The 208th group of 21 American Peace Corps volunteers arrived in Nepal last month, the first since the Covid evacuation. Nearly 4,000 young Americans have served in Nepal since 1962. But the new volunteers will find a very different country from what their predecessors experienced nearly 60 years ago. Excerpts of diary entries of Daniel W Edwards after he flew into Kathmandu in October 1966 and walked to Dhading district where he taught at a village school for one and a half years.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210716_aed0dfa93dce52e1e570c5767b470d084dcfafb3ba501002deb4e62899c250e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230707210716_aed0dfa93dce52e1e570c5767b470d084dcfafb3ba501002deb4e62899c250e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="995" height="1523" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>Long before Instagram were Rs1 Aerogrammes which took 2 weeks to reach America from Dhading.</figcaption></figure>  17 October The day of departure from Kathmandu to Dhading was inauspicious. I awoke at 3AM with “intestinal disturbances”, managed breakfast, and by the time Peace Corps regional director Al Dieffenbach appeared at 9:00, I decided to consult the doctor before leaving. We had loaded my gear into the jeep station wagon and had driven into the Snow View Hotel in Lazimpat when the clutch gave out. I grabbed my medical kit and hurried back to bed. Then came the chills and fever. I felt quite sick and had a colleague summon the doctor. He was a long time in coming, but in the meantime I was bothered by a solicitous but an overbearing Anglo-Indian woman who ran the hotel. Al returned and said the trip was scrubbed for the day. The doc believed I had a virus, not dysentery. I was moved upstairs to a “sick ward”, and the fever was 102.6. Finally managed some sleep about 4:30PM. A well-dressed gent stopped by to check on me at 8:30. I returned to bed with more drugs and wondered what tomorrow would bring. 18 October I woke up at 6:15, felt much better, and heard a truck outside trying unsuccessfully to start. A delegation of volunteers was leaving by plane that morning. The struggles of the truck seemed amusing, until it dawned on me that the same truck was likely the one I and Butch Amundson would need. That was the case. At 8:30 Al showed up … still the truck would not start. So finally a USAID jeep pickup came out, we drove to the PC office to load up and set out about 11:00. Alas, just as we were leaving town at 25mph, a great shimmy commenced toward the front of the vehicle, as if the wheels were about to come off. Back to the PC office, then to AID headquarters at Rabi Bhawan to exchange vehicles. Another jeep wagoneer, we drove to the Embassy to fill the tank. There I noticed the right front tire had a nice hole in the tread. After lunch at Mr Wong’s Peace Restaurant in Lazimpat, we again set sail, piled high with baggage. We passed Balaju and headed up a winding dirt road through a beautifully green landscape. About 15 miles out, at Ranipauwa located at 6,000 feet at the top of the pass, while pulling over to let a truck pass, there was a loud bang: our left rear tire had exploded. Butch went back to Kathmandu in an old 1940 passenger touring car when we discovered our spare tire likewise had a large hole in the tread, the jeep also had no jack.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210720_3651f682e22d3ab64a4c0a7143152dd921eae82589b6061ca5d39772cac255e1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230707210720_3651f682e22d3ab64a4c0a7143152dd921eae82589b6061ca5d39772cac255e1" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="296" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>View of Tinkune and Kathmadu from a plane about to land in 1972 (left) and at present (right).</figcaption></figure>  Butch subsequently told us that a woman in the car (which was carrying 9 or 10 people) became ill and vomited in the back seat. The car ran out of gas outside Kathmandu, so Butch walked the rest of the way into the city. We had a nice dal bhat dinner at Ranipauwa and bedded down inside a shop that turned out to be an all-night cigarette-concession stand. When there was no knocking from without, the old lady was singing from within to a small child. Promptly at 4AM an inconsiderate rooster started crowing, a goat started bleating, and the woman and child began an unintelligible conversation. At 6:00 I got up to see the mountains, but it was still cloudy. Gradually the clouds broke, and the majestic Ganesh Himal loomed pinkish in the sky. Then a group of three or four summits appeared in the clear air. By 11:00 we were getting restless, when another AID jeep finally appeared. Butch had brought three tires, so two tires were changed, the old jeep reloaded, and we set off down toward Trisuli. There were sharp drops to the right and the terrain was such that the road went in and around all the hills. Trisuli was hot and we stopped at volunteer Allen Lundberg’s comfortable house by the side of the river. Saw the newly opened hospital with an x-ray machine just installed. Plus the hydroelectric plant and a row of bright lights around the generators in the middle of rural Nepal. 20 October Al left early returning to Kathmandu. We searched for porters, but as Dasain had just started, not even one was available. We looked at the school, the bazar and decided to set out on the morrow for Dhading, for it seemed very indefinite (“bholi parsi”) when we could get porters. Another volunteer teacher in Trisuli, “Mr. Bob” had taught all his students to say “Howdy” so as I walked through the bazar, kids kept calling out “Howdy” to me.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210724_83b6a39c3c22edb8758e8b3d336542af3d1fd729fb4eb044d9ae273d3f6903f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230707210724_83b6a39c3c22edb8758e8b3d336542af3d1fd729fb4eb044d9ae273d3f6903f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="612" height="410" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>The Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) office in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>  21 October Four of us, two Trisuli volunteers, Butch and I set out. About four miles out of town we crossed the Trisuli River via cable and bucket (tuin), my Kelty backpack and I lurching out across the river and being transported to the opposite shore by a man pulling a rope. The Trishuli volunteers turned back and shortly thereafter, we came to a good-sized stream with no apparent bridge to cross. In retrospect we already had lost the right trail. As it was, every ten minutes or so there were forks in the path going in two or three directions. We guessed the route which led along the river. Asking directions was of little help, because we always got in reply a stream of (to us) unintelligible Nepali accompanied by vague gestures. Someone would say Dhading was four kos distant (eight miles), while hours later someone else would say six kos (12 miles) remained. So we just kept walking. We definitely were going the round-about way: we waded across streams, tramped through front yards of houses, and walked between rice paddies, balancing on narrow strips of earth which separated the levels of the fields. We meandered along a footpath that was at the top of a steep river bank, which was fast eroding away. We followed the river a long time, steadily losing elevation before turning up into the hills. We reached the top of the closest ridge, but Butch’s knee was giving him trouble, and as it was nearly 3:00, we dropped down to a stream and rested. There we met a fellow who told us we could not reach Dhading until the next morning, but he (kind soul!) would take us to the village we had seen from the first ridge.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210732_69b1bf6a68ef97029be44b2192d987e455c974a20546d54d3ec429a347da7136.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230707210732_69b1bf6a68ef97029be44b2192d987e455c974a20546d54d3ec429a347da7136" data-rendition-name="original" width="1066" height="798" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>Sunaula Bazar, the headquarters of Dhading District in 1966.</figcaption></figure>  Dada-Gaun (village on the hill) was its name, and we were led into a yard. On the front porch sat a grizzled-looking man who puffed on his hookah and listened stoically while our guide explained our predicament. Soon was brought out what I think was dahi (curd), but the PC doc had hammered into our heads the rules not to eat anything raw that hadn’t been peeled or to drink liquids that hadn’t been boiled or water that at least was treated with tincture of iodine. While I was trying to explain why we couldn’t accept the dahi although we greatly appreciated the gesture, I remembered my package of biscuits and promptly passed them around. Butch brought out cigarettes, and then it turned out that bhat was available. But what a sight it was: a dirty white most unappetising-looking mass and served with it, goat’s meat in bony chunks with hair liberally floating around in a brass bowl. But we were hungry and ate most of it with our fingers. By this time quite a crowd had gathered, and all were frankly curious and speculating who we were and why we were there. I doubted the women and young girls had ever seen two tall white guys, certainly never in their small village. Taking out my razor and small mirror, I decided to shave, and that created quite a spectacle. I saw a very elaborate Dasain swing (ping) under construction, which had been nicely designed. About 8:30 I bedded down in my sleeping bag with a wad of cloths for a pillow on our host’s front porch. 22 October Managed to swallow a little more of that cold, unsightly food and departed at 8:00. Our impression that we could reach Dhading in two hours turned out to be sadly mistaken. Noticed some huge spiders in webs along the trail. Then we began to climb. After ascending that ridge, we followed the contours of the hills, going round and round and sometimes up, sometimes down. It was a beautiful valley, but fatigue and weakness were having their effects. By noon we had waded across a spectacular cascading stream, gone into a village only to backtrack and head up yet another hill. We really felt done in by now, and rest stops were becoming longer and more frequent. About 1:30 we were about to fade out when, at an iodine-flavored water stop, another Nepali, taking pity on us, gave us some oranges and boiled milk, a great lift to morale and typical of the generosity Nepalis show to foreigners about whom they know nothing. Up the last ridge we struggled, then to see down below our destination at last: Dhading Bazar. There, a contingent of the curious stared at us as we reached the one and only unpaved street, and we were taken to the headmaster’s place. Soon Mr Badri appeared, a youthful and good-looking fellow, 22 years old, still intending to finish his BA. He had almost given up hope, as I was three days late, yet expecting my arrival, he had not gone to his home in Baglung for Dasain.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210724_5a9a0b8c5877736648bd0c673d4ee0379b3fb7af02bec0befcf271e81879ad2f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230707210724_5a9a0b8c5877736648bd0c673d4ee0379b3fb7af02bec0befcf271e81879ad2f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1063" height="792" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>The author Daniel W Edwards in front of the school building in Dhading in 1966.</figcaption></figure>  [Update: Two months later, Mr Badri left the village in the dead of night (“Bhagyo” I was told) with a Grade 7 girl. I never saw him again. Nepal had lots of surprises in store for us!] My energy restored by a fairly good meal, I set off for the temple [Bhairavsthan] on top of the hill. A good steep climb, and what a sight upon arriving. A couple of hundred people (including many Magar dressed in their festive best) were crowded on that knoll anticipating the animal sacrifices. In short order a goat, water buffalo, and several small pigs were beheaded as offerings to Durga. So this is “culture shock” I thought, while watching this amazing ritual. Not five months before, I was living on a beautiful university campus in northern California, with no knowledge of such happenings on the other side of the world. Mr. Badri gave us a full account in English of the history of the temple and its gods, and he wanted to make sure we had a good view of all the blood-letting. On the way back to the bazar, I was introduced to a few local dignitaries, who greeted the new foreign teacher respectfully. Then to bed in an attic across from the shop where Mr. Badri stayed.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210728_4e50bd8b1895dba1145ace6620b60db6cf86fc485eb88a10e9e187aff9e389f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230707210728_4e50bd8b1895dba1145ace6620b60db6cf86fc485eb88a10e9e187aff9e389f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1067" height="795" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>The temple where animal sacrifices were made, with Ganesh Himal in the distance. It came down in the 2015 earthquake.</figcaption></figure>  23 October Went over the hill for morning tea with Mr Sharma, the Sanskrit and Nepali teacher and former headmaster. Watched the men play cards, the family puja ceremony at which tika were put on their foreheads, and then sat down in the middle of the courtyard amidst hundreds of flies to lunch. The food wasn’t bad, though a lot of uncooked stuff gave me pause, but nothing I was served was wasted, as a goat finished off whatever was left on my plate. In the afternoon I began reading English Philosophy Since 1900 which had no relevance to my current situation in Nepal, but in my pack I had brought only that one book, no language material and one change of clothes. It was dark by shortly after 6:00, strange to see no lights. I am writing this account by kerosene light. A young boy, Shiba, began cooking for us. Got him to wash his hands, but of course we can’t clean or prepare food the way we’d like to. The only thing we can do is to put iodine drops into our water bottles and wait 30 minutes before drinking. It’s a wonder we don’t get sick, though this morning my stomach is a bit uneasy. Back of our place is a stream and a hill, which is the communal latrine for men. Roving domestic animals nearby add their contributions as well. 24 October Woke up very sore. The wooden bench I slept on was flat and hard. Only a thin straw mat for a mattress. I have no international 1-rupee aerograms with me, so can’t catch up on my US correspondence. Mr. Badri expects living quarters will be found in a few days (“bholi parsi”), but local porters to go to Trisuli and bring my luggage will not be available for a couple of days.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210740_2517c3f7b04eae67526268652d02017156878917c44c3bf0ddb92af0efa6e854.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230707210740_2517c3f7b04eae67526268652d02017156878917c44c3bf0ddb92af0efa6e854" data-rendition-name="original" width="1065" height="822" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>Grade 4 students in English language class. It was warmer and quieter in the open.</figcaption></figure>  In the afternoon I went to see the school. Well, what can you say! From the outside it has a nice appearance—newly constructed walls of stone and mud and a slate roof. But inside there is virtually nothing. One section has three classrooms and an office. There is a walled partition in between, about seven feet high, not extending to the ceiling. On the dirt floor rest a few worn benches. I ended up teaching outside on a level plot of ground away from the school, since it was impossible to teach over the din of chanting students in the school building. The school office contains a few old maps, charts, three small portable blackboards, a table, a few chairs, and a carrom board which provides teachers entertainment. I was sitting there trying to digest the situation before me, as the breezes blew through the glass-less windows (no doors either). The other section of the building has no partitions—it’s like a big shed, with 70 first and second class students at one end, the third-through-fifth students at the other. The attendance figures I was first given turned out to be grossly exaggerated. Apparently many students registered but few attended regularly. Perhaps 20 first and second graders were present on any given day. My Grade 8 class had only seven or eight regular attendees. There were very few girl students.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210736_06a2db0d7d865c23d2498616b5a65843380bddcbb974ab77db2eb4b41de4ae64.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230707210736_06a2db0d7d865c23d2498616b5a65843380bddcbb974ab77db2eb4b41de4ae64" data-rendition-name="original" width="677" height="399" loading="lazy" alt="Dhading 1966 NT"><figcaption>The author in 1966 at the Bhairavi School in Dhading built with volunteer labour.  </figcaption></figure>  Mr Badri also mentioned a local faction that opposes the school, fearing that their own interests would somehow be threatened. As it is, Badri has received no salary for some time, and the government is supposed to provide the school only Rs2,000 rupees a year. The rest of the budget must be met by student fees and contributions. My work as an English teacher is definitely cut out for me. 28 October Four porters, carrying our suitcases, a few supplies and PC-issued goods in their doko, arrived from Trisuli. I paid them a total of 70 rupees; Butch had given 10 rupees advance in Trisuli. Each porter thus earned 20 rupees for carrying a load from noon the day before until this evening for one and a half day’s work.

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Dhading Journal 1966

<figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdc59c7e80680e0a0c02jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Suman Thapa conducting an eye examination on a patient at Chaurjhari Hospital in Rukum, where EK Ek Paila is working with the local government. Photos: EK EK PAILA</figcaption></figure>It is the aftermath of disasters that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-brings-out-the-best-in-nepalis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bring out the best among Nepalis</a>. And so it was after the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/reviewing-lessons-of-the-2015-nepal-earthquake/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">2015 earthquake</a>, volunteer groups sprang up spontaneously and organised relief through social media.Among them was a loosely structured group of like-minded Nepalis who used their medical expertise to provide emergency help to areas destroyed by the earthquakes. But while many such volunteer groups faded away, the volunteers continued to expand their work — calling themselves Ek Ek Paila (one step at a time).“After seeing the devastation in 2015, I thought it’d be best to use my expertise to provide medical help and do more rather than just provide relief,” says <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11828#.YSRhqS8w3u0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Suman Thapa</a>, an ophthalmologist who helped set up Ek Ek Paila.  Now, with the pandemic, Ek Ek Paila has been trying to bring health services to parts of Nepal which have rudimentary medical care even at the best of times. “After hearing about infected people having virtually no access to Covid-19 treatment in rural areas where we had previously held health camps, we created a Covid Health Package and took it to them,” Thapa adds.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rural-nepal-fights-back-covid-19/">Rural Nepal fights back Covid-19</a>, Masta KC <figure><img width="1000" height="745" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdc89c7e80680e0a0c03jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The package consists of medication, relevant information, and a direct hotline to volunteer doctors to answer any questions they might have about symptoms, tests and vaccines. The demand for the packages has now snowballed, with local governments in more districts approaching for help. Ek Ek Paila raised Rs7 million for the distribution of the Covid Health Packages — all from local donations. In fact, that is what makes the non-profit different from most other charities in Nepal, it relies almost completely on donations from Nepalis. “If foreigners and international organisations want to donate to Ek Ek Paila, we do not say no,” Thapa explains. “But 99% of the funding for Ek Ek Paila comes from local donors.” The fact that Thapa is also an accomplished musician, and a lead guitarist in the band ‘The Blue Fret’ helps with fund-raising concerts. “I had always wanted to be a musician, and being a doctor was actually the next best thing for me,” admits Thapa, grinning through his mask during a recent interview at Ek Ek Paila’s new Community Health Centre in Kathmandu.Ek Ek Paila had a humble start after the earthquake six years ago. Thapa contacted some friends and found fellow doctors who committed to spending one weekend a month for a year to provide medical care to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/18/survivors-help-survivors/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">survivors</a> in remote villages <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/langtang-copes-with-quake-and-covid/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">badly hit by the earthquakes</a>. In the first year alone, Ek Ek Paila organised 12 health camps in Sindhupalcok, Dolakha, and other districts. <figure><img width="1000" height="707" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdcb9c7e80680e0a0c04jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal’s mountainous terrain has posed a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/environmental-destruction-is-a-medical-emergency/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">significant challenge in health care delivery</a>, made worse by government neglect and poor governance, and exacerbated during crises like the earthquake and pandemic.   All medical professionals who volunteered at health camps paid for their own trips, equipment, and even for the medicine that they prescribed. But after the 12 health camps, the regular volunteers decided to officially register Ek Ek Paila, creating a Nepali-driven and funded organisation to expand its services. Today, volunteer doctors and medical personnel also perform surgeries, including <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-far-sighted-eye-care/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">complex eye operations</a>, in rural health camps and carry more equipment with them, increasing diagnostic accuracy. Ek Ek Paila’s camps have become mobile primary health care centres.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health/">This is how to upgrade Nepal’s rural health</a>, Sewa Bhattarai “What has made our work easier despite the political paralysis in Kathmandu is that with federalism, local governments are empowered and collaborate in holding health camps,” says Thapa, who has experience with rural health camps organised by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times%20Buzz/sanduk%C2%ADruit%C2%ADtilganga,2574" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sanduk Ruit</a> of the Tilganga Institute of Ophthalmology.  Local governments top up the donations from the Ek Ek Paila members themselves and other local funding to run the camps. They provide Ek Ek Paila teams of 30 or so people with accommodation and two meals a day. They also help organise the space in which the health program is conducted and help disseminate information.  <figure><img width="1000" height="705" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdcf9c7e80680e0a0c05jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ek Ek Paila also collaborates with other non-profits like Sparsha Nepal and the ear-nose-throat surgery specialists, Impact Nepal. Ek Ek Paila’s new non-profit Community Health Centre in Thapathali provides affordable health care to those who cannot afford hospital fees. With the flow of patients increasing, and the challenge of making the centre sustainable a tier system for small consultation fees subsidises free treatment for those who cannot afford it.The Community Health Centre was funded through private donations, including the building itself which belongs to one of the founding members. Overhead costs are low because medical personnel all volunteer their services. Besides the vital service it provides, Ek Ek Paila has also led by example to foster <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/youth-led-feeding-campaign-spreads-across-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">volunteerism and philanthropy among Nepali </a>individuals and companies. Foreseeing the<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/vaccines-variants-and-a-third-wave/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> third wave</a>, Ek Ek Paila is expanding its Covid Health Packages to reach more people in hard-to-reach places. The non-profit also is in talks to manage primary health centres in Jajarkot and Sindhupalchok districts. Says Thapa: “Ek Ek Paila has brought Nepalis together from all walks of life, it has helped people in need of affordable health care and given donors and volunteers a sense of satisfaction for having contributed. As for me, this is the most fulfilling thing I have done in my life.”To donate to <a href="https://www.ekekpaila.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ek Ek Paila</a>: <a href="https://www.ekekpaila.org/page/5/donate" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">https://www.ekekpaila.org/page/5/donate</a>

Step by step for rural health care in Nepal

<img width="926" height="542" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05e09c7e80680e0a5f31jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>The viral <a href="https://twitter.com/srp_dr31/status/1405138726280257541" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://twitter.com/srp_dr31/status/1405138726280257541&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625456264343000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHRREcHPOFf9HgKJ22JoX0eehSeNw">video of health workers in Mustang</a> passing a box of vaccines across a rain-swollen river was a rare instance in the media of Nepalis helping Nepalis during the pandemic. Usually, on Twitter and other social media platforms, what we see are posts from Kathmandu airport of yet another consignment of medical material donated by country X or by a global organisation Y with the health minister of the day posing with diplomats.In that video from Mustang, a <a href="https://english.onlinekhabar.com/the-behind-the-scenes-story-of-a-video-that-earned-nepal-health-workers-global-praises.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://english.onlinekhabar.com/the-behind-the-scenes-story-of-a-video-that-earned-nepal-health-workers-global-praises.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625456264343000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFgsXHa1a2nESqpbs-gvdlOlsh1HA">health centre driver stood on one riverbank</a> fearful of crossing the raging torrent and slid a metal rod through the handle of a box of Covid-19 vaccines. Then, with the help of a passer-by, he forwarded the box to another health worker on the opposite side. The video was <a href="https://twitter.com/DrTedros/status/1405632083276570631" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://twitter.com/DrTedros/status/1405632083276570631&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625456264343000&amp;usg=AFQjCNF3oRSHM8MG0hB59G_jsAvR-aiuvA">retweeted by WHO Chief Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus</a>, who praised the workers. <blockquote>This is how far <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/healthworkers?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#healthworkers</a> go to save lives. Is it fair that in many places these heroes have still not been vaccinated? It is in our power and our duty to do everything we can to deliver <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/VaccinEquity?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#VaccinEquity</a>! If not now, when?<a href="https://t.co/Dm1YVbc9uB">https://t.co/Dm1YVbc9uB</a>— Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus (@DrTedros) <a href="https://twitter.com/DrTedros/status/1405632083276570631?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">June 17, 2021</a></blockquote> Foreign assistance to help Nepal cope with the pandemic is of course positive (lack of vaccines aside) because the Nepal government has simply been unable to meet demands for oxygen, hospital beds and medical supplies. Yet, Nepalis know better than anyone that the mutual aid response we are witnessing during Covid-19 is nothing new: family, friends, neighbours, and others, spring to action annually when the monsoon unleashes landslides and floodwaters, and after other disasters like the 2015 earthquakes.Following flooding in Saptari district in 2017 ‘the response of the western international system (the UN and INGOs) played only a minor role, accounting for around a sixth of the resources that affected households said they received,’ <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/volunteers-to-the-rescue-in-nepals-flood-season/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/volunteers-to-the-rescue-in-nepals-flood-season/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625455520200000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFjC7u3KYFO4ez_4evUOXxteOJRXA">concluded a 2019 report</a>. ‘A third (of aid) came from family, neighbours and landlords, the government, the diaspora or community-based organisations, including in-kind items such as shelter, food, cooking stoves and fuels. Another quarter was from other countries, with China reported as the main source, and Nepali NGOs, particularly the Nepali Red Cross, accounted for a fifth,’ added the study. That report opened my eyes to the regular outpouring of humanitarian assistance from family, neighbours and governments at all levels, which is exemplified by civil society’s activities during Covid-19, and which happens almost immediately when disasters strike. Recently I decided to try and open the eyes of others, both inside and outside of Nepal, to this reality. With editor Srawan Shrestha we contacted groups on an unofficial list of Nepali organisations providing Covid relief and asked them to submit video clips of their work—providing hot meals and food packs to the hungry, handing out information flyers, masks and other protective equipment, building quarantine centres, etc.  <img width="844" height="542" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05e39c7e80680e0a5f32jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="940" height="538" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05e59c7e80680e0a5f33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="936" height="539" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05eb9c7e80680e0a5f34jpeg.jpg" alt="">Luckily, more than enough groups responded, and we put together this short video in English and Nepali that we hope will help to change the perception about who is helping who when it comes to humanitarian assistance in Nepal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-local-governments-lead-from-the-front/">Nepal’s local governments lead from the front</a>, Masta KC

Nepal’s homegrown Covid heroes

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

We were used to getting stuck in Kathmandu’s notorious traffic with gas fumes and horns blaring. We are still stuck in traffic, but now it is mostly the quiet hum of EVs, and street-level air is noticeably cleaner. Alongside Norway, Nepal has the highest combustion-to-EV conversion rates in the world. And we are not even a middle-income country yet. How did we get here?&nbsp; For the first time in Nepal’s history, 2025 saw an unprecedented turn of events: two back-to-back auto shows a week apart in August, independent of each other. This was timed for the warm up to the Dasain season. &nbsp;&nbsp; The first auto show 6-11 August was the <a href="https://naimanepal.org/mobility-expo" target="_blank">NAIMA Mobility Expo 2025 </a>by the newly established Nepal Automobile Importers and Manufacturers Association which saw 35 new models, many of them EVs with 50 participating brands like Toyota, BYD, Hyundai, Kia, MG, Mahindra, Omoda &amp; Jaecoo, Proton and Leapmotor.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1770" height="1097" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The exhibition had a strong focus on two-wheelers aimed at affordable and easy mobility in a town now known for long traffic jams (see report). NAIMA attracted a record 100,000 visitors in six days.&nbsp; The second one was the Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association Auto Show 2025 (<a href="https://youtu.be/emSd0mUuMjU" target="_blank">NADA</a>) to address the growing demands for cars and two-wheelers. It was a natural expression of new market forces at work, on one hand, and popular taste, on the other — one influencing the other.&nbsp; This year’s NADA Auto Show was its 17th iteration, and carried a hefty legacy: exhibiting a contemporary lineup from manufacturers such as Tata, Suzuki, Xpeng and Nammi, but also classics for vintage car lovers like the 1928 Ford Model A and a rare 1955 Austin Princess Dm4 sedan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1381" height="848" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  It also showcased the Deepal eVTOL (a 2-seater drone), and a humanoid robot with dog. Curious onlookers at Bhrikuti Mandap thronged the show with footfall crossing 170,000.&nbsp; Earlier this year, I had traveled to attend India's largest auto show, the <a href="https://youtu.be/OgIIvXx6yOM?si=zNmMgklzCJpagTye" target="_blank">Bharat Mobility Global expo</a> in January in New Delhi. It was part of a <a href="https://youtu.be/GT6LBKiJvyg?si=r7YaxahjSAnsIfBY" target="_blank">roadtrip</a> from one capital to another with BYD Nepal on a Dolphin. The journey took three days through Bhairawa and then the Lucknow-Agra Expressway, covering a distance of 1200km one way.&nbsp; The drive through the horrid Narayanghat-Butwal corridor alone was testimony that EVs are no longer fragile and could handle a beating. And while both Nepal's economy pales in comparison to India, it was evident that the private passenger segment is well on its way to electrification. More than 70% of all vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric. Sales representatives are unanimous: inquiries for EVs are at an all-time high and overshadow demand for ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles. Besides four-wheelers, a fast-growing proportion of scooters were also electric.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="863" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  I have spent the last two years <a href="https://youtu.be/256YQa37Ol8?si=Sv1wQ8EdvgMCiTM_" target="_blank">reviewing</a> many of these EVs. The days of batter-powered cars being small toy cars, with sub-par build quality and the range of golf carts have long gone.&nbsp; Fit and finishing in both Chinese and Indian EVs are comparable to established brand names even in Japanese and European markets. But most significantly for us in Nepal, battery technology and range have made inter-city travel on our highways imaginable. The media sometimes portrays Nepal as a prime testing/dumping ground for EVs due to lack of regulation and the proximity to the world’s largest EV exporter (China) and our tough geographical conditions. That is just a part of the story. What actually stands out is the incredible appetite for risk among Nepali buyers.&nbsp; Since the Covid pandemic charging infrastructure has spread across the country. My early trips between Kathmandu and Pokhara saw the possibility of topping up with just one charging gun at the <a href="https://rsr.com.np/" target="_blank">Riverside Springs Resort in Kurintar</a> – and I would have to wait in line, or the charger simply would not be working.&nbsp; These days, by the time I cross Kurintar from Koteswor in my Kona, I will have passed at least 10 charging stations with multiple guns. &nbsp; On my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">YouTube reviews</a>, people from across the globe ask about range and handling EVs on poor road conditions like ours. The occasional skeptics also leave comments like: ‘If this works in the higher altitudes and mountainous roads of Nepal, then it should be a breeze down here in the flats of Australia and/or hills around Auckland!’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1139" height="787" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  SATURATION? However, both the NAIMA and NADA auto show also confirmed that we could be hitting a peak EV. From having just one car in one budget segment, there are now multiple alternatives stretching from the entry of below Rs3 million to the premium and high-end Rs 10 million price point.&nbsp; Furthermore, the price wars on EVs that started in China a year ago have also trickled across to Nepal. Models such as the <a href="https://youtu.be/3wFN2I81Tq0?si=T6L4SAfRpoyNNvYC" target="_blank">MG S5</a>, Nammi Vigo, BYD Atto 2 (and 1) and <a href="https://youtu.be/y214kWbWTc4?si=bIevanDZEPQdkEs4" target="_blank">Deepal S05</a> saw aggressive pricing schemes and discounts that disrupted pre-existing quotas. Consumers can suddenly afford a lot more cars, and travel a lot further for a considerably smaller price tag.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1953" height="1107" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  However, booking numbers at both auto shows did not necessarily translate into actual deliveries. The fact remains that almost 80% of registered vehicles in Nepal are still two-wheelers, and GDP per capita stands at just $1500 — among the lowest in the world.&nbsp; This means that early first-adopters are first-time buyers, and the remaining customers in the market are more skeptical and less willing. But there are also those that are unlikely to consider the EV suitable to travel to off-road rural areas. For the average Nepali family, upgrading or purchasing a new car is no small decision. It happens in five years or more with resale values being a big determinant. The EV boom may be reaching saturation.&nbsp; Both NADA and NAIMA shows drove home the message that Nepal’s transport sector is on an electric fast-track, but the road ahead will be bumpy.&nbsp; Soon after the shows, the glacial debris flow on the Bhote Kosi knocked out the Rasuwa-Kerung border with China, and earlier landslides had already blocked the Koradi checkpoint. Manufacturers are now using the less convenient Korala border in Mustang. BYD, Leapmotor and Omoda &amp; Jaecoo have begun rerouting their vehicles to make up for delivery deadlines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1031" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Although the distance from the capital to the Korala border (470km) is four times longer than from Rasuwa (128km) &nbsp;and Tatopani (112km), it is still considered faster and more cost effective than shipping via India using sea routes.&nbsp; And then Nepal was engulfed in turmoil after the youth-led protests of 8-9 September and its aftermath. Many automobile showrooms around Thapathali including Tata, Hyundai and CG were vandalised and torched.&nbsp; Sushila Karki leads a caretaker government till elections are held in March, and the unsettled situation will affect the economy and investment climate as well as the automobile sector. Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Youtube</a>, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Tiktok</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/casuallyannoyeddriver/" target="_blank">IG</a>, and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

Nepali Times: You just climbed Mt Everest without oxygen and then skied down the mountain. How does one even train for something like that?&nbsp; Andrzej Bargiel: What made skiing down Everest possible was all the years of experience I’ve gained in high-altitude mountains. Spending a lot of time in the high mountains helps me read the snow, the conditions, and potential hazards. I need to ski often, especially in steep and exposed terrain, so that it becomes a place where I feel completely at home.&nbsp; I also climb regularly, I am an IFMGA mountain guide. I also run, ride a bike, and work out in the gym. Like in any endurance sport, I have to prepare my body for the demands of an expedition.&nbsp; What motivated you to do Everest? This was actually my third attempt on Everest. After many years of ski mountaineering and racing, I felt it would be great to use that experience to take on a meaningful project in the Himalaya. It’s about exploring what’s really possible, testing my limits, and seeing how far I can go. I was inspired by people like Davo Karničar, Fredrik Ericsson, and Hans Kammerlander, who showed that skiing in the high mountains can truly be done.&nbsp; What do you have to be most careful about when skiing at such high altitude? You really have to manage your energy well, because you need to be ready to spend many hours at very high altitude — even above 8,000 meters. Risk management is essential. You have to read the signals nature gives you and make the right decisions, choosing safe moments to move. The dangers are always there: avalanches, crevasses, extreme fatigue, and exposed terrain, so you have to stay fully aware and focused. Safety comes first, always. You also need to stay open to changing your plans, because in the mountains, things don’t always go the way you expect.&nbsp; Why did you choose autumn and not spring?&nbsp; Autumn is really the only season when you can think about making a full ski descent from the summit all the way to base camp. In the spring there’s much more ice left after winter, and the snow cover is broken. A full descent simply isn’t possible then, because too much rock and ice are exposed. Of course, in spring it’s easier to climb the mountain. The conditions are more stable, the snow is firmer, there’s less avalanche risk, and you don’t have to wade through deep snow. The autumn ascent is very complex and demanding, which is why so few expeditions attempt it. But in autumn, skiing becomes possible. Several meters of fresh snow fall on Everest’s slopes, covering the rocks and ice, and that transforms the mountain into something wild, beautiful, and most importantly skiable. What was your favourite part this time? The moment I remember most fondly was reaching the summit — and that first stretch just below the top, when I clicked into my skis and started moving down through surprisingly nice snow. It felt smooth and natural, a kind of free, easy glide down toward the Hillary Step. I could feel the movement, the flow, and at the same time this awareness that I was skiing from the highest point on Earth. It was just a really good feeling. The Icefall was another special moment. I felt from a skier’s point of view that it really worked. I could make my turns, and the descent itself was fun, technical, but a beautiful one too — full of variety, weaving through ice towers and seracs that looked incredible in the sunlight. It was challenging, but also just pure joy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Andrzej Bargiel NT"> </figure>  And what was most challenging? The hardest moment came on 14 September, during our first summit push attempt. We were breaking trail in deep snow and reached the South Col in the evening. I already knew we wouldn’t be going higher that night, so I decided to stay there, to use the climb to acclimatise.&nbsp; But after that attempt failed, the team completely lost faith that the project could still succeed. Almost everyone started packing up, convinced it was over, nobody thought that the snow would stabilise enough.&nbsp; I skied down from the Col early the next morning in really good conditions, while the rest of the team descended on foot. Rebuilding belief within the team that it could still be done was the toughest part, mentally. It took me several days to bring that energy and motivation back, to make everyone believe again that we could try once more. What was your support crew like?&nbsp; I want to thank the whole team — all team members from Poland, all those who contributed to the project, all the sponsors, and the Seven Summit Treks crew, especially Dawa Sherpa, who had the courage to go to the top with me.&nbsp; In the end, his courage made it possible. Doing it alone would have been almost impossible. With him there, I felt safe, and that made all the difference. What potential for skiing do you see in the Himalaya?&nbsp; Huge. There’s massive potential here both for ski touring and for a more recreational form of skiing. In the Himalaya, there are so many mountains you can ski from, and they don’t have to be eight-thousanders.&nbsp; There is an incredible amount of snow even in the lower valleys during the winter, which makes it a really interesting place for skiing. You can find great powder and enjoy long, wide runs.&nbsp; The key, I think, is to keep developing local guiding structures. There should be more certified guides in Nepal, Sherpas gaining guiding qualifications, and a proper professional rescue service. That would definitely increase the sense of safety for both skiers and tourists coming to the mountains. I’d love to come back to the Himalayas one winter just to ski in those lower parts — in deep snow, on much longer and wider skis – that would be pure pleasure. At those lower altitudes, the fun can be so much greater, with a more relaxed, freeride kind of feeling.