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

Climber, expedition leader and later a supplier of bottled oxygen to Himalayan mountaineers, Henry Barclay Todd died on 3 November 2025 in his favourite place on earth, Kathmandu.&nbsp;
Todd was larger than life, a metaphor often used, yet it could not be more fitting. Standing nearly 2m tall, and possessing an unshakeable will, he lived life on a grand scale, both in body and spirit.&nbsp;
Todd was a pillar in the Himalayan climbing community, supporting many mountaineers across Nepal and Pakistan, making it possible for them to fulfil the dream of standing on the world’s highest peaks. He believed deeply in the strength, skill, and potential of the Sherpa people, and offered them opportunities that might otherwise have remained out of reach.&nbsp;
“Thank you, Henry. Your trust changed my life. Rest in peace, my leader, my teacher, my friend,” said Dorjee Gyelzen Sherpa in his tribute.
Born in 1945 to Royal Air Force officer Henry Todd and May Todd of the Women’s Royal Air Force, Henry spent his early years in Singapore. He led a lively childhood with his two brothers, far removed from the mountains that would later define his path.&nbsp;
A gifted swimmer like his father, Henry never pursued the sport professionally. Instead, after returning to Dundee as a teenager and attending seven different schools, he set off for London, where he began working for an insurance company before finding his true calling in adventure.
Henry Todd first came to Nepal in the mid-1980s and made his first attempt on Ama Dablam in 1987, an expedition that marked the beginning of an extraordinary and colourful climbing career. <a href="https://www.himalayandatabase.com/" target="_blank">The Himalayan Database</a> lists 61 expeditions that he led in Nepal alone — there were more in the Karakoram, Argentina and the Alps.&nbsp;
But Todd would joyfully say that a few hard Scottish ascents held a more personal meaning to him than even the greatest Himalayan summits.
Over the decades, he crossed paths with many legendary climbers like Anatoli Boukreev, Jerzy Kukuczka, Doug Scott and Chris Bonington as well as celebrities including members of Pink Floyd and Nobel Prize laureates whom he befriended.&nbsp;
He had a gift to never name-drop, but would simply mention that he had had lunch with Minnie Driver (niece of his long-time friend Andra) or that he had bought his first car from Donald Sutherland. For Todd, these were not bragging rights, they were simply part of the colourful tapestry of his life.
Todd’s life was filled with extraordinary experiences from surviving plane crashes, avalanches and earthquakes to quietly solving countless problems, which was one of his favourite past-times. His hands, famously large and steady, were always ready to help whether in the chaos of the mountains or the calm of a base camp.&nbsp;
With his sharp sense of humour and the beloved exclamation “Whoopie!”,he could bring lightness even to the toughest moments. He never tired of taking on challenges or helping when someone was in need, and he enriched so many people’s lives with his endless stories.
His legacy is immense. He helped build the human backbone of Himalayan climbing, enabling generations of climbers to test themselves in the world’s highest places. With his passing, an era of bold, spirited Himalayan guiding has come to a close.
Todd survived by a loving family, many close friends and a global community of climbers and Sherpas who will never forget him and his endless tales.&nbsp;
His family said in a statement: ‘Henry’s strength, warmth and unyielding belief in others will live on far above the clouds. He was indestructible in our eyes and in our hearts, he always will be.’
There will be a memorial service at Pashupati Temple in Kathmandu on 8 November 2025 around lunchtime.

Henry Barclay Todd, 80

The autumn mountaineering season is not over yet, and already there have been 12 fatalities on Himalayan peaks in Nepal.
Of the 1,450 climbing permits issued, 436 were for Mt Ama Dablam (6,812m), 374 for Mt Manaslu (8,163m) and 186 for Himlung Himal (7,126m). There were deaths on all three mountains.
The death of two French climbers on Ama Dablam happened before unseasonal blizzards hit the mountains. But Cyclone Montha from the Bay of Bengal brought on high winds and up to 1m of snow in the peak trekking and mountaineering season.
This increased avalanche conditions, and made helicopter evacuation of stranded and injured climbers difficult. Lower down the mountains, more than 1,000 trekkers from Nepal and around the world were stuck in the Annapurnas, Manaslu circuit and the Khumbu.
However, there have also been allegations that it was not just the weather that delayed rescues. Multiple levels of bureaucracy and the need for flight permits to restricted areas like Manang and Manaslu critically delayed evacuation flights.
Italian climbers Farronato Stefano and Caputo Alessandro were found dead in their tent at Panbari Himal Camp I (6,887m) in the Manaslu area. They had been trapped by heavy snowfall since 28 October, and their bodies were found on 4 November by a team from the expedition organisers, Sherpa Alpine Trekking Service. The team was made up of high level mountain guides and expedition leader Valter Perlino.
The team had been climbing to Camp 3 but decided to descend to base camp because of thrombosis in Perlino’s left foot. The two climbers who would eventually get trapped decided to break at Camp I, a decision that would prove fatal after the projected six-day snowfall arrived two days early.
“They were sleeping in a tent and were buried under 2.5 metres of compacted snow. It happened during the night between Thursday and Friday. While they were sleeping, absurd,” said Perlino.
A deadly incident took place the morning of 3 November, when five foreigners and two Nepalis died in an avalanche on Yalung Ri at 5,630m in the Rolwaling. They were part of a larger group of 15 that were acclimatising for an attempt on the nearby Dolma Khang (6,332m).
Local authorities in Gauri Shankar Conservation Area say calls were immediately made to helicopter companies as well as various ministries in Kathmandu that have to issue permits to fly to the region bordering China.
But the permits for rescue flights to Rolwaling Valley were delayed by eight hours. Rescue flights in these areas require permission from the Ministry of Tourism, the Ministry of Defence, the Home Ministry, and the Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN).
Experts say this should be exempted in times of emergency when time is of the essence. CAAN spokesperson Pratap Babu Tiwari claimed to not know of the avalanche on Yalung Ri and deflected questions to the permission department.&nbsp;
There was a similar tragedy on Himlung Himal in Manang as well. Australian Chin-Tark Chan, 49, was climbing with 8K Expeditions and fell ill on 27 October at about 6,800m, developing snow blindness and loss of mobility. The guides immediately called the US insurance company Global Rescue for authorisation of a longline rescue.
Global Rescue refused, saying a rescue at that height would violate Nepal’s aviation rules and put the pilot at unacceptable risk. They asked the guides to transport Chan to Camp 3 at 6,400m to a permitted altitude. Seeing it was a life-or-death situation for its client, 8K called in an aerial rescue anyway, but the helicopter could not land due to bad weather. Chan died slightly below Camp 3 on 29 October.
Global Rescue said in a statement that it was ready to send in a helicopter after Chan had been transported to Camp 3, but several hours were lost for that attempt, and the weather did not get better in the next few days.
To underscore just how dangerous helicopter rescues in the Himalaya can be in bad weather, a chopper from Altitude Air skidded off the helipad at Lobuche below Mt Everest while trying to rescue trekkers in whiteout conditions.&nbsp;
CAAN announced a ban on flights during blizzards or dense fog. While rescue missions are often heroic and courageous, they should not be foolhardy if conditions are unsafe and the risk to pilots and rescuers too high. This autumn was a lesson for future expeditions and for the Nepal government.&nbsp;
The Italian duo on Panbari were caught out by snow that arrived two days ahead of schedule, but the group on Yalung Ri should have postponed their ascent after multiple warnings from the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology to avoid high altitudes.

Deadly autumn in Himalayan climbing

Traditional donors have sharply scaled back their aid commitments to developing countries over the past year. Some, like the United States, have virtually eliminated their aid programs. According to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), official development assistance (ODA) from member countries <a href="https://www.oecd.org/en/about/news/press-releases/2025/04/official-development-assistance-2024-figures.html" target="_blank">declined by 7.1%</a> in 2024, its first annual drop in six years. This trend was not limited to a few major donors. Of the 33 members of the OECD’s Development Assistance Committee (DAC), 22 slashed their aid budgets, and only four countries met the United Nations’ target of allocating 0.7% of gross national income to ODA. The outlook for the coming year offers little hope for improvement, as major DAC donors have announced additional cuts. Most notably, US President Donald Trump’s administration has suspended most foreign aid and dismantled the Agency for International Development (USAID), which dispersed most US government aid dollars. Meanwhile, the United Kingdom plans to <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/clyrkkv4gd7o" target="_blank">reduce aid spending</a> from 0.5% of GNI to 0.3% by 2027. Similar retrenchment across Europe and North America is reshaping international assistance, disrupting humanitarian and climate-related programs, and creating financing gaps in critical sectors such as health, education, and clean energy. In our 2017 book <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/going-beyond-aid/B48F59C6D8D2790D403A1A0C44B37612" target="_blank">Going Beyond Aid</a>, we urged developing-country governments to reduce their dependence on foreign aid, not only because it was becoming an unreliable source of funding, but also because other, better ways of financing development were becoming more available. That message is more urgent than ever. As reliance on aid becomes untenable, the international community must mobilise a broader array of financing sources to advance green and sustainable growth. This includes national development banks, industrial investment funds, sovereign wealth funds, and institutional investment in public markets, as well as innovative mechanisms such as debt swaps and public-private partnerships (PPPs). These tools can unlock domestic resources, attract long-term investors, and create synergies between public goals and private capital. Equity investment offers a promising avenue for engaging non-traditional development partners while reducing developing countries’ dependence on debt. Government investment funds, public and private financial institutions, and other private actors can participate by taking equity stakes in public enterprises, financing infrastructure projects, or joining PPPs. Such participation not only alleviates debt burdens but also improves the performance and management of public assets. As government-funded, mission-driven institutions, public development banks (PDBs) have the potential to provide patient capital for green and sustainable investment in emerging and developing economies (EMDEs). Building on the <a href="http://www.dfidatabase.pku.edu.cn/index.htm" target="_blank">pioneering database</a> of public development and financial institutions created by the Institute of New Structural Economics at Peking University, future research can identify effective ways to harness these institutions to fuel low-carbon growth. Responding to growing demand from the economies of the Global South, development partners have increasingly adopted an “entire value chain” approach to the green transition in recent years. This strategy facilitates transfers of low-carbon technologies, diffusion of digital innovations (including trade in services), and industrial modernisation, enabling countries included in China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) to accelerate their shift toward sustainable development. Empirical research supports this approach. An analysis covering 139 countries <a href="https://ember-energy.org/latest-insights/the-first-evidence-of-a-take-off-in-solar-in-africa/" target="_blank">finds</a> that, following policy directives to incorporate green and low-carbon principles into the BRI, carbon intensity (CO₂ emissions per unit of GDP) among participating countries declined significantly between 2013 and 2022. These findings are consistent with another <a href="https://ember-energy.org/latest-insights/the-first-evidence-of-a-take-off-in-solar-in-africa/" target="_blank">recent study</a> showing how China’s solar-energy expansion has helped transform Africa’s power sector. Investment in infrastructure and industrial development can also generate positive spillover effects. Evidence from Sub-Saharan Africa <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/jors.70023" target="_blank">shows</a> that the presence of at least one Chinese-financed infrastructure project in a second-order administrative region (comparable to a municipality) is associated with a 5% increase in nighttime luminosity – a widely used proxy for economic activity. Neighbouring regions experienced a 10-15% rise in luminosity, indicating that the benefits of such projects extend well beyond the immediate investment site.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251104131124_1a11d248a89b0785bc7d7f1d9f721e7e7a2563cbd579c3c672a0900220c19171.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251104131124_1a11d248a89b0785bc7d7f1d9f721e7e7a2563cbd579c3c672a0900220c19171" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="405" loading="lazy" alt="development aid and China"></figure>  These outcomes underscore the critical role of infrastructure investment, particularly in energy and transportation projects. By improving electricity access, affordability, and connectivity, they reduce energy poverty, bolster public services, and stimulate economic activity in underserved areas. To meet the evolving challenges of development finance, both traditional and non-traditional donors and creditors should move beyond aid and adopt multidimensional strategies that combine trade, investment, infrastructure, green technology, and digital connectivity, including fintech solutions, to support EMDEs. Importantly, such collaborations should be viewed as a mutual learning process in which partners assume complementary roles and shared responsibilities. To be sure, there have been missteps along the way. China’s financing of coal-fired power plants before 2021, for example, had slowed reduction in CO₂ emissions. But these outcomes, once recognised as policy errors, can help strengthen accountability and foster self-correcting mechanisms within the international development ecosystem. Through ongoing learning and adaptation, global partners can build a more resilient, inclusive, and sustainable framework for development finance. © <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/">Project Syndicate</a> Justin Yifu Lin, a former World Bank chief economist and Senior VP, is the honorary dean of the National School of Development and director of the Institute of New Structural Economics at Peking University. Yan Wang is Senior Academic Researcher at Boston University’s Global Development Policy Center.

Development finance must shift away from aid

This is the 73rd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I don’t remember playing with dolls as a little girl. There is not much to remember from my childhood.&nbsp; My responsibilities began at a very young age, as I had two younger brothers to take care of. I was born in Sarlahi, but we moved around quite a bit as my father was in the government and got transferred frequently.&nbsp; From Rasuwa to Dang, from Nepalgunj to Kathmandu. I struggled to adjust in Kathmandu because I joined Grade 9 in the middle of the term. The education was different and fellow students also did not support me initially. But over time, I adjusted and made friends. I did not dream of becoming a nurse. It was by accident. I wanted to pursue medicine, but failed the entrance exam by a few marks. I did not want to lose a year, so decided to take up microbiology instead.&nbsp; I got married after my undergraduate, and my husband encouraged me to take up something more technical like nursing or engineering instead of Masters in Microbiology. As my quantitative background was weak, I chose nursing. I felt like I was born to be a nurse. Juggling my married life and studies was difficult. My teachers would often ask me why I am falling behind. It was not easy, but I managed and took up a full-time job as a nurse. There are challenges being a nurse in Nepal. You are overworked, underpaid, there is lack of appreciation. Superiors can be overbearing. These problems persist. But the bright spot is that you get to serve fellow Nepalis, and be close to your family.&nbsp; Just like I had no intention initially of becoming a nurse, I had no intention of migrating overseas. But life had different plans for me. After my baby boy was born, I noticed that something was off. Even at nine months he had not started crawling or sitting. As a nurse I knew something was wrong, and I took him for check-ups. He tested negative for down syndrome, but he had a heart defect.&nbsp; The cardiologist recommended that I take him to India where he was diagnosed with Williams Syndrome, a rare genetic condition that affects 1 in 10,000 people. It delayed his development. I looked for therapy. It was either not effective, or too expensive. Some schools also refused to admit him, and it drove me to tears.&nbsp; My family members overseas in the UK, US told me to emigrate as there were better facilities for differently abled children. So I decided to apply to the UK. Luckily just then there were calls for candidates under the Nepal-UK government-to-government pilot scheme for 100 nurses. Only 40 met the criteria, and I was one of them.&nbsp; I still remember the day I received the news on the day of my puja. There were people around me, and they told me that it was the result of my fasting and devotion on that auspicious day. Perhaps it was. Life was taking a new turn, and I was happy. I made it to the UK in February 2024 without paying a single paisa to any broker. The G2G scheme was unique as we were treated with dignity and valued for our skills: they covered costs for the ticket and visa, reimbursed us for exams we had taken and costs involved in the preparation and testing of the Objective Structured Clinical Examination were also covered.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071148_dc5a0d0ea3024b34a4f2735754f8eb67a650bc7f61b98c75d589676c65b02a0c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251106071148_dc5a0d0ea3024b34a4f2735754f8eb67a650bc7f61b98c75d589676c65b02a0c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Nurses NT"> </figure>  It was of course difficult to leave my son behind. But I was doing it for his future. I had the option of taking him from the start, but it was a new place and I wanted to be well-settled and knowledgeable about the options available for him before bringing him along. As I packed, he would ask me to take him with me in my suitcase. It did not seem like he was affected by my departure, and it was only later that his teachers said that he would express his feelings more openly at school. He just did not know how to tell me he missed me, and he would tell teachers he was worried I had forgotten him if we did not speak for a day.&nbsp; He missed me, and that realisation made me emotional. But I had to carry on. Life in the UK was difficult in the beginning. Even so, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. Fortunately I had cooperative staff who patiently answered my questions. I think I would have been irritated if I were in their place. But they did not seem to mind, and their support and guidance made it easy for me to adjust to the new work environment. APPRECIATION I still struggle to understand the accent of my English patients, and have ask the matron for help. They compliment me on my English, but I can speak better than I understand. The good thing about working in the UK is that you are appreciated for your work, which can be motivating. Sometimes, after a long day’s work you get a message from your supervisor acknowledging your work with a thank you. That’s enough to erase your tiredness.&nbsp; So far I have received 32 WOW nominations which are acknowledgements from patients for a job well done. It can be motivating, especially in the beginning. The main difference between the Alpana who first left Kathmandu for the UK and the Alpana now is that I am a much more confident person. What makes a good nurse? Skills, knowledge and qualifications are of course a given. But mostly, you need humanity. A smiling face. The way you communicate. Your empathy. These attributes can already solve many problems that patients are facing. This is my second time back home in the last 20 months. And this time, I have arranged for my son’s visa. I will go back after Tihar with my son and husband.&nbsp; I am happy, but also a little nervous about what awaits us. What kind of school will I put him in? Will it really be different from schools here? Will his needs be addressed? Will it be like here, or will he be able to adjust?&nbsp; But I am determined to make it work. Success for me would be if he adjusted well and there is a change in his condition. He still cannot recognise alphabets and read words like kids in his age group. Hopefully he will get learning support in the UK. He also has a knack for music, and this is common among individuals with Williams Syndrome. His ears perk up when he hears music, and he takes part in musical events at school. He still does not recognise letters &nbsp;but he uses voice commands to search for guitar videos on YouTube. I will enrol him in music classes, and help him develop this gift. For now, I worry how he will behave on his long flight. He has a short attention span and gets restless. He is also very social and will want to speak with everyone around him, and might irritate fellow passengers.&nbsp; I have already started trying to make him understand that he will need to behave on the flight. He nods in agreement. Let’s see how it goes. &nbsp;