A bandh is a strike called by any group of people who feel they’ve been cheated, harmed, ignored, repressed, or otherwise disenfranchised. In fact, the very day we arrived in Kathmandu there was one in effect because the newly appointed vice president gave his acceptance speech in Hindi instead of Nepali. That didn’t go over very well at all since Hindi is the official language of India and many Nepalis are tired of Indians meddling in Nepal's politics. Imagine what would happen in the U.S. if Obama gave his acceptance speech in Arabic?
Sometimes a bandh shuts down the whole city. Roving groups of young men force stores to close and protestors block the major intersections. In other cases, like the one that happened this week, the blockade is on a road leading into Kathmandu. Last Monday there was a man murdered in Dhulikhel by some thugs. The Transportation Workers, of which the victim was a member, called an immediate bandh in the small town of Banepa which is on the main road between Dhulikhel and Kathmandu. That road, the Arniko Highway, is the major artery for commerce between Tibet (China) and Nepal, and it is also the only way to get to the Kathmandu University campus in Dhulikhel.
In a situation involving a murder or negligent death (such as being hit by a bus), the purpose of the bandh is to force the government to provide compensation to the victim’s family. The common Nepali worker has no life or accident insurance, so the Transportation Workers’ demands included a 1 million rupee ($15,000) payment to the family, guaranteed employment for the widow and an educational fund for the children. They set up their roadblock early Monday morning and only allowed motorbikes, ambulances, tourist buses and embassy vehicles to pass. Most of the students, faculty and staff of Kathmandu University commute in buses from Kathmandu, so a bandh essentially cancels classes.
Our plans for that Monday were to have Sachin drop me off at the campus and then take Bonnie for some sightseeing around Dhulikhel. We didn’t know about the bandh until we got to Banepa. Sachin was concerned about driving through the protestors even when some of them waved us through (the car we use has embassy plates) because there are always a few in the crowd who are looking for any reason to resort to violence. But, we were able to drive through without incident. However, when we arrived at the University, hardly anyone was there and the door to my building was locked.
Having driven that far, we decided to spend the day going to Namo Buddha about an hour’s drive south of Dhulikhel where Buddha, out of compassion for their hunger, was said to have cut off a part of his thigh to feed a hungry tigress and her cubs. There’s a small temple and an engraved plaque depicting the scene. On the same hill is a large and very beautiful Buddhist monastery and retreat where lots of new building is being funded by wealthy Chinese Buddhists (from Taiwan, Malaysia, Indonesia – not mainland Chinese). The ride there wound through steep, rocky roads but the temple and views were well worth the bumps.
Going back home through the roadblock, Sachin seemed to be even more concerned by the look of the protestors. They had been there all day and were hot and tired. But, once again, we drove through with no problem, although there weren’t nearly as many smiling faces in the crowd as there were in the morning.
On Tuesday, Sachin was schedule to pick up the other Fulbright professor and his wife who had spent a few days at a hotel in Dhulikhel. I usually take the bus on Tuesdays, but learned from a student at the bus stop that the bandh was still in effect. It would have been potentially dangerous for Sachin to drive through the roadblock by himself, even with embassy plates, so Bonnie volunteered to go with him. “They won’t hurt an old white woman,” she said. Sachin had told us that having a Westerner in the car helps because the protestors know they can get into far more trouble beating up Westerners than their own countrymen. It’s bad for tourism!
They got through the bandh just fine going both ways, although the wife of the other Fulbrighter was starting to make scared sounds when they came back through Banepa. Bonnie had to distract her by asking about their recent trip to India. After that experience, Bonnie says she’s considering hiring herself out to the Fulbright Commission as a bodyguard.
An early call Wednesday morning to Anuroop, my basketball buddy and a K.U. teaching assistant, confirmed that the bandh was still going and that classes were cancelled for the third straight day. Between the 15-day Dashain holiday, the upcoming 4-day Tihar holiday and these bandhs very little teaching was going on this month at the University. The graduate Research Methods course that I teach twice a week will end up meeting only twice in October.
There was also a rumor on Wednesday that the street vendors were calling a bandh in Kathmandu for the following day. They are upset over a recent decision by officials to get them off the sidewalks. The government feels that having so many vendors under foot is starting to turn off tourists by blocking their path and by the constant “hard selling”. From a tourist’s perspective, I see their point, but then again this form of business is the only income for hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Fortunately, the bandh was called off when the vendors and government officials agreed to hold talks to see if a compromise could be reached.
I have mixed feelings about bandhs. On the one hand they are extremely damaging to an already fragile economy – people can’t get to work, goods can’t flow in and out of the city, and tourists are hesitant to go out and spend money. But on the other hand, what alternative do people have? Without taking such extreme measures, no one listens to them. The level of frustration seems to be getting even higher since the new government came to power this summer. The hoped for reforms have not been forthcoming due to political maneuvering between opposing political parties, and people are feeling that nothing will ever change. So, until things do change they have no recourse but to “strike up the bandh.”
Sometimes a bandh shuts down the whole city. Roving groups of young men force stores to close and protestors block the major intersections. In other cases, like the one that happened this week, the blockade is on a road leading into Kathmandu. Last Monday there was a man murdered in Dhulikhel by some thugs. The Transportation Workers, of which the victim was a member, called an immediate bandh in the small town of Banepa which is on the main road between Dhulikhel and Kathmandu. That road, the Arniko Highway, is the major artery for commerce between Tibet (China) and Nepal, and it is also the only way to get to the Kathmandu University campus in Dhulikhel.
In a situation involving a murder or negligent death (such as being hit by a bus), the purpose of the bandh is to force the government to provide compensation to the victim’s family. The common Nepali worker has no life or accident insurance, so the Transportation Workers’ demands included a 1 million rupee ($15,000) payment to the family, guaranteed employment for the widow and an educational fund for the children. They set up their roadblock early Monday morning and only allowed motorbikes, ambulances, tourist buses and embassy vehicles to pass. Most of the students, faculty and staff of Kathmandu University commute in buses from Kathmandu, so a bandh essentially cancels classes.
Our plans for that Monday were to have Sachin drop me off at the campus and then take Bonnie for some sightseeing around Dhulikhel. We didn’t know about the bandh until we got to Banepa. Sachin was concerned about driving through the protestors even when some of them waved us through (the car we use has embassy plates) because there are always a few in the crowd who are looking for any reason to resort to violence. But, we were able to drive through without incident. However, when we arrived at the University, hardly anyone was there and the door to my building was locked.
Having driven that far, we decided to spend the day going to Namo Buddha about an hour’s drive south of Dhulikhel where Buddha, out of compassion for their hunger, was said to have cut off a part of his thigh to feed a hungry tigress and her cubs. There’s a small temple and an engraved plaque depicting the scene. On the same hill is a large and very beautiful Buddhist monastery and retreat where lots of new building is being funded by wealthy Chinese Buddhists (from Taiwan, Malaysia, Indonesia – not mainland Chinese). The ride there wound through steep, rocky roads but the temple and views were well worth the bumps.
Going back home through the roadblock, Sachin seemed to be even more concerned by the look of the protestors. They had been there all day and were hot and tired. But, once again, we drove through with no problem, although there weren’t nearly as many smiling faces in the crowd as there were in the morning.
On Tuesday, Sachin was schedule to pick up the other Fulbright professor and his wife who had spent a few days at a hotel in Dhulikhel. I usually take the bus on Tuesdays, but learned from a student at the bus stop that the bandh was still in effect. It would have been potentially dangerous for Sachin to drive through the roadblock by himself, even with embassy plates, so Bonnie volunteered to go with him. “They won’t hurt an old white woman,” she said. Sachin had told us that having a Westerner in the car helps because the protestors know they can get into far more trouble beating up Westerners than their own countrymen. It’s bad for tourism!
They got through the bandh just fine going both ways, although the wife of the other Fulbrighter was starting to make scared sounds when they came back through Banepa. Bonnie had to distract her by asking about their recent trip to India. After that experience, Bonnie says she’s considering hiring herself out to the Fulbright Commission as a bodyguard.
An early call Wednesday morning to Anuroop, my basketball buddy and a K.U. teaching assistant, confirmed that the bandh was still going and that classes were cancelled for the third straight day. Between the 15-day Dashain holiday, the upcoming 4-day Tihar holiday and these bandhs very little teaching was going on this month at the University. The graduate Research Methods course that I teach twice a week will end up meeting only twice in October.
There was also a rumor on Wednesday that the street vendors were calling a bandh in Kathmandu for the following day. They are upset over a recent decision by officials to get them off the sidewalks. The government feels that having so many vendors under foot is starting to turn off tourists by blocking their path and by the constant “hard selling”. From a tourist’s perspective, I see their point, but then again this form of business is the only income for hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Fortunately, the bandh was called off when the vendors and government officials agreed to hold talks to see if a compromise could be reached.
I have mixed feelings about bandhs. On the one hand they are extremely damaging to an already fragile economy – people can’t get to work, goods can’t flow in and out of the city, and tourists are hesitant to go out and spend money. But on the other hand, what alternative do people have? Without taking such extreme measures, no one listens to them. The level of frustration seems to be getting even higher since the new government came to power this summer. The hoped for reforms have not been forthcoming due to political maneuvering between opposing political parties, and people are feeling that nothing will ever change. So, until things do change they have no recourse but to “strike up the bandh.”
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1 comment:
A good description of Bandh's, and of course they're a bloody nuisance. They only people who really suffer in a bandh, and over the last 40 years of being married to a Nepali wife we have never understoo why the aggrieved people don't go and protest at the houses/homes of those who can do something about it. I'm surprised there has never been a bandh about a bandh, if you see what I mean!
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