Nepal in Numbers

By Edwin Koo

2010/07/22

If someone asked me to describe Nepal today, I would be tongue-tied, simply because of the rainy, mucky mess it’s in. To make matters worse, political idiots like me are getting entangled by the big words like “consensus” and “majority” governments. I’m sure these kids as confused as I am.

Nothing much has improved since this picture was taken in March 2008, , except that the political stakes with which politicians wager with, which includes precious funds and time for development.

So I thought the best way is to use numbers to re-organize a little.

Here’s Nepal in Numbers, in a nutshell:

• Madhav Kumar Nepal resigned on 30/06/2010
• The political parties tried to form a consensus government and agree on a new Prime Minister. They missed 2 deadlines in 2 weeks. By 13/07, President Ram Baran Yadav says forget consensus, we go for majority (what’s that again?)
• Nepal’s 601-member Constituent Assembly (which doubles as a Parliament) goes to the voting box to elect a new Prime Minister on 21/07/2010, but there was no majority, so no new Prime Minister
• Why no majority? The next Prime Minister needed a 301-300 margin to win.
• There were 3 candidates in the race: Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) from the Maoists, Jhalanath Khanal from the UML, and Ram Chandra Poudel from Nepali Congress (NC).
• Prachanda got 242 out of 592 votes
• NC’s Paudel had 124 votes in his favour
• Jhalanath Khanal (UML) pulled out, leaving 2 candidates to slug it out. As a result, the election postponed 2 days
• Why did the UML pull out? Because they had 0% chance of winning.
• Maoists have 237 seats (39.4%). UML has 108 (17.9%). NC has 114 (19%).
• The wildcard, really is the Madhesi alliance of parties, which hold 82 (13.6%) seats. Madhesis belong to the Terai plains, and have been long excluded from politics until 2006. They have stayed “neutral” till now.
• So the Maoists really need the Madhesis to have “majority”. 237+82= 319!
• Of course, neither the UML nor the NC wants that to happen. Even if UML and NC join hands, that’s 114+108= 222 (36.9%). So everyone’s wooing the wildcard underdogs, in order to become top dog once again.
• So now we see why Khanal (UML) decided to stay “neutral”. Being neutral means being the 82+108= 190 (31.6%) who can have a higher chance of winning the gambit.  In short, it’s not easy to be King, but easier to be king-makers
• And since the King needs the makers more than the makers need the King, then being king-maker gets you the best bargain. So I expect the king-makers (UML and Madhesis) to be extracting at least 1 pound of flesh from the next King… er hmmm, I mean, Prime Minister.

• In the meantime, while all these numbers are being crunched:
• 49% of children under 5 suffer from stunting
• 26% of rural population have decent toilet facilities
• Average income remains at slightly more than US$1/day
• 1 million people in Kathmandu and many more millions outside the capital struggle to get drinking water everyday

That’s Nepal for you, in numbers. Questions, anyone?

Paani… chhaina? (No water?)

By Edwin Koo

30 June 2010

The monsoon has begun.

Almost every afternoon, rain would descend as butter-bean-sized drops, pelting hard on the unsuspecting pedestrian caught in its sudden outburst.  Welcome: “bad” laundry days.

Still, the monsoon is an apt reminder that we live in the second most water-rich country in the world. Fed by the Himalayan glaciers, mighty rivers feed this country, as well as the entire Indian subcontinent, where a quarter of the world lives.

What may surprise most people then, is this: Katmandu is a thirsty, parched city. The irony is not lost on its 1 million inhabitants, whose taps are dry 90 percent of the time, and water comes in tankers, twice or thrice a week, depending on where you live.

And when such a tanker appears (quite literally, because there is no fixed schedule), chaos ensues. Locals would troop back with containers of every assortment – used lubricant canisters, used paint buckets, and used Coke PET bottles. A riot of colours is only matched by the riot of protests. “Why are you not queueing up?” one would shout. “Hey, you’re taking forever! Its my turn!” another would yell.

They looked like a hundred hungry calves, fighting to suckle on a lone mother’s udders.

It had become an everyday scene in Katmandu, melding into the social consciousness of the easy-going Nepalis. What appeared as a jarring problem that started years ago, had become a way of life, melding into the background. The residents have gotten used to it, save a few grouses.

Residents jostled for water as a 6000-litre water tanker arrives to provide water to its thirsty clients.

But to a foreigner and a photographer, the reality cried out like an absurd scene from a bad comedy.

It’s hard to imagine that water was once a free resource in the Valley of Gods.

Before there was multi-party democracy, there was free water.

The monarchs, no matter how fatuous, made sure that public water taps were built. Hithis, or aqueduct outlets, flowed with so much water that it was painful to stand under one. The same hithis are dry now, thanks to mismanagement of water sources.

Of course, there is the much-vaunted Melamchi project, started in 1998 as an initiative to supply Katmanduites adequate water with its targeted completion back in 2006/2007.  Today, it is still incomplete.

The government project was doomed to fail, its fortunes tumbling along with the political state of Nepal. Presently, experts say it will not complete even by 2013. Ironically, even if it completes by 2012, it would not supply enough water to the burgeoning population of Katmandu.  Urban migration is simply outpacing urban planning and development, if there’s any to speak of in the first place.

And as if water shortage was not enough of a problem, over 47 percent of the piped water supplied to households is unfit for drinking. It is not uncommon to see brown, muddy water belch from public taps.

To make matters worse, upper-middle class households that can afford electric water pumps are piping ground water illegally, reducing the level of the ground water table, increasing the salinity of the soil. Bottled water suppliers are probably the only ones laughing their way to the bank, but even then, 17 of the 37 bottlers in the capital have failed basic tests by government agencies.

As the absurd black comedy plays on in Nepali everyday life, residents are taking showers in stagnant ponds, washing their laundry at murky rivers, and queueing up at public taps at 2am to get substandard potable water.

And we’re not talking about a forgotten backwater village. We’re talking about Katmandu, Valley of Gods,  capital of Nepal.

What now, Nepal?

By Edwin Koo

03 June 2010

It’s been five days since they extended the term of the Constitutional Assembly, and Nepal has, well, returned to state of normalcy.

Meaning the newspapers are once again, filled with stories of bickering politicians making threats and counter-threats, calling each other names and blaming each other for the failures so far. Oh yeah, and the  conspiracy theories. Who doesn’t love a juicy conspiracy?  That’s normalcy in Nepal.

The daily media, it seems, has a fixation with what politicians say, even if they are all saying the same thing – which eventually, says nothing.

About a week ago, when my American friend asked me what I thought would happen to Nepal after May 28 deadline of the CA, I had no answer. Gosh, I couldn’t even punditrify (borrowing George  Bush’s vocab). Feeling a little stupidified (thanks, Bush, I love your vocab) that I couldn’t even hazard an educated guess after 1.5 years in Nepal, I scoured through the dailies to try to find an answer.

I should have looked elsewhere. Anywhere.

The news was filled with punditry of every sort, which probably left the reader more confused before he opened the papers. Here are an example of that punditry:

“With the top three parties failing to come to an agreement on the Constituent Assembly (CA) extension, the country stands to face multiple possibilities – some of them catastrophic.” – Kathmandu Post, May 27, 2010. Page ONE

I was looking forward to seeing what the journalists had to say about the possibilities, especially the “catastrophic” ones. I found more questions than answers. I don’t blame them, since the story was peppered with political rhetoric like this:

“All these issues will likely take time for negotiations and there is every possibility that the parties may adopt intractable positions, leading to renewed stalemate.” – unnamed Nepali Congress leader, quoted in a page one story

Wow, I didn’t know you could “renew” a stalemate, and really, negotiations should “take time”, unless you’re bargaining with a vegetable seller.

All in all, the “crisis , catastrophe and consequences” (or whatever you call it) of a “dead” CA, seem to have been a big media exercise. No one was certain what would happen if the CA was terminated. Or if the CA was extended. Not the Maoists. Not the UML or the NC, and certainly, not the journalists.

As Nepali Times journalist Dewa Rai rightly pointed out: “Truth be told, we haven’t been here before.”

But one thing for sure, the Nepali people are paying for this foul-up. It has already cost Nepal Rs. 1,39,25,32,896 (USD$18.6 million) to shore-up the 2-year-old CA. The 601-member circus… I mean, Constituent Assembly, costs 57,000 rps for each troupe member every month. Sure, most of this moolah comes from “good-meaning” donors who take pity on the fledgling republic. But don’t forget, there is no free lunch, especially when it comes to diplomacy.

You can be very sure that what the donors give Nepal today will be returned as a proverbial pound of flesh tomorrow.  It could be anything – trade concessions, political arm-wrangling. We don’t really know, but it will cost.

So before we talk about air-fairy consequences of what the Nepali leaders are squandering away today, let’s examine the real daily hardship that Nepalis have to endure. Problems like load-shedding (or power outage), water shortage and unemployment will not go away with punditry and bickering.

A shop remains open using candlelight, as the whole street was plunged into darkness during load-shedding. The photo was exposed for a few seconds, so that the image can show what the naked eye can't see. In short, the reality is darker than it seems. 😉

To put everything in perspective, let’s compare Kathmandu to one of the worst places in the world to be in right now: Gaza. The narrow strip of territory with 1.5 million population (rather similar to Kathmandu) has been blockaded by Israel for three years since the Hamas takeover.  Gaza has 35- 60 hours of load shedding. Nepal, at its worst, had 84 hours. Currently, we have 42 hours, thanks to the summer rains.

So, if I may just suggest to Mr Nepal (or “Makune” – short form of Madhav Kumar Nepal – as the current Prime Minister is “affectionately” known by): could we get it over with the CA debate and talk about the real issues?

The real crisis, I’m afraid, will not descend upon Nepal today, but in the near future, when Kathmandu slips further down the rung of The Economist’s “Worst Cities to Live in” tally.

What the Park!

By Edwin Koo

25 May, 2010

“You know what ‘Bhugol’ Park means?” asked my newfound Nepali friend.

“Yeah, its Planet Park right? That’s a globe up there isn’t it?” I said.

“You know why they called it Bhugol Park then?” he pursued.

Got me there. I don’t. The rows and rows of Devanagari script were like ants crawling up and down the monolith. I don’t think many Nepalis even know the significance of this park. In the first place, I don’t think many people knew it is a park.

“This was built to commemorate the rebuilding efforts after the Great Nepal Bihar earthquake. Many people contributed money to rebuild the city and all their receipts are buried here!” declared my enthusiastic friend. He was referring to the most recent and devastating earthquake in Nepal, a 8.4 shocker that killed more than 8,000 people and leveled more than 120,000 buildings, back in 1934 AD. That was a lot of damage, considering the fact that Nepal back in those days didn’t many people and buildings.

But the park’s historical significance was soon lost, as Kathmandu saw wave after wave of urban migrants, who started to claim the park as their own – annexing the park with illegal shacks, public toilets, and litter dumps. Coupled with administrative negligence, the park was allowed to fester, until youth groups came along to reclaim it. My chest-thumping friend was all too eager to relate how they chased away the squatters, cleaned up the park and obtained official permission from the authorities to “take care” of the park.

Today, the park is fenced up, gated, and open only 2 hours in the morning for the public to “take in fresh air”. It was a welcome oasis from the frenetic pace of New Road, a perfect location for a picnic, and of course, for an outdoor exhibition.

The second leg of our exhibition – “Bahini: Life of My Sisters“- was officially open last Saturday, and the turnout was surprising. I suspect the “free admission” had a part to play, but the location was just perfect.

Of all the visitors I talked to, all of them had visited the show “by chance”. Some of them had known about the first leg in the papers, but that was in Nepal Arts Council – a gallery – and it wasn’t exactly the most convenient of locations. So, it was a pleasant surprise that many of those who couldn’t make the gallery, or those who simply weren’t the gallery-going types, managed to catch our exhibition in its “photo-cum-installation art” avatar. Yes, the summer heat is punishing, the temperamental rain showers are annoying, and the glare reflecting off our photo frames – irritatingly distracting. But there was something “organic” about the feel of the exhibition.

Our pictures aimed to show how Nepali girls struggle against their environment to go to school. Our “little sisters”, or bahini, were up against problems such as prejudice, poverty and parental negligence, and yet, their yearning for better lives through education shone through. Bhugol Park resonates that kind of spirit – a ground-up resilience that fought off filth, rot and decay. So it was a perfect fit, albeit unintentional, that the pictures sprung up from the grassy lawns, like blooming flowers after the long harsh winter.

Kathmandu is decaying, many are saying. They are dead right – a city of one million – without proper sewage, waste management, urban zoning, migration control, pollution control measures, water supply, and nary a decent park – is heading down the dumps, literally. The Economist recently ranked it the 8th worst city in the world, following closely behind the likes of Karachi, Kabul, and Mogadishu. Kathmanduites didn’t know what to think of it – those who live here and have been abroad know that the ranking is not unfair, but really, ke garne? (what to do?)

What Kathmandu needs is more Bhugol Parks, and more people who really care about the place they live in. And hopefully it doesn’t take another mega-earthquake to jolt the society into action.

An oasis tucked quietly beside the frenetic New Road in Kathmandu.