Nepalis desperate to make a better living have historically served in foreign armies, but rarely do they fight on opposing sides as is happening in the Russia-Ukraine war. Nepali soldiers who defected to the British side in 1815 during the Anglo-Nepal War did fight against their own country. The history of recruitment into the British and Indian armies is more than two centuries old, and to this day Nepalis serve in the Indian Army which is often engaged in border skirmishes with two friendly neighbours, Pakistan and China. Given the tradition of Gurkha recruitment, it was perhaps natural that Nepalis would find themselves on both sides of the frontlines in eastern Ukraine. For many of the Nepalis studying and working in Ukraine, the country was a stopover in their quest to get to Western Europe. Russia’s invasion in February 2022 offered a chance to do just that, as the borders with Poland and Slovakia were opened for refugees fleeing the war. But some Nepalis remained, and a handful joined the Ukrainian Army as the country mobilised men between 18-60. Within two weeks of the conflict, a video circulated on social media of a Nepali man claiming to be defending against the Russian invasion because Ukraine had given him food, shelter, and work. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-flee-ukraine-as-russians-advance">Nepalis flee Ukraine as Russians advance</a> Another 63-year-old Nepali father also decided to stay to fight because he did not want to leave his conscripted Ukrainian son behind.&nbsp; Kiev created the International Legion of Territorial Defence of Ukraine, a military unit of foreign fighters in its reserve forces. Thousands of volunteers from across the world signed up.&nbsp; As the war grinds on with heavy casualties, both armies are short of fighters. In May videos of Nepalis in camouflage fatigues in Russian training camps began to circulate on social media. Other clips of Nepalis in the Russian Army followed, with many in the comment section asking what the salary was like and how they could also enlist.&nbsp; Since then, hundreds of Nepalis based in Russia for study and employment have joined the Russian Army and some have been posted on the Ukraine front. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/trapped-in-ukraine">Trapped in Ukraine</a> Meanwhile, back in Nepal other youngsters are leaving for Russia on student and tourist visas to join the Russian military. Most have no prior combat training.&nbsp; Ramesh, a 30-something health graduate, got married two years ago. Unable to get a job in Nepal, he went to Russia hoping to find better prospects. He learnt Russian and found employment in a factory. But the &nbsp;employers were late with his salary, so he quit and did odd jobs until he discovered he could earn up to Rs400,000 a month by enlisting in the Russian Army. His ancestors had served in the Nepal and Indian armies, but Ramesh had no experience. Still, the salary was too attractive, so he joined up. “My brother has always been too thin, and has broken his right arm twice, and before this had never shown any inclination to be a soldier,” says Ramesh’s sister Sita. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uKxLKW80MoU" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> Ramesh’s weak build did not seem to matter, and the Russian Army was desperate for fighting men. On 15 May, he signed the contract to serve in the Russian Army. On 7 July, Sita got a message that he was undergoing training in a forest somewhere.&nbsp; Ramesh’s family have not heard from him since, although they heard rumours he was wounded and in hospital. His friend in Russia has also not been able to contact Ramesh either, and only knows that he was taken to the Ukraine front in Bakhmut.&nbsp; Many other Nepali conscripts are said to be in Bakhmut along with other foreigner mercenaries, and some have been able to speak to their families back home.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ukraine-crisis-hits-nepal-economy-hard">Ukraine crisis hits Nepal economy hard</a> The relatives say the Nepali soldiers described brutal battles with many dead and injured, and they were warned by Russian commanders not to contact anyone because they were in the ‘Red Zone’. Families of Nepalis in the Russian Army told us they were sent to the frontlines without adequate training, and were only getting one-fourth of the promised salary. Many of them have realised that the realities of war are much different and want to return home. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/ukraines-lessons-for-sandwiched-nations-like-nepal">Ukraine's lessons for sandwiched nations like Nepal</a>, Bhaskar Koirala  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230816030816_e4d3f36681298d158195c2bf8ad88373e48a7b031a10b60ad1e30f69625ee788.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230816030816_e4d3f36681298d158195c2bf8ad88373e48a7b031a10b60ad1e30f69625ee788" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bakhmut"> <figcaption>The Ukrainian city of Bakhmut after Russian shelling in September 2022. Many Nepalis recruited to the Russian Army this year are said to be on the frontlines in Bakhmut. Photo: WIKIMEDIA COMMONS</figcaption> </figure>  “What we want most is to be able to get in touch with family members over there, and for all Nepalis who joined the Russian military to be brought back safely,” says Ramesh’s sister Sita. “Nepalis must not be allowed to leave to join the Russian army from now.” Some of the Nepalis have been given Russian passports after &nbsp;President Vladimir Putin signed a decree in May to make it easier for foreign citizens who have served one year in the military to obtain naturalised Russian citizenship. &nbsp; “Six out of the eight people I lived with in my hostel joined the Russian Army, and I wanted to join too, but could not because I had to undergo surgery on my hand, ” says a student from Sarlahi who recently returned from Russia.&nbsp; “When I hear my friends on the frontlines weeping on the phone as they describe missiles raining down on them I am glad I did not join them,” he says. Even so, there are hundreds of other young men in Nepal who are attracted by the promise of high salaries to go to Russia or Ukraine to be recruited.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/what-does-defending-europe-mean">What does ‘Defending Europe’ mean?</a>, Slavoj Žižek Young Nepalis have been flying to Moscow on student visas, and those previously based in the Gulf have left for Russia on tourist visas. Russia has relaxed visa procedures to allow foreign fighters from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sudan, Congo and other countries to join its military. Foreign recruits were told they would undergo a three-month training before being sent into combat, but reports suggest that many of them, including Nepalis, are being taken directly to the frontlines within a month of signing up.&nbsp; “Everyone is terrified, but there is no way to come back because that would be tantamount to desertion,” says a Nepali student in Russia whose husband joined her in Moscow and eventually enlisted in the Russian Army. He had made &nbsp;several unsuccessful attempts in Nepal to join the Indian and British armies.&nbsp; But now, her husband also wants to quit and go home. “The only way to stop this situation from becoming more serious, is for the Nepal government to take action,” she adds.&nbsp; Having been in constant touch with recruits in the Russian army, the Nepali student compiled a list of 18 other Nepalis like her husband. They have contacted the Nepali Embassy in Moscow to facilitate their return.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-trial-by-fire-for-soldiers-from-nepal">India’s trial by fire for soldiers from Nepal</a>, Anita Shrestha But embassy staff say the Russian authorities are slow to respond, and have advised the Nepalis to fulfil their contracts and go home after their year is up.&nbsp; In Nepal, worried relatives have come to Kathmandu from across the country to meet Foreign Minister N P Saud and urge him to use diplomatic channels to bring their family members back home.&nbsp; Saud reportedly told them the ministry had approached the Russian government, but that rescuing their family members from the Ukraine front “would be difficult.” The Nepal government originally described videos of Nepalis in the Russian military as ‘fake’, but after pressure from relatives the Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued a statement asking Nepalis not to join the militaries of any nation except the ones that Nepal has an agreement with. The statement did not mention Russia. Nepal has agreements with India, UK, Brunei, Singapore, Oman for its nationals to serve their security forces, but &nbsp;Nepalis are also in the Ukrainian, Romanian, and French militaries. Retired Nepali soldiers have also been recruited by other nations to work in active war zones.&nbsp; There are more Nepalis fighting for Russia than Ukraine, but no one has an exact count. The only proof are individual posts on social media, and calls from the frontlines to fellow Nepalis in Russia or to families back home in Nepal. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/recruitment-of-nepalis-into-indian-army-paused">Recruitment of Nepalis into Indian Army paused</a>, Jibraj Chalise and Durga Rana Magar Most Nepalis who are on the trenches of eastern Ukraine are not too bothered about which side in the war is right. It is mostly about earning enough to provide for families back home by whatever means necessary. In 2004, 12 Nepali migrant workers who were promised work in Jordan but tricked into going to Iraq were kidnapped and executed by an Iraqi insurgent group. In June 2016, 14 Nepali security personnel working for the Canadian Embassy were killed in a Taliban suicide bombing attack while their envoy was en route to the embassy in Kabul. &nbsp; These tragedies are still fresh in Nepal’s collective memory, and the possibility of history repeating itself in another war zone has added to the desperation of families who worry about their relatives trapped in the Donbas. Ramesh’s sister Sita says: “People like my brother have made a mistake, but all we ask is for the government to bring them back home safely. ” Despite its policy of neutrality, Nepal has sided with the majority of nations to condemn Russia’s occupation of Ukraine. The question now is: how will the fact that its nationals are fighting in Ukraine affect Nepal's foreign policy position and standing on the global stage. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/in-the-line-of-fire">In the Line of Fire</a>, Editorial Identities have been altered to protect interviewees.

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Nepalis in the Russian Army want to quit

This 36th instalment of Diaspora Diaries. When I first went to the UAE in 1992, it was for two years. I ended up staying away for over three decades working for the Dubai Port Authority (DPA). After crossing 55, the retirement age for foreigners, I left in 2022. By then, I had spent more time in the UAE than in Nepal. Somewhere along the way, Dubai started feeling more like home. I used to be sad leaving Nepal after a vacation, but later started feeling like I was returning home when I boarded a Dubai-bound flight. I cannot pinpoint when that switch happened. I suppose whether in Nepal or the UAE I had to work and earn, and job prospects were better there. Vast improvements in mobile connectivity during the past three decades also helped to ease the burden of being away. As my salary increased and I gained more responsibility in my job, so did my aspirations and what I wanted for my family. When you start earning, even the nature of your dreams evolve. Whether they come true or not is a different matter, but even to dare to dream, you need to have something in your pocket. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-saudi-to-sauji">From Saudi to Sauji</a>, Rudra Bahadur Sapkota  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_def77ef286e03c3569b5cab9bf3fbfc5633cf4e61b700c1f87fd189d7c7d7d75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230707210756_def77ef286e03c3569b5cab9bf3fbfc5633cf4e61b700c1f87fd189d7c7d7d75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  I applied to go overseas in 1992 knowing nothing about Dubai. My attempt to find a book on Dubai in Asan failed. I had heard about “Arab”, not Dubai. I had to pay an agent Rs40,000 for the job, and did not have the money. So my mother sold her gold ornament. I would later find out that the employer had paid all my recruitment costs, and the agency had cheated me. I landed in Dubai at 1AM and my group was the manpower company's first international contract, and the manager also accompanied us. In 1992, the only tall building was the Dubai World Trade Center and seeing the city lights I was excited. But soon we were driving through the dark desert. The mailman used to come to camp with letters from home, and I remember rushing to him like children running after sweets. When I sent a letter to my family saying I am unwell, I would have recovered by the time it reached them. If my father did not receive my letter, he used to get angry and anxious. My father and I got closer through our letters and I became a better writer. I used to also dabble in songwriting. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tale-of-a-modern-day-lahure">Tale of a modern day lahure</a>, Uday Bahadur Baniya  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_951e0c4299985c5f01590b2d11f877ad630bb4a6d9416ebdab011fa150b8a8e8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230707210756_951e0c4299985c5f01590b2d11f877ad630bb4a6d9416ebdab011fa150b8a8e8" data-rendition-name="original" width="908" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  When we wanted to hear our family's voices, we headed to the phone booth with a plastic bag full of coins because it cost 9 dirhams per minute. We ran out of coins before we ran out of words to say, and left the booth with an empty feeling for the next impatient caller waiting in line. Getting to read something in Nepali meant so much then. There were no newspapers, but we used to even read the ads in the newspapers used to wrap things from home. Later, I subscribed to Kantipur and Saptahik. I had collected scores of books and magazines over the years. Sending money home was a problem as there were no money exchanges. Sometimes I sneaked some cash inside my letters, or relied on fellow Nepalis who were going home. Once, I saw a Nepali man wearing a dhaka topi on the street, and asked him to take some money to my family when he told me he was headed home. He did, although now in retrospect, I cannot believe that I was so trusting. There were so few Nepalis in the UAE in those days that any Nepali you met instantly became family. When we heard that new Nepali workers had arrived, we even reserved a car to go see them. We wondered if they were from our village, and were excited to hear all the gossip from home. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_f0da3da651fa11adf04479b6a62e36b349231ed7fe798b48698ffe6aef7588de.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230707210756_f0da3da651fa11adf04479b6a62e36b349231ed7fe798b48698ffe6aef7588de" data-rendition-name="original" width="557" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  Right in front of my eyes, the UAE was transformed and I changed too. My journey as a general helper began at a basic salary of 700 dirhams a month. By the time I left as Senior Clerk, I was making 5,500 dirhams ($1,360) basic salary along with an additional allowance of 3,200 dirhams. I know I am lucky compared to fellow Nepalis, which is why I stayed for 30 years in the same company. Many Nepalis still face problems, and I have helped many of them. There was no Nepali embassy until mid-2000, and we had to do what we could. When the UAE started prioritising jobs to locals, I was lucky not to be laid off. Many foreign workers had to leave. But I was incredibly unlucky with other things. I could not come to Nepal to spend the last days with my father. When he died, I could not hold him and cry. My brother also died while I was away. Nor was I here to hold my wife’s hand when my daughter was born. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230707210756_dd16cbfb95c5afedf6cd04d63c06b81fa845a01ea3bd9f2b06b0d518a1b63892.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230707210756_dd16cbfb95c5afedf6cd04d63c06b81fa845a01ea3bd9f2b06b0d518a1b63892" data-rendition-name="original" width="589" height="731" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  But my job gave me insight into activities that enabled the rapid transformation of the country. The port I oversaw handled general goods and these also included soil, stones and greenery from different parts of the world like Pakistan, Lebanon, Turkey and Iran that would be used to build the cities and turn the desert green. Even livestock were brought from Europe and New Zealand. Some of the cows would give birth en route. The 100 cows that were loaded into ships became 105 by the time they disembarked in Dubai, messing up the paperwork which had to be redone. I got to see and touch new models of cars even before they were released in the market. Lambos, Ferraris and Teslas, you name it. Someone from my background could never dream of owning them, and my dreams for myself and my family were more modest. I was not admiring the latest automotive technology so much, but wondered how they would fare in Nepal's rough roads. These slick new cars with low ground clearance would never make it to my village. 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  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023070722070_df805d1c9de559efa2ea67f6eea57cfb0153c0e8a1583152200dca48d41f8969.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2023070722070_df805d1c9de559efa2ea67f6eea57cfb0153c0e8a1583152200dca48d41f8969" data-rendition-name="original" width="604" height="453" loading="lazy" alt="DD 36"> </figure>  My job required me to train in the latest logistics management technologies. A recent visit to the land revenue office in Nepal with stacks and stacks of files made me wonder when we will reach that level. If the government wanted, I would even work for free for a few months to help upgrade our management systems. The world has really left us way behind. We citizens are also to blame. Nepalis tend to obey laws and rules depending where we are, and tend to be more relaxed about following them in Nepal than elsewhere. The UAE has a lot of oil wealth, and has also opened its doors for people from all over the world, offering them opportunities to invest and prosper. You can register a company in minutes using a smartphone. Even Nepalis in the UAE are now running their own businesses. I chose not to go that route since I wanted to come home. During my last days in Dubai, I remember getting emotional looking at the fully-grown neem tree I had planted in 2005 and nurtured with manure from imported livestock arriving at the port. Now in Nepal after 30 years, I am trying to find my footing. I know I cannot work for someone else. I am unsure what I will do next, and am aware of my age. I do not have the same energy of the young man who left for Dubai a lifetime ago.&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 Translated from a conversation in Nepali with Lek Yonzon Tamang. 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.

Return of the native

This is the 35th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. A local acquaintance in Baglung went around a village fair promising youngsters like me his son in India would send us to "Arab". This was the 1980s and back then for us there was no Qatar or Saudi or UAE, only Arab. And that was where the jobs and money was. You could earn 7kg of gold per year in Arab, we were told. We believed the man and 93 of us from Baglung headed to Mumbai, where he said we would be in transit. We were stranded there for 17 months. It is funny how the agent’s false assurances – “next week, confirm”, “next month, pakka” — would stretch to more than a year with no job in sight. We waited impatiently in Mumbai. But it did help that we could work and get around India. I worked as a security guard in an apartment complex, dreaming of the promised land. The families in the apartment would ask me to take their children to school, sometimes I would carry 8-10 of their school bags on my back, but I did not mind because that was extra income. One day, as I was walking with a friend to my company's management office to pick up my salary, I saw a sign with the picture of a plane on it. I asked the Indian agent there whether he had work visas for Nepalis. He said yes, and after paying Rs20,000 I was en route to Saudi Arabia to work in a bakery. I was not given advance notice about my flight, but I did not have much to pack anyway. Just three pairs of clothes, slippers and a towel that I quickly stuffed inside my bag. We got to the airport nervous and excited. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung In the rush to the airport, I did not have a chance to exchange money. But I did stitch in 500 Indian Rupees into the hem of my trousers. My hunger grew unbearable in my 13-hour wait at the airport in Riyadh for the next domestic flight so I decided to spend it even though it was all the money I had. I explained to the Sudanese at the counter in my broken English that I had no Saudi money, just Indian rupees. He laughed as he saw me struggle to remove the stitches on my trousers to take out my money. In exchange he gave me 8 Saudi Riyal. I bought biryani and Coke at an inflated price. The Pakistani waiter serving me was amused when I asked him for chillis as I downed my meal. Food has never tasted so good. After taking another domestic flight, I was finally at my destination. Day and night, without time off, I used to work at the bakery for 500 riyal ($130) a month. Between my boss saying "Tal, tal" (Come, come) to assign me work and my "Money problem, Money problem,", he gave me several raises. By the time I went on my first holiday, I was earning 1,200 riyal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120632_b047a814987b451df7ad6180dc01bae85f0eafa340ff5db8710df8b18e1b228b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230625120632_b047a814987b451df7ad6180dc01bae85f0eafa340ff5db8710df8b18e1b228b" data-rendition-name="original" width="965" height="1428" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 2"></figure>  I worked at the bakery for about six years, and then at a grocery store for a fraction of my bakery earnings. It was my naseeb (fate) that I fell into a trap, but had to stick around for 3 years. I had to ask my friends for money to send home. Finally, I transferred to a laundry shop where I earned 800 riyal per month. This is where my struggle and hard work started to pay off because I won the trust of my kafeel, and worked my way up to the manager’s post with six workers under me. I soon co-owned the business with him. I paid him a fixed monthly fee, higher than what previous expat partners had offered, and the rest of the earnings minus the operations costs was for me to keep. For 15 years, I managed to save up to Rs200,000 per month.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120632_7723c73101615a374590214a624b8e928c9df1d1e38453c4605f109dad761825.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230625120632_7723c73101615a374590214a624b8e928c9df1d1e38453c4605f109dad761825" data-rendition-name="original" width="1694" height="1056" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 3"></figure>  In 2017, I decided to return to Nepal despite the good pay and my boss’ insistence that I stay. I had worked enough and was tired, I just wanted to be home with my family. I was leaving behind a different Saudi Arabia. All I remember is vast expanses of sand when I first arrived there. When I left, the roads were wide and buildings had sprung up. I wonder how the three decades went by. Earnings in Nepal are enough, if at all, just to make ends meet. Anything more, and I would have to pack my bags to go overseas again or find reasons to stay abroad. And I wanted more. I had bought a plot of land in Baglung in 1989 after spending a few years in Saudi Arabia. To build a house in that empty piece of land, I had to go overseas. I relocated my sons to Kathmandu because there was no future in the village, especially during the Maoist conflict. I now wanted to sell my Baglung land to buy land and a house in Kathmandu. That meant I had to migrate overseas again.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120636_496ee89e3e7405d5267dc6dad4e6c6550827543ad593c8c0057eb6b86980b74c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230625120636_496ee89e3e7405d5267dc6dad4e6c6550827543ad593c8c0057eb6b86980b74c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 5"></figure>  The sacrifices I made during my foreign employment, communicating over letters with my newly married wife that took 28 days to reach, working around the clock without keeping track of time, or missing key milestones as my sons grew up, all paid off for me in different ways. Despite being from rural Nepal, I managed to build a house in Kathmandu and got extra income from the rent. My sons have both completed their bachelors in IT and have well-paying jobs. They will soon be going abroad for their Master's. 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> These are the goals I accomplished by being away. For nearly three years after returning I did nothing. But slowly, the urge to work returned and I started exploring multiple options in Kathmandu, from starting a party palace to a momo store to a poultry farm. Given my experience in Saudi Arabia, I also considered starting a bakery or a laundry, but these were high cost investments. I could neither afford the kind of machines I had used overseas nor expect the same levels of returns in Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120636_decb61422a13681d5a9d6dd2bd4673d8ac1ff573697301279ef9192dff71d79c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230625120636_decb61422a13681d5a9d6dd2bd4673d8ac1ff573697301279ef9192dff71d79c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 4"></figure>  Eventually, I found a spot in a vegetable market in Dhumbarahi. My brother and I invested just Rs130,000 initially, and four years later we sell about a ton of vegetables daily at wholesale prices. Our days start at 2AM as we collect produce from suppliers from Chitwan, Kavre, Makwanpur and Dhading. We sell the produce until 10AM and resume again at 2PM. From 6-6:30 pm onwards, I start selling off what is left at a cheaper price, sometimes at a loss. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan By this time of the day, I am so desperate to get rid of the entire stock of vegetables that I start hawking to draw customers. It helps to stand out in a crowd of sellers who are all facing the same time pressure to do away with remaining perishables. I first had a difficult time understanding the market. Where do we get produce at good rates, who do we sell them to and at what price? At what stage is it better to give away unsold produce at lower prices, sometimes even taking a loss, before they go bad completely? These are things I learnt along the way.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230625120640_95ba664516743f05ae5b683c1451c5f8794f977b0336b7e2e78d7f28abfc6ce5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230625120640_95ba664516743f05ae5b683c1451c5f8794f977b0336b7e2e78d7f28abfc6ce5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 6"></figure>  The stakes are not as high in my current work as in other businesses. So far, when I have made losses and sold produce at low prices, I have managed to recuperate it within a few days. It is a relief that I do not have to worry about back-breaking loans or huge losses that trap many entrepreneurs. And I particularly like being referred to as a ‘sauji’, as I wouldn’t have enjoyed working under someone for a pittance. Business is good but I do get tired more easily these days. My age is slowly catching up on me. I began my struggle when I was 17, four decades ago. In a few years, I want to sell my business and take it easy to just rest and travel. I want to take my wife to Mumbai to show her where it all began. To my days as a young security guard in the city, dreaming of Arab and the promises it held.

From Saudi to Sauji

This is the 34th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis who have lived or are working abroad. Growing up in rural Gorkha, I saw planes long before I saw cars. Those tiny silver dots that flew over our village on their way to or from Kathmandu.&nbsp; It was only when I was big enough to go to the bazar town nine-hour walk away to buy salt and other household goods that I saw a bus for the first time. I remember staring at it in awe, walking around it touching the metal surface with the tip of my fingers. I did not get on the bus. I had nowhere to go.&nbsp; Years later, as a grown-up, I found myself inside an airplane for the first time flying from Kathmandu to Malaysia. &nbsp;That was nearly 20 years ago, and I got a job in a factory that made files and envelopes of all sizes that were exported to nine countries.&nbsp; My starting salary allowed me to save around Rs7,000 per month.Even for that salary, I had paid over Rs100,000 as recruitment fees. The management responded to my resignation requests with offers of higher salary.&nbsp; I rose up the ranks to become team leader in charge of 144 fellow migrant workers from different countries, including Nepal. I had to make sure they delivered products on time while ensuring their safety.&nbsp; The work was difficult and required both mental and physical strength. As team leader, I was responsible if they made mistakes. One wrong move and you could lose a finger in one of those cutting machines with sharp blades. Our thumbs were valued at Rs2 million each, with other fingers much lower. That was the compensation we got if we lost them in a job accident.&nbsp; In the first few months after their arrival, most fellow workers got homesick and struggled with the physical demands of the job. I oversaw their work, but above me was also a CCTV camera that oversaw me. I could not ignore a worker who was taking a nap or slacking off.&nbsp; This was in the mid-2000s. I was one of the first Nepalis in my workplace when I had first arrived, so my circumstances had compelled me to learn to speak Malay.&nbsp; Perhaps this is also why I was a good fit for the team leader post so I could help with translations. Sometimes, I had to translate the supervisors' scolding or the workers' apologies or grievances about unmet demands.&nbsp; I often did more than translate, though. To lessen the blow of an angry word or humanise the challenges of toiling around the clock, far from home. After all, our lives oscillated between an angry "balik rumah" (go home) or encouraging "bagus" (well done). We all toiled 12 hours a day single-mindedly to provide for our families back home. &nbsp; One tough part of my job was handing out coveted overtime slots on Sundays, when the pay for workers was double. We were there for the money, and the extra payment held a lot of significance to workers.&nbsp; They begged me for overtime hours, but I had to assure them that the rotations would be balanced. If not this weekend, they would get the hours next weekend.&nbsp; In Malaysia, my colleagues and I used to pool our resources to send a larger amount home in rotation to meet big ticket items like paying off big loans like those borrowed to pay recruitment fees at high interest rates or when there were family emergencies like big health expenses.&nbsp; By the end of my nine years there in Malaysia, I was saving Rs65,000 a month. When I was ready to head home, my supervisor told me that he thought of me as an integral part of the team, and handed me an envelope with a cash token of appreciation. He told me that his company's doors were always open for me. But I never went back.&nbsp; In the last 108 months I spent in Malaysia, I was home in Nepal only for three months, and I needed to devote my time to my family.&nbsp; With my savings, I bought some property in Gorkha which has quadrupled in value, and allowed me to invest in my children's education. My daughter finished her undergraduate degree in journalism and my son, who I met for the first time when he was almost four years old, is now finishing up high school.&nbsp; A neighbour in my village had called me at work in Malaysia to inform me about the birth of my son. I spent 300 ringgit to celebrate that momentous day with my colleagues in Penang.&nbsp; After returning to Nepal, I was first a driver for politicians with high posts. But it was impossible to be a good provider at a driver's salary despite the long hours.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230607140620_6fc41ca4d470ba4c1a98a7ff6d8c03c2df6425651b77a47a679db952bf8fcfea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230607140620_6fc41ca4d470ba4c1a98a7ff6d8c03c2df6425651b77a47a679db952bf8fcfea" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspore Diaries 34"> </figure>  It is no wonder that Nepalis migrate overseas for work. You work hard either way, in Nepal or abroad, but you only earn a liveable wage abroad. I soon bought my own taxi and even though I work long hours, I am glad I don’t have to give away most of it to a साहु. I earn more than Rs100,000 a month, and it has been good.&nbsp; When I was working for politicians as a driver, I realised why power is so important in Nepal. My wife was almost killed when she was hit by a truck. &nbsp;The owner refused to pay, and the hospital bills racked up. It was only after a threatening call from my politician boss that the perpetrators agreed to pay the medical bills. &nbsp; Nepalis like me without power or networks are deprived of what is rightfully ours. Foreign employment can provide us with resources which can give us courage. When my wife again fell ill with cancer, it was the land and taxi that I bought with overseas earnings that gave me the collateral to borrow money to ensure she got the care she needed. My brother who is working abroad also insisted on chipping in for my wife's cancer care. Without resources, even the most willing informal networks are unable to help during times of crises.&nbsp; My wife is now cancer free. She is healthy and after ages, is back to her old self. I will use the same collateral to get the loans to send my daughter abroad for her Master's so she can make a future for herself. I take a lot of pride in the fact that a simple driver like me can now send my daughter abroad for higher studies. I cannot think of a better investment for her and our family's future. Once my children are settled, my wife and I long to go back to our village in Gorkha. I spent a few months there during the pandemic and got a glimpse of how comfortable rural life is. My customers there include elderly widows in their 80s and 90s from lahure families who have to go to the bank to receive their pension.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230607140620_3696c279e03b50c9db2534e4ba53caedca041ed69f9570842d6510a67c8d8d74.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230607140620_3696c279e03b50c9db2534e4ba53caedca041ed69f9570842d6510a67c8d8d74" data-rendition-name="original" width="1458" height="1944" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspore Diaries 34"> </figure>  It’s a three-hour drive and they want me to stop twice en route so they can enjoy their homemade alcohol and boiled eggs that they carry from home. In the village, you know all your customers and they know you personally. The earnings might be lower, but we do not have to pay rent or buy expensive food like in Kathmandu. But most of all, at home there is peace of mind.&nbsp; My struggles began over 35 years ago when I escaped to Kathmandu with my cousin, enticed by the possibility of earning enough to be able to afford to eat rice every day.&nbsp; I now long to go back where I started, enjoy life at a slower pace after decades of hard work. &nbsp; &nbsp;Translated from a conversation with the author. Other 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;

Tale of a modern day lahure

Migrant workers in the Gulf lack health and safety protection from the region’s extreme summertime heat and humidity now made worse by the climate crisis.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/labour-pains">Extreme heat exposure</a> can cause rash, cramps, heat exhaustion, or heat stroke, which can be fatal or have lifelong consequences.
Heat stress is also suspected to be one of the reasons behind what is now termed as ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/disproportionate-number-of-deaths-of-Nepali-workers-in-Malaysia,2812">sudden death syndrome</a>’. Outdoor migrant workers mostly from South Asia engaged in construction and agriculture are disproportionately affected.
“Despite substantial scientific evidence on the devastating health impact of exposure to extreme heat, Gulf states’ protection failures are causing millions of migrant workers to face grave risks, including death,” says Michael Page, deputy Middle East director at Human Rights Watch (HRW).
He adds: “Gulf states should prioritise creating a comprehensive strategy to address occupational heat stress, and international organizations that claim to champion international labour rights should speak out about the issue.”
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/labour-pains">Labour pains</a>
Between 2021 and 2023, Human Rights Watch interviewed 90 migrant workers from Bangladesh, India, Kenya, and Nepal about heat and health safety issues in Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates (UAE).
Researchers found that workers were unable to sufficiently recuperate from the heat, in part due to a lack of sufficient rest areas, air-conditioned accommodations and water.
Workers were not always allowed to set a safe pace either. These conditions cumulatively often lead to serious consequences, including heat-related deaths.
The average daytime temperatures in the Gulf during summer months often exceeds 40°C with temperatures sometimes climbing to 55°C at over 80% humidity. All Gulf states apply a summer midday work ban that prohibits employers from continuing outdoor work during pre-defined times and months.
Qatar's 2021 legislation goes further, at least on paper, as it prohibits any outdoor work when the Wet Bulb Globe Temperature (WBGT) rises beyond 32.1°C.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/north-indian-heat-wave-hits-nepal">Wet bulb temperature</a>, the threshold temperature for what a healthy person can endure for several hours is estimated to be around 30°C and 31°C in warm humid environments.
While enforcement gaps remain, the 2021 Qatari legislation is a positive foundation because the wet-bulb temperature is a more accurate tool for monitoring heat stress risks, states HRW.
Other Gulf countries should adopt similar legislation because midday work bans have failed to protect workers.
“At work [in Qatar], we had to pour out sweat from our shoes,” says one former construction worker. “Our socks and t-shirts would become so soaked that we had to wring them out multiple times a day.”
Multiple studies focusing on heat exposure risks in Gulf states found a strong correlation between heat stress and deaths due to cardiovascular problems and indicated that extremely hot days are associated with higher mortality risk, with migrant workers disproportionately exposed.
<a href="https://oem.bmj.com/content/80/6/347">A study in Kuwait</a> has found a substantial increase in the risk of occupational injuries associated with extremely hot temperatures despite the midday work ban.
<a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/333293731_Assessment_of_Heat_Stress_Exposure_among_Construction_Workers_in_the_Hot_Desert_Climate_of_Saudi_Arabia">Another study</a> found that the highest heat intensity for workers in Saudi Arabia was from 9AM to noon, while the ban is in effect between noon and 3PM.
Says a UAE returnee: “While the company never tried to make us work during the summer afternoons, people would still fall ill or faint earlier in the mornings, between 10AM and 12 noon.”
Adds another: “[Even] excluding these three hours… the air is as hot as fire.”
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/turning-on-the-heat">Climate change</a> has further exacerbated the problem. According to the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the Gulf’s ‘extreme wet-bulb temperatures are expected to approach, and possibly exceed, the physiological threshold for human adaptability (35°C).’
Governments have also failed to enforce the inadequate heat protections they have in place. Many workers said their companies violated the rules partially or fully.
“Sometimes the employer made us continue the work [during summer ban hours] secretly. In such cases, we used to deploy some workers to guard if someone from the government or inspection department came,” says another UAE returnee.
Ironically, Gulf countries where migrant workers are exposed to heat stress are the world’s biggest exporters of fossil fuels and are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/oil-rich-gulf-turns-to-renewable-energy">major contributors to climate change</a>. The hotter it gets the more air conditioners are used, and these are powered by fossil-fueled thermal power plants.&nbsp;
“One day I fainted at work,” a worker in Saudi Arabia said. “Colleagues took me to the resting room … and poured water on my head. Within minutes I was conscious. I rested for a while and started working again because my colleagues told me this is very common.”
And yet, workers continue working because the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">alternative is no income</a>. Self-pacing and maintaining work-rest schedules are useful heat mitigation strategies but it is nearly impossible under abusive supervisors or in time-bound employment projects.
Meanwhile, deaths not attributed to work-related causes, which exclude adverse health outcomes attributed to heat exposure, are not eligible for compensation under labour laws in the Gulf, and life insurance seldom covers deaths described as ‘acute heart failure due to natural death.’
Says Michael Page: “To knowingly put migrant workers in harm's way without substantial protections from heat is inhumane, and Gulf states need to act with urgency ahead of the scorching summer to address these problems.”

Gulf workers need protection from heat

This is the 32nd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I have worked overseas for nearly two decades, hopping around the Gulf countries from Saudi Arabia, UAE, Qatar to Kuwait. I even landed up in Seychelles. I came to Nepal twice but left again for better earnings overseas. After my SLC, I started working as a waiter for a salary of Rs450. I was also a sportsman, and worked as a wushu trainer. When a friend who had returned from Singapore came to visit me, he inspired me to go abroad for a secure future. Until then, I had not considered moving overseas. I handed him my freshly minted passport and he applied on my behalf. Before I knew it, we were both headed to Saudi Arabia to work as trolley boys in 1996. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty">Wounded in the line of duty</a>, Antare Khatri  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205050_45812962b472daa81dec9f69b756188be6cfb80e64b9e460a1e73b2985523d91.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023052205050_45812962b472daa81dec9f69b756188be6cfb80e64b9e460a1e73b2985523d91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="747" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>Babare Bahadur Bomjan in Nepal in 1992 when he was earning rs450 per month.</figcaption></figure>  My starting overseas earnings was just Rs13,000. By the time I returned in 2011 from Dubai, I was earning up to Rs400,000 a month in a managerial position. But after all that time being away, I no longer had a reason to linger around overseas. My family was settled, and I was financially stable. It was time to go home. After returning, I worked in a café for some time but I wanted to start something on my own. Having grown up working in the hospitality line, starting a restaurant seemed like a natural next step. Momos were the obvious choice, but I knew I had to do it differently to stand out. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205050_fdc410dc9f999914de3bf8f89206735a23e1f71434e37f3b9d24006a09e58365.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023052205050_fdc410dc9f999914de3bf8f89206735a23e1f71434e37f3b9d24006a09e58365" data-rendition-name="original" width="1157" height="777" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>In 2001, Bomjam ended up in Lemuria Resort in Seychelles.</figcaption></figure>  My research showed that extremely spicy Korean ramen noodles were very popular among young Nepalis. This was the niche I could fill in the momo market where customers could adjust their spice levels. I chose a name that would stick: ‘Akbare Jhol Momo’. We sourced akbare chilis directly from farmers to keep costs low so it would be affordable for common people. Rent is high in Nepal but during the pandemic lockdown, I lucked out even though it was a risky move given the uncertainty. It has now been three years, and we are doing well with three outlets in Kathmandu. The restaurants are always busy with people enjoying the hit that the hot chili gives them, without causing a dent in their pockets. My hunch about the demand for spicy momos in Nepal was fortunately right. 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  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205054_a73ca0028b726536664f9fd65e7b944bee9c293d430aedbb17ab502a4e036e31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023052205054_a73ca0028b726536664f9fd65e7b944bee9c293d430aedbb17ab502a4e036e31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1244" height="802" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>Bomjan was working in Pizza Inn in Qatar in 2004.</figcaption></figure>  Everyone wants to go abroad these days. There are Nepalis who earn over Rs1 million there and those who earn only Rs30,000. The struggle is much harder if we go overseas without any real experience and skills, which later also impedes our ability to climb the career ladder. We now have good hospitality management schools in Nepal where people can get degrees in the field. With the right education and experience, more Nepalis will make it to leadership positions not just as chefs, but also in front of house positions. I returned to Nepal despite a handsome salary. Being home brings a sense of comfort and satisfaction that I cherish. I am around family, provide youth with jobs, am connected with my community and get to follow my passion. The overseas journey had been full of missed moments and sacrifices. Right after my marriage in 2002, I had just spent 19 days with my wife before returning to Dubai. When I met my eldest daughter for the first time, she was already three months. These were at a time when phone calls were still expensive. 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  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205050_b1c455e455b7441525af88edc8fa2e24773ef800cfe2208b185f1507e53173a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2023052205050_b1c455e455b7441525af88edc8fa2e24773ef800cfe2208b185f1507e53173a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1232" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>One of the outlets of Akbare Jhol Momo in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>  The trepidation of leaving cushy jobs to try something back home is understandable. I have talented friends who have worked overseas as chefs who returned to Nepal, failed with their ventures and were compelled to remigrate. I myself had started a restaurant in 2004 that did not work out. I had an investment plan, but not a plan to draw customers nor an understanding of the Nepal market to make informed decisions about potential locations, target populations, lowest cost sourcing strategies and what we could bring to the market that is refreshing and new. Money by itself is not enough. Customers won’t come automatically no matter how much you invest. The invitation needs to reach target customers in a way that appeals to them. In fact, I advise people to start small and build gradually, instead of gambling away all their hard-earned money. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Finding a niche in Nepal

This is the 29th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. The last time I counted, I had done 23 odd jobs by the time I was 22. From teaching computer classes to running a digital photo studio, to even performing in a dance bar, I had done it all. But nothing stuck. I discontinued my undergraduate in humanities because I did not find it practically useful. On the advice of the principal of the school I was teaching in, I applied for a job in Afghanistan via an individual broker who had also sent his son there. After the series of failures I had faced in Nepal, going overseas felt like the only remaining option. After paying 3.5 lakhs for a visit visa, I was en route to Afghanistan in 2010 via UAE. Or so I thought. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin I was instead transported to an abandoned house in Ras Al-Khaimah. There were about 60 people like me crammed in that windowless house who were sold the Afghan dream. A few had failed in previous attempts to travel to Afghanistan but were determined because the agent was good at exploiting their desperation. There were no pillows or blankets in the rooms, just thin mattresses. From day 1, I knew I was in trouble. A sinking feeling of hopelessness tugged at my heart. We tried at least to make our situation bearable, and some of us used whatever money we had to cook our own food. It helped us to kill time. On the 20th day, a foreigner finally came to interview us. I was selected but instead of Afghanistan, he wanted to send me to Iraq. I declined. I complained loudly to my agent, and he reluctantly allowed me to leave the house. I used that opportunity to go to an internet café to print resumes which I passed on to Nepalis that I met along the way. I helped my friends do the same. A Nepali security guard came through and 14 of us were invited for interviews at a hotel opening. On the 26th day in the UAE at the interview venue, we finally got to eat good food for the first time. Seven of us passed the interview. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina The agent tried to prevent us from taking the job by holding onto our passports and, later, from repaying our recruitment fees, claiming credit for our job placement. I was not having any of that, so I returned to Nepal and took back every paisa I had paid the agent. After two months, our new employer sent us our work visas and we went to the UAE again to work as a housekeeper in a hotel. I did not understand the concept of dignity of work, and hid from my family how I was making beds in a hotel for a living. As a former teacher, I did not want them to see me as a failure and pressure me to return home. The hotel allowed us to cross train, and I tried out the engineering department where the Sri Lankan supervisor was impressed with how I answered his technical questions and completed his construction related tasks. As a grandson of a carpenter and mason, I grew up with construction tools and had picked up skills. Every day, I would do housekeeping for 9 hours, and spend another 5 to 6 hours in the engineering department. My passion for what I was doing fuelled me despite the long hours. That sense of belonging had been missing when I was a teacher, a housekeeper, a pastry maker and even a dancer. I started applying for jobs at other hotels and got a call from the Marriott in Qatar and got a job in the MRT (Make Ready Team), a standby for all types of maintenance work. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230428200412_c5e817f43c9230433de917afbb19cf907e50c956f565562fc10a7b6a3f0b3ed3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230428200412_c5e817f43c9230433de917afbb19cf907e50c956f565562fc10a7b6a3f0b3ed3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2333" loading="lazy" alt="DD 29"> </figure>  I worked extremely hard at various Marriott locations and received Best Employee of the Month awards regularly. I even got a Spirit to Serve award signed by Bill Marriott himself. Later I would find out that a German long-stay guest in one of the Marriott apartments had sent a glowing reference about me to headquarters as I helped with maintenance work in the couples’ apartment. She was short-tempered with a record of formally complaining about other Marriott staff including the GM himself, so it was quite flattering that the couple was impressed with me. After spending four years in Qatar, I again transferred back to the UAE where I worked as a senior technician at a Marriott there. When Covid-19 hit, my life priorities changed. The virus demonstrated the fragility of our lives, and I just wanted to be with my wife and daughter. My managers did their best to keep me back, even offering to let me take a six-month leave. But I just wanted to come home, as being away for 11 years was too long. With travel restrictions, coming home was not as easy, and it was a while before my name was finally in the Nepal Embassy’s list of people eligible to travel. My insistence to return home could also have been driven by my confidence about job prospects, especially in maintenance and repairs in new hotels. I had a niche to fill.&nbsp; Today, my company in Kathmandu Complete House Repair and Maintenance Solutions provides a one-stop service for all kinds of maintenance and repair services including plumbing, painting and electricians. Clients do not have to rely on different individuals or companies for different construction services or to manage schedules. Word of mouth has worked well for me, and my customers include Marriott, Hotel Dragon and Palisade. Good work can take you far as we can rely on happy clients to bring us more business. This is an important lesson I learnt from the Marriott culture that is serving me well now. I also took a Building Electrician test (Level 2) and taught a practical electrical course at Bageshwori College. Frustrated with how youth are underrepresented in politics, I am also now an elected member of the Suryabinayak Municipality. My business is going well, but it is difficult to build a professional team in Nepal that cares about the basics, like punctuality, dedication, safety wear, and feels a sense of responsibility about finishing work in a timely manner as we commit to our clients. I find it especially surprising because the same Nepalis in Qatar or UAE that I worked with are recognised and valued for our work ethics. The wage difference, I am sure, is a factor to drive motivation, but so is the overall work culture in shaping work ethics. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230430130448_2cbe2e73d61dbb95e731ab6dc2d6e0c4cb94b8c14fb8685d0ffcf189fb74c067.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230430130448_2cbe2e73d61dbb95e731ab6dc2d6e0c4cb94b8c14fb8685d0ffcf189fb74c067" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1309" loading="lazy" alt="DD 29"> </figure>  I have come a long way from the first time I entered the UAE in 2010 as a victim of fraud. Today, I am in a much better position, with knowledge and finances that are serving me well in Nepal. Reflecting on my journey makes me emotional. The friends that I am in touch with from the crammed building in the UAE are also doing well for themselves. One is in the UAE working in the kitchen of a Sheikh’s family. Another works in a hotel in the Maldives. And the third who worked in the laundry department runs a tailoring store back in Nepal. I have not forgotten them, and our deeply disappointing start 13 years ago as migrant workers hoping to get into Afghanistan. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their 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.

Migrant worker returns to create work at home

This is the 27th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. It has been 16 years since I left Nepal after finishing Grade 12. I was already in Dubai when I found out I had passed my exams. Growing up in Chitwan with four sisters, I never had to do any household chores. My father, a teacher, made sure I was never deprived of anything. So, when I had to suddenly work as a waiter in the UAE, it was not easy at first. My English was not good and I had no Arabic, which made my initial days abroad very difficult. Soon, I was transferred to the dishwashing department of Gloria Jeans Café. The two months I spent behind the scenes as a dishwasher were life-changing because the barista's bar was close by and a Sri Lankan was kind enough to teach me the art of coffee-making. I transferred to his department, and that was when my coffee journey began.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130424_9a75b5fe2f57760ae2bc99725f74d14dc51b3abf971df97691a8b8b7d1adf13d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230410130424_9a75b5fe2f57760ae2bc99725f74d14dc51b3abf971df97691a8b8b7d1adf13d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1152" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  When the Sri Lankan won in a GJC barista competition, I too made it my goal to participate in the competition. Not only did I win it next time, I also got to participate in regional and global competitions in which I secured second place and even got to travel to Egypt. You get 15 minutes each for preparation, presentation and clean-up and are evaluated by certified judges. The judges evaluate the presentation part by certified judges. This learning can be transformational because you are no longer mechanically preparing coffee to serve your customers, but you have to learn the mechanics behind it, experiment with different recipes and present your story in a compelling manner. And all this happens under extreme pressure live on camera and with an audience. During my presentations I shared stories about why I had to leave Nepal, and switched from being a tea lover to coffee. What you learn in these few months during the competition easily outweighs working passively behind the bar for years because you push your boundaries and find out what you are capable of. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130416_a6d4f579b65d57dca9e6f65c46f902137aadc4580578c2115ef7126f44f1547a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230410130416_a6d4f579b65d57dca9e6f65c46f902137aadc4580578c2115ef7126f44f1547a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  I have gotten to work in unique cafes like Majlis Café in the UAE that was a camel milk café and then at Boon Specialty Café where I learnt to care about the origin of coffee, right from farmers to roasters. Us baristas also have the ultimate responsibility to ensure it is brewed perfectly, working in specialty cafés expanded my horizon to think about the story behind the beans. It was while I was working in the UAE that I came across investors in Qatar who were looking to start a specialty café in Doha. I have been working at Flat White for the last five years since its launch as manager and trainer.&nbsp; Given my love for socialising with people and for coffee, my friends and I started Coffee Samaj Nepal recently. It is still a relatively new organisation and one of our aims is to complete the paperwork necessary to conduct training by Nepali coffee enthusiasts for Nepali jobseekers in Qatar for promising baristas.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130416_bd81c48c040a86163aafbe1a19e9204500319726577fcb47bfc841266cbbe4aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230410130416_bd81c48c040a86163aafbe1a19e9204500319726577fcb47bfc841266cbbe4aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  My relationship with coffee has been evolving over the years. Initially, latte art was exciting as it gave new baristas an opportunity to experiment with different patterns and art forms. My favourite patterns are tulips and rosetta, but I also enjoy other patterns like seahorse, chameleon, and swans. Then I found it exciting to experiment with different roast levels and brewing temperatures to come up with that perfect mix of flavour and aroma. It is always motivating when my regular customers demand that I prepare their drink for them. I put in a lot of care while preparing each cup. Now, my passion is to produce and promote baristas, and helping coordinate barista competitions can be an important platform to promote talent. I no longer participate in competitions myself but help younger baristas do so. Coffee Samaj Nepal recently organised a Latte Art Throwdown in Qatar in which there were 64 participants, and the winners were a Nepali and two Filipinos. In another Qatar national barista competition, we played the role of coordinator, which was won by a Filipino with Nepalis coming second and third. When capable baristas cannot afford participation fees, we help fundraise. These competitions provide people an opportunity to showcase their talent and get recognised in the coffee sector. As a previous winner in competitions, it certainly helped elevate my profile in the region. With Nepalis winning in many barista related competitions that are judged by renowned SCA certified international judges, it sends a powerful message that Nepalis are as good as the best in the world and this could translate to better opportunities globally.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130416_bc29f025d6fc680fb662abb84c5c4a784cd718465f1d5a9aa0d7fc4d4bd92679.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230410130416_bc29f025d6fc680fb662abb84c5c4a784cd718465f1d5a9aa0d7fc4d4bd92679" data-rendition-name="original" width="536" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  When baristas come to Qatar from Nepal after getting trained and gaining some work experience in cafes, it is much easier for them to pick up on the job requirements. Nepal’s barista training is good but not enough. Given the differences in machines used, coffee grades and techniques, they still require training on the job for a while before they can handle the role on their own. But there is great demand for baristas overseas, and Nepalis are building a strong reputation in this category.&nbsp; There is potential not just to export Nepali coffee making services, but also high quality Nepali coffee. The high altitude and climate of Nepal makes it favourable for good quality coffee production. When my friends and I eventually return to Nepal, we want to help promote Nepali coffee globally. As a coffee aficionado, I deal with coffee every day, but I still cannot forget the whiff of my first ever coffee the first time I tried it as a 21 year old in Dubai 16 years ago. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a> Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a0899c7e80680e0d7040jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="1200"/>I grew up in Ramechhap. I had to walk 12 hours to get to Manthali from my village for my SLC exam. This was during the Maoist era, and that made it quite dangerous to stay on in my village.Risking our lives was only one of the obstacles we faced to complete our studies. Of the 106 students in my batch, only 10 of us passed the exam.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/proud-to-give-back-to-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Proud to give back to Nepal</a>I went to Kathmandu for higher studies, and remember travelling on top of a public bus to get there. I did not have the support of my family in the city, and had to work hard. I got a job in a clothing store that earned me Rs1,200 a month, and the longer I worked there, the more I wanted to set up my own clothing business.But I did not have the start-up capital, and no one from my family or circle of friends was willing to lend me money. I was just 18, and they thought that was a risky proposition.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a08d9c7e80680e0d7041jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="295" height="291">So, I did what every Nepali my age did then and still does: In 2008, I packed my bags and migrated overseas for work. I got a job at a factory in Malaysia, loading boxes full of surgical gloves onto shipping containers. It used to be so hot and humid inside the metal containers that I would be drenched in sweat. I had to stop to squeeze the sweat out of my wet t-shirt every half an hour or so. After that I got a job in a remittance company which was physically less taxing.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a08e9c7e80680e0d7042jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="705" height="478">Working overseas was challenging, but at least I made some money. In 2010, I returned to Nepal with about Rs700,000 saved up to start my own clothing store.  My unfulfilled dream was finally coming true. People also trusted me more to lend me money, I was older, more mature and had exposure overseas.My clothing store did well, and as the business expanded I opened six more outlets across the capital. But I used to always be curious where the clothes I sold came from, how they were made. When I travelled to India, Bangladesh and China to source the garments for my store, and I used to visit the factories of my suppliers. I often wondered why we couldn’t manufacture the clothes in Nepal itself.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Speaking the language of overseas work </a>I finally mustered the courage to purchase seven sewing machines and started making clothes in my apartment. The response from customers was encouraging. I started closing down my shops, and expanded the manufacturing by adding 60 more machines.Before long, my garment brand Thread Garment became a full-fledged clothing supplier. We produce men’s wear and supply outlets all over Nepal, even selling tracksuits, sleeping bags and thermocots, which previously used to be imported, to the Nepal Police and Nepal Army. My clothes with the Made in Nepal tag are now sold in Malaysia, Qatar and Dubai, the very countries where Nepali work.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a0919c7e80680e0d7043jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="825" height="522"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a0949c7e80680e0d7044jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="1200">I have not received any support from the Nepal government. It would be helpful if they could help position Nepali garment and other manufacturers in Europe and the US. The Nepal embassy in countries abroad could facilitate the trade, because what we really need support with is access to international markets.All most people need is a platform to work hard, a break to demonstrate what they can do. That is all foreign employment is for many Nepalis who leave the country in droves. I am trying to give that opportunity to Nepalis here at Thread garment — I have 600 employees in Kathmandu and 250 in my Itahari branch.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-to-save-my-sisters-life/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Saving to save my sister</a>I am just 34, but I feel like a guardian to the workers and their families. When a mother is sick or a child’s school fees need to be paid, I need to be there for them. My own humble roots and struggle allows me to understand what they are going through.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a0989c7e80680e0d7045jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="831" height="517">It is a big responsibility to be the centre of hope for so many people, but we have built a strong management team of 42 staff that have developed organically over the years who feel a sense of ownership towards the company. When I do well, we all do well. They know this and have become a solid pillar of support.I was never trained in running a business. I don’t have a degree, and only completed high school. But I know how to persevere. I am learning as I go. I believe that if I can do it, so can others.Many Nepalis return from overseas with some savings. They try to invest in a business, but being disconnected to Nepal while they are abroad, and being impatient for results means they can make rash investment decisions. If it fails, they re-migrate and this can be an unending vicious cycle.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140216/63e3a09c9c7e80680e0d7046jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853">Sometimes what they invest in is not at all related to the field they have an expertise in. My journey in the garment sector actually began when I was 18 and worked in a clothing store as a student.Perhaps I would not have reached here if I had invested in a business I was unfamiliar with. People may not know me, but they know Thread Garment. It takes years to understand the market and build a brand.Translated from a conversation with Krishna Timilsina. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.

Cut from a different cloth

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058c39c7e80680e0ce1bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: RABIN NGHEMA LAMA</figcaption></figure>Sameer Gurung, 30, who goes by the alias Green Brain, believes in the uniting power of football, and will be watching the matches in the 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar with the rest of the world. But knowing about the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pay-qatars-world-cup-workers-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">abuse and death of migrant workers</a>, including from Nepal, the artist in him was bursting to come out.Gurung felt that a world infatuated with ‘beautiful game’ does not know enough of what went on behind the scenes in building the stadiums in the desert.“The 90 minutes of a matchbreaks barriers, brings players from various backgrounds, nationalities, race and ethnicity together on the same field, playing for the same goal,” explains Gurung. “But people have no idea of what it took to have those games. We pretend not to notice and go on with our lives.”Gurung expresses this frustration through gigantic wall murals in Kathmandu under the title Chyatiyeko Yatartha ('torn reality') in which the artist uses torn clippings, with song lyrics and three-storey high messages addressing government apathy. It is at once discomforting and revealing."The abuse faced by migrant workers is intolerable, but I am neither a public speaker, nor do I protest in the streets," he says. "All I have as a medium of expression is art and, this way, sitting in my room, I can give voice to my discontent."<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058c79c7e80680e0ce1bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6000" height="3375">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/">Rights referees blow whistle on World Cup fouls</a>, Kunda DixitChyatiyeko Yatartha is Green Brain's second solo project. With it, he wanted to raise the concern through gigantic street graffiti to reach the public, especially Nepal’s youth.His first series, Buda Paka, in February drew attention to preserving the heritage and culture of Nepal. Drawn on the wall of a building in Asan, the artwork showed a man carrying a kharpan on his shoulders as he walks through an old street as brick walls, carved windows, doors and shop fronts curve before him. The idea here was to remind the youth to preserve and promote the hard work of the older generation, so that the culture and heritage may survive into the future.His affinity to layers of meanings, that viewers slowly unravel one at a time, is reflected also in his chosen name, which he picked in 2017. For him, green is more than just the colour of nature. "Green is life and positivity which I relate to," he explains. A fluorescent green hue is present in all his work, which also relate to the local heritage, culture and activism."As for the Brain in my name," he adds, "that's because I am fascinated by people's thoughts, and how we become our thought."<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058cc9c7e80680e0ce1bejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3895" height="5842">Gurung's love for art goes all the way back to Grade 2 in school when he would draw patterns on the margins of notebooks, often competing with friends to see who would draw better, faster."I always had an inkling for art," he recalls, and when he completed his SLC, he went to a tattoo artist to see if he could train under them for three months before +2 classes kicked in."But the artist said I was a little too young then," Gurung adds, "saying I should wait until I had completed high school."He realised he was not made for jobs, and entertained the idea of leaving Nepal. His brothers are based in France and he has a few friends in Australia, and he thought he ought to do the same. Go somewhere, just anywhere.But because he did not have the grades, he did not want to limit himself to menial jobs just for survival abroad. So he returned to open a tattoo shop with a friend. At first he practiced on close friends who allowed him to gain some practice on their skin.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058d09c7e80680e0ce1bfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">When his friend left for Australia two years later, Gurung closed the shop and started teaching himself other different forms of art, including digital."I did not want to rush overseas because it was evident that I would not get the space and freedom to be creative, as I would have to worry about working hard just for survival," he explains. "At least here in Nepal I have my family for support. More importantly, Nepal is quite magical, so I threw myself into art."He participated in various commercial art projects in this time, including the work of French-Tunisian artist eL Seed, who is famous for championing the art of ‘calligraffiti’, a mixture of Arabic calligraphy and graffiti. Titled 'Like Her', the project in Giranchaur in Sindhupalchok was unveiled in 2021 and depicted the words of Yogmaya Neupane (“There is nothing between us, nothing at all. Your eyes have tears, just like my own.”), a pioneer poet and revolutionary who spoke against the Rana regime and committed jal-samadhi by jumping together with 67 disciples into the Arun River in 1941.'Like Her' explored the role of women in rebuilding villages destroyed by the 2015 earthquake. The 170m long installation covered the rooftops and connected each house to another, linking the voices of the women, sharing their wisdom, strength and resilience.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058d49c7e80680e0ce1c0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1149">Chyatiyeko Yatartha too is richly detailed, and a call to attention. The centre-piece is the World Cup trophy and Lusail Stadium, where the final match will take place on 18 December. They drip at one corner under the scorching desert heat, like beads of sweat and tears of the tens of thousands of migrant workers who toiled to build them."The Government also hopefully will take this more seriously and ensure their protection such that abuses are minimised in the future," he adds. "If we don’t raise our voices for our fellow citizens, what incentive will there be for the host country governments to act?"While Human Rights Watch (HRW) and other activist groups launched a global campaign #PayUpFIFA in May, calling on FIFA to compensate migrant workers involved in building stadiums and other infrastructure and to avoid the legacy of what they call a ‘World Cup of Shame’, Qatari Labour Minister on 2 November rejected such calls, calling them publicity stunts and accusing Qatar’s critics of racism.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/qatar-refuses-payoffs-to-world-cup-stadium-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Qatar refuses payoffs to World Cup</a> <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/qatar-refuses-payoffs-to-world-cup-stadium-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">workers</a><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710128/639058d79c7e80680e0ce1c1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6000" height="4000">Chyatiyeko Yathartha is Gurung’s way of protesting abuse and deaths of workers in Qatar and how the families are still not compensated, and he is working with a Scottish colleague on a 8x10m art piece that has taken six months to complete.He says, "This is how we channel our rage. What has happened cannot be undone, but in the future, hopefully, migrant workers can have a better experience abroad."The project was not without hiccups. Gurung had initially wanted to set up the artwork at the busy Sorha Khutte junction near Thamel. But the neighbor of a multi-storeyed building refused the graffiti to be painted. A friend in Lalitpur offered the wall of their house.A <a href="https://youtu.be/6IC22EfiQFw" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">documentary on the painting</a> process will take the mural to a wider audience and raise awareness of the reality of migrant workers, and was launched on Green Brain’s YouTube channel on 18 November."Imagine if a worker from the West had died in Qatar, the outrage it would spark, the investigations that would take place,” says Gurung. "So many Asians have died over the years in Qatar but no one cares. I am not sure what my art will do, but at least I did my small bit.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-rights-legacy-of-the-fifa-world-cup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Labour rights legacy of the FIFA World Cup</a>, Meenakshi Ganguly and Mohna Ansari

migrant-workers