Sujan Rawat had come to Kathmandu from Karnali in the hope of somehow <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dead-end-of-the-korean-dream">making it to Korea</a> to pay off family debt. His dreams and that of his family back home was dashed on Friday on the Ring Road in Kathmandu. He was one of the two aspirants hoping to go to Korea who were killed in a police charge at Balkumari in Lalitpur. Applicants for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korea-treating-Nepali-migrant-workers-right,2813">Korea jobs</a> had gathered at the Korean Employment Permit System (EPS) office in Balkumari to protest a recent decision that disallowed them from applying for a mandatory Korean language test.&nbsp; The angry protesters set fire to the car of Physical Infrastructure and Transport Minister Prakash Jwala. As the violence intensified, riot police was deployed to control the situation. They charged the agitators with batons as well as firing tear gas and rubber bullets.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231230121220_c84479e7c80b289e0f55ad48a39f66a1ee042738c90bb63d5465dba6336a8b10.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231230121220_c84479e7c80b289e0f55ad48a39f66a1ee042738c90bb63d5465dba6336a8b10" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1306" loading="lazy" alt="Balkumari EPS protest"> <figcaption>Protesters set fire to the car of Physical Infrastructure and Transport Minister Prakash Jwala.</figcaption> </figure>  Rawal had left his room earlier in the morning looking for his older brother who had also joined the protest. Having arrived in Kathmandu just a week before, Rawat did not know his way around but managed to reach Balkumari. Rawat was just walking on his side of the road when the police suddenly charged at him, said Roshan Katuwal, a relative. “He wasn’t there to protest, he was minding his own business when the police took him for one of the demonstrators,” he told Nepali Times. “A heavy blow to his chest is what killed him.” Rawat was taken to the nearby KIST Hospital but there wasn't much doctors could do to save his life. “He was brought in unconscious at 12:40PM, he succumbed to his injuries at 1:17PM while undergoing treatment,” Amish Pathak, executive officer of KIST Hospital told us. “He had a blue bruise on his chest.” Rawat had followed his older brother to Kathmandu from Dailekh Bazar where his family ran a small shop. But when his father was diagnosed with a brain tumor, the family could not afford treatment. They incurred debts, the responsibility of which had fallen on Rawat to clear. “His father passed away less than a year ago and now this has befallen the family,” added Katuwal. Rawat has a mother and a younger sister and a brother back home who had all their hopes pinned on Rawat. Rawat himself wanted to continue his studies after completing high school. But his family situation meant he didn't see any other option but to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/delayed-dreams-for-korea-bound-nepalis">migrate overseas</a> to pay off the loans.&nbsp; As soon as he reached Kathmandu, Rawat enrolled himself in a Korean language class and was preparing for the EPS exam. Birendra Shah of Achham was seriously injured in the police charge on Friday, and taken to Patan Hospital but he died during the treatment. The government has announced Rs1 million in compensation for the families of Rawat and Shah, as well as suspension of the key security officials involved until further investigations. The protest was triggered by a notice published by the EPS office which stated that for the applicants to be eligible to apply for the test, they should not have done so in 2023. In many ways, the protest is a representation of the frustration and desperation of the youths against the political system that does not even ensure basic rights and jobs to the people. Oftentimes, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">labour migration is their only hope</a>. Following the notice, 12 individuals including Tarka Bahadur Paul filed a writ in the Patan High Court on 28 December. The single bench of Judge Chandramani Gyawali gave an interim order not to stop anyone from filling out the application form for the Korean language test, stating that it was a violation of their rights. The court's order states, '...as the petition presented by these petitioners will be addressed during the final hearing, from the point of view of the irreparable damage to the petitioners and inconvenience, it is not reasonable to deprive the petitioners of filling the application form, and interested persons of the same nature as the petitioners...' As per the order, all the agitating youths will now be able to apply for the EPS exam. But Rawat and Shah will have lost their lives in vain. There are about 80,000 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-kafala-migrants-in-Korea,4025">Nepali migrant workers in Korea’s farms and factories</a> and their situation is better than other countries in the Gulf. Salaries are higher and labour rights are guaranteed. Which is why there is such high demand from Nepali migrants for jobs in Korea. The EPS exam system is supposed to streamline the selection process, but it ended up costing the lives of two promising young lads.

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Karnali to Korea dream dashed in Kathmandu

This is the 50th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When I was growing up in Nuwakot, I used to see fellow villagers come back from Kathmandu wearing fancy clothes and carrying a certain swagger. They were earning good money in the garment industry, so I followed them and joined a factory in Kathmandu. I started out as a helper, but after three months, asked the manager to let me use the sewing machine. I experimented, taught myself how to use it based on observation and guidance from others. Fortunately, it came easy for me. The garment industry has been my entire world since then. It is all I know, and all I understand. I spent eight years working in the factory in Nepal and became good at it. We made clothes that were exported to the Netherlands where the garment owner knew a fellow Nepali. An acquaintance once suggested that I go overseas as there was demand for garment jobs in Jordan. I am not sure if it was, as they say, लहर or रहर (fad or fervor) but in 2012 we applied. The Chinese interviewer who had come from Jordan took a test asking interviewees to sew pockets on a piece of fabric. But I was asked to pull a thread through needles in an overlock sewing machine, which I did seamlessly. I was selected, and a few months later flew off to Jordan. I didn't even know where Jordan was. Life overseas for us migrant workers was like going to school again. You stay in the dormitory, and show up to work every morning, looking forward to that one day off every week. Every day is the same as the previous day, and you race to maximise output. In Nepal, one worker would be responsible for the entire garment. But in Jordan we had an assembly line of 35 or so workers, all Nepalis in my case, who stitched specific parts of the jacket- whether it was a sleeve cuff or armhole. It was faster. The jackets were sold in Japan, the US for about $100 each, and were of good quality. Things in the factory felt systematic. I will always remember a Nepali dai who had been in Jordan for years, and was familiar with the place and spoke Arabic. He welcomed us when we first arrived and told us to let him know if we needed any help. Jordan did not have a Nepal embassy, but as far as we were concerned he was our ambassador.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121808120_f9ced66ffd52da470ef9e45433fef5e990ccc2e8487cec53a92465b79ab494eb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023121808120_f9ced66ffd52da470ef9e45433fef5e990ccc2e8487cec53a92465b79ab494eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="480" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries NT"> </figure>  Ten months later, I fell sick. I did not want to remain in Jordan in case I became more ill or if I needed hospitalisation or surgery. Who would take care of me? &nbsp;I missed my family, especially my wife, so I returned to Nepal. A few years later after the earthquake of 2015, the same employers showed up for interviews in Nepal. I was also looking for better earning opportunities so I applied again. The interviewer recognised me and rehired me instantly. I found comfort in knowing that I already knew some of the colleagues and fellow Nepalis from my previous stint at the company.&nbsp; This time, I stuck around in Jordan from 2016 right till Covid-19. I saved up Rs70,000 every month, a large part of it tied to bonuses as the basic salaries by themselves were lower. In Nepal, I struggle to save any money but it was easier there because living expenses are taken care of. So even if the salaries may not be much higher than Nepal, it is easier to save overseas. We all have some form of skills or talent, it is money that we don’t have. That is why we go abroad. My father was a simple farmer and I did not inherit property. I started from zero, but with overseas employment, I was at least able to save some money and build a base for myself and my family. I have bought some assets, and am working hard now to ensure adequate savings for my wife and my &nbsp;old age security as well as the children’s future. During the pandemic we were kept in the company accommodation without work, but we were paid our monthly salaries. We also received some assistance from the Jordan government which I appreciated. But I decided to return to Nepal because work got slower and with it our incomes dropped. If it had not been for Covid, I do not think I would have returned. I was doing just fine there. On my brother’s advice, I started a small company in Kathmandu that produces and sells bags. Post-Covid a lot of shop fronts were vacant, so it was easy to get a good rental deal. My wife and I make and sell bags, which has allowed us to have a decent life. Our major clients are schools and offices in the neighborhood. The savings abroad and my benefits after leaving helped.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121808120_ff1e34ba356e18e33dbe3d0ded04fc46429b12be1c30af5f512929c5ce07ddd1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023121808120_ff1e34ba356e18e33dbe3d0ded04fc46429b12be1c30af5f512929c5ce07ddd1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 50"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121808120_ec75d1654ee0e49a63532d54dcdcd66de0ffcfc8c98633b2f62e68bd0201424a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023121808120_ec75d1654ee0e49a63532d54dcdcd66de0ffcfc8c98633b2f62e68bd0201424a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries"> </figure>  &nbsp;I now aspire to go to Europe for work, which unfortunately has not worked out despite a few attempts. I have also lost some money in the process. It makes me wonder if it is God’s way of telling me to remain in Nepal. But my motivation to migrate again is different this time. When I went to Jordan, finances were my only concern. It brought me to a position where I can confidently say I have the skills and a base to sustain myself comfortably in Nepal, even if I continue the work I am doing now. It is for the children that I want to go to Europe, so that they have access to better opportunities and an easier life than we did. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad.&nbsp; Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.&nbsp;

Nepali on the move

The Malaysia-Nepal migrant scam nexus

This is the 40th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Sanaya is the industrial area of Doha, and is home to the majority of foreign workers in Qatar. But for me, it was in the desert in Al-Shahaniya where I lived for seven years since 2009 training race camels.&nbsp; My days used to start at 3AM, and I made sure the camels were well-fed, hydrated, and prepared for race day with exercises, including walks and runs at various speeds and lengths.&nbsp; During practice race days I rode a non-race camel in between two race camels to guide and train them. Known as galaisha, these were well-trained, retired race camels that had never won in competitions during their glory days.&nbsp; When we were practicing for a race, my employer would drive in parallel outside the track, instructing me to slow down or go faster depending on the camel’s endurance. The robot jockey would be charged overnight, placed on the camel’s back and the employer spoke to it through the speakers in the jockey. He even used the automated whip if necessary when the camel wasn’t paying attention, or to urge him to go faster.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/amit-and-tilak">Amik and Tilak</a>, Tilak Bahadur Tamang and Amik Singh Lama The intensity and passion for this sport and what it meant to his family both financially and prestige-wise was evident in his voice as the robot blared “ghap, ghap” through the speakers. My employer owned 15 camels, and I was attached to all of them. But one race camel, Riyaj, stood out. He was special, an underdog. &nbsp;I once left Riyaj at the starting point of a 4-km race in Qatar. There were 40-50 other camels. The trainers honked and cheered from the vehicles with “ghap, ghap” on speakers.&nbsp; Listening to the live and animated commentary on the radio, I overheard a Sudanese person telling his friend that Riyaj was leading. I could not believe it, and my heart pounded with excitement. A wrap with the number one was placed on Riyaj’s back, and the judges put saffron all over him as part of the celebration. Everyone wished each other “mobarak” although we still had to wait for lab tests to ensure no performance enhancement drugs were used. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-nurses-gone-and-going-to-the-uk">Nepali nurses gone and going to the UK</a>, Nepali Times  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230811190848_15388417d3f33dc5bdbdf9caef4c89ad1a56ec8d97c00a152616478cc61ee1ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230811190848_15388417d3f33dc5bdbdf9caef4c89ad1a56ec8d97c00a152616478cc61ee1ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="839" loading="lazy" alt="DD 40"> <figcaption>Mohan Pandey with a trophy after the win.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;When Riyaj won, nothing else mattered to me momentarily. Not the struggles I had gone through, not my status in a foreign country, not the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All that mattered was that Riyaj had won and with it, I too felt like a winner.&nbsp; My bosses, his family members and friends, clapped my back and hugged me, and I was a hero among other workers from Rajasthan, Pakistan and Sudan with their own camels. Today was Riyaj’s turn to win. It was my day.&nbsp; Baba, my employer, could not be prouder. I was given 5000 riyal (Rs190,000) as baksheesh. This was a lot of money for me, although it was peanuts compared to the prize money which ran into millions.&nbsp; This win also changed my status in Qatar, as I won the trust and dare I say, respect, for my skills in training the camels. Baba started relying on me for all things related to his camels, he wanted my input and involvement. Who could have said that someone like me who was afraid of camels when I first arrived in Qatar would one day be a natural with them? It was not a hobby or passion that brought me to camel racetracks. Nor did I have any natural inclination towards camel rearing like colleagues from Rajasthan or Sudan. Actually, it was the only job I could get.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan Perhaps life would have never brought me to Qatar to take care of camels had my father, a garment worker in UAE, not met with an accident and returned to Nepal for good. Till then, our family was faring just fine. His return and inability to provide for us forced me to grow up.&nbsp; Had my father continued working normally, I would have completed my studies in Nepal. I see glimpses of what my life could have been like from where my friends are today, earning handsome salaries in Kathmandu.&nbsp; I first went to India to help my cousin who was a truck driver in India. My body could not take the heat and pressure of the job, and I fell sick. My cousin found me a job as a domestic worker.&nbsp; “Chotu, do this. Chotu, do that.” That is how my days passed for 350 Indian rupees a month, running around the house trying to be helpful. I used to send money home occasionally and when I went home for my first vacation, I took with me a pickle jar and Rs2,600 to hand over to my mom.&nbsp; Moving to India at an early age had changed me. I spoke with a Hindi accent, and my mother used to laugh at my “haaji” whenever she called out my name. My father was also in India, but he had a tendency to disappear for years and show up randomly without any money. We heard he was in Goa. The accident in the UAE had taken a mental toll on him and he was never the same again. From a family that was doing okay for ourselves, we had lost more than my father’s stable earnings.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/power-of-workers-working-together/">Power of workers working together</a>, Madhusudhan Ojha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230811190848_b280af6b55caee9518ef425cfa932d40304533e919329217cf4c53b75571c759.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230811190848_b280af6b55caee9518ef425cfa932d40304533e919329217cf4c53b75571c759" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="827" loading="lazy" alt="DD 40"> <figcaption>Pandey is now in Nepal and his recent venture as vegetable seller has been mostly profitable.</figcaption> </figure>  After working as a helper in several houses, I found a job at a gym where a customer later poached me to work in his electric company. The highlight of my job at the gym was serving sandwiches to Bollywood stars Hritik Roshan, Saif Ali Khan, Ajay Devgand and Isha Deol who were at the opening ceremony of the Barbarian Power Gym. I wish I had that moment captured on camera.&nbsp; I knew that for real progress, I had to go to the Gulf. An acquaintance arranged a visa for me for Qatar and I only found out later that it was to race camels. &nbsp; I had no idea how to take care of camels that were much taller and stronger than me. The heat in the desert was also unbearable. And I did not speak any Arabic. Everything was so unfamiliar that I considered quitting right away. But I had already paid recruitment fees to get there, and leaving was not an option. Slowly, I started understanding these unfamiliar creatures, and learnt the tricks of the trade. I started feeling more comfortable with the animals, and they with me. &nbsp; While other camels could eat however much they wanted, I had to be careful about how much I fed the racing ones. It could neither be too much nor too little and had to be timed well so they were at peak performance on race day. We fed milk and ghee to the race camels.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Our camels usually came third or fourth and even 15th in the races. Such losses ended with “Insallah”, hoping for a win the next time. Except when Riyaj won. On that day, all barriers came down with my employer’s family, as we celebrated. I still smile fondly when I think of that time.&nbsp; I came to Qatar completely unfamiliar and unprepared, but left knowing all there was to know about camels. The only problem was that those skills were useless in Nepal, where there are no camels. I also picked up Arabic, which is not much needed in Nepal. My employer did not want me to leave, but I left assuring him that if I ever were to re-emigrate, it would be back to take care of his camels. In school, I was a bright student but did not get to study after my father's accident, and I had to earn to ensure that my siblings could continue their studies. Indeed, my brother is now in Japan and works in IT.&nbsp; Back in Nepal, I had to start from scratch and life has not been easy. I tried my luck in marketing, being a butcher, I ran a canteen, dabbled in real estate, learnt driving, and unsuccessfully attempted to re-emigrate.&nbsp; My latest venture as a vegetable seller has worked out. The earnings are enough to cover household expenses, and some losses are manageable. I want to ensure a comfortable life for my wife and daughter. But it is not easy even after all these years and experience, just like it was not easy when I went to India to find work as a 13-year old. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Dhumbharahi vegetable shop that I run was submerged in this week's flood in Kathmandu, highlighting my move from a place with no water to too much water. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Nepali bonds with racing camel in Qatar

News of Nepali migrant workers being <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">cheated, abused and exploited</a> make headlines every day, but they overshadow stories of many who return with earnings and exposure to start anew back home, or contribute from afar. &nbsp;
Recruitment and employment malpractices obscure the predictability of emigration outcomes. It can be transformative, but in many cases it is not.
We have in this paper previously <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-lottery-of-migration">likened it to a lottery</a> in which desperate Nepalis are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men">forced to gamble with their future</a>.&nbsp;
Bilateral labour agreements between Nepal and host countries can ensure a better managed migration process in which there is a greater guarantee of worker welfare. One such government-to-government (G2G) agreement is between Nepal and the UK.
Since 20 July, Britain and Nepal have started accepting <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-nurses-gone-and-going-to-the-uk">applications for nurses under the bilateral scheme</a>. In its pilot phase, 100 nurses will be recruited at zero cost, and enjoy equal benefits and protection with others in the UK.
Such transparency can allow more predictable consequences for workers seeking jobs overseas. A bonus is their ability to take their spouse and children along, and that the agreement will benefit mainly female workers.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/new-uk-job-options-for-nepalis-2vckaq2m">Nurse emigration</a> also highlights the sorry state of their employment conditions in Nepal. One nurse listed three problems nurses face: lack of respect, low wages and overwork. Indeed, nurses have to work for as little as Rs15,000 a month in private hospitals in Nepal after spending millions on their degrees.
These are all results of neglect of the nursing profession by the state. It is therefore hardly surprising that nurses are moving overseas to meet a global shortage of healthcare professionals.
If not the UK, Australia or the US, it is the UAE or Saudi Arabia. A Saudi-based nurse said she left because she had to do one full time and one part time job to make Rs23,000 a month in Nepal, while she saves more than four times the amount in Saudi Arabia for an 8 hour shift with all expenses covered.
If working conditions and salaries do not improve, the more apt question may soon be why nurses stay, rather than why they leave.
There are challenges abroad as well. Britain is itself facing strikes over pay disputes for nurses. But as one UK-based nurse told us, despite the struggle, earning and learning prospects are better there.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/human-flight">Emigration</a> is linked to aspirations and desires. And improving the domestic labour market and outmigration are not mutually exclusive. What nurses are escaping from merits attention, but so does what they will be facing abroad.&nbsp;
Those who choose to leave can then maximise the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-overseas-migration-better">benefits of overseas opportunities</a> that are rife with high recruitment fees and insufficient protection.
In the UK, there are also voices being raised about importing nurses for cheap from Red Zone countries with fragile health systems like Nepal.
A managed bilateral agreement makes migration better for nurses who will benefit from the scheme as they can compete in a fair environment.&nbsp;
But Nepal should also go <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-and-malaysia-rewrite-rules-for-migrant-labour">beyond traditional labour agreements</a> to enter into mutually beneficial skills partnership models that would also support health training and infrastructure back home. This requires proactive diplomacy, thinking outside the box and a realisation that benefits of migration can go beyond remittances.
Nepal needs to view its diaspora as its strength and seek ways to engage those abroad. As UK-based nurse Binod Simkhada says, “To contribute to Nepal, one does not need to be in Nepal.” At the Nepal Nursing Association in UK, he was involved in establishing a birthing center in Jumla that was recently handed over to the local government.
In many cases, Nepalis can provide more help from outside than from within Nepal, given better access to resources and networks. And for those who come back, reintegration policies are overdue to leverage the social and financial remittances returnees bring home.
As the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-family-spread-across-kuwait-cyprus-uae">Nepali Times Diaspora Diaries series</a> show, good migration can be transformative and help families break out of intergenerational poverty. Because the government took a proactive initiative on managed migration of nurses to the UK, the 100 nurses could have life-changing stories.
But that by no means absolves the Nepal government from its responsibility of ensuring that nurses here are treated with respect and earn liveable wages. It is the least the state can do.

Nepal’s nurse flight

On 13 July, 117 young Nepalis all with valid documents to work in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-family-spread-across-kuwait-cyprus-uae">Kuwait</a> were turned back at Kathmandu airport immigration. Nearly half of them were women, and they had already been issued boarding passes.
Their labour permits from one department of government were not accepted by another.
A few days earlier, 156 workers flying to Kuwait and Jordan were similarly stopped by airport immigration. In both instances, other passengers with exactly the same documents were allowed to board flights while they were not.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration">Two decades of debate on female migration</a>, Upasana Khadka
These are not one-off cases: kickbacks and payoffs have become such a part of life in this country that the English word ‘setting’ has entered the Nepali lexicon to describe collusion between unscrupulous businesses, bureaucrats and politicians.&nbsp;
It is when someone somewhere has not been paid off by a recruiting agency that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">Nepali migrant workers</a> are stopped at the airport, and it only makes it to the headlines if hundreds are involved. Individual inconveniences for legitimate travellers that happen every day never make it to the news.
A record 800,000 Nepalis left the country to work abroad in fiscal year 2022-23 that ended on Monday. And that was just the total for those that obtained mandatory labour permits from the Department of Foreign Employment (DoFE), and did not include those who went to India, or <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/hardworking-students">left on student visas</a> for Australia, Canada or Japan.
Nepal is still a functioning economy because of the money those Nepalis send home. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance">Remittances</a> through official channels grew 27% this fiscal year to hit $8.6 billion, although a similar amount probably also came through informal transfers.&nbsp;
Nearly one-third of Nepal’s GDP equivalence is made up of remittances. Yet, the poorest and most desperate Nepalis are harassed every step of the way in their own country before they get to their destination, where they are exploited some more.
Nepal now has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">a different breed of migration</a>: youth leaving for higher studies in Canada, Australia, Japan, the United States and the UK but many of these are essentially emigrants out to also work and earn money.
Push factors are many, but one of them is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/building-blocks-of-a-nation">poor quality of higher education</a>. And there are not enough jobs for graduates. But the government also makes it as difficult as possible for them to leave.
Most Nepali students paying their way into foreign universities need a No Objection Certificate (NOC) before flying out. There are long queues at the department issuing these documents, many applicants are rejected simply because the university they are applying for does not exist on the NOC list. But there is always a way: ‘brokers’ will fix the papers for a fee, and everyone gets their cut.
Once they come back (if they ever return) the students have another mammoth hurdle to cross: obtaining an equivalency certificate from Tribhuvan University’s ambitiously named Centre for Curriculum Development for their degrees so they can find jobs in Nepal. Most get the go-around for years, eventually give up and emigrate for good.
Astha Dahal, a Kathmandu-based lawyer with a PhD in criminology from the University of Cambridge who also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/i-speak-nothing-but-the-truth-your-honour">writes the monthly column for this paper</a> on the judiciary, was refused equivalency by Tribhuvan University on flimsy grounds.
The Nepali state makes it difficult, and often impossible, for an honest citizen to access services like getting a citizenship certificate, national ID, passport, PAN number, driving license. It is as if politicians and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-uncivil-servants">bureaucrats</a> are not there to serve, but to rule.&nbsp;
These plutocrats actively discourage people from obtaining any official document or paper, unless there is cash under the table. This is the true hallmark of an apathetic state devoid of accountability. Impunity for crimes committed by the highest in the land means that corruption trickles down the state machinery.
Those seeking services are scolded rudely, herded like goats, humiliated, and treated as if they are asking for a favour. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-citizenship-amendment-bill-explained">A citizenship bill</a> is passed, but single mothers are still treated as if they are invisible, and if they are from an excluded caste or ethnic group without connections, it is even more difficult.&nbsp;
The Supreme Court orders registration of same-sex marriage, but gay couples cannot register their marriage because bureaucrats see a problem with the wording of the law.
Despite federalism, or maybe because of it, the rot has seeped down to local governments. A charity running a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-rural-lifeline">hospital in a remote part of Nepal serving the poorest of the poor</a> cannot get its budget approved on time because of bureaucratic obstacles every step of the way and ‘civil’ servants asking for their cut.
Our kleptocracy makes rules just to make things difficult for those seeking services, and leaves an opening for middlemen who are on their payroll and can facilitate the process for a fee. Paperwork is made needlessly difficult, they have to be rubber stamped in a labyrinth of rooms.
Even paying taxes has been made difficult, and collectors will not take your money unless you pay them. Citizens have to pay a bribe to deposit their taxes — no wonder the government has a revenue shortfall.
It is difficult to find a formula to get out of this rut. Our only hope is in the new crop of elected representatives in Parliament who want to clean things up. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/crime-and-or-punishment-in-nepal">Lalita Niwas</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/losing-our-moral-compass">fake refugee scandals</a> also offer hope that check and balances in Nepal’s democracy are functioning.&nbsp;
But the priority should be an immediate and effective change in the way government functions in this country. Government of Nepal: ask not what your citizens can do for you, but what you can do for your citizens.
Sonia Awale

Inconvenient truths

This is the 38th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. Tsering Lama: I was working as a domestic worker in Kuwait when the earthquake struck Nepal in April 2015. My heart sank, and I was worried about the four children I had left at home. Between frantic 'unable to reach' calls and silent prayers, I was also watching videos on YouTube. One of them showed destroyed buildings and a miracle rescue of a little boy from under the rubble after being trapped for five days in Gonga bu bus park. He turned out to be my own son, Pemba. My own son was now on a video of my phone screen, being carried in a stretcher by rescue workers amidst cheers and disbelief. I wept uncontrollably as I realised that my son had escaped death. I would later find out that the other three of my children were also safe. It was for them that I had come to work in Kuwait. Without the support of my husband or other family members, even providing food to my children had become a challenge. I had already failed the eldest two who had run away from our village. The younger two were headed down the same path if I did not earn for them. So I left for Kathmandu with a new passport and heavy heart. I was lucky to get the job as a domestic worker in Kuwait without paying anyone a recruitment fee. I did not know anything about Kuwait except that it was bidesh and that the work would let me to provide for my children. The first employer was abusive. Their children were of my children's age, but they also mistreated me. A slight delay in obeying their order for a glass of water or something else was met with taunts and rude words. I felt suffocated and ran away. The agency there placed me in a new household, and this time I was lucky. I stuck with the employer for five years, picked up enough Arabic to defend myself when I felt unfairly scolded. My job was to take care of the kitchen and there were five other domestic workers like myself. Every weekend, the workforce would expand to 20 because the children of the employer would come with their own domestic workers, including multiple nannies. Filipinos, Indians, Sri Lankan and Nepali domestic workers hustled and bustled around the kitchen, ran after babies and mopped the floors as the family enjoyed their weekends.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230716150740_32c35cf52930d9933a303000414464872312c6c05cc2c043740fcf97cb8b5ecb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230716150740_32c35cf52930d9933a303000414464872312c6c05cc2c043740fcf97cb8b5ecb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries Kuwait"> <figcaption>Tsering Lama in Kuwait where she worked as a domestic helper.</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, my own children were growing up on their own back home in Nepal. I had to reassure myself that the sacrifice allowed me to ensure that they went to bed on a full stomach. When the earthquake hit, long distance parenting made me feel even more distant from my children. I was not around when my boy was in the darkness of the collapsed building, silently fighting for his life.&nbsp; Pasang Lama: As the eldest, I had three siblings to take care of while my mother was away in Kuwait. The youngest two were obedient, but my brother Pemba is a different breed. He came and went as he pleased from our rented room. He worked in a hotel at the bus park at Gonga Bu and was used to a carefree lifestyle and friends that we did not approve of. When the earthquake struck, I was worried but comforted myself thinking he is a smart kid and would keep himself safe. My other two siblings and I traveled to Kavre for safety, while Pemba was out of touch. In Kavre, we were glued to the news and to our surprise, we saw our brother Pemba being carried out on a stretcher from underneath the ruins of the hotel. Later I would find out that he and his friend Ramesh were just about to have lunch when the eight story building came crashing down. My brother was trapped in a crouching position for five days before he was rescued. Ramesh's legs had been crushed by a falling beam and had to be amputated.&nbsp; I wept uncontrollably. Shortly after seeing him on the news, I received a call from Chhauni Army Hospital and rushed to meet him with an uncle. I was shaken, but once I met my brother who was resting and recovering, I realised nothing had changed. Even in that state, he refused to wear the clothes and shoes I had brought him as they were not of his choice. We started bickering, forgetting that he just had a miraculous rescue.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230716150740_0601344a09538aab91a0c7c5811da2557b949736bf20732db1ab3a4e31534ada.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230716150740_0601344a09538aab91a0c7c5811da2557b949736bf20732db1ab3a4e31534ada" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries Kuwait"> <figcaption>Pasang Lama who worked in Cyprus with her brother Pemba who is now trying to go overseas to work. </figcaption> </figure>  I used to top the class in school, but had to quit in Grade 8 because I had to help my mother. There was no point studying, we were hungry all the time. How could I justify buying a textbook if I could use the same money to buy cooking oil or rice for the family? When you struggle to pay for pencils or shoes, you start losing the motivation to study. After I quit, every other person in my village would ask me why I quit despite being a bright student. I used to be put off by that question, and used to hide when I saw my classmates in school uniforms. I came to Kathmandu and started earning money painting thankas. When my mother went to Kuwait, I had to care for my siblings. My younger sister was not able to manage things on her own like my mother hand hoped. We managed household expenses from the money I made from painting thanka and the cash my mother sent us. Since I had a job, I had to train my sister to do the household chores. We somehow got by even though my father was present, but always absent, and a mother who tried to be present despite her absence. We never saved anything, so I also started thinking about migrating for work. I paid Rs400,000 to an agent to take me to Cyprus for a domestic job earning 400 euros a month. Working in someone else’s house takes away your freedom in ways that can feel uncomfortable because you are always under scrutiny. Words and actions that are frowned upon in a professional workplace become normal within the walls of a home. There is no distinction between professional and personal aspects of life, such as work hours or overtime benefits. I later worked at a clinic and realised the tradeoff. When you are living on your own, you are not watched constantly, but then you have to pay for your own food, rent, electricity. After working in Cyprus for over five years, I decided it was time to return. I had unfinished business in Nepal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230716150740_8c605dd67d4e1cc6410814706060eae1b82535af3e7dede05c1f6d0468ffc94e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230716150740_8c605dd67d4e1cc6410814706060eae1b82535af3e7dede05c1f6d0468ffc94e" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora diaries Cyprus"> <figcaption>Pasang Lama was in Cyprus for five years.(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Tsering Lama: I came home to Nepal from Kuwait for a two-month break but ended up not returning because of Covid. To be honest, I would probably still return if my age was not a factor, since I could do with the extra money. For now I have started a small khaja ghar eatery in Kathmandu, and make enough money to survive. My girls took over from me doing housework. I passed on my responsibilities to my daughter when I went to Kuwait. My eldest daughter then passed on these responsibilities to my younger daughter to travel to Cyprus for work. And now my youngest daughter is in the UAE where she is working as a receptionist. This is the struggle and reality of a Nepali family these days. Still, we have not been able to break out of the cycle of poverty, and I am not getting any younger.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230716150744_c9cd26a872638cf80990bee4a3415016f0c6b53d836ef77652124bd2b712841b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230716150744_c9cd26a872638cf80990bee4a3415016f0c6b53d836ef77652124bd2b712841b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1075" height="1433" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries UAE"> <figcaption>Tsering Lama's youngest daughter is in the UAE where she is working as a receptionist.</figcaption> </figure>  My youngest boy is now a student at a monastery and I take solace in the fact that he is under proper guidance and close to God. But I worry about Pemba, my miracle boy. He wants to travel overseas but it has not worked out yet. All I have is a little jewelry that I am willing to sell for his recruitment fee. I want to see him settle down and be financially stable. He survived miraculously, but is still lost and struggling in a world that was not ready to see him go.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230716150740_007815033e3776f4883707b7a1974301faa1a230039a85c6536421c9ba09f749.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230716150740_007815033e3776f4883707b7a1974301faa1a230039a85c6536421c9ba09f749" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Daires Kuwait"> <figcaption>Tsering Lama's youngest son is a student at a monastery.(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Pasang Lama: My hunger for learning did not end even though I had to quit studies because of my circumstances. I saved some money from our work overseas and returned to Nepal in April which I am investing in education. Fourteen years after dropping out of grade 8, I am now preparing for my SEE. There was a time when studying felt like reaching out for the stars given my background. I am proud of myself for beating the odds. I ran away from my village after dropping out of school so I would not have to explain myself to every other person about why I had quit school despite being a bright student. But there was no escaping from myself. I have learnt a lot from the practical work I did in Cyprus, which will serve me well, but I still have a yearning for education.&nbsp; Translated from a conversation in Nepali.&nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Nepali family spread across Kuwait, Cyprus, UAE

It was their last day of high school, and as is the custom, the four students were writing messages on each other’s shirts. The students, Nirajan, Rajan, Niraj and Bisan, posted the pictures of the messages on their uniforms on social media meme groups, but never imagined that they would go viral across the country and abroad.&nbsp; The messages in Nepali read ‘Have a safe journey to Japan’, ‘Safe travels to Korea’, ‘Hope you have a good overseas journey’ or &nbsp;‘See you in the Gulf’, reflecting the actual plans of the four friends to go abroad.&nbsp; Nirajan and Niraj want to migrate to Japan, while Rajan and Bisan want to work in South Korea under the Employment Permit System. The Persian Gulf is the last resort for them. The four left their homes in Kavre, Ramechhap, Sindhupalchok and Lalitpur to study at Bageswari High School in Bhaktapur.&nbsp; “We don’t have many course options in our village to study,” says Nirajan. “Here, at least the teachers show up regularly, and when a teacher is absent, there are substitutes. Our principal is also very hands-on.” Finishing up Grade 12 is an important milestone, and foreign employment is the natural choice for many young Nepalis. This is reflected in the scrawled messages on the students’ shirts. “Our families took care of us so far, and we also worked part-time to cover our expenses. But once you finish 10+2, it will not be the same. It is our turn to become providers for our families,” says Bisan who, like the others, feels that a bachelor's degree in Nepal is not a viable option.&nbsp; It will be expensive to work and study in Kathmandu, and they believe that although it will be a struggle for a few years overseas, they will be set for life. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-fathers-sacrifice-for-his-son-s-dream">A father's sacrifice for his son’s dream</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230330090340_b32b6ef460fada6618b6d6253d1639a6e88c7d0867cddc07bb3a6161c6f2649b.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230330090340_b32b6ef460fada6618b6d6253d1639a6e88c7d0867cddc07bb3a6161c6f2649b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1328" height="419" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big"> <figcaption>Nirajan, Rajan, Niraj and Bisan, and the viral images of their shirts with messages ‘Hope you have a good overseas journey’, ‘Safe travels to Korea’, ‘Have a safe journey to Japan’ and ‘See you in the Gulf’. </figcaption> </figure>  The boys have already got a glimpse of just how untenable combining work and studies can be in Nepal. Niraj works as a waiter and has struggled to balance college and work. Despite working 12 hours a day sometimes in a party palace, he makes only Rs500 daily.&nbsp; Not only are wages low, the work is also demanding and does not leave time for studies. He says, ”If I have to struggle, I might as well do it in Japan because at least it will lead to something. Living in Nepal can be great for the well-off, not for people from our background.” There were times in their lives when the students aspired to be lawyers, engineers, accountants or journalists. Nirajan always wanted to work in a bank growing up because he was good at accounting. But his grasp of the subject declined during Covid lockdowns when he could not adjust to online classes and this was reflected in his SEE scores. So he gave up his dream of working in a bank and joined humanities. The photos of the students writing messages on each other's shirts were widely shared on social media for the same reasons as pictures of migrant workers lining up at the airport do: it reflects the government’s inability to retain the youth in Nepal itself.&nbsp; But they also showed the lack of support systems for the students as they make critical decisions about their futures. But questions to the students about who they aspire to be, or what led them to decide on Japan or South Korea, are met with silence or generic answers.&nbsp; They are unable to articulate why those countries, other than mentioning a distant acquaintance or the friend of a sister who is doing well in Japan or Korea. They view these countries as more realistic dreams than the US and Australia, which are out of their reach due to cost and because people they know have not chosen that route.&nbsp; The possibility of exploring scholarship opportunities for university abroad or in Nepal, is not on their radar. But their educational background has given them the confidence to dream beyond the Gulf and attempt language tests for Japan and Korea.&nbsp; Three of the four have immediate family with Gulf migration experience. Rajan’s brother is in the UAE, Niraj’s father is a former Qatar migrant, and Bisan’s brother is a gym instructor in Saudi Arabia.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage">The Qatar job mirage</a> Niraj is the son of a Qatar migrant returnee who spent over a decade overseas to provide for his family. “Things were much easier for us financially when my father was in Qatar compared to now when he is back,” he explains. “Now my father wants to send me to a better-paying destination country like Korea or Japan.”&nbsp; To this Rajan adds, “Even if we do end up going to the Gulf, we will make sure we take proper skills training and go there as trained workers, most likely in hospitality which we already have work experience in.” The students are surprised how widely their social media posts of shirt-signing went. But they want it to turn into tangible action. They want the government to pay serious attention to the dreams and future of the 500,000 plus Nepali students taking Grade 12 exams every year, for whom the education certificate does not amount to much to get jobs with liveable wages.&nbsp; In less than a month, they will take their final board examinations after which they have important life decisions to make. There are uncertainties ahead, including who will be the first to leave amongst this tight-knit group of friends, or what the ultimate destination will be.&nbsp; What is certain is that sooner or later, they will all leave. Chances are, they will see each other in the Gulf indeed. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green">Turning the desert green</a>

No country for young men

Kunda Dixit

Making overseas migration better

Growing up in Gulmi district, I was obsessed with football. Our village was perched on top of a staircase of terraced fields, none of them large enough for a football field. We played improvised, barefoot games in vacant rice paddies every day after school, running after a deflated volleyball while modelling ourselves after our favourite international stars. Mine, of course, was the Brazilian legend, Ronaldo. In 2002, I had &nbsp;watched the 2002 World Cup on a tiny colour television at home. The event gripped the country, and brought almost everything to a standstill. Growing up, the pressures of life in an impoverished country began to set in. Many joined the workforce, or went to India. By a stroke of luck, my father, a high school teacher in the village, won a diversity visa lottery to the United States. My family left Nepal when I was 13. When I was in medical college in Texas, most of my childhood friends back home were looking for jobs as menial labourers abroad. Nepal’s economy had stagnated during and after the decade-long insurgency, endemic corruption and political failure. Jobs were hard to find. The Persian Gulf was hiring, but the work required long hours in the heat for a few hundred dollars a month to send home. Others took less well-paying jobs in India, working as domestic help or in agriculture. One of them was my uncle, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pitambar.bhattarai.73/photos_of" target="_blank">Pitamber Bhattarai</a>, whom I met after years in 2010 while on a study trip to Delhi. He was working in a restaurant, and travelled hours to find me. We met in a sweet shop because he wanted me to try the famous Delhi confectionery. We spent hours reminiscing about my late mother, his older sister, whom we both missed dearly. I was seven years old when we had lost her to an unknown illness. The hope of preventing such tragedy from befalling others is what later drove me to become a doctor. For those few hours with my मामा in the sweet shop my mother was alive again, and I felt profoundly moved. As we parted, my uncle told me about his plans to take a better-paying job in Qatar. He was the sole provider for his mother, wife and three young children back home. Two years later, I learned that my uncle had died while working in Qatar, and his body was being repatriated to Nepal for the final rites. I was shaken to the core. It felt like I had lost my mother all over again. His death made no sense to me. He was young and healthy, full of life. The death certificate provided by his employer in Qatar only listed ‘cardiac arrest’ as the cause. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2aa9c7e80680e0d3030jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2247" height="3399">The author's uncle Pitamber Bhattarai</div> I was just starting my medical studies, and I knew that cardiac arrest is not a cause of death but rather the end itself. Despite our family’s efforts to find answers, there were none. I started reading up on the conditions of migrant workers in<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/sep/25/revealed-qatars-world-cup-slaves" target="_blank"> The Guardian</a> and other papers. It led me to wonder if my uncle’s death was also due to working conditions. <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/11/14/qatar-rights-abuses-stain-fifa-world-cup" target="_blank">Human Rights Watch</a> and <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde22/5388/2022/en/" target="_blank">Amnesty International</a> released reports at that time detailing some of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-rights-legacy-of-the-fifa-world-cup/" target="_blank">atrocities migrant workers face,</a> including the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-welcomes-qatar-labour-reform/" target="_blank">kafala system</a> that permitted employers to seize workers’ passports, effectively making them bonded labourers. I also learnt that on average one coffin was returned to Nepal with the remains of somebody’s family member every single day from Qatar. It was not just Nepalis, workers from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and numerous African countries faced the same fate. As a physician, I travel to Nepal frequently to conduct global health work in emergency care. On a recent flight from Kathmandu to Qatar, I sat next to a 27-year-old man from a remote village in eastern Nepal. Nervous and excited, he told me how, through connections from relatives working in Qatar, he found an agent in Nepal who arranged a two-year contract to work for a company called Ipas. They had promised to pay him $275 a month with a $82 food stipend. To arrange the job, he had already paid an agent in Nepal $1,500 -- more than four months’ salary. His first job would be as a paint scraper, and he was promised 8-hour-day shifts with a day off every week. His story was not unique. The flight, one of four from Kathmandu to Doha every day, was full of men like him. Many Nepalis <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/payupfifa-campaign-launched/" target="_blank">died constructing infrastructure</a> for the FIFA World Cup, but accurate statistics are impossible to find. Some estimates put the number at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pay-qatars-world-cup-workers-2/" target="_blank">more than 6,500</a>. Every one of them leaves behind a bereaved, bereft and already destitute family, now with fewer options for survival than before. Meanwhile, FIFA is estimated to earn nearly $6 billion from this year’s World Cup. World Cup stadiums built in Brazil, Beijing and South Africa had raised similar concerns. The Qatar experience has affected my family personally, but the issue of FIFA turning its back on human rights violations is not new. The football governing body must be held accountable. When the world learnt in 2010 that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/" target="_blank">Qatar had won the FIFA </a>hosting bid, questions were raised about how a country with only three stadiums would host the globe’s biggest sporting event. But Qatar had a plan. That plan included the blood, sweat and the lives of migrant workers. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/fifa-a-chance-to-improve-welfare-of-nepali-workers-in-qatar/" target="_blank">Desperate workers</a> plucked from South Asia and Africa were flown in, their passports taken, and they were put to work. So what if a few died? There would always be other desperate people trying to provide for their families. In fact, young men have headed out to work in Qatar <a href="https://time.com/magazine/south-america/6234377/november-21st-2022-vol-200-no-19-europe-middle-east-africa-south-america/" target="_blank">even after their own families have received dead bodies </a>of their loved ones, or their uncles or fathers were sent back due to ill health caused by the heat and poor on-site conditions. Nepalis are quick to blame their own government also for this situation. The country’s economic instability has affected millions for decades. Successive governments in Nepal must be held accountable for allowing hundreds of thousands of workers to be exploited in these overseas worksites under false pretenses, and for not advocating more for the rights of its citizens abroad. But employers in Qatar and FIFA must also be held to account, especially for the indignities and injustices wrought upon these workers after they landed in Qatar, and began toiling on infrastructure for the World Cup. I am not watching the World Cup this year because cheering on games being played in buildings that so many of my people died constructing feels a bit like I have cheated them. And because memories of my uncle do not allow me to. My personal boycott will not mean much, but I hope my uncle’s story will provide perspective about the individual human tragedies involved. Was there really a need in this day and age for the World Cup to rely on egregiously unsafe bonded labour? By placing profit over justice and decency, FIFA has undermined the positive values that give football its global appeal. I love football. I want Messi to win. Football is a religion in Nepal. This year, however, the joy I once found in the beautiful game is haunted by the ghosts of workers. Ramu Kharel is an Assistant Professor at Brown University in the United States and an emergency medicine specialist. He is the founder of &nbsp;Health Advance Programs to Serve All, &nbsp;<a href="http://hapsaglobe.org/" target="_blank">HAPSA Nepal</a>.&nbsp; TikTok <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@namastedoctor" target="_blank">@namastedoctor</a>, Instagram @<a href="https://www.instagram.com/namastedoc/?hl=en" target="_blank">namastedoc</a>, Twitter <a href="http://www.twitter.com/erdockharel" target="_blank">@erdockharel</a>.&nbsp; This is a <a href="https://southasiapeace.com/category/sapan-news-network/?fbclid=IwAR2Yi7NjhRViUUtnjcoHR8VK0MzsxuoJoNXOYx9hV1aJYmY4IklNAAEq-8E" target="_blank">Sapan News</a> syndicated piece.

labour-migration