Visit any part of the world, and you will be certain to meet a Nepali these days. They all have stories of hopes and struggles, of being driven out of their homeland because of the lack of jobs and prospects. Excerpts of conversations with some compatriots I ran into on a trip this week.

Prakash S, Saptari at Kathmandu airport security check
“I am on my way to Kuwait. I paid Rs 80,000 to a dalal to get a work permit and ticket. They will send us to a shop and we have to do factory type work re. I will be paid Rs 8,000 a month. Maybe with OT I may even get Rs 10,000. The first year I will have to pay back the rin I took. After that I think I can start sending money home. I am going with two friends from Saptari and there are six others going to the same shop. Yaha kam chhaina. You will be lucky to get a job that pays Rs 3,000. People who have gone before say it is hard work, but you can save Rs 100,000 in three years. I can take care of my family with that.”

Gita K, Gaurighat at Doha airport transit
“I was a management graduate, I looked for employment in banking and insurance in Kathmandu, but they were clerical jobs and paid only Rs 10,000 a month. Now I am at the passenger assistance desk, and I get paid 2,300 riyals (about $600) a month. This is much better than some ketis  from my college. They are graduates but work as maids because they can’t afford to send their children to boarding schools in Nepal. I am lucky. I got this job because my English is good. If Nepalis learn English, or get some other sip talim before they go abroad their amdani can double. Most Nepalis here, even at this airport, are doing cleaning or manual jobs. My supervisors are from India, Bangladesh and Philippines and they are managers because they are better educated.”

G M, Tanahu, returning from Dubai
“At the moment things are really bad in Dubai. Lots of Nepalis have been laid off, especially in construction and other unskilled jobs. Many had their contracts terminated and they went back with any savings. I was lucky because I came to work in the information technology section of a petrochemical plant and help with data processing, and there haven’t been any layoffs and the earnings are good. Mero kamai mahina ko $400 jati chha. I am going home for a vacation after three years. I am really happy to be going back after so long. I am the only son, and my ex-serviceman father takes care of my family so I have been able to save quite a bit. I don’t know what I will do with my savings yet. Bihe? Khoi. But tell me: is Nepal’s economy ever going to improve? Will our netas be able to agree and write a new constitution?”

Sarad L, Jhapa, houseboy at Doha hotel
“I am really enjoying it here. I earn much better than I would in Nepal, where I worked as a waiter at a restaurant in Thamel. I get to meet new people, the hotel is very well managed. If you say you are Nepali in Qatar the guests in the hotel are very nice to you. Ramro bebahar garchhan. I earn quite a lot from overtime and tips–more than my salary. I will go home next year and I am sending about $100 every month to my family in Kakarbhitta. I don’t regret coming here, but I wish I had a college degree and could speak English or Arabic, because I could get promoted.”

Dipak, yellow cab driver,  Manhattan
“I came here 18 years ago, went to a good college and graduated in computers. I got a job, but got laid off in the current recession. I sat for the taxi exam. It was pretty easy. They test your English and you have to memorise the street names. Kamai ramrai chha, but I am embarrassed that I am driving a taxi. My family back in Nepal doesn’t even know. You aren’t going to write about me are you? If you do please don’t reveal my name. You are my first ever Nepali passenger. My Bangladeshi friend used to make nearly $10,000 in two months driving taxis in New York every summer. He invested it in a construction company in Dhaka and is doing a big business. But with the recession these days, earnings from taxis are down. Tara kamse kam jagir ta chha. I am definitely going back to Nepal someday. This is no place to live, especially for children. I don’t want my daughter to forget about our culture. I want to start a business, and maybe live half the time in Nepal and half the time here. What is happening to the dual citizenship proposal? I wish the rajniti back home would settle down, and the economy would improve.”

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Every once in a while, travelling through Nepal, you come across a sight so incongruous that you have to blink your eyes to believe it.

We were in Gaighat, there was some chukka jam or other, and there were no vehicles on the streets. Neighbourhood children were playing badminton on the dusty road. Suddenly, there was the deep reverberating sound of a heavy-duty motorcycle.

A woman, dressed in jeans and T-shirt was driving past in a 123 cc Enticer. Sitting behind her was another woman carrying a bag. They roared off in a cloud of dust and parked alongside a building down the road. I learnt that she was Najbul Khan Nilam with a colleague from a battered women’s shelter called Muldhar.

Nilam, 33, is an iconoclast. As a Muslim woman living in rural eastern Nepal and being an activist for women’s empowerment is not an easy thing to be. And it is her own personal history has brought her this far. From her childhood, Nilam bore the brunt of the triple discrimination of what women from her community have to put up with it from family, community and society. But there was something in her genes that made Nilam rebel.

She rebelled against her conservative father, who discouraged her from going to school, by enrolling in adult literacy classes as a teenager. Her brother set fire to her salwar kamij, and Nilam started wearing t-shirts and jeans. Then he threw away all her books, and she taught herself to drive a Vikram Tempo and got a job as a driver to earn her own money so she wouldn’t have to depend on her family.

She saw many fellow-Muslim women suffering the same psychological and physical trauma that she went through, and she started helping them. But then she found that women from other communities in Udaypur also suffered discrimination, and decided to set up Muldhar.

The Mainstream Women Service Centre, as it is known in English, now works with Muslim, Madhesi, Tharu and Dalit women of Udaypur district. Nilam and her volunteers (all battered or abandoned women themselves) get a case almost every day: domestic violence, divorce, trafficking.

Supported by very modest grants from donors, Muldhar is now doing the work of an entire government line ministry in the district. Nilam climbs up the stairs to her office, which has mattreses stacked along the side. “It is for battered women who come here who are too scared to go back to their husbands,” Nilam explains.

The phone rings. A ten-year-old girl has been raped by a 67-year-old man in an adjoining village. She rushes downstairs, guns her Enticer and is off. We find out later that she has brought the man to the police station and started legal proceedings against him with the help of a woman lawyer.

The next day, Nilam travelled to Kathmandu with a woman who had been severely burnt in an acid attack by her husband. Nilam is modest about what she has achieved. She says her inspiration is Taslima Nasrin, the Bangladeshi author banished from her own country.

Asked what kind of help she’d like, Nilam says she doesn’t really need money. But having seen so many women die of domestic violence or at childbirth because they couldn’t be taken to hospital in time, she says: “I could do with a maternity ambulance. I’d drive it myself.”

A version of this article appeared in the hard copy of Nepali Times in May 2009.

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Yubaraj Puri’s photograph of his friend Gyanendra Khadka’s body a day after his murder in Jyamire, Sindhupalchok.

It was 6 September, 2004. Gyanendra Khadka had just spoken at a gathering of teachers and guardians of a high school in Jyamire of Sindhupalchok. Four men in shorts approached him, tied his hands behind his back and led him away. “We’ll bring him back in a while,” they said, brandishing a pistol.

It was during the height of the war, and no one dared to follow. As Gyanendra passed his house, his daughter Ajita saw him being led away. “I’ll be back, go home,” he told his daughter. Ajita, who was only 10 years old then, ran in and told her mother what she had seen.

The captors had tied Gyanendra to a volleyball pole. They told Mithila Khadka to take one last look at her husband. The last thing she remembers before fainting is one of the assailants taking out a long khukuri.

Gyanendra Khadka’s throat was slit from the front and then chopped from behind. His slumped head was attached to the rest of his body only by a slender strand of muscle. Gyanendra’s friend and fellow-journalist, Yubaraj Puri, trembles as he shows me the spot where the volleyball court used to be. Nearly six years later, the memory of that murder still haunts him. A rooster crows nearby. The scent from the mustard fields fills the air. The sky is deep blue and the icy twin peaks of Dorje Lakpa shine in the bright winter sun.

Gyanendra’s body was still there the next day. His family and neighbours were too scared to remove his body. Yubaraj borrowed a camera and took pictures while tears streamed down his face. He helped the family organise the funeral, and filed the story for national newspapers, which printed the pictures on their front pages. The Maoists sent word that they’d kill him too. So, he quit his teaching job and returned back to his village only after the ceasefire in 2006.

The first time Yubaraj Puri’s name appeared with the picture he had taken of Gyanendra Khadka’s body was in the book A People War. The killer is known. The mastermind of the murder is now a personal assistant to a senior Maoist leader. Mithila never got over the horror of her husband’s murder. Ajita is now studying in Kathmandu. Gyanendra’s other children, Aswin and Asmita, study in the school where their father was a teacher. The extended family pitches in to help. But life is a struggle for Mithila.

When I was awarded the Surya Bhakta Patanadebi Memorial National Journalism Prize in December in Kawasoti of Nawalparasi for the trilogy of books I edited on the conflict, I had said the prize honoured the memory of all nine journalists who had laid down their lives during the conflict. I promised to hand over the Rs 15,101 prize to Gyanendra Khadka’s family. My publisher, Kiran Shrestha of nepa-laya, and I travelled with Yubaraj to Jyamire last week to hand over Rs 30,101 to Mithila.

Mithila broke down in tears. Gyanendra’s brother hugged me and sobbed uncontrollably. Gyanendra’s father said: “The most important thing is for us to know that you haven’t forgotten us.”

Gyanendra’s wife with their children Aswin and Asmita

Yubaraj points to the spot where the volleyball pole used to be.

Gyanendra’s father and son Aswin look at the story about him in the book, People After War.

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Most leaders, during election campaigns or after coming to power, make extravagant promises to turn Nepal into a Singapore within a short span of time. Our own PKD went a step further and said he’d do even better by making Nepal the “Switzerland of Asia”.

None of these leaders display the vision, sacrifice, integrity and hard work that was displayed by Singapore’s founding fathers. There is a yearning in South Asia’s messy democracies for a strong-man like Lee Kuan Yew, a righteous dictator, a father-figure who can lead to a brighter tomorrow. Unfortunately our experience with tyrants in South Asia is not very good. They tend not to be nation-builders. So we have to work with what we have–a rambunctious, feckless democracy–and make the best of it.

Just before the Singapore Air Show last week there was a media report about the CEO of Singapore Airlines revealing to an international conference the secret of his carrier’s success. He said the airline was never regarded by the Singapore government as a ‘national treasure’ or a ‘flag-carrier’. He added that inefficiencies (are you reading this, CAAN, GON, RNA?) crop up with government subsidies and political interference. “The government was the main shareholder of Singapore Airlines, but it gave full management discretion to the board…the secret was self-reliance and accountability,” he said. Unfortunately, our leaders since 1990 have treated Nepal Airlines as a personal cash cow and ran a perfectly good airline to the ground.

Traversing Singapore along the PIE in a motorcycle, you can see the result of LKY’s social engineering formula for jobs and economic growth. The idea was to decongest the city centre with housing and industry at satellite suburbs. The state built the infrastructure and subsidised residence apartments and factory floors to citizens, creating homeowners, raising income, creating jobs and leading to growth.

Instead of turning Nepal into Singapore, however, my friends Hans and Cynthia Hofer every week bring a bit of Nepal to Singapore by flying in organic vegetables, herbs and jams from their farm in Phulbari in Kavre. Organic Himalaya grows cabbages, lettuce, tomatoes, okra and other veggies and sends them on Silk Air flights for sale in Singapore the next day.

Cynthia, a former Straits Times journalist who manages the business, says her customers keep coming back because they know the vegetables are chemical-free, but also because they taste better. “There is something about the soil and climate of the Himalaya that gives the vegetables the taste that you don’t get in the supermarket produce here,” Cynthia says.

Organic Himalaya employs 50 farmers around Phulbari and indirectly benefits hundreds of other families. It cashes in on Nepal’s unique selling point of clean, green and organic produce. Some near-food purists may criticize the enlarged carbon footprint, but that criticism should be proportionately directed at those air-freighting tons of tuna and salmon around the world, or flying bottled water from France to Singapore.

Organic Himalaya is a demonstration farm to encourage Nepali farmers to sustainable agriculture. And it shows that if Singaporeans want to be more like Nepal, then maybe the answer is for Nepal to be even more like Nepal.

Recycled Chinese apple crates bring Nepali organic vegetables for sale in Singapore.

READ ALSO:
Organic growth

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Interview broadcast simultaneously on two Palpa community FM stations Radio Muktinath and Radio Madan Pokhara on 10 December.

Interview with Kunda Dixit from Nepali Times on Vimeo. (Audio only)

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PHOTO: KIRAN PANDAY

An earthquake hitting Kathmandu Valley is like all-out nuclear war. If you think about it too much you’ll go mad.

So most people try not to worry too much and get on with their lives. The experts say it is not a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’ we will see a repeat of the 1934 jolt along the Nepal-Bihar fault that registered 8.3 on the Richter scale.

The next time the epicenter could be in Rasuwa or southern Lalitpur where there are other fault lines. It could be in western Nepal, where a 300-year old seismic gap (no big earthquake to release the tectonic strain building up in the crust) is waiting to rumble.

There is an escarpment ridge on the Siwalik range, East of Hetauda, that looks as if the entire mountain has tilted on its side. A geologist once told me the 1934 earthquake pushed this entire ridge up by 3 metres, lifting it up and northwards along a 4km long outcrop.

The hard igneous rock of the Indian subcontinent that broke loose from Gondwananland is still pushing into and under the softer Eurasian continent. There is a tremendous amount of energy stored in the elasticity of the folding rocks. The subterranean strata snap periodically under the strain and that is when the mountains are pushed up in sudden jerky movements.

What has changed since the last earthquake is that Nepal has become the most densely populated mountain region on earth. Rapid urbanisation has tripled Kathmandu Valley’s population over the past 20 years. Cities like Pokhara have dramatically expanded in size.

Looking at the devastation in Haiti this week–the absence of government and relief, the social anarchy–it is not difficult to imagine Kathmandu’s fate. Like Haiti, we have no disaster preparedness plan. Nepal and Haiti are both the poorest countries in their regions. Both have unplanned and haphazard urban growth. Port-au-Prince’s advantage is that even if the airport is destroyed, relief can come from the sea.

Our only advantage is the knowledge that the next ‘Big One’ can happen any day. The Kathmandu Valley lies on a seismic zone that has historically had 8 magnitude quakes every 75 years. We can’t say we weren’t warned. There is no excuse not to be prepared. Here are some worst-case scenarios I ferreted out of some disaster experts. It scared the living daylights out of me:

Magnitude 8.3 on a winter evening with brisk westerly wind: Eighty percent of Kathmandu’s buildings collapse at a time when most people are at home preparing dinner. Gas cyclinders explode and kitchen fires spread. Fanned by the wind, the city is engulfed in a firestorm. There is no escape because Kathmandu has almost no open spaces left. Almost as many people are burnt alive as are crushed by falling buildings.

Severe earthquake at 1AM: Most people are sleeping at home. Maximum casualties result from crushed buildings. Those rushing to the streets are buried by falling cantilever balconies. There is no light or excavating equipments. Streets are blocked by debris. Most hospitals are damaged. The city wakes up to the horrific sight of complete devastation. When people get no food, medical care or help to rescue trapped relatives, there is looting and riots.

Magnitude 8 at 11AM on a monsoon morning after days of heavy rain: Kathmandu’s topsoil liquefies (like Mexico City in 1985), buildings collapse and the ruins “float” on ground that has turned into paste. The heaviest casualties are in collapsed government buildings, offices and schools. Airport runway is swallowed up by liquefaction and is unusable. Landslides wipe out all highways. International relief is dropped by parachute, but arrives days later.

The bad news is that even the best-case scenario points towards casualties in the tens of thousands and major damage to infrastructure. The government has drafted a disaster preparedness and relief plan, but the legislation is sitting on some desk in Singha Darbar.

With help from NGOs like National Society for Earthquake Technology and municipalities, some wards of Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur have started to stock up on digging equipments, and drawn up emergency plans for evacuation, shelter, medical treatment and relief. But most wards have no plans at all. The reality is we are not prepared for the Big One, and it is going to be individuals and communities who have to look after their own.

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From Sanibar Nagarik :

देश जहीँको तहीँ
- कुन्द दीक्षित

नेपालको राजनीतिमा देखिएको गाँठो फुकाउन कताबाट कसरी सुरु गर्ने भन्नेमा हामी महिनौं अल्झेर बसेका छौं। यसमा त्यति ठूलो समस्या हुनु नपर्ने हो। एउटा मामुली प्रश्नको उत्तरबाट को ठिक र को बेठिक भन्ने बुझ्न सकिन्छ — कुन राजनीतिक शक्तिले हिंसाको प्रयोग गर्छ र कसले गर्दैन? कुन पार्टीले नीतिगत रूपमा हिंसालाई आफ्नो आधारभूत मान्यताभित्र राख्छ र कसले राख्दैन? कुन पार्टीले सार्वजनिक रूपमा हिंसा परित्याग गरेको छैन र कुन पार्टीले आफ्नो क्रियाकलाप, चुनावको तयारी र प्रभाव विस्तारका लागि हिंसाको प्रयोग गर्दैनन्?

कुन राजनीतिक शक्ति ठिक बाटोमा र कुन खराब बाटोमा हिँडेको छ भन्ने यति एउटा कुराबाट प्रस्ट हुनुपर्ने हो। हिंसालाई राजनीतिक अस्त्रका रूपमा प्रयोग गर्ने उग्रवाम र उग्रदक्षिणपन्थीहरूले हिंसाबाटै सत्ता प्राप्त गर्ने र त्यसको रक्षा गर्ने सिद्धान्त बोकेका हुन्छन्। अरू पार्टीहरूले देशको कानुन र अन्तर्राष्ट्रिय मानवअधिकारका मान्यताभित्र रहेर राज्यका सुरक्षा निकायद्वारा भौतिक दबाब दिन सक्छन्। राज्यका सुरक्षा अंगहरूबाट भएका हिंसात्मक क्रियाकलापलाई हिंसात्मक रणनीति र सिद्धान्तमा विश्वास गर्ने उग्र समूहहरूसँग तुलना गर्न मिल्दैन।

अहिले अफसोच र बुझ्न नसकिएको कुरा के हो भने माओवादी पार्टी जो जनताको बहुमत जितेर संविधानसभा र संसदमा सबभन्दा ठूलो पार्टी बनेर आउन सफल भयो, त्यसले किन हिंसा, धम्की र आतंक परित्याग गर्न सकेको छैन? जुन दलले अहिंसात्मक किसिमले …ब्यालट’ जित्न सफल भइसकेको छ, त्यसलाई …बुलेट’ को अब के खाँचो? त्यसलाई अझै वाइसिएलको जत्था पाल्न र सर्वसाधारणलाई तर्साएर पैसा असुल्न किन पर्‍यो? निजी सम्पत्ति कब्जा गर्दै बेच्दै गर्नु प्रत्युत्पादक होइन र?

गत दुई वर्षको अन्तरालमा म सात महिना देशका विभिन्न जिल्ला घुमेँ, पत्रकार साथीहरूसँग अन्तरक्रिया गरेँ। …लडाइँमा जनता’ र …युद्धपछि जनता’ मा आधारित फोटो प्रदर्शनीका दर्शक र सर्वसाधारणका भित्री मनको कुरा बुझ्ने प्रयास गरेँ।

देशभरि ९९ दशमलव ९ प्रतिशत मानिस हिंसारहित राजनीतिबाटै विकास हुन्छ भन्ने विश्वास गर्छन्। अब हिंसा सधैंको लागि परित्याग गर्छन् र देशमा सामाजिक, आर्थिक र राजनीतिक सुधार ल्याउँछन् कि भनेरै उनीहरूले माओवादी पार्टीलाई जिताएका हुन्। अरू दलबाट अब पार लाग्दैन भन्ने कुरा बुझेर कति माओवादी क्रियाकलाप मन नपराउनेहरूले पनि अब उनीहरू जंगल पस्दैनन्, हामीलाई दुःख दिँदैनन्, अब हामीसँग चन्दा माग्दैनन्, अब हाम्रा छोराछोरीलाई तानेर सैन्य सिविरतिर लाँदैनन् र अब देशमा शान्ति आउला र विकास होला भन्ने विश्वासले माओवादीलाई जिताएर संसद पठाएका हुन्।

माओवादीले जित्न त जित्यो तर हिंसा त्यागेन। लडाइँ सिद्धिएर पनि देशमा शान्ति आएन। अझ माओवादीले जातीय कुरालाई राजनीतीकरण गरेर आफ्नो १० वर्षे वर्गीय युद्धलाई जातीय, साम्प्रदायिक हिंसा र द्वन्द्वमा परिणत गर्न खोजेर डरलाग्दो खतरा उब्जाएको छ। अरू देशमा जातीय पृथकतावादी युद्धको रिपोर्टिङ गर्ने मौका पाएकाले मलाई थाहा छ, वर्गीय हिंसाभन्दा जातीय गृहयुद्ध धेरै गुणा भीषण हुन्छ। यसमा गाउँका गाउँ सखाप हुन्छन्। लडाकु र गैरलडाकु भन्ने कुरा छुट्याइन्न। र, मुलुक चकनाचुर हुन्छ।

यसलाई फेरि पुनर्निर्माण गर्न दसकौं लाग्छ। माओवादीले आफ्नो हिंसात्मक र आपराधिक गतिविधि नत्यागेर आफूलाई भोट दिने जनतालाई त धोका दियो दियो, तर त्यो हिंसालाई अब जातीय गन्ध दिएर देशलाई फेरि भीरतिर धकेल्दैछ। उसको यस्ता क्रियाकलाप गैरजिम्मेवारपूर्ण हो, यसले माओवादी आफैलाई नै फाइदा गर्दैन भन्नेहरूलाई उनीहरू तुरुन्तै …दक्षिणपन्थी’, …सामन्ती’, …विदेशी दलाल’ भनिहाल्छन्। जिल्लातिर त फरक मत राख्नेहरूलाई कुट्ने र पत्रकारहरूलाई तर्साएर …सेल्फ सेन्सरसिप’ गर्न बाध्य तुल्याएका छन्।

गत दुई वर्षको यात्राका क्रममा नेपालको मेचीदेखि महाकालीसम्म राजनीतिको अपराधीकरण र अपराधीहरूको राजनीतीकरण प्रत्यक्ष देखियो। भूमाफिया, तस्करी, घुसपैठ, अपहरण, हत्या, सामुदायिक वनविनास, सुकुमबासीको नाममा जंगल फँडानी र अरू गैरकानुनी गतिविधिमा पूर्व कमरेडहरू संलग्न देखिए। केही ठाउँमा त कसैले ठट्टा नै गरे — अब माओवादीहरू जंगल फर्कंदैनन् रे, किनभने जंगल नै बाँकी छैन।

तर दोलखामा भेटिएका एक पूर्व गाविस पदाधिकारीले जेठमा मलाई भनेको कुरा झल्झली याद आउँछ — …यत्रा १६ हजार नेपाली मर्नु परेको त ठेक्कापट्टाको लागि मात्रै पो रहेछ!’

यो देशमा राजाहरूले पनि शासन गरे, …आर्ज्याको मुलुक’ भनेर। माओवादीले बन्दुकबाट शासन खोस्न खोज्यो, नसकेपछि चुनावै जितेर शासन पनि गर्‍यो। २०४६ सालपछि कांग्रेसले आफ्नै लम्फु पाराले देश हाँक्यो। एमालेले न यता न उताको राजनीति खेल्यो। जनताले सबैले शासन गरेको हेरे, तर कसैले विकासलाई गति दिन सकेनन्। सबैले फूर्ति गरे तर कोही सत्तामा टिक्दा पनि टिकेनन्। अहिले आएर गत चार वर्षमा जातीय, क्षेत्रीय, साम्प्रदायिक राजनीति गर्नेहरू पनि निस्के। सबैको कुरा बाहिर आइसक्यो तर देश जहीँको तहीँ छ।

अब खाँचो छ एउटा …फ्रेस स्टार्ट’ को। शुक्रबार भएको तीन दलका शीर्ष नेताको राजनीतिक संयन्त्र ढिलो भए पनि सही दिशातर्फको एउटा कदम हो। यसमा अरू कुनै राजनीतिक नियत नघुसाउने हो भने, सत्ताको खेलमा फेरि यो पनि प्रयोग नहुने हो भने, कुनै पनि क्षेत्र, वर्ग र अरू उपेक्षित समुदायलाई फेरि पाखा नलगाउने हो भने यसले सहमतिका साथ अल्झेको राजनीतिको गाँठो फुकाइदिनेछ।

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