Third day of curfew

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Kathmandu is normally loud and noisy, but today everything is quiet. Nobody knows how long the curfew will continue.

Today is the third day of curfew, everyone stay at home and it seems like the whole city is asleep. Actually, it is so quiet I can sometimes hear the roar of the elephant in the Zoo close to where we live. Sometimes we see people on the top of their roofs, looking around at the dead city, only some dogs barking and birds flying around. People who have gardens may sit outdoors, but they are also quiet today. The only activity I can see is when someone is hanging wet clothes to dry on top of their roofs. It really is a dead city. The only thing we can hear are choppers and people turning on their radios when Radio Nepal is transmitting news in the morning and afternoon. We saw one aircraft yesterday leaving Kathmandu, and heard another one today which I could not see. Yesterday we also saw a military jet.

Yesterday afternoon the government lifted the curfew for two hours between 5 and 7 p.m. It was crazy, the whole city of Kathmandu was suddenly on its feet, people were moving fast to the shops to get groceries (or to open their shops), cars and bikes were moving, the streets were full of people, there were lines everywhere. I never experienced anything like it. We were following the news carefully the whole day, afraid to lose the opportunity to go shopping for groceries in case the curfew was lifted. But it really was no problem, because at five o clock the whole town was totally changed within a minute. We walked restless like the others to find a place to buy babyfood, rice, wheat, beans, lenses and all the things we think we will need if a serious situation occurs. I think white people must have been more worried than nepali people because I have never seen so many white folks here at the same time. And the shopkeeper smiled from one ear to another as we left the shop, having emptied our pockets for all our money.

This morning the curfew was also lifted from 6 a.m. to 9.30 a.m. Everything suddenly seemed to be back to normal, people seemed happy and smiling, more shops had managed to open since yesterday, drivers were using their horn like it was some kind of celebration. I relaxed at home with my twisted ancle, while Gard and Kristoffer went out for some air and another big sack of rice. We are talking about what we will need or not in an emergency situation and how it might be. We don´t know how long the curfew will continue. Some people think the curfew will go on for days, others think it might be over on Sunday.

Our didi, Tirta, is telling how people were fighting to get water from an outdoors tap yesterday morning when the curfew was lifted for limited time. And yesterday evening on tv we could see people trying to fill their kettles and casseroles with water dripping from a tube in the rain. Today it was better and more relaxed, Tirta says.

Kathmandu, September 2004

Life after curfew

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You might wonder, like most people, if it is safe to stay in Kathmandu these days, and whatever happened after the curfew.

It seems like I never got around to finish my story on the curfew here in Kathmandu two weeks back. In short, the curfew lasted for five days totally (very strange experience), and it was a very special time for all Kathmandu citizens. After curfew we ask each other «So how was your curfew?» and everyone has different stories to tell. Some people are telling how they were running for one hour to reach home before curfew started, military police with guns following them every step. Some people who were exploited by manpower agencies were happy because they felt they got some kind of revenge. Other people, like myself, enjoyed staying at home with their families, getting some rest, repairing things, taking care of children or doing housework. Going up on the rooftop to see the sun dawn at the quiet city. Others found it hard to do all the housework and caring for the children while the schools were closed and the didis (maids) did not come to work. Most people, however, were worried about lack of income these days, like the salesmen cycling around with fresh bananas and vegetables. The effect on the countrys economy was severe. For me personally it was a positive experience, even though I know the situation was not good for Nepal. After the curfew everything is back to normal. It feels safe and a lot more boring, even if we can enjoy everyday life. Now I don’t bother so much to read the newspaper, things don’t feel that important. During curfew we were constantly listening to radio, watching tv and checking newspapers on the internet.

Kathmandu, September 2004

American peace core pulling out

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Daniel, the american peace core volunteer at NEFEJ, where I work, has been forced to go home due to the security situation. Friday one week ago somebody threw a bomb outside the American Centre here in Kathmandu. It was just a small bomb, they say, but it was different from the others which have been used by maoists in Kathmandu earlier. This one contained spikes and things, designed to hurt people. Anyway, the bomb was only thrown outside the building and nobody was hurt, but after this the american embassy decided to shut down all voluntary peace core activities in Nepal. It is not only because of this single bomb, however. The last period several of the american peace core representants different places in the countryside have had visit from maoists telling them to leave. Also, a few days back a bomb hit a bridge here in Kathmandu, and 19 people were hurt. It is an historical event, since the american peace core have been here since 1962. Anyway, Daniel had to go, even if he feels safe and wants to continue working here. So now there is only one foreigner working at NEFEJ, me, and I can´t help but feeling a bit lonely today.

Kathmandu, September, 2004

Capturing the mood of the country

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A family washing carrots in the river, a young girl licking the blood from a buffalo head during festival, the wrinkled grin of an old man, a woman carrying fodder, the deserted landscape of the high mountains. 205 nepalese photographers have tried to capture the essence of their country in the first national photo competition ever to be held in Nepal. This historical event took place at Nepal Art Council Gallery on the 3rd of December 2004, held under the banner of the Shangri-La inflight magazine and Royal Nepal Airlines. Some of the images were among the finest expressions of art, seducing and hypnotizing the viewer, many of them were snapshots of festivals and nature, but together they formed a fascinating and intriguing picture of the landscape Nepal.

Nepal Kaleidoskope is the first photocompetition of its kind, being held as a national competition including all districts and on a high level. 410 pictures were evaluated by five competent judges. The first price including two return ticets for Bangkok and Rs. 50.000 rupees was won by Rabi Kiran Bajracharaya, who generously donated the money to The Photoclub to honor the seniors of photography in Nepal, for making it easier for people like himself to follow them.

Bajracharaya, who was among 205 photographers taking part in the competition, had sent two pictures for evaluation, one portraying traditional dance, the other one portraying the festival of new years celebration in Kathmandu. The latter won the price for beutifully captering the the dramatical and emotional moment when people gathered around the chariot at Kathmandu Durbar Square to celebrate the coming new year. Bajracharaya who has had his own camera since he was only nine years old, was very happy to receive the price. He says it is the first time for him to win a price like this.

  • We chose to put the main emphasis on what really reflects Nepal as a country, said one of the five judges Narayan Wagle, editor of Kantipur Daily, after the event. Kisthor Kayastha won the second price and the third price was won by Dinesh Shrestha. A special award was given to Amrit Bajrachrarya for being the most promising photographer, and a certificate was awarded Kabi Raj Karki from the district of Mugu for the special efforts he had made to join the competition, as the intention of the Nepal Kaleidoskope was to promote and encourage photographing throughout the country, while promoting Nepal as a destination for travelers.

I asked Wagle, whom we met looking content at alle the enlarged photos lined up at the Nepal Art Council Gallery, why they chose Bajracharaya as the winner.
– Bajracharaya has beautyfully captured the moment, the picture is technically brilliant and it is consistent with the focus of the Kaleidoskope, which is to capture the essence of Nepal.

The photographers we talked to who did not receive a price, hope there will be a new chance next year and that the Nepal Kaleidoskope will become an annual event.

Kathmandu, December 2004

Interpreter: Bhupendra Basnet. Pictures: Margunn Grønn and Gard Weibye

Just another perfect day

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One thing has to be clear already from the beginning: Kathmandu is not even remotely possible to describe in words. Take this morning, for instance.

At six o clock the show begins. A cow says «Mouuuuuuuhhhhh» from somewhere close to our bedroom window; we don´t know from where, she could be virtually anywhere, since cows are holy and therefore can move around as they please. Even if it is in the middle of the road during rush hour, in a football field or in some poor farmers corn field. My nepali friends tell me they can do nothing about the cows, they just have to stop whatever they are doing and pray. «Because she is our god» they say and laugh with a big grin on their faces.

Anyway, the next thing we have before us is the entry of the bells. This also happens every morning. Our neighbours are praying for their families´ life and health while sacrificing some flowers and may be rice and burning some oil, maybe also incense. Women here pray a lot for their husbands, especially during different festivals when they were red tika on the forehead and red bracelets which also has to do with their husbands´ fortune. I don´t know if hindu husbands pray for their wives, I was told not to ask hindu men this question… I was also told that some women for different reasons need to pray extra for their husbands. Domestic violence, alcohol abuse and sexual harrasment are common news here. It really is a mans´ world, at least for the time being. But things may change. At least in Kathmandu these days so many girls are getting the same education as the boys.

Ok, so we are still in bed, listening to the cow and the bells. Suddenly we hear a familiar voice which kind of resembles the one of Donald Duck (if you have seen the old Donald Duck movies). The voice belongs to one of the local salesmen on bike, performing his morning round in our neighbourhood, just as he does every day. My nepali is insufficient to understand what he is saying, but it goes something like: «Potatoes, corn, rice, tomatoes and bananaaaaa. Potatoes, corn, rice, tomatoes and bananaaaaa.» Over and over again in a singing voice. This man is only one of several guys who moves around on bike with a big basket full of different groceries. (Why he is twisting is voice I don’t know.) We can buy all kinds of stuff from our balcony in the morning: blankets, skarfs, vegetable, fruit, melons, mango, cucumber, toys, bracelets, drums, spices and I don´t know what.

At this point children are climbing out of their floor mattress beds and going out to play. Loudly. Two of them starts to pick a fight, and it all ends in screaming and crying. Suddenly we hear a big roar. Kristoffer, our ten months old son, has just woken up and wants to be with his parents. After some negotiations, one of us stumble out of bed, mourning. After a while I suddenly remember something and run over to the biggest window, just in case. Every day now it is getting easier to get a glimpse of the impressive Himalayan peaks through the monsoon fog.

In the evening after eight o clock, when Kristoffer has fallen to sleep and it is coal black outdoors, we gasp at Star Movies, enjoy the last chocolate from our local «Pasal» (import from India), and agree that it has just been another perfect day in the green Valley of Kathmandu.

Kathmandu, August 2004

What is a good woman?

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I meet her at her office in Ekantakuna, where Saneharika Samula runs its recourse center. Bandana Rana is the president of Women Communicators Group and the vice president of SAATHI, an organization working against domestic violence. In between these jobs she reads news at Nepal Television, she is active in social work and the mother of two children. Most of her time, however, is spent on working for the women of Nepal.

In the hallway there are posters displaying womens possibilities to work for peace and how women refugees suffer a lot. The recourse center is really a library room where more than 100 women journalist members can come to read, share their experiences and discuss. I curiously glance at the secretary who is busy looking at the webpage of Unifem, just above her head the wallpaper is decorated with an article on womens poor representation in the media as well as a poem called “How to recognize a good woman”. I read that a good woman is a proud woman who knows what she wants, is not afraid to express her own needs and does not need to find recognition in others. The door opens. Rana looks relaxed behind her great desk, excuses herself for being late and orders hot water to help her soar throat.

  • How did it happen that you started working on womens issues? I ask, knowing that this woman could have lived an easier life minding her own business.
  • I have been very fortunate. First of all I was born in the city, I had good education and a liberal family. But even in my family I experienced discrimination. My brothers were sent to India to have their education and could do whatever they wanted. When I started my work in the eighties, I got the opportunity to go to several rural areas in Nepal and I saw the plight of women. They could not speak in front of men, they had to carry the wood for fuel, prepare the food, care for the children and serve the men, they had to plough the fields and carry heavy buckets of water from distant places. The women I met had a very heavy burden of work, some of them working up till 18 hours per day. Men would work less hours, and some of them were gambling and playing. I realized how lucky and fortunate I was and I thought to myself: If we do not work for these women – who will?

  • In your opinion, what is the most important issue for women in Nepal today?
  • The most important issue is self identity. Most Nepalese women do not have their own identity. Their identity is always linked to the relation to men, first as a daughter, second as a wife and then as a mother. Few women are economically independent and because of that they have no self confidence – they feel insecure. Nepalese society is a patriarchal society, the power lies in hand of the male. In this culture women experience a lot of violence and because they are insecure, they feel they have to bear the violence – they blame themselves for the violence they experience.

Nine years ago the other organization Rana is working for, SAATHI, established a shelter for abused women. Later they have also started a shelter and a drop-in-center for street-children.  They are also responsible for doing a report on women and violence in Nepal, showing that 77 per cent of the women have experienced some kind of violence in their home.

  • How can this situation be changed? The answer to this rather complicated question comes surprisingly rapid.
  • Through awareness raising, education, capacity building and societal change for improving the identity of women and bringing them to the mainstream of development. If you look at the state, there is almost 50 per cent women, but in the political structure of the state there are hardly any, in the civil service there are hardly any, in decision making and policy making bodies you do not see women. And because of this the policies made are also not suitable for women. Only today we have as much as 108 legislations that are discriminatory to women.

  • But where to start?
  • We have to start in the home itself. If you are a daughter, there is no rejoice in the home when you are born. The daughter does not belong there, she will go to her husbands home anyway, and even there she does not really belong, because her identity is linked with her husband only. Society and attitudes should change so that society look upon girls as equal to boys. There should be no difference between sons and daughters. The women who experience violence in their homes should be able to go to court and find justice.
  • Do you have a dream?
  • Yes, I have a dream. I have a dream to feel free of all inabitions in life, free to think for myself, free to implement what I want to implement, free to do what I want to do. It is not a dream for myself, but a dream I have for all Nepalese women.

Kathmandu, November 2004

Debi needs a loan

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  •  I would like to have a small shop, Debi (35) says. We are sitting in her café, which is on the way to Sarangkot, just where the path is making a turn towards left, and you can see that another hill has to be climbed before you can reach the peak. The surroundings are pitoresque like in a tourist poster from Nepal, the spectacular Fishtale (Machapuchare) mountain dominating the background.

In these beautiful surroundings people are experiencing hard times. In the morning at five o clock Debi follows the steep path down to buy new refreshments for the tourists. From the bottles she carries up the hills on her back, she can make five rupees each, all depending on how much the tourists are willing to pay. These days all of her neighbours are competing very hard to get as much money from the tourists as possible. But most of the few tourists who come, pass without a word, annoyed with the unwanted atttention.

After Debis morning trip, she cooks dhaalbhaat (rice dish) for her familiy, before she starts a long working day with farming and houshold work. All of this to be able to send the children to school which is very costly near to Pokhara.

At first I hesitate to stop by the small, dark stone house, as I do not expect to find anything to drink which my stomach can take. Debi then brings me into her cafë, which is really the ground floor of her home, where she has made a small counter with different kinds of snacks and refreshments.

  • Where is your husband? I ask her.
  • He is in Pokhara, Debi answers.
  • Is he working there?
  • No.
  • He is unemployed?
  • Yes.

Debi has three children, one son and two daughters. All of them are going to school. It is a very hard job to raise all the money which is necessary for this purpose, but somehow Debi and her husband have managed to. Their home is situated just where a lazy tourist might start to feel tired.

  • The problem here in Nepal is that we do not have any money, she explains. – That is our problem here.
  • What do you think about your country?
  • I would like everything to become like before.

Debi is referring to the Maoist insurgency which has now lasted for nine years already. Since that time people in Sarangkot, like so many people in Pokhara, have been virtually put out of business. Because of the political situation tourists stopped coming to Nepal, and people have been losing their income. All along the path children are asking for food or money. They are used to seeing tourists with expensive watches and shoes, high incomes and freedom to travel. They are struggling to survive, as they have become used to higher incomes during the better days, when the Annapurna Mountain area was crowded with joyful tourists.

  • What would you like to do if you had power in Nepal? I ask.
  • We do not have any power.
  • But you can vote freely?
  • No, it is not possible.

It is not customary to show up in this place and start asking these type of questions. The neighbours at this time start coming to see who is this person talking to Debi and what does she want. An old man with a topi hat is standing in the doorway. In the beginning he is listening and looking from a distance, but soon he moves closer to our table. Denis daughter, who is doing the translation, starts giving short answers. Now she almost stopped translating at all. She looks down and into the wooden table.

  • I would like to have a tourist shop, Debi suddenly says. – With some souvenirs and artisans, maybe. May be even some clothing. Anything really. The problem is just that we can not get loans. We have a bank account, but there is no loaning system here. I am ready to do any kind of work. Anything. You name it.

Pokhara, November 2004

How to escape

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Ramesh (35) has come to Pokhara from Chitwan where the local Maoist group demands that every family who has at least two sons should sacrifice one of them to their militia. His days in Pokhara are full of work and thoughts about how to find a better way of life.

Ramesh (35) is one of many who have been internally displaced due to the Maoist insurgency. The Maoist movement is controlling the rural area Nepal, which is most of the country. There are today hundreds and thousands of people living in district headquarters or in the capital as internally displaced persons. They have left their homes because of fear. As a new year is about to start, the Maoist movement is controlling the rural area of Nepal, which is most of the country. The war has lasted nine long years and demanded about 11.000 casualties.

Ramesh, like many others with him, is working in the tourist industry in Pokhara. He is manager of the staff in one of the hotels, one of the few that are still coping well, even with the decreasing number of tourists coming. Maybe it has to do with the green and clean surroundings or maybe it is simply because of the perfect service the hotel can offer, much thanks to Ramesh himself. At five in the morning he can be seen moving up and down stairs, looking to his right and left, inspecting the facilities. If there is a cigarette or a towel out of place, he will be sure to locate it and have it removed. If a spoon or a napkin is missing in one of the tables, he will notice before the guest does and kindly instruct the staff to provide the missing item.

Rameshs life has not always been like this. He used to live in a village in Chitwan where life was peaceful and quiet and future seemed bright. These days, however, the Maoist forces in Chitwan arrive in the evening in the homes of the local people, to ask for food, supplies or for new soldiers. If the family has more than one son, one of them has to join their forces. Ramesh has two brothers and no wish to become a gerilla soldier in the Chitwan jungle.

  • Can you go back to Chitwan? I ask, knowing that his old parents are still living there without being able to see their grandchildren.
  • No, it can be dangerous.
  • What do you think the government should do about the situation?
  • Some of the demands the Maoists are making are reasonable, like abolishing the caste system and improving conditions for the poor, the landless and the people living in rural areas. The government should give the Maoists some of the things they want, so that peace can be restored.

Due to the difficult situation in Nepal, many people would like to leave the country, as they see no future for themselves staying here. Even if Ramesh has a nice job, he would also like to seek employment in a foreign country.

  • I would like to go to another country to work, but it is hard to get the money and visa necessary, he says.

Pokhara, September 2004

Children at the brick factory

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  • We will work as much as we can, even if we have to die for the food. It’s all right. That’s how our life goes, day by day.

We meet the family at Bharak Brick Factory, one of 115 brick factories in the Kathmandu Valley, where people come from rural areas to work. Here, 6-700 people work around the clock for four dimes a day.

  • Every night at two o clock, we get up and start working. We work until four o’clock in the afternoon. Then we take a break before we work untill nine in the evening. In total, there will be 900 rupees a week, but it’s not enough to survive, everything is spent on food, Kamala Giri (30) says. She has covered her head with a scarf against the strong sun.
  • We have to fight hard just to survive. It’s terribly exhausting.

The factory looms over a large area. In the middle there is a tall chimney pipe which is being moved as the work proceeds. A gentle puff of breath can be felt from the mountains, there is quiet but hectic activity like in an anthill. On the ground there is red sand which swirls up like dust as we go. In many places, the ground is completely dug out and there’s only hard, sticky blue clay left. In one of these holes we find a little girl, she is standing there wearing a dress. She steps around in hard blue clay, looking sad.

  • Hey, sweetie, what’s your name? my friend, Rajendra ask.

No answer. She looks serious. The girl is seven years old and named Arati. In the immediate vicinity, her parents and the twelve-year-old sister, Malati, are working. They make clumps of clay which they push into a wooden form. Then they knock loose the clay using dry sand and add the finished square molds to dry in the sun.

  • Our little girl is sick today. She has a fever, the mother says looking strictly at us.

The family has four young children, but no one to look after them while they work, and no possibilities to send them to school. The two-year-old girl Pooja is tired of being overlooked. Now she’s lied down in the sun screaming. She’s hungry, but nobody cares until Malati finally runs and takes her in her arms.

The mother, Kamala, puts the stones to dry before she takes up the screaming girl and breastfeeds her.

The family are seasonal workers, they have a small patch of land in Rameshap on which they can survive only half the year. Then they come to Kathmandu to make bricks. They’ve done that for 15 years now.

Inside a small brick shack, where they live and sleep, where there is hardly space for all six, they can talk more freely. I barely get in through the little door.

  • Do you get food here or do you have to buy it yourself?
  • We have to buy it ourselves and then we make it here.
  • It must be terribly cold in the winter, I say, looking towards the big holes under the roof. Do you get sick a ot during winter time?
  • Yes, it’s getting cold here, but in the winter we’re actually pretty healthy. It’s in the summer time we get sick. Then we get food poisoning, fever and cough because of all the dust, Kamala says.
  • What do you think about working at the factory here?
  • It’s okay, the father, Badri Giri (35) says. – We take the work we get. We will work as much as we can, if we are to die for the food. That’s how our lives go, day by day.

Kathmandu, April 2005. Interpreter: Rajendra KC

The richest country in the world

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I have now stayed in Nepal eleven months, and one thing can be said for sure; the more I learn, the more uncertain and confused I become. The first period of my stay, I found Nepal to be a truly rich and happy place, rich in the sense that people seemed to pay a lot of positive attention to another, being friendly and supportive to one another. The first article I sent to Norway was called “The richest country in the world”. It was a documentary on my first encounter with Nepal.

Nepal is often classified as one of the poorest countries in the world. But it is one of the richest when it comes to biological diversity, wild life, natural resources and cultural diversity. Poverty is measured by what people live on, and here people manage with few rupees per day.

I learnt several things from working in a nepalese office. Nepalese people don’t feel the need for privacy and private space like western people do. Actually they might be very concerned if you withdraw from the social atmosphere. One thing is for sure: they complain less and smile more than us. Ke garne? What to do? is a known expression here.

As days go by I realize I will miss Nepal, the good climate, the nice food and all the friendly and generous people who always have time for a tea, a chat and a laugh. I will miss peoples openness, their ability to relax and smile through all their miseries.

The conflict in Nepal has escalated while I have been here. People are looking for a solution. One man expressed to me what I think many people are feeling: “We don´t need democracy anymore. We only need peace.”

When I came to Nepal, my son, Kristoffer, was nine months old and I would breastfeed during lunchbreaks before running home at five. Now Kristoffer is a big boy, dancing and acting like a nepali boy. He is more interested in his friends than in his mother these days. I only hope he will become as generous and friendly as all the nice people I met in Nepal, whom I will remember when I go back to Norway.

Kathmandu, May 2005