When Gaurika Singh set eight national swimming records in the 2014 Galaxy Cup, young Nepali competitive swimmers like me were left flabbergasted. We would have been lucky to break one or two records—and here was this 13-year-old completely rewriting our record books. Singh is an inspiration for my generation. But in many ways com­paring her achievement with the achievements of other young Nepali swimmers is also unfair. Singh lives in England, where she can train, morning and night, right through the year. Swimmers here in Nepal can barely train for six months a year, and even that training is sub-par. As a national level competitive swimmer, I have experienced these problems first-hand. And so have the rest of the 130 registered swimmers who take part in national games every year, along with countless others who never make it that far.

 

 To compete internationally, we need to be able to train in an Olym­pic-sized (50m-long) swimming pool. But the only Olympic-sized pool in Kathmandu, the one at Satdobato (there is another one in Birgunj), we have to share with the public for three hours every day. Moreover, the pool is not heated in winters.

Invariably, our hard work goes down the drain during this long winter slough. National swimming head coach Ongden Lama likes to compare young Nepali swimmers to frogs in a well: “They learn to jump high, only to come crashing back”.

 

 All heat

We don’t even get bare minimum facilities. For instance, the national team should have a gym workout before training in water. But the gym at the Satdobato pool is always under lock and key. Swimmers should also consume food within 30 minutes of training. But by the time we reach our homes from Sat­dobato, it is usually too late.

The National Swimming Asso­ciation (NSA) started providing post-training diet to swimmers after the 2016 South Asian Games. But the little that is provided goes to the 10 swimmers who participate in the SAG, most of whom, in any case, can train on their own, in the Lin­coln School’s heated pool (because they are students there) or abroad (because they live there). But the rest of us are barred from Lincoln, nor do we have the wherewithal to go abroad.

 

With the funds it gets from FINA, the global competitive swimming regulator, the NSA arranges for some star athletes to go abroad and train. But no one knows what happens to the association’s own funds, collect­ed via private sponsors and parents of young swimmers. Even simple tasks, such as maintenance of the old pool, is being carried out by the Chinese government, which built the Satdobato complex in the first place.

Said one parent of a budding swimmer: “We had time and again contributed for the construction of a heated pool, to no avail”. The parent did not want to be named fearing that NSA officials, angry with her critical comment, would bar her child from future competitions.

When I asked him about the miss­ing NSA funds, Ashok Bajracharya, the president of the association, hedged: “The private sector is only just starting to see swimming as a lucrative investment. This stands us in good stead for the future”.

Signs of hope

Thankfully, after years of pleading and pressure from parents as well as swimmers, the construction of the heated pool has finally begun, with 80 percent contribution coming from the government and 20 per­cent from the NSA. Why the abrupt change of heart? Because the coun­try is again hosting the South Asian Games in March 2019. Moreover, the association needs to show FINA something tangible for all the funds it gets. Some old problems, such as leakage in the Satdobato pool, are suddenly being solved now.

Whether this is a mark of real change in the way competitive swim­ming is governed in Nepal or a blip on the NSA radar remains to be seen. Fingers crossed.