Everyday at a different, unknown time the electricity throughout all of Nepal simply blacks out. Most of Nepal’s energy (maybe all) comes from hydroelectric power, and during the dry season, October through May, there is neither enough dams nor water to power the country. Everyone knows of this as load shedding, which does exactly that: sheds the load on Nepal’s electrical grid. For a country trying to develop itself, losing power 3-4 hours a day (sometimes more) certainly does not help their industry or productivity in any way. Newspapers talk of many solutions, from nuclear energy to more dams, but all solutions require excessive amounts of money that Nepali’s do not have. Above, Sita cooks in the dark. Obviously, unlit cooking happens everywhere, but in a major metropolitan area, in a middle class home? Yea, weird.
Coupled with an absence of electricity, petrol has become a much sought after commodity. The past weeks have seen indefinite strikes in an area known as the Terai, mainly the southern half of Nepal. These strikes are linked to one of Nepal’s many ethnic groups, the Madeshi, feeling left out of the political process. In fact, they feel so underrepresented in the fledgling political sphere, they want their own country. These strikes, or “Bandahs” in Nepali, are situated along the Nepal-Indian border where a majority of Nepal’s imports, including petrol, cross into the country. As a result, and at least in Kathmandu (I haven’t been or seen it anywhere else), long lines form at the limited number of petrol pumps around the city.
Inextricably linked to the border stand-offs, the supply of kerosene, used for cooking and the heating of people homes, has not escaped the bamboozling turbulence. More long lines, more waiting, and as can always be predicted: the distributor runs out. People walked home with empty jugs, just as they sometimes walk away without fuel in their gas tank. What amazes me is these people simply shrug their shoulders and walk away. (notice they have coca-cola and an ipod, but still empty jugs)
My first 3 days in Kathmandu there was another bandah in the city proper. Tires were burned in the streets, people shouted passionately, and all businesses and traffic were shut down. Unfortunately, I was very green and didn’t have the courage to take any pictures. This bandah was pointed at the government and their announcement to raise fuel prices. After 3 days of screwball shenanigans (the tires smelled terrible, some busses were destroyed with bricks), the government reneged the original price hike, much to the people’s happiness. Following the analysis of these events, I’ve concluded absolutely nothing. Economically speaking, prices for fuel go up. Simple. The people of Nepal are very poor. Complicated. Looking at things socially complicates it even further. No fuel for heat, for cooking, or for day-to-day business, not only exasperates poverty, it creates poverty.
http://www.eyeini.com/eyeini
Coupled with an absence of electricity, petrol has become a much sought after commodity. The past weeks have seen indefinite strikes in an area known as the Terai, mainly the southern half of Nepal. These strikes are linked to one of Nepal’s many ethnic groups, the Madeshi, feeling left out of the political process. In fact, they feel so underrepresented in the fledgling political sphere, they want their own country. These strikes, or “Bandahs” in Nepali, are situated along the Nepal-Indian border where a majority of Nepal’s imports, including petrol, cross into the country. As a result, and at least in Kathmandu (I haven’t been or seen it anywhere else), long lines form at the limited number of petrol pumps around the city.
Inextricably linked to the border stand-offs, the supply of kerosene, used for cooking and the heating of people homes, has not escaped the bamboozling turbulence. More long lines, more waiting, and as can always be predicted: the distributor runs out. People walked home with empty jugs, just as they sometimes walk away without fuel in their gas tank. What amazes me is these people simply shrug their shoulders and walk away. (notice they have coca-cola and an ipod, but still empty jugs)
My first 3 days in Kathmandu there was another bandah in the city proper. Tires were burned in the streets, people shouted passionately, and all businesses and traffic were shut down. Unfortunately, I was very green and didn’t have the courage to take any pictures. This bandah was pointed at the government and their announcement to raise fuel prices. After 3 days of screwball shenanigans (the tires smelled terrible, some busses were destroyed with bricks), the government reneged the original price hike, much to the people’s happiness. Following the analysis of these events, I’ve concluded absolutely nothing. Economically speaking, prices for fuel go up. Simple. The people of Nepal are very poor. Complicated. Looking at things socially complicates it even further. No fuel for heat, for cooking, or for day-to-day business, not only exasperates poverty, it creates poverty.
http://www.eyeini.com/eyeini
No comments:
Post a Comment