When the United Nations held its Summit of the Future at its headquarters in New York in September, many world leaders, including Nepal’s Prime Minister K P Oli, highlighted the effect of climate breakdown in increasing the frequency and intensity of natural disasters. What did not get as much attention was the long term impact of the climate crisis on food production. In fact, heat stress, weather extremes and the consequences on rain-fed agriculture is already being felt worldwide, undermining the chances of the <a href="https://unstats.un.org/sdgs/">UN’s Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs)</a> being met by 2030.&nbsp; The SDG’s 17 targets commit countries like Nepal to reduce poverty and inequality, end malnutrition, protect the natural environment, and ensure that citizens all enjoy health, justice and prosperity without leaving anyone behind.&nbsp; However, besides the impact of climate breakdown on agricultural production, in Nepal the area under cultivation is impacted by urban expansion, falling productivity and the need for expensive inputs like fertiliser and pesticides.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_626413c5baf4dae407ac9579231b41daeb51510aa636b75aeb7489d94cca6a62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241019041052_626413c5baf4dae407ac9579231b41daeb51510aa636b75aeb7489d94cca6a62" data-rendition-name="original" width="999" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Kathmandu's urban sprawl is eating into its fertile cultivable lands. Photo: TAYLOR MASON</figcaption> </figure>  Now, a new study led by Nepali researcher Prajal Pradhan at the University of Groningen in The Netherlands looks at how urban agriculture may offer a solution to falling food production and meeting SDG targets. The researchers evaluated 1,450 publications exploring the contributions of urban agriculture with both positive and negative effects, and published their findings in the journal Cells Report Sustainability. Urban agriculture can help achieve 17 SDGs, positively influencing 81 targets. However, it could also undermine 51 goals.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-vanishing-land">The vanishing land</a>, Taylor Mason “Urban agriculture offers immense potential for sustainable development, but realising this potential depends crucially on adopting practices that minimise its adverse effects while maximising its benefits,” Pradhan explains. Urban agriculture can substantially enhance urban food security, provide employment to the urban poor, serve as ground water recharge in built-up areas, and preserve open spaces that can serve as safe havens during disasters like earthquakes. However, it also presents problems like the potential health risks from contamination and the need for expensive inputs. &nbsp; “Urban agriculture plays a definitive role in advancing the SDGs, but achieving this requires tailored, context-specific solutions that address the unique challenges of different regions,” says Yuanchao Hu of Wuhan University in China and who is a researcher at the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research. “But it needs equitable access and rigorous management of environmental risks.”&nbsp; Rapid urbanisation is eating into Nepal’s most fertile agricultural land, which means farming in remaining open spaces inside cities can be a viable alternative, especially as food prices rise.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_7b7c9413086226fbdc630d45acf772cfa1ced77a8970b9056ec5ec7e5226fdf8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241019041052_7b7c9413086226fbdc630d45acf772cfa1ced77a8970b9056ec5ec7e5226fdf8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>A vegetable patch in between new houses in Thimi. Photo: TAYLOR MASON</figcaption> </figure>  “The conversion of Nepal’s most fertile land into cities is a severe problem,” Pradhan told Nepali Times. “Crop cultivation, horticulture, agroforestry, beekeeping, livestock rearing, or aquaculture can all be farming activities within and around cities.”&nbsp; The study makes recommendations for sustainable practices that build on the positive aspects of urban agriculture while mitigating the downsides, thereby promoting more resilient cities in future. Research shows that urban agriculture has been helping many countries attain SDG targets by enhancing food security and biodiversity while helping education and preservation of open spaces.&nbsp; Indeed, many farmers from the hinterland who have settled in Kathmandu Valley or other urban areas of the country have been practicing urban agriculture, leasing neighbourhood patches or cultivating roof gardens both out of necessity because of inflation and falling income to grow their own food, and also as a fulfilling hobby. Saurav Dhakal, a sustainability advocate with Story Cycle and now research fellow at the Asian Institute of Technology in Thailand, says there are socio-economic and environmental benefits of urban agriculture. “It provides benefits to all urban dwellers, regardless of their income status,” says Dhakal, “families get fresh food, and there are many other benefits like water retention, heat regulation and biodiversity. These are all public goods, so special government incentives may be needed.” It is not unusual to see vegetable patches and even paddy fields within inner city Kathmandu where an older generation of farmers are using available fertile land and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/rooftop-gardens-kathmandu,1415">roof gardens to produce fresh, nutritious food </a>to reduce their dependence on food items that have to be bought after being trucked in from large distances.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024101905100_1291ce98dbbb8caed8702ac4b1d469b3e13016d7ecaaf3bfd5f91c974d3c0c77.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024101905100_1291ce98dbbb8caed8702ac4b1d469b3e13016d7ecaaf3bfd5f91c974d3c0c77" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>An older generation of farmers are using any available fertile land to continue farming but it is getting more and more difficult. Photo: TAYLOR MASON </figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s urban population grew rapidly from only 3.6% in 1991 to 25% today. There is large outmigration from the mountains to peri-urban areas of the Tarai, to Kathmandu Valley and Pokhara, with many young men then moving abroad for work. Kathmandu Valley’s population has swelled to nearly 3 million, and is growing at 6.5% a year. Dilip Shrestha, 71, used to work for Nepal Food Corporation, so he knew firsthand about inflation, shortages and vegetables with pesticide residue. So, when he designed his new house in Kathmandu, he built a spacious roof where he grows cucumber, ginger, garlic, coriander, onions, tomatoes, chili, beans, okra, pumpkin and lettuce. His family eats healthier, and he has reduced dependence on the market.&nbsp; The co-author of the Cell Reports Sustainability journal article, Daya Raj Subedi who is a PhD candidate at Beijing Forestry University, says urban agriculture also promotes inclusion and psycho-social wellbeing.&nbsp; He says, “A crucial finding of the study is the identification of opportunities and challenges associated with urban agriculture, it can promote sustainable transformation of society.” In Banepa, 55-year-old Bijaya Manandhar in her lifetime has watched the fertile farms of her neighbourhood that used to supply vegetables to Kathmandu, now completely built up with no open space left. The pandemic lockdown prompted her to turn to the family’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/rooftop-agriculture-on-the-roof-of-the-world">ancestral livelihood by growing food</a> not on terrace farms, but on the roof terrace. Manandhar is now a part of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/rooftop-agriculture-on-the-roof-of-the-world%5C%5C">कौसी खेती र करेसाबारी क्रान्ती</a> (Rooftop Farming and Garden Revolution) which has an online membership of 52,000, and awards annual prizes to women who excel in urban agriculture.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_7257f5def8f823f35a799fa6f6825e153f2ffa406ac11325d4fe74049b79e96d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241019041052_7257f5def8f823f35a799fa6f6825e153f2ffa406ac11325d4fe74049b79e96d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="736" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Rooftop farming is gaining popularity as a form of urban agriculture. </figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241019041052_beff1a4494ce896dd8fd383ee1f518e5448bcf7ea8bb138255391c7bcb9769ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241019041052_beff1a4494ce896dd8fd383ee1f518e5448bcf7ea8bb138255391c7bcb9769ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="3000" loading="lazy" alt="urban agriculture in Kathmandu"> </figure>  Pradhan says the challenge now is to upscale such examples of successful urban agricultural practices so they support Neal’s efforts to meet SDG targets. He adds, “Crop cultivation around cities can be protected by land use plans and regulations. Promoting community-based agriculture, including rooftop gardens, requires community engagement and public-private partnerships across the food value chain.”&nbsp; Such support would accelerate the popularity of existing rooftop farming and community gardens in Kathmandu Valley, or kitchen garden initiatives in Pokhara, and building on traditional farming practices that are preserved and integrated into urban settings like in Bhaktapur and Banepa. In Lalitpur, the Women Entrepreneurship Facilitation Center promotes urban farming enhancing both sustainability and empowerment.&nbsp; Another co-author of the report, Yuanchao Hu from China says followup research of the team will aim to identify good practices in local urban agriculture practices. He adds, “There are examples of urban agriculture that optimise sustainability, ensuring that it remains a viable solution for cities globally while countries try to meet SDG targets.” Prajal Pradhan, Daya Raj Subedi, Kshitij Dahal, Yuanchao Hu, Prakriti Gurung, Sijal Pokharel, Sagar Kafle, Biplav Khatri, Sudeeksha Basyal, Monika Gurung, and Aruna Joshi. Urban Agriculture matters for sustainable development. Cell Reports Sustainability, 1:100217, 2024. [DOI: 10.1016/j.crsus.2024.100217] Prajal Pradhan (<a href="mailto:p.pradhan@rug.nl">p.pradhan@rug.nl</a>) This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20240630110640_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG logo"> </figure>

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Back to the land in the cities

Kathmandu Valley, once known for its bumper harvests of rice, has seen declining production because urban expansion is devouring once fertile rice fields.&nbsp; There are still some terraces on the outskirts of the city that have rice fields, but even these are threatened by new settlements. The same is true of Pokhara Valley, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/pokhara-tries-to-save-its-famous-paddy" target="_blank">home to Pokhreli, Jetha Buda</a> and other brands of indigenous rice. The middle of Asar is time for rice planting, and 29 June was the supposed to be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/not-so-soon-monsoon/" target="_blank">National Paddy Plantation Day</a>. It is a festival not just for transplanting paddy seedlings on water-logged fields, but also for jubiliation and merrymaking. This year, there was not much to celebrate on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-celebrates-paddy-planting-day/" target="_blank">Paddy Planting Day</a>. Only 10% of farms across Nepal have transplanted paddy seedlings, whereas the normal figure for end-June is double that.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100624_89fa0f1ab01aa249120c080bda65230d98bfd9799adf6f066b16c56cc1bae611.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240630100624_89fa0f1ab01aa249120c080bda65230d98bfd9799adf6f066b16c56cc1bae611" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice plantation Nepal"> <figcaption>An excavator makes way for land plotting even as a child prepares to plant rice saplings in Bhaktapur's Sipadol this week. </figcaption> </figure>  The monsoon has been starting weeks later than its usual arrival in Nepal in mid-June, which many experts <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-hits-himalayan-rice" target="_blank">blame on climate breakdown</a>. This year, the rains actually arrived a week early in the aftermath of Cyclone Remal, and unleashed floods and landslides in eastern Nepal in mid-June, while the western half of the country was enduring a prolonged drought. The clouds did advance up to central Nepal, but the rains fizzled out. When the monsoon did arrive in Kathmandu Valley on 27 June, it had been too little too late. Kathmandu Valley usually received 250mm of rain in June, this year the figure so far has been only 125mm. The chronic lack of subsidised fertiliser during the planting season due to an inefficient government procurement and delivery mechanism also meant that many farmers were not ready to transplant paddy even if the rains came. Rice is grown in Kathmandu and other mountaion valleys, in the Tarai and up to 3,200m in Jumla, which is famous for its nutritious <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/himalayan-red-rice-is-red-hot" target="_blank">red Marasi rice</a>.&nbsp; The Tarai is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-rice-economy" target="_blank">Nepal’s rice basket</a>, producing most of its paddy. Although the plains cover 15% of Nepal’s area, 53% of the population lives there. Here too, settlements along highways and major intersections are eating into rice fields.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100632_051ccb4df85ee10f1f44fc67a32b3d6666bf438c00b9f5a51ef2df5fab5a0b01.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240630100632_051ccb4df85ee10f1f44fc67a32b3d6666bf438c00b9f5a51ef2df5fab5a0b01" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice planttion in Nepal"> <figcaption>Kathmandu's unrestrained growth as seen from Halchok in 2020.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100632_68dff2295cf039e50ad743ece4bb1473fd55e9c36e571f92259a882a073b558e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240630100632_68dff2295cf039e50ad743ece4bb1473fd55e9c36e571f92259a882a073b558e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice production in nepal"> <figcaption>In this photo from 2021, hills in the outskits of Kathmandu Valley have been cleared for land development. </figcaption> </figure>  So far this year, rice planting has started in only 3% of the area of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/grain-drain" target="_blank">Madhes Province</a> because of the delayed rains and a prolonged heatwave. The province produces a quarter of Nepal’s rice in a normal year. The western Tarai has been particularly badly hit by a heatwave that lasted into June with daytime temperatures soaring to 45°Celsius and staying there. Rainfed farms have not planted rice, and those that used to pump water from tubewells have not been able to do so because of a falling watertable.&nbsp; Outmigration from rural areas and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/agroecology-nepal-s-answer-to-climate-change" target="_blank">falling rice production</a> has become a chicken-or-egg story: is rice production falling because people are turning away from farming, or is declining paddy production driving people away from agriculture? The annual Rice Day has therefore become not a time for celebration, but a reminder of how much <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/are-nepalis-really-eating-more-rice/" target="_blank">Nepal is more dependent on the import</a> of rice than before. Nepal spent Rs35 billion last year to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-agro-imports-at-all-time-high/" target="_blank">import rice and paddy</a>, which was a slight decline from the previous year, but is still more than all its exports. Nepalis are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/are-nepalis-really-eating-more-rice" target="_blank">eating more rice</a> than ever before as people turn away from traditional grains like millet and buckwheat, and because of a falling poverty rate as well as the spread of the road network.&nbsp; Still, the country’s population growth rate is outpacing increase in rice harvests. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-price-of-rice" target="_blank">Rice productivity</a> has hit an all-time high of 3.8 tons/hectare with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nepal,2378" target="_blank">irrigation and mechanisation</a>, but total production is not increasing as much because of a decrease in area under rice cultivation. Nepal once used to be a rice exporting country. If current trends continue, Nepal will be spending nearly everything it earns from remittances in importing petroleum products and rice.

Pouring concrete on rice fields

For a year or two after the 25 April 2015 earthquake, the residents of Kathmandu were too terrified to return to their high-rise apartments. None of them collapsed in the 7.8 disaster, but many sustained serious structural damage. &nbsp;
Fast forward nine years, and they have all but forgotten that frightful day. Kathmandu is back to building substandard structures, even as land prices drive developers to build taller.&nbsp;
With no more space to spread horizontally, Kathmandu is going vertical. But structural engineers say most of the high rises do not take into account seismicity, soil condition, construction methods, quality of raw materials, fire hazard, and search and rescue in collapsed concrete structures.
“Much of our focus since the 2015 earthquake has been on building and construction, but not as much on where we are building,” warns Sangeeta Singh, Professor of Urban Planning and Deputy Director of Centre for Disaster Studies at the Institute of Engineering.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state">In a disastrous state</a>, Sonia Awale
She adds: “Kathmandu is not really suited for high-rises. We have to first test the condition of the soil, but building permits are being issued without this fundamental step.”
Kathmandu Valley is a former lakebed with soft topsoil prone to liquefaction and excessive shaking, as seen during the 1934 megaquake. Many ruptures tore up the surface in 2015. &nbsp;
During an earthquake, the rock layers below Kathmandu ring like a bell and the vibrations on the surface take between 0.5 to 2 seconds for one oscillation. Buildings also vibrate, but at different frequencies depending on their height, construction material, and arrangement of their structural components.
At five floors, the vibration period of a building is 0.5 seconds, which is the same as that for Kathmandu Valley, and this could cause more damage, says structural engineer Surya Narayan Shrestha at the National Society for Earthquake Technology - Nepal (NSET).
“Building anything that is five storeys or higher in Kathmandu needs special design and structural considerations,” says Shrestha.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/shaking-things-up">Shaking things up</a>, Editorial
Technologies exist to reduce seismic risk in high-rises, and these are used in earthquake-prone cities like Tokyo, Los Angeles, Jakarta or Mexico City.&nbsp;
Base isolation, for example, separates the vibration of the land and the building, reducing damage from soil-building resonance. Base isolators move and stretch under pressure, absorbing much of an earthquake's impact by reducing swaying and shaking. &nbsp;
Seismic dampers change the pattern of vibration altogether, dissipating energy as vibrations move across a structure. But these are all expensive technologies, and none of the high-rises in Kathmandu use them.
However, Nepali engineers who can help with technology transfer are working in the field in Nepal and overseas. Kathmandu’s high-rises are already very expensive, and making them seismic-resistant would be an incremental cost.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/learning-from-jajarkot-what-we-didnt-after-2015-695vpzle">Learning from Jajarkot what we didn't after 2015</a>, Sushil Gyewali
The shape of high-rises also matters. Reinforced concrete buildings with asymmetric designs of the kind that are seen in newer structures in Kathmandu experience more torsion and shear during quakes. High-rises with regular geometry are stronger. &nbsp;&nbsp;
An even bigger concern is that of emergency evacuation and rescue in case of fire or earthquake. Kathmandu fire services do not have ladders that reach the higher floors of most new structures.
“High-rises mean more people and potentially higher casualties,” explains Shrestha. “We need immediate evacuation routes, fire escapes, emergency ladders, and fire trucks that can reach higher. Right now, safety features are voluntary and not mandatory.”
The street access, shelters, open spaces, and evacuation routes are integral to disaster preparedness and the safety of neighbourhoods and not just buildings. Most new high-rises in Kathmandu have narrow access roads.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later">Rebuilding resilience 7 years later</a>, Anil Pokhrel
Since most of the buildings that survived the 2015 disaster were reinforced concrete structures, it fed the misconception that they are safer. But Himalayan seismologists say that if the intensity and duration of the shaking had been just a little higher, many substandard concrete structures would have collapsed.&nbsp;
And that is the final gap: Nepal’s limited expertise and equipment for search and rescue inside collapsed concrete structures. Kathmandu’s high-rises need to be better prepared for the next Big One.
“Structural safety and design were at the front and the centre after the 2015 earthquake, we also revised some building codes but we are back to square one with contractor-driven construction, especially in peri-urban areas,” says Sangeeta Singh, who is also with the National Planning Commission. “We need to monitor construction as much as design.”&nbsp;
Shrestha at NSET agrees there have been improvements in building practices in the past nine years, but adds, “We have both learnt and unlearnt lessons from 2015. The awareness hasn’t yet translated into action on safety.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu">Lessons not learned from 2015</a>, Sonia Awale

Sonia Awale

The rise of high-rises

<figure><img width="1600" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2af9c7e80680e0d3031jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Green onions grown recycling plastic waste at Manandhar’s rooftop. Photo: BIJAYA MANANDHAR</figcaption></figure>When the Covid-19 pandemic disrupted food supply, Bijaya Manandhar, did not anticipate that her life would be ruined upside down.Her hometown of Banepa has seen the city expand rapidly, obliterating much of the surrounding fertile plains. So the 52-year-old just went back to her ancestral livelihood — not on terrace farms, but on her rooftop terrace.“The food on my plate now comes from my roof,” says Manandhar proudly. “We had to regain our food self-sufficiency during the pandemic so we had no other option but to grow vegetables in our roof garden.” <figure><img width="1600" height="1145" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2b39c7e80680e0d3032jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bijaya Manandhar tending her rooftop garden. Photo: BIJAYA MANANDHAR</figcaption></figure>Manandhar is part of an initiative Kausi Kheti and Karesabari Kranti (Rooftop Farming and Gardening Revolution) which has an online membership of 52,000.More than half the world’s population now lives in urban areas, and 80% of all food produced globally is consumed in cities. In future, the socio-economic and environmental sustainability of food systems will largely be determined by the diet of urban and peri-urban inhabitants. In Nepal, the urban population has spiked dramatically from 3.6% in 1991 to 6.5% in 2001, and is now 21%. Most of the migration took place during the conflict, and later families moved to urban areas for jobs. Kathmandu Valley, with an estimated population of 2.54 million, is growing at 6.5% per year, as one of the fastest-growing metropolitan areas in South Asia. <figure><img width="720" height="540" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2b79c7e80680e0d3033jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Women gardeners participating in Kausi Queen Competition 2078 organized in coordination of Banepa Municipality. Photo: BIJAYA MANANDHAR.</figcaption></figure>A survey in August 2020 found that one in every five households in Nepal during the pandemic did not have enough food to meet daily calorie requirements. Manandhar remembers as a child helping her family during the seasonal farming cycle, planting, weeding, harvesting. But there are now tall houses where her family farm once was. “The land is no longer for planting crops now, they now plant buildings there,” she says, gesturing at the houses from her rooftop. <figure><img width="1398" height="930" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2ba9c7e80680e0d3034jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Aerial images of house roofs with urban farming in Kanthu Tole, Banepa. Photo: GEOMATICS ENGINEERING SOCIETY, KATHMANDU UNIVERSITY.</figcaption></figure>Once known for its succulent vegetables that supplied the market in Kathmandu, Banepa is now the site for a research project by the Geomatics Engineering Society of the nearby Kathmandu University to study the scope for rooftop farming in the municipality. The study mapped roof spaces suitable for farming using OpenStreetMap to create geospatial data. This was a pioneering study, and could be upscaled nationwide if successful.“Our research not only tries to shed light on the trends and benefits of rooftop farming, but creates a baseline survey, database and information to be used in the future,” explains Rehana Shrestha, Doctoral Researcher at Universität Bremen and adviser to the urban rooftop farming project in Banepa.While the idea of rooftop farming is quite common and widely practised, the data regarding buildings, houses, and people practicing it in any peri-urban areas were thus far unavailable. That is why the open source OpenStreetMap (OSM) came in handy, as a platform to identify buildings with suitable roofs. The researchers still needed high-resolution imagery to map out Banepa’s buildings and roofs in detail.  <figure><img width="1397" height="933" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2c09c7e80680e0d3035jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Aerial images of house roofs with urban farming in Bhakteshwar, Banepa.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1412" height="933" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2c49c7e80680e0d3036jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Photo: GEOMATICS ENGINEERING SOCIETY, KATHMANDU UNIVERSITY</figcaption></figure>“We initially identified buildings, studied their types and shapes,” says Sushma Ghimire, a geospatial analyst. “Then we identified flat roofs and their types and created a database of the six wards in the municipality. Using OpenStreetMap, we have digitised every building footprint.” The research and database in Banepa could serve as a way forward in urban agricultural planning and policy-making that newly-elected local governments could implement. Locals like Bijaya Manandhar are on the frontlines of this research, since it is her expertise in farming that will make or break the experiment.  The project has the full support of Banepa’s newly-elected municipal officials, who have allocated a budget line for urban farming. Deputy Mayor Bimala Sapkota says: “To help rooftop farmers we will also distribute compost bins to turn kitchen waste into fertiliser and also train them in rainwater harvesting techniques.” <figure><img width="895" height="1012" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2c89c7e80680e0d3037jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Maps showing temporal urban change in six wards of Banepa Municipality since 2000. Photo: GEOMATICS ENGINEERING SOCIETY, KATHMANDU UNIVERSITY</figcaption></figure>The OSM and geospatial data have also helped identify areas with water shortage by presenting a detailed overview of roofs and water tanks available in houses spread across different wards: for instance, the maps have shown an absence of rooftop tanks in Ward 7, indicating water scarcity. At Kanthu Tole, farmers use plastic bags, pots and styrofoam as containers to grow food on, and Narayan Thapa of the Geometrics Engineering Society says farmers can also experiment with vertical farming to increase the area under cultivation. Researcher Rehana Shrestha is confident that the project will infuse a new passion for rooftop farming, especially among younger members of households.“Projects like this provide opportunities for the empowerment of youth, cultivating a generation of young leaders, to create resilient communities,” she says. “And with climate-induced disasters, urban farming is more necessary than ever.” Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/four-years-later-nepal-farmers-rise-from-the-rubble/">Four years later, Nepal’s farmers rise from the rubble</a>, Lisa Choegyal

Rooftop agriculture on the roof of the world

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221207101212/639059869c7e80680e0ce1f3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1139" height="640"/><figcaption>All photos: GOPEN RAI</figcaption></figure>Over the last decades, Nepal’s socio-political transformation has led the country from an agriculturally-dependent rural nation to a country with expanding urban spaces.Although rural Nepalis are still dependent on farming, the contribution of agriculture to the country's economy has shrunk to 25%, while the expansion of banking, telecommunication, trade and other service sectors has been rapid.The Kathmandu Valley has nurtured 2,000 years of civilisation and culture, and is among the oldest and largest cities south of the Himalaya. Its thriving non-agricultural economic activity remained the one true Nepali urban centre for much of the country’s history -- to the extent that citizens outside of the city called it ‘Nepal’ in the past, considering the city a nation unto itself.The evolution of most cities outside the valley has emerged as a relatively new trend, after the expansion of trading centres along Nepal’s southern border following the extension of railway lines in north India by the British towards the end of the 19th century. Subsequently, cities in the hills — like Tansen, Dhankuta and Pokhara — emerged after the establishment of state administrations.However, access to road infrastructure like the East-West highway — which facilitated an increase in economic activity as well as migration from the central hills to the fertile southern plains—played a significant role in the establishment of major cities like Hetauda, Narayangad, Damak and Mahendranagar.But as many cities as there are now, most of them share similar characteristics: unorganised settlements, improperly managed urban infrastructure, and unequal access to opportunities. Urban planner Jagdish Chandra Pokharel says, "Nepal’s cities are chaotic because an adequate inclusive blueprint to make them liveable does not exist, and cities have little urban character to them because expansion often takes place without planning."Rather than urbanisation, Pokharel adds, there has been a “ruralisation of cities”.In the 2017 Nepal Labor Force Survey conducted by the Central Bureau of Statistics, 36.2% of respondents said that their residence was different from their place of birth, showing an increasing trend of internal migration. There were only 16 urban centres across the country according to the 1971 census, and Nepal’s urban population was 3.6%. Kathmandu was the only city with a population of more than 100,000, while only five other cities recorded a population of more than 20,000.But migration to the Tarai expanded in the 1970s, and more cities formed. By the time Nepal became a democracy in 1990, the market centres of the Madhes were connected to the hills, and the urban population expanded rapidly.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221207101212/639059899c7e80680e0ce1f4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="961" height="640">Nepal’s urban population growth rate grew almost three times in the last decade of the 20th century, and beyond. Fifty years after the 1971 census, data from the 2021 census puts the number of cities with a population of more than 100,000 at 39, most of them in the Tarai where urbanisation is concentrated.Even as internal migration has impacted the evolution of cities in Nepal, foreign employment has also had a hand on where Nepalis have settled. Nepal’s lahure, who returned from the British Army, began to resettle in cities in the 1970s, leading to an increase in population density in cities like Dharan, Pokhara, Bhairawa and Kathmandu.In the 1990s, Nepalis began leaving in droves to work in foreign countries other than India, changing the socio-economic dynamic of the country. This resulted in remittance income changing production, consumption and lifestyle of Nepalis, enabling rural families to migrate to urban hubs in search of better education and healthcare.Moreover, the decade-long armed insurgency also contributed to in-migration as Nepalis began to move away from rural Nepal— mostly to district headquarters and to Kathmandu. Subsequently, the second People’s Movement centralised Kathmandu’s power.The World Bank's 2016 Moving Up the Ladder, Poverty Reduction and Social Mobility in Nepal report states that Nepal's urbanisation is the fastest in South Asia, with the urban population expansion outpacing its 4% increase in annual GDP growth in the last few decades.The federal restructuring turned many of Nepal’s villages into municipalities without any clarity as to the economic criteria for changing the status of local administrative units. This means that 66% of Nepalis now live in cities, according to the 2021 National Census, and a significant number of the municipalities do not have urban characteristics.Across the world, cities are defined on the basis of population density, access to infrastructure, and the existence of a non-agriculture economy. Indeed, even Nepal’s National Urban Policy, 2007, stipulates that in order to be declared an ‘urban area’, the population density must be at least 10 people per hectare with more than half of the population engaged in non-agricultural activities. However, most of Nepal’s new cities do not meet that criteria.Urban planner Mahendra Subba argues that in Nepal, cities are declared on the basis of political decisions rather than any scientific procedure, and the policies are as ambiguous as they come. The National Urban Development Strategy 2017, states that the urban system in Nepal is imbalanced, with poor urban infrastructure, and inadequate standards.Adds Subba: "Water supply management, safe roads, quality housing, clean air, sufficient open space and waste management are important challenges to address.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221207101212/6390598c9c7e80680e0ce1f5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1586" height="1126"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ruralisation of KathmanduThere is no better example to observe the flaws of urbanisation in Nepal than Kathmandu. Unsafe roads, polluted air, unmanaged traffic, inconvenient public transport, insufficient drinking water, garbage, and sewage mismanagement have become characteristic to the concrete jungle that is the capital.This disorganisation has not only taken away from the aesthetic of the city, but also increased disaster risks of earthquakes, floods and fire. Kathmandu is a city of villages.Access to water is at the top of Kathmandu’s problems. While global standards stipulate an individual have access to 120 litres of water daily, Kathmandu residents have less than half that amount.  In fact, Kathmandu’s population needs more than 450 million litres of water a day, but the supply does not amount to even a quarter of that. Even the Melamchi water supply project, which will bring 170 million litres of water per day, will not be enough to address Kathmandu's water shortage. The capital’s traditional Malla-era stone spouts have dried up due to haphazard urbanisation.Access to infrastructure is another problem. The city has become a maze of hazards navigable only by the rich and the able-bodied. Kathmandu has no organised roads for pedestrians, nor does it have disability-friendly structures. Even basic requirements like zebra-crossings are not maintained, leading to the deaths of dozens of pedestrians, including that of a Nepali diplomat right in front of the Singha Darbar recently.On the other hand, uncontrolled increase in the price of real estate is reducing access to housing for middle and low income citizens in urban centres. The nexus of banks, land dealers, investors and the government have monopolised land ownership in Kathmandu as well as cities across Nepal. Urban poverty and squatter settlements have increased.Urban planner Upendra Sapkota says that if affordable housing is not provided by the government and non-government sectors in cities including Kathmandu, squatter settlements will increase in the future. "Private housing companies should set aside at least 20% of their construction for affordable housing for the poor,” he adds.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221207101212/6390598f9c7e80680e0ce1f6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2250" height="1312"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Moving to the cityThe transformation of villages to cities is happening worldwide, and people have been leaving villages for cities for ages. The urbanisation of Nepal is therefore not a surprise, and may even be essential to raise living standards.“Urbanisation is not bad, but it is important to pay attention to what kind of urbanisation is taking place,” says urban planner Jagdish Chandra Pokharel.Increasing greenery and electric vehicles to reduce pollution, managing accessible and disaster-friendly housing to low-income Nepalis, and ensuring an inclusive space for Nepalis of all socio-economic backgrounds could be immediate steps to make cities more liveable.Systematic urban development also increases the ties of cities to villages, facilitating development in rural areas. Experts add that urban expansion is the right path to increasing access to infrastructure and socio-economic services in Nepal’s villages, which will go on to create opportunities and curb migration.“We should think about how to connect urban centres with villages so that facilities are extended to rural Nepal as well,” says another urban planner, Saroj Basnet.In recent years, discussions about urbanisation have extended to 'Smart Cities' and 'Satellite Cities'. However, there is no clear blueprint for building such a city, and discourse remains limited to political announcements.The National Urban Development Strategy has pointed out the need for additional investment of more than Rs12 trillion to build infrastructure in just 217 municipalities. By the year 2031, this need will reach Rs36 trillion.Mahendra Subba adds: “Although municipalities are legally entrusted with the responsibility of urban expansion, the technical, administrative and financial capacity of local units is not up to par." Indeed, even though the government has announced the creation of 10 big cities, there has been no real discussion or preparation regarding investment, availability of resources, or need.“Our urban policies have failed to address how to mobilise and distribute available resources to build smart cities,” says geographer and regional planning expert Pitambar Sharma, adding that cities cannot be built on political pronouncements alone.

Cost of living in a big city

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e2f9c7e80680e0bd52fmp4.mp4" title="" alt=""/><figcaption>Source: TROPICAL TIDBITS.COM</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1469" height="800" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e2f9c7e80680e0bd530jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Source: SCOTT DUNCAN</figcaption></figure>This spring, northern India saw the hottest March since records started being kept 120 years ago, and this week people in the Indo-Gangetic plains are bracing themselves for maximum temperature to hit 50°C. All this hot air is also affecting next-door Nepal.After sweltering through record March heat, Kathmandu’s average temperature this week was at a 53-year record. Dharan registered 35.7°C in mid-March, another record. People in Nepal’s Tarai are used to heat waves, but not in March and April. All this makes Kim Stanley Robinson’s 2020 climate fiction <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ministry-Future-Kim-Stanley-Robinson/dp/0316300136" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Ministry for the Future</a> prophetic. It starts with a town in northern India as it faces a deadly heat wave that kills most of its 200,000 inhabitants in a week. The facts of climate change induced heat stress are imitating fiction, and a dystopian narrative is becoming our new reality. “Heat, temperature and moisture combined will be the killers in South Asia, and if there is anything that will genuinely force people to respond to the climate crisis it is frequent heat waves, because unlike other episodic extreme events it is widespread and will impact everybody,” Ajaya Dixit of the Institute for Social and Environmental Transition (ISET) Nepal told us from New Delhi where the maximum temperature was 44°C on Tuesday. <figure><img width="1500" height="636" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e329c7e80680e0bd531jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Graphs: BINOD POKHAREL, Data: DHM</figcaption></figure>A recent study from 2000-2019 found that over 5 million people around the world died each year in that time due to extreme temperatures, with some 2.6 million in Asia – with most of the fatalities in South Asia. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/turning-on-the-heat/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Heatwaves</a> in 2010 killed more than 1,300 people from dehydration and stroke in Ahmedabad alone. Another severe heatwave in June 2015 during which the mercury hit 49.4°C caused the deaths of 2,500 people in northern India and 2,000 people across the border in Pakistan.Another heatwave in India and Pakistan in 2019 was the hottest and longest since the British started keeping temperature records, with the maximum at 50.8°C in Rajasthan. A similar but slightly less intensive heatwave in Europe in 2003 killed between 35,000-70,000 people.The World Health Organisation (WHO) Climate and Health country profile for Nepal predicts that under a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-doubles-its-carbon-footprint/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">high carbon emission</a> scenario, heat-related deaths in people above 65 years are projected to increase to about 53 deaths per 100,000 by 2080 compared to the estimated baseline of approximately 4 deaths per 100,000 annually. <figure><img width="1222" height="735" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e359c7e80680e0bd532jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption></figcaption></figure>While dry heat is still bearable because the body cools with perspiration, it is humid heat that is more lethal. And climate change is not just making the world hotter, but also wetter. For every 1°C rise in temperature, there is 7% more moisture in the atmosphere.This is called ‘<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-heat-is-killing-us/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wet-bulb temperature</a>’ that measures both ambient air temperature and humidity level to determine how hot it actually feels. For example, if it is 30°C with high humidity, it will feel much warmer. A wet-bulb temperature of 35°C is considered the maximum limit of heat and humidity that humans can handle. Beyond that, the body can no longer effectively cool itself via perspiration. A couple of hours of exposure to this without artificial cooling will mean that people will start dying of heatstroke and dehydration, with children and the elderly being the most at risk.“The climate crisis in the Himalaya is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the water crisis</a>. Heat stress is manageable as long as there is access to water, but that is not the case for the poorest in the Tarai,” says climate scientist Binod Pokharel. “Luckily, this week’s heat wave is mostly dry heat with lower humidity.”The rain that is forecast for Nepal from Thursday will cool things down, but it will also increase the humidity.  <figure><img width="1500" height="527" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e389c7e80680e0bd533jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The other factor making heatwaves more intense are densely populated cities of vehicle exhaust, concrete and asphalt which form what are called ‘<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/preparing-for-kathmandus-heat-waves/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">urban heat islands</a>’.  Ironically, the air conditioners city dwellers use to cool themselves indoors, is making it hotter still outside. There is a significant temperature gradient between the outskirts and Kathmandu’s city centre even in winter, which means the Valley does not have its characteristic winter fog anymore. On any given day, there is a temperature difference of 1.5°C  between Chobhar and Teku, even though the two places are only 3km apart.As more and more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-loses-its-open-spaces/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">open spaces</a> are built over and the greenery disappears, Kathmandu’s ‘heat bubble’ is going to get bigger. Warns Dixit: “The fast pace of urbanisation in South Asia is a serious threat and we are a witness to an unfolding disaster. Business as usual means higher cost of response, both financially and institutionally.”  <figure><img width="1500" height="568" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e3a9c7e80680e0bd534jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Photographic evidence of ice loss in Mt Everest, taken in 1921 and 2007 by George Mallory and David Breashers respectively.</figcaption></figure>He says the only solution is to start designing climate smart cities that restore open spaces and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/building-back-better-and-stronger-with-bamboo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">building houses with insulating material</a> and use or block sunlight, reducing the need for energy-intensive heating or cooling.The impact of increased heat in the Tarai, city centres and now even in the high Himalayan valleys is not limited to public health but will have consequences for agriculture, energy generation, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-must-prepare-for-climate-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">migration</a> and the glaciers.The hot and dry conditions this week have already fanned wildfires across the Indian Himalaya and in western Nepal. Although not as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/wildfires-ravage-nepal-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bad as last year</a>, Kathmandu has been shrouded in smoke haze for more than a month.  <figure><img width="1118" height="531" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e3d9c7e80680e0bd535jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Open spaces have been replaced with concrete jungle in Kathandu. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Having a good <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-needs-weather-stations-in-the-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">forecasting system</a> in place will help with preparedness, and save lives. But Nepal does not yet have its own standards to determine heat or cold waves, and relying only on the World Meteorological Organisation has limitations when it comes to localised projections.“Nepal needs to study its historical heat and cold waves and come up with its own standards and adjust it for the changing climate for better forecasting and preparedness at local levels,” says Pokharel. The Department of Hydrology and Meteorology (DHM) in Kathmandu is monitoring the heat wave this week, and despite projections of higher solar intensity <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-weather-elevates-air-pollution-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the smoke haze</a> has also been filtering the sunlight, lowering the maximum temperature slightly. “The heat wave conditions in the Indian plains this week is affecting us, and we expect more and more extreme heat events and anomalies made worse by the climate crisis,” says Archana Shrestha at the DHM.She adds, “Average temperatures will continue to rise and we have no other recourse than to be prepared. This means we have to rethink our <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/cars-vs-people-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">development pathways</a>, I’m genuinely worried about how concrete structures are coming, this is turning our cities into hot spots. We must prepare this and future generations for even hotter summers. This means the the health, finance, agriculture ministries should all be prepared, not just the environment ministry.”

North Indian heat wave hits Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205b09c7e80680e0b28cejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1118" height="531"/><figcaption>Kathmandu's dense settlement as seen from Halchok.</figcaption></figure>Owning a house is a mark of success in Nepal — much more so than elsewhere. And if that house is in Kathmandu Valley, then you have really made it.You might have a stable job and family, but unless you have a roof over your head that you own you are not settled by society standards. It could be a small house and the tiny plot, as long as it is yours.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15757#.YfSXGS2B2t8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Owning a house</a> is part of our everyday conversation in households. There is always someone talking about how they are building their house, how there is no water coming out of an expensive bore well, how a neighbour built a multi-story structure and blocked out all the sunlight.Homes hold a special place in our society that very few other things can match and it is reflected in our numbers too.Nepal may lag in several economic and human development indicators, but when it comes to home ownership rates, it is far ahead of the rest. Some 85% of Nepali households live in homes they own. Proportinately, more people in Nepal own the houses they live in than in the US, UK, and Germany.Most other countries with higher home ownership rates than Nepal, such as Singapore and Russia, were able to achieve it due to their strong social housing programs. The fact that so many Nepali families own their <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6200#.YfSXGS2B2t8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">own houses</a> with little governmental support is remarkable. Nepalis prize homes as their most important investment.But even with this high home ownership rate, thousands of new houses are built every year, feeding <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-vanishing-land/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the urban sprawl</a>. New apartments and housing projects come up to address demand.And yet, there are never enough houses to meet that growing demand. More and more cultivable agricultural land and green space are being turned into housing plots.Economically, it makes more sense for Nepalis to own their own house, even if it is at the very edge of the city. Unlike wealthier nations where buildings generally follow a standard national code for health and safety, most homes in Nepal function as isolated and self-sufficient units.Germany, for example, has laws that require housing units to have regular access to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/getting-our-shit-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">water and sewage</a>, Nepal has no such centralised directive. A house in a Berlin neighbourhood will have roughly the same level of access to water and garbage collection as the one next to it.A house in one Kathmandu neighbourhood may have a running water and sewage system, but only if the owner is able to drill for water and have a septic tank.In the US, if landlords build a house with cheap construction materials and endangers the lives of tenants, they can be taken to court and prosecuted. In Nepal tenants are completely dependent on the whims of the landlord.So, it makes sense that people would want to move into their own house where they can make their own choices rather than live under the tyranny of someone else.Even if the landlord is agreeable and the living environment acceptable, renting is not a long-term, financially sound solution. Given how the rents have soared in the cities, it makes more economic sense to build one’s own home.Houses in Nepal are not just places of shelter, but also of income. Owning a house doesn’t just save rental money it can also earn rental cash. In a country with very few mature investment opportunities, a home is a nest-egg. Many Nepali families sell off their homes in times of acute need: to send a family member abroad, pay hospital bills or marry off children.Homes become important at festival time, and Nepali culture places a lot of emphasis on communal gathering and cooking, all things that are more conducive in personally owned houses.Nepal has always had a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ground-reality-of-landlessness-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">historical home-ownership culture</a>. Until very recently, most of Nepal’s population lived in rural areas where land is plentiful and houses are built with local materials. There were few constraints on building and owning a home. Houses were within the reach of many people, creating a cultural legacy towards home ownership that has persisted.Ultimately, there is a universal and innate desire to own your own home.  In archaeological remains all over the world, we see human settlements created with a meticulous level of care.From the earliest cave paintings, humans have been decorating and creating a material environment. Building technology may have advanced, but this fundamental human desire to elevate personal space from a place of rest to one with meaning has not changed.Homes are where we spend the most time, they are where we create memories. They are an extension of ourselves. How they are built and look end up becoming a reflection of how we think, act and behave. That is why we seek to permanently own this extension.By owning our own house, we give ourselves more freedom. In the end, home is where the heart is, and who would not want to own their own heart?Avani Adhikari is a student of Economics and Urban Planning in Singapore.

Avani Adhikari

Home is where the heart is

<figure><img width="740" height="494" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01b99c7e80680e0a3641jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Every spring Kathmandu turns into a city of flowers blooming with jacaranda and bougainvillea. People wait year-round to escape the otherwise dull and dusty concrete landscape with a vibrant streets of purple, red and green. But very few people know that these beautiful roadside trees and their colourful seasonal flowers are ill-advised for our climate, and can increase road hazard. Trees shelter us from sudden downpours, and during hot summer days, we seek their refreshing shade. In fact, they reduce the temperature of the asphalt surfaces beneath them by as much as 15° Celsius.  Trees purify the air by sequestering carbon dioxide and giving off oxygen, they remove harmful gases and particulate matter. They improve the soil by assisting in nutrient cycling and help regulate surface and subsurface water. And they provide food and shelter to insects, birds, animals, and plants.However, not all trees are suitable for urban streets. We need to select them based on more than aesthetics and convenience. Ecological value and road hazards are equally if not more important considerations when choosing a species.Unfortunately, past strategies and the recent <a href="https://www.moud.gov.np/storage/listies/July2019/NUDS_PART_A.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">National Urban Development Strategy 2017</a> and <a href="http://dudbc.gov.np/uploads/default/files/ae0b4f05ccb43bd80c1e5c39e3f69267.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal Urban Road Standard 2076</a> have failed to provide clear guidelines for tree selection, leading to haphazard planting along Kathmandu’s roads. Concerns raised by ecologists, conservationists and locals over the years have gone unheard.History of street treesEarly records of roadside trees date back to the 14th century when Jayasthiti Malla (1380-1395) ordered plantations alongside streets and public wells. Later, Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana, brought back exotic species like Eucalyptus, bottlebrush (Callistemon), and Kaiyo ful (Grevillea robusta) from his Europe visit (1850-51) to decorate palaces and roadsides. <figure><img width="1000" height="700" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01bc9c7e80680e0a3642jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>More systematic efforts started in the early 20th century. Prime Minister Chandra Shumsher Rana (1901-1929) expanded Kathmandu’s road network and planted trees, introducing new species like Monkey puzzle (Araucaria araucana). Juddha Shumsher Rana (1932-1945) continued planting trees to beautify the roads like Putali Sadak, particularly after the devastation of the 1934 earthquake.Modern urban environmental planning began during the Panchayat in the 1960s and 1970s. The government renovated roads, mandating the planting of either a single line or double line of roadside trees. Part of the newly constructed Arniko Highway (Kathmandu to Kodari) and the Ring Road encircling the capital, had rows of trees on either side. In the 1980s, urban planners suggested three lines of green belt alongside the roads instead of previously mandated one-line roadside trees. As a result, more than a hundred thousand fast-growing trees were planted around the Ring Road.Rana and Panchayat planners were wrong to pick roadside trees such as poplars and eucalyptus based primarily on aesthetics and their fast-growing nature. In recent decades, Nepal has been steadily expanding its road network while integrating green belts, but planners have neglected the inclusion of criteria on species selection.Over time, attempts have been made to suggest a more scientific species selection. <a href="https://doi.org/10.3126/banko.v15i1.17042" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Researchers</a> have recommended over 300 potential species for urban forestry in Kathmandu, including a comprehensive list of suitable species that could be planted alongside roads. The list includes native and exotic trees and ornamental plants. These suggestions have been largely ignored.Mitra Pathak, research officer at the National Botanical Garden in Godavari says, “It is unscientific, we are planting whatever saplings are easily available.”Ecologically, the majority of trees planted around Kathmandu are misfits. Swami (Ficus benjamina) for instance is a weed, whilst Grevillea robusta, a deciduous branchy species, and Raj Sallo (Cupressus torulosa), are climatically unsuitable for the city.Urban environment expert Ramji Bogati also laments the lack of ecological criteria. “We should take into account factors like location, soil, nature of the species, in selecting roadside trees,” he says. <figure><img width="1500" height="1125" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01be9c7e80680e0a3643jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/342699040_Diversity_and_Species_Selection_in_Urban_Forestry_Reflection_from_Maitighar_to_Tinkune_Road_of_Kathmandu_Valley_Nepal" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Tinkune-Maitighar Road</a>, for example, is one of Kathmandu’s better-maintained green belt stretches. But despite having high species diversity, proper tree species selection has been disregarded. Planners mainly opted for exotic species that grow fast, with minimum care, and with a high survival rate instead of evergreen and local species. The 3.2 km road with four rows of plants consists mostly of non-native ornamental trees: fast-growing deciduous poplars, eucalyptus which lowers the groundwater table due to fast moisture absorption, and Jacaranda mimosifolia, an invasive species. Poplar and eucalyptus can damage foundations and develop cracks in pavements because their roots grow close to the soil surface. Some native species planted, such as birch (Betula alnoides) and silk tree mimosa (Albizia julibrissin), both deciduous and fast-growing, were poor choices owing to their open crown and drooping branches that are potential road hazards. Willow (Salix babylonica), native to central Asia, on the other hand, is a better choice because it is elegant, robust and tolerant to air pollution and injuries.Guides to roadside tree selection<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://tid.p3.gov.np/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/Nepal-Road-Standard-2070.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal Road Standard 2070</a> has three guidelines for roadside plantations: ensure good visibility by planting trees on sides and shrubs on the median, avoid wide-crowned trees, and ensure tree crowns do not cross the pavement's edge. Yet, even this fails to address important aspects of species selection. In particular, we need criteria to evaluate ecological, economic, and aesthetic values. <figure><img width="2056" height="1286" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01c19c7e80680e0a3644jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><ol><li>  Functional Criteria:Block noise, clean the air, control wind and provide safety and shade to vehicles and pedestrians, and habitat for urban wildlife.</li><li>  Ecological Criteria:Fitting for the soil and climate of the city, resistant to wind, pests, diseases and air pollution.</li><li>  Socio-Economic Criteria:Cost, care, longevity, and reflection of urban identity.</li><li>  Structural Criteria:Fast development, pruning-ability, strong root system, tree shadow, flowering and fruiting, future size, and diameter.</li><li>  Visual Criteria:Colour of leaves, flowers, deciduous vs. evergreen, tree dimension, road width, and planting arrays.</li></ol>Selecting appropriate tree species is often complex but if we engage urban planners, ecologists, and specialists of the field, we can create sustainable roadside plantation guidelines. <a href="https://www3.diism.unisi.it/~mocenni/Note_AHP.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Analytic Hierarchy Process (AHP)</a> is an effective tool to aid decision-makers to set priorities and decide the most suitable trees for particular roadside ecologically and aesthetically.We have to be cautious with the types of trees to plant along our roads, beauty can often be misleading. Carefully selected roadside trees can help reduce negative environmental and social impacts of urbanisation, making Kathmandu more resilient in the face of changing climate and overexploitation of nature.Meena Bohara, PhD, is a researcher of ecology and environment. She is the President of <a href="https://ncsc.org.np/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nature Conservation and Study Centre</a>.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01c49c7e80680e0a3645jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="100" height="103">

Right trees for right seasons in Kathmandu

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00ce9c7e80680e0a35f9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Kathmandu Valley's only landfill site Sisdole has reached its maximum capacity. All photos: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s capital stank for more than a fortnight before Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) decided to resume garbage collection this week with the Department of Roads agreeing to repair the route to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-load-of-rubbish-kathmandus-garbage-problem,4039" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Sisdole landfill site</a>, 30km away.Kathmandu’s only landfill Sisdole has already reached its maximum capacity, and every monsoon the rains damage the access road to the site with the locals having to navigate in knee-deep sludge. The overpowering stench from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/industrial-scale-litter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">heaps of garbage</a> is enough to make residents sick.“Our water sources have been contaminated and farms are infertile. The road leading up to here is in a sorry state and yet the concerned people pay no heed,” says Bimala Balami of Sisdole.“From sunrise to sunset that mountain of garbage is all we see, we inhale the bad smell more than we do oxygen,” she adds.This is echoed by her neighbour Sangita Balami: “The odour from the garbage dumped here is there all hours of every day, there is no respite, people are getting sick.”The residents started a protest when a 70-year-old woman died on 22 August, attributed to a possible <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/kathmandu-in-the-time-of-cholera/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cholera outbreak</a>. The local authorities brokered a deal with an agitating group obstructing the movement of vehicles with a 14-point agreement on Wednesday when the cholera suspicion was proven to be unfounded.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00d29c7e80680e0a35fajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00d59c7e80680e0a35fbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00d99c7e80680e0a35fcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00dc9c7e80680e0a35fdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The garbage trucks and containers are now on the move, but it will still take a week for the municipality to manage to lift litter off the streets. Some 15,000 tonnes of waste have been piled up in different parts of Kathmandu Valley because of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/recycle-reuse-reduce-garbage-kathmandu,1279" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lack of proper solid waste disposal</a> in the past two weeks.Stretched over 38 hectares, the Sisdole landfill is located on a gorge that is now not just full, but has grown into an enormous mountain of garbage. When it was first turned into a landfill site in 2006, the KMC proposed to use it only for three years but 17 years later, 75% of about 1,200 tonnes of daily <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-covid-19-plastic-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">waste generated in Kathmandu Valley</a> ends up here in Nuwakot.Under normal circumstances, up to 200 vehicles dump the waste in Sisdole daily, which is later pushed around the site by an excavator at a height of about 200 meters.“Back then the government had acquired our land for the site, we were promised jobs,” says Bimala Balami. “But they were distributed unfairly. Some people here receive annual grants from the government but others don’t even get a penny.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00e09c7e80680e0a35fejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00e39c7e80680e0a35ffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00e79c7e80680e0a3600jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00ea9c7e80680e0a3601jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Rapid and unplanned growth coupled with poor municipal management has meant that <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Kathmandu-waste-management-problem-solution,1416" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu has always had a garbage problem</a>. Kathmandu needs another landfill site and the proposed alternative Banchare Dada, 1.9km west of Sisdole, has been under construction for years.The Ministry of Urban Development had signed a contract with Lumbini Koshi and Neupane JV in April 2019 to complete the work at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/what-will-nepal-do-with-its-e-waste/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Banchare Dada</a> within a year. The project will cost at least Rs346.8 million with the 91 hectare site estimated to be usable for 25 years. But more than two years later, the new landfill has no completion date in sight.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00ed9c7e80680e0a3602jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00f09c7e80680e0a3603jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00f49c7e80680e0a3604jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Exactly 50 years ago in 1971, the first international consultant on solid waste management had studied Kathmandu's waste management system and proposed a landfill site.In 1996, after a 15-years-long effort by the Germans to set up a waste management system in Kathmandu, a German fact-finding mission concluded that the problems relating to municipal waste management in Kathmandu are not technical in nature, and the <a href="http://www.martinchautari.org.np/files/SINHAS-Articles/SINHAS-Vol.1-No.2_Bhushan-Tuladhar.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">constraints to developing environmentally sound, cost-effective and sustainable solutions</a> are institutional, organisational and financial.Studies have shown that segregating waste would cut the volume of trash by half, since up to 70% of the daily collection is biodegradable. We know what the problem is, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/making-money-from-garbage-in-kathmandu,2055" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">we know what the solutions are</a>, but there is little political will to follow through.There has been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-entrepreneur-turns-trash-into-cash/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">interest from the private sector</a> to recycle the organic waste, plastic, metal and glass, and install an incineration plant to generate electricity from the rest, but the project got stuck in the bureaucracy with reports that officials demanded kickbacks.Says environmentalist Bhushan Tuladhar: “Kathmandu’s solid waste mismanagement is once again making headlines as it does every monsoon. Unfortunately, the main obstacles to a solution have remained the same for the past five decades.”

A load of rubbish

Tom Robertson

Kathmandu's ‘flash floods’ are 4 decades in the making

Between the 1980s and 2000s, over 5,000 <a href="https://download.ssrn.com/11/01/06/ssrn_id1736064_code1383023.pdf?response-content-disposition=inline&amp;X-Amz-Security-Token=IQoJb3JpZ2luX2VjEBkaCXVzLWVhc3QtMSJIMEYCIQCiYUc7BuJ7zaDn%2BOTCFOWBgNKqYarnapqY%2FWZbamFVsgIhAOC%2FPFXHR9Dx6xTicWMj5%2BJXdIEGZ7LxKRyjrCe61Ng9KsYFCPL%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2FwEQBBoMMzA4NDc1MzAxMjU3IgzWD1Y1XNz2kaOS3jEqmgX0TbxyBTTrZrpd%2B5N72pFzJAwc%2BxTF8Dc0GnVG2tUGUYyxBt1YmfEqAw5cdOuRCZV23SSKkJwndg9IwI3yrjZGBp9XKxg4lK4Vq0Qy9RMmma5hNCVnA2T0MwGghlnmkgWPZA5ouZPiKFAecf4PE5qml2fu1wj72LEAig5R77cN6nC6%2BxTcygMiuiHrR9yZB4RyvTD9s58avGqUcn9hcIUdku3ydvAGVEgczzgEMCesRMtSgqzHz3E9bju9QLR5RpcDRp0wptfQ89uGXgyBGLCX%2BAl6uareSxQCSaDOthP4PmswWI7y7kBJbQp1pZq8r56Yoa3Qf5WVtmxbsWmDtbOsaSBa0yB6EIS8RKFGeQ%2Bcz%2BnEsOoPHIS%2BqO1k1%2BQuihjN0T66SnWFo8rl8Cv2g4GghY9p9DR3wopBJ6cE%2FtDJMY%2BZ03LkUwS%2Fc7ckyaRpfPX5g6Bb9J56a%2BNA5lnIV5o%2Fpjp%2BZJaVIvEzciyzzTwP58wznmcy3xppvK%2BwXBzBR96cPMXKTdNv9%2FqJ5jlnsgSRJpHWE3UyHbFucwQYXi19i7mCglFSuSkkL5Tg9nQWvXpuP9Z9VmMlQfQ%2F%2FpsfA6KlL81K3UK%2Bp%2FJB2mxQD9SYexZvAf1g21NUSF%2F8I19orsNrT6LutAnoJU%2FOTgO3qMbdgnR%2FuBytI3POnQAEIfbG0Za%2FrEDJ9j8CEbasNXsBMqkx8JKGRG2PUHMRC2xl5Z%2BNIbpsqGB8t%2BvAt40osDpgZStiyeiGdC1nMakUzZtBjWlttzoirCdemwPKJ8M%2BEohj2%2BLEN92yaOKdFewns0gjh%2BUxcotGvBo%2F7QZFappBNjLlR0PyanjcuB4MndEQjeIrd67ntscTKiLDI%2FfzwCHulsl6nbMpewpWFAYwg67guwY6sAGb3VJ2q%2F36hWhrVa8igP2hswnnLlcIU2uhOZa5ge2hCXkUYhL1BcSJfoWy2LwrWCXtdFo%2BT7KMU3p6O3jySdxSop8F4iO%2BJBiXVjSiXm%2FqZo3ri8sVwUgo4ksJI%2BT4AbfK3D3VGYapBgU5LdX%2FjkNwSVoR1vz4vMIyF56i7MKeYG1nFLgc0l9cIjrQI6eY869uIbgZ1XKqqBsuavCbYjSbSy7dMP0QSym%2FgmoWILGE0Q%3D%3D&amp;X-Amz-Algorithm=AWS4-HMAC-SHA256&amp;X-Amz-Date=20250103T172339Z&amp;X-Amz-SignedHeaders=host&amp;X-Amz-Expires=300&amp;X-Amz-Credential=ASIAUPUUPRWE65YAH56X%2F20250103%2Fus-east-1%2Fs3%2Faws4_request&amp;X-Amz-Signature=9b654b526e0779da4fa9f54e2fcde04ac9f7e91fb50d4f8094b1039ebb19e21b&amp;abstractId=1736064">Nepali children were adopted abroad</a>, primarily to the United States, France, and Spain. While international adoption was intended to provide vulnerable children with better opportunities, child trafficking and irregular practices prompted Nepal to suspend adoptions in 2007, and overhaul its policies. By 2010, stricter regulations aligned with the <a href="https://www.hcch.net/en/instruments/conventions/specialised-sections/intercountry-adoption">Hague Adoption Convention</a> drastically reduced adoption numbers. Today, many of these children, now adults, are returning to Nepal in search of their roots, only to encounter a society that no longer recognises them, legally or socially. Behind the statistics lie the <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01GRNPPXAC1Z3AETV9HARNCG5Q">deeply personal and emotional journey</a> of adoptees returning to reconnect with their past, seek family, and rediscover a sense of belonging. These stories reflect a broader struggle for identity and the complexities of bridging two worlds. Maya Adopted at 9 by a family in Barcelona, Maya carried fragmented memories of her early life in Nepal including the painful recollection of the day her mother and sister vanished, leaving her and her younger siblings behind. She had faint images of her mother, elder sister, and the village where she once lived. In June 2017, Maya came to Nepal accompanied by Chandra Kala and two friends, Jay and Vikram. With only a few photographs of her mother Tulsi, her elder sister Pargati, and her brother-in-law Kamal, along with a street name, Maya arrived in Birendranagar after a 20-hour bus ride from Kathmandu. “Now that we’re close, I feel like I can’t face them,” she confessed to Chandra Kala, wrestling with anxiety about what she might uncover. “I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll recognise them or if they’ll recognise me. I don’t know how they’ll react or what they’ll say. And then there’s him [Kamal]. I have such bad memories of him. I don’t know if I can handle this.” Chandra Kala reassured her, reminding her of her courage and the importance of this moment. Maya and her companions asked around the town with little success until a shopkeeper recognised Kamal and directed them to a nearby village. Jay went to confirm and returned excitedly, shouting, “It’s her! It’s your sister!” Maya froze, paralysed by fear and anticipation but she pushed ahead. At the village, Maya’s sister Pargati initially struggled to recognise her. Jay introduced Maya: “Do you recognise her? This is your younger sister. She’s come all the way from Spain to find you.” Slowly, realisation dawned, and the two women embraced, bridging the decades of separation with tears and disbelief. The next day, Maya met her mother Tulsi in an emotionally overwhelming reunion. Tulsi rushed into the room and embraced Maya tightly, sobbing uncontrollably: “Mero chhora-chhori, gaye, gaye… my children they went, they went …” Once the tears subsided, Tulsi and Pargati began recounting the heartbreaking circumstances of their separation. After the death of her husband, Tulsi faced relentless judgment in their village when Kamal stayed with the family before his marriage to Pargati. The villagers accused Tulsi of impropriety, calling her पापी (sinful) and demanded that the family leave. “We didn’t want to leave, but the village didn’t want us here,” explained Pargati. “We left intending to bring you and your siblings later. But when we returned, you were gone.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250103120140_da7482d222e0a03b783c5e1df25536ed416d7b7475442e7fd40e54451572142e" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>An adoptee and companion return to Bal Mandir in Kathmandu after 19 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  Tulsi recalled how she had entrusted Maya and her siblings to relatives, hoping they would be cared for temporarily. However, when she returned, the children had been sent away without her knowledge. “I only trusted them because I had no other choice,” Tulsi said through tears. “I didn’t know they would send my children away. What kind of mother does that make me? They called me a bad mother, but what else could I have done?” The reunion brought healing and answers but it also exposed the societal pressures that had fractured Maya’s family. Despite the challenges, Maya spent the rest of her visit bonding with her sister, nieces, and younger half-sister, Sunita, slowly bridging the gaps created by time and distance. Maya’s journey was a testament to the courage required to confront the past, the pain of uncovering difficult truths, and the hope of rebuilding connections once lost. Her story highlights the enduring emotional complexity faced by adoptees navigating their history and identity. Ashmita Unlike some adoptees whose main focus is reuniting with their biological family, 26-year-old Ashmita’s priority has been to uncover the institutional details surrounding her adoption. She wanted to understand what the orphanage and the government knew about her background and why so much information seemed concealed. “I just want to know where I come from,” she said. “Even if I never find my biological family, having a better sense of the places and people connected to my story would mean so much.” For many adoptees, returning to Nepal is not just about reconnecting emotionally, it is about seeking formal recognition as members of the Nepali community. However, the legal framework in Nepal often fails to acknowledge their unique status.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250103120144_bf0158b7829cf5db44382d7386d3b123032adad3f9e10e28096b80cd09170ba6" data-rendition-name="original" width="384" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>A mother reunites with her don after 18 years. Photo: CHANDRA KALA CLEMENTE-MARTINEZ</figcaption> </figure>  In Nepali law, adoptees are left in limbo: their birth parents are not considered legal parents, and their ties to the country are effectively erased upon adoption. This lack of recognition creates significant hurdles, particularly in two key areas: accessing pre-adoption records and obtaining Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) status. Despite international norms like the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which guarantees the right to know one’s origins, institutions often refuse to cooperate. Orphanages and non-profits in Nepal, which hold critical pre-adoption records such as birth certificates and citizenship documents, frequently withhold this information, reflecting the systemic reluctance to provide transparency. In numerous cases, records that should include family names, addresses, or relinquishment agreements were either incomplete or falsified. These practices not only prevent adoptees from reclaiming their histories but also perpetuate their disconnection from their heritage. Ashmita’s initial requests for information from her adoption agency were met with delays and incomplete responses. When she turned to the orphanage where she spent her early years, she encountered even greater resistance. At one point, the director of the orphanage issued veiled threats. Nevertheless, Ashmita persisted and managed to find the name of the individual who had brought her to the orphanage. However, the person had disappeared, leaving yet another gap in her story. A breakthrough came when Ashmita accessed a police report that suggested she might have been born in a different municipality than the one in her adoption records, prompting her to seek help from local authorities. The police took an interest in her case and began investigating possible connections to her birth family. While progress was slow, they meticulously followed leads to help her trace her origins. “It’s not easy,” Ashmita said of the process. “But every small step feels like I’m piecing something back together.” She also noted that societal perceptions could add to the difficulty. At times, she felt questioned about her identity and her right to seek answers. “People have asked me why I care so much or even suggested that I’m not Nepali anymore because I was adopted abroad,” she reflected. Ashmita’s story is a complex account of persistence in the face of institutional and personal challenges. While her search has not yet provided all the answers she seeks, it continues to offer her insights into her early life and the systems that shaped her adoption journey. &nbsp;“These records are sealed for a reason. They are not meant to be reopened,” said a government official. Even an NGO representative said: “It’s better for everyone if the past remains in the past.” An orphanage director asked: “Why are you asking these questions? This is not your place anymore.” Hari Prasad Sacré The Non-Resident Nepali (NRN) card is a lifeline for Nepali diaspora members, granting them residency and property rights in Nepal. Yet, adoptees are notably excluded from this framework. While the law stipulates eligibility for individuals whose parents or grandparents were Nepali citizens, it makes no provision for adoptees whose legal ties to their Nepali parents were severed by adoption. When Hari Prasad Sacré, a Nepali adoptee, sought to obtain an NRN card at the Nepal Embassy in Belgium, he encountered officials unfamiliar with processing an NRN request from an adoptee. His case was the first of its kind, setting a precedent but also highlighting the systemic barriers adoptees face. "You are not eligible; your surname is Sacré, it is not a Nepali name," an embassy staff said.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250103120140_9bdc24b7e34930059f895048ab7dc0ad3ca23b16907c572f01a8d5404a5feac5" data-rendition-name="original" width="446" height="512" loading="lazy" alt="Searching for a homeland away from home NT"> <figcaption>Hari Prasad Sacré receives tika from his father Khul Prasad Adhikari during Dasain, a few weeks after receiving his NRN card. Photo: HARI PRASAD SACRÉ</figcaption> </figure>  Sacré’s situation was legally ambiguous. Although his biological parents, including his father, Khul Prasad Adhikari, are alive and he maintains contact with them, he no longer had “legal” ties to Nepal due to the adoption process. Carrying a Belgian surname the embassy staff was initially convinced the adoptee couldn’t claim Nepali origin. Nepali law, which does not recognise biological parents as legal guardians once a child is adopted, created complications for the NRN application. To navigate this complexity, Sacré relied on a testimony from his father. Issued by a local government body in Kaski, the testimony affirmed that Hari had been put up for adoption and was of Nepali origin. While this enabled the embassy to approve his NRN card, the process was unnecessarily protracted and emotionally charged, highlighting the inadequacy of current policies to accommodate the unique situations of adoptees. Sacré’s case represents a rare instance where biological parents were alive and willing to provide testimony, but many adoptees are not as fortunate. A large number of adoptees were declared “orphans” during the adoption process, even when their parents were alive. This severed their legal ties to Nepal, stripping them of documentation that could later prove their origin. For others, the absence of living biological relatives or access to their original adoption records creates insurmountable barriers. Without clear documentation or a family member to vouch for their Nepali heritage, adoptees are excluded from the NRN framework. This denies them the rights and privileges afforded by the card, including property rights, legal recognition, and a formal connection to their homeland. Current laws fail to account for the complexities of adoptees’ legal status, leaving them disconnected from their cultural and legal heritage. Adoption papers, as evidence of Nepali descent, should be accepted as proof, granting adoptees rightful access to the NRN card and ensuring their inclusion in Nepal’s diaspora. Such reforms are crucial to ensure that all adoptees, regardless of their circumstances, can reclaim their heritage and establish a sense of belonging in Nepali society. Without these changes, the systemic exclusion of adoptees will persist, perpetuating inequities and denying them the opportunity to step up as active members of the Nepali diaspora. Sacré’s case serves as both a precedent and a call to action. It exemplifies the challenges and triumphs of adoptees navigating complex bureaucracies and advocates for a more inclusive and equitable approach to reconnecting adoptees with their homeland. Nepal can draw inspiration from South Korea, where the government has actively supported the reintegration of adoptees into their society. The F4 visa, established through efforts by organisations like the Global Overseas Adoptees’ Link (GOA'L), grants adoptees the right to live and work in Korea, while dual citizenship acknowledges their dual identity as members of the diaspora and their country of origin. GOA’L further fosters reconnection by offering language classes and cultural exchange programs, creating opportunities for meaningful reintegration and belonging. As Nepal refines its NRN citizenship framework, explicitly including adoptees could address the severance of legal and cultural ties caused by international adoption. Such inclusion would provide adoptees a pathway to residency, citizenship, and rights, enabling them to reconnect with their heritage. Complementing this with programs for language acquisition, cultural immersion, and historical education would honour Nepal’s responsibility to the approximately 5,000 children sent abroad. Nepal could establish a dedicated organisation similar to South Korea’s GOA’L and help adoptees access pre-adoption records, navigate legal processes, and engage in cultural exchange initiatives. It would also serve as a bridge between adoptees and Nepali society, fostering mutual understanding and collaboration. This article is based on doctoral studies by <a href="http://hdl.handle.net/1854/LU-01H4Z85GPS63ZWDJ3WB2E6KS70">Hari Prasad Sacré</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10357823.2022.2142932">Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez</a>. Hari Prasad Sacré, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at Ghent University in Belgium, specialising in cultural translation, multilingualism, and identity in education. His PhD, Reading Illiteracy, explored fractured multilingualism and illiteracy in displaced identities such as adoptees, with work published in leading journals like Critical Arts and the European Journal for Cultural Studies. Chandra Kala Clemente-Martínez, PhD, is a postdoctoral researcher at the AFIN Research Group, Autonomous University of Barcelona, with a PhD in Social Anthropology. Her research focuses on family strategies, reproductive decisions, and adoption, with extensive fieldwork in Spain and Nepal examining adoptee reunions and related governance and rights.

Searching for a homeland away from home

Villages along the proposed alignment of Nepal’s ambitious <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/putting-nepal-on-the-right-track">east-west train project</a> are excited about the connectivity and development it will bring. But here in Hariban village there is only apprehension. While elsewhere, there are environmental concerns about the train track slicing through national parks and protected forests, here along the densely populated Tarai plains there is worry about losing farmlands. “This project will cost me a big chunk of my land,” says Dinesh Mahato, who farms a small plot in the Ghurkauli village near the East-West Highway. “Why should I agree to give it all away when I will only be compensated partially?” Hari Narayan Mahato echoes his brother’s anger. “The map shows that I have to give up nearly 700 sq m of land, but I know the area is going to be three times bigger once construction begins,” he says. “It’s just not worth it.” There is also opposition in the Dhanpati locality, and 10 households from these two villages have refused to accept the government’s compensation rate for land which they say is much less than market value.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050152_41071574c82ba8f9698b8b7fdecb3ebf280dd314b1175262d961f76dc6d6ad5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250105050152_41071574c82ba8f9698b8b7fdecb3ebf280dd314b1175262d961f76dc6d6ad5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1292" height="821" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  The East-West Electric Railway project will ultimately be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-journey-to-electric-public-transport">Nepal’s transportation </a>artery stretching from the eastern border with India in Jhapa to Kanchanpur, connecting 24 districts. It will intersect with the proposed Birganj-Kathmandu railway at a junction in Sarlahi district. When completed, Nepal’s 950km long ‘gateway to prosperity’ as it has been dubbed, will have 123 stations, 10 tunnels, 334 bridges, a dam, and a 132kV transmission line to supply electricity to the locomotives. The project will require the acquisition of about 4,520 hectares of land, including 518 plots belonging to 4,000 households. Some of this will be along corridors through Chitwan, Bardia, Banke and Sukla Phanta <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/does-nepal-need-the-army-to-guard-parks">National Parks</a> and other nature reserves. Controversy about land acquisition and compensation as well as environmental impact have stalled the project since 2010. “The biggest issue has been compensation for land,” admits Kamal Kumar Shah of the Department of Railways. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/india-china-rail-race">India-China rail race</a>, Shristi Karki This means less than half of the work along the 70km Bardibas-Nijgad segment has been completed and 16 bridges built, and this is the first section of the railway where construction started 15 years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_9e1de8c104dcbd239a70d4a3abda71579f86502c8b9f4cdd7e184aeef90eb638.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250105050148_9e1de8c104dcbd239a70d4a3abda71579f86502c8b9f4cdd7e184aeef90eb638" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Says Senior Division Engineer Kiran Karki: “It is difficult to work here, people have built houses in public land, knowing that the railway is coming. How do we ask them to leave?” Part of the delay is also due to lack of budget, and this has increased the initial estimate of the total cost because of the increase in land value. The government has nationalised over 190 hectares for the Kakadbhitta-Inaruwa section of the railway in the eastern Tarai for which it will have to distribute Rs24.41 billion in compensation. But the budget allocated for that is only Rs1.5 billion. This means farmers have lost their land, but have not yet been compensated. The East-West Railway line was initially estimated to cost around Rs1 billion per km, but this has increased to Rs1.5 billion per km. Just the first Bardibas-Nijgad section will need an additional Rs50 billion to complete. The estimate for the entire project was estimated at Rs955 billion, but a revised budget has already surpassed Rs1.5 trillion. A major bridge across the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/kosi-now-kathmandu-next">Kosi</a> north of the barrage on the Indian border is expected to cost more than Rs410 billion. The &nbsp;Detailed Project Report (DPR) has been revised to build an elevated line over towns in the Butwal section, for example, to avoid paying exorbitant compensation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-railways-janakpur-test-drive">Nepal Railways Janakpur test drive</a> “This project works on multi-year contracts, which have been difficult to award due to a lack of budget,” says Shah. “So the date of completion of the project depends on money being forthcoming.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_addd8a08b727efb1bf1f71752dce1a28d6ea2e9d5f76dafe5dbc9a53a223c5e0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250105050148_addd8a08b727efb1bf1f71752dce1a28d6ea2e9d5f76dafe5dbc9a53a223c5e0" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Meanwhile, activists have raised concern over the project’s environmental cost. The Railway Department has prepared DPRs for four sections of the railway, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/from-nowhere-to-nowhere">Environmental Impact Assessments (EIA)</a> have not been carried out. In Chitwan, the proposed route was realigned to avoid Chitwan National Park following a Supreme Court stay order. However, Chitwan residents have now formed a Railway Victims’ Struggle Committee, saying that the new route would cut through their densely populated communities. “We only found that our land would be part of the railway line when the people from the Railway Department came here last year,” says Hari Thapaliya of Bharatpur Municipality. “The decision to reroute the track was made overnight without any consultation with us.” Angered locals had set fire to a Railway Department vehicle when a survey team reached Krishnapur in July. Bharatpur Deputy Mayor Chitrasen Adhikari says the Railway Department did not even coordinate with the municipality about the new route. “We have proposed an alternate route to the Department,” she adds. “This project affects the livelihoods of people across <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/fogbound-tarai">the Tarai</a>, their concerns must be heard, and they must be included in the decision-making process,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_682ed3ef3e398592f098d1ac638faa4d3b7517515e0f1b2014cb9c4383e6d9c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250105050148_682ed3ef3e398592f098d1ac638faa4d3b7517515e0f1b2014cb9c4383e6d9c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  The problem is that 53% of Nepal’s total population now lives along the narrow strip of plains along the Indian border through which the railway line will pass. The Railway Department is squeezed between the need to balance environmental concerns with high compensation demands of locals. Conservationists have maintained that the railway alignment will go through ecologically sensitive areas, disturbing and fragmenting the habitat of endangered species, blocking their migration routes and disrupting water and food sources. All of this could in turn increase <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">human-wildlife conflict</a>. Experts have suggested measures to invest in ‘ecological offsetting’ programs that help in the creation of new protected areas, restoration projects, and wildlife underpass and overpass corridors. There is also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-pre-monsoon-forest-fires-in-nepal">concern about the forests </a>that have to be sacrificed. Already, 13,500 trees have been cut down in the Bardibas-Nijgad section alone. The Sagarnath Forest, which stretches from Sarlahi to Mahottari, and areas under the Rautahat Division Forest also lie along the proposed alignment. Surya Raj Acharya blames inadequate monitoring and evaluation during the preparation of the DPR because government agencies lack sufficient technical capacity and experience in the railway sector.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_7823653d3f037122441c11f6485c5407acc716811bedf464255aefe3a76d97f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250105050148_7823653d3f037122441c11f6485c5407acc716811bedf464255aefe3a76d97f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  He adds, “Transparent financial planning and management are necessary to ensure the project’s sustainability and economic viability. But the contracts have been hurriedly awarded without proper land acquisition. An urgent review is necessary.” All this needs stronger political will and coordination between various agencies which is sorely lacking not just in the east-west railway project, but in other infrastructure schemes as well. When built, the nearly 1,000 km long railway will streamline cargo and passenger traffic, making it cheaper and more convenient for ordinary people. Railway junctions can also facilitate the north-south transshipment of goods and passenger traffic when coordinated with public transport. Transport costs for exports and imports from India will also be slashed. “A high-speed train running at 200 to 250km per hour will mean that trains will get from Kathmandu to Dhangadi faster than planes, and at much cheaper fares,” notes Acharya. Trains will also reduce carbon emissions by up to 30% compared to trucks and buses. Train lines will be the backbone of Nepal’s transportation system, boosting tourism in the Kathmandu, Chitwan and Lumbini triangle.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250105050148_ee137f417c5712be9d2d16f295ba7e30fc207e878214103e387346dfed3a9815.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250105050148_ee137f417c5712be9d2d16f295ba7e30fc207e878214103e387346dfed3a9815" data-rendition-name="original" width="577" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal train project struggles to stay on track NT"> </figure>  Ultimately, the Kerung-Kathmandu trans-Himalayan railway will connect with the Birganj-Kathmandu line and in future be a future non-maritime corridor for India-China trade. Nepal has been trying to get the East-West railway project funded through foreign investment, but so far there has not been much interest. There also needs to be a better viability study for future railway links, otherwise Nepal may be straddled with loans it cannot repay. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-and-china-to-study-trans-himalayan-railway">Nepal and China to study trans-Himalayan railway</a>, Ramesh Bhushal “The border region along the Tarai remains behind in terms of education, health, and the economy,” says economist Bishwo Poudel. “A railway line alone will not do much to improve their quality of life, there have to be other interventions.” Poudel adds that a north-south railway through Kathmandu to connect India and China through Nepal makes much more economic sense. China has been studying the Kerung-Kathmandu track with tunnels under <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cleaning-up-high-places">Langtang National Park</a>, which would have technological and financial challenges. India is also working on a railway alignment to connect Kathmandu to its border town of Raxaul. At present the only operational passenger railway in Nepal is the 35km cross-border Jaynagar–Janakpur–Bardibas line. The former Department of Railways Director General Rohit Kumar Bisural is a road engineer, and says: “Very few people in Nepal have experience in railways.”

Nepal train project struggles to stay on track

A young non-resident Newa person in Dallas emails a New York Times article to his grandfather in Nepal who cannot read English.
Grandad copies the English text, pastes it into Google Translate to read it in Newari.
This translation feature, available to the world’s major languages, can now also be used by the indigenous people of Kathmandu Valley to translate their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/decoding-diversity?fbclid=IwAR3P0GygTCQ7HE-LaaVOhmKSyUDLlIrR2l9VzXKwCFJ8Em7YFHSAOiiXqQE">mother tongue</a> into English and vice versa.
This involved three-and-a-half years of effort and will impact everyday life in the study and preservation of Newa culture. It also shows a path forward to Nepal’s 123 other languages and dialects.
The World Newah Organisation (WNO) in 2011 invited Newa people from around the world to a convention in London. Software engineer and historian Sanyukta Shrestha was involved, and now leads WNO.
The top priority for discussion was how to conserve the language which was classified as ‘definitely endangered’ by UNESCO, with only 850,000 speakers left.
“The Newa people are diverse: there are different sects, religions. The language and the calendar are what is common,” explains Shrestha. “The strategy was to unite the community behind an existing technology.”
Ujjwal Rajbhandari, an engineer at Google who does not even speak the language, got involved. “I thought why not take advantage of a great tool that already exists,” Rajbhandari, who is co-founder at Qubrid AI in Austin, Texas, told us on the phone.
Work started December 2020, but the prognosis was bleak. Engineers said that the project may take up to 10 years. Translate runs on a ‘transformer’, a machine learning neural network designed to take sequences as input, uses math to understand the context, and outputs a probable output. It uses an ‘attention’ mechanism, which looks at the input text and tries to work out the relationships of each word to each other word.
The more data you feed this statistical monster, the better it gets. But that was the first problem. There was a dire lack of digital material, either in Newari, bilingual Newari-Nepali or Newari-English dictionaries.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/languages-are-both-software-and-hardware">Languages are both software and hardware</a>
“Tens of thousands of digital pages of content were needed, so in 2021 we met with the editors of Newa magazines and asked to scan and digitise their material,” Shrestha recalls. “We hunted down writers, publishers, songwriters, invitation cards - anything that was written in Nepalbhasa.” &nbsp;
Google gave WNO a sheet of 1,200 sentences from random contexts, to be translated. WNO formed a committee to complete this task, and by April 2021, Translate could at least identify the language.
Nepalbhasa can be written in 13 different scripts, the two most popular are the Ranjana and Devanagari. The team chose the latter because there is a lot more material in Nepalbhasa in Devanagari, and many more people who can type in it. “Devanagari is what has allowed any of this work at all,” points out Shrestha. “Translation was the much harder problem to solve, converting output to another face is much easier.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation">Lost in translation</a>, Alisha Sijapati
Now the model needed a large volume of input from the community. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">Every AI model</a> is dependent on the volume of data, even that which is introduced later. User corrections are fed back, which makes the model more robust,” says Rajbhandari.
This happened to be at peak pandemic-time. People knew how to video-chat and had time on their hands. WNO members met for one or two hours in the evening, on a Zoom call that they also broadcast on Facebook. People worked together translating. Which was very effective, because they could get instant input or feedback from others on the call. “It was cool to see was how this brought together elders who knew the language deeply, and the youngsters who have the tech skills,” says Rajbhandari.
By February 2024 there were 500,000 contributions, and Google deemed that this volume of data was sufficient for the model to ‘level up’. Translate added Nepalbhasa to its list of supported languages in June last year. The language had now been intergrated into a tool that can be used for free from anywhere with an internet connection. Accuracy was unusally high, over 90%.
It opens up a whole different world on the internet, for those who only know Nepalbhasa, since any website integrated with Google can be used automatically and instantly converted to that language.
The translations are already being used in East Europe to translate legal documents, Newa songwriters, like Ujan Shakya, use it to convert English lyrics. And when Rajbhandari speaks to WNO over video, his English is instantly translated into Newari subtitles.
“Older people are happy that language will now not die. Younger ones can use it to self-learn the language, now they can’t blame elders for not teaching them,” says Shrestha.
Yet another use is the integration with large language models, like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/chatgpt-news-about-nepal">ChatGPT</a>. LLMs encounter Nepalbhasa in their training data, so they can already generate rudimentary responses.
Says Shrestha, “You can ask questions about a Newa book in English, and the LLM &nbsp;gives you a coherent answer and even cite the page number.” This makes the use of Newa books for research possible and a lot faster.
Leading this mammoth task led Shrestha to a better appreciation for his mother tongue. “I saw the richness of Newari. There are onomatopoeia and proverbs that only elders use, and it is these and the dialects that need to be saved,” he says.
The next step is a text-to-speech, speech-to-text interface, which would open up its use by those who speak and understand Nepalbhasa but may not read, write or type it. Tourists to Nepal would also benefit.
Rajbhandari wants to work on similar projects for other endangered languages of Nepal, and the team has shown that it does not need government to do such work.
Says Rajbhandari: “We have learned many things that would make integration of future languages more efficient so we can solve problems in other projects.”

Nepal Bhasa on Google Translate

When a dozen tiger range countries met in St. Petersburg for a summit in 2010, they committed to doubling the population of their big cats in 12 years. Nepal became the first country to not just achieve the target but nearly triple the figure, from 121 in 2010, to 355 in 2022. But some people in Nepal, including Prime Minister KP Oli, now think Nepal has been too successful and the number of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-counting-its-tigers">wild tigers</a> should be reduced. This was the same prime minister who last year had urged people to help in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-tigers-now-number-235-1iulcaq1">conservation of tigers</a>, calling it “the pride of Nepal”. But last month, in his own pithy language, Oli said <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-tiger-conservation-too-successful">tigers had become as numerous</a> as dogs, and they could not be allowed to breed at the cost of human lives. “The tiger population should be proportionate to our forest area, why not gift the extra tigers to other countries as economic diplomacy?” Oli added at a debriefing on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/bad-cop">COP29</a> last month. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-animal-interface-in-nepal-wildlife-corridor">Human-wildlife conflict</a> has indeed claimed lives, since tigers are venturing outside crowded parks to find prey. So, the prime minister’s proposal to promote wildlife diplomacy may not be such a bad idea since it would raise Nepal’s international profile and highlight <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/is-wildlife-conservation-a-victim-of-its-own-success-in-nepal">the country’s conservation success story</a>. “Tigers can be sent to other countries through diplomacy, but the receiving countries must have the right capacity and environment,” says Ghana Gurung of World Wildlife Fund (WWF Nepal), adding that tigers to be sent must also be chosen carefully. “The Prime Minister gave an emotionally charged statement, which probably came after he spoke to affected groups,” Gurung added. “We tripled the tiger population, but if proper steps for management and cooperation are not taken, we can lose them all as easily.” However, member countries of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) would have to follow strict protocols and paperwork to transport the tigers. Previously, Nepal has sent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-many-rhinos-is-enough-rhinos">rhinos</a> to China in two batches through the completion of complicated procedures. Naturalist Sushila Mahatara at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bardia-s-birds">Bardia National Park</a> does not agree that Nepal has too many tigers. She tells us: “Tiger numbers are not excessive according to the areas allocated for them. If there are too many tigers, they fight and kill each other to keep their numbers in control.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025011008010_8cf30b15459a919f1d72d06ca02b3515255460c025a62222a219218787c08bc6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025011008010_8cf30b15459a919f1d72d06ca02b3515255460c025a62222a219218787c08bc6" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="481" loading="lazy" alt="No. of tigers"> <figcaption>Photo: WWF</figcaption> </figure>  Bardia National Park has 125 adult tigers, and Chitwan National Park has 128. There were about 12 fatalities from tiger attacks in the past year, and some of the maneaters are darted and caged. However, many of them soon die in the confined space. Dhan Bahadur Tamang, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/unsung-heroes-of-nepal-s-tiger-recovery">tiger conservationist </a>with over 50 years of experience explains exactly why tigers venture out when they do: “Those that enter human settlements are usually young tigers which have been separated from their mothers. Some are injured tigers who cannot attack traditional prey.” The other reasons include encroachment as a result of human settlement and infrastructure projects in close proximity or within the protected areas with no wildlife-friendly components such as overpasses. The water shortage made worse by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-who-stay">the climate crisis</a> has added to the challenge. Although an average of 3,000 people in Nepal are killed every year by venomous snakes, tiger kills get far more media attention. This has led to tigers being seen as a threat rather than an important apex species in an ecosystem. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/the-snake-bite-emergency">The snake bite emergency</a>, Chandra Kishore The other threat to tigers is from commercialisation. Last year, then Minister for Forests and Environment Birendra Mahato of Janata Samajwadi Party (JSP) &nbsp;proposed auctioning tigers to trophy hunters because Nepal had “too many tigers”. He calculated that the country could earn $25 million through tiger hunting licenses which would underwrite the cost of maintaining national parks. His statement created widespread outrage as well as mockery from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/conservation-vs-conservatives">conservationists</a> and environmentalists, just as Prime Minister Oli’s statement last month did. Tigers are also a major source of revenue for national parks, and a highlight for tourists. “The tigers being in the jungle means that there is the presence of a balanced environment,” says Mahatara at Bardia. “Any <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">loss of biodiversity</a> in the parks could lead to a decline in the influx of tourists.” Eco-tourism and tiger safaris are a big source of income also for homestays and the local communities in Chitwan and Bardia. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/saving-tigers-to-save-the-economy">Saving tigers to save the economy</a> Says <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/conversation-with-mr-conservation">Ghana Gurung</a> at WWF: “Tourists visit national parks in anticipation of viewing tigers. At present the number is 355 and if tourists don’t spot a single tiger during their safari, then how will they see one if the numbers are reduced?” Better management of wildlife is the key, and involves a mix of approaches including the idea of tiger diplomacy. But because many human-wildlife conflict cases take place when locals go to the forest to collect firewood or fodder, they should be aware of safety precautions. “We have worked continuously through skill development and behaviour change campaigns to help the locals live and maintain a livelihood in the buffer zone and protected areas,” adds Gurung. “This has been one of our major goals, to uplift the living standards of the locals so that they can coexist with wildlife in the area.”&nbsp;

urbanisation