Our lackadaisical approach

February 15, 2020

Janne Sunne

We cannot rest assured that the mountains will shield us from the coronavirus epidemic spreading to our north.

In next-door China, one of the most severe global epidemics has been raging since December, killing more than 1,400 people and infecting tens of thousands with a new coronavirus. A few hundred Nepalis, mostly students, have been appealing for rescue from the epicentre of the outbreak. They have not been evacuated as of yet, despite their guardians here pushing the government every single day to bring their loved ones back.

Nepal shares an 1,185 kilometre long border with China’s Tibet. Since there has not been a halt to arrivals from China and departures to the northern neighbour completely, Nepalis run the risk of being infected with the deadly virus. Frustratingly, our government does not appear to be working with a sense of urgency.

In Kathmandu Valley, a bowl-shaped place inhabited by around five million people which houses the central headquarters of state bodies, there is no isolated facility to treat cases of Covid-19, as the new strain of coronavirus is called. Government hospitals have no intensive care units vacant to treat new infections. Most worryingly, the government has still not fully prepared a quarantine facility to house the Nepalis when they are brought in. In medicines, personnel and equipment, the country of 30 millions appears to be doing virtually nothing. If we had such a viral epidemic right now, only Lord Pashupatinath could save us!

Emergencies are common in Nepal but we hardly act with a sense of urgency. To talk about recent phenomena, Nepal had an earthquake five years ago that shook us to the very roots of our being. The fatalities numbered close to 10,000 but the recovery and reconstruction effort is still going on in an ordinary way.

Later in 2015, right in the aftermath of the twin devastating earthquakes, India imposed an economic blockade and violent protests raged in Nepal’s Tarai for months. That fuelled the crisis across the country but more acutely in Kathmandu and the hills and mountains. That led KP Oli, who is the prime minister currently too, to take the initiative to open transit points with and via China to offset Nepal’s overreliance on India for foreign goods. However, since our trade with or via the southern neighbour currently goes as usual, there has been no seriousness to implement the trade and transit protocol with China.

Floods in the Tarai and landslides in the hills are perennial disasters in Nepal but our preparedness is simply too basic. Every year, hundreds of people are killed in the monsoon disasters and thousands of families swamped with water or displaced. Next year, the same thing happens. Why are we—or our authorities—so immune to not take drastic measures so that the problems are swiftly tackled next year?

Places in a country of moderate climate like ours are also becoming inhospitable. Around the year, people of the plains suffer deadly heat and cold waves, storms, flooding and inundation. Past summer through autumn, towns in the upper Tarai belt and Kathmandu Valley reeled under a dengue outbreak. In remote hill districts not served by national healthcare, even flu and diarrhoeal outbreaks have taken epidemic proportions. All the while, we’ve not cared to prepare.

We could actually use crises like these to build infrastructure so that affected people can be attracted to a safe area. Going back in history, we can look at Mahendra Highway, which was built through the unpopulated Charkose forest, far away from the densely inhabited southern Tarai and the hills. Today, big cities and towns have developed along the national artery.

That was a visionary decision taken six decades ago. By that account, we should have been able to do more things now that benefit the nation not just in the short term. Sadly, even today people are migrating from rural areas in the hills since the natural sources of water have dried up and the government has done nothing to channel water from the rivers that have been flowing unchecked for centuries for household use and irrigation.

We have enough unused spaces particularly in the hills and mountainous terrains to build facilities. Despite the devastation caused by the earthquakes, we didn’t build a single successful integrated settlement in the hills. Building towns would have eased service delivery, created local markets and encouraged people to be enterprising in their own villages. Since such efforts have not been made, migration particularly from the hills has been mandatory as a result of climate change and government apathy. Even a forced activity like migration may not be without some benefits but it generally leaves people vulnerable when they cannot easily cope with the new economic, social and climatic situations. In the place they deserted, a void is created and the rot sets in.

A disaster-ridden Nepal seems to have learned hardly any lessons. Did we preserve any open spaces in the five years since the earthquakes? Whatever few open areas we had were of great help in giving people of Kathmandu Valley refuge when they could not live in houses that were frequently shaken. In fact, we have encroached upon the remaining patches, not caring a bit about the possibility of such disasters in future.

Now, despite the coronavirus scare, we’re letting travellers in without screening at the Kathmandu airport. I believe our government should be capable of handling an emergency with much thought and efficiency and we deserve better arrangements. We cannot rest assured that the mountains will shield us from the Covid-19 epidemic spreading to our north. In the current state of our inaction, if the virus spreads here, those of us in Kathmandu will not even have face masks to protect. In that situation of unpreparedness, all we could probably do is pray to the almighty for our safety.