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Showing posts from June, 2009

Fishing Stories

Sushma Joshi The transformation of a barren strip of unused land to a hundred fish ponds teeming with fish may not just transform the lives of a hundred families Give a man a fish, and he will eat for the day. Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for a lifetime. I first saw this adage as a child in the office of World Neighbours, one of the first INGOs to come to Nepal. World Neighbours rented our house as their office, co-incidentally. The sign left me open-mouthed — the idea of teaching a person a skill that would give them a livelihood was alien to my entrepreneurship-deprived childhood. I remember the moment vividly, if only because Tom Arens, the World Neighbours representative and one of people to support the whole NGO movement in its early stages, seemed to be laughing at me silently. No doubt the idea of a Kathmandu child steeped in the grim tradition of Brahminical education and hereditary jagir being exposed to the idea of entrepreneurship was a chuckle-worthy one. In Nepalgu

The Flexible Border

Sushma Joshi Accusations that the Indian security forces have been causing havoc by raping Nepali women and forcing them away from their land by moving the border markers has made front page news in recent days. So is Koilabas another Susta? I was interested to read a report prepared by a mixed group of seventeen civil society members, including eight journalists, two policemen, one INSEC representative, and government officials who went to the border to investigate. Interestingly, there were no women on the team -- and perhaps some conclusions, especially about rape, may have been radically different had a few women been included in the team. The Dang border, says the report, is about an 8-9 hour walk from the highway through small paths across rivers, jungles and hills. There are 22 crossing points in Dang in about 82km of border -- and each border crossing point is about a two hour walk away from each other. Only Khangra and Koilabas have police stations on the Nepali side -- the re

Milk and rice

Sushma Joshi I am the youngest of seven cousins. When we were little, we used to play lukamari , or hide-and-seek, games in the garden. My eldest cousin sister, taking pity on me, would allow me to be a dudh-bhat (milk and rice) during our games. A dudh-bhat is someone too young to play the game adequately, but the older children allow this young one to tag along and never be “outed” from the game because they might cry if made to leave. So this means you are endlessly in the game, even when in reality you should really be out. Of course, being the youngest means you may always retain the status of a dudh-bhat even when you do grow up. In Nepal, as we know all too well, the hierarchy of age allows the young some privileges, along with the old. It appears to me Madhav Kumar, even though he's lost the game twice in two elections, is being allowed to be the dudh-bhat by his wiser and more tolerant elders. He is allowed to be in the game endlessly even though in reality he should real