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Kathmandu: Storycycle organized a walking tour along the traditional water route in Patan, taking in several stone water spouts, or taps, and com­munity water systems. Participants on the walk learned of the history of the water route and the significance of the spouts, many built over 2,000 years ago. The water spouts range from those used for healing purposes, those used by menstruating women, and those used for religious pujas, to the more mundane for everyday household use.

Traditionally using rainwater and gravity, the vast majority of these spouts throughout the whole Kath­mandu Valley are dry today. They are, however, still used by the com­munity as meeting places and water collection areas, as can be seen by the vast plastic water tanks now installed alongside the tradition­al, beautifully carved spouts and associated statues of deities. Interest­ingly, some of the spouts are being restored, while others are in a state of very poor disrepair.

Storycycle has been running for the past few years, with the mission of collecting grassroots and contem­porary stories and turning them into a digital museum showcase for future generations. They also run training programs focussing on innovation, collection and presentation of mul­timedia stories targeted at the next generation of storytellers.

For further information http:// www.storycycle.com

Within hours of the earthquake on April 25, 2015, other countries were flying in emergency relief workers and aid. Many tourists and residents left the country a few days later on these returning relief planes. I myself had the experience of flying in a Royal Australian Air Force cargo plane to Bangkok.

Everyone fully expected the runway to be damaged by a big earthquake, despite the fact it sits on land less susceptible to liquefac­tion than much of Kathmandu. We were extremely lucky in 2015. But what if Malindo or any other airliner was blocking the runway just prior to a major earthquake? As we saw when Turkish Airlines skidded on landing and blocked the runway for several days, Nepal does not have the equipment necessary to move a heavy plane.

Recently I did some research on the Thai Airlines and Pakistan Airlines air crashes that both happened in 1992 as the planes approached TIA. That did not make for good reading. Steps to improve air safety have been taken since. But despite these steps, including a brand new radar system installed as recently as December 2017, the US Bangla Airlines crash of last month has left many bereft and many more horrified and, yes, scared. Accidents do happen. That’s a fact. Whether human or equipment error or just sheer bad luck, we cannot escape that ‘shit happens’.

So we need to be prepared. Yet Nepal is often very unprepared. At the moment the runway is due to be lengthened by 300m so that a local­izer antenna can be installed at the end of it. The reason for the length­ening is that planes should not come within 150m of the antenna and the current runway is not long enough to accommodate that.

Money has been allocated and the contractor has been selected. Yet several months on, the contractor has not started work. The completion deadline of early 2019 will definitely be missed. We can speculate why things like this happen, but we know that it is not just ‘bad luck’. Meantime, we wait for this additional safety feature to be installed—at some point—in the future.

Many lives have been lost through natural disasters, includ­ing the Gorkha Earthquake, and many others have been lost through plane crashes. I express my sympathy to everyone affected by these terrible events. This week I am leaving the rest of this column blank … because I am simply without words.  

Haven’t we heard it all before? New infrastructure is proposed and the given timeline seems very rosy and optimistic. Everything, it seems, will be up-and-running within two to five years, regardless of the com­plexity of the project. Part of the rea­son is that Nepalis just don’t like to disappoint. So saying no or giving a realistic timeline seems impossible. I don’t think there is anyone read­ing this who has not been on a long distance bus or on a trekking route and asked “when will we reach our destination?” to be told it will be an hour; but four hours later, you seem no nearer the end.

Then of course there are those unforeseen natural and unnatu­ral stumbling blocks. Like the facts that rock is hard to drill through, or blockades do happen. Why is the unexpected not figured into the plan, especially when in a country like Nepal the ‘unexpected’ pretty much happens every week?

Many moons ago (about 16 years’ worth) I worked with WaterAid on a little handbook intended for peo­ple in the valley so that they could best utilize their water. There were drawings, technical and lay-persons advice on a rainwater harvesting sys­tem (did anyone?) on the house roof, how to reuse grey water, how to install a well (there was still ground­water underneath us in those days), how to maintain hand pump, etc. The name of this booklet? “While Waiting for Melamchi”.

Maybe an addendum needs to be added now which includes things like how to turn your dry well into a garden ornament, or how to use the weather app on your phone to gather rain in a bucket. Of course we didn’t think we would need a whole rain-water harvesting system as Melamchi was coming soon.

And before we get too excited about the amount of water that will be coursing through our taps, let’s think about the population of Kath­mandu now and then. When the fea­sibility study was done on Melamchi I’m quite sure it was during the mid-1990s. What was the popula­tion of Kathmandu then? And what is the population of the city now? I don’t have the figures but I think it’s something like a hundred percent increase. More than the population of the whole of Scotland!

And speaking of Scotland, we also have a vast river network. Which we utilize. All the water coming from Scottish taps is water from our rivers. And all our elec­tricity comes from the same source. In more recent years this has been supplemented by wind-gen­erated power. Because hey, like rain-water, wind-power is free after the initial installation and a little maintenance.

I feel some people think that making use of the rain and wind is ‘old-fashioned’. While it is true that these nature given gifts were utilized by past generations around the world, they are certainly not ‘old fashioned’ as can be seen by the upsurge of use and interest in devel­oped countries. Solar-run houses are springing up, and although those are pretty expensive at start-up, a solar panel or two is a great idea. Just ask any villager living in the hills and mountains here—they have had solar panels for decades. Just ask me (snug look on my face as I switch on my solar lights).

So yes, as the papers are all announcing—‘finally’ there is a breakthrough on Melamchi. Let’s see when, ‘finally’, we will see the results in our taps.

A visitor asks, “When is New Year in Nepal?” We all smile. The visitor scratches his head.Thamel, Lakeside and various other areas which cater to the young, young-at-heart, and tourists get into the New Year spirit in both December and April. There is pretty much something for everyone, from the more expensive dinner deals, to the bars and clubs and events held on open spaces such as the Tundikhel and the Jawalakhel foot­ball ground. As the time approaches bar and club owners just hope this year the police are in a benevo­lent mood with regard to closing times. Now I don’t want to jinx it, but we have all known times when for some reason the police figure we should all be tucked up in bed by 10pm and go around enforc­ing early shutdown of restaurants, bars etc. I’ve never managed to work out the logic behind this. And on a side note, I hear the police are now raiding hotels arresting Nepali cou­ples of consenting age. What’s with that? Frustration? Boredom? You would think they would have better things to do.

Back on point. I remember one Nepali New Year when I was attend­ing an event in the outside garden of the old 1905 on Kantipath (sadly no longer there). Midnight had just passed and the international DJ announced he would keep play­ing till 2am. I went inside to use the toilet and when I came out, I found myself locked in the build­ing! Luckily, being an old building, some doors where bolted from the inside only (what I would have done if it had been a modern, shuttered building, I don’t know). On ‘escap­ing’ I saw there were a few dazed looking foreigners still around but all the staff had disappeared. The police had come to close the event. But at least we managed to celebrate midnight. Later I found out from a friend who was playing at a gig somewhere else that the police had come round before midnight to shut that event down!

In Scotland, New Year has always been celebrated eh, enthusiastically, shall we say? Traditionally, after the ‘bells’ at midnight we go from house to house in the neighborhood offer­ing a drink from the bottle (probably whisky) we are carrying and accept­ing a drink from the host. Any house that has its lights on can be visited, even if you don’t know the people who live there. The traditional New Year Eve gift is a lump of coal. That tradition goes back to the days when everyone had coal-fuelled fires in the house. While the rest of Britain gets the first day of the New Year (January 1st) as a public holiday, we in Scotland need two days to recover and so the 1st and the 2nd are both public holidays. In fact in Scotland the first time you visit a friend or relative’s house during the month of January you will be expected to eat Christmas cake and other goodies, and drink whisky as if it was still New Year Eve. Every Nepali I know would love it—I can see them now getting down with their rendition of Bhim Niroula’s “Monday Morning Love you”!

Back here in Nepal while the majority of the many, I believe seven, ethnic new years are celebrated with puja, prayers, street parades and dances, Naya Barsa, celebrated mid-April, seems to be heading down the road of Gregorian new year, at least in Kath­mandu. Less prayer, more eating and drinking. Less family, more Get Your Groove On Lounge. Less grandpa and grandma, more cute guy or girl from college. Great for the hospitality industry, not so great for Nepali culture.

So… back to our visitor… what would you say?

The inaugural play for this four-day festival was Atirikta Akash, written and directed by Malla himself and per­formed by Avineet Malla. Set in Nepal with the very current theme of a husband’s expla­nation to the prison guard as to why he killed the man who raped his wife, this play, preceded by the opening cere­mony, attracted such a crowd there were people standing three deep at the entrance.

“Two years ago at Festival Theatertage, Germany, Ashesh Malla met Michael Woodwood and the idea of this solo the­atre festival in Kathmandu was born,” Britta Lutz of Förderv­erein Theatertage said. So it was fitting that Woodwood’s play ‘The Coat’ premiered in Kathmandu. Performed by Sioned Jones of Arcati Produc­tions, London, the play was directed by Woodwood him­self. Jones gave a magnificent performance, which followed the path of a coat that brought its various owners life-chang­ing adventures. Using French, German, English, songs, and mime, the audience was transported from Paris to the Titanic, to the Wall Street, through the First World War, and eventually back to Paris. Jones received a standing ova­tion for her outstanding and very convincing performance of more than half a dozen characters.

The audience was then jolted to the iPhone factory in Shanghai. Directed by Zhao Chaun and performed ener­getically by Wu Jiamin, from Grass Stage, ‘Jump’ asked the question ‘is one man’s youth the Youth?’ At the other end of the age spectrum was a play, also written especially for this festival, ‘The Chairs were Moved to Give Me Passage’. Directed by Alan Lyddiard of The Performance Ensemble, UK, Tamara McLorg showed various true snapshots of her life as a performer in Africa, Europe and South America. The play touchingly explained through narration and mime how time moves on from life as a young performer through to the present day as a mature performer and performing arts mentor. “This is a work in progress, and I will add to it my experience in Kath­mandu, and the generosity and warmth of the people I have met here,” said McLorg.

With the majority of the visiting artists giving back through working with youths or within a human rights set­ting, it was fitting that the experimental performance by Bhoomika Tharu highlighted the plight of young girls in her community. Despite her very young years, Tharu gave a stunning performance as a Kamlari (slave) girl. As a stu­dent of Sarwanam Theater, for this production, Tharu worked with director Maxime from France. “I told Bhoom­ika, I am not the teacher, rather it is she who has taught me through this whole experi­ence.” For information on Sar­wanam Theater’s upcoming productions, visit sarwanam. org.np.

To tattoo or not to tattoo—that is the question. For the majority of youth these days, it’s not ‘will I get a tattoo?’, but ‘what tattoo will I get?’ At what point did tat­toos step out of the army and into the general public? I ask Google that question and surprisingly the answer is that in Western culture, tattoos became popular in the 1960s among bikers and hippies. And by the 1990s tattoos were most popu­lar among, strangely enough, white suburban females. Certainly, growing up, I do not remember anyone having a tattoo except for old ex-army guys who had mundane things like skulls and crossbones and hearts with their lover’s name. One friend, when we were both in our 20s, had a selection of bad tattoos on her inner wrist. But she had been a gang member in her younger days and her tattoos were related to that time.

The tattoos I saw in the early 2000s were still not what you would call pieces of art. Then suddenly tattoos came out of the dark into the spotlight. With better inks and equipment tattoos are now much more sophisticated, and everyone wants one.

Tattoos have of course been around for millennia. Here in Nepal Tharu women decorated their legs with tattoos to ensure they appeared beautiful to their future husbands. Star, moon and sun tattoos can be seen on the faces of Newar, Gurung and Magar women. These tattoos were made with a mixture of fire dust, milk and plant extracts. Recently tradi­tional tattoos have been dying out although I am interested to know if they are being revived among the young generation now that tattoos are seen on every celebrity.

I think the middle generation, the parents, would have something to say about this and wonder how many Nepali sons and daughters have hidden tattoos. I once com­mented that there are a lot of Bud­dhas, Shivas and the like tattooed on Nepali guys. I was told “father cannot complain if we have god tattooed on our bodies…” And if granny scolds, just point to the little crescent moon above her lip.

You must have guessed by now that I am getting round to talking about the International Tattoo Con­vention being held here in Kath­mandu this weekend. I’m an avid supporter of this event and annu­ally spend at least two whole days soaking up the atmosphere and mar­veling at the talent of the artists. Artists from all over the world come to take part in this event but among the best of them are artists from Nepal itself. There is no denying their artistic ability and local artists regularly take away red ribbons from this event.

Many people go to the convention specifically to get a tattoo; and it’s quite an experience getting inked under these circumstances. Here is an opportunity to get a lifetime piece of artwork from an international art­ist at a fraction of the price it would cost you in Europe, the US or Austra­lia. Visiting artists are encouraged to price their work at a rate affordable to the locals. And the majority are happy to do this. Remember to get there early to grab a time slot. I have been disappointed twice when the artist I wanted was too busy with other clients.

But even if you are not getting a tattoo, there is plenty to see. Watch others getting inked; be amazed at the heavily tattooed artists and visi­tors this event attracts; enjoy tradi­tional dances; witness the daily com­petition for the best tattoo and the ‘best of show’; get a piercing; watch traditional hand poked tattoos being created, and perhaps this year there will be someone doing scarification or some other extremely painful looking work. And why not count the number of Nepali guys being god inked! See you there.

The Embassy of Japan and The­ater Village, in cooperation with Kunja Theater, organized the Japanese solo-theatre “Master Shoko and Margarita” by Shoko Ito in Kathmandu last week. The first performance took place at the Nepal Tourism Board Auditorium and the second at the Kunja Theater, New Baneshwor. Ito is a renowned Japa­nese solo theatre artist who found­ed the ITO-GUMI theatre company in 1987 and has performed in 62 countries around the globe. Having worked in theatre for over 30 years as a director, writer and actress, her performances are highly regarded in The Netherlands, Switzerland, Ukraine, USA and Germany. Her accolade is certainly deserved as she wowed the audience with her ability to play two completely different characters at the same time, from a young girl to an old man. After the performance of her solo play, Ito also demonstrated two tradi­tional Japanese dances. In 2016, she had also performed her solo play “Samurai Grandma” in Nepal.

Just how ‘organic’ are organics? Over the past few years a number of organic markets have shot up throughout Kathmandu. So what makes these markets different from other markets around town?The very word ‘organic’ makes us think that these markets are selling everything that is wholesome and fresh. But what does organic really mean? Warning: advertorial coming up! With regard to organic farming, only natural materials are used; no chemical fertilizers or pesticides. This prolongs the longevity of the land (heavy chemicals ultimately reduce its production capacity) and maintains ecological balance. In the past this was the normal way to farm (no chemicals available back then) but now agriculture sans chemicals is known as ‘organic’ farming.

As a child, before big supermarket pre-packaging, I regularly found insects in the vegetables on my din­ner plate. Those were the tiny ones that had escaped my mother’s atten­tion in the rinsing process. How often do you come across an insect in your vegetables here in Nepal? Not very often I bet.

While there have always been people encouraging the use of a traditional, natural approach to farming, it’s not until quite recently that we have seen the label ‘organic’ in the Kathmandu Val­ley. But does that mean every product in the market is certified? There are private organizations providing organic certification in Nepal but as far as I am aware, the government does not have its own system of certification yet. So to my mind, those who are enthusiastic about natural farming or wild-harvesting will maintain standards which will reduce defor­estation and encourage respectful and sustainable agriculture farming systems, thereby protecting the local environment. Unfortunately, currently, there is too much at stake for the average farmer to invest time and effort into an organic farming method which is more labor intensive and which will take longer to achieve the same results. And anyway, who in the local markets is interested in paying more for organic products?

Which brings us back to the ‘organic markets’ in Kathmandu. Go along to any of these markets on the weekend, or now during the week also, and you will see that the vast majority of people who are buying are expats. And when you take a look at the prices being charged, you will understand why. Fruit and vegetables are not the only things that are more expensive here. It is a good place to source cheeses, pumpkin and chai seeds, natural body lotions, breads of all different varieties, home-made and restaurant-made food to eat in or take away, honey, etc. That cannot be denied. But shoppers pay dearly for the convenience and ambiance. And is everything ‘organic’ anyway? Without a thorough background check, how would we know?

But while many go there to shop, just as many go to socialize. It’s certainly a meeting ground for expats and middle class Nepalis alike. Some of the markets have value added events selling artwork, and handicrafts made in Nepal, or have live music to attract custom­ers. The original organic markets seem to have spawned other mar­kets which don’t sell food but art, jewelery, handmade bags and other hand-made or community-made goods. Many of the stalls highlight the fact they work with local women or craftspeople, which makes the buyer feel they are giving back by making their purchases there. Don’t get me wrong, yes, on the whole they seem to be fair trade stalls. But again, how would we know?

One of the first—then we didn’t call it organic—markets was at the Sum­mit Hotel on a Sunday morning. In those days it was mainly vegetables they sold—things like lettuce which were not readily available in the local shops—and bakery products. At that time, they even provided free coffee to the shoppers. Ah for the good old days of free coffee and non-‘organic’ prices!