only slightly censored
It’s been a rather dark week of gray skies and intermittent rain; however, when
the skies have cleared, we’ve been afforded spectacular views of the vast
Himalayan ranges—quite a treat this time of year. My office, however, is
something of a meat locker, as many if not most of Nepali offices tend to be,
so I have taken to keeping a hot water bottle on my lap to keep my hands
warm—that, and many, many cups of chai. It’s not as if we experience blizzards
here in the KTM valley, but due to the lack of heated buildings—there aren’t
any—it’s hard to shake the chill in one’s bones. As I cycle to work in the
mornings, I see group after group of women standing in some sunny spot, woolen
shawls wrapped around their bodies revealing only their eyes, warming
themselves—everyone, seemingly, outside of their brick and concrete dwellings.
The normally active street dogs curl up wherever the sun shines—a pile of
gravel, a heap of rubbish—normally in the vacant lot cum building supply
storage area opposite our house. Cows, not much bothered, still try to figure
out the potentiality of consuming pink plastic bags…
I ventured to the immigration office yesterday as the one-year anniversary of
our arrival in country quickly approaches. As my official visa appears to have
found a permanent home on the desk of some bureaucrat in the ministry of social
welfare, women and children, I am forced to get a temporary tourist visa until
the official one is approved (renewed), and this process requires that the
immigration officer personally have a look at my passport. It’s all a bit of a
drama, really: I need some sort of valid visa in my passport in order to get an
extension on my official visa, yet even though it is in the process of being
renewed, that does not count, and seeing as how the tourist and official visa
bureaucrats don’t communicate very well, I am compelled to say that my work has
finished and I only need a visa to do a bit of sightseeing… There, with a motley
crew of buffed out trekkers and new age seekers, I wait my turn in the queue.
Meanwhile, the immigration officer—whose approval I need—stands outside with a
group of friends or colleagues picking his nose (side note: the pick is
normally an auspicious sign—at the Indian Embassy, the consulate officer while
approving my visa with the all important red pen, picked his nose with the left
hand while flicking the bounty nonchalantly into the air. The pick is a good
sign) and holding hands with his colleagues. It’s all very chummy and
inefficient at the same time. A few hours later, he returns to his desk, flips
through the pages of my passport and seems satisfied enough for approval. I
managed to complete a couple hours of work at the office later in the
afternoon…
Having travelled and lived enough in Asia (and not meaning to pigeonhole too
much), this process is all too familiar and not frustrating at all. Signs of
anger or displeasure get one nowhere generally, not to mention being my style,
and so whether my patience has developed out of necessity or inner peace
doesn’t matter so much as does tolerance being the key. Of course every
country has its own idiosyncrasies and difficulties (witness the US’s own
immigration service now shelved under the homeland security), which anyone who
has travelled or lived abroad knows all too well. Would an official visa
(separate line at the airport for diplomats and officials! Although, sadly, not
often manned) from the government be this easy? And would I be able to come
away with this much material?
February 1, 2005
All of the rumors and scuttlebutt have come to a head—this morning His Majesty
took to the airwaves to announce that he was assuming control of the
government, suspending multi-party democracy for the time being, placing party
leaders—the [former] prime minister included—under house arrest and declaring a
state of emergency. I will first say, dear readers, that things are blissfully
calm in the capital despite all phone lines, including mobile service, and
electricity being cut in addition to the closing of the international airport
eerily just minutes before the King made his announcement. Indeed, the
omnipotence of such a move is downright Orwellian, yet, despite the
overwhelming presence of security forces on the streets and the rumbling of
tanks and army vehicles on the main thoroughfares, things are quite calm and we
are in no immediate danger. In a stroke of genius and learning well from past
demonstrations mobilized through mobile and phone communications, His Majesty
has decided to take no risks in this instance. Declaring a state of emergency
means that civil liberties have been suspended and public gatherings can be
disbanded through the barrel of a gun… We await the morning to see what will
transpire.
Readers will recall that I mentioned rumors of such a move back in December, and
so today’s move seems mostly to have been expected. Although His Majesty is not
much liked in Nepal—in spite of being an incarnation of the god Vishnu—my
cursory chats with Nepalis indicates that his announcement is mostly welcome in
a country beaten down by a civil war with no real end in sight. The King has
given himself 3 years to solve this crisis, which seems like a long time, but
given the pace with which most matters move in this country, it may, indeed,
take that long to achieve a lasting peace. I doubt, however, that the King has
entered into the fray without an exit strategy, but then again, certain circle
estimations that he has absolutist monarch tendencies may be true…
Feb. 2
Things are still calm this morning, yet, despite the clampdown on domestic news
services, BBC World Service reports condemnations from the Indian and US
governments, the latter being almost laughable considering balloons floated out
of Washington lately about the development of a worldwide network of enemy
combatant containment facilities, or whatever they are being called—habeas
corpus lifetime denial centers. Yes, censorship and restrictions on public
gatherings is part of the current state of emergency in Nepal, but it is
telling that the writ of habeas corpus has been upheld.
Telephone service is still down and apparently no flights are entering the
country, but other than that there is no siege mentality in Kathmandu. Life
seems to be going on as normal although a lot of ex-pats, like myself, having
taken a day of leave from work until communications are restored.
What waits to be discerned is how the official maoist leadership will react to
this news. Of course, one of the maoist demands is abolishing the monarchy all
together; on the other hand, the Maoists have always demanded that negotiations
be held directly with the King—this presents them with a dilemma. In some
sense, the Maoists are probably smarting today that the palace has stolen some
of their thunder and swiftly commandeered the agenda in their own court. Still
the King himself doesn’t seem to be helping himself too much with appointment of
Ranas (the former ruling dynastic clan) to his royal council, and this no doubt
will be used as fodder against him. While the King made conciliatory gestures
to the Maoists in his speech welcoming them to the negotiating table, he also
mentioned in the same breath that he would not waver in crushing the Maoists
should they continue with their aggressive strategy.
The latest bit of news is that the Maoists have stated that His Majesty’s
assumption has absolutely closed the door on negotiations… and so we go round
and round again.
And what will happen with development aid that flows into this country (which is
higher this year than last by the way)? India has already commented that the
continuation of aid would be dependent upon Nepal’s restoration of some
semblance of multi-party democracy, but then again, India—facing its own
Naxalite separatist movement albeit not as serious—already receives waves of
illegal immigrants from Nepal—mostly from the hard hit areas—and would not want
to see this situation become worse than it is. I doubt that this move, at least
now, would affect the aid schemes of the UK, US and northern European
countries—the biggest contributors to Nepal’s foreign aid.
Feb. 3
Communications were restored briefly last evening for about 30 minutes
apparently, but this morning again they have been cut. Today was scheduled,
pre-government sacking, to be a Maoist transportation strike, but a lot of
Nepalis seem to be defying this order. I will venture out at some point to see
if public transportation is running—a key indicator during Maoist strikes.
Motorcycles and taxis with blacked out license plates (particularly the latter
which can jack up prices during strikes) sometimes defy these strikes anyway in
the capital, but trucks and buses are not normally that brave… Mostly calm; I
await a working phone line…
Feb. 4
Something new: first ever birthday celebrated under state of emergency…
Posted by david at February 12, 2005 01:55 PM