Serenity Now! Frustration has returned to life in Kathmandu, and it's apparently even worse in some of Nepal's far flung regions. First to explain this entry's title. It is funny, well...moderately amusing if, a) you know that bandh is pronounced bund and, b) if you remember the Bangles 80's hit "Just Another Manic Monday." Sorry, that's 6 seconds of your life you'll never get back. Anyway, the bandhs have returned! If you read and remember a previous post about this most unfortunate Nepali tradition, you'll recall that a bandh is a general strike wherein certain political actors call on their most thuggish followers to enforce a general regional/town/city shutdown in order to raise awareness about how they've been wronged, or might possibly be wronged in the future. In other words, it's a political protest. The problem is that they physically intimidate others to cease basic daily/economic activities and they occasionally become violent. Hard core followers and rent-a-mobs roam the streets and take up posts at intersections to force business to close and halt traffic. Any driver runs the risk of their car getting pelted with rocks or worse. In past bandhs drivers have been dragged from their cars, beaten, and their vehicles torched.
This round of bandhs is just starting due to the on-going negotiations surrounding Nepal's long awaited new Constitution and its fast approaching deadline. So parties and ethnic groups are on edge and jockeying for position on key issues, in particular the questions of federalism versus a unitary country, ethnic versus non-ethnic states, the number of states (7 or 11?), and whether they should have a presidential or parliamentary model. You know, trivial details. Fortunately the recent bandhs have either been largely ineffective or have been relatively peaceful. Quite honestly they haven't affected me much. Basically last week I had to walk 15 minutes to and from work and couldn't buy groceries at the super market. Most Nepalis do their best to get on with their lives and surreptitiously continue normal routines. It led to an interesting experience a few days ago. Our Embassy's cafeteria gets pretty pathetic during bandhs because they can't purchase basic ingredients or get them delivered. Additionally, neighboring restaurants that cater to Embassy personnel are closed. But out of desperation a few colleagues and I took a lunch-time walk to see if a favorite eatery was flouting authority. We were happy to find they were, because their food is delicious. The restaurant, and even its basic layout/location, shall remain a secret as they could get into trouble, I suppose, if the wrong person read this. Anyway, as we four Americans walked down the street towards the restaurant, the proprietor, who knows us well, stepped out of a corrugated aluminum door leading down an alley near her place and gave us a knowing look. As we approached, we spread out, trying to look very inconspicuous, and then, zip!, one at a time slid down the alley, real cool like. I'm sure no one noticed the 4 westerners in suits disappear down a side alley. It was quieter than normal inside, but a few other Embassy employees had also managed to get in. I felt like I'd just entered a speakeasy. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the rent-a-mob, some of whom I heard were working for the promise of momos (Nepali dumplings), happened to come in. Probably nothing, but it made for a more exciting lunch time.
The real frustration is the harm the bandh does to average Nepalis. I know three people who cancelled vacation plans around Nepal and will instead head to Thailand. That is at least hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars lost from Nepal's economy. And I'm sure they aren't the only ones, as prospective travelers read the State Department's travel warnings. It's such a waste and a real shame. And all because these groups, who may have legitimate issues to raise, can't promote their ideas in a peaceful manner. Why can't they re-enact the Boston Tea Party or play the didgeridoo in some occupied park like normal protestors?
This round of bandhs is just starting due to the on-going negotiations surrounding Nepal's long awaited new Constitution and its fast approaching deadline. So parties and ethnic groups are on edge and jockeying for position on key issues, in particular the questions of federalism versus a unitary country, ethnic versus non-ethnic states, the number of states (7 or 11?), and whether they should have a presidential or parliamentary model. You know, trivial details. Fortunately the recent bandhs have either been largely ineffective or have been relatively peaceful. Quite honestly they haven't affected me much. Basically last week I had to walk 15 minutes to and from work and couldn't buy groceries at the super market. Most Nepalis do their best to get on with their lives and surreptitiously continue normal routines. It led to an interesting experience a few days ago. Our Embassy's cafeteria gets pretty pathetic during bandhs because they can't purchase basic ingredients or get them delivered. Additionally, neighboring restaurants that cater to Embassy personnel are closed. But out of desperation a few colleagues and I took a lunch-time walk to see if a favorite eatery was flouting authority. We were happy to find they were, because their food is delicious. The restaurant, and even its basic layout/location, shall remain a secret as they could get into trouble, I suppose, if the wrong person read this. Anyway, as we four Americans walked down the street towards the restaurant, the proprietor, who knows us well, stepped out of a corrugated aluminum door leading down an alley near her place and gave us a knowing look. As we approached, we spread out, trying to look very inconspicuous, and then, zip!, one at a time slid down the alley, real cool like. I'm sure no one noticed the 4 westerners in suits disappear down a side alley. It was quieter than normal inside, but a few other Embassy employees had also managed to get in. I felt like I'd just entered a speakeasy. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the rent-a-mob, some of whom I heard were working for the promise of momos (Nepali dumplings), happened to come in. Probably nothing, but it made for a more exciting lunch time.
The real frustration is the harm the bandh does to average Nepalis. I know three people who cancelled vacation plans around Nepal and will instead head to Thailand. That is at least hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars lost from Nepal's economy. And I'm sure they aren't the only ones, as prospective travelers read the State Department's travel warnings. It's such a waste and a real shame. And all because these groups, who may have legitimate issues to raise, can't promote their ideas in a peaceful manner. Why can't they re-enact the Boston Tea Party or play the didgeridoo in some occupied park like normal protestors?