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A shrill whistle goes off as you are sitting down with your morning cup of steaming milk tea. You sigh in relief. You had started becoming slightly concerned about the overflowing trash can near the main gate. Someone is finally here to empty it out. You take a sip of your tea and pick up the newspaper.

Perhaps a similar scene plays out in most households of Kathmandu that, according to Solid Waste Management Association of Nepal, collectively generate 1,200 tons of waste a day, of which 65 percent is organic waste and 15-20 percent is recyclable. And handling our waste are around 4,000 laborers from 75 private companies and municipalities.

Kathmandu’s inability and unwillingness to segregate its waste—resulting in trash collectors having to lug heavy loads and worse, suffering cuts and injuries because of broken glasses and such—has always been glaring. But waste-pickers say that is nothing compared to how undignified their job feels. Chalk it up to the public’s attitude towards them, or the companies they work for always telling them to cater to each household’s demands and rarely ever addressing their woes, theirs is a thankless job.

“I have become accustomed to people calling me ‘fohor bhai’ and even scolding and screaming at me,” says 38-year-old Surendra Bhusal. He has been working as a trash collector in Kathmandu for a decade and, in those 10 years, not once has anyone said a kind word to him. Waste-pickers, he laments, are often treated like trash because they work with trash.

The mindset reflects in our actions. Most of us aren’t conscious or a little sensitive about what we are throwing and the fact that someone, an actual person, will have to manually sort through it. Bhusal says there are often soiled pads, broken shards of glass, kitchen waste and plastic cold drink bottles all in the same bin or plastic bag. It makes their jobs more difficult and fraught with risks. There have been times when dirty water and slime have splashed onto Bhusal’s face and clothes. It makes him feel like the lowest of the low in society, he says.

What’s worse, says 39-year-old Khadga Bahadur, is that there is no solidarity among workers which makes it difficult for them to campaign for their cause—dignified labor, sensible work hours, better pay, and health insurance.

Bahadur, who has been on the job for 16 years, works for 12 to 13 hours a day (out of which four to five hours are spent walking from one place to another), with a one-hour lunch break in-between. On average, he visits 400 to 500 houses and in half of those places he has to go inside to collect the garbage. This makes his work tedious, confusing, and time-consuming.

“Our job comes with many hidden costs. We regularly suffer from small injuries and diseases. After many years in the job, most of us develop long-term health issues,” he says. However, neither the public nor the government seem concerned and trash-collectors, without whom our households simply wouldn’t function, find themselves in a quandary. Their livelihoods depend on their ability to work but the work they do puts their health at stake.

The Covid-19 pandemic worsened their already dire situation. As essential service workers, waste-pickers have had to put aside their fears of contracting the infection and taking it back home to their families. While some have been given masks, gloves, and boots by their companies, most have had to buy their own protective gears.

Prakash Pariyar, 49, says a few of his colleagues have contracted Covid-19 but they didn’t get any financial assistance whatsoever. The hospital bills have created a dent in their savings, one they will never be able to recoup. As frontline workers, they were to receive the vaccine at the same time as police officials. However, none of the 10 trash collectors ApEx spoke to had been vaccinated. They also don’t know of anyone in their circle who has received even a single dose of the vaccine. This is when many other frontline workers—doctors, nurses, drivers, deliverymen, etc.—have taken both the prescribed doses.

“We are the nation’s forgotten people. No one cares about our wellbeing. We are as disposable as the garbage we get rid of,” says 42-year-old Bhim Bahadur Gurung. He doesn’t want to make a fuss because he knows nothing will come out of it. But he wishes to get vaccinated: Forget putting his loved ones at risk, if he contracts the infection and isn’t able to work, how will his family of five survive?

Pariyar has given up hope that their situation will improve. It’s not going to happen, at least not in his lifetime. Of that, he is sure. For 22 years, he has worked relentlessly from 5:30 am till 7:00 pm or later but the long hours he has clocked in haven’t amounted to much. There is no financial security; everything he earns is spent running the household. He isn’t a valued member of the society; most people hurl abuses at the slightest mistake and not one person knows his name. Everyone simply calls out to him as ‘fohor’, ‘oye’ and very rarely, ‘dai’.

“Some households gave us food supplies and cash during the previous lockdowns. But this time everyone is scared to have any kind of contact with us because the virus is said to be highly infectious,” says Pariyar.

What saddens trash collectors, however, isn’t that no one has come to their aid at such troubled times but the fact that they are still expected to carry on as if everything is okay all the while being acutely aware that they are feared as virus carriers. Some literally run away when they arrive while others shout instructions from the rooftops of their homes. Bhusal says they are made to feel both wanted and unwanted at the same time. Though if trash were to magically disappear, the society would pretty much wish their existence away.

Sanjay Khatri, 25, says the situation wouldn’t be so bleak if every household at least put their trash-cans outside their gates. It’s okay if they don’t want to throw their garbage in the collection vehicle themselves, he says. But the mere suggestion of that more often than not leads to a stream of accusations and insults. They are told they aren’t doing their jobs properly and threatened with disciplinary action from their offices.

“There are so many problems in our line of work that I don’t even know where to begin. It’s best I turn a blind eye and just carry on. Otherwise, it’s too hurtful,” he says.

On returning from London after graduation, Deeya Tamang tried to pursue different career paths—working at an event management company and even on television for a while—but none of it satisfied her. She wanted something to call her own.

Back in 2017, there were very few online shops in Nepal and only a few of them sold clothes. That was when Tamang, who was in her early 20s, decided to step in with ‘T’s Armoire’.

“I was always very passionate about fashion and clothing,” Tamang shares. “So I thought I’d do something on this line,” says Tamang, who took a few months’ fashion course at IEC College before venturing into her new business.

T’s Armoire was one of the first online stores in Nepal to bring in-house models to showcase their products professionally. “I wanted to be concise when it came to the content we put out,” Tamang shares. “I learned early on that you have to be transparent with your customers.”

Today, there are few young adult women in the valley who haven't heard of the brand. T’s Armoire is popular for its unique and edgy products that push the boundaries of Nepali fashion. Aside from its quality products, Tamang’s brand is also appreciated for product displays on in-house models rather than on mannequins or lush carpets like other online stores.

“I wanted people to know exactly how the clothes would look on their bodies,” she shares. It was a decision that completely changed her brand’s look. Today, she has multiple models with different skin colors, ethnicities, and body types to advertise her clothing.

Along with in-house models, the brand also has two in-house designers, including Tamang herself. Even though she prefers comfortable casual clothing, she isn’t afraid to glam it up. And in her designs, she follows the same blueprint, glamorous but comfortable.

Gone are the days when she had to rely on wholesalers and import crews. Today, T’s Armoire makes its own designs and sends them to tailors in Nepal, Bangladesh, and even China.

“I want to experiment with more Nepali textiles and ingredients,” the entrepreneur tells ApEx. Much of her shop’s products are Western fashion for women but she wants to take the Nepali style to global markets.

And she believes her plan will work because she sees many orders coming from foreign countries. But Tamang says success didn’t come to her easily. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in this journey,” Tamang says. “But I learn from each mistake and never repeat it.”

It took a long time for her to gain her customers’ trust—especially in a society that bought cheap clothes from retail shops and only after trying them on. Now, Tamang feels she has earned that trust.

But her ambitions know no bounds. Her purpose has begun to take shape and she wants what many dream of but few achieve—global recognition. Her failures have taught her far more than has success. “I was fired from the event management company I worked for and until a few years ago, I was just a young dreamer who had started a shop with the little savings she had,” she shares. “And today I have my own successful company.”

“I think I’m the definition of self-made,” Tamang says. “No one believed in me at first and I had to prove myself to them.” With the brand’s outlet in Jhamsikhel turning into one of the most sought-after fashion hubs in the Valley and the online store amassing over 108,000 followers on Instagram, Tamang feels like she has.

As the second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic hit Nepal, governments at all levels were under pressure to make quick decisions to save lives. Perhaps local government representatives who are directly in contact with people day to day were under most pressure to help the infected and save terminally ill patients. While some mayors made tall promises and failed to deliver, others led from the front to fight the pandemic. ApEx talked to the heads of nine local bodies asking about their experience managing the crisis.      

Bidur Kumar Karki
Bardibas Municipality

When the second wave of Covid-19 infections hit Nepal and the supply of oxygen needed for treatment was scarce, Bardibas Municipality didn’t have any oxygen plants. As patient numbers began shooting up, the town faced another scarcity: that of trained human resources and medical equipment. 

But Mayor Bidur Kumar Karki didn’t give up hope. His team fought the pandemic making the most of available resources. Karki’s most effective program has been ‘Ghar Gharma Swasthakarmi’ through which a team of medical officers visited every house informing people about the disease. 

Free swab collection for Covid-19 testing at Bardibas Municipality

When the total positive cases hit 98, the city also enforced a tough lockdown--most citizens abided by it. Karki is thankful to every citizen of his city following prohibitory orders. Thanks to the measures, the number of Covid cases in the town has gone down significantly.

But that doesn’t mean the town should let its guard down, says Karki. “We need to prepare for another wave,” he says. “We realized that If we had a hall in every ward, we would have done much better,” Karki says. “So, our municipality has proposed a plan to construct multi-purpose halls in every ward in the coming fiscal year.” 

Bhim Neupane
Panauti Municipality 

Because of its proximity to Dhulikhel and Banepa hospitals, Panauti Municipality never felt the need to set up its own hospital. But this pandemic has taught them a lesson. 

“We will immediately build a hospital in our area,” says Mayor Bhim Neupane, whose team has worked relentlessly to help save lives at the local level.

He rues not getting any assistance from the provincial or central government. “Our municipality and citizens feel left out,” he says, due to the sheer negligence of the authorities who should be acting like our parents. Yet with the help of civil society and non-profits, we are doing our best, he adds.

Neupane and his team built an isolation center in the town so that patients could get basic treatment. Provisions were also made to rush terminally ill patients to Dhulikhel or Banepa. 

“We have enough isolation centers,” Neupane says with confidence as the municipality prepares to fight a possible new wave.

Dilip Kumar Agrawal
Rangeli Municipality

Rangeli municipality didn’t have money to fund its campaign against Covid-19 when the second wave struck. 

The city under Dilip Kumar Agrawal stopped all its development works and funneled the money to combating Covid-19. He faced a lot of criticism for making such a bold move.

“We can build roads later,” Agrawal says. “But right now we need to save people’s lives.” There was a small hospital in their district and a new emergency ward was being constructed when the first wave hit. Agrawal and his team turned that emergency building into a treatment center for infected patients. 

As they didn’t have enough doctors, the city hired more doctors from nearby districts. The municipality brought in oxygen cylinders and PCR test kits from all over the country. 

“Those pieces of equipment were expensive but we didn’t get a dime from the federal government throughout the second wave,” Agrawal says. Budget relocation is going to hurt the municipality’s development but the mayor sees no other option.

Khadga Bahadur Khatri
Kamalamai Municipality

For Kamalamai Municipality, the biggest difficulty was finding a place to isolate sick people. Lack of preparation hurt the town badly and it took time for everyone to come together and build a place for the patients to isolate themselves.

“Finding an appropriate place to set up an isolation center was difficult,” says Mayor Khadga Bahadur Khatri. He and his team allocated a budget for a proper place to keep the patients and a new hospital to treat Covid-19 patients was also built. In addition to the hospital, a total of 47 isolation centres have been set up across town.

Khadga Bahadur Khatri, mayor of Kamalamai Municipality, inquiring about the health of home-isolating people

Following the construction of the new hospital, the city has also installed an oxygen plant to overcome the problem of oxygen shortage. 

As only a small number of vaccine doses have been distributed by the federal government to outlying districts, Khatri has ensured that only eligible people get them. The pandemic’s situation has greatly improved in the municipality and Khatri is confident he and his team are better prepared for another wave.

Laxmi Narsing Bade Shrestha
Banepa Municipality

When the pandemic was at its peak in Banepa, says Mayor Laxmi Narsing Bade Shrestha, they didn’t receive any help from the federal government to manage the crisis.

But that didn’t stop Shrestha from taking action. The municipality’s officials raised funds by diverting the money set aside for the people’s representatives’ allowances. Similarly, budgets for other activities were also diverted. Almost Rs 10.5 million has now been allocated for the health sector.

“A separate hospital for Covid-19 patients has been built,” Shrestha shares. “It has the resources we didn’t have six months ago. We weren’t prepared when the first wave hit. But now that we’ve seen how the worst consequences can be averted, I believe we’re a lot more prepared for action if another wave were to come.”

A group of experts and first-responders has been formed to coordinate efforts against the virus and prepare for future waves.

Nar Bahadur Thapa Magar
Ramechhap Municipality 

Managing quarantine centers for people coming from Kathmandu and other parts of the country was one of the biggest challenges Mayor Nar Bahadur Thapa Magar and his team faced during the second wave of Covid-19. In addition, conducting PCR tests and contact tracing were also difficult due to the shortage of test kits.

Ramechhap Municipality established an Emergency and Disaster Management Fund and designated a committee of experts to run it. Committee members included representatives of the municipality, head of police, CDO, civil society representatives and hospital officials. The committee set up isolation centers in different parts of the city and made provisions for antigen tests to isolate people infected with Covid-19.

When the city faced an oxygen shortage, Magar worked closely with the district hospital to secure supplies. 

Nirsal Sah
Malangwa Municipality 

When the second wave of Covid-19 infections emerged in Malangawa, the city was faced with an acute shortage of oxygen. 

It was then that Mayor Nirsal Sah understood the importance of setting up an oxygen plant at the municipality. The city has now awarded the contract to do so. 

“The oxygen plant that is being installed will come into operation soon,” says Sah, who is disappointed with the federal government for not supporting local officials to manage the Covid-19 crisis. 

But that hasn’t stopped Sah from proactively trying to save lives. Despite the challenges, the city has arranged oxygen and ventilators for the ill. It also has plans to build an isolation center by collaborating with neighboring municipalities. Plus, the mayor has plans to rope in more doctors, experts, and medical personnel to work in his area.

Sah is happy with the help and support from civil society, citizens, NGOs, and donors. “They come to the meeting with suggestions and innovative ideas,” he says.

Rita Kumari Mishra
Janakpurdham Sub-Metropolitan City

When the government enforced a lockdown last year to contain the spread of Covid-19, Deputy Mayor of Janakpurdham Rita Kumari Mishra and her team organized a campaign to make people aware of the effects of the disease and to encourage them to stay home. 

“In addition to running TV ads and radio programs, we opened isolation wards for the sick as soon as positive cases started coming in,” says Mishra.

When the case-load started growing, the municipality encouraged people to isolate themselves. In emergency cases, they were provided with oxygen cylinders and other necessities rather than having their family members going around searching for them.

Officials of Janakpur Sub-Metropolitan City inspecting a local isolation center

“When someone tested positive, we shared medical experts and doctor’s phone numbers with them so that they could call them for guidance or information on their symptoms,” Mishra continues. “This quelled their paranoia and also created space in hospitals for patients who actually needed critical care.”

The local government has created a community to battle the virus. The community is divided into five teams, each visiting different wards and collecting information on which families have been infected, how many need assistance, what medical equipment they need and if they need to be shifted to isolation wards.

The second lockdown, however, hasn’t been as effective as the first one. “Daily wage earners are struggling to stay still as they have families to feed,” she shares. Most frontline and daily wage workers are using precautions to stay safe, so the municipality isn’t arguing with them, she adds.

Vaccine dissemination hasn’t been that good either. Frontline workers and a few older citizens have received the first dose but other than that, the majority is still at risk. The municipality is working to get more vaccines into the region so they can reopen again.

Vijay Kumar Sarawagi
Birgunj Metropolitan City

Birgunj is one of the biggest industrial and economic hubs of the country. This status became a curse for the city during the pandemic as it is home to the biggest border crossing between Nepal and India, the epicenter of the second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic. 

Mayor Sarawagi and his team had learned their lesson during the first wave. Lack of testing at the border had allowed infection to spread like wildfire in the city. This time, the city was determined to do something about it.

“We established help desks and health desks at all entry points,” Sarawagi says. The city conducted antigen tests on returnees mobilizing its own resources.

Neither the central government nor provincial authorities helped Birgunj Metropolitan City directly, Sarawagi complains. The government only assisted hospitals and the district administration office. 

But Sarawagi is satisfied with the help the city got from the civil society, district administration, police, doctors, and everyone involved. The mayor is now lobbying with the government to provide vaccines to his citizens.

“The only way to save lives is to vaccinate people,” he concludes.

When Keshav Thapa was growing up, he liked dancing. But there was no one to teach him how to. The only option was to observe dancers and film stars and to come up with his own moves.  

“No one taught me how to dance, I learned it on my own,” says Thapa, Today, founder of Iris Dance Studio and lead choreographer for Miss Nepal pageants. “I wasn’t trying to copy anyone, I was simply doing what I loved, dancing to the tunes on reels and music cassettes,” Thapa remembers.

 “I grew up with little to no access to things that could help me improve my skills,” Thapa tells ApEx. “There was no internet back then. And we’d rarely get movies or music videos.” 

Little did he know that his hobby would soon become his career. It was only when he received a full-ride scholarship to attend a dancing school in Kolkata—for which he was selected after auditioning dozens of applicants—that he understood that he had it in him to become a dancer. After graduation, Thapa planned to head to Mumbai like the rest of his colleagues, but he understood that competition in a big industry such as Bollywood would be extremely tough. “I had no yearning to fight for scraps,” says Thapa.

Instead, he came home to Kathmandu, where he established his studio, started conducting workshops and choreographing for the Miss Nepal titleholders who go abroad for international pageants. As he continued working in the capital, he soon realized that Kathmandu was full of talented dancers, and it was areas outside the city that needed his skills.

His resolve was further bolstered after he participated in the reality television show Dancing with the Stars Nepal to dance alongside Sristi KC, a blind social activist advocating for equal rights for the visually impaired and the founder of Blind Rocks Nepal. Thapa did the choreography for most of their performances throughout the show.

“I was extremely hesitant to participate in the show,” he says. “When you’re a dancer and choreographer by profession, people expect you to win the title no matter what.” He felt the pressure from the audience from the very beginning. But his feelings changed after being paired with KC. “After being introduced to her, my goal to win morphed into a determination to enjoy the journey of the program. Teaching Sristi dance was a completely new experience for me.” He feels that, even though he taught Sristi to dance, he learned far more from her.

After the show, he headed to Surkhet and opened his dancing program there. What was even more surprising was the enthusiastic feedback he received during the process. Just during the first four months before the second lockdown, Thapa trained around 140 students. 

Among them, more than 70 were children. Since it would be difficult to start with the technicalities of dancing, he first started with cardio, Zumba, and simple dance movements. For the kids, he added more skills to his programs such as public speaking and personality development activities.

“That’s one thing I was never prepared for,” Thapa says. “I had always viewed celebrity life from the media’s lens. But once people started knowing me, it was never as glamorous. The trick is to be able to handle yourself in tough situations. You need to learn to compromise and have the work ethic that can pull you outside the bubble of constant pressure.”

Since the lockdown, pressure has eased a bit. Thapa hasn’t been unable to continue dance lessons in Surkhet. He conducted a few online classes for members of Blind Rocks Nepal. But the online classes proved to be difficult since he was only limited to verbal communication with blind participants.

But he has plans to continue the classes after the lockdown ends. Thapa will return to Kathmandu to prepare Namrata Shrestha, Miss Nepal 2021 for the international Miss World pageant and will also continue teaching at his Iris Dance Studio.

But his heart will still remain in Surkhet. .“I remember what I had to go through. As a dancer, I had no one to look up to,” Thapa says. “And I don’t want the next generation, no matter where they’re from, to not get to do something just because they didn’t have someone to teach them.”