Forbidden from looking at the sun. Eating fruits. Combing their hair. Being at home. These are just a few of the things that some Nepali girls have to face every month when they are at their most physically and emotionally vulnerable: during their periods. This is the time that Hindu culture/tradition/customs, calls upon them to embrace being ‘untouchable’.
In this raw post , girls share their feelings and thoughts. It is nothing less than revolting.
“Mother loves me very much as well. However, during my menstruation cycle I am kept separately and have to eat at distance. When nobody touches me, I feel unloved. We need lots of love and support during our menstruation but, when I am separated and treated like an untouchable I feel no love from my mother and father and I feel only hatred. I feel sad being treated that way.”
With wistful eyes she looks at her Paris-born son.
I want him to have it easier than I did. I hope that he will never have to lose time like I did.
On a weekday in late April, I am walking through one of the plush theater neighborhoods of Paris, to the bottom of a slope cascading with posh restaurants. I am on the way to meet a friend I met for the first time at the residence of the Nepali Ambassador in Paris. It was after the earthquake of April 2015. Each of us in that room were hungry for an outlet for the anxiety and helplessness we collectively felt, guilty for our safety, scared for our loved ones. I remember the small piece of paper she carried in one hand, full of ideas she had on how to contribute. Despite frequent interruptions and requests to end the meeting quickly, she made sure that every item on that list was heard before the meeting could be adjourned. Her determination struck me even then. And instinct told me that there was something else brewing in Anita’s life.
And I was right. In February, she and her husband, Roman, opened a Nepali restaurant in this neighborhood. Like all upscale restaurants, it has adopted the French mantra of ‘less is more’, looking deceptively unassuming, highlighted only by a red awning. But like many places in Paris, it has its own set of secrets.
A hundred years ago, it was Auguste Renoir’s studio, before being converted in a massage salon, and then a restaurant that served food from all around the world where many artists and film castings took place. Now it has become something new again, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
The door opens to the smell of steaming momos. Nepali instrumental music flirts with me like the meandering streets of Thamel. I gaze at the hanging brass bells fitted here and there that I have seen adorn many a gumba and temple. I feel like I have come home. Even the sight of two boys darting through the small tables covered in bright red dhaka, their feet banging up and down the stairs until one of them, shouts, ‘I’m bored!’ in fluent french, is familiar.
Felix Wenzel, whose name means ‘glorious light’ in latin, is her son. The boy with him is his ‘third best friend’. They have been practicing a dance routine downstairs, in a little room facing the kitchen where his father delicately moulds minced chicken into the flesh of dough.
Behind the bar, on the main floor, a young woman with pink eyeshadow is washing up glasses and plates.
Would you like some tea?
Her petite frame dressed in a black dress, Anita could pass for a twenty-year old girl that is just finishing up her first degree, without a defined idea of what she wants. And she knows it.
People see me as a small lady and they think they can get away with things. The cooks that we hire, try to give me advice instead of listening to me. They think they know everything because they come with experience from working in Indian restaurants. But I want my restaurant to be a Nepali restaurant with Nepali taste!
I sit at the corner table, set against the wall, facing the stairway going up to the third floor next to a hanging prayer wheel. The checkered red dhaka tablecloth is gorgeous. As Anita sets down a cup of steaming Tulsi tea, she tells me how she sew one for each of the tables herself, with a sewing machine. Pointing to the black curtains bordered with red, she tells me she made those herself too, out of Newari saris. She turns to her restless son and his friend.
Why don’t you sit down and draw?
Felix sighs but obeys. We are about to begin.
Felix – a ray of light, of energy, of infectious smiles.
Or so I think. Until she she grabs the phone-I’m sorry I just need to speak to his – she points to the other boy – mom, to make sure she knows when to pick him up.
The boys convince her to let them use their ipads and computers. In resignation, she nods. And just like that, the whole mood changes, it becomes a haven of peace where her voice almost resonates as she speaks in Nepali. A few minutes later, putting the phone down, she switches to Newari, as her mother-in-law steps in, and she does the introductions between us. I find out they are all from Banepa, a town around 26 kilometers from Kathmandu.
So how did she become the president of this intimate palace?
Speaking to me in sprinkles of Nepali, English and French, she tells me how it all began.
A Way Out
Anita and Roman were neighbours in Banepa. In 2005, she had finished her Bachelors degree in computer science from Kathmandu university.
Everyday, for 3 to 5 years [since around 2001], there was a curfew. Because of that, everyone wanted to go abroad. People were targeting Thailand or the USA for their masters. My husband and I decided that we would go together wherever it was. The USA was very expensive and we could not pay the costs for that all at once. He told his family that he would leave but I didn’t tell mine because I was not sure we would be able to. We first went to Singapore. There, he took a course on Food and Beverages.
It was in Singapore that they met a broker who told them that Europe would be a good fit for them.
He said that we should go to Denmark and that he would give us a good price for it. We were very sojo, naive. We trusted him. He got us the ticket via India, upto France. I couldn’t read what was written on the papers he gave us, I think it was written in Sri Lankan. He told us that someone would pick us up in France and take us to Denmark. He came with us until the gate to see us off. As we got closer to the immigration counter, he said, ‘don’t talk to me’. He took our money and our passports. So when we got to France without our passports, we were stuck at the airport and when interrogated by the police, we tried to explain. After two days, the Red Cross came to see us. Through them, we were put in touch with the city police and realized that we could get political asylum as a result of what was happening in Nepal. When we came out of the airport, the organisation, France Terre d’Asile helped us get a permanent address.
But for three months, they did not have a fixed home, and were often separated.
I would often be in a female quarter somewhere. Sometimes, we slept on the chairs in the metro. But compared to Nepal, we felt safe. Noone was bothering us. He was with me and I felt secure.
In the evenings, they ate at the free soup kitchens that cater to the many who find themselves homeless in Paris, the restaurants du coeur.
After three months, the organisation charged with finding them a home, CADA, relocated them to a place in northeastern France, close to the borders of Germany and Luxembourg. They stayed in Metz for a year and a half.
We were the only Nepalis, surrounded by lots of Armenian refugees. We learned French by speaking to them, and the personel from CADA who invited us to celebrations. But the whole year, I spent all my days in the hospital. I had migraines and painful stomach aches. There was nothing to do there. Roman used to cook in between his visits to me everyday.
Although they were legalized rapidly, neither of them had the right to work. That is when they decided to come to Paris.
The momos are suddenly here, molded and steamed as fast as any restaurant in Kathmandu.
Please eat them while they are hot!
I oblige, musing at the contrast in culinary etiquette to Paris where everyone waits until everyone is served.
Anita’s wish is already realised. The taste cannot transport me anywhere but to Nepal. Fresh, hot, roundly plump, they taste just like momos at Nanglos Cafe. The chicken is succulent, the dough firm, the ginger and garlic perfectly apportioned.
She pours me a glass of white wine, pulling me back to France.
A Way In: Moving to Paris
Our first impression of Paris was that everyone was doing something. People were rushing to places. We decided to stay, sharing a room with a Nepali friend of ours who works as a carpenter. We stayed with him for two and a half years at La Courneuve [a suburb in the north east of Paris] until 2008.
Anita started working as a nanny. Roman got a job at a Japanese restaurant in the 17th arrondissement facilitated by the first president of the Non-Resident Nepalese Association, the NRN.
Without papers, the infamous titre de sejour, Anita could not get any other job. The French administration required her to have been in France for five years to apply for it. Her boss helped her continue her studies instead, and she completed her masters in marketing at one of France’s well-known business schools, INSEEC. But upon graduation, she could only work in places where employers were willing to declare they were hiring her, committing to pay a higher fees for it.
I asked them to do that if they liked my work.
And they did. So she did her rounds, in Nepali, Indian, Portuguese, Mexican, Creole restaurants…
Anita now has her Titre de Sejour. The hard lesson learned is this.
People should not waste time. Even a year. So much can be done in a year.
It is a feeling that her father-in-law echoes. For 25 years, he tells me that, he never closed his shop that sells TVs and watches. But this time he did, to come and visit Roman, Anita and Felix for two months, with his wife.
He reminds of my mother’s elder brother, my Thulo Mama, who carries the same delicate newari features. But it is more the rapid cadence of his speech and the way he calls me maiya, a term of endearment with no equivalent in any other language I know, that creates that feeling of familiarity. But unlike my mama, his Nepali is lilted with Newari, like a song, and he has an uncommon name for a Newar.
Hitler Sakya.
He smiles congenially in response to my irrepressible laughter. But contrary to my initial thought, it was not an ignorant assignment. He was given that name because his own father used to watch a lot of foreign films. For his father, this was the name of an important person, the man who wanted to be King of the World and who started World War II. It is a name he seems to have rebelled against, becoming a committed social worker with many an organisation. But it also served him well, getting him noticed opportunely, like this time he tells me about.
In the 1970s, the first toilets were to be installed in Banepa. The Nepali government was selling the materials for the building of toilets and I had filled out the requisite application to buy cement. There was a long queue in front of the building. When the staff saw ‘Hitler’ on the piece of paper, they laughed hysterically. The man in charge told me, don’t bother about standing in the queue, here is your cement!
But times have changed since then.
His eyes narrowed in concentration, Hitler-ji recounts 2005 as a time when Banepa was teeming with groups of Maoists. It was before the King at the time, Gyanendra assumed emergency powers to allegedly quell the Maoist rebellion that had been raging since 1996.
I learn that Anita and Roman fled from nothing less than terror.
Escaping Terror
Sometimes, people had to feed them [Maoist fighters] for seven days even when they could not sustain themselves. So many of them ran away.
We also went through that. They told me that that I didn’t give them money they would kill me. When they said that, I put my head down and told them, if you want to kill me, kill me in front of my daughter and son.
Once, Roman went to deliver some money. For three hours, I did not hear back from him. I panicked, thinking he was kidnapped. When he came home, I found out he had just gone to a friends’ house!
He puts his hand on the table, running them on the cloth. Roman is behind the counter clearing up the glasses. The two worlds together don’t seem to fit.
After that, we were left alone. Until they reappeared again, asking for lakhs of rupees. I followed the advice of one of my friends – and cut the phone lines with a pair of scissors. He shakes his head. We thought we would have some peace after that. But then 10 police officers were killed in broad daylight in the central part of town. All the shops closed. That is why Roman left.
I had a letter they had written to us, threatening to kill us. If only I had it, it would have helped my son get immediate asylum in France.
Building New Dreams
As I chew on the last momos slowly, Anita admits that this restaurant was not actually always a dream of hers, despite its name, ‘Nirvana Dream’*.
But I believe that one should take whatever opportunities one can. I was always working for others, and I wanted to try working for myself. I’ve learned it is easier to work for others because this is a lot of stress. But at the same time, one can learn lots of things.
The reference to opportunities and time also feels personal.
The hardest thing about being away from Nepal was not seeing her parents, her brother, and three sisters. Except for her and her small sister who is in the USA, everyone else has stayed back. When she went back in Nepal in 2013, her father had already passed away.
Everything had changed.
Everyone was involved in their own lives. I felt like I was just a visitor. All the kids I knew before had grown up.
But Anita is not looking back.
With her parents-in-law visiting, she tells me how proud she is that her son is able to seamlessly move from French to Nepali, charming everyone with his mischievous dimples like he did when he went back there the first time.
We pause. My gazar ka halwa is on the table, a golden orange, in a neat square, sprinkled with nuts. Its warm sweetness is like a hug. I can see my mother cooking it, in our home in Lazimpat, one small towel on her shoulder.
Gazar ka Halwa, set against deep red dhaka tablecloth.
The song Nepal ki chori hu ma, I’m Nepal’s daughter, is playing. I can envision too easily a girl with long tresses dancing in delight mouthing those words on a green hill. I wonder if Anita considers going back to Nepal permanently.
For me life is a journey. I don’t know where I’m going to be or where I’m going to go. But wherever that is Nepal and being Nepali is something that I hold in my heart.
Anita excuses herself, ‘ to go and practice with the children’ while Hitler-ji chats to me about what he believes Nepal needs.
People need to be taught. How to be clean. How to be good citizens from the time they are children. The problem in Nepal is that politicians should be like parents, teaching, guiding. But they are not. The country as we look at it now is just being filled with temples, one for each of our gods, taking up space. One god is good enough, no? Our country will not develop through the building of temples. We should follow what Buddha said, ‘don’t put me up somewhere, keep me in your mind.’
As we talk, more people come in pouring in. Children. Aunts. Mothers. I excuse myself, and proceed to the rounds of hugging, the customary two kisses on the cheek known as ‘la bise’, and naamasteeing.
I leave the restaurant, the door closing on more than three generations of francophones, francophiles, Nepalese, Nepalophiles, Newars, Newarophiles…
As I make my way past the top of the slope, I can’t help but feel this is the work of destiny, of its deft hands stitching our countries, our places, our past, present and futures together, just as delicately as Anita sewed the dhaka table clothes.
With nostalgia.
With love.
With hope.
Thank you Anita, Roman, Hitler-ji, Tirtha Sobha-ji and Felix for trusting me with your inspiring story. It has been a real pleasure and an honor to be able to listen in.
Anita in front of Nirvana Dream, after a long day of answering all my questions and dancing with the kids. What a woman!Hitler-ji and Tirtha Sobha-ji pose in front of Nirvana Dream.
Thank you also to Philippe Hainault, the Nirvana Dream Enterprise Loan Manager, for sharing the story of this beautiful establishment.
* Nirvana Dream is located at metro St Georges, 42 rue St Georges, 75009 Paris, France. Check it out and give your own reviews on Trip Advisor.
Lhakpa Sherpa has climbed Everest more than any other woman—and now she’s on the mountain trying for her seventh summit. So why doesn’t anyone know her name? Read more here.
Newly Wed – a website – offers advice on everything from wedding planning to family planning in an attempt to encourage the use of contraceptives. Check it out here.
When Ang Tharkay Sherpa reluctantly made the choice to become a mountaineer, he did not know his decision would have a lasting impact on his family, and Tintin fans worldwide. Read the rest of his story on the Record.
When I told people that I had decided to study in Beijing for my undergraduate degree, I received mixed responses, a majority of which were confused faces.
Why?
I realized that Beijing is an unpopular destination for Nepali students: it is little known and therefore to a large extent misunderstood.
It was my father who suggested I do my undergraduate degree in Beijing. Initially, I was horrified. I had found out that my major would be taught in Mandarin which meant that I would need to study it for a year. Soon after though I started to see the doors that this would open up for me. Whenever I walked the streets in Thamel, I saw new sign boards and restaurants written or translated in Chinese. In my Economics class, almost every chapter of my textbook used China as an example. The benefits of learning a new language and specifically Mandarin started to fascinate me and through my father’s encouragement, I eventually did apply and get accepted .
I started preparing for my departure. In Nepal, I took about a month and half of Mandarin lessons with a Chinese tourist guide. He was unemployed due to the earthquake. Every day, I had two hours of classes which started at 8 am. This was very useful because by the time I started my classes in Beijing, I already knew the basics. But while I started earlier, in Nepal I couldn’t practice outside of class; there was nobody else to speak with. Coming to Beijing therefore meant taking the plunge to practice all the time such as when asking for the price of vegetables, ordering French fries or using public transportation to get around the city.
And all of this worried me. It was an all too familiar challenge as a Nepali born outside of Nepal.
I was born in Thailand where I lived for about 12 years with English as my first language. According to my mother, I used to also be fluent in Thai because I spent the majority of my time with a Thai caretaker while my parents were at work. But when I joined preschool, I was strictly told to communicate in English and I soon forgot Thai. During that time, I did not speak Nepali.
In my class in Thailand, knowing one’s nationality was a great source of pride. When one of my friends came up to me asking how to write her name in Nepali, I hid with shame because I didn’t even know how to write my own name. It so happened that while I was thinking about learning Nepali, my aunt suggested I come to Nepal to study. Having always been close to my relatives, I took the opportunity and left my parents to study in Nepal. That is when I realized that the mysterious language that my parents used to communicate with each other whenever they wanted to complain about me is Newari, my inherited mother tongue. Rather than try to decode that, I wanted to learn Nepali. But despite my initial determination I struggled to speak it because people sometimes laughed at me when I made mistakes. I became nervous about making grammatical errors or confusing vocabulary.
And here again, I was nervous of having to live through the same thing. Even though I knew I should be taking every opportunity that came my way to practice speaking Mandarin, I found myself trying to avoid it, like I had done with Nepali. But pretty soon I learned that hoping to meet even a basic English speaking waitress, taxi driver or shop keeper was futile. And like I did with Nepali, I eventually pushed myself to use all the vocabulary and grammar I was learning in Mandarin class.
Soon after, when I ordered a very cheap egg roll from the street food vendor at the west gate of my university and got a discount for ordering in Mandarin, I realized that Chinese people really appreciate it when a foreigner attempts to speak in their language. Since then, I have made numerous mistakes with my tones causing people to stare at me and giggle. After that, they patiently help me.
I have told a shop keeper that I want to sell instead of buy the red t-shirt to her left. I had mixed up the tones for the words “buy” and “sell”. In the first week, one of my friends who was in the subway accidentally stepped on an old man’s feet. Instead of saying “sorry” he said “thank you” and realized the mistake when he saw the old man’s reaction. Every foreign student learning Mandarin has a similar story.
And it is to a large part due to the fact that learning Mandarin demands a good memory. I have had to write characters until I’ve fully memorized them. In five months, I know about thousand characters. I have also learned a few tricks along the way. For example, when I go to a Chinese restaurant where they don’t have an English translated menu, I can still identify which dish has meat and what kind of meat.
Coming to Beijing has enabled me to see the changing reality of the world: English is no longer the main medium for communication even amongst foreigners.
In my first few weeks, I bumped into a stranded student from Uzbekistan who was on the wrong floor. When I tried to help him in English, he responded to me in Mandarin. He didn’t understand English. My Sri Lankan roommate is twenty seven and is in her second year of a four-year Chinese language course. In broken English, she told me that learning Mandarin would help her find a job in her own country.
While speaking Mandarin is mandatory in class, outside, it becomes a choice. Fortunately, many foreigners have made the choice not to speak their mother tongue or English to practice the new vocabulary and grammar learned in class.
There are over fifty other Nepalese students studying Mandarin. When I meet them while washing dishes, I usually get greeted with “Nǐ chī fàn le ma?” instead of “tapai le khana khanu bhayo?”
Learning Mandarin and getting around the city with what I study has been empowering as an eighteen year old. Still, one does feel disconnected sometimes, particularly from family and friends.
I had to restart my laptop, and log in twice before being able to successfully attach and send this write up. Not being able to use Gmail has obliged me to use Yahoo which is the closest substitute to a familiar email service. But Yahoo doesn’t work well so I am considering using a Chinese email service to avoid frequent glitches. In the mean time, I have convinced my family and friends to use the social networking site called WeChat, a messaging and calling up widely used here.
And I do miss home. Whenever it is 7:30pm, I find myself waiting for my mother’s call. When I come across chicken feet and thousand-year old eggs, I miss Daal Bhaat.
I know I still have a lot to learn and adjust to over the next 4 years. But what I can say after spending five months and half in Beijing to those who wonder why I am here is:
Why not?
Group picture with fellow students before climbing the great Wall of China, Mu Tian Yu.
Nepal won the gold medal in the South Asian Games men’s football defeating India after more than two decades. It is the third gold medal for Nepal in the 12th edition of SAG. Ignoring the ‘celebration blockade’ – the cutting of the Nepali anthem – proud players sang even louder. Jai Nepal!
A common complaint in Nepal is a lack of vision for the country. Another is a lack of leadership. Yet, the reality is that there are people with vision, with experience, leadership and will. They just need to be heard.
One such person is Bhairaja Panday, a Nepali-born career diplomat who has worked for almost three decades as a humanitarian servant around the world. In this interview, and the adapted translation below, he shares his vision for Nepal.
Bhushan Dahal, Presenter:
Namaste, Nepalis have been negatively affected by a series of things: natural disasters, an Indian blockade and politics. All the things that a government should have been doing; that parties should have been doing – taking responsibility, playing a role – have not been done. It is only now, 9 months after the earthquake, that the government is taking action.
Bhairaja Panday, an International Humanitarian relief aid worker for almost three decades, joins us to talk about providing relief, politics and conflict-resolution.
Perhaps it is better to start with your personal story. You were born in Dhading, you finished your studies in the US and then you started your long UN career. Give us a quick tour.
I used to teach in a law campus here. I got a scholarship to go to the US. While I went to study there, the UN contacted me. I had just finished my first degree – I had gone for a phd initially. After my first degree, they offered me a job and posted me to Bangkok. That is where my twenty-eight year career took off.
At the start of the story, when you were in Nepal, you had prominent contemporaries, like Baburam Bhattarai.
Yes, he was my classmate. He was a very sincere man. He still is probably. Another classmate was Dr. Upendra Devkota. He was a minister. People ask, how come all of you were together. At that time, I was the college president and we all worried about the country. Baburam didn’t used to talk at all. Dr Upendra was more vocal – he used to speak sometimes. He has started to again. Even as students, we were worried about social issues. It was during the panchayat. [The panchayat was Nepal’s partyless system imposed by the then King Mahendra. He had overthrown Nepal’s first democratically-elected government and dissolved parliament in 1960].
Since the thirty years that have passed, have the concerns you had then been reflected in what has come to pass?
No. Instead of going forward, the country has gone backwards. Perhaps there aren’t as many examples like our own in the world. When we had programs then, I never imagined that we would regress. I did not think it was possible.
Why do you think this has gone backwards?
Because of political instability. Peoples’ minds have changed. They think about their own personal gains – how they can take advantage of things and this is an attitude that society has started to tolerate.
But isn’t that natural?
Yes it is. But that is what the state has to understand – that people should have a minimum standard.[…] The bureaucracy of the state is too big. There is no productivity. Instead, small, efficient and effective bureaucracy will work and the country will advance. The bureaucracy has no accountability and no responsibility.
And their political masters?
Even political masters. The bureaucracy controls them, and political masters are scared of the bureaucracy. The bureaucracy knows that politicians will come and go. But there is no accountability. That is why the state is falling apart.
[…]
Look at people. Look at how much they can tolerate. For us, coming from abroad, we don’t have the right to keep talking about the country because we do not face the problems that locals do. But our heart cries. Because our country could have headed in another direction. But through many factors, it has come to this. Maybe this is the fate of the country. Sincere people exist here. But sincere people need to have effective leadership which they have not been able to have.
We appreciate that because you’ve lived many years outside, you cannot talk about these issues. But at the same time, your experience may be able to help Nepal. Through your UN service, many of the political issues you see in Nepal, you have already seen elsewhere. Were any of those countries you knew able to get out of them?
Some were, some weren’t.
Which countries were not able to?
Somalia, South Sudan. In Somalia where I served for about 2 years, I saw the country commit suicide in front of me. It was because of ethnic issues. The president had been trying to balance that. People protested against subsidies being issued. The country collapsed. It is still struggling.
What you experienced in Somalia – political collapse – is it similar to what is happening to us?
I am scared. It is not that similar but I am scared because our country now has the same ethnic issue. I said, please raise all issues, but do not raise the ethnic issue. Even if we have federalism, do not draw it along ethnic lines. Federalism should be done to uplift the downtrodden and that is simple statistics finding – of who is poor, in which districts – these are things you can measure. But do not make it an ethnic issue. Because both god and devil reside in every human being. In one night, I have seen thousands of people being killed over this issue – people who were friends one night, and murderers of each other the next day. We each carry that capacity. I saw this in Somalia. It was genocide. It happened in Rwanda too. In Bosnia-Herzegovina where our office was. And genocide does not happen slowly – contrarily to what people think.
Is political mismanagement part of that?
In this country, there is no sense of direction. There is no clear demarcation of where we want to go, by when, how…there is a careless attitude about just seeing how things go. It is a sin towards the country.
You play golf. You play with many diplomats and international representatives. You get to talk casually about the national attitude of doing a little and then leaving. What do your international friends say?
My international friends who come to assist think that if they give money to our country it will get lost. It is an issue of accountability. They have to account to their own government about where the money has gone. This much went into houses, into schools…But because they cannot, they don’t know if they should give money or not. They are worried. Many don’t care, they say, just give money to Nepal. But others are worried. They say if we give you money, you should account for it. It is also their tax money. It is not something that has come for free.
The reality is that after the earthquake in Nepal, global donations, and humanitarian assistance started coming in but then, international aid money that was pledged did not materialize. Why?
Because of accountability. Money in international aid needs to be accounted for. It is only then that more will come in. In Indonesia, after the tsunami in 2004, I was called to by ASEAN to take a look at their state of affairs. The government had a powerful mechanism. They were able to account for each house they built or contributed towards. They received seven billion dollars post-tsunami. We also had that opportunity. But now, I don’t know. In their case, the money came, it was spent, and it was accounted for and shown to the donor. It has to be shown to account
Even if this opportunity came through disaster, it was still an opportunity. The country has taken over 9 months to come together for reconstruction.
That is a disaster.
It is a disaster upon a disaster.
It is a crime. Any disaster relief efforts should not have to wait so long. During the relief phase, people should not have had to suffer the way they did. There should have been accountabilty. We are now in the rehabilition phase. If we had been able to show accountability, we would have had the actualization of the 4.3 billion dollars that were pledged to us.
Is that money lost now?
That is gradually going to be harder to get because the trust is lost. Donors have a limited interest. Nepal’s earthquakes are no longer in the headlines. There are other disasters around the world and the money gets transferred. Now to get it back, when it was being offered without effort, will take a lot of effort.
[…]
[But] through the inauguration of reconstruction efforts, there is progress. I met with the Prime Minister and he is very worried that it has taken so long.
Do you feel that that concern is reflected in our state structure?
We need results. An emergency is an emergency. It is something that should have happened within 3-4 weeks.
That is what should have happened but the reality is that emergency relief arrived, but as we speak, materials may still be stuck in parts of the airport; they have not been distributed. It rained, and tarps were not delivered [to provide shelter]. It is cold now. We have not been able to send warm clothes. So between rhetoric and reality, what do you see?
Recently someone has been appointed. We need to give him some time. Whatever support he needs from us – UN retirees- we are ready to give for free. We just need to be asked. We don’t need money or any posts.
Does our government have taking capacity?
For now, we have not seen it. But we hope we will.
In your experience – surely the lack of accountability by a government is something you have seen elsewhere?
In Thailand, after the tsunami, I told the then prime minister that I had 50 million dollars under my signature. I asked him – do you need it? He said, no – we do not. I am managing it all my self.
Through a video camera, he was connected to every district. There was a command center. He could check on each of them on what had been done. We also visited places in person. He spoke five minutes with each district directly asking them if they needed anything. People were scared of talking to the Prime Minster. In the end they did not take any of the money and I was worried about what to do with it all!
In Chechnya, Russian soldiers had been bombing the republic. They asked me what I could do. I asked the provincial leader what he needed. He said, 200-300 trucks by tomorrow morning. I said ok. They were delivered the next day. It was full of food reserves. The prime minister was so grateful after that, he came to see me off and pick me up every time.
So the government needs receiving capacity. It seems that in these cases there were two types of executive heads and two types of crises. How did you find the bureaucracy in these two places?
In Thailand, they were worried about their image. If I don’t do this, what will my people think?
It was the same for war-torn Chechnya.
International assistance arriving is a big opportunity for politicians. It is a political bonanza. My hope is that politicians who visit jilas [Nepali administrative zones] can say, I’ve built x houses, these many schools, etc…
From your personal experience, how do you evaluate Nepal’s receiving capacity, political will and bureaucratic strength?
For someone watching from the outside, the attitude seems to be that noone is worried about losing their job if they do not deliver. Noone is worried about being taken to court, or that people have been dying because of lack of accountability. In the hills, if someone is dying because of the cold, someone should be accountable for that: we have money and ability. That is a human rights violation
But that is the reality. Even if that is not what you want to say about your country. Children do not have access to education. Old people have not received clothes.Global aid and Nepal’s earthquakes have brought in money. If that is misused, should someone not be taken to court?
They should. If someone’s life has been lost, someone should be accountable. I was talking to a minister. He told me that responsibility has been given to people but there is no accountability. If one is able to justify why something has not happened, that is considered to be fine. Nothing else is done beyond that.
Through your western education and western deployment, how do you view democracy, which Nepal is also trying to implement?
Democracy is responsibility. It is very expensive. It is slow because you have to consider everyone and especially after this constitution, democracy is a white elephant. It represents a world of flowers. What are you going to do with all these flowers? They will rot. These flowers come with expenses.
We want 7-8 provinces, elections for upper and lower houses. So all the money we have will go into funding the government. When in our country 25 percent of the population is surviving on less than 50 cents- 1 dollar a day. When our sons are going to the gulf and working as slaves. When our daughters are working in bars or in brothels we are talking about having a big government and big legislators.
Our constitution is very pretty. Like Paris Hilton. But how useful is she? When I read the constitution, I am reminded of Paris Hilton. All the lovely things in the world are in it. But it is not workable.
Our closest neighbor – the biggest democracy in the world – did not approve of our massive bouquet – our constitution- resulting in the economic blockade of our country. What do you make of that?
In my experience, whenever we have had positive things in our history, India has been involved. In 2007 we were involved with them as well as when the Maobadis entered the peace agreement. In 2008 when Girija signed papers, they were present too. For them, who were so closely involved, it was unexpected: how did we suddenly not care to tell them when we passed our constitution? They were surprised. That is normal. A constitution is a political document, not just a legal one. It affects China, it affects India. We cannot say that our constitution is not linked to India. That is what diplomacy is. When we are going into constitution building, we need to involve our neighbours. It is our fault and it is also their fault. They fault lies in that they should not have lashed at such a small country that had just gone through such a huge earthquake.
There is a line of thought that says that India has by and large tried to dominate in Nepal in more than the political sphere. I think that is true. What do you think?
I don’t agree. I think India cares about Nepal. I studied there with other Nepalis and we were appreciated. Nepalis got jobs there. There is no war to be fought against India. They have terrorism issues, and other problems like Kashmir…In their opinion, Nepal should just be discrete. It is not a primary issue. But it is both of our faults that this situation has arisen and it should be solved.
But this time we were strong-headed. We were not subservient. Do you think that our diplomatic tactics have been good?
I don’t think so. Today’s diplomacy is different: noone can shout at anyone. In Tunisia, one person’s self-immolation ignited the Arab spring. Hosni Mubarak left. Bashar al Assad is struggling. Today’s world is marked by interconnectedness. The time to be confrontational has passed. If an elephant is standing there, a small ant cannot go fight it. We need to know our strengths. International relations is a power game. It is not about human rights. We used to play big countries, powerful countries like China and India against each other. Now China, will not support Nepal against India. They have business going on worth 90 billion dollars. In 3 years, that will be 300 billion. That is far more important. Now, we have to take our own strength and see how we can help our people following this earthquake.
Is the problem in Madhes a genuine or an artificial one?
There is history of bias there. Our previous minister said that they would get their own province. And now, to create a constitution without taking that into consideration is a problem. But there is a solution.
We need a small effective government. The money should go to build roads, to develop the country, to increase education…The money should not be going towards funding a big government. I am not for the path of ethnic-based federalism.
Isn’t what you are saying too late?
It is….but sometimes, we believe in miracles. I pray for a miracle. I am hearing new forces in the road. They say, lets choose one president give him 12 subordinates and then led them deliver. Let him do things and show it.We need a person who has a direction for the country. […]It can happen. I am hopeful that it will.
The Other Nepal 