In the Words of Others

For the past month, I have been blessed with the opportunity to do independent research. I chose to focus on the carpet industry, and ended up writing a 63 page paper detailing its existence in Nepal. My research took place in three different factories. For those of you truly dedicated, I can send you what I wrote, but please don't expect much...I spent most of the month speaking really broken english/nepali/tibetan and so it is not my best writing. I learned alot during this month, but most of it wasn't studious...it was the absolutely fantastic experience of living in Nepal with just a few americans, and getting to know the Nepali. Of course, most of my friends were involved in some way with the carpet trade, but some of their stories are powerful enough that I want to share. You don't need to read all or any of them (I write a semi actual entry at the bottom of the post); take from these excerpts what you will, and if you want to discuss or hear more about them, let me know... am forever grateful for the people and their stories that gave a voice and heart to my paper and studies.

Anand Lama:

Anand Lama, like his sister is Tamang, though his family has connections outside the valley, he was born in Kathmandu. Fortunately, unlike many other Tamang, Anand was given the opportunity to go to the then, the only university in Kathmandu, and continued to pursue his MBA. In his words:

Cast in Nepal is still a big problem. There are no government opportunities for my caste. I am Tamang, so we have to be businessmen…in the private sector. When people talk and say, how come they can afford cars, it is because we work in the private sector, and we are not afraid of hard work. When government people work from 9 or 10 to 5 o’ clock sharp…I start my day at 5 or 6 to talk to international clients, and work all day…most days past 5. This is why we do well.

He started working in the industry because his sister offered him the job, but it has become his passion, and has a genuine love for business. His favorite part, he says, is the people he meets, and the places he travels. Of course, whether or not he would pursue another industry with the same vigor is untested; but he, like many of his manufacturing counterparts in the valley, is a firm believer in the capitalist system, particularly because his family has become and remained successful despite their own experiences with prejudice for their ethnicity.

Pema, Maya and Dholma:

Pema and Maya are Sherpa who moved from the village in the hopes of giving their children a better life, and an education. While in the village, they had three children, one elder boy and two girls. When their youngest daughter was just a baby, they moved into the city, thirteen years ago. Pema had learned to weave while in the village. It was a skill taught amongst his family. Upon reaching the carpet factory, he taught his wife who weaved briefly at the beginning. After saving for a couple of years, and with the help of his son, Norsang, who was deemed to be already too old to start school, Pema could afford to send Dholma and her younger sister to school, albeit a few years late for first grade. Today, they stay in the same factory which hired them from the village, but Pema and Maya no longer really work in the factory. They have also added to their family another son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. Their housing and minimum weaving is done by friends or their son. Their income is supplemented by Pema’s job as a labor contractor for companies in the gulf. All eight members of their family share one rather spacious room, though currently there are only seven because Norsang’s wife is currently in Kuwait. As Dholma once exclaimed emphatically, “Who really needs to work at this factory? They ask only what we want to give, you know?”

Though her analysis does give away her youth, at 16, Dholma virtually pays for her own education. Though she was born in a village about 4 hours away, her memories are of Kathmandu. As a child in the factory, she learned to weave from her mother when she was about 9. Nepali Law also dictates children 14 or older may work part-time in industries that are not physically dangerous, and does not interfere with their education. For the past two years during holidays and sometimes after school, she works on stock rug carpets. The income she provides is meager, usually her rugs are no bigger than 50 cm by 50 cm, but this becoming her future is a distinct possibility. When asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she responded only with a confused grin despite ranking 13^th in her class of 60. Unlike her counterparts in the United States, she had not really given her future much though. Two days later she told me, “A teacher. I would like to be a teacher, but you have to be in school for a long time. College is much harder than school.”Still, there is a chance she will not have to work with carpets. Many of the children who grew up in this factory no longer live there. As Tinley said, “Many kids, they see up close what factory life is like, so they try to get as far away as possible.” In either case, Dholma’s choice, and the path of her choosing, will not be particularly surprising to the workers of the factory.

Mina and Reena:

Mina* is a newcomer to the factory having only been here for two years. She chose it because many of her friends and family also work here. Originally, she says, she “wanted to see the city because so many people say that you can get jobs here.” So, despite the wishes of her parents, she ran away in the hopes of getting a job and making money in the city. Her sentiments were echoed across the room. Since coming to the city, life is much harder than she anticipated. The wages are just enough to make ends meet, but never enough to justify the hours that she puts in. “When we make a mistake,” she says, “we get beaten and yelled at.” She has often considered moving back home, as all the factory girls have, but there is nothing there. “Back in the village, there is nothing there. It is…boring.” There are no opportunities there, nor the opportunities she anticipated here. And even when she now visits home, she is antsy, having been used to keeping so busy. There are some conveniences like electricity, and just enough money to be a little wealthier than her village counterparts. But she maintains that even her friends at the factory are not enough to make the situation altogether bearable. As if on cue, the master, suspicious of our conversation, demanded I talk to someone else and yelled for her to pay attention to the loom.

Not all stories are so doom and gloom. “Some girls take longer to adjust,” says Reena*, a slightly older woman working on a different loom. Reena has been here for six years. She continues among the giggles of her loom mates, “There is room to work if you are hard-working.” Reena is married and has a three year old. Her husband also works at the factory, but between the two of them, they are still unable to afford tuition for UKG, the equivalent of pre-school. There are only about 6 or 7 children at the factory, the oldest is about six, none of whom appear to attend school. Reena, however, is adamant that her daughter will not weave. She intends to stay in Kathmandu so that her daughter may attend school and lead a better life than she. “I won’t teach her how to weave,” she insists. But in the background, her daughter playfully hammer away at the knotted bar on the loom. The women of the factory were reserved in their judgments and stories; concerned that the management would overhear, their criticisms were quietly delivered. In contrast, the men were far more forthcoming.

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I've written here what I have already transcribed, but there are countless number of individuals that I had the opportunity to meet whom I already plan on keeping in touch. Nepal is a beautiful country, but it has its problems. As much as anyone has read or studied, to visit the country and talk to the people gives an emotional side missing many intellectual circles.

As a random sidenote, this paper caused quite a flurry in terms of ethics; first because children are unavoidable in factories because workers live at the factory, and I am actually not allowed to talk to children. It was an interesting experience to say the least, but the issue of children is complicated, and no one had better throw around the words "child labor" around me because really most people have no idea the nuances and political ramifications of that phrase. I have watched factories torn down and workers thrown out onto the street because westerners tossed that phrase around. My second problem came about because the Maoists were in power and didn't want foreigners in factories. I was lucky because I'm indian and can blend in, but I definitely got kicked out once or twice...again a complicated situation getting even more complicated because the government fricken fell apart. To make a long story short the Prime Minister, who was head of the Maoists who control the parliament, resigned in order to please hardliner (violent) people in his party. My that was an intriguing experience. We were under house arrest for a day, but at the same time I was dragged into a political sphere of industry that I didn't intend on exploring. Thanks to more Nepali friends, I had the opportunity to talk to Maoists and the opposition party...though I guess now the roles have reversed. Anyway, it was particularly frustrating listening to politics because I had spent a month with people so disillusioned with politics, I cannot give it words. In Nepal, unions and political parties are virtually synonymous, and when I interviewed the head of the union of one political party, he flat out said that the party was doing nothing in terms of economics or workers rights. All of their focus was on the political process. Particularly ironic given that most people in KTM blame workers for bringing Maoists to power in the government. God I hate politics.

I could literally go on and on forever, but this is possibly the longest post ever, so here where I say my goodbyes folks. Oh Nepal...how I love you.

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