Crisis in the Himalayas
by Marie-Louise Olson
Life can be hairy, especially upon coming back to Kathmandu after
trekking in the Himalayan Mountains. I desperately needed a wax,
so I ventured out to my favourite beauty salon, Teko’s.
While lying on the “Table of Terror” listening to Rita and Sumitra
chatting away in Nepali, I silently tried to bite back the immense
pain I was experiencing as the hairs were ripped out
simultaneously from my legs and underarms. As I was expanding my
Nepali vocabulary with the useful word Kalam (pain), I
suddenly heard loud shouts and yelling from the street below. I
forgot my pain for a second and jumped half naked to the window to
peer down six floors to the street. The scene below made my heart
sink. The Nepalis were demonstrating. The entire street was in
complete chaos. Tuktuks and motorcycles were desperately
scrambling to escape the marching masses that were waving the red
hammer and sickle. A couple of red and white parliament flags
popped up once in a while. The unique flag of Nepal was nowhere to
be seen. From my vantage point I watched in complete awe at the
aggression of such a humble and peaceful people.
As it
so happened, directly underneath my window, a small group branched
off and grabbed a police motorcycle from the sidewalk. The
policeman was alone and defenceless, and could only manage to blow
his whistle in weak protest. The group dragged the bike to the
middle of the road. After stomping on it they lit it on fire
whilst rejoicing at the horrific sight of the fireball of
government property. The entire street was in uproar, and
whistling and clapping thundered up to the sixth floor window.
“Down with the King” and “Democracy” were the intense chants
recognizable amidst the thunder. As I watched from above, the
street below me become a chaotic forum of cars, trucks,
motorcycles, tuktuks, cows and people trying to somehow escape the
madness they were creating. I looked at the Himalayas in the
distance and felt so lost.
Nepal, the Forbidden Kingdom, has been hidden away for centuries
in the magical Himalayan Mountains. It is truly a different world.
Living in this country is something that I can never completely
describe. It is one of those countries you can only grasp once you
have smelt it. The smog of Kathmandu, the crisp teasing air coming
off the peak of Mt. Everest, the musty cow dung that penetrates
the streets and the sweet smell of Nepali tea brewing from every
house and shop are scents that discovery channel can never convey.
To me, Nepal is perfect in its every imperfection, but
unfortunately it is falling apart.
Nepal
is being marred by the never-ending political problems harassing
the entire country. What I saw that day was something that happens
every single day somewhere in the country. Recently, King
Gyanendra of Nepal has been under extreme pressure from students
and academics who are furious with the decision he made two years
ago to dissolve parliament. It doesn’t help the king’s popularity
that most Nepalis believe he was behind the gruesome massacre of
his brother, King Birendra, and the entire royal family in 2001.
The people of Nepal want democracy and they are not going to stop
demonstrating until they get it. However, they seem to forget that
Nepal did in fact have democracy for 14 years and it simply did
not work. The government was unable to full fill its promise and
obligation to hold elections. As a consequence, Gyanendra brought
the parliament out of power, prompting students to complete
uproar. Violent demonstrations erupt every day, resulting in
burning police cars and hundreds of arrests. The king has now
banned demonstrating, which only spurs the demonstrators to
continue. To make the situation worse, the five political parties
engaging in the demonstrations cannot come to an agreement between
themselves on a proposal for King Gyanendra.
This
is not even close to the worst of Nepal’s worries. The mountains
are in turmoil. Maoist rebels want a communist regime and will do
whatever it takes to reach that goal. They hide in the mountains
killing with no mercy; chopping their opponents’ body parts off
until they bleed to death or die of shock. They have killed
thousands of innocent people and attacked countless army and
police posts, resulting in a staggering number of deaths. The sad
part is that the insurgents are mainly young boys between 13 and
20 years old from isolated mountain villages. They have either
been forced to join the rebels (quickly convinced by the Maoist
slogan: Do or Die) or have been falsely attracted to a cause that
they do not comprehend. This is a battle that has been going on
for eight years and now the Maoists are strongly influencing eight
out of the 14 districts of Nepal. The situation seems hopeless.
The government has chosen to solve the problem by killing Maoists.
The Maoists are simply returning the favour. Peace seems
impossible in the face of these killings, but no one will back
down. The Maoists are now officially regarded as terrorists by the
Americans and are a vital threat.
 
But
Nepali people are otherwise a peaceful folk. The Hindus and
Buddhists live side by side in complete tolerance of each other
and even worship at the same temples. When their different
religions can live in harmony, why can their politics not? Nepal
is in desperate need of help.
I watched the demonstrators disappear around the corner and ten
minutes later the sound of sirens filled the air. The police and
army had arrived, but just a tad too late. The 50-year-old fire
truck came panting 20 minutes later. I watched with humorous
curiosity their frantic efforts at trying to stomp out the
motorcycle fireball. It made me laugh—only in Nepal. As Rita and
Sumitra pulled me back to the “Table of Terror”, I thought to
myself that the pain I felt as hairs were ripped from my body was
nothing compared to the Kalam I feel deep in my soul when I see
such magic falling quickly to the deadly fate of civil war.
© 2004 Marie-Louise Olson
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