not been a dry eye in the audience. The background score and music by Kobid Bazra and the powerful rendition by Jhuma Limbu of the ‘Kafle’ strike a strong chord. The cinematography by Chintan Rajbhandari does not glamourise Nepal’s rural landscape, it is shown in its raw misty beauty as a constant backdrop. The viewer is uplifted by the notion that love transcends social restrictions and orthodoxies.&nbsp; The ending is left deliberately unfinished, possibly to make way for a sequel which we can only hope will be as compelling as उनको स्विटर. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260301060348_42480e8b6934c9a5c518c44c2970748b341bbbf290c2b303b6aa6359d883567b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260301060348_42480e8b6934c9a5c518c44c2970748b341bbbf290c2b303b6aa6359d883567b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="560" loading="lazy" alt="Unko Sweater"> </figure>  उनको स्विटर / (The Woolen Sweater) Artmandu Nepal, 2025 Directed by Nabin Chauhan 145 minutes Available now on YouTube <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lCgtmgiII7M?si=MirwKOwKmxE3jLS6" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>