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 On April 26, 2018, Ramch­abi Barma of Duduwa rural municipal­ity’s Naya Chauferi lost his 18-month-old daughter Rita Barma. District Public Health Office Banke’s focal person for nutrition Jageshwor Bas­net says Rita died because of severe malnutrition. Accord­ing to the office, Naya Chauferi is the second most malnutri­tion-afflicted area in Banke district. The nearby malnutri­tion outpatient treatment cen­ter (OTC) of Betahani health post is currently treating 44 undernourished kids, includ­ing some from Naya Chauferi.In the past 14 months, seven newborn babies have died in just one ward of Banke’s Janaki rural munic­ipality, the worst-affected area in the district. Gagan Singh Saud, in-charge of the local Indrapur health post, informs that most of these babies were between 28 days to six months old. “Most were born premature and under­weight,” he informs.

Even though the local health posts have given different reasons for infant mortal­ity, most were in one way or another victims of malnutri­tion. According to the District Public Health Office, 92 children are suffering from malnutrition in Janaki rural municipality alone.

In the past one year, 34 women gave birth in their own homes in Indrapur of Janaki rural municipality. The locals lack awareness about nutrition, says Munic­ipality Health Coordinator Gir Bahadur Gurung. “While they sell spinach grown in their farms and milk from their cows they feed their children noodles and biscuits. No wonder they are malnour­ished,” Gurung says.

All local level units of Nepal­gunj sub-metropolitan and Kohalpur municipality have elevated levels of malnutri­tion. District malnutrition focal person Jageshwor Bas­net informs that in the past six months, 279 undernourished children have already been treated for malnutrition in the district.

Public health records show that in the past one year 270 children have died in Banke district, mostly from malnutrition.

It looks like the problem of malnutrition is getting worse. Nepalgunj’s Bheri Zonal Hos­pital has treated 1,358 under­nourished kids in the past one decade after it opened its Nutrition Rehabilitation Cen­ter. Most of the 150 malnour­ished children it treats every year on average are from Banke district.

The District of Public Health Office’s Family Planning Super­visor Basant Gaire reveals that among 12,472 children whose weights were measured last year, 1,011 were found under­weight. Among them, 423 were extremely underweight and could be considered malnourished while 588 had moderate weight. To reduce the problem of malnutrition, Banke district has partnered with various NGOs, including Helen Keller International, for better implementation of its integrated nutrition food program.

Helen Keller Internation­al’s Nutritious Food Program Coordinator Indra Auji says the state of malnutrition in the district is dire.

“Under-5 child mortality from malnutrition is acute among the local Madhesi and Muslim communities,” says Auji. “Parents are not much bothered when their children are underweight or even mal­nourished. Malnourished girls are particularly neglected.”

 The Kathmandu Valley—one of Nepal’s oldest civilizations— has for centuries been a melt­ing pot for people from different ethnic, cultural and geographical backgrounds. The ancient towns of Kathmandu, Bhaktapur and Patan have a history of ancient civilizations dating back at least a 1,000 years. And it was the indigenous Newar community that traditionally shaped the valley’s cultural mosaic. The reign of the Malla confedera­tion, the historic rulers of the valley, ended with King Prithvi Narayan Shah’s conquest of Kathmandu in 1768. With this started the pro­cess of undermining Kathmandu’s indigenous heritage, the historians APEX talked to for this article said. Later, the Rana Regime (1846-1951) made Nepali the de facto official language of Nepal, a change that was later given legal approval by King Mahendra. This has a profound impact on Kathmandu.

“The declaration of Kathman­du as the country’s capital and enforcement of Nepali as official language started the process of neglect of the unique Newari dialect and script,” says Kashinath Tamot, a historian and script specialist. Although the Newari dialect is still much in use, the Newari script is on the verge of disappearing.

Migrant tongues

With the spoken dialect limit­ed to the community and cultural encroachment of the multitudes of migrants who made later Kathman­du their homes, the ethnic names of the small towns and villages within Kathmandu also changed. “Mod­ern-day place names like Thamel and Ason are shortened and cor­rupt versions of the original Newari names,” Tamot says. “With time, people started mispronouncing and shortening the original names, and now some of the names are unrecog­nizable,” says Tamot.

It is normal for the names of plac­es and festivals to change or short­en with time, Tamot adds, but the derived names can often mislead. The stories and the histories behind these places are lost and the short­ened names give wrong meanings. “Khwopa: became Bhaktapur or Bhadgaon, the latter name derived from a combination of Newari, Sanskrit and Nepali dialects. Similar­ly, the Bishwagat Ketu jatra became Bisket jatra, losing the original meaning,” he says.

“The Newari names of places around Kathmandu are not just nouns, they are adjectives as well. If you understand the meaning behind the name, you know the story behind the place as well,” says Alok Siddhi Tuladhar, a documen­tarian of Kathmandu’s traditional culture. “The names given to var­ious ‘toles’, ‘bahals,’ ‘gallis’ and towns define the places based on their unique characteristics.”

He gives the example of the modern-day Thamel, whose origi­nal Newari name is “Than Bahee,” roughly translated as “the small temple above.” (As the Bishnu­mati river settlement by the side of Thamel is at a lower altitude, Thamel is referred to as being ‘above.’) “There are many more instances when the original names and the meanings have been com­pletely changed just because people from ruling communities found them difficult to pronounce,” Tuladhar complains.

Many permanent residents of Kathmandu will be surprised to know that the original name for Thapathali was “Nwakhusicho”. The name was changed after the Thapa families in the area rose to power. Similarly, the Durbarmarg we know of today was called “Jamala Khwata” before the Shah dynasty took over Naaran Hitii (traditional water sprouts of Newa settlements) to the north and built the Narayan­hiti Royal Palace that still stands today. The area with the Parliament House in New Baneshwor was called “Khuntoo,” a name that is now used only by some senior citizens of Yala (Patan), specifically residents of Gachhen, Chyasal and Lunkhusi.

“With the loss of the original names of our localities, we’re slow­ly losing our identity. The only hope of reviving our history is raising awareness and making the govern­ment aware that the kind of cultural encroachment we are witnessing will one day completely banish the history of the Newar community,” Bajracharya says. Tamot agrees that the state should take the lead in preservation and revival of ethnic names of localities. “They call Nepal a republic but where is the prior­ity to indigenous communities it entails? Why are provincial languag­es so neglected?” he asks.

History and origin

Newa activist Rukshana Kapa­li, who also runs a Facebook page called “Reviving native names in Nepa Valley & Nepal Mandal,” has a more radical view on the ‘standard­ization’ of traditional Newari names. “It is a part of the ethno-lingual hegemony started by the foreign rul­ers in Kathmandu. There is a history of systematic suppression of indige­nous people in Nepal,” Kapali says. “For a long time they made the use of our language illegal and with that our names fell out of common use.”

Although Kapali admits that many localities have had Sanskrit names side by side, the old names have been systematically and intentional­ly replaced. “The Newar names are also associated with the history and origin of the place,” she says. “But people have given new names to these places which have no relation to their origins. For instance, Thimi is being replaced by Madhyapur, a name that has got nothing to do the rich history of the place.”

The cost of modernity has been the loss to Kathmandu’s rich tradi­tions. While talking to many peo­ple of the Newari community for this story, we found many of them were dissatisfied with the “suppress­ing” of their culture and tradition. From people expressing their open hostility to the proposed “mod­ernizing and beautification” of the Newari heritage sites destroyed by earthquakes to community leaders working to preserve the Newari fes­tivities that are becoming extinct due to lack of funding, the Newar community of the Nepa: Valley final­ly seems to be in a mood to reclaim their lost heritage. 

 With less than two weeks for the start of Nepal’s biggest festi­val of Dashain, the food crisis in Barekot rural municipality of Jajarkot district is getting worse. Locals fret about how they will fill their tummy this festive season. According to Mahendra Shah, the chairman of the rural municipality, the food crisis is partly a result of hail and heavy rains destroy­ing local crops. There has been some level of food crisis in Barekot ever since the wheat and barley plantations were destroyed back in April. Shah complains that even though he asked for 5,000 quintals of rice from the central government three months ago, the food aid is yet to come through.

Most people in the rural municipality are under the official poverty line. “They are not in a position to buy and eat. Nor does the local govern­ment have a budget for it. This is why we sought the help of the federal government,” he says. “There is effectively no food in the households here this festive season.”

The local depot of the gov­ernment-owned Nepal Food Corporation (NFC) lies empty. Some local shops in Barekot have run out of rice to sell. In the shops that still have some, prices have more than dou­bled, making it unaffordable for most locals.

As the monsoon rains also destroyed the roads, food transport has been hin­dered. At present, horses and ponies are the only means to get around. With the roads blocked, the 51 quintals of rice that was sent to Barekot from Khalanga, the district head­quarters, has been stranded in Fulchauli.

“All the grain we had is fin­ished. If food transport does not resume soon, the situation could be dire,” says Ran Baha­dur Singh, a local.

The NFC had set aside 2,100 quintals of rice for the Barekot depot but the rural municipal­ity is yet to get this rice due to transport problems. NFC Jajar­kot Chief Dharma Bahadur Basnet says that the 32 quintals of rice that was reserved for the district has already been distributed. “Rice sent from other districts are stuck on bad roads. Since the rice now has to be carried by horses, there has been some delay but it should soon reach Barekot,” he assures. “According to a new tender, contractors have been requested to transport rice shortly.”

The NFC offers subsidized rice to poor locals. But private dealers have been charging them as much as Rs 2,500 for a 30-kg sack, even though the market rate is just Rs 1,200. A local of Borekot-2, Manbire Nepali, says he is unable to buy any rice even though he is ready to pay up to double the going rate.

Says Gorakh Bahadur Singh, the principal of the Birendra Aishwarya Higher Secondary School, “It’s a huge problem. The poor are simply being priced out of the rice market.”

Meanwhile, it has been a month since Barekot NFC depot in-charge Rudra Bahadur Devkota has been out of reach.

‘Where do they transfer the entire city’s garbage?’ ‘How is there not a speck of dust anywhere?’ This corre­spondent repeatedly caught her­self wondering on a recent visit to Tokyo. Public bathrooms there were spotless, roads super-clean, and it seemed even the gardens did not have any dust or dirt. For someone from Kathmandu, the level of clean­liness was surreal.

While there, I started becoming conscious of the waste that I was throwing away. After eating chips or chocolates, I would keep the wrappers in my pocket so that I could toss them into the nearest dustbin. The clean environment also got me thinking. Above all, I wanted to know how Tokyo dis­posed of its garbage.

I later found out that just like Kath­mandu, the Japanese capital too relies on landfill sites. But there is a crucial difference. For instance, in Tokyo, untreated waste is not direct­ly dumped at the landfill. In the first step, every household is required by law to segregate the material that can be recycled (around 21 per­cent). After this, the waste material that can be safely burned is turned into ash, what cannot be burned is pulverized. The mixture of the two is then taken to the landfill and covered by soil, causing minimal ecological damage.

Kathmandu, meanwhile, dumps all the untreated trash directly onto the dumping sites. “It seems the Kathmandu Metropolitan City is solely focused on dumping the waste without any concern for recycling and other healthy disposal alterna­tives,” says Shobha Manandhar, a veteran environmental journalist.

Axe now falls on Banchare?

Back in 2005 the metropolitan had signed a three-year contract to throw the valley’s waste at Sis­dol of Nuwakot district. It has now been 13 years and the KMC con­tinues to use the same land­fill. Only now is Banchare Danda, also in Nuwakot, being explored as an alternative.

According to Hari Bahadur Kun­war, the chief of the Environmental Management Division of KMC, as people from all across the country flock to Kathmandu and as most of the valley is unplanned, it is only natural that there is a problem with managing the sheer volume of the waste. Since Sisdol landfill is now packed in the immediate future, Kunwar adds, there is no alternative to finding another “suitable venue” like Banchare Danda.

The locals of Banchare Danda are not happy. “The government’s promises of development in the area and job opportunities for the locals do not cut ice with them,” says Manandhar.

Kunwar complains that even though everyone generates waste, no one wants to see it dumped any­where near them. For instance the metropolitan is now thinking of patrolling the road from Kalima­ti to Balkhu at night after receiving repeated complaints that some in the area are sneaking out to dump waste in another neighborhood.

In many countries, people are required to segregate waste, and waste management technology has improved so much that the trash these days is seen more as a resource than a burden. Sweden’s recycling program is so efficient that the country often runs out of trash. They even have to import garbage from abroad to keep their facilities humming. Among other things, the waste, after its controlled burning, is used to heat people’s homes via the National Heating Network.

Manandhar says that rather than thinking about managing waste, a better idea is to reduce it at the source. Kunwar agrees that most important actors in waste manage­ment are the citizens who generate it. “80 percent of the waste does not need to be picked up from house­holds because they are either recy­clable or degradable,” he says. But although the gov­ernment has run several awareness campaigns in this regard, there has not been much headway.

But can’t folks be asked to segregate waste so that at least the recyclable stuff can be reused? Kunwar says the municipality right now does not have the req­uisite technology for recy­cling. “That doesn’t mean it will always be impossi­ble,” he adds.

The sustainable road

There have been some novel approaches as well. Green Road Waste Man­agement, a company working for plastic waste management, has built a model road in Pokhara using plastic waste. Bimal Bastola, the co-founder of the company, says the road will be inspected and ana­lyzed for durability for a year. Meanwhile, plans are afoot to build 1-2 km of road in Kirtipur and Godawari utilizing plas­tic waste from local communities. Bastola says permanent collection centers may soon be set up in Kir­tipur and Godawari. After enough research, this company plans to push for a policy that will make the use of plastic waste mandatory in road-building. Pokhara municipality has already been approached with this idea, he informs.

Other organizations are also employing innovative ideas. CWIN Nepal’s ‘Banners to Bags’ initiative uses the banners—the kind we wit­nessed in abundance during the recent BIMSTEC Summit in Kath­mandu—which would otherwise end up in landfill, to make handy and funky bags. At-risk youth and marginalized women are hired to sew these bags. Taalo is another upcycling firm that makes fabric accessories such as neckties, bow­ties and headbands using wasted textiles from factories.

There are other companies too that sell stuff made of waste but most of these products tend to be expensive. Devashree Niraula, an environmentalist, suspects this may be due to the small-scale production and lack of right technology to mass produce eco-friendly products. She says most people have got it back­wards. “They complain about high prices. But if more people started buying them, they would be pro­duced in larger quantities and the prices would tumble.”

“The public should be given the incentive to segregate waste,” says Pankaj Panjiyar, business head of Doko Recyclers, a waste manage­ment company. “People will be more than happy to do so if they are paid back in cash or kind”. Panjiyar says that if the government cannot do so on its own, it can at least give interested private compa­nies a helping hand.