Originally published on Global Voices
The ‘Pattharkatta’ in the western Terai region of Nepal represents an endangered community of people who have an ancestral occupation of cutting stones. In Nepal, they are considered ‘untouchables’ and are subject to social segregation and discrimination. For generations, Pattharkattas have been making stone tools for Nepali households. However, being an outcast with a low population, they faced years of marginalisation and a constant struggle for recognition. And the study of their present socio-economic conditions is often not prioritised in Nepal.
In Nepal, they are part of the Dalit community, who belong to the lowest tier within the caste hierarchy. They have been traditionally confined to carrying out caste-based occupations, often doing menial jobs and facing social segregation.
Today, an estimated 3,343 Pattharkattas living in Nepal are struggling with dead-end jobs with no opportunity for growth to sustain their livelihood. While the government provides a minority social security allowance to the Pattharkatta community, it is insufficient to adequately support their families. For instance, while the government has reserved 9 percent of civil service positions for Dalits, no Pattharkattas have managed to join the civil service field in Nepal. The main reason is that they have higher illiteracy rates than average in the country, due to a lack of educational resrouces, and they struggle to benefit from government initiatives to include Dalits in the employment sector.
This is the story of Jawahir Pattharkatta, a 38-year-old stone-carver from Sawatikar village located in Nawalparasi (West) district of Nepal who began stone-carving at the age of 12. Jawahir spends his days with stones. Whether in the scorching sun or the freezing cold; he is often covered in stone dust, hammering stones outside his small one-room, one-story house. In a face-to-face interview last November, Jawahir said, “My forefathers used to live under a tent, but through continuous hard work, I built this house to shelter my family from the sun and rain”.
He gets large stones from the nearby rivers after paying a fee to various local committees where he sources the stones. He then carves them into appliances like loro, silauto, jato, and okhal— all tools for cooking and processing ingredients. They are basically traditional stone blenders and grinders. During festival seasons, he also carves idols of deities. Stone carving is his year-round job, spanning 365 days a year.
Jawahir blames his illiteracy for the poor finances of his family. He expressed, “I never had the opportunity to study, so I ended up with a low-paying occupation. But I am determined to provide higher education for my daughters so that they can become powerful officers in future”. Jawahir continued, “I have three daughters. Our society prioritises sons over daughters, but I never felt the need for a son because I believe daughters can achieve as much as, or even better than, sons can”. It is through the income from crafting these stone-made appliances that he is able to send his daughters to school.
Despite his skilful hands and the long hours he dedicates to his work, his stone-carving occupation barely provides him with the basic necessities, making survival challenging. Caste-based occupations such as stone-carving are perceived as low-status in Nepali society and are frequently subjected to discrimination. The additional burden of caste discrimination and untouchability is also a concern, as it limits access to various resources, both material and non-material, leaving fewer viable alternatives to their traditional occupation.
The rapid pace of modernization has placed the future of Jawahir’s occupation at stake, as the demand for traditional stone-made appliances is declining. People are switching to modern appliances such as electric mixers and grinders because they are efficient and easy to use. Jawahir said, “The sales of loro, silauto, jato, etc. have drastically declined over the past five years. It has become very difficult to sell these items even when I travel village to village”. With pain evident in his eyes, he added, “I will never be able to provide a better life and higher education for my daughters with the meagre earnings I make from stones”.
Regarding the Dalit employment quota, Jawahir says,
]]>We don’t need any money or quota from the government. We would be happier if we only had a proper market for our stone-made goods because stone carving is our identity and the only skill we have. The government should guarantee a fair market for the skilled work of indigenous communities who rely on their traditional occupations to sustain themselves while preserving their ancestral identities.
Originally published on Global Voices
This article by Rabin Pun Magar was originally published in Nepali Times, and an edited version has been republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
The rugged mountains of Eastern Rukum district of Lumbini Province situated along the Dhaulagiri mountain range are all covered in late snow this winter. After a prolonged drought, it has finally snowed, but it is too late for the high altitude meadows to grow again. They have all dried up.
At 3,720m, visitors rarely make it to the high pasture at the mountainous Ma Kharka grazing region. But even until 20 years ago, every family in the village of Lukum brought its sheep and mountain goats for grazing up here. Shepherds with their flocks spent half a year in what used to be cool, green patches of grasslands. Very few do so now.
Rassa Gurung, 65, is one the last few shepherds carrying on their ancestral occupation. “I started coming here as a baby, slung over my mother’s back. We didn’t read and write back then, we all helped our parents tend the sheep,” he says.
Gurung knows every corner of this pasture like the back of his hand. His sheep used to graze freely, but now he has to watch that they do not wander into someone’s farm or enter the nearby community forest.
The 8,167 metres tall Mt Dhaulagiri looms in the distance, and even the peak has little snow this year. It looks like a giant dark rock.
The sheep are also dying from mysterious causes. “Some 40–50 sheep die every year now. I myself have only 150 sheep now, down from 300 four years ago,” says Gurung. “Most of them die because they eat poisonous grass, as the edible grass does not grow in time. Some are eaten by leopards and bears.”
He adds: “It rains when it is not supposed to, and it does not snow when it is supposed to. Sometimes it does not snow till March, and other times it does not rain until June, so there is no grass to graze on.”
High-mountain communities are disproportionately affected by the climate crisis. 2023 was one of the hottest years Nepal has experienced.
“Farmers are affected directly by the increase in the average temperature. Unpredictable seasonal changes can lead to the growth of new species, and native Indigenous plants disappear,” explains climate scientist Ngamindra Dahal.
He adds: “Rainfall patterns have also changed. At times we have unseasonal cloudbursts, other times there is no winter rain and we get droughts. The absence of snow has affected sheep herders.”
Indeed, new kinds of grasses have started growing, and for shepherds like Gurung, there is no way to know if they are edible.
Botanist Bhakta Bahadur Raskoti agrees that climate change has affected the growth of edible grass for sheep and goats in high mountain areas. “Because of climate change, grass species from the Tarai are now found in the mountains, while mountain grasses have moved up,” he adds.
Shepherd Jore Pun, 43, used to have 350 sheep a few years ago, but now has only 250.
Lukum used to be a large sheep-farming village in the Eastern Rukum district. Half of the 400 households here used to herd sheep and goats. Today, there are 500 households, but only 35 are pastoralists.
The Magar people make up the majority of the Rukum East population. To them, sheep rearing used to be a way of life here. The sheep are sacrificed during their festivals, and women make clothing from their wool. With the sheep gone, these traditions are now in decline.
“Our grasslands are depleting, and sheep rearing has become unfeasible,” says ward chair Mankaji Pun. “Moreover, young men are moving out for jobs in the cities or overseas. They are abandoning their ancestral occupation.”
Many men from here have left for the Gulf, Malaysia or India. Youth here are also increasingly finding routes to America. Only the women, the elderly and children are left.
Almost every household here has at least one member migrated to the USA. These families spend as much as NPR. 6 million (USD 45,175) to make their way there, borrowed from local lenders at high interest.
Dilchan Pun Magar of Lugum was rearing sheep until three years ago. He had 200 of them. Unable to make a living, he also kept side jobs. He has now completely given up on sheep rearing and operates a hotel.
“We couldn’t modernise sheep farming. It was a lot of work, and we barely made any money, so I ended up leaving it altogether,” says Pun Magar.
Rassa Gurung is still supporting his family by selling sheep. He says he makes NPR 400,000 (USD 3,012) a year, and the income goes to pay for his children’s education. “But my children are not interested in taking after me. They think it is too much work,” he adds.
Jore Pun also cites the new generation’s lack of interest as a reason for the decline of sheep farming. He says, “People started going to school. Now, everyone is migrating. Sheep farming is a lot of work, after all.”
There are still about 22,000 sheep in Rukum East, according to the Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development. Two years ago, there were nearly 800,000 sheep across the country. It is now down to 770,000.
This decrease in sheep numbers has similarly affected the production of meat, down from 2,964 metric tons last year to 2,880 this year. Wool production has also decreased, from 584,000kg two years ago to 567,412 this year.
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
As the world seeks to reduce carbon usage, there is a global surge in demand for energy transition minerals, and Nepal is witnessing similar trends.
In Nepal, in areas such as Chitwan, Dhading, and Makawanpur districts — where Indigenous communities, including Tamang, Chepang, and other mixed ethnic groups, reside — minerals like limestones and sands are common. The ongoing extraction activities of crusher and mining industries pose a significant problem in Indigenous Chepang settlements in Dhading, Makawanpur, and Chitwan Districts of Nepal.
The escalating mining for these resources poses a direct threat to Indigenous rights and territories. There is a high probability that the continued unsustainable extraction of minerals will eventually displace the Chepang people. The consequences and aftermath of natural calamities could push the vulnerable Chepang community further towards the margins. Quarrying activities have inevitably caused environmental destruction, including excavation, soil and land degradation, loss of biodiversity, and water pollution.
Global Voices recently conducted a face-to-face interview with Gobindaram Chepang in January 2024, the Chairperson of the Nepal Chepang Association, to gather more information on the implications for the Indigenous Chepang people due to limestone extraction. According to Gobindaram Chepang, there are three cases of limestone extraction directly impacting the Chepang community. First, 17 households in Kollar, Supar, Viurang of Siddhi, Kalika Municipality in Chitwan are in the process of displacement due to the extraction of iron and copper by mining companies.
Second, he mentioned that 40 households of the Indigenous Chepang and Tamang community living in Ginggung, Raksirang Rural Municipality, ward number 04, have been displaced from their territories as the Riddhi Siddhi Cement Industry extracts limestone. He quoted the community representatives who shared that limestone extraction in villages has led to soil erosion, landslides, degradation of agricultural lands, and water pollution. According to the Chairperson, the plight of the community is that Riddhi Siddhi Cement Industry offered a reasonable compensation amount of Nepali Rupees (NPR) 1,50,000 (USD 1,128) per Kattha (383.63 sqm), but the intermediary contractors took advantage of it by selling at NPR 20,000 (USD 1,505) per Kattha.
As per the Chairperson, the third case is from Talti of Dhading Benighat Rorang, ward number 2, which is in the process of displacing 60 households due to mineral extraction by Trishakti Mineral Water Pvt. Ltd. The Chairperson reported:
Only half of the households with land ownership certificates received compensation. The remaining half did not receive anything, as the Chepangs were practicing the ‘Khoriya’ system, a traditional form of farming on unregistered lands. The Divisional Forest Office of Dhading halted these forms of farming in steep lands used by the Chepangs. The compensation amount was reasonable for those with land certificates, but those without land ownership certificates had to suffer.
There have been a handful of news reports online and on YouTube about the issues faced by the Chepangs due to limestone extraction. Recent news published in Nepali online reports highlighted a company using a fake signature from a Chepang family to obtain a permit for limestone extraction in Dhading district. This underscores that the voices of the Chepangs remain unheard.
One major reason behind oppressing the voiceless is that many politicians are themselves involved in mineral extraction. More than 200 representatives elected in Nepal’s 2022 municipal elections had “a direct or indirect stake in local businesses, particularly construction-related contract businesses,” which are dependent on mining and crushers. Secondly, these problems have often been amplified after federalism, where acts and policies systematically marginalize vulnerable populations. For example, Nepal’s Local Government Operation Act 2017 granted municipalities the authority to issue contracts for the extraction and collection of river materials. Before 2015, the power to extract sand, gravel, slate, and its conservation was decided at the central government level.
The seventh central national assembly on January 14, 2024, organized by the Nepal Chepang Association, called on various community-based organizations (CBOs), non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and international non-governmental organizations (INGOs) working in Chepang-inhabited areas for effective and close coordination. All the groups require approval from the Nepal Chepang Association to operate in that sector. This one-door policy aims to ensure meaningful and participatory engagement in upcoming project activities and to scrutinize any institutions working in Chepang settlements.
The seventh central national assembly also addressed the issue of the implementation of the declaration of Chepang Protected areas in Chitwan, Makawanpur, and Dhading by the Bagmati provincial government.
If these unsustainable extractions are not controlled or monitored by the government, it will remain a threat to people living nearby. Large-scale mining will result in irreparable damage to the environment and local agriculture, threatening lands, water sources, livelihoods, and ways of life, ultimately displacing the Chepang community from their ancestral land. A delayed response to these problems will lead to attributed land degradation. Haphazard excavation of limestone poses a landslide risk and the drying up of natural springs.
It is not only about monetary compensation and tangible impacts caused by the extraction of minerals, such as air pollution and the shrinking of water sources. It is about Chepangs’ indigeneity, cultures, traditions, and their attachments to the lands. Attachment to their ancestral lands and forests will only protect their culture and traditional livelihoods. Displacement will consequently lead to the erasure of their spiritual and cultural values connected to the land and resources, food systems, and livelihoods as they are closely associated with forests.
Recognizing and protecting the Indigenous knowledge and practices of Indigenous communities is necessary as it contributes to the sustainable management of natural resources, ecosystems, and biodiversity, sustaining their traditional livelihoods, and maintaining traditional knowledge, skills, and cultural values. Although Nepal has adopted the International Labor Organization (ILO) Convention 169 and the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), it continues to fail in implementing them and disregards the rights of Indigenous Peoples and their livelihoods.
The UN Guiding Principles call upon companies to conduct human rights due diligence to identify, mitigate, and remediate adverse human rights impacts in business operations and relationships.
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
Nepal has set an exemplary standard for global wildlife conservation, and its success stories are truly inspiring. Whether it's doubling its tiger population, increasing the forest coverage from 26 to 45 percent in 25 years, or achieving zero poaching of rhinos and tigers in a year, Nepal has achieved many noteworthy conservation goals. However, Indigenous communities such as Chepang, Tharu, Bote, and Majhi people have become the silent victims of Nepal's conservation success story. In 2021, a report jointly released by Amnesty International and the Community Self-Reliance Centre (CSRC) revealed that Nepal's Indigenous communities have endured a series of human rights abuses spanning the last five decades due to oppressive conservation policies.
Nepal is an incredibly diverse country in terms of geography. Within an area of less than 150,000 square kilometres, its terrain varies from 60 meters to an elevation of 8,848 meters above mean sea level. These diverse terrains contain 118 different types of ecosystems and over 12,000 species of flora and fauna.
Nepal introduced its first wildlife conservation act in 1957. It was replaced by the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act in 1973, which provided legal protection to 27 mammal species, nine bird species and three reptile species. Also, in 1973, Nepal established its first National Park — the Chitwan National Park — which was granted World Heritage Site status in 1984.
In 1980, the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation was set up as a separate entity under the Ministry of Forest and Soil Conservation.
To conserve the ecosystems and biodiversity, Nepal now has 12 national parks, a wildlife reserve, a hunting reserve, six conservation areas and 13 buffer zones, covering 23.39 percent of the total land area. According to WWF Nepal, buffer zones are “areas adjacent to national parks or wildlife reserves where wild animals and villagers can co-exist.”
Indigenous Peoples like Chepang, Musahar, Majhi, Bote, Tharu, who are living in the southern belt of the Terai region buffer zone, have been adversely impacted in their day-to-day livelihood, as well as in their social, cultural, and spiritual practices due to conservation policies, natural resource extraction, and mega-development projects. This has severely limited their ability to access traditional foods, medicinal plants, and other resources.
There have been multiple forced evictions of landless Indigenous peoples living on the periphery of protected areas by park authorities. There were news reports of Chepang families being compelled to leave their homes through arson and incidents where people had their possessions destroyed. These actions represent violations of their constitutional rights, basic fundamental human rights, and housing rights. Illustrating this, a recent statement from a participant in the Tharu community during an event organized by the Center for Indigenous Peoples’ Research and Development (CIPRED) raised concerns, stating, “Indigenous Tharu community people were evicted from the Chitwan National Park area during its establishment period, and now business tycoons are encroaching on the same lands and area.”
For sharecroppers and landless Indigenous communities, damages caused by wildlife, wildlife attacks, and other issues often go unregistered, as they lack land ownership certificates. Consequently, they become ineligible for relief compensation mechanisms.
Besides conserving flora and fauna in Nepal, one of the objectives of the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation is to support the communities residing within park boundaries and their buffer zones. However, in reality, Nepal's conservation laws failed to meet international standards, as they currently can only protect people living ‘on land that they own’ and do not ensure adequate safeguards against forced evictions of individuals without ownership titles.
Although Nepal has ratified several international treaties and conventions, the absence of in-house Indigenous Peoples-friendly acts and regulations continues to exacerbate the issue. Neither the outdated National Park and Wildlife Conservation (NPWC) Act (1973) nor the ongoing amendments to regulations, directives, and procedures are inclusive of Indigenous people. The government authority permits the construction of hydropower projects in conservation areas under the guise of National Priority Projects in current regulations. The existing laws have also failed to address the demands of Indigenous and local citizens, necessitating timely amendments.
Section 5 of the National Park and Wildlife Conservation Act (1973) restricts hunting, grazing, tree cutting, land cultivation, or forest use and prohibits all construction within a national park or reserve. Communities whose day-to-day livelihoods and traditions depend on nature are now facing challenges arising from Nepal’s legislation, which criminalizes people living in the periphery of national parks. Based on my field visit in November 2023 and discussions with the Rana Tharu Community residing in Padhao village of Kanchanpur District, adjacent to Suklaphanta National Park, the situation of restricted access to natural resources such as fodder, firewood, and basic edible items for the Rana Tharu community remains unchanged.
Articles 6 and 15(1) of the ILO Convention 169 (1989) and Articles 29, 31, and 32 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, or UNDRIP (2007), mandate the facilitation of effective consultations with Indigenous peoples and the requirement to obtain their free, prior and informed consent in matters concerning the conservation of protected areas on their ancestral lands. However, upon reviewing Nepal's NPWC Act (1973), it becomes evident that the Act does not contain any provisions explicitly mentioning consent. There is a notable absence of provisions for free and prior informed consent (FPIC) for Indigenous communities, as stipulated in the ILO Convention 169, the Convention on Biological Diversity (both of which Nepal has ratified), and UNDRIP.
In December 2023, the Center for Indigenous Peoples’ Research and Development (CIPRED) published a common position paper developed in consultation with 23 representatives from Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities organizations. The paper outlines what the Nepal government needs to do and how conservation can be made more friendly to Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities. The recommendations derived from the paper include more protection and remedies for the affected Indigenous peoples and recognition of ancestral lands for respective Indigenous peoples and local communities.
Originally published on Global Voices
Jayant Sharma is a writer, editor, and literary translator, who primarily works in Nepali and English. A staunch advocate for the global recognition of Nepali literature, he has translated over two dozen literary works. He is also the founder of translateNEPAL, an initiative that amplifies Nepal's literary presence worldwide.
Jayant contributes regularly to South-Asian journals, delving into topics encompassing Nepali arts, culture, and literature. Additionally, he is the author of ‘To Whom It May Concern,’ a poetry collection published in Australia. Global Voices talked to him via email about his translation work and literary inspirations:
Global Voices (GV): You've continued to contribute significantly to the field of Nepali literary translation. Can you share some of your recent translation projects and what drew you to them?
Jayant Sharma (JS): Recently, I translated Pradeep Gyawali’s poetry collection, ‘Bina Salikka Nayakharu,’ into English as ‘Unsung Heroes,’ slated for publication next year. Gyawali’s works, especially his poems, left a profound impact on me, showcasing his poetic brilliance and addressing pressing issues in Nepali society. I also finished translating Dr. Sangita Swechcha’s short story collection, ‘Gulaf Sangako Prem,’ titled ‘Rose’s Odyssey: A tale of love and loss,’ set to be published soon. Living abroad, I resonated deeply with Swechcha's stories, reflecting the struggles of the Nepali community across different geographies. I’m also working on translating Guru Prasad Mainali’s ‘Naso’ and Ramesh Bikal’s ‘Naya Sadak ko Geet,’ aiming to introduce these acclaimed works to a global audience. On a personal front, I’m working on a project ‘Whispers in the Mountain,’ a collection of short stories from Nepal featuring important works of 30 noted writers.
GV: As a translator who has delved into the works of various Nepali writers, what unique challenges and joys do you encounter when translating different literary voices?
JS: Each writer brings a unique voice, reflecting the rich tapestry of Nepali culture and experiences. The challenge lies in capturing the nuances of these voices, ensuring that the essence and cultural subtleties are preserved in translation. One must also dance with the rhythm of each writer’s prose or poetry, understanding the cadence and emotions embedded in the language. It’s like translating not just words but emotions, ensuring that the readers in a different cultural context can feel the heartbeat of Nepali literature. The joys, however, are boundless. Every writer adds a layer to the narrative, introducing me to new facets of Nepali life, traditions, and the human experience. The challenge, then, becomes a thrilling puzzle, solving which brings a deep sense of accomplishment.
GV: How do you envision the impact of translation in bridging cultural gaps and fostering a better understanding of Nepali literary heritage worldwide?
JS: Translation is a powerful tool for sharing the history and culture of one society with another. It's how we’ve come to appreciate the greatness of French, Russian, Spanish, Indian, or Chinese literature. This bridge between cultures is equally transformative in the context of Nepali literary heritage. Nepal, with its rich history dating back thousands of years, holds untold stories recorded in its literature. However, much of this past remains unknown to the world due to a lack of translation. Translation steps in as a linguistic conduit, breaking cultural boundaries and making Nepali narratives accessible globally. It provides a platform for Nepali authors on the international stage, amplifying their voices and contributing to the global literary conversation.
GV: Could you shed light on the challenges Nepali translators encounter when translating international literature, particularly when working with texts that are not available in English?
JS: Honestly, I haven’t translated much international literature into Nepali myself, but I do understand the multitude of challenges involved. One significant obstacle arises from the limited availability of the source text in Nepali, making it difficult for translators to capture the subtleties of the original language and style. Cultural contextualisation poses another hurdle, requiring translators to adeptly adapt references, idioms, and cultural nuances to resonate with Nepali readers. The challenge escalates when dealing with idiomatic expressions and wordplay. These linguistic devices may not have direct counterparts in Nepali, necessitating creative alternatives or risking a loss of intended meaning. Despite these challenges, translating international literature into Nepali presents a valuable opportunity for cultural exchange and enrichment.
GV: Share some insight on literal and thematic translation. Has your approach evolved over time, and how do you strike a balance between faithfulness to the original text and the need for adaptation to resonate with a broader audience?
JS: Personally, I strongly advocate for the power of thematic rendering in bridging the intricate nuances of one culture and language to another. In literature, a literal interpretation is like a dissonant note in a musical ensemble—out of tune and often disrupting the harmony. Looking back at my journey, my inclination towards a thematic approach has been unwavering. Despite occasional forays into literal translations during my early days, practical constraints led me astray. Over time, however, I’ve naturally gravitated towards a more nuanced and thematic orientation.
When I embark on a translation project, I undertake a thorough process. Multiple readings of the source material immerse me in its context, forming a mental roadmap for the translation journey and preparing the necessary resources. This approach requires translators to step into the author’s shoes, ensuring that the thematic rendition remains not just a translation but a faithful vessel for the genuine authenticity of the original work.
GV: As someone deeply involved in the literary scene, both as a translator and editor, how do you see the landscape of Nepali literature evolving in terms of international recognition and engagement?
]]>JS: I'm not completely disheartened, considering that Nepali literature is gradually gaining recognition on the global stage. Though still in its early stages, there’s a pressing need for a significant push to firmly establish Nepal on the world map of literature. The lack of skilled translators, editors, and financial challenges pose obstacles. Publishers are reluctant to publish translated works, and the readership is not as encouraging.
Despite these challenges, some Nepali writers like Ramesh Bikal, Indra Bahadur Rai, Parijat, Buddhi Sagar, Krishna Dharabasi, Chuden Kabimo, Chandra Gurung, and Bhisma Upreti have managed to carve a niche in global literature. However, a significant portion of Nepali literature reaching the global stage is from writers who pen their works in English rather than the original Nepali, missing the crucial voices that demand global attention. As a translator and editor, I’m excited about the potential for more global interest in our Nepali literary works. As much of Nepal remains undiscovered in world literature, everything we bring forth offers a new realisation and perspective for global audiences. This depth has the potential to attract readers worldwide and create a literary buzz that travels far.
Another reason to celebrate is the growing influence of Nepali voices from around the world. The diaspora’s impact infuses Nepali literature with a dynamic vibe that resonates globally. Thanks to the internet, our literature serves as a virtual bridge connecting with readers everywhere, with social media serving as a vibrant marketplace for literary conversations.
Originally published on Global Voices
Search engines are not always a one-stop solution for the information people are looking for. Among many niche websites providing information about Nepal, Ask Me About Nepal stands out, catering to queries of people wanting to know more about Nepal.
Nikki Thapa, a photographer and writer, always struggled to find information about Nepal and its customs online while cataloguing photos. Google and Wikipedia didn’t have the information she searched for. So, she came up with Ask Me About Nepal — a unique portal, probably a combination of Google and Wikipedia, that answers users’ queries about Nepal. The website provides information about Nepal through pictures and in-depth stories in English.
Journalist Aashish Mishra posted on X (formerly Twitter):
‘Kwoo’ adorned with inflated ‘Dho’.
A unique custom of Khokana's Sikali Jatra.To learn why this settlement – the township founded on tears – does not celebrate Dashain, please do read this report of mine.
Photo from the Facebook Page Ask Me About Nepalhttps://t.co/uvCL13nzAR pic.twitter.com/P5p2XFymYG
— Aashish Mishra (@AasMishra) October 19, 2023
Sanjib Chaudhary from Global Voices talked with Nikki Thapa about her initiative. A condensed version of the interview in below:
Global Voices (GV): How did you conceptualize Ask Me About Nepal? What was the motivation behind it?
Nikki Thapa (NT): [In the year 2000] I was working with Thomas Kelly, an American photographer who came to Nepal in 1978 as a USA Peace Corps Volunteer and contributed to documenting marginalized communities, their culture and tradition.
The Internet had just started at that time. However, I would not get any information about things I'd like to know. At that time there was a telephone line called ‘Ask Me’. which would take questions from callers. I was thinking of having a similar service that could answer the queries of people.
I left my job working with photographer Thomas Kelly in 2017 and started working on the project ‘Ask Me About Nepal’. I wanted to start a Wikipedia-like space where you can look up information on people, places, things, basically everything that echoes within Nepal. So was born, ‘Ask me about Nepal’ (AMAN). Think of it as a portal to Nepal.
GV: Who are your target audience? What sort of stories do you publish on your website? Can you share some of your web analytics?
NT: We went online in 2018 and have around 4,000 visitors every month. Most of our visitors are from the US, India and Nepal.
We are targeting a global audience — anybody who wants to know about Nepal. Specifically, researchers who want to study about Nepal, people who want to come to Nepal, and long term learners.
At Ask Me About Nepal, you’ll come across authentic, well-researched insightful content made possible by a dedicated team of researchers, writers, photographers, culture enthusiasts, industry experts, and contributors.
GV: Can you share some interesting anecdotes? What’s the response from your readers?
NT: People contact us to learn more about the published stories. For example, somebody reading a post about Nagpokhari [a pond in the heart of Kathmandu, adjacent to the former royal palace] would especially like to know more about the type of Nag (Indian cobra) in Nagpokhari. They would ask what type of Naga it is.
Others would ask us to write more about culture. We also get appreciation mail.
GV: Can you tell us how you manage the content?
NT: I'm responsible for curating the content and website. We also have occasional contributors and a team of writers.
We ask photographers to provide photos for our stories and photo bank. The Ask Me About Nepal platform provides an opportunity for budding photographers to upload their pictures and share them with an ever-growing, discerning audience.
Our main objective is to provide a platform to writers and photographers so that they can earn money while getting their stories to a wider audience. I too can earn so that I can provide grants to researchers, eventually.
GV: What are your future plans?
]]>NT: I do not want Ask Me About Nepal necessarily to be newsy but a place where users can find a plethora of information under one umbrella. It should serve as a one stop destination that offers a window into every aspect of Nepal to one who is seeking information about the country.
I want to open doors for Nepali academics to share their hard work and research by allowing them to sell their academic theses on the platform. This will not only support their academic endeavors but will also contribute to the wealth of knowledge available on Ask Me About Nepal.
Also, I want to create an “Ask Me About Nepal Foundation” dedicated to providing yearly grants to support scholars and researchers in any faculties.
Originally published on Global Voices
This story is part of the series Suburban Tales, a monthly column based on the lives of real people, by Pratibha Tuladhar, and originally published in Nepali Times. An edited version is republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
When Kalpana first held hands with her future husband, her mind drifted from the flat fields of her hometown to the wide streets of Kathmandu, which was soon to be her new home. She stood up, looked at his face, and smiled; the wheat-packed belly of the field spread behind him looked like a golden curtain, and she wished they could have a photo taken of that moment. She thought maybe a new phone with a good camera would be possible in Kathmandu, and I could post lots of pictures on Facebook.
A year since that moment, Kalpana finds herself in the enclosed room of a beauty parlour in Kathmandu. No, she isn’t getting her eyebrows done, and neither is she getting a haircut. It is where she works now. From 10–5 every day.
“The working hours are not so bad, actually,” she says. “The money is not that great, but my employer says there will be tips.”
In her hometown, Kalpana had trained to pluck eyebrows using thread, to heat wax in tin containers and pull them off with cloth strips and to massage the face and shoulders of women as they lay down for a facial session. Her friends had advised her it was the best skill to pick before heading to Kathmandu. “Easy to find jobs,” they had said. “And if you’re going to go abroad, even better. Women do really well at beauty parlours.”
Now, in Kathmandu, Kalpana finds life doesn't match the narrative she had heard on repeat back home.
She had spent a few weeks in Kathmandu visiting relatives as a child, and so, of course, she knew the city. But the Kathmandu that met her as an adult felt distant, claustrophobic and indifferent. Bus rides are no longer breezy but an ordeal. She struggles to find space to even stand without being crushed by other passengers most days. The feeling is packed with familiarity, and yet it is alarming with someone’s elbow going over her face, some crotch pressed to her side, and someone’s garlic breath upon her hair. Sometimes, during bus rides, she shuts her eyes until the conductor announces her stop, “Balaju!”
This trip costs her NPR 5,000 (USD 38) a month. “The vermin!” she thinks to herself. Kalpana sighs throughout the bus rides.
In the first few weeks at the parlour, work seemed like a place to hang out with other women, gossip, eat buff momo for 150 rupees (USD 1.13) once a week. Mostly, a bowl of spicy WaiWai (instant noodles) with channa (chickpeas) for 60 rupees (45 US cents). Kalpana found her feelings bordering on a familiar excitement, like the one she felt during her school days when stealing moments away with her childhood friends.
Within less than two months of working at the parlour, Kalpana says her duties began to evolve. The owner told her that business was slow and shutters were coming down in the city, and she had to think of a way to keep it going. She said she would either have to sell the place or reinvent it.
Kalpana had worried at that time that selling the business would mean she would be laid off. The 3,000 rupees a month that she was able to save after paying for bus fare and khaja would be gone. These days, she sometimes wishes the owner had actually sold or closed down her business. That didn’t happen, of course.
Her employer quickly turned things around. She added a sign to the business saying “massage.” And the high beds they formerly used to provide facial services soon turned into massage tables. The lady took turns training all three girls who worked alongside Kalpana, showing them where to press, where to apply force, where to knead, where to rub and where to roll.
In her new role as a masseuse, Kalpana sometimes finds that she is assisting men as well as women. The men are often, pot-bellied, middle-aged men who come in quietly and leave in a shuffle.
“One time, this man asked me for an inappropriate kind of service, and I didn’t know if I was mad or frightened. I walked out of the room and called Didi. But Didi said some clients are hard to please, and she replaced me for the rest of the session.”
Kalpana’s hands are tiny, like those of a schoolgirl, and one cannot imagine how such small hands could even cover the span of a calf or work their way across the spine. Tiny hands.
“My husband doesn’t know. He still thinks this is a parlour, which it is, too. He might kill me if he knows I’ve been working as a masseuse also. Marnu huncha (meaning “He will kill me”). If I could find another job, I’d leave. Even as a housemaid.”
Some days, I think I’ll wake up one morning, leave for work, get on the bus from Balaju and just keep going, fall asleep on the bus, buy some badam (almonds) and suntala (tangerines), eat them on the bus, then sleep again and go back home at six. They would never know, right? I mean, until the money runs out?”
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
This article by Pinki Sris Rana was originally published in Nepali Times, and an edited version has been republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
History is not always fair to the protagonists who find themselves immersed in it. The history of Nepal's Gurkha soldiers is no exception. They are known as the most skilled, toughest and bravest soldiers, who have historically been employed by the British army and are also serving today at home and abroad.
Brave khukuri-swinging soldiers in combat khakis and hats marching off to battle have been an iconic part of Nepal’s past. Forgotten on the pages of history, however, are their sarong-clad wives in Nepal or abroad, their struggles and their contributions.
Lately, there has been an effort to correct this with welcome attempts to document the experience of Gurkha wives. Artist Suzana Thapa Shris’s recent exhibition Gurkha Women: An Echo in the Story helped fill this gap by retelling the stories from the perspective of the soldiers’ wives.
“When Gurkha soldiers were fighting wars, it was their women who single-handedly led the households, they were the silent heroes,” explains 29-year-old Thapa Shris. “With limited money and resources, they raised families and boys who grew up to be lahure (Nepalis serving in foreign countries) themselves. Their contribution is immense.”
After her first exhibition, Bharseli Gurkhas: From Stories to Portraits, which looked into the lives of Gurkha soldiers from her ancestral village of Bharse of Gulmi district, Thapa Shris felt that she also needed to highlight their wives.
Coming from a Gurkha household herself, where her grandfather served in the Indian Army, Thapa Shris was introduced to her family’s praetorian past from a very young age. She grew up with her grandparents in Butwal, listening to the lore both from the battles as well as the home front.
Her father, Bom Bahadur Thapa, a horticulturist by profession and a writer, wrote a book “Bharseli Gorkhagatha ra Serofero” (history of Gurkhas) about his ancestors. When Thapa Shris started her project, the father-daughter duo interviewed some 50 women in their 70s and older from Baglung, Gorkha, Gulmi, Kaski, Palpa, Rupandehi, and Sunsari. They were all wives of Nepali soldiers who had served in the UK, India, Singapore, and Malaya (now Malaysia).
“The exhibition took shape as we were looking into who these women were, their life stories and their contribution to Gurkha history,” she adds. “Their identity and contribution has been the main objective of this exhibition.”
Thapa Shris never formally learnt art, but her raw talent for portraits is there for everyone to see. Sketches, archival pictures, visual footage of interviews, and installation art with traditional music in the background were also on display at the Nepal Art Council from November 25–28.
But the highlight of the event were the evocative testimonies with their respective portraits depicting two kinds of women: those left behind in Nepal and those in foreign lands where their husbands were deployed. Most struggled to make ends meet — especially those in a new place where they did not speak the local language.
“We automatically assume that Gurkha soldiers are well-off and their lives easy, but that is not always the case,” explains Bom Bahadur. “There was no immediate means of communication or any channel to wire money. It was these brave women who made their way.”
While archival footage helped the audience peek into their lives in foreign lands, an installation art of a classic Nepali knitted bag filled with envelopes depicted how, in those days, letters were the only medium of contact between spouses.
One section was dedicated to hand photography intended to show the resilience and the kind of lives these women led. All the portraits here had wrinkled hands of the women resting on their patterned lungi (a traditional Nepali skirt).
The exhibition also featured traditional dresses and jewellery of the Gurkha women as well as wooden utensils used by these Indigenous communities in the past. Lungi, gold beruwa bangles, and traditional gold asarfi rings synonymous with Lahureni were also heavily featured in the art and photographs.
“The gold came much later after the wartime,” adds Suzana.
“One thing all the bojus (grandmothers) said was that they were happy that they at least got to wear gold.”
The father-daughter duo is now planning to transcribe all the testimonies and turn them into a book. Bom Bahadur said, “I am glad our Gurkha women are highlighted. The fact that my daughter is working on it makes me even prouder.”
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
This article by Jibraj Chalise was originally published in Nepali Times, and an edited version has been republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
During the Dasain festival in November 2023, Sarala Thapa went to her parents’ home in the Kapilvastu district in Western Nepal. It would be a celebration without her brother Rupak, who had gone to Russia.
But the occasion turned tragic when three people showed up at their doorstep in Banganga Municipality to tell them that Rupak had been killed in action on the Ukraine front, some 9,000 kilometers away.
Since then, the family has been unable to process that Rupak is gone. The 24-year-old had gone to Russia two years ago on a student visa and, like dozens of Nepalis, had joined the Russian Army, lured by the promise of a handsome salary and eventual Russian citizenship.
“My brother called four months ago to say that we might not hear from him during his six-month training period and that he would call us once training was over,” says Sarala. “It has not been six months yet.”
Ward Chair (local government head of a ward) Sanju Saru Magar had received a phone call from Kathmandu about Rupak having been killed during the conflict in Ukraine. The caller asked them to convey the information to Rupak’s family but was unable to say if Rupak’s body could be brought back.
Ward council member Rajkumar Tharu was among those who went to Rupak’s house in early November to notify his family of his death. It was their second attempt to deliver the news to the family. Ward member Tharu, who is also neighbours with the Karki family, says that Rupak's father, Man Bahadur and mother, Laxmi, were unable to accept that their child had been killed.
“They were still sure that their son would call them once he had finished training,” says Tharu. “They also found it difficult to believe because we could provide them with no other detail surrounding his death.”
Ward president Magar says that the person who called to break the news identified themself as a Russian Embassy official, but upon checking on True Caller, they found the number to have been of a foreign employment company. Meanwhile, the unconfirmed news of Rupak’s death spread like wildfire in the district in Nepal that is the birthplace of the Buddha.
“We tried multiple times to reach the number again, but we could not get back in touch,” says Magar. “We had to notify his family with what little information we had.”
On December 4, 2023, Nepal's Foreign Ministry officially published the names of six Nepalis who had been killed while serving in the Russian Army. Rupak Karki’s name was second on the list.
Others who have died include Sandip Thapaliya of Gorkha, Dewan Rai of Pokhara, Pritam Karki of Syangja, Raj Kumar Roka of Dolakha, and Ganga Raj Moktan of Ilam.
Following confirmation from the Foreign Ministry, Lumbini provincial assembly member Bishnu Panthi along with other elected officials as well as the local police, reached Rupak Karki's house on the next morning to officially notify his family of his passing.
But the government officials were only able to tell the family that Rupak had been killed in action in the Russia-Ukraine war, not when or how he had died, says Rupak’s uncle Gautam Karki.
“There is still a lot of shock and confusion here,” says Gautam. “Rupak’s parents are unable to believe that their only son has died without seeing his body.”
Rupak’s father rears chickens, while his mother is an office assistant at a local microfinance company. The couple’s older daughter, Sarala, is married.
Rupak himself had been learning Korean to try to find work in South Korea. But he along with his neighbour Yuvaraj Poudel, decided to go to Russia in early 2022 after learning that it was easier to acquire a student visa and find work there. The two reached Russia through a Kathmandu-based foreign employment agency in May 2022.
A year later, Rupak entered into a Special Military Operations (SMO) agreement with the Russian Ministry of Defense to serve in the Russian Army. Yuvaraj Poudel, who went to Russia with Rupak, was also recruited and is in regular contact with his family.
The Russian website Book of Memories of Ivanovo states that Rupak Karki was killed on June 30 on the Ukraine front while participating in the ‘special military operation’. The website includes photographs of a grave with his name in Cyrillic and a photograph in the city of Novo-Talitsy in the Ivanovo Oblast, a Russian administrative region 324 kilometers northeast of Moscow.
Another Russian news website, Cursiv, citing a book of remembrance from the Ivanovo region, states that Sandip Thapaliya and another person whose nationality has not been disclosed were buried in the same region along with Rupak Karki.
Sandip Thapaliya was said to have been killed in the Ukrainian city of Bakhmut in July, and his body was thought to have been buried near the frontline. According to the memorial, Sandip was killed on 28 June during a ‘combat mission’.
Photographs appear to show names and dates of birth on the tombs of Rupak and Sandip, with wreaths placed atop their graves.
An unnamed Nepali prisoner of war in Ukrainian military captivity has sent a tearful video to his family asking them to bring him home. In the video, he said there are “other” Nepali prisoners also in Ukraine.
Nepal’s Foreign Ministry revealed in November 2023 that a Nepali recruit in the Russian Army, Bibek Khatri of Bardia, was also a prisoner of war in Ukraine and that the government was using diplomatic channels to bring him back.
On December 5, Nepal Police took ten foreign employment recruiters into custody for allegedly sending Nepalis to Russia on visitor visas for recruitment into the Russian military. Reports said the agencies had sent at least 200 Nepalis to Russia, promising huge salaries and Russian citizenship.
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
In Nepal's southern plains, village landscapes were once dominated by bamboo and mud-walled houses with thatched and tiled roofs. Particularly in Eastern Nepal, homes belonging to the Tharus were decorated with beautiful mokha art on mud walls. However, as the traditional mud houses in Nepal are being replaced by concrete houses, the famous art is on the verge of vanishing.
According to the National Population and Housing Census 2021, more than 50 percent of houses in Nepal have cemented walls, while around 30 percent of houses have mud-bonded brick or stone walls. Only around 11 percent of houses have bamboo walls, not to mention the 3.9 percent of houses with thatched roofs and 9.2 percent of houses with tiled roofs.
In the eastern Nepali districts of Sunsari and Morang, the Tharus create intricate designs and patterns using a blend of clay mixed with rice bran, cow dung, straw and jute, known as mokha art.
The artists, mostly women, make a mixture of clay and jute, as shown in this YouTube video produced by Vision Nepal. Layers of clay are applied to the walls, forming various geometric and floral patterns, including depictions of birds such as peacocks and parrots. After the design dries, it is painted with natural colours, replaced by colours found in the market these days.
Likewise, in the districts of Saptari, Siraha, and Udaypur, the artists use a mixture of clay, rice bran and cow dung and daub it on the bamboo walls together with straw. They apply layers of this mixture to create geometric and floral patterns, including peacocks, parrots and elephants. Once the design dries, it is painted with natural white clay before applying other natural colours — ochre and red clay, and black soot among others. This art, a form of mokha, is called ‘payar’.
Blogger Lex Limbu posted on X (formerly Twitter):
Beautiful mokha artwork on the walls of Saptariya Tharu family homes in Goigada. More: https://t.co/FMIFMGDedN #Tharu #Mokha #Art #SaptariyaTharu #PurviTharu #Nepal pic.twitter.com/4fkgveilvP
— lexlimbu (@lexlimbu) July 9, 2023
This art, along with its techniques, processes, motifs, and patterns, has been passed down from one generation to the next. Women typically inherit this knowledge from their mothers and grandmothers.
“It has been passed down from generation to generation within the rural family, usually — but by no means always — carried out by the women”, wrote Kurt W. Meyer and Pamela Deuel, who spent around four years touring nearly 300 Tharu villages. “There are no schools, no art colleges, no teachers who tell them what is ‘right’ and what is ‘wrong’ — it is for this reason that we call it ‘Art without Artists’”.
Mokha art and other forms of wall decorations are normally created during festivals and for special occasions like marriage.
“Mokha art is made on the right and left sides of the main door and around the windows,” writes Bishnu Prasad Chaudhary in his book Tharu Lok Kala (Tharu Folk Arts). “Adding jute and cotton to the clay minimizes cracking of the patterns.”
Likewise, adding milk to the colours before applying them to the designs ensures the colours don’t fade quickly. The female artists also decorate the pillars with these art motifs.
“A well-decorated house displaying mokha art is still known as a house having lucky women”, writes artist S.C. Suman. “There is prosperity in a house having mokha. According to popular belief among the Tharus, if there is no mokha in someone’s house, half a kilogram of rice is lost every day.”
Pramila Biswas of Labipur, Sunsari District in south-eastern Nepal, takes pride in showing the mokha art made by her mother-in-law, Jhalaiya Biswas. “Most of the houses in our village were decorated with mokha art,” Biswas said in an interview with Global Voices. “However, as the traditional houses are being replaced by concrete houses, we have only a few houses left with mokha art.”
“As the municipality is expanding the road, the mokha art on my house walls will be taken down,” lamented Kishni Majhi from the same village.
Due to the cumbersome process of making mokha art and the painstaking effort required to maintain the wall art — many artists have to reapply the colours numerous times every year — many households are taking down the art and going for simple brick walls.
“We will keep maintaining the mokha art in our house,” said Hom Narayan Chaudhary from Duhabi, Sunsari. “However, we’re not sure whether our children would keep them intact.”
Not only do the houses in Labipur face these threats of extinction, but most of the Tharu traditional village houses in Nepal’s southern plains are awaiting the same fate. Without adequate measures taken to safeguard this exquisite Tharu folk art, it’s destined to disappear forever.
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
On November 13, 2023, the Nepali government imposed a blanket ban on Chinese social media platform TikTok, alleging that the platform was fostering social discord among Nepalis. However, rights groups and the civil society labeled this ban as unconstitutional and undemocratic.
TikTok gained popularity in Nepal during the Covid-19 pandemic, with claims that the platform encouraged hate speech and intolerance. According to Nepal's Minister for Communications and Information Technology Rekha Sharma, TikTok was disrupting “our social harmony, family structure and family relations.” The Nepali government reached out to TikTok multiple times regarding offensive content, but received no response, leading to the blanket ban, with which Nepal joins a growing list of countries including India, the UK, the US, the European Union and Pakistan.
As of January 2023, Nepal had 15.85 million internet users in a population of 30.55 million. Among them, 12.60 million were social media users, with Facebook being the most popular platform, boasting 11.85 million users.
Launched in August 2018 by Beijing based technology company ByteDance the video-focused platform TikTok gained popularity for its ability to optimize and display short form video content according to users’ preferences. Critics argue that the AI and algorithms it employs are addictive and unethical. TikTok, with 1.218 billion global users, ranks sixth among all social media platforms.
Experiencing tremendous growth in recent years, TikTok has become a dynamic space for creators, influencers, and businesses. Although there is no official figure for TikTok users in Nepal, experts estimate around 2.2 million as of 2022. A 2022 survey by Sharecast Initiative Nepal, involving 5,582 respondents, revealed that 56 percent of the sample group used TikTok.
On November 9, 2023, Nepal introduced the Directive on the Operation of Social Networking 2023 a 15-point rule aiming to regulate social media through administrative measures. In this directive, the government mandated that international social media platforms establish a liaison office in Nepal or appoint a focal person within three months. Additionally, these platforms are required to register with the Ministry of Information and Communication Technology, with non-compliance risking a ban in the country.
As the number of internet users grows, harassment of people for their activities online have also increased. In July of this year, one person from Jhapa District, Koshi Province, Nepal, was arrested for creating and publishing indecent TikTok videos featuring the president and the prime minister. Furthermore, over 200 police personnel were penalized in July for making TikTok videos in Uniform. However, the government's immediate concern reportedly revolves around Durga Prasad, a former opposition party member and businessman, who has initiated a slanderous campaign on TikTok against the mainstream parties, advocating for the reinstatement of a Hindu monarchy in Nepal.
While Nepal has legal measures for online libel, slander, and defamation, including the National Penal Code 2017 and the Libel and Slander Act 2016, most accused individuals face charges under Section 47 of the Electronic Transaction Act 2008.
In August this year, the government introduced a new National Cyber Security Policy to address specific cybercrimes and emerging threats. The directive outlines a list of prohibitions for social media users, including the ban on words, audio, video, or images that spread hate speech or defame/disrespect others. It also prohibits the creation of fake user IDs and includes various measures, criticized by some as contradictory to the Electronic Transactions Act (ETA) 2008 or the new Cyber Security Policy. Many perceive the directive and the TikTok ban as the initial steps in a government initiative to control social media and suppress freedom of expression in Nepal.
In Nepal, the ban has sparked widespread criticism. Gagan Thapa, the general secretary of the Nepali Congress, asserts that it was executed for political purposes.
Nepali online outlet Nepal Drishtikon posted:
Nepal government's decision to ban #TikTok draws widespread criticism. Politicians including general secretaries Gagan Thapa and Bishwa Prakash Sharma of ruling Nepali Congress party, civil society members have fiercely criticised the decision. Some have welcomed it. https://t.co/egkROgd3Ii
— Nepal Drishtikon (@NepalDrishtikon) November 13, 2023
Nepali civil society organisation Freedom Forum released a statement, signed by individuals and civil society organisations, contending that the ban impedes citizens from engaging in online conversations and participating in the global digital community. They argue that existing constitutional laws can effectively address issues arising from contentious social media content, and a blanket ban violates the constitutional guarantee of freedom of expression, as stated in Article 17(2)(a) of the Constitution of Nepal.
The international rights-focussed organization Access Now also published a statement:
Opaque ban orders are not acceptable!
The Government of Nepal must lift its recent ban on TikTok + develop democratic frameworks for platform accountability.
Our message here is clear: https://t.co/LcKvqQvQw8#TikTokBan
— Access Now (@accessnow) November 17, 2023
Constitutional law expert Bipin Adhikari posts on X (formerly Twitter);
Ti Tok has faced many bans and attempted bans in the United States and some other countries due to national security concerns and its ownership by the Chinese Company ByeteDance.We don't have to feel the same as the Constitution of Nepal does not allow it.https://t.co/fI7qT4GLgT
— Bipin Adhikari (@BipinLAW) November 14, 2023
User Parakram Rana says:
The ban on TikTok in Nepal raises concern, especially considering its impact on small business owners heavily reliant on the platform for organic marketing. As a content creator active across various platforms, I recognize its importance,
— Parakram Rana (@ParakramRana) November 20, 2023
The Kathmandu Post, quoting internet service providers, reported a 20 percent increase in internet use in the week after the TikTok ban, possibly due to the installation of VPN apps to bypass the ban. However, the Nepal Telecommunication Authority (NTA) is intensifying its TikTok ban by directing ISPs to block VPN and DNS apps.
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
This article by Uma Dhital was originally published in Nepali Times and an edited version is republished on Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
Besides the popular Dasain, Tihar (Deepawali), and Chhath festivals, Nepal is known for Kathmandu’s very own international jazz festival: Jazzmandu. The festival's name is a blend of “jazz” and “Kathmandu,” the capital of Nepal.
The event has grown since its inception in 2002 with new and prolific artists from across the globe flying into Kathmandu to showcase their talent and experience the unique atmosphere of the Valley. The melange of chosen venues reflects the ethnic and cultural diversity of Nepal and also features performers from around the world.
Jazzmandu this year encapsulated and continued to show the power of music and its ability to bring people together. From the pulsating groove of Plurism’s African rhythms and the mellow emotive voice of Lucile Chriqui to the bright tones of the Samundra band’s rendition of Nepali folk music, this year’s jazz reflected the diversity of this music genre.
A free concert for the students of St Xavier's School in Jawalakhel gave students exposure to the unique delights of jazz. There were concerts at various venues in Kathmandu, Jazz Upstairs and the Dutch group Under The Surface performing at Electric Pagoda with experimental electronic sound. Multinational Palouse Forro performed at Jazz Upstairs, while Swiss South African group Faku took on an intimate set at EDN in Sanepa.
The Jazz Bazaar at Gokarna Forest Resort gave guests a captivating musical showcase with the full Jazzmandu line-up. The historic Baber Mahal heard the rich tradition of Brazilian music. The penultimate evening in Yalamaya Kendra, in the Patan suburb of Kathmandu, was a culmination of the week, with both foreign and Nepali artists performing a magical fusion of Nepali classical music and jazz.
The festival attracted a diverse audience of Kathmandu residents, tourists and expats. Said deputy European Union (EU) ambassador Joëlle Hivonnet: “Jazzmandu is getting better every year. Although it does not attract world-renowned artists like the Montreux or Marciac festivals, it manages to bring upcoming artists and covers a variety of styles. I particularly enjoy bands that mix Nepali and Western instruments.”
The Lucile Chriqui quartet, a formidable new force in French Jazz, ascribed their experience of Jazzmandu and Nepali culture as an experience like no other: “It feels like being on tour in one city.”
The band held a charity concert to raise funds for the burn victims at the Sushma Koirala Memorial Hospital. “It was amazing to perform for such an important cause. We realised the power of music as a tool for connection,” said Chriqui.
The band wants to take back to Paris the special energy and friendliness they experienced from the Nepali volunteers, which inspired them to try and connect more with tourists visiting their own country, and the unique pace of life in Kathmandu especially compared to Paris, where “one hour feels like a minute.”
Chriqui also hopes to continue to experiment sonically, inspired by the timbre of Nepali traditional instruments. “Maybe I’ll also take home a singing bowl too,” she quips.
Next year Nepal’s pioneering music event will turn 20. Co-founder Navin Chettri says, “Initially, we were met with some reluctance and confusion regarding jazz, but now there is no need to explain, Jazzmandu has put both jazz and Kathmandu on the map.”
When asked what’s in store for the special 20th anniversary, Chettri replied gleefully: “No spoilers.”
In contrast to other Jazzmandu evenings, where the setlist was structured to showcase each act separately, Jazz at Patan on November 7 celebrated the cultural exchange between jazz and Nepali classical sounds with musicians from around the world.
The meticulous fusion of repertoires and celebration of cultures abandoned the formulaic composition of “mainstream” music structure, and transgressed genre to create a spiritual and meditative sound described by attendees as “grounding,” “unique” and “irreplicable.”
The lantern-lit evening at Yala Maya Kendra facilitated an intimate experience for attendees who put stress and hunger aside, allowing the technical prowess, professionalism, and self-expression of the bands to remain the focal point of the evening.
Artist Sisonke Xonti highlighted the privilege of performing in front of a live crowd again, a crowd that another artist Nick Aggs described as “the best at Jazzmandu.”
“In order to celebrate the unique sound of each artist, there needs to be a reciprocated level of intimacy and respect between artist and audience,” added Aggs.
Singer Lucile Chriqui was left feeling that the crowd was “truly listening and connected.” She added: “So much energy, so much love represented the very essence of Jazzmandu, which is to connect with people and demonstrate that music is a divine, universal language.”
Guests felt transcendental: one concertgoer was in disbelief at the ability of the artists to champion all instruments and voices and extolled the “inexplicable” connection she felt between everyone within the 100-year-old Rana-era courtyard in Patan.
The evening ended with a standing ovation, and the crowd ambled out of the venue, still processing the magic of what they had witnessed. Jazz at Patan had a multicultural audience and celebrated the oneness of humanity and was an event to be experienced at least once in a lifetime.
]]>Originally published on Global Voices
Two weeks after the most Israel-Hamas conflict began on October 7, thousands of innocents have died on both sides, but families in two faraway Asian countries are also grieving — particularly in Nepal and Thailand.
Ten Nepali students working in Kibbutz Alumim, a border settlement, were killed, and one is still missing, presumed to have been taken hostage. So far, 30 Thai farm workers have also been confirmed killed by Hamas gunmen in the early morning of October 7, and 19 more were abducted.
According to first-hand interviews and reporting from the Nepali Times, the missing Nepali, Bipin Joshi from Dhangadi, was hiding with other Nepali and Thai citizens when Hamas fighters threw a grenade into their bunker. Joshi had the presence of mind to hurl the grenade out, but another one exploded, killing some of the Nepalis and Thais.
The surviving Nepalis and Thais then fled to another nearby bunker that they thought was safer, but Hamas fighters stormed that one too, and sprayed those inside with gunfire. They then kidnapped seven of the Thais as hostages.
Those are among the total 19 Thai nationals who were abducted, and the missing Nepali is suspected to be among them.
This violence is drawing conflicted reactions in Nepal and Thailand. Media commentators in both countries have pointed out that despite the legitimate grievances of the Palestinian people against Israeli occupation, the indiscriminate slaughter of innocent civilians and foreigners by Hamas was counterproductive.
One Nepali man, Rajesh Kumar Swarnakar, spoke to The Guardian about his brother Mukesh Swarnaka, who was killed in the attack. “I am angry. Why was my brother sent to an area of conflict where he was not safe?” he said. “Nepali lives are seen as so cheap. For us, he was the one who could earn money — he was the hope of the family.”
“Hamas has made a bad name for the Palestinian cause, eliciting condemnation and opposition all the way over here in Thailand,” wrote Thitinan Pongsudhirak of Chulalongkorn University in the Bangkok Post. “For the Thai people, Hamas’ killing spree on Thai workers is unfathomable. Thailand has never done anything to harm Hamas nor caused any trouble for the inhabitants of the Palestinian territories.”
Thai media have quoted survivors who have returned who speculate that Hamas may have specifically targeted Thais because some local Palestinians were resentful of foreigners taking their agriculture jobs away from them. The Israeli government started replacing Palestinian farm and construction workers with migrant labor from various Asian countries after a spurt in militant attacks during the 1987 Intifada.
While the Nepalis in Israel were mainly young university students studying agriculture on 11-month “earn and learn” schemes in Israel, most of the Thai workers were long-term farm workers.
There are an estimated 30,000 Thai workers in Israel’s farms, and 8,400 of those in the conflict zone are now asking their government to urgently repatriate them. Some 700 arrived in Bangkok on charter flights on Friday, October 20. The bodies of eight killed Thai workers were also flown in, while the others will be sent home after being identified.
There were 265 Nepali students in various parts of Israel, and 18 of the 10 who were killed were in Kibbutz Alumin. Most of them were repatriated to Kathmandu on a Nepal Airlines flight on October 12. Four of the bodies of Nepalis arrived in Kathmandu on Sunday, October 15.
The Nepalis who were killed were primarily from poor farming families in the remote western districts of Nepal. Most of the Thai farm workers are also from Thailand’s poorest northeastern regions.
In Nepali, stories of good samaritans like caregiver Prabha Ghimire and others, who have helped wounded Nepali workers in hospitals in Tel Aviv have been going viral. There have also reportedly been many Thai women in Israel who have gone out of their way to help their compatriots caught up in the war.
Viphavadi Vannachai, 40, a Thai married to an Israeli citizen, traveled to dangerous areas on the Gaza border to rescue stranded workers, help the wounded, and assist with repatriation of those who wanted to return.
Thai families of those taken hostage have pleaded for their release, saying they had “nothing to do with the Israel-Palestine conflict” and were there “simply there to earn money.”
Originally published on Global Voices
Nepal’s Embassy in Israel has confirmed that 10 Nepali students based at a kibbutz in southern Israel near the Gaza border were killed in the attack by Hamas militants on Saturday October 7, 2023. The incident highlights once more the dangers Nepalis face as the diaspora spreads to war zones around the world.
The ten were among 17 students, all from western Nepal, who were in Israel under the Israeli government’s ‘learn and earn’ program and assigned to the Kibbutz Alumim, which was was attacked by Hamas militants from Gaza.
The Embassy has released the names of the ten, which were widely circulated on social media, with one student still listed as missing. Four others were injured, and two reported to be safe. Earlier reports that Nepalis were among the hostages Hamas took back with them into Gaza have not been confirmed.
On Sunday, October 8, 2023, Nepal’s Foreign Minister Narayan Prakash Saud had met with the Israeli Ambassador in Kathmandu, Hanan Godar, before it became clear that there were Nepalis among the fatalities at the farm.
There are currently 265 agriculture students from various parts of rural Nepal in Israel to gain experience in farming while earning money working on kibbutzes. There are another 5,000 Nepali caregivers serving as nurses for the elderly in Israel.
“Most Nepali students here are frightened and want the Nepal government to fly them home,” Ramesh Joshi, a Nepali worker who is helping with the rescue, told Nepali Times by phone from Israel.
“The fighting was so intense even the ambulance and army couldn’t get to southern Israel. We all had to stay in our bunkers for safety,” added Joshi, who is with the Non-Resident Nepalese Association in Israel.
Nepalis involved in the relief operations said some of the Nepalis who were injured had been calling for help, but even the Israeli Army could not reach them because of the fighting.
Nepali agriculture student Louish Rijal, who spoke to Nepali Times from a bunker somewhere in southern Israel on Sunday evening, said the Nepalis with him were very scared and wanted to be rescued.
“We hear about our friends in other farms dying or injured, and we do not understand why the embassy cannot rescue us. Who is our guardian, the school here, the university in Nepal, our employer, or the government? We are going to die of fear if we keep hiding here.”
This is not the first time that non-combatant Nepalis have been killed in war zones overseas. Twelve Nepalese hostages working in an American facility in Iraq were executed after capture in 2004 by the Ansar al-Sunna group; the video of the killings aired on television sparked riots in Kathmandu.
13 Nepali security guards who were working for a subcontractor recruitment company were killed in a Taliban attack on the Canadian Embassy in Kabul in 2016. The Canadian government was sued and ultimately paid compensation.
“We are still gathering information about exact casualties and relief, from Israel about Nepalis, and we will be sharing that along with the government's response on Monday,” said Sewa Lamsal at the Foreign Ministry in Kathmandu.
The Ministry released a statement on Sunday that condemned the Hamas attack, without naming the Palestinian militant group. It began: “The Government of Nepal strongly condemns the terrorist attack on Israel today … at this critical hour we convey our solidarity with the government of Israel.”
Following is the translation of an audio message from a Nepali student trapped at the Kibbutz Alumim calling for help that is circulating on social media:
A total of 49 of us from Sudur Paschim University were here as part of the learn and earn 11 months internship program. We were happy, we had dreams. But just two days before we were to receive our first paycheck, the Palestinians attacked. Our farm, in particular, wasn’t affected but when we made videos and shared them with the media, we started getting calls from other Nepali students who were shot and were crying for help. We couldn’t do anything. Even our group of 11 has been stuck here in a dark bunker since 7AM yesterday. We don’t have food, just water. But it’s cold in here and we are starting to get sick. We reached out to the embassy and officials but they only have false assurances for us. But is that enough to save our lives? We request all the Nepalis, foreign ministry and leaders of all political parties to rescue us at the earliest. Do not think of us students but rather as your sons and daughters.
Originally published on Global Voices
Tattoos are an integral part of Indigenous and tribal communities worldwide, including South Asia. Whether as a beautification technique or to escape the “evil eyes” of men from other tribes, Indigenous and tribal women have adorned their bodies with tattoo motifs influenced by nature, their history, and their spiritual beliefs.
While the popularity of modern tattoos is increasing among the young generation, the traditional tattoo culture is waning among most Indigenous and tribal peoples. This is further threatened by syncretism and acculturation as they are coming into contact with people from other tribes and places. However, tattoo artists like Amit Arjel are on a mission to trace and document Indian tribal tattoos before they disappear forever.
Delhi-based tattoo artist Arjel, originally from Nepal, has dedicated himself to researching and compiling the tattoo motifs of Indian tribes. He not only wants to document and redraw the faded tattoos worn by tribal women but also wants to publish a book on tribal tattoos from India.
Sanjib Chaudhary from Global Voices caught up with Arjel during his recent visit to Nepal. The interview has been edited for length and clarity:
Global Voices (GV): Can you tell us a bit about yourself? How did you get into tattooing?
Amit Arjel (AA): Actually, I started my career as a painter. I learned painting under some big names in India. When my father passed away in late 2014, things changed for me drastically. I returned to my ancestral home in Nepal to do the death rituals. Thinking of my mother, I decided to take up something that would give me the flexibility to visit her from time to time and spend time with her.
Also, I wanted to dedicate something to my father. So, I designed a tattoo in his memory and came to Delhi looking for a tattoo studio. I stumbled upon Inkinn Tattoo Studio, one of the most popular tattoo studios in Delhi among tattoo enthusiasts. While getting tattooed, the artist suggested that I join the studio.
Mulling over options and finding out that I would have more freedom and flexibility, I decided to join the studio. The artist I’ve learned from is Max.
GV: How did you get the idea of going for traditional tattoos and reviving them?
AA: I had been doing tattoos for two years and all of them were commercial tattoos. However, something inside me was telling me it was not what I wanted to do. I had never copied any artist and always tried to do something original.
I wanted to see what Indian traditions we have. Thus, started my quest to research Indian tribal tattoos. Looking on the internet, I found the Baiga tribe with a rich tattooing tradition. Luckily, I got connected to Shantibai from the tribe through one of my clients. I visited her to learn their tattooing tradition.
Then I went to Surguja in north Chhattisgarh and afterwards met with Bheel people, one of the ethnic groups from western India. Following that, I went to Madhya Pradesh and visited all the Central Indian tribes. Subsequently, I went to Garo people, an ethnic tribe from northeast India.
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GV: What are the differences between tribal and modern tattoos?
AA: Tribal tattoo motifs are completely different from modern tattoos. Tribals make motifs based on their belief systems. They tell the next generation to stick with these motifs and believe in them. They have been getting the same tattoos for centuries and are still following the same culture and tradition, the same patterns and motifs.
However, in the case of modern tattoos, the designs are based on one’s imagination, and they change from time to time and from person to person.
GV: You have been researching many Indian tribes. Can you tell us about some of their unique patterns?’
AA: The tribes from Surguja ink themselves with unique tattoo motifs called Surguja godna. They have a motif called ‘othi’, which represents the uterus and feminine energy.
Another motif I am very fascinated with is ‘sathi godna’ or friendship tattoo. If a person has a friend and wants to get them a tattoo, they have to commission the tattoo for their friend and pay for it.
GV: How do they select the motifs? How are they related to their lives?
AA: Let’s take the case of the Baiga tribe. Before a girl hits puberty, mostly at the age of 8 or 10, she has to get a forehead tattoo. The different tattoo symbols they use represent womanhood and remind the girl that she is approaching womanhood. She is ready to get married and will need to take care of her household and her family.
After that, when she is 15 to 18 years old, she can have a tattoo on her back. So that she can attract a male. The Baiga women’s dress has always been designed in a way to flaunt the back tattoo.
Subsequently, she gets tattoos on both hands, one by one within a year. The hand tattoos remind her that she can be active in the community and participate in their rituals and activities.
When the girl gets married, she can also have tattoos on her legs. It means she is active in every field. And once she has a baby, she can get a chest tattoo. The chest tattoo represents motherhood. Women cannot get a chest tattoo if they aren’t able to give birth to a child. In that case, they can adopt a child and get a chest tattoo. It’s a complete circle — from childhood to womanhood.
GV: Can you tell us about the uniqueness of tattoo culture in other tribes?
AA: The Bheel women get face tattoos to protect themselves from evil eyes and to look more attractive.
Majority of the Tharu women from Sauraha in Nepal have tattoo motifs of ‘majur’ or a peacock. As the peacock was the only symbol of beauty at that time in their tribe, they also wanted to be as beautiful as a peacock.
GV: What are your future plans?
AA: My plan is to compile all Indian tribal motifs. Since the motifs on peoples’ bodies are not clear, I want to redraw them and write a book so that people can see the Indian tribal tattoos in their purest form. Also, I want the tribal tattoo artists to be recognized worldwide.
Knowledge has to be spread to be protected, not only compiled and saved. I want to show people that we have a rich culture and we’ve everything in written form.
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