Submit your Article

Chiya is a culture in Nepal. So is chiya kharcha. That dreaded extra at government offices (much like service charge and VAT at restaurants) is what gets our work done and with minimal hassle. But every time our wallets are a bit lighter, we feel a little wronged.

Sociologist Chaitanya Mishra says these under-the-table dealings all of us are so accustomed to is basically abuse of power and position. Unfortunately, it has its roots in history—our grandparents and their parents did it—and thus its hold is still strong. What’s also true is that most of us like to speed things up (as government offices can be notoriously slow) or to not have to wait in long queues or shuttle from window to window, and don’t mind parting with a few thousand rupees (and often more) for it.

“People have money. What they don’t have is time and patience and the willingness to follow protocol when a shortcut is available,” says Mishra. So, we might crib about a system where chiya kharcha is all too pervasive but we are the ones who are, in fact, perpetuating it.

Of the 25 people ApEx spoke to, 21 said they had given chiya kharcha at various government offices in Kathmandu—wards, municipalities, land revenue offices, and the department of transport being the most common places. Thirteen of the 25 said they were asked for a certain amount while eight had offered money themselves in exchange for ‘help’.

Sanjib Shrestha, proprietor, Wicked Villa Resort, says he dislikes the idea of chiya kharcha. However, sometimes it’s inescapable. For instance, he had to finish some official work before the lockdown this year and he was told it would take at least a week, by when the lockdown would have come into effect. Rs 40,000 got the work done in an hour.

“Many government employees are just looting the public. But when the entire system is corrupt, you succumb,” he says.

People’s perception of corruption in Nepal is the worst among 17 Asian countries as surveyed by the global anti-corruption advocacy group, Transparency International. According to the Global Corruption Barometer-Asia, 58 percent of the respondents said corruption had increased the most in Nepal in the past year.

Chiya kharcha is a small part of a larger corrupt system where money and connection can facilitate even illegitimate matters. But it’s supposedly the most frustrating as it makes people feel helpless. It’s also testimony to the great divide between the have and the have-nots, a ‘those who can afford it will be given the service while those who can’t must suffer’ attitude of governance.

Worse, it seems quite evident that grease money is the basis of Nepali polity and corruption of our democracy. So, most people seem to have simply given up, accepting bribery as part of our culture—a necessary evil. Every project, big or small, has a chiya kharcha budget.

Auditor Khagendra Pokhrel says giving chiya kharcha at government offices—to those who are already drawing steady and perhaps hefty salaries (perks not included)—is an irresponsible and immoral thing to do on the public’s part. But when you stand to suffer because of someone else’s lack of integrity, it’s also the only way out.

Every government office has a citizen’s charter in its premises. It clearly states the role of that office and its staff as well as the time it’s going to take to complete the various tasks that particular department is assigned. Failing that, the public has the right to lodge a complaint.

However, the process is long. It further delays your work. And, more likely than not, the blame will ultimately be pinned on slow internet or some other technical glitch, says Pokhrel.

Sociologist Mishra says chiya kharcha is the result of a society that equates position with privilege. Government offices are thus places of service—not for the public but for the officials working there. The attitude is, if you want something, you have to be subservient. Pokhrel adds that holding your ground and not giving chiya kharcha creates a hostile environment.

However, Mishra says all is not lost. He reckons the tendency to ask for chiya kharcha in many government offices is on the decline. In most places it’s not as overt as it was before, he says, and that’s a hopeful start of an imminent change. What the public can do now, he adds, is try and ignore the covert hints.

Swarup Acharya, journalist, Kantipur Publications, believes the reason behind government officials’ hesitance to outrightly ask for chiya kharcha in recent times is the real possibility of sting operations and other similar exposes.

“Everybody and anybody could be carrying a hidden camera or recording the conversation on their phones these days. There are many YouTubers and bloggers doing just that and posting such content online,” says Acharya. That, he adds, has made them a lot more vigilant and less likely to ask for chiya kharcha or bribes which is essentially what it is.

Turns out chiya kharcha doesn’t necessarily always have to be in cash either. Grishma Ojha, project coordinator, Help Code Nepal, says there have been people who have asked for groceries and other such supplies in exchange for their services or favors. The fact remains Nepalis have to part with more than the stipulated amount for official works.

And there is nothing chiya kharcha won’t get done. From easy school admissions to same-day issuing of passports, everything has a price. Fourteen years ago, a recent college graduate failed his driving license trial. For Rs 13,000, he got a license a couple of days later. Another woman in Lalitpur got hers delivered at home for Rs 50,000 a few years ago. A woman who wasn’t born in Nepal has a birth certificate certifying she was. A 55-year-old got vaccinated against Covid-19 when Nepal was apparently only vaccinating people above 65. The Rs 2,500 she spent at the ward office for a recommendation was worth every paisa, she says.

Sociologist Mishra says chiya kharcha will be a part of our lives unless there is an efficient and accountable government. It’s not something individual action can change. As bleak as that might sound, the truth is we are all victims of a corrupt system. For every person who doesn’t give or take chiya kharcha, there are at least a dozen who will.

“What we can and should do is talk about it. Let’s not remain silent and accept it as a part of life,” concludes Mishra.

When the Covid-19 pandemic broke out in Wuhan in December 2019, the first response of authorities in China was to seal the city. As the virus spread, similar measures were adopted all over the mainland. The safety of Chinese citizens was prioritized and foreign nationals were asked to leave.

Among those sent home were over half a million international students from 196 countries. In due course, Nepali students in China also returned home on evacuation flights. Those already home on their winter break were told to cancel their return tickets. The notice was clear: Stay put where it is safe and trust the authorities.

Around 18 months have passed since and international students have yet to return to China. Despite their online classes, students belonging to STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics) majors have been unable to attend lab classes, severely limiting their education. Students whose final year exams are due soon fear that their degrees will be invalid. A huge number of international students in China are pursuing medical education and lack of practical learning prevents them from finishing the required credits to graduate.

Arya Sigdel, a Biology major, came home to Nepal on her winter break last January. Ten days into her vacation, her university told her to stay put until further notice. “Some of my friends had even left their laptops and books in their dorms. We were supposed to be gone only for a month,” she says. A month turned into 18. Sigdel’s four-year-course is halfway done and she has yet to receive necessary lab credits needed for graduation.

Sigdel’s plight is one shared by over 3,000 Nepali students. Sigdel’s friend, Icchya Sharma, who is pursuing a two-year graduate degree, has since finished her course. “I feel uncomfortable though. I have a Chinese degree despite having spent less than six months in China,” she says.

Suraj Bhandari, a Chinese Scholarship Council beneficiary, was in China studying software engineering. His scholarship is at risk of being revoked as it requires annual renewals. “As we don’t have the go-ahead to return from Chinese authorities, I don’t know what to do next,” Bhandari explains. Manoj Bhatta, another CSC scholarship recipient, shares that his university is eager to welcome back its students but he will still be unable to return without the go-ahead of the Chinese Embassy in Kathmandu.

Echoing Bhandari, Suhana Bajracharya, a final year medical student, worries about what will become of her medical degree. She has yet to take the practical classes required for graduation and has no opportunities for internships. She heard the news that other medical universities in China have begun teaching surgery and conducting hospital visits online, but her university has announced no such programs. “University policies differ widely,” she explains. “But even if I were to attend such programs, I don’t think I would earn any credibility as a medical professional upon my graduation.”

As China finds success in controlling the virus, it is starting to open its international borders—but only for select countries. Last August, when China announced that South Korean citizens would get visas for work or education, thousands of international students rejoiced. For sure, this meant that other countries would, in due course, be allowed entry as well. But nothing of the sort happened. South Korean students are back in their universities in China and continuing their academic pursuits normally.

The rest of the international students are still waiting. Several online campaigns from South Asian, African, European countries are taking social media by storm. Under #TakeUsBackToChina, international students are pressuring their governments to advocate for their return and asking answers from the Chinese authorities.

Several open letters have been addressed to the UN, embassies of several countries, and the Chinese foreign ministry. Students have also taken to explaining their different circumstances and how without being allowed to return, their futures remain dark. Some South Korean students have entered China without being vaccinated, which has been the point of contention for many international students who were denied entry despite having received China-made vaccines.

They are struggling to understand the yardsticks the Chinese government is using to protect its citizens.  

So far their campaigns have yielded smattering responses from Chinese representatives who continue to assure that honoring the academic pursuits of international students remains their priority.

However, they are yet to give a return date. Rumors that the next academic year will be suspended are rampant, adding to the students’ restlessness. Nepali students have written an open letter to the Nepali government and the Chinese Ambassador to Nepal Hou Yanqi. But so far there has been no response.

Anantha Iyer, one of many concerned parents, writes on his social media account, “We trusted the Chinese government and took the bold step to enroll them in various universities across China. Our Children are losing out on a vital learning phase and are anxious about their futures.” Several frustrated students have sought psychological help and Sigdel says news of student suicides is daily news on her WhatsApp group.

Students say the best time for their return is between July and August while Chinese universities have summer breaks. This will allow them sufficient time to quarantine and vaccinate. “The biggest trouble here is that we don’t know what will happen come September when the universities reopen. We don’t have time to prepare ourselves. Most frustrating is the lack of communication from the Chinese government,” Sigdel says. Chinese authorities are asking for patience. But students are questioning: Just how many more months are they supposed to wait?

(Some student names have been changed at their request)

Visitors to Pokhara this October can savor the breathtaking aerial views of the Fewa Lake, the city, and mountains such as Annapurna, Dhaulagiri, and Machhapuchhre onboard a gondola of the soon-to-be-launched cable car service.

The service connects Sarangkot, one of the most popular destinations in the Lake City to observe the rising sun, to Sedibagar on the banks of the Fewa.

“Construction had been delayed due to the corona crisis. As soon as the first lockdown was over, a team of Japanese technicians arrived and installed the gondolas,” says Tirtha Raj Tripathi, director of Annapurna Cablecar Pvt Ltd, the company setting up the service. 

Tripathi informs that the launch of the service was postponed due to the second wave of Covid-19 infections. As soon as covid restrictions are lifted, a Japanese technical team will come to Pokhara. He says the company hopes to launch the cable car service in the period between Dashain and Tihar. 

Fares for the trip to Sarangkot and back have also been fixed. A ticket will cost Rs 600 per person for Nepalis and Rs 700 for Asian tourists. The ticket will be priced at Rs 800 for tourists from elsewhere. Tripathi also adds that students and the elderly will be eligible for a 20 to 25 percent discount. The system has 18 gondolas—17 for ferrying passengers and one for cargo. The company has also set up a view tower in Sarangkot and a restaurant is also being prepared.

The estimated cost of the project has gone up several times due to the Covid-19 situation. Tripathi says that the project also had to procure more land than planned and increments in prices of construction materials hiked costs. According to Tripathi, the project’s price tag now stands at Rs 2 billion. 

A team of entrepreneurs, including Kalu Gurung, chairman of Annapurna Cable Car Pvt Ltd had begun work on the project four years ago. The cable car can serve 1,500 people per hour. 

Monsoon is a hot topic right now. And rightly so. It has just started and already there has been a steady stream of gut-wrenching news of floods and landslides. The problem, however, is that monsoon is only an issue during monsoon. Once the rain abates, we forget about the devastation it left in its wake. We will, for sure, talk about it again. But until next monsoon, there will be other issues to occupy us.

It’s this attitude of the country towards water-induced disasters that leads to a déjà vu like situation in Nepal year after year. Our approach to disaster management is rescue and relief operations-centric rather than focused on preventive measures. Dil Kumar Tamang, operation chief, National Emergency Operation Center, Ministry of Home Affairs, doesn’t deny this. He says minimizing disasters and the potential losses—of both infrastructure and lives—should get as much importance, if not more.

“We are trying to work out ways in which we can prevent and mitigate disasters,” says Tamang. However, there is, he adds, a need to learn from past mistakes and revise plans accordingly as well as emulate international practices of disaster prevention. The main focus should be on developing reliable early warning systems that will give people enough time to get to higher ground.

Geologist Prof. Dr. Bishal Nath Upreti emphasizes the need to install weather forecasting and radar stations throughout the country to make real time data collection and analysis possible. Only accurate weather prediction can help mitigate the effect of natural calamities in a disaster-prone country like Nepal, he says. And, we have, thus far, failed to prioritize it.  

He says when Nepal first started giving weather forecasts on television and radio, a running joke was that the forecaster would look out of the window at the time he was scheduled to go on air to check whether it was sunny or cloudy. Dr Upreti laments that our weather forecasting system today isn’t a whole lot more advanced than that. The Department of Hydrology and Meteorology (DHM) under the Ministry of Energy, Water Resources and Irrigation was until quite recently the most neglected department of all, reeling under manpower and budget constraints.

Currently, the DHM is doing whatever is in its capacity, says Tamang, but various concerned departments, the local government as well as people should work together to change the way disasters are handled in Nepal. The effect of collaborative effort can be far greater and impactful than individual action.

Full story here: Floods in Nepal: A recurring nightmare