June 21, 2010 post by Dragica
It is Monday and I am ready for action at my internship. Walking to the office this morning, I contemplated my biggest challenge – what will happen when I receive all the documents on victims’ groups’ activity in NEPALI? A HUGE challenge (Fucillo huge, Kim). At the moment, I am scared to look at time on my watch (mid-morning). The day of action is slow in waiting (on Nepali time again).
On Friday, my department coordinator returned from the field visit and I was eager to complete my Terms of Reference, getting everyone on the same page with my project, and launching it big time – “let’s meet on Monday”. Ok, Monday. A day for action. Every hour of my short-term summer internship is precious, and last week (while waiting for him to come back from the field), I edited and expanded upon the Transitional Justice Department Operational Manual where I was able to use my knowledge of the field, and fine-tune it to what I know from the side of academics. I worked with the director on this, and she was happy with my comments, incorporating them all! Ok, the project.. he has my draft ToR in hand; I have my questions for him printed, but another meeting happened in the meantime. He is coming back in 10 minutes – 30 minutes ago. There is only so far my initiative can take me. Nepali time.
International Crisis Group Crisis (“Blunt for Blunt” in Nepal)
As I knew they would be, NGO’s in Nepal are very different from those I helped run in the U.S. We never had private cars, canteens, 5-story offices, servants? This is truly an industry of its own kind. They have a lot of potential, but as I have been doing with Nepali politics (political parties, politicians), I am taking them with a grain of salt as well.
Last week, we met the head of the International Crisis Group here in Nepal at his office with a planned dinner after in Lalitpur. Preceded by a week’s worth of meeting cordial, polite, respectful and collegiate academics, politicians (even when they did not directly address our questions/concerns, they presented their views in a polite manner), this was the first interaction that I felt thrown off by, and very critical of. I realized that when a great amount of experience and intelligence is coupled with arrogance and “pompousness,” it is worth very little.
My skepticism and defense stems from two places – one is a person, in such a poor language at that, criticizing the entire international community (especially the UN), all other partner organizations and donors, acting as the only “enlightened body” on Nepal bound for reforming the entire fields of political science and anthropology here, and the second is the said person attacking an entire field of transitional justice with complete authority and conclusiveness in an overly-simplified manner, mind you! As a young scholar interested in the same topic, looking at the conceptualizations in the field, the approaches and gaps for further study, I felt a natural defense, even though my personal conviction in the importance or the existence of the discipline was unshaken. In spite of my reaction, I have tentative plans to continue the debate with this person who put me on the spot in front of my entire group asking me to define the term “transitional justice” and attacking the term “transition” among other comments.
What makes the academics and practitioners in the field respectable, from what I know thus far, is their awareness and self-critique of the conceptual and normative problems in the field. What I took away from this “crisis” meeting, along with a grain of bitterness that inevitably spilled itself in this entry, is the ability to decipher a surface perspective from the one deeply rooted in the knowledge about the argued subject (and how easily one can appear naïve), along with a reminder of the importance of critical inquiry that The New School (and Cornell) have instilled in me. Nothing is as it appears. In fact, if everything that is said by the politicians and activists in Nepal came true, the country would become an instant utopia.
This is my concern – everyone is very good at saying exactly the right thing, but the rhetoric is cheap when people are waiting for results. With NGO’s, I understand that a lot of their language and actions conform to the donors (they need the money after all). This is where the danger lies. For instance, amidst the above-mentioned exercise of editing my department’s manual, I was seeing how the concept was being defined by my organization and framework adopted, and from an academic standpoint, having studied the field for 10 months now, I was already seeing the misinterpretations, and something that seemingly could have been copied from a workshop on transitional justice. I was afraid that before they even understood the concept, somebody had instructed them to adopt this in their programming.
On the one hand, I see the imports of external ideas about peacebuilding, etc. (bad!). On the other, I see a root of a new policy that could thrive here in Nepal (or do harm, bad!). These are serious concerns. Lesson: Try to look beneath the surface, and learn how to identify what is the layer that hides it, who created it, and why.
-
One blog post later, still waiting. Nepali time.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Newly emerging female Japanese tempo driver in Kathmandu Valley...maybe
I like the tempo the best. It’s the ratty ‘ol three-wheeler that fits 10 passengers on a regular load, about 14 on a super busy-we need to step it up and make more money sort of load. It’s more satisfying to beat on its clunky metal roof, the signal we use when we want to get off, than on that of a micro. The micro’s short for micro bus, one of those vans that seat maybe 10 people in the States. In Nepal some clever interior manipulation has been done and it will hold anywhere from 18 to 25 people, the latter involving some major twisting of limbs and hunching over. You can absolutely get your daily yoga on if you manage to squish into one during rush hour. This micro has some soggy lining on the ceiling that makes the beating experience notches below the tempo. Air flow within the vehicle is usually non-existent and the heat and sweat generated is not for the faint of heart. The only thing that may be worth it is to sit right by the guy who collects the money, opens/closes the door and yells out destinations aka the conductor. He also seems to have another job, which is to hang out the window and frantically wave other vehicles and things away from smashing into the side. It seems to work. Strangely enough, I haven’t heard any crashing sounds on the streets yet. If you’re lucky enough to have someone that can translate, or if you’ve been secretly perfecting those Nepali skills, you may hear these conductors trying to get passengers by saying that they are the last micro headed for that certain destination. I’m eager to hear of other lies they conjure up, those sly businessmen. How brilliant.
You learn to intently focus on your surroundings here. Not like in the US or Japan where you can go on having no clue what goes on between your starting point A and destination point B for the 30 years of your commute, because a voice (both automated and human) will tell you when exactly you need to get off. In Nepal, observation and detail become your second nature. The street names are obscure and destinations are entrenched in local jargon. Walking to my internship is the same. I find myself constantly praying that no one decided to repaint that wall or that gate a different color. Kalpana told me that if someone is coming to the office for the first time, they would have no choice but to take the one route that goes past major landmarks. Never mind that so many streets lead to it – the only explainable one is the one where you turn at the sign for the Sri Lankan Embassy and continue in some relation to the famous temple in the area.
The prize that comes in exchange for convenience is an intense connection to the city that you are a part of. The labyrinth of wide, narrow, rocky, dusty…they all flow through your body like veins. You move through the heat and smog as part of it. The tempo doesn’t provide any shelter like an air-conditioned subway or cab in New York, it just gives you wheels. You know if the rain is coming, because you smell it in the wind. You know when you’re nearing a chowk, because you feel the tempo dodging people more frequently.
I’m a pro at this public transportation now, completely self-proclaimed and topped with a naïve foreigner grin. A little over one out of every two attempts gets me to my destination, and I swear the statistics are rapidly changing in my favor. For being here for two weeks, I call that success. Then of course, I always manage to bang my head as I get on and off the tempo. That totally messes up my flow, not to mention it blows my cover as a pseudo-local. It’s also when the drivers are courteous enough to ask everyone where they are going, when my cool Nepali façade is ripped away. Chakrapath, Naryan Gopal chowk, Maharajganj. Thamel, Jawalakhel, Pulchowk, Bhatbhateni, Ratna Park, Sundhara. The names of places I can deal with, thanks to my religious studying of the Kathmandu Valley map every night. When the drivers get even nicer and start asking things in detail, then it’s all over. But I’m not afraid to get lost here – I feel that term is so irrelevant, like it is in Manhattan.
Check back with me in another week – I may be considering becoming a driver for tempo route 5.
You learn to intently focus on your surroundings here. Not like in the US or Japan where you can go on having no clue what goes on between your starting point A and destination point B for the 30 years of your commute, because a voice (both automated and human) will tell you when exactly you need to get off. In Nepal, observation and detail become your second nature. The street names are obscure and destinations are entrenched in local jargon. Walking to my internship is the same. I find myself constantly praying that no one decided to repaint that wall or that gate a different color. Kalpana told me that if someone is coming to the office for the first time, they would have no choice but to take the one route that goes past major landmarks. Never mind that so many streets lead to it – the only explainable one is the one where you turn at the sign for the Sri Lankan Embassy and continue in some relation to the famous temple in the area.
The prize that comes in exchange for convenience is an intense connection to the city that you are a part of. The labyrinth of wide, narrow, rocky, dusty…they all flow through your body like veins. You move through the heat and smog as part of it. The tempo doesn’t provide any shelter like an air-conditioned subway or cab in New York, it just gives you wheels. You know if the rain is coming, because you smell it in the wind. You know when you’re nearing a chowk, because you feel the tempo dodging people more frequently.
I’m a pro at this public transportation now, completely self-proclaimed and topped with a naïve foreigner grin. A little over one out of every two attempts gets me to my destination, and I swear the statistics are rapidly changing in my favor. For being here for two weeks, I call that success. Then of course, I always manage to bang my head as I get on and off the tempo. That totally messes up my flow, not to mention it blows my cover as a pseudo-local. It’s also when the drivers are courteous enough to ask everyone where they are going, when my cool Nepali façade is ripped away. Chakrapath, Naryan Gopal chowk, Maharajganj. Thamel, Jawalakhel, Pulchowk, Bhatbhateni, Ratna Park, Sundhara. The names of places I can deal with, thanks to my religious studying of the Kathmandu Valley map every night. When the drivers get even nicer and start asking things in detail, then it’s all over. But I’m not afraid to get lost here – I feel that term is so irrelevant, like it is in Manhattan.
Check back with me in another week – I may be considering becoming a driver for tempo route 5.
Friday, June 18, 2010
bOiled pOtatOes
Sometimes I feel that living in New York has spoiled me, and has raised my expectations from those who work in the service sector. NY’s waiters are usually efficient, faultless and extremely fast. My Starbucks’caramel macchiato coffee with soy milk has always the same taste, and always meets my expectation. Moreover, it is regularly served to me with a tremendously cordial smile - yet, a recent study has shown that a sincere smile never lasts less than 1 second and more than 4 seconds.
Here in Nepal, I am realizing how Manhattan is another kind of world.
I’ve felt sick since the second day of my arriving in Kathmandu, which is kind of annoying because I almost never had dinner with my fellows outside. Thus, one of my first nights I asked to the reception of the hotel I was staying in if they please could bring to my room two boiled potatoes. Instead of hearing a NY-style reply, such as a convinced: “Sure, 2 boiled potatoes for Mrs. Pietrogrande” and then seeing the waiter run fast to the kitchen to give the order, I experienced that kind of answer from Paras (the guy of the hotel): “Oooooooooh”. Followed by a long staring at me, and his sweet, huge, sincere 3-seconds smile, bigger than his face. “Yes” I then answered with an unexpected confused tone, like if I was justifying myself for the “weird” order. “Hunchha” (that means something like “ok”) said the shy waiter, and instead of going to the kitchen, he waited for me to go upstairs. Hunchha...
20 minutes later he knocked at my door, with the same sweet, huge, 3-seconds long sincere smile, again staring at me. He held a small plate with two potatoes. Two potatoes with all their brown skin. And nothing else. Two potatoes and that’s it. Not a fork, not a knife, a tray, a napkin. Now: my room happens to be at the 5th floor and I felt really bad to ask Paras to bring me at least a fork. And he got that big sincere smile.. Paras still standing in front of my door with the small plate, I briefly considered the idea of eating the skin-potatoes in some original way instead of asking Paras to go all the way down to bring me a fork. But the imaginary scenario of me eating my potatoes with eye-brown tweezers convinced me to ask for cutlery. “Oooooooooh”. Hunchha...
The night after, I needed hot water to dissolve my new powder medicine. I called from my room the reception because I felt too weak to go down. A similar “Oooooooooh” came from the telephone’s receiver. 45 minutes later - 45 minutes later!!! - a younger boy knocked on my door. He held a tea-pot full of hot water. That’s all. Nothing else. Not a cup. Not a spoon.
That time I stayed with my tea-pot. I melt the medicine using the back of my brush-teeth, directly in the tea-pot. At the end of the day, I was happy for receiving a sincere smile. And repeating in my mind the lesson learned: never give for granted anything, neither a spoon.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
1. Oh, right…. that’s what governments do
You don’t really think about all of the things that a government is responsible for until you notice something is missing. For me, one of the major things that I have noticed in Nepal is the complete lack of garbage cans. I happen to live in a nice area of town, and I would say that the amount of trash on the streets is less than in other areas I have seen, but even so. The amount of time I have spent carrying around trash, looking for a place to throw it, seems a bit ridiculous. At one point I asked why it was that there was nowhere to put all the waste and the answer I got was that there had been garbage cans at one point, but they have since been stolen for the metal and don’t get replaced because there is no municipal government. Having to be conscious of such simple things as what to do with my empty water bottle has been a constant reminder of the easy yet profoundly useful things that are tasked to a government.
2. Functional (non) chaos
I was excited to hear Rhoderick Chalmers, the director of the International Crisis Group in Nepal, mention that there was no anarchy in Nepal, that in fact what seems like chaos is not actually so, because I had just been thinking about that same point and talking it over with Cecilia as we were making our way over to the ICG office. We were talking about it in regard to the way in which the interaction between people and cars on the streets seems to work. From the outside it seems pretty impressive that the population still manages to grow despite what seems like it should be inevitable death for most, if not all pedestrians. But in reality there are rules. I’m still not totally sure what they are, and I don’t know if all Nepalis do either, but somehow I feel like I am generally able to follow them. I am even beginning to appreciate the incessant honking because I understand that it is really just the car’s way of saying “hey, I’m here… ok bye.”
You don’t really think about all of the things that a government is responsible for until you notice something is missing. For me, one of the major things that I have noticed in Nepal is the complete lack of garbage cans. I happen to live in a nice area of town, and I would say that the amount of trash on the streets is less than in other areas I have seen, but even so. The amount of time I have spent carrying around trash, looking for a place to throw it, seems a bit ridiculous. At one point I asked why it was that there was nowhere to put all the waste and the answer I got was that there had been garbage cans at one point, but they have since been stolen for the metal and don’t get replaced because there is no municipal government. Having to be conscious of such simple things as what to do with my empty water bottle has been a constant reminder of the easy yet profoundly useful things that are tasked to a government.
2. Functional (non) chaos
I was excited to hear Rhoderick Chalmers, the director of the International Crisis Group in Nepal, mention that there was no anarchy in Nepal, that in fact what seems like chaos is not actually so, because I had just been thinking about that same point and talking it over with Cecilia as we were making our way over to the ICG office. We were talking about it in regard to the way in which the interaction between people and cars on the streets seems to work. From the outside it seems pretty impressive that the population still manages to grow despite what seems like it should be inevitable death for most, if not all pedestrians. But in reality there are rules. I’m still not totally sure what they are, and I don’t know if all Nepalis do either, but somehow I feel like I am generally able to follow them. I am even beginning to appreciate the incessant honking because I understand that it is really just the car’s way of saying “hey, I’m here… ok bye.”
Coming together
Things are coming together - at least in my head. My thoughts are formulating and my questions are getting more particular so that I can get the kind of information that I’m looking for.
This is a good, if not a big step. Its at least in the right direction. I’ve gotten comfortable in my home stay and have an easy walk to my work-base (its not an internship, its more of a place where I can come and get advice and lately a good place for internet connection as well) and relatively quiet days which are full of contemplation.
Since starting here at INHURED I’ve edited some translations of interviews with Bhutanese refugees, edited a proposal for a new project to the Australian development agency, and edited the proposed script to OHCHR for a docudrama on transitional justice. All of which have been immensely educating and interesting. I also sat in on a meeting with the artist who is designing 3 billboards for INHURED, which will be posted all over Nepal focusing on the constitution (what basically the constitution will include), five of the fundamental rights and freedoms, and the general structure of federalism.
I’ve written a preliminary TOR and a long list of questions that I need to work on some more. But all in all I’m ready. Someone call me! Someone email me! I’m ready to meet with you and ask you questions about citizenship, individual rights and freedoms and representation in Nepal!
No? Not yet? Phone’s on…. Internet is working better at the moment than it was 10 minutes ago. No? Ok... I'll keep thinking and writing then.
Its not all lost though, not at all. I actually feel like right now I’m waiting, but in a little while (in a few hours, a few days, or next week) I might have more than I can handle. Here’s hoping!
Technically, I’m ahead in the game: I have time to read and reflect, and I have three (!!) meetings set up. One is with youth involved in Today’s Youth Asia!, another with the Press Attache for the US Embassy, and a third with one of our advisers, who also happens to be one of the leaders in the National Planning Commission. So I would say that I’m actually off to a really good start. (Now I have a tentative 4th meeting for later this month!)
This coming Saturday morning I’ll be headed to a conference which is being put on by my friend Mandira Raut at Today’s Youth Asia. She’s training youth to be journalists. On Tuesday I went to see a taping of the show that she produces, which was fantastic! It was so wonderful to see her at work, but even more so, it was so amazing to see such a great show!
Today’s Youth Asia is a TV program (I believe hosted on Kantipur)- as well as a magazine - where a guest is invited to discuss a topic of interest and some 20 to 25 youth are sitting in the audience listening and then each has an opportunity to ask a question of the guest. It’s a GREAT program and one that really involves youth at every level, all of them are supremely intelligent and excited about what they’re involved in. For Tuesday’s taping, Mandira had one of her interns and one of the youth journalists pick me up near my house. I am so impressed with them both!
The youth journalist (who also now conducts media trainings for others), he’s about maybe 14 or 15 years old, was telling me about what they do and I was talking to them about my research. As we came to the bridge that unites Lalitpur (the district where I live) and Kathmandu we closed the windows. The smell that comes from this river is close to nothing you have ever experienced. It’s livable for a bit, but typically you’re stuck on this bridge for a good 10 minutes due to traffic, so its pretty unbearable (but I don’t know whats worse - being in an enclosed car with no AC or having the windows open with the Eau du Stink wafting in?). The student (I need to get his name!) said, “The politicians are working, but they’re working on something else. This river is my problem. They don’t travel this way, and if they do, they never have the windows down to experience it. They don’t know that this is a problem. They’re working on other issues which are important, but not on my problems that need fixing.” When can we vote for him as president? Or should we try to reserve him away from politics so that he doesn’t lose his easy way of speaking and seeing things so clearly?
So after the taping of the show, which had the Press Attache of the US Embassy as the main guest, I met with three of Mandira’s students. She has tasked them with writing an article for which they need to conduct interviews. I told them about my research and asked them to take that on as their article topic. On Saturday I think I’ll be seeing them, so I can hear what they’ve found out so far, and I can get some more of the youth in the program involved in asking around to teachers, parents and friends their opinions. I’ll also at least try to conduct some interviews for myself while there on Saturday. (What exactly is going on on Saturday, I have no idea. But that’s half the fun right?)
It sounds like a pack of wild flies are coming into the office to attack us. This can only mean that there’s a World Cup game on and the power is back. Also in completely separate yet exciting news for me, I’m having a fantastic hair day! So I’ve got some meetings set up, about twelve more requests floating out there, I’ve got electricity, and really like my dress and hair. It’s a great day in Nepal!
------ To finish this off, here’s a great song by Fito Paez "Trafico en Katmandu" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Rtbdh-ydPQ)(gracias Barbie!!), but I’m still not sure how the song is fitting in with the city yet…
This is a good, if not a big step. Its at least in the right direction. I’ve gotten comfortable in my home stay and have an easy walk to my work-base (its not an internship, its more of a place where I can come and get advice and lately a good place for internet connection as well) and relatively quiet days which are full of contemplation.
Since starting here at INHURED I’ve edited some translations of interviews with Bhutanese refugees, edited a proposal for a new project to the Australian development agency, and edited the proposed script to OHCHR for a docudrama on transitional justice. All of which have been immensely educating and interesting. I also sat in on a meeting with the artist who is designing 3 billboards for INHURED, which will be posted all over Nepal focusing on the constitution (what basically the constitution will include), five of the fundamental rights and freedoms, and the general structure of federalism.
I’ve written a preliminary TOR and a long list of questions that I need to work on some more. But all in all I’m ready. Someone call me! Someone email me! I’m ready to meet with you and ask you questions about citizenship, individual rights and freedoms and representation in Nepal!
No? Not yet? Phone’s on…. Internet is working better at the moment than it was 10 minutes ago. No? Ok... I'll keep thinking and writing then.
Its not all lost though, not at all. I actually feel like right now I’m waiting, but in a little while (in a few hours, a few days, or next week) I might have more than I can handle. Here’s hoping!
Technically, I’m ahead in the game: I have time to read and reflect, and I have three (!!) meetings set up. One is with youth involved in Today’s Youth Asia!, another with the Press Attache for the US Embassy, and a third with one of our advisers, who also happens to be one of the leaders in the National Planning Commission. So I would say that I’m actually off to a really good start. (Now I have a tentative 4th meeting for later this month!)
This coming Saturday morning I’ll be headed to a conference which is being put on by my friend Mandira Raut at Today’s Youth Asia. She’s training youth to be journalists. On Tuesday I went to see a taping of the show that she produces, which was fantastic! It was so wonderful to see her at work, but even more so, it was so amazing to see such a great show!
Today’s Youth Asia is a TV program (I believe hosted on Kantipur)- as well as a magazine - where a guest is invited to discuss a topic of interest and some 20 to 25 youth are sitting in the audience listening and then each has an opportunity to ask a question of the guest. It’s a GREAT program and one that really involves youth at every level, all of them are supremely intelligent and excited about what they’re involved in. For Tuesday’s taping, Mandira had one of her interns and one of the youth journalists pick me up near my house. I am so impressed with them both!
The youth journalist (who also now conducts media trainings for others), he’s about maybe 14 or 15 years old, was telling me about what they do and I was talking to them about my research. As we came to the bridge that unites Lalitpur (the district where I live) and Kathmandu we closed the windows. The smell that comes from this river is close to nothing you have ever experienced. It’s livable for a bit, but typically you’re stuck on this bridge for a good 10 minutes due to traffic, so its pretty unbearable (but I don’t know whats worse - being in an enclosed car with no AC or having the windows open with the Eau du Stink wafting in?). The student (I need to get his name!) said, “The politicians are working, but they’re working on something else. This river is my problem. They don’t travel this way, and if they do, they never have the windows down to experience it. They don’t know that this is a problem. They’re working on other issues which are important, but not on my problems that need fixing.” When can we vote for him as president? Or should we try to reserve him away from politics so that he doesn’t lose his easy way of speaking and seeing things so clearly?
So after the taping of the show, which had the Press Attache of the US Embassy as the main guest, I met with three of Mandira’s students. She has tasked them with writing an article for which they need to conduct interviews. I told them about my research and asked them to take that on as their article topic. On Saturday I think I’ll be seeing them, so I can hear what they’ve found out so far, and I can get some more of the youth in the program involved in asking around to teachers, parents and friends their opinions. I’ll also at least try to conduct some interviews for myself while there on Saturday. (What exactly is going on on Saturday, I have no idea. But that’s half the fun right?)
It sounds like a pack of wild flies are coming into the office to attack us. This can only mean that there’s a World Cup game on and the power is back. Also in completely separate yet exciting news for me, I’m having a fantastic hair day! So I’ve got some meetings set up, about twelve more requests floating out there, I’ve got electricity, and really like my dress and hair. It’s a great day in Nepal!
------ To finish this off, here’s a great song by Fito Paez "Trafico en Katmandu" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Rtbdh-ydPQ)(gracias Barbie!!), but I’m still not sure how the song is fitting in with the city yet…
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Past the barracks to defend human rights
June 16, 2010 post by Dragica
I started my internship one day later than everyone else in the group (those interning) due to my office staff being in the field outside of Kathmandu in other districts. My organization is called Advocacy Forum (www.advocacyforum.org), and they are a leading Nepali human rights NGO. I joined them for six weeks to conduct a project under their transitional justice department falling directly under my research interests of victims-based approaches to transitional justice and victims’ justice, where I will be documenting the work of the victims-based groups that have been trained by my organization in advocacy on behalf of the victims in their respective districts across Nepal (most importantly, the areas that were the hardest-hit by “The People’s War”).
My first day began “Nepali time” style, when I was prepared for a full first day from 9 to 5, and ended up going to the office at 2:30pm after the director of my organization became available to meet me. I practiced patience and flexibility, atypical of my stringent “New York City style,” and both were expected to be tried in Nepal. I promptly ate my breakfast at a scheduled time waiting for one of my team leaders to pick me up, and through the serial postponements, ended up reading the newspapers, interacting with the family and staff who were going about their business in the house (everything happened around me as I was sitting in the living room and they wondered why I was still there), and writing a blog post about Kathmandu. Finally, I took my light lunch at the café I discovered on my way to work called “Roadhouse Café” (super Western) while spending some time on the internet, just before I was picked up (my host family’s house does not have internet).
Located 15 minutes from my home (walking), my office is a light-filled five-story building (very hot), and upon arrival, I was first introduced to Mandira Sharma, our Director, and a well-recognized leader in the Nepali human rights movement. I finally got to speak with her after hearing so many great things about her work. Many academics, activists, artists and others I have been meeting in Nepal thus far knew her personally. She was kind and grounded, welcoming me, and setting me up with my project before the head of my department returns from a field visit on June 18th. I got to brief her on my experience of attending a large (500-600 people) meeting at the City Hall yesterday on the issue of the Disappearances where three key party representatives met human rights movement representatives, among them being Pushpa Kamal Dahal (the infamous Maoist figure called “Prachanda”!), and Richard Bennett who is the head of the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), and whom Cecilia and I were introduced to prior to the event (both exciting occurrences). I reported that there was nothing new to be learned between the party leaders’ attacks on each other and banter that avoids addressing the real issue (I call this trend in Nepali politics, witnessed firsthand thus far, “turning the wheels” or “passing the buck”). No one seems to be listening to each other, and an event that had so much potential, where the human rights leaders spoke openly calling for the parties to answer why the proposed legislation has not been passed, and why the disappearances have not been answered about or the perpetrators punished, turned into a regular political game. The event was hosted by the Association of the Families of the Disappeared lobbying on behalf of the victims on the Maoist side of the conflict who were disappeared by the State Security Forces during the ten-year war (1996-2006) (note that the vast human rights abuses during this conflict occurred by both sides, but the majority of the crimes investigated, particularly the 1000 plus disappearances, were committed by the State Security Forces). The event was in Nepali and we had two wonderful colleagues from Nepal Institute for Development Studies (NIDS) translate for us. In addition to my urging desire to understand Nepali and frustration for not knowing the language, I felt extreme frustration at what I was witnessing, feeling the disappointment in the leadership and politics, and fear that the weakest, faintest voices that I am the most worried about – those of the victims – will never get heard if those representing the people in the government cannot even sit on the stage long enough to hear each other speak (this is the consensus government?)! Below are the photos of this exciting event where “everything is illuminated” (ref. Johathan Safran Foer). I veer off path..
Having met Mandira, I was taken around the office to be introduced to other staff – the “torturers”, the legals (legal aid), the admins, the documentation, and apparently my department is the “glamorous one” in contrast to say, torture (all of my favorite human rights abuses; this one is for Beth). There are about 5 other interns who are working on separate projects in other departments, all very friendly and approachable, and I ended up sitting at my department’s office on the 5th floor with Martin, formerly from Sweden, who is finishing his work with Advocacy Forum to move onto working with the Asian Human Rights Commission in Hong Kong (where I believe other Hong Kong IFPers are interning from my Graduate Program in International Affairs at The New School). I began my preliminary readings, charted a brief plan for myself for now, and created a ‘to do’ list. While sitting at that office, everything working out so perfectly with my internship, my international Field Program, with all of my passions aligned, I realized how much I loved being here, doing this very thing that I am studying, feeling passionate about human rights and justice after war, and I thought, this could be my career. Thus far, albeit early, I say: I love being in the field.
Ironically, every day between my home and work, I have to pass the army barracks, on my windy road to “justice.” I am ready to take on the curbs, even though the traffic is crazy and I have no idea most of the time what is coming up or how fast. No uphill battle is too difficult when in your heart you believe in the thing that is right. Barracks or no barracks. May they remind me why I am going there every single day for the next 6 weeks.
I started my internship one day later than everyone else in the group (those interning) due to my office staff being in the field outside of Kathmandu in other districts. My organization is called Advocacy Forum (www.advocacyforum.org), and they are a leading Nepali human rights NGO. I joined them for six weeks to conduct a project under their transitional justice department falling directly under my research interests of victims-based approaches to transitional justice and victims’ justice, where I will be documenting the work of the victims-based groups that have been trained by my organization in advocacy on behalf of the victims in their respective districts across Nepal (most importantly, the areas that were the hardest-hit by “The People’s War”).
My first day began “Nepali time” style, when I was prepared for a full first day from 9 to 5, and ended up going to the office at 2:30pm after the director of my organization became available to meet me. I practiced patience and flexibility, atypical of my stringent “New York City style,” and both were expected to be tried in Nepal. I promptly ate my breakfast at a scheduled time waiting for one of my team leaders to pick me up, and through the serial postponements, ended up reading the newspapers, interacting with the family and staff who were going about their business in the house (everything happened around me as I was sitting in the living room and they wondered why I was still there), and writing a blog post about Kathmandu. Finally, I took my light lunch at the café I discovered on my way to work called “Roadhouse Café” (super Western) while spending some time on the internet, just before I was picked up (my host family’s house does not have internet).
Located 15 minutes from my home (walking), my office is a light-filled five-story building (very hot), and upon arrival, I was first introduced to Mandira Sharma, our Director, and a well-recognized leader in the Nepali human rights movement. I finally got to speak with her after hearing so many great things about her work. Many academics, activists, artists and others I have been meeting in Nepal thus far knew her personally. She was kind and grounded, welcoming me, and setting me up with my project before the head of my department returns from a field visit on June 18th. I got to brief her on my experience of attending a large (500-600 people) meeting at the City Hall yesterday on the issue of the Disappearances where three key party representatives met human rights movement representatives, among them being Pushpa Kamal Dahal (the infamous Maoist figure called “Prachanda”!), and Richard Bennett who is the head of the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), and whom Cecilia and I were introduced to prior to the event (both exciting occurrences). I reported that there was nothing new to be learned between the party leaders’ attacks on each other and banter that avoids addressing the real issue (I call this trend in Nepali politics, witnessed firsthand thus far, “turning the wheels” or “passing the buck”). No one seems to be listening to each other, and an event that had so much potential, where the human rights leaders spoke openly calling for the parties to answer why the proposed legislation has not been passed, and why the disappearances have not been answered about or the perpetrators punished, turned into a regular political game. The event was hosted by the Association of the Families of the Disappeared lobbying on behalf of the victims on the Maoist side of the conflict who were disappeared by the State Security Forces during the ten-year war (1996-2006) (note that the vast human rights abuses during this conflict occurred by both sides, but the majority of the crimes investigated, particularly the 1000 plus disappearances, were committed by the State Security Forces). The event was in Nepali and we had two wonderful colleagues from Nepal Institute for Development Studies (NIDS) translate for us. In addition to my urging desire to understand Nepali and frustration for not knowing the language, I felt extreme frustration at what I was witnessing, feeling the disappointment in the leadership and politics, and fear that the weakest, faintest voices that I am the most worried about – those of the victims – will never get heard if those representing the people in the government cannot even sit on the stage long enough to hear each other speak (this is the consensus government?)! Below are the photos of this exciting event where “everything is illuminated” (ref. Johathan Safran Foer). I veer off path..
Having met Mandira, I was taken around the office to be introduced to other staff – the “torturers”, the legals (legal aid), the admins, the documentation, and apparently my department is the “glamorous one” in contrast to say, torture (all of my favorite human rights abuses; this one is for Beth). There are about 5 other interns who are working on separate projects in other departments, all very friendly and approachable, and I ended up sitting at my department’s office on the 5th floor with Martin, formerly from Sweden, who is finishing his work with Advocacy Forum to move onto working with the Asian Human Rights Commission in Hong Kong (where I believe other Hong Kong IFPers are interning from my Graduate Program in International Affairs at The New School). I began my preliminary readings, charted a brief plan for myself for now, and created a ‘to do’ list. While sitting at that office, everything working out so perfectly with my internship, my international Field Program, with all of my passions aligned, I realized how much I loved being here, doing this very thing that I am studying, feeling passionate about human rights and justice after war, and I thought, this could be my career. Thus far, albeit early, I say: I love being in the field.
Ironically, every day between my home and work, I have to pass the army barracks, on my windy road to “justice.” I am ready to take on the curbs, even though the traffic is crazy and I have no idea most of the time what is coming up or how fast. No uphill battle is too difficult when in your heart you believe in the thing that is right. Barracks or no barracks. May they remind me why I am going there every single day for the next 6 weeks.
Tuesday in Kathmandu
Yesterday afternoon, on my way back home from the NIDS office, I met a boy whose name escaped my memory. He leaned towards me while walking in the same direction from Hotel Ambassador down the road to that big traffic juncture connecting the eastern end of Thamel with other parts of the city.
- “Hi, how are you?” he asked me.
- “Good, thanks,” I replied, sensing this was not the end of our conversation.
- “Where are you from?” he continued.
- “Czech Republic,” I answered.
- “Oh, I know! Capital Prague, right?”
- “Correct,” I mumbled.
- The incessant stream of questions followed: “How long have you been to Nepal?”; “How long will you stay?”; “Where are you going right now?” ; “What do you think about Nepal?”
Eased by finding out this was not one of the kids begging for money or looking out for a new family, I found it refreshing to chat with that young stranger. Interestingly enough, he turned out to be a rather clever and sensible boy. He told me about how his mother took him and his three other siblings out from rural Nepal to Kathmandu to earn some money to support their father, a farmer living in the countryside. We also talked about Nepal’s current problems (water, electricity, pollution) and how they could be solved (political parties need to find consensus on the present constitutional process). Given the boy’s age (13-14yrs max.), I was stunned by how much he knows about his country. I remember myself being at the onset of puberty - completely unaware of what’s going on in neither political nor economic scene, too much preoccupied with my personal wants and generally arrogant towards the more serious issues in life. Unlike me, the boy was keen on successfully finishing his education in one of Kathmandu’s governmental schools and then going out to find a part-time job to better serve his family.
After visiting the famous Sherpa outdoor store across the southern Royal Palace entrance, we set on heading back to where we had met and then northwards toward the British Embassy complex. Now, there was another element in our conversation. The boy asked if could buy for him one box of milk powder, ostensibly for his little sister Anita (that name I remember). Wondering for a moment, I agreed and, just because I was in no mood of finding any nearby supermarket, I offered to give him money instead. He refused, insisting that cash is no good for children because they soon become comfortable with it (later on, I realized that milk powder costs probably more than what I would have given to that kid as a pocket money - so, another smart thing from him to do). He convinced me to find a supermarket close to my area and so we were off to buy some nutritional stuff for his little sister.
On our way back, I learned the boy was really fascinated about geography - especially linking countries with their respective capitals. He told me I can ask for any country and that he would know what the name of its capital city is. So I started with Europe: “Iceland,” I asked.
- “Reykjavik,” he responded swiftly.
- “Belarus,” I continued.
- “Belarus.. that will be... Minsk!” he shouted victoriously.
- OK, now something tricky, I thought. “Paraguay!”
- “Asuncion!” he replied with no overt difficulty. Suddenly, I felt ashamed of myself having in mind Montevideo (the capital of Uruguay) as the right answer. Being in the dominant position of a milk-buyer, I could afford pretending to be dead certain about the correctness of the kid’s answer. By the time we reached the supermarket, the boy proved incredibly adept at locating countries’ capitals in many different parts of the world. With the exception of Turkmenistan (Ashgabat) - the only question from which I came out as a winner - there was no doubt about who is the master of geography there. Reminding myself of my elementary school years and my own obsession with getting to know capitals of all countries in the world, I really began to like that boy.
Our brief friendship lasted for only some forty to fifty minutes. After buying him the milk powder, some cookies and a small orange juice with a straw glued to the box’s surface, we waved each other good-bye and took on opposite directions. My next thoughts went to the dilemma of how to cross one of Kathmandu’s many wild and chaotic streets and get back home soon so that I can eat my daily portion of bhat, vegetables, and drink a glass of paani.
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