A Member of Parliament operates a fast-food restaurant. Another MP runs a trout hatchery. A female party leader owns a pig farm. All three <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-women-go-from-home-to-house">women are in the business of politics</a>, and they have established and run their own enterprises on the side to augment household income and to backstop their careers. While their male counterparts in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/can-nepal-elections-change-its-male-stream-politics">local, provincial and federal</a> governments have earned some notoriety for having a conflict of interest because they are also infrastructure contractors, these women <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/women-leaders-set-example-for-rest-of-nepal">multitask without mixing business with politics</a>.&nbsp; Coffee, avocado and banana  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100332_7a5870a2238cf1567a28cc76eedff184b91864c9e900dd8db4aed064296a64f5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230314100332_7a5870a2238cf1567a28cc76eedff184b91864c9e900dd8db4aed064296a64f5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="devi khadka"> <figcaption>Photo: DEVI KHADKA</figcaption> </figure>  Devi Khadka is a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/guerrilla-turned-member-of-parliament">former guerrilla</a> and Maoist Centre MP from Dolakha who was elected to the Constituent Assembly in 2008. And while she might have once walked the corridors of power in Kathmandu, Khadka is still attached to the roots of her family’s farming profession. &nbsp; In 2008, Khadka established a trout farm in Dolakha, but it was irreparably destroyed during the 2015 earthquake. However, she remained steadfast in her decision to continue her business and began growing tomatoes in greenhouses in Bhaktapur. But while Khadka’s farm thrived, things were not going so well back home in Dolakha, where she was the district in-charge under the erstwhile Nepal Communist Party formed after the merger of the UML and the Maoist Centre. A meeting of elected officials of nine municipalities of Dolakha were worried that subsidised farming and agriculture in general had become all but impossible in the district because of out-migration and low yield. Khadka was determined to do something about it – not through politics but with enterprise. “The decline of agriculture shook me to my core,” Khadka recalls. “I realised that it would be impossible to revive the people's hope and trust in farming unless I did not show them myself that properly done agriculture in Dolakha was still worthwhile.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314110312_c6dfaed9dfa3fa749e4465979344458f3af67ce6191c2839f71dde6ee9a8d561.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230314110312_c6dfaed9dfa3fa749e4465979344458f3af67ce6191c2839f71dde6ee9a8d561" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="423" loading="lazy" alt="devi khadka 2"> <figcaption>Photo: DEVI KHADKA</figcaption> </figure>  So, Khadka returned home and set up the Women Floris Agriculture Private Limited in Gaurishankar Municipality, where for the last three years, Khadka and her husband Raj Kumar Shrestha have been growing coffee, avocados and bananas. Along with two other women, she set up the farm with an investment of Rs5 million. The three women are involved full-time in the business and employ 12 men on a part-time basis whenever it is farming season.&nbsp; Khadka juggles this with her role as a Central Committee member of the Maoist party. And while avocado and banana sell mostly in the domestic market, she has successfully negotiated to export her farm’s coffee to South Korea, Australia and Japan and other countries. “The business has not only given me financial independence, it has also made me an ethical politician,” she says. “Because of my business, I am able to engage in politics without resorting to dirty business, I get to demonstrate a high moral standing to my children and ensure that they have a good future.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-in-the-driving-seat">Women in the driving seat</a>, Shristi Karki Fast food and slow fashion  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_8b919284442cc235aef28995d6a6019c4ae30b59f4909c12a2d38b2eace55d6b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230314100336_8b919284442cc235aef28995d6a6019c4ae30b59f4909c12a2d38b2eace55d6b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="NABINA LAMA 1"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Nabina Lama was an MP in Nepal’s last Federal Parliament and is currently a central member of the UML. But despite an active political career, Lama owns not only one but two businesses. Her restaurant, Doban Pool Burger House in Kathmandu employs dozens of people. And many more benefit from her clothing store Rimthim Ethnic Collection, where she sells products made out of traditional dhaka and allo fabric. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_d66df1ecbfe9bd68801a6f79c910b48a6f9fac6abc5772cb8735069fdfc37b7d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230314100336_d66df1ecbfe9bd68801a6f79c910b48a6f9fac6abc5772cb8735069fdfc37b7d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="NABINA LAMA 2"> </figure>  Lama’s ethnic fashion store is a joint venture with four other women entrepreneurs, and she is a 70% partner in the fast food restaurant. Whenever Lama is busy with her party work, her husband looks after day-to-day business at both outlets. &nbsp; Like Khadka, Lama agrees that entrepreneurship has made her financially self-sufficient and independent. She adds, “Having a business is the only reason I have been able to actively engage in politics.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nurture-in-her-nature/">Nurture in her nature</a>, Babita Shrestha Piggery and soap  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_856e2ee40a5325ef875171139823c68a89637985bde3910396fda3e74dbf736b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230314100336_856e2ee40a5325ef875171139823c68a89637985bde3910396fda3e74dbf736b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="DHAN KUMARI SUNAR 1"> </figure>  Dhan Kumari Sunar, president of the Women's Organisation of the Scientific Socialist Communist Party of Nepal, operated a pig farm until it collapsed due to poor market management. But she did not let failure get her spirits down. Two years ago, she started the Tillikka Jhol Sabun Udhyog that makes liquid detergent together with Rs120,000 in investments from 12 other women from her party. Sunar took inspiration from her party’s ‘scientific’ ideology of an independent and self-reliant economy to set up her business.&nbsp; “The economic ownership of Nepali women in terms of resources and property is only 26%,” explains Sunar. “Entrepreneurship is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-nepal-women-hold-up-more-than-half-the-sky">crucial to women’s freedom</a>, we cannot be truly free until we are financially independent.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230314100336_02ffdefb8f1a074d28eb890aa7d2c9cf2dcc1c8d22899aff999d9aeb21014566.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20230314100336_02ffdefb8f1a074d28eb890aa7d2c9cf2dcc1c8d22899aff999d9aeb21014566" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="DHAN KUMARI SUNAR 2"> </figure>  Sunar’s business runs on word-of-mouth, and is doing well. But the politician in her is critical of the lack of state support for small businesses, adding that her loan proposal has been stalled. Says Sunar: “The government promises to facilitate self-employment of Nepali youth, but it is not happening on the ground. Powerful middlemen who control businesses seize the loans set aside for women and low-income individuals and communities." Translated from the Himal Khabar <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/134729">original</a> by Shristi Karki.&nbsp; Read also:&nbsp; <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/women-moving-nepal-s-climate-activism">Women moving Nepal’s climate activism</a>, Sewa Bhattarai <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-women-connecting-nepal">The women connecting Nepal</a>, Sahina Shrestha

original

610x380

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

Here & Now

Nepal’s enterprising women in politics

While Dutch conservationist and architect Anne Feenstra was giving a presentation ten years ago at a World Wildlife Fund (WWF) event in Kathmandu, Ang Phuri Sherpa was fascinated. This was a whole new way to design modern buildings in Nepal’s mountains that respected heritage, conformed to the climate, and conserved energy using locally available raw material.&nbsp; Sherpa was working for WWF at the time, but when he became Country Director for the Red Panda Network (RPN) he remembered the presentation from all those years ago, and approached Feenstra’s Sustainable Mountain Architecture (SMA) to help design a new resource centre in Taplejung. RPN has been working in Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in eastern Nepal to protect the endangered red panda, and its researcher <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-conservationist-wins-whitley-award">Sonam Tashi Lama</a> in 2022 won the Whitley Award for his work. Feenstra and his Nepali colleague Sapana Shakya at SMA designed the Rs20 million two-storied building at Deurali near Taplejung airport which serves to provide information about the red panda and the need to protect its habitat.&nbsp; The tastefully designed and functional multi-purpose resource centre is also supposed to pay for its own upkeep by offering accommodation and dining to trekkers, researchers, students and other visitors.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310110348_da88f94ba8af650b6f87708ba62bc24a18ea146b8759ec29e80d400e97b2be03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230310110348_da88f94ba8af650b6f87708ba62bc24a18ea146b8759ec29e80d400e97b2be03" data-rendition-name="original" width="2204" height="1257" loading="lazy" alt="Red Panda House"> <figcaption>The Red Panda Research Centre is located on a ridge top near Taplejung. All photos: SUSTAINABLE MOUNTAIN ARCHITECTURE</figcaption> </figure>  Since it is located on the route to Pathibhara, it could also be a comfortable stopover for pilgrims. And all guests will also automatically learn about the need to preserve the red panda habitat Known as हाब्रे in Nepali, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/red-panda-on-the-red-list">the red panda is critically endangered</a> and lives on the canopy of broadleaf in mixed temperate forests from western Nepal to Sichuan. The mammal is not related to the giant panda, and is not a bear but is closer to racoons and squirrels. There are now less than 10,000 wild red pandas, with 800 in zoos around the world. In Nepal, there are about 1,000 of the animals living in bamboo and rhododendron forests in 24 of the country’s mountain districts, mostly in eastern Nepal. But their population is in decline because of poaching and habitat destruction. Despite not having any medicinal, cultural, or religious value, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/republic-of-nepal-s-animal-kingdom">red pandas</a> are being poached for their pelt.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310110352_59ba2f0eaddb108b8897728eb29fee6f2d538b1cb009698f6f6ed921e9e495b1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230310110352_59ba2f0eaddb108b8897728eb29fee6f2d538b1cb009698f6f6ed921e9e495b1" data-rendition-name="original" width="774" height="744" loading="lazy" alt="Red Panda distribution and habitat"> <figcaption>The Red Panda range spans Nepal to Sichuan in China. There are about 1,000 of the rare mammals remaining in Nepal's forests, mainly in the east.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310110348_d5d82659a79df8c8e52600433492b352505d9026d161428e9ef53c8e8e1eba3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230310110348_d5d82659a79df8c8e52600433492b352505d9026d161428e9ef53c8e8e1eba3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Red Panda in Nepal"> <figcaption>Photo: JAMES HOUSTON/RED PANDA NETWORK</figcaption> </figure>  Anne Feenstra has designed more than 50 similar sustainable buildings in mountain regions across the world in the past three decades, including a structure in an Afghan national park that is home to snow leopards. “As a student of architecture, I have always been a proponent of climate-friendly construction,” explains Feenstra. “When rainfall, the sun, and other topographical and environmental elements are not taken into account, a building will not be sustainable.”&nbsp; Indeed, Feenstra explains, every mountain region is different, and requires a specific <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/foundations-for-sustainable-buildings-in-nepal">building approach</a> from the type of roof, windows and height of the ceiling based on local climate and available local materials. The Red Panda Centre in Taplejung sits on a forested ridge 2,600m in Deurali near Taplejung. The wood-and-stone structure is conceptually modelled on a mountain lodge, is built to withstand heavy winter snowfall, and is earthquake resistant. The floor is made of local stone, while the second floor is timber. The roof is up-cycled tin coated in tar. Feenstra and Shakya studied indigenous building materials and construction techniques which are disappearing because of cement and concrete.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310110344_58e29764a142eacdb722dfa79377a49bafefcc2c1d47403f34cda70e3cee2486.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230310110344_58e29764a142eacdb722dfa79377a49bafefcc2c1d47403f34cda70e3cee2486" data-rendition-name="original" width="1776" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Red Panda House"> <figcaption>Architectural renditions of the interior of the structure which has been designed with local materials and to also serve as a visitor centre and a lodge to generate income. Photos: SUSTAINABLE MOUNTAIN ARCHITECTURE</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310110344_451328764ac8314a2517a5cd43139c94ca6df4b47b6889d6954d69d59fa546d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230310110344_451328764ac8314a2517a5cd43139c94ca6df4b47b6889d6954d69d59fa546d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1776" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Red Panda House"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310110344_1ed7be0772d331be7a4286563f49ac5098109060391e86b86afd4bcef711f826.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20230310110344_1ed7be0772d331be7a4286563f49ac5098109060391e86b86afd4bcef711f826" data-rendition-name="original" width="1776" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Red Panda House"> </figure>  “When we use indigenous resources, we must always pay the utmost attention to native skills and materials,” says Shakya, who helped design new school buildings in Makwanpur and other districts after the 2015 earthquake.&nbsp; “It is the combination of local skill and resources that makes any building stronger,” she says. For Ang Phuri Sherpa of <a href="https://redpandanetwork.org/">Red Panda Network</a>, the building is exactly what he had hoped for. He says the use of cement for construction would have been costlier and less climate friendly. “The reduction of our carbon footprint and the use of local skill and resources were our primary objectives in the construction of this resource centre,” says Sherpa. The research centre also serves as a place where knowledge about water harvesting, smokeless fuel-efficient use of firewood, and other techniques will be shared with local people who are suffering a scarcity of water in the dry season. As the number of trekkers to the Kanchenjunga region grows, villagers will also be given practical knowledge about running homesteads and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/eco-tourism-in-gadi-siraichuli">promoting ecotourism</a>.&nbsp;

674x448

500x500

1250x600

1084x550

The Red Panda House

Subha Shrestha got married at 18 and became a mother at 21. A few years later, she was a struggling single mother trying to earn enough to raise her young son. She had become the sole breadwinner of her family, and had to do all the unpaid household work as well. “If you ask me, it is harder to be a homemaker than working outside the home,” says Shrestha.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310040328_6e7d3b923d4381b043202d1505e415eb7a9597cd6377d9c36f37942b44bbc2c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230310040328_6e7d3b923d4381b043202d1505e415eb7a9597cd6377d9c36f37942b44bbc2c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A homemaker’s worth"></figure>  Ask any Nepali: being a doctor or engineer is the most desired and respected profession in the country. A job in the military is regarded as being the toughest, and bank CEOs make the most money. But what about homemakers? Most Nepalis do not even think of them in monetary terms. But maybe we should start putting a price tag on all the work ‘jobless’ women do at home. According to salaryexplorer.com, an army officer in Nepal makes Rs66,500 a month on average. Salaries range from Rs30,600 to Rs106,000. And loksewajob.com pegs healthcare worker salaries at anywhere between Rs24,602 to Rs72,082. A homemaker (or ‘housewife’ as we used to call them) makes no money at all. Women toiling away at home are not just underpaid, they are not paid at all. Nepali Times tallied what an average Nepali middle-class full-time homemaker in Kathmandu would be earning if she were to be paid for all the work she does around the house. The total was Rs115,000 a month whereas a mid-level government official would have a monthly salary of only Rs45,000.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023031005034_a234c5d9ce6e90661c1f470797d757f56fd9a6bb24d5a7e1071469d53650ea2f.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023031005034_a234c5d9ce6e90661c1f470797d757f56fd9a6bb24d5a7e1071469d53650ea2f" data-rendition-name="original" width="471" height="888" loading="lazy" alt="Home work NT"></figure>  And this does not even include extra errands during occasional family gatherings, feasts and festivals where women end up doing all the work. Usually, the men sit around, drink, chitter-chatter and gossip about politics. Moreover, we cannot even put a monetary value to the care a homemaker provides her family that no salaried help ever would, or could. For all this work, a homemaker does not expect anything in return, except love and acceptance. Yet, the work of millions of Nepali women is not recognised, they are rarely anyone’s inspiration, and they are often overlooked by other career women.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310040328_31894703b869dde0e0d09784ae31051625936a37efb7b3c8a9cbf45165e3a736.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230310040328_31894703b869dde0e0d09784ae31051625936a37efb7b3c8a9cbf45165e3a736" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Photos: SUMAN NEPALI"></figure>  Most women with regular jobs have the added burden of balancing home and work. But it is the effort of a homemaker that makes it possible for male members of households to take up a profession in the first place. Oftentimes, homemakers have to eventually sacrifice their careers because they are needed at home. Every career-oriented woman has a mother or a sister at home to thank for her success. Our society also ignores how it is the women who have to make all the adjustments after getting married: she has to leave her home and parents for an unknown household.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310040328_723a7ba4ba0e96c7a77d5a2865ed1546e693a132e5c43c8355c94760bc4e3e5c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230310040328_723a7ba4ba0e96c7a77d5a2865ed1546e693a132e5c43c8355c94760bc4e3e5c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2677" height="3966" loading="lazy" alt="Photos: SUMAN NEPALI"><figcaption>Photo courtesy: SUBHA SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>  Homemakers work 24/7, they cannot complain, they get no breaks. They do not get annual leave. Public holidays are like any other day, and festival time means more work. There is no annual bonus, no pension. They do not have a sick leave. Perhaps the most glaring inequality within most Nepali households is how mothers and grandmothers prepare all meals but are the last to eat, usually cold leftovers, and then have to do the dishes. “I was free at my parent’s home, but having been married into a conservative family, it was really difficult for me to adapt,” recalls Shrestha, adding that she had to wake up at 3AM to finish all of her morning chores before heading out at 6AM to the store her husband’s family owned.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310040328_9b8ee916db1b5bba35ffc966a684f9c4588781d4a76d78b32c65a53cc0d931c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230310040328_9b8ee916db1b5bba35ffc966a684f9c4588781d4a76d78b32c65a53cc0d931c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1975" height="2889" loading="lazy" alt="Photos: SUMAN NEPALI"><figcaption>Photo courtesy: SUBHA SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>  Shrestha was barely an adult herself at 18, and was caring for her sickly son with no financial support. Her son had to be taken to the hospital frequently, sometimes twice a day. Her sisters who are also homemakers looked out for her and helped her set up a stationery store later. Says her son Evan, who is now 21 years old: “All the credit for how I have grown up to be a good person goes entirely to my Mom.” Shrestha herself is thankful for the life she has now with her son despite a lifetime of hardships.

A homemaker’s worth

<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/manose-nepali-flutist,1950" target="_blank">Manose Newa</a> was just eight, growing up in Kathmandu, when a haunting, mysterious sound came through the night and stirred his soul. As he grew up, he searched for that sound, and only the sound of air being blown through a hole in a bamboo pipe came close to what he heard that night.&nbsp; It was not the same sound, but close enough. And that is what today has made musician Manose synonymous with the flute.&nbsp; “The flute is a device for connection,” says Manose, “with it one can move souls, hearts, and create beauty.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310070344_770911b85b4e34c488da97bb38b7a1ac0ba7375a3fb5fef81aeba7dbc1760318.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230310070344_770911b85b4e34c488da97bb38b7a1ac0ba7375a3fb5fef81aeba7dbc1760318" data-rendition-name="original" width="1242" height="1467" loading="lazy" alt="Manose Singh Türkiye-Syria Earthquake"> </figure>  A strong sense of existential fulfilment is a driving force behind Manose’s composition. At 46, he is a flute virtuoso and has played with Cadenza Collective, 1974 AD, Ani Choying and his own band, Sukarma. In 2019 he also became the first Nepali to be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-new-age-of-grammy-nominee-manose/" target="_blank">nominated for a Grammy</a> for his contribution to musician Deva Premal’s album, Deva, in the Best New Age Album category. Manose is preparing for a concern in aid of survivors of the Türkiye-Syria Earthquake last month. The ‘Samjhana: Songs for the Inner Lovers’ concert will be held 11 March at Moksh in Jhamsikhel. “Music is instantaneous,” he snaps his fingers to recreate that lightning-speed contact between a musician and the audience happening in real time. The sound and melody of flute brings him close to the creator, spiritually and literally.&nbsp; “The distance between the divine and ourselves closes. I want to translate this inspiration for my audience and inspire them in turn,” he adds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310070348_d705f709df97bbc161281a49dc6ebc94b5dfe503dde728efd645f21fdcaef533.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230310070348_d705f709df97bbc161281a49dc6ebc94b5dfe503dde728efd645f21fdcaef533" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Manise Newa Türkiye-Syria Earthquake"> </figure>  Music came naturally to Manose from a young age as he scoured Boudha and Pashupati for that sound. In 1998 at age of 20, he left Nepal for a tour with the Nepali tabla player, Homnath Upadhayaya. He has performed in over 25 countries since, and says he is still searching for that magical sound he heard when he was eight. It is that quest that keeps him going.&nbsp; “The longing itself is beautiful,” he smiles, “and it keeps the journey alive, gives me purpose. It makes me curious and motivates me.” Manose is back in Nepal for the time being, playing with the band 1974AD and is working on projects that had been on hold previously, including an album with a pianist from Slovenia. “After the Covid pandemic, I felt like I needed to be more present in Nepal,” he says. Manose recently performed in Australia and New Zealand with 1974AD with Australian ambassador to Nepal Felicity Volk present in one of them. “We wanted to send a message of unity to the community there, to encourage them to give back to Nepal and make changes here as well,” he adds. The response from the Nepali diaspora there was heart-warming.&nbsp; “So many do want to return, but the system …” he trails off, shaking his head. It is a different experience to play for a Nepali audience than an international audience. Playing at a flute festival in California is an invitation to a global audience to interact with the music and culture of Nepal, to promote these internationally.&nbsp; To a Nepali audience, on the other hand, the बाँसुरी becomes a means to connect and access our ancient culture, pool of knowledge and practices. “It is not whether one good and the other is bad, he adds, they are just &nbsp;different,” he adds. “We have so much to offer to the world,” Manose says. “There is a lot of materialism coming from the west, and we, in turn, could present our culture, our temples, our music, history and rituals to counter that. This is our treasure.” The concert ‘Samjhana’ is also an offering. Manose recalls running into a friend of a friend from Türkiye recently at Moksh after the deadly earthquake on 6 February.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310070348_40c89d63e2eedab361f4fa4d8b5fdb4b750232e4eda89e61faed428bab8b2994.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230310070348_40c89d63e2eedab361f4fa4d8b5fdb4b750232e4eda89e61faed428bab8b2994" data-rendition-name="original" width="2593" height="3364" loading="lazy" alt="Manose Singh Türkiye-Syria Earthquake"> </figure>  “I said I was very sorry for what was happening to their country and that I wished there was something I could do,” he says. “They had tears in their eyes as they thanked me.” Manose was not in Nepal when the 2015 Gorkha earthquake of the same magnitude rocked the country. “Still, I felt the tremors, it was a traumatic experience for all Nepalis, whether living here or abroad. And now to see the same is happening elsewhere in the world … I wondered what would happen if the disaster had struck here instead of Türkiye and Syria,” he says. The concert is not so much about raising money, but to offer kindness. At the concert, Manose will be singing, playing his flute, joined also by the Kathmandu Jazz Conservatory choir. Then on 18 March, 1974AD, of which Manose is a member, will perform a free concert to raise awareness on autuism at Tundikhel. “It will be a gathering of friends, loved ones and music for a good cause,” he says. “It is important that as a community we practice being kind to each other, not turn away when someone else is in need. When you do things from a place of good intention, it comes back to you ten-folds.” 'Samjhana: Songs for the Inner Lovers' Saturday, 11 March 2023 7:00PM&nbsp; Moksh, Jhamsikhel Ticket: Rs2,000 (Limited) For reservation: +9779841389652 ------- 'Free Concert to Raise Awareness on Autism' Saturday, 18 March 2023 5:00PM (please enter by 4.30pm)&nbsp; Tudhikel Please bring your own water bottle to help reduce plastic waste. Water refills available at the venue.

Kind of music for kindness

This is the 26th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad I grew up in a lahure household in Dharan and my parents were in the military abroad and were good providers. But life took a different track when I was married at 15, and sent off to my husband's &nbsp;village in Jhapa.For someone raised in freedom and comfort, being a daughter-in-law in a conservative household was challenging. Wearing a kurta or speaking to neighbours was frowned upon. As a buhari daughter-in-law, I was kept out of any family decision-making. My day would start at 3AM and I was busy throughout with non-stop household work. By 17, I had my first child, and later two more.&nbsp; The family I was married to was well off in terms of property, but was consistently cash-strapped. It was a weird reality, we were poor and struggling to make ends meet while sitting on large tracts of land. I relied often on my maternal family for financial support. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310060340_de400c76a82b6af0f8a764f6963c1bc5a0b8a8bf0348bf3426e7ef684317e48c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230310060340_de400c76a82b6af0f8a764f6963c1bc5a0b8a8bf0348bf3426e7ef684317e48c" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="DD 26"> </figure>  I felt the real pain of being cash poor when my eldest daughter, a special needs child, passed away at a young age. This was the pre-mobile era and my mother-in-law was traveling in Pokhara. Not having the money to pay for her last rites, I left my daughters body in the verandah and ran to a shop to sell my jewelry. I will never forget this moment. This must have inculcated in me a desire to work for money. But what work would I do in Nepal with no education? My expenses were rising as my other two children were growing up. The everyday struggle to earn enough to pay for basics was frustrating. So I decided to try for overseas employment and managed to collect enough money with the help of my family, and by selling the remaining jewelry paid for a job in Israel as a caregiver. At that time, migration to Israel was not as well managed as it is now under the government program. The manpower agencies facilitated the recruitment based on how much you paid them. I was probably one of the few migrants who did not cry at the airport. What I was doing was for my children’s secure future, I did not have a choice but to be strong. I felt more comfortable leaving my children with my mother in Dharan. As a lahure child, I had visited the UK but did not have much memory of it. So Israel as an adult was fascinating. Even little things like rotating the shower handle to get hot or cold water was new and amusing. I was placed in a wonderful family. The elderly lady I took care of was in her 80s, and kept reminding me how I was like a daughter she had never had. She had four sons. I found a guardian’s love with her. Compared to the household work I was doing back in Jhapa, the job in Israel actually felt easier because my boju was elderly and needed rest. My day started only at 7 and by 12, she would need a four hour nap, and by 7PM in the evening, she would call it a day. I had to cook only once every three days because the family had a system of freezing food. &nbsp;Not only was the work relatively easy, I was getting paid up to $1,200 a month. My Israeli boju used to tell me how I was her 15th caregiver, and the only one with whom she was able to develop a rapport and feel comfortable with. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310060316_e71c12fad0d7d91fbd557d98d8e026093a0b8570faa489959f4260f701b714ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230310060316_e71c12fad0d7d91fbd557d98d8e026093a0b8570faa489959f4260f701b714ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="481" loading="lazy" alt="Caring for her own and others NT"> <figcaption>My Israeli boju who was like family for 5 years.</figcaption> </figure>  The only downside was that I was home all the time and seldom went anywhere, and only hung out with two other Nepalis in the community. Tel Aviv was 90 minutes away and I did not feel like travelling even though I had family there. Other than finances, there was not much I picked up in Israel. Boju often pleaded with me not to leave Israel until she died. I did not have a reason to go back, I was sending money home and I was happy in the family. I naturally got close to her and we had personal conversations. She knew her end was close, and would often express how she feared dying in pain and instead wanted to die peacefully in her sleep. One morning, when boju did not ask me for water at 7 as she usually did, I knew something was wrong. She was quiet and non-responsive. By the time we called the ambulance and her family, she had passed, peacefully, just like she had wanted. I mourned the loss of a guardian, and not just as an employee. Such is the work of a caregiver. The seniors die. Babies grow up. But both are people in such vulnerable ages that it is very easy to get personally attached to them. Having spent more than five years with boju in Israel, I did not know what was next. I had crossed the period when I could legally change jobs and I did not want to return home as I had to take care of my children. So in 2011, I did what someone in my position without a choice does. I carried on as an undocumented worker, knowing the risks. I found a good family. But Israeli authorities soon found out that I was breaking the rules, and came to the house knocking loudly at the door when my employers were away. Hiding or escaping was not an option as it felt like they were going to break down the door. They helped me pack and took me to a detention centre. Ten days later, I was escorted by them right up to the plane and sent home. While I was in detention, my boju’s grandson came to see me. He told authorities that I was like family and he would send me home in dignity, but that he didn’t want my last memory in Israel to be bitter. The authorities refused, but treated me well. I would be banned from Israel, and if I visit again it can only be as a tourist. Back in Nepal, it was impossible for me to stay idle. I had got too used to earning money. I thought of Korea next and started studying for the exam. But given the uncertainty, I came to Turkey instead through a manpower agency. I had to pay Rs400,000 for the job which only paid €350 a month. This was much lower than what I was earning in Israel, but what choice did I have? Over the years, my salary has increased and I now make €1,200 a month, taking care of two babies. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310060316_054c7febbc74f8311266156aa20395d22ddbf4d986747e460fc2b66b38ae9de5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230310060316_054c7febbc74f8311266156aa20395d22ddbf4d986747e460fc2b66b38ae9de5" data-rendition-name="original" width="753" height="879" loading="lazy" alt="Caring for her own and others NT"> </figure>  Since 2017, Turkey has seen more Nepalis, and we have organised ourselves better. I am now Vice President of the NRNA Turkey and during times of crisis like the recent earthquake, we rally together to support those affected. We provided support to Nepali students, although they were not injured their hostels were deemed unsafe to live in and were kept in shelters. We sent them as well as other Turkish people affected by the earthquake some financial support. We got contributions from all over the world including from my friend, a Nepali caregiver I met and became close with in Israel, who is now in the US. My daughter became a registered nurse in Australia a few months back. I am proud of her and also of myself because the odds were really stacked against us. I, too, was a class topper back in Dharan, but life had different plans for me. I paid for my daughter’ expenses growing up, including her studies in Australia. I brought my son to Turkey as he needed more parental guidance. I hope my story reminds other women how much we are capable of, if we trust ourselves. The adversaries I have faced as a woman and a mother in Nepal’s patriarchal society is by no means unique. If I had not taken a few bold decisions for the well-being of my children or rebelled against societal expectations, our reality probably would have been different. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310060316_a1b9423bb9d9cb0f4c681f773ce9f7be2f29ebf582472b36355fe59b122a3970.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230310060316_a1b9423bb9d9cb0f4c681f773ce9f7be2f29ebf582472b36355fe59b122a3970" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Caring for her own and others NT"> </figure>  I have been lucky with the employers I have been placed with both in Turkey and Israel. Not all fellow Nepalis in other parts of the world are as fortunate. Even then, being a foreigner always makes you a second class citizen, with many rights inaccessible and more importantly, you are under the control of the employer with whom your immigration status is tied. I found out that in Turkey you can apply for citizenship after working for five years. I now hold a Turkish passport, perhaps the first Nepali caregiver who has transitioned here. I went that route because a documentation status, can free you from being under another person’s control and change your reality, and your sense of freedom and control. My dream is to eventually open a Nepali restaurant in Turkey, primarily targeting Nepali caregivers but also to promote Nepali food among locals. I remember when I first came to Turkey, my employers never had rice. There was chicken, bread, vegetables and cheese, but no dal bhat. After a few weeks, I asked her if we could have rice and she was taken by surprise because she had been feeding me well, what her family ate. For my employer, rice was both unhealthy and relatively more expensive. But she did some online research and realised Nepalis need dal bhat and started providing it. For Nepalis missing dal bhat in Turkey like I did, the restaurant that I want to start will hopefully bring home a little closer. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf/"> For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Caring for her own and others

After the Nepal government announced it would provide Rs15 per meal for community schools to serve lunch (दिवा खाजा) to students, headmasters in Kathmandu took a stand. “Rs15 is not sufficient, we demanded additional money. The municipality also realised that Rs15 was not enough,” says Dilli Prasad Sharma Khanal, principal at Vijaya Memorial Secondary School in Dillibazar. Last year, Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) responded by topping up the Rs15 with another Rs10, and also said it would provide the full Rs25 to feed students in Grades 7 and 8 in its 89 community schools. The central government program provides meals to Grade 6 only. The total cost to Kathmandu is Rs90 million in the current year’s budget, says Rukmila Itani in the city’s education office. KMC joins <a href="https://nepalnow.buzzsprout.com/1839347/10597081" target="_blank">Tokha and Budhanilkantha</a> as local governments in Kathmandu Valley that have concluded that the central government’s funding is insufficient to feed students a nutritious meal. While other local governments outside the valley have done the same, the move raises the question of equity for those students whose meals remain limited to Rs15, an amount roundly criticised as inadequate to cook a filling and nutritious meal. According to a <a href="https://www.setopati.com/opinion/295042" target="_blank">report in Setopati</a>, Beg Bahadur Thapa, headmaster of Palanchoki Bhagwati Secondary School in Kavre, turned to local organisations after the school decided that Rs15 could not provide an adequate meal. He collected enough to add Rs5 to each meal. “Even with Rs20, it was not possible to provide a balanced lunch as per the instructions,” said Thapa. Other needed resources were also missing. “The school lacks classrooms, there is no space to manage the kitchen. The role of school helper is also varied.” In the end, the school bought meals prepared outside the school.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310030352_9e39f506b053ae5a426c98bded1f58cb850acc4183139d13ab80b852d4daf72d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230310030352_9e39f506b053ae5a426c98bded1f58cb850acc4183139d13ab80b852d4daf72d" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali students get a second helping"><figcaption>The midday meal at Vijaya Memorial Secondary School in Dillibazar, Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>  It is no surprise that some schools are ‘topping up’ their meal budgets. In 2022 the Nepal government official leading the program <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/growing-appetite-for-school-lunches/" target="_blank">told Nepali Times</a> that funding was his greatest challenge. The bill for school meals was nearly $70 million in 2020, the highest cost in the education budget after teachers’ salaries. “Each child is allotted only Rs15, this is the main challenge. This amount is very low—prices are increasing day by day and there are management costs. How can we survive?” said Centre for Education and Human Resources Development (CEHRD) Director Ganesh Poudel. The World Food Programme (WFP) has been providing food for Nepal schools in various forms for 46 years, and has partnered with the Nepal Government as the latter has gradually assumed control of the programme in the last decade. From 2017 to 2020 the diya khaja budget almost quadrupled (from US$20 million to nearly $70 million), and external support fell from $4.2 million to $2.8 million in 2020, according to a WFP report. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/growing-appetite-for-school-lunches/" target="_blank">In a 2022 interview</a> WFP Representative and Country Director Robert Kasca said participation of communities in school feeding will be essential as WFP transitions from being a provider of food to focusing on technical assistance, by 2024. “The most important thing to me is that we get complete buy-in from the local communities… they (local representatives) do have money, it’s not that they don’t have it. It’s how they allocate and spend it. Itani says that KMC decided to top up the government’s meal budget to address malnutrition and a high drop-out rate in community schools. KMC has a system for checking the quality of the meals, and cleanliness, she adds, but with the programme barely six months old, data is scarce. Early feedback is that attendance is up, but schools are grappling with a lack of resources such as kitchens, utensils and designated staff. Some are able to prepare meals in an existing kitchen or turn to mothers groups for help while other schools buy from outside providers. And while some schools are following the central government’s menu, which calculates amounts of energy, fat, protein and essential vitamins so that meals deliver 30% of a child’s daily nutrition needs, others do not.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310030356_fd63ed373d66c846c9eb15bf641c89d3f90ede9d8470a9d07d64d68f41ae7ca5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230310030356_fd63ed373d66c846c9eb15bf641c89d3f90ede9d8470a9d07d64d68f41ae7ca5" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali students get a second helping"></figure>  At Harisiddhi Secondary School in Lalitpur, Principal Aasha Devi Maharjan says the municipality has pledged to top up the central government’s Rs15 per meal, but has not done so to date. However, the school is now feeding students up to Grade 6 meals that cost more than Rs50 thanks to funding from the China Foundation for Rural Development. The foundation’s Smiling Children Feeding Programme started in March 2022 and research prior to the programme’s launch found that many students of community schools come from families of daily wage earners, who often start work early. As a result, many children are given Rs10-20 in the morning to buy food instead of eating a cooked meal, says Mukti Marasini, Chairman of the Global Cooperation for Development (GCD), an NGO working with the foundation. The feeding program provides Rs57.3 per meal to 21 schools in Lalitpur and Kathmandu, including Rs7.3 to create and fund mothers groups, which cook the midday meals. Schools combine the China Foundation money with the central government’s allotment, Marasini adds during a visit to Harisiddhi school, and can even serve second helpings to extra hungry kids. Marasini says GCD worked with nutritionists to determine the amount needed to provide an adequate meal. “Rs15 won’t even buy a cup of tea,” he says about the government allotment. Students get a different menu each day, such as egg with a bean-vegetable curry and puri on the day we visited. They also receive a fruit snack in the morning. Maharjan says that since they started serving the meals in August, far fewer students complain of illnesses or are absent.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230310030356_5ec42aa9-40ed-4010-9790-d3c7a68b6350.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230310030356_5ec42aa9-40ed-4010-9790-d3c7a68b6350" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="4032" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali students get a second helping"><figcaption>Mothers Group members prepare the midday meal at Shree Harisiddhi Senior Secondary School in Lalitpur.</figcaption></figure>  “Once word got out about the school’s meals more than 100 families approached us to enrol their children but we had to say no,” she adds. “It was the middle of the year and we wouldn’t have had the budget to feed an extra 100 students.” The central government worked with WFP to develop the Rs15 meal, but the amount is being revisited, says the UN agency. “We are working closely with our government counterparts to understand the details of how much the Rs15 actually buy, in particular in the context of recent inflation trends and in rural areas.” “Early indications do show that the transfer values should be reviewed as the situation has changed since these values were first determined in 2015. Ultimately we advocate for an equitable approach that ensures a nutritious meal,” added WFP. Ganesh Poudel from CEHRD was unavailable for comment. Thursday, 9 March is International School Meals Day. Worldwide, 388 million students, or 1 in 2 schoolchildren, received at least one meal or snack per day at school before the COVID-19 pandemic, in what WFP calls the world’s “<a href="https://www.wfp.org/publications/state-school-feeding-worldwide-2020" target="_blank">most extensive social safety net</a>.”

Marty Logan

Nepali students get a second helping

This is the 25th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/here-now/diaspora-diaries/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.&nbsp; I am 70 years old, and finally got to travel to the UAE where two of my sons live. It was multiple firsts: the first time I left the country, the first time I got on a plane, and more importantly, it was the first time I saw what my sons, Krishna and Ram, had been describing to me for the last decades that they have been working overseas. We struggled to raise our children amidst poverty and hardship to ensure they got a good education, which was not easy. From dawn to dusk my husband and I looked for ways to ensure they were well fed and educated, while taking care of the livestock and farming.&nbsp; I did not have enough money to run a shop so I sold tidbits like chocolates, biscuits, cigarettes and bidi on a box by the wayside. Even this makeshift shop had its fair share of local customers in the village.&nbsp; When Krishna, my eldest, finished Grade 12, he decided to go abroad for employment. Not many people had left our village for overseas work in those days, unlike now when every house has someone abroad.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_419a84eb70a4d3131f66fbad99bd9a7a486242bc9bc2ddc73e6ca2b5e3279b9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230308060348_419a84eb70a4d3131f66fbad99bd9a7a486242bc9bc2ddc73e6ca2b5e3279b9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 2"> </figure>  We were worried about sending him away, but he was determined to go. The only consolation was that we had a family member in the UAE who had helped Krishna secure his job, and would be there in case he needed support. Even then, we all wept when he left home, not knowing what to expect.&nbsp; He wrote us letters every month or so, and there was much relief when they arrived. My family members used to read out those letters to me and respond on my behalf. One message in Krishna's letters to us was not to &nbsp;compromise on the education of his siblings, like he had to.&nbsp; Ever since he went to the UAE 21 years ago, as the eldest son he had taken up the role of being the guardian of my children. Despite being young himself, he provided financial support for the family back in Nepal and ensured that his siblings had a good education. Fortunately, my children did not squander this opportunity and have done well for themselves.&nbsp; Even though Krishna sent us letters, it was only two years after he left that I first got to hear his voice. The shop with the phone was three hours away from our house, and I had to walk there to speak with him. The minute I heard his familiar voice, I choked and could not utter a single word. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060344_2b7622565be48a5407fbb4a4bfad30eff8cdd684bd788ab58bf296c1890f04d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230308060344_2b7622565be48a5407fbb4a4bfad30eff8cdd684bd788ab58bf296c1890f04d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="719" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 1"> </figure>  It was overwhelming and it felt like my son's voice was coming from a vacuum. The following year, he came home to visit for the first time. Since then, his trips have become more frequent.&nbsp; But this time, it was my turn to visit him in the UAE. My husband and I finally got to witness where two of my sons live. My youngest son Govinda, who is now in Nepal, is also a UAE returnee who after spending a few months there, quickly realised that if he was to progress like his brothers have in the UAE, he should first complete his studies so he returned mid-contract. I had seen the UAE through pictures and videos my sons showed me. But experiencing the place myself was completely different. The buildings are really tall, and the roads are wide. Everything is systematic.&nbsp; I especially liked how they treated my husband and me with respect in public places. We were not expected to wait in lines, for example. In Nepal, elderly people do not receive the same kind of respect.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_764ba063a4dd78891e9313833c53488cde096dd112fcf5926caab0bf0a3811a2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230308060348_764ba063a4dd78891e9313833c53488cde096dd112fcf5926caab0bf0a3811a2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 3"> </figure>  &nbsp;Despite their busy schedules, my sons pampered us in the UAE for an entire month and showed us around. Even then, Krishna complains that he did not manage to take us to a couple of places he had planned because of time. I especially liked the tall aquarium and the botanical garden. We met many other Nepalis, I have lost count how many. There were at least a dozen from our own village who made it a point to come and see us. The person who drove us around was also from Arghakhanchi.&nbsp; Many of the Nepalis we met, reminded us just how lucky we were to be in the UAE. There are many Nepalis there, but not all parents have the luxury to visit their children.&nbsp; The Nepalis we met showered us with love and attention. One girl, in particular, who had lost her mother a few months back cried saying we reminded her of her parents, and that she missed them terribly. &nbsp;As we consoled her and gave her our blessings, we too could not stop our own tears.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf/"> For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_09a945d0b8a91141d6a7355daf8ea087743fe52f3e0d58b093acc470101f4680.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230308060348_09a945d0b8a91141d6a7355daf8ea087743fe52f3e0d58b093acc470101f4680" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 4"> </figure>  There were many moments like this when we felt emotional in the UAE. After all, it is a country in which my sons spent significant periods of their lives.&nbsp; One such moment was visiting Krishna's office, a travel company that he recently started in the UAE. At the office, they welcomed us with bouquets and sacred खादा scarfs. It is his perseverance that has brought him so far.&nbsp; He started small as an office boy 17 years ago and worked his way up, supporting &nbsp;his parents and siblings on his back as he rose. I could not have been prouder. What more can a mother ask?&nbsp; The month in the UAE went by quickly and I have come back bearing gifts for my grandchildren. I tell them we will visit my sons again “बाँचियो भने” (if we are still alive). Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060352_714abdde7300a7d866c96050d869b77f281e0865ce049344975de509633fe467.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230308060352_714abdde7300a7d866c96050d869b77f281e0865ce049344975de509633fe467" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 5"> </figure>  Because we were not used to travelling, Ram had come to Nepal to escort us to the UAE, and Krishna came back with us to Kathmandu. He will spend a few weeks with us, and this will make the separation somewhat easier.&nbsp; I have six children and ten grandchildren but such is life that other than during festival times, we do not get to see everyone. As they say, “छोरीहरु अर्काको घर जाने जात, छोराहरु कमाउन जाने जात” (the daughters get married and move out, the sons get jobs and move out). &nbsp; Because of my sons, we now live in a पक्की house in Butwal, very different from our thatch-roof home in the village which had खरको छानो and later a tin roof. Our home in the village is now empty. We go there once a year during festivals, when the abandoned house comes to life temporarily as we fill it with laughter, भैलो music and singing.&nbsp; Krishna refuses to let me sell the village house even though it is locked up most of the year. He does not want to give up the clan home where he was born and raised. There is too much emotional attachment.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cut-from-a-different-cloth/">Cut from a different cloth</a> Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

A mother's sons

When Pratibha Rajbhandari worked with small business owners in New York as an MBA student, she had no idea that in some years, she would be applying what she learned to help Nepali women back home start their own businesses. Rajbhandari had a Bachelor’s degree in Finance, and first worked at a hedge fund in New Jersey after which she joined the MBA program at New York’s Pace University. There, she joined the university’s Small Business Development Center as an adviser.&nbsp; “The plan, since the very beginning, was to return to Nepal,” says Rajbhandari. “I realised that my role in working with and helping small businesses was really inspiring and fulfilling, and I had found my true calling.” Rajbhandari returned to Nepal, and between 2014 and 2017 worked with the Pashmina Enhancement and Trade Support (PETS) Project to promote handmade woolen products in the global market. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet In 2018, she joined the Nepal Agribusiness Innovation Centre (NABIC) – a ‘for purpose’ enterprise support organisation that provides business development services to agri-entrepreneurship start-ups across Nepal – as an Agribusiness Development Consultant. In July 2022, she took over as NABIC’s CEO, and since then, the organisation’s day-to-day operations have been fully managed by a team of women. NABIC was established in April 2017 with seed funding from the government’s Project for Agriculture Commercialisation and Trade (PACT) and the World Bank. Six years later, it has become self-reliant – with revenue primarily from providing consulting services to implementing agencies.. "NABIC is a company not distributing profit, with the social objective of promoting entrepreneurship,” explains Rajbhandari. “The benchmark of our success is based on how much our clients have grown and what impact they have made in the community." Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nurture-in-her-nature/">Nurture in her nature</a>, Babita Shrestha NABIC has provided business incubation and acceleration to 741 enterprises, trained more than 2,400 agri-entrepreneurs, and developed more than 1,300 business plans. It has enabled access to finance worth Rs6.7 billion to agri-business enterprises. &nbsp; Rajbhandari notes that at present, Nepal’s agri-businesses are quite participatory when it comes to the involvement of women.. “There are quite a few female entrepreneurs in Nepal especially because many jobs, such as pickle- making at home for instance, are works that women are already involved in, explains Rajbhandari." But producing food items is the least of the challenges. The concentration of women in agri-business might be relatively high, but there are so many other aspects to running a business, and a lack of knowledge is what stops them from taking off, even though these challenges are not gender-specific. Rajbhandari adds that women have more freedom when they are given the opportunity to take charge. She says: “Owning their own business makes women in charge of their own lives and gives us the flexibility to choose what we can prioritise in our lives.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-women-connecting-nepal/">The women connecting Nepal</a>, Sahina Shrestha <h2>Organic Online​</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230306140320_5a9ed91ee47a7ad3ecc3f039dbac293be8dbaf99c3ca5a1333e0a905f6961692.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230306140320_5a9ed91ee47a7ad3ecc3f039dbac293be8dbaf99c3ca5a1333e0a905f6961692" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Organic Online"> <figcaption>Photo courtesy: GAUTAM GURUNG</figcaption> </figure>  Srijana Pradhan took a sabbatical from her job in the private sector after she got married and had her baby. But she had always wanted to go back to work. &nbsp;“I began to feel like being a homemaker wasn’t enough—but even when I worked in the private sector, I had always felt unfulfilled, like something was missing,” she says. Three years after having her child, Pradhan along with three friends started an agri-business enterprise, but running it independently was easier said than done. The four partners had differences of opinion, and went their separate ways a year later. But Pradhan did not give up. She and her former business partner, Gautam Gurung, decided to give it another go, forming Organic Online-- an online platform that sells and delivers agricultural products made in Nepal-- in 2018, despite their family’s misgivings. Given their previous experience they knew they would need a lot of guidance this time around. Shortly after they set up their business with a simple website and a team of four, Gurung came across an announcement of a World Bank-supported project called Enhancing Access to Business Incubation Service for Agri-Entrepreneurs in Nepal, which NABIC was part of. NABIC’s incubation client was Organic Online for which it provided packaged mentorship that guided the fledgling business in marketing and branding, accounting, finance, as well as regulatory requirements. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/light-of-the-absurd/">Light of the absurd</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar Organic Online used to sell more than 150 products before, they were able to streamline supply to get their products from established and trustworthy suppliers. They worked with NABIC to tweak their product packaging to strengthen branding. “We had not known what the vision for our business was, and working with NABIC helped us figure out where we wanted to go, and what kind of business we wanted to be in the next five years,” says Pradhan. “We realised that we could not sell whatever appealed to us.” Organic Online currently sells and delivers its flagship products— child superfood (bal aahar) for children aged six months to three years, a fiber diet for adults, as well as hair care products including a hair mask, hair oil, and hair healer. It also sells external products, including rice, essential oils, ghee from Ilam, and sakkhar from Kaiplvastu . 85% of the items are self-produced either at its offices in Panipokhari or at a site that Pradhan oversees in Narayanthan. In five years, the company has expanded from four people to a team of 28, of which 80% are women. Pradhan says that the environment for women to become small business owners is positive, especially since the government, as well as private sector projects, have gender-specific participatory requirements.&nbsp; “Our social structure is such that women have added roles in their personal lives which have to work out for us to be independent and successful professionally,” says Pradhan. “Women in the workforce have more responsibilities in their families than our male counterparts, so we have to work twice as hard. We have to be stronger.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-care-economy/">Nepal's care economy</a>, Bina Pradhan

Shristi Karki

Feminising farm-based firms

Spring is in the air. On Holi on 6 and 7 March, people <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15745#.ZAVIuC8w1KM" target="_blank">shower each other with coloured water</a> and paint faces with pigment.&nbsp; <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/holi-day/">Holi</a> is fun, flirtatious, and philosophical: marking the passing of seasons and the material world, and new beginnings.&nbsp; In the week leading up to Holi, the Manandhars of Kathmandu have erected a tall chir bamboo pole outside Hanuman Dhoka Palace. From the three circular pagoda-like tiers at the top hang multi-coloured fabric which flows out in the breeze.&nbsp; Inspired by the famous episode from Krishna-lila when the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/my-sweet-lord/" target="_blank">young god-child</a> steals clothes from gopini bathing nearby and hangs them up on a tree above, the chir is a symbolic representation of the arrival of spring.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230306030312_6c28db5650c536da4189225a773e5c3d923fc996ab3917999367fd785262828c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230306030312_6c28db5650c536da4189225a773e5c3d923fc996ab3917999367fd785262828c" data-rendition-name="original" width="918" height="612" loading="lazy" alt="Unholi colours NT 2"> </figure>  This is a teaser for the revelry at Holi (also called<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/celebrating-phagu-purnima/" target="_blank"> Fagu Purnima</a>) on Monday and Tuesday. Yet, the irony is that this celebration of nature in all its hues is not natural because of the increasing use of synthetic dyes, most of which are toxic.&nbsp; Artist Lok Chitrakar recalls that as a child, he and his friends would heat up lalchhap ink into a balloon-like shape and fill it with abir and perfume to throw at each other at Holi. “Those colours were natural, but today the red powder stains hands for days, like a chemical dye,” says Chitrakar, who uses mostly natural pigment for his elaborate <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/sacred-survival/">paubha</a> paintings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230306030312_56e0edd458d211e1dcc217c1ec6c1c2c3614382f058e445df2f6b731354609e8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230306030312_56e0edd458d211e1dcc217c1ec6c1c2c3614382f058e445df2f6b731354609e8" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="Unholi colours NT 3"> </figure>  Traditional colours are either plant-based or from naturally occurring minerals. Red came from sandalwood (rakta chandan), pomegranates, or dried rose and hibiscus flowers. Henna, pine needles or spinach leaves were used to make green. Yellow was made from dried turmeric, blue from indigo and beetroot gave purple.&nbsp; This is no longer the case. Most natural, organic colours have a shorter shelf-life and may not be as vibrant as synthetic dyes which are imported from India. Chemical powders have a smoother feel, look rich and intense, and are also cheaper to produce. The colours are dissolved in engine oil to turn them into paste. Colours used in Holi contain many harmful chemicals like lead (Pb), chromium (Cr), cadmium (Cd) and even mercury (Hg), says environmental scientist Ram Charitra Sah at the Centre for Public Health and Environmental Development (CEPHED).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230306030312_905d98af6347a6c20782f645d27d12f53ab481e0655cf0d3f22f17fd7eedac44.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230306030312_905d98af6347a6c20782f645d27d12f53ab481e0655cf0d3f22f17fd7eedac44" data-rendition-name="original" width="1069" height="715" loading="lazy" alt="Unholi colours table NT"> </figure>  “Today, dry powdered abir is not organic, researchers have detected nickel, copper, silica, mica granules or ground glass, and asbestos,” Sah explains. &nbsp;A 2016 research published in Journal of Occupational Medicine and Toxicology analysed four powders used in Holi and found that more than 40% of the particles had diameters less than 10μm (PM10) linking them to respiratory illnesses. Research in India, where most of the colour powders found in Nepal come from, have detected a range of toxic chemicals used to make colours used during Holi and other puja rituals.&nbsp; The health risk increases when the colours are mixed with oil and other fluids to be applied to the skin, and is especially bad in the case of spray and enamel-based face paints used during Holi. The metallic silver and gold paint that give people an otherworldly look contain excessive amounts of lead and glass.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230306030312_a8b1b1c2deed22f31958e6316dbc9a66e24500e859e051c581c4ba469a60785c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230306030312_a8b1b1c2deed22f31958e6316dbc9a66e24500e859e051c581c4ba469a60785c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Unholi colours NT 4"> </figure>  “Lead affects people of all ages, but it is especially harmful to children,” cautions Sah. “Just 5μg per 2 decilitres can affect a child’s physical and intellectual development, their growth, sight and hearing.” The Nepal government in 2015 set the maximum amount of lead allowed in colours and paints at 90 ppm (parts per million). But a 2021 study by CEPHED looked into 62 enamel paints currently sold in Nepal, and found that at least 30 of them contained more than the prescribed amount of lead.&nbsp; CEPHED also investigated 21 brands of spray paints in shops in Nepal, and while only seven of them showed more than the prescribed lead content, the rest ranged from 751 to 15,618 ppm.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230306030312_e684392b0a54c589b8df5d5b2e8afd7c84ef2889f416f28564e1f69a1aa6aa16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20230306030312_e684392b0a54c589b8df5d5b2e8afd7c84ef2889f416f28564e1f69a1aa6aa16" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Unholi colours NT 5"> </figure>  Sah says it is urgent for the government to enforce its regulation and raise public awareness — especially at festival time when the colours are profusely used.&nbsp; <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/fagu-purnima-in-birgunj/" target="_blank">Holi can be celebrated</a> safely and responsibly by not allowing synthetic colours to be used, wearing long sleeves, and masking up. But this just reduces the risk, and does not eliminate it.&nbsp; In case of exposure to the eyes, Sah advises rinsing immediately with clean water. Other tips: apply oil to hair and moisturise skin before going out at Holi. Use mild soap to wash off the colours afterwards, but do not use kerosene or petrol. Enjoy Holi on Monday and Tuesday, but remember that the colourful fun can also be harmful to your health. &nbsp;

thumbnail

viewImage

Un-Holi Colours

Growing up in Jhapa, Sabita Giri often had to cross over to India with her family to buy daily goods and essentials. On one such trip, she overheard some people talking about how the bridge across the Mechi River was “dying”.&nbsp; As a sixth grader, she wondered what made bridges “die”. It was only when she came to Kathmandu for higher studies and became a civil engineer that she realised that bridges indeed have a life expectancy. Today, Giri is among 21 trainee engineers working on the Motorable Local Roads Bridge (MLRB) Program that aims to connect Nepal’s roads with bridges across the country’s mainly north-south rivers. “When I was young, all I knew as a career choice was completing a PhD and working as a teacher. Becoming a civil engineer has opened a whole host of possibilities,” says Giri, who is stationed at MLRB in Hetauda. An average rural road in Nepal needs a bridge across a river every 15km, and this is not counting culverts and drainage overpasses. Although there are now roads almost everywhere, the lack of bridges means large parts of the country are inaccessible during the monsoon. Giri and her colleagues provide the much-needed technical expertise to design and construct safer, more accessible bridges throughout Nepal. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/bridging-the-gap-in-nepal/"> Bridging the gap in Nepal</a>, Amit Machamasi  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230304050340_2633ab30e9044836e94a86efd9be38257bb921ac56168d80b6e3e75d17c3df1c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230304050340_2633ab30e9044836e94a86efd9be38257bb921ac56168d80b6e3e75d17c3df1c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="719" loading="lazy" alt="Women Engineers 1"> <figcaption>Photo: SDC(Photo: Photo: SDC)</figcaption> </figure>  Over the last two decades, the government worked on expanding both the Local Road Network (LRN) and Strategic Road Network (SRN). These have now been reclassified as national highways, provincial highways and local roads by Constitution of Nepal 2015. While most national highways are now all-weather, provincial highways and local roads remain largely unpaved and are fair-weather. The Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation (SDC) initiated MLRB program in 2011 in response to a request from the Nepal government, and it is a logical extension of Swiss technical assistance in designing and building nearly 10,000 trail bridges across Nepal since the 1970s. After 2015, national highways fell under the purview of the federal government while many of the 25,728km roads previously identified as district roads were the responsibility of provincial governments. These provincial roads needed 1,720 bridges to make them all-weather, but the provinces lacked institutions, legal frameworks, and technical capacity to deliver. The government approached the Swiss, and the initiative continued.SDC had started an internship program for female civil engineers in 2008, with six women engineers recruited in the first cohort to work in the District Road Support Program (DSRP).&nbsp; This internship program has continued and grown since with women engineers working on various infrastructure projects across the country. “During the nine-month traineeship, engineers learn and are involved in a whole cycle of bridge building: survey, design, investigation and construction,” explains Aman Jonchhe at SDC. For the first month, the engineers are trained in technical aspects, designs as well as constitutional provisions and management skills. Then they gain first-hand experience working on trail bridges as well as motorable bridges.&nbsp; This year, 31 female civil engineers have been enrolled in the traineeship program in Swiss-funded projects: 21 in motorable bridges and 10 in small-scale irrigation.&nbsp; So far, 82 women engineers have worked on various infrastructure programs including DSRP, MLRB and irrigation. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6703#.Y3ysxuxBzDJ">Bridge builders think nationally and act locally</a>, Hemlata Rai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230304050340_2b0074f7aec8f86922b7fc9e688a6ef306b50edfc5005fbc9db434433542b0de.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230304050340_2b0074f7aec8f86922b7fc9e688a6ef306b50edfc5005fbc9db434433542b0de" data-rendition-name="original" width="2592" height="1728" loading="lazy" alt="Swiss ambassador with women engineers"> <figcaption>Swiss Ambassador to Nepal Elisabeth von Capeller with trainee civil engineers building bridges across Nepal's seven provinces.(Photo: Photo: SDC)</figcaption> </figure>  “The best team must be as diverse as the society it works in. Diversity is proven to generate more innovative, creative, and inclusive decisions and better performing teams,” says Elisabeth von Capeller, the Swiss Ambassador to Nepal. “We need to change the mindset of society, challenge gender stereotypes, and do a better job of showing, supporting, and promoting diversity.” As of July 2019, with technical support from the MLRB program, the government constructed 358 motorable bridges, making an additional 4,895km of local roads accessible throughout the year. Says Ambassador von Capeller, “Attracting and supporting more women in engineering benefits everyone by increasing the potential to develop inclusive, innovative solutions for the complex problems the world is facing.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230304050340_892e3144871b721999678031b6f728dbea403fec1579ded510c7e20689a496d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230304050340_892e3144871b721999678031b6f728dbea403fec1579ded510c7e20689a496d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Women Engineers 2"> <figcaption>Photo: Bigyata Sitoula(Photo: Photo courtesy: Bigyata Sitoula)</figcaption> </figure>  Bigyata Sitoula (pictured above) was in the first cohort of trainee women engineers to work on the motorable local bridge program. She joined the traineeship in 2013 right after graduating with a degree in civil engineering and today heads the team in Karnali Province as Project Coordinator. Sitoula is from Tehrathum and is no stranger to the hardships posed by lack of access in the mountains. When she was young, a trip to her hometown from Kathmandu meant days of walking. The bus would take her family to Basantapur from where the district headquarters was a day’s trek. From there it took two more days of walking to reach her village of Chuhandanda. With a new road, the trip is much shorter today. Having motorable bridges contributes to better access to health, education, and economic opportunities, especially for women who often have to travel long distances to fetch water, firewood, or during childbirth and health emergencies, which can be life-threatening. In fact, the spread of Nepal’s road network has been a factor in bringing down the country’s maternal mortality rate dramatically through an increase in institutional deliveries. Although Bigyata Sitoula has not had the opportunity to work on bridges in her own Tehrathum, she has been to almost all the districts in Karnali Province designing and building bridges. One of her work trips took her to parts of Jajarkot, where the roads were yet to be connected via motorable bridges. “We had to cross a suspension trail bridge then change vehicles, then get off and cross another suspension bridge and then get on another vehicle numerous times during the entire trip,” says Sitoula. “It was one of the more challenging areas I have been to, and it showed the problems we faced.” Sitoula says her main motivation is the realisation of how much a bridge helps local people. In Jumla where a bridge joining the district to Mugu is under-construction, villagers crowded around her team to urge them to work faster. “They were excited about the possibilities of trade, shorter travel time and because the bridge would help women in their daily chores or to get to a health post,” says Sitoula. Read more: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Dolakha-rebuilding-bridges-after-quake,3702">Bridge builders</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230304050340_62de3f9f08818e3203e79601cb3876eb7a8823eba8d6406750f35ce38fce4fce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230304050340_62de3f9f08818e3203e79601cb3876eb7a8823eba8d6406750f35ce38fce4fce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="901" loading="lazy" alt="Women Engineers 3"> <figcaption>Photo: SDC(Photo: Photo: SDC)</figcaption> </figure>  There have been challenges. Some of it is geographical and some more socio-cultural. Female civil engineers have had to deal with the patriarchal mindset of local people and other stakeholders. “When I first started as a trainee, people were skeptical that a woman could be an engineer,” recalls Sitoula. “That attitude has changed to some extent, and I have now grown more confident in myself and my work. But even now, there are times when people are doubtful about my qualifications and experience just because I am a woman.” Nepal ranks among the countries with the lowest female representation in senior and middle management roles. According to the World Bank, in 2017, although the female labour force participation rate in Nepal was 78.7%, only 13.9% of women held jobs in management positions. “Maybe because the number of female civil engineers is still lower compared to men, the discrimination persists,” adds Sayara Bhujel, a civil engineer completing her traineeship in Bagmati Province. Women engineers also often have to deal with being undermined and ignored. Even when men in the same or similar position are addressed as ‘Sir’, women are called ‘Nani’ and ‘Baini.’ In the field, most queries are directed at the men, even if it is women leading the project. “There are times when contractors and labourers don’t take us seriously and resort to teasing us,” says Radha Yadav, who is also completing her traineeship in Hetauda. Some others have also had to deal with casteist remarks.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230304050340_f5e2293643f5529a143cb5c96188f37172ed41cc6566b902e04da8cee24eed23.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230304050340_f5e2293643f5529a143cb5c96188f37172ed41cc6566b902e04da8cee24eed23" data-rendition-name="original" width="4624" height="3468" loading="lazy" alt="Women Engineers 4"> <figcaption>Photo: Bigyata Sitoula(Photo: Photo: SDC)</figcaption> </figure>  Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4433#.Y3ysKexBzDI">Building bridges</a> But it is not just the professional environment where they face discrimination, it starts in college. “As a student, I had to speak up and asked to be included in lab work and other tasks like data recording, since boys were given more priority,” recalls another engineer, Nisha Lama. “Some teachers also discriminated against girls.” The female engineers we spoke with said they have taken all this in their stride, and have learnt to navigate, create, and claim spaces for themselves in the profession and society. When questioned about their technical designs or expertise, they all said they let their work speak for themselves. Says Bigyata Sitoula: “Being in a leadership position is a challenge and an opportunity to change the opinion of society and to create a safe space for the next generation of women coming into the workforce.” Coming from a community that does not usually give enough importance to the education of girl children, Radha Yadav believes she can serve as an example of what women can do if they are given equal opportunities. She says fair compensation for work and a good support system at home also help. “I am here because my father is a principal at a school and understood that girls have to be educated, and he encouraged me to realise my potential,” says Yadav. During one of her initial deployments in Surkhet, Sitoula got into an argument with a contractor when she pointed out that the plan for support work on an under construction bridge had problems. The design was eventually revised. “I could do that because my supervisor at the time gave me the authority to speak up,” she says. “The more representation we have in the workforce and the more people get used to seeing women in public spaces and professional environments, the easier it will become to gain the trust of the &nbsp;society.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nurture-in-her-nature/">Nurture in her nature</a>, Babita Shrestha