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‘Chaotic’ is the word to describe Nepal’s anti-Covid vaccination drive thus far. Take the new confusion of those in the 60-65 age bracket. Earlier phases of vaccination had covered those over 65. When the next age-wise vaccination started, it was said those aged 45-49 would be jabbed. The 60-65 bracket seems to have escaped the minds of those who decide these things—or if there is a valid reason for the omission, most of the elderly folks in this age group have no clue about it. There appears to be as big a confusion over the safety of the Chinese vaccines now being administered.

If the vaccines are safe, the government has not bothered to inform the people and remove their doubts. This in turn has sparked a further speculation: perhaps even those administering the vaccines are unsure. To make things more confusing, it was announced that the 800,000 available doses of the Chinese vaccines would be given to all “essential workers”, without clarifying who fell into the two categories. As we have argued in this space before, if the contagion is to be halted, the government needs to do a far better job of informing and taking people into confidence.

Meanwhile, on April 19, new Covid-19 restrictions were announced. For the next three weeks, congregations with over 25 people have been banned. Schools and colleges have been forced shut. Restaurants will have to shut down by 8 pm. These restrictions had been expected amid the galloping rates of new Covid-19 infections, especially among school- and college-going students. A general lockdown of the kind enforced in 2020, which seemed to do more harm than good, has been wisely avoided.

To make a credible dent in infection rates, implementing a stricter surveillance mechanism on the porous Nepal-India border has to be the first order of business. As in the past, this time too Nepal has imported most Covid-19 infections across land borders with India. And a lot more vaccines need to be brought. What happened to Russian vaccines, one wonders. Wasn’t Russia sending enough of its Sputnik V vaccines to inoculate nearly every Nepali? Why haven’t any of them come? There is not a moment to lose in this fight against a cunning, shapeshifting virus. We certainly can’t afford the kind of chaos that has characterized Nepal’s vaccination drive to this point.

We know it is coming. Yet we seem to have given up even before the dreaded second Covid-19 wave arrives. There is zero trust between the government and the citizens it supposedly represents. The presence of enormous, unmasked crowds at various party venues to bring in 2078 BS, all over the country, suggests people either don’t believe the new Covid-19 contagion is serious enough or they don’t give a damn. Rather than trust an incompetent, lying government, they would take their chances. Rather than stay cooped up in their homes like caged animals—and for what, they might ask after their previous lockdown experiences?—they would live freely to their last breath. 

The government response has been blasé. It has shown no commitment to screen the thousands of people who have been streaming into Nepal from India on a daily basis. Since India placed restrictions on its nationals from traveling abroad from Indian territories following the new Covid-19 wave, many of them are making a beeline to Kathmandu in order to fly to third-country destinations. Most of them admit to evading border surveillance mechanisms that would have meant lining up for Covid-19 screening for hours. Similar apathy has characterized government efforts to import vaccines. Not even a tenth of the population has been jabbed till date. 

Private school owners meanwhile are reluctant to shut down their institutions, willfully ignoring a clear evidence of spread of a dangerous variant of Covid-19 among young students. Unlike the previous variant that afflicted mostly the elderly, this one hits the youth the hardest. Hospital beds are quickly filling up. A more credible government should have had no problem making the school owners see sense. But as the Oli government battles for its very survival, it has been badly distracted from the growing virus menace, and its credibility is crumbling fast.  

There is confusion all around. Even amid a severe shortage of vaccines, those who remain to be vaccinated are already having second thoughts after hearing of severe side-effects of the Oxford-AstraZeneca vaccines. The government has done a very poor job of communicating why getting the vaccine is worth the risk, or if people should really hold back. As it vacillates, people are coming to their own conclusions. The previous year in Bikram Sambat was a forgettable one for Nepal. The omens are ominous for 2078 BS as well.    

Whether or not the government labels it as such, the double whammy of Covid-19 and air pollution, both worsening by the day, has already created a national health emergency. Covid-19 infections are spiking in India, and we are importing them via the porous border. The number of those rendered gravely ill by the virus has shot up, as Nepali hospitals again run out of beds for new corona patients. Worryingly, health experts say the number of serious Covid-19 cases is higher this time compared to during the previous peaks. 

Compounding the crisis, the quality of air has plummeted, with Kathmandu now consistently ranking as the city with the foulest air in the world. Every resident of Kathmandu is, in effect, smoking nearly 70 cigarettes sticks every single day. Nearly everyone has itchy eyes. Head and body aches have become as common. Even some of the fittest folks are having difficulty breathing. It’s worse for the elderly and infirm. Meanwhile, air pollution has worsened the health effects of Covid-19, increasing mortality rates among the elderly. And everyone’s lives are being cut short.

The biggest problem right now is that people have zero faith in their government. Last year, the lockdowns were arbitrarily imposed and as arbitrarily lifted. Corruption and delays have marred the import of Covid-19 gears and vaccines. Ill-prepared governments, at all three tiers, appear helpless in dousing the forest fires that have sprung up right around the country. At this time of a health crisis, the country does not even have a stable government. 

Hopelessness is a dangerous thing and can easily morph into anger. The public, repeatedly lied to, is in a mood to defy the government should it declare another lockdown, or even impose much-less restrictive measures to limit the damages of the twin health crisis. The already troubling situation could get much worse. This is why it is important for the government to commit to measures to mitigate the Covid-19 pandemic and clean the foul air, lay out a workable plan, and to keep the public informed every step of the way. This isn’t something the government can solve on its own. It will have to be a collective effort. But for that the government must first be perceived as working in public interest. Failure to do so will cost lives.  

People of Kathmandu khaldo are often accused of thinking about the rest of the country only when events outside the valley inconvenience them individually. During last year’s Covid lockdown, we were livid with the hordes of people crossing over into Nepal from India without screening for the dreaded virus. At election-time, we worry about the prospect of the ‘lesser educated’ folks from the outskirts electing the wrong people to govern us. Now, we are blaming all the ‘bumpkins’ who left their fires unattended and had the valley-denizens choking for air. 

But accusing the folks of Gorkha or Gaur of carelessness is a touch rich. Of all the big and small places in the country, the valley emits by far most carbon-di-oxide and other noxious gases that contribute to air pollution and are thus responsible for the current haze over Kathmandu. That the country has received a quarter of the volume of rain it normally does this time of the year is also not their fault. Nor is lack of preparation at any level of government to handle these perennial forest fires. 

More likely, saving the country’s forests and mitigating climate change has not been high on the priority of the administrators in Kathmandu, as they don’t suffer its worst effects (until they do). This is perhaps why there is no mechanism to tackle these summer- and winter-time fires that destroy hundreds of thousands of Nepal’s green cover every year. Nor do those running the national capital seem keen on limiting the emission of harmful gases from vehicles. Despite strict regulations against it, there is no shortage of vehicles here belching thick plumes of smoke.

We also hear of plans to make the valley cleaner and greener, say, in a decade. But how do we believe these planners when not even the bare minimum is being done to cut greenhouse-gas emissions? Whatever little good we see—cycle lanes in Lalitpur, for instance—has come at the initiative of common folks determined to improve the health of the community they call home. We can now complain about stingy eyes and heavy heads all we like, but things will not change without sustained pressure from below. Otherwise, why doesn’t this potentially life-and-death issue ever become an electoral agenda? Only when the citizens push will their representatives make and implement the right agenda.