Teej is a women’s festival that is observed annually in Nepal. This year, the three days of Teej were celebrated from August 31st-Sept 2nd. Traditionally, married women observe Teej by fasting and praying to Lord Shiva for the health of their husbands. Unmarried women also observe Teej practices in hopes of finding a good husband. Traditional songs and dances are an important part of Teej and and can be seen in all parts of Nepal during the week leading up to Teej and throughout the three days of the festival.

On Saturday, August 30th, 2008, Radio Jagaran in Butwal, Nepal hosted a Haritalika Teej festival. All members of the community were invited. The main purpose of the Haritalika Teej competition was to conduct a special Teej festival by giving emphasis on social inclusion for all women from all communities throughout Nepal. Uma Paudel, Jagaran Media Center’s regional program coordinator, stated that the program has three primary objectives.“Most importantly, we want to make women aware of their rights through Teej songs which will create public pressure to address women’s issues in making the new constitution,” she said. The Haritalika Teej program at Radio Jagaran also served to reveal the difficulties faced by women in Nepal, including issues of violence against women, social discrimination, HIV/AIDS, trafficking, and safe motherhood using the traditional lyrical Teej song style. Participants were required to write and perform an original song that addressed one of these five issues face by women in Nepal. Jagaran Media Center and Radio Jagaran hope that the competition acted as a lobbying force to encourage Constituent Assembly members to ensure that the rights of all women will be represented in the constitution making process. Radio Jagaran’s Haritalika Teej competition involved 40 singing groups competing for prizes and accolades, including 10,000 Nepalese Rupees for first place, 5,000, 3,000, and 2,000 Rupees respectively for second, third, and fourth place standing.

Shivaji Gayak, Radio Jagaran’s station manager, was thrilled that more than 2000 people from the community took part in the festivities at the station. When asked about the purpose of Radio Jagaran’s Teej competition, Gayak said, “We wanted to give a message to strengthen women’s rights and we would like to see all members of the community support this vision.” From my own personal experience, I would say that the program was overwhelmingly successful. It seemed as though the entire town of Butwal was there. Women had eyes darkly shaded with kajal and draped themselves in bright red, sequined saris and long beaded marriage necklaces. I was surprised that the event was also attended by many men who were just as eager to see the songs and dances and pushed their way towards the stage to garner the best view. A sudden downpour in the late afternoon did little to whittle away numbers or dampen spirits and performers and onlookers continued singing, clapping and dancing as the grounds became flooded and the overhead tenting collapsed from the intensity of the rains.

Fear is an odd sensation...once the body perceives danger, fear begins to catalyze - first in the toes where it exudes an almost imperceptible warmth, then in an instant it rushes into every pore with its tingling, numbing, sweat-inducing presence. Libby Abbott and I had a brief moment where a situation of danger spawned such a sensation of fear when we were out for dinner in Butwal with a few girls from Radio Jagaran. As we were waiting for dinner, we suddenly heard a loud bang. Everyone in the restaurant looked around nervously. I noticed that people outside of the restaurant were running away from it. Someone rushed into the building and yelled “get out, get out!” The slight sensation of fear that had been resting inert in my toes since the initial bang washed over my body as we jumped out of our chairs and raced towards the door. My most immediate thought was that it was a bomb. We looked out the front door to see escalating commotion and came to discover that it was not a bomb, but a gas leak in the tandoori oven which had caused an explosion in the kitchen. The explosion occurred outside the front door, and the only thing we could do was to run further inside to the back of the building. We started to look for a way out only to realize that we were trapped. In the brief moment before we knew whether or not we were safe and we anticipated the possibility of another explosion, fear embraced us with its heavy black tendrils and we stood motionless, unsure of how to proceed. After a few moments, we discerned that it was safe enough to leave, so we shed our feelings of helplessness and darted out the front door.

In the big scheme of things, this was a fairly minor incident - no one was seriously injured and we left unscathed. However, in speaking with my companions, each one had expressed that they had initially thought that the explosion was a bomb. Uma said that it sounded exactly like the first night the Maoists entered her hometown during the People’s War. She recounted the moment the Maoists entered Palpa - 11:15 p.m. - when a bomb exploded just outside of her family’s home. Deepa then recalled a time when, during the conflict, she was working with SPW - an INGO - in a remote village and a landmine exploded. Nundu said that she remembers bombs exploding in distant skies, but didn’t witness any explosions. Fear spawned by violence or war is something I have been fortunate enough not to have experienced. It was sobering to hear stories of fear from people who lived through war and who felt the kind of fear only war can invoke. These stories of war that Libby and I heard today were inspired by a completely random occurrence.

It wasn’t the first time today that we had unexpectedly stumbled upon personal accounts of the atrocities and fears perpetrated by war. Earlier in the day, Libby was interviewing Dinesh Harijan, a journalist at Radio Jagaran, about his position as a village health worker for her work on Uterine Prolapse. Libby was conducting the interview in Hindi, but translated for me as the story spun into a tale about the types of discrimination he and his family have faced as a result of being Dalit. From accounts of being denied access to education, working with dead animals in the traditional work of Harijans, and fleeing abusive landowners, a complex and genuine story of Nepal was woven.

With Libby's assistance,I decided to interview Dinesh about this story for his Radio Jagaran profile. In this interview, Dinesh mentioned in passing that both he and his father were kidnapped by Maoists during the war and forced to work as soldiers for the Maoist insurgency. I was extremely surprised by this information given that I have spoken with Dinesh countless times and he had not previously mentioned this. As he described the extraordinary circumstances he and his family have faced, I decided that it would be better told by him and his father and captured on video than recast by me. Libby and I have planned to film an interview with Dinesh and his father tomorrow. Hopefully the story will retain all of the emotion, pathos and humanity that it held as it was told to us today.

The English word “caste” is derived from the Portuguese “casta” meaning birth or difference. Caste generally encompasses all of the activities of life - duties, rights, occupations, fates - which are fixed on the basis of heredity. Unlike the term “race”, caste does not utilize genetics as the basis for difference and discrimination; caste differentiation is based solely on historical constructions. The most prominent and enduring outcome of the history of caste-based social structure is the legacy of untouchability. In this tradition, hereditary is written on skin, and hands imprudently placed cause torture, death and war.

Within the caste system of both India and Nepal, the lowest castes - the untouchables - are called Dalit. The word Dalit comes from the Sanskrit ‘dal’ meaning to break into pieces, to shatter. The history of caste-based social order in Nepal is complicated and confusing. Suffice it to say that untouchability customs have prevented Dalits from entering temples and hotels, marrying outside of caste, sitting in or near the home of someone from an upper caste, sharing food and water, and attending public spaces including educational and medical facilities. Historically, transgression brought severe consequences that were legally and politically sanctioned, including banishment, imprisonment, and death for the Dalit. Punishment was also severe for an upper caste person who willingly broke rules of untouchability and often resulted in a loss of caste and demotion to Dalit. Traditionally, the only way to overcome being a Dalit was to live a life that observed all caste-based regulations with the hope that karmic forces would enable rebirth into a higher caste.

I recently went with three journalists from Radio Jagaran to a village in Rupandehi district where they were covering a meeting regarding a Dalit discrimination case. In the village of Sikhtahan, a Dalit man who farms the land of a Brahmin landowner was accused of breaking the custom of untouchability. According to Hindu customs that observe caste stratification, an animal owned by a Dalit or “untouchable” is also untouchable. In this case, the Dalit man owns a pig that grazes on his share of the land. Traditionally pigs are only owned by so-called lower castes as higher caste people believe them to be filthy animals. Allegedly the pig, unaware of the regulations governing caste decorum, touched its snout to metal dishes belonging to the Brahmin landowner. This rendered the dishes permanently tainted and therefore unusable. The landowner demanded compensation from the Dalit for the dishes and indicated that the man would suffer severe consequences if he didn’t pay to buy new ones. However, the history of caste division has ensured that Dalits are the poorest people in Nepal, a fact which continues to hold true, even in this current age of “equal rights”.

Uma from the JMC regional office in Butwal commented that it would have been better if many journalists from the station went to the meeting so that the issue could be covered by many different programs. However, the village is in a remote area that cannot be reached by public transport and Radio Jagaran could only find two people who were able to take us on motorbike. So, it was only Madan, Deepa, Dinseh, and myself that were able to go. The village is located approximately 25 km from Butwal, but it took us an hour and a half to get there on the monsoon-washed gravel roads that snake throughout the Terai. We drove past a number of dusty towns, villages etched with red clay houses and thatched roofs, and vast stretches of farmland textured by varying shades of green before we reached Sikhtahan. We arrived to find the Dalit man and the alleged dishes surrounded by journalists, the Brahmin landowner, as well as numerous other people representing one or the other side. The meeting was called to attempt some type of peaceful resolution which would hopefully result in the landowner relinquishing his demand for payment. After an hour, the Brahmins refused to answer any more questions, issued threats to the Dalit man, and left on their bicycles. The journalists, who had hoped there could be some kind of resolve, subsequently left. On the way back to Butwal, they expressed concern that harm would come to the Dalit man at the weekly bazaar. They felt helpless to intervene, “even the police cannot help; they are friends of the Brahmins. what can we do?” they asked.

This is clearly a story that expresses the continued existence of blatant caste-based discrimination. Most areas outside of major cities are still highly segregated according to caste. Untouchability is commonplace and Dalits are forbidden from entering temples, holding positions in public offices, collecting water from communal taps, and entering the residences of non-Dalits. Breaking taboos of untouchability carries severe consequences including rape, beating, and lynching of Dalits. Jagaran Media Center and Radio Jagaran place great importance on illustrating and evidencing a society that, in the spaces between lofty declarations of equality and promises of social inclusion and political representation, remains highly stratified along lines of gender, ethnicity, and caste.

Butwal is a particularly interesting place to reside because it rests at the precise junction where the hills meet the plains; where the Himalayan region fades into the Terai. For generations, the Terai area was geographically separated from the rest of Nepal. As a result, the pattern of development and migration in this region took a different course than most other areas. Historically, it was a place where people from North India and displaced ethnic groups from other parts of Nepal migrated to in search of land. The Terai boasts great ethnic and linguistic diversity, but is at the same time a place where ethnic, political, and religious tension is kept precariously in check. Someone I met who works for the Red Cross described the Terai as a place where caste discrimination has been the most effective. According to some accounts, it is the place where caste discrimination in Nepal began.

Although the New Nepal is currently in a state of peace and reconciliation, the instability of the Terai remains a cause for great concern. The Maoists abandoned the Terai, the center of the conflict, more than two years ago leaving behind mass suffering and wide-scale poverty, isolation, and displacement on the part of the victims. It was less than two years ago, and months after the Maoists abandoned their “People’s War” that a violent uprising in the Terai resulted in more than 300 deaths. Recently, the activities of the Constituent Assembly, who is in the process of drafting a new constitution for Nepal, were completely halted because leaders representing the Mahdesis, one of the region’s most agitated ethnic groups, are demanding a separate, autonomous state.

Journalists in this area face greater risks than in other areas - victims of persecution, torture and imprisonment by the Maoists during the conflict, they continue to receive threats and pressure to produce stories that are one-sided and typically have partisan aims. Nepal, and the Terai in particular, is still a fair distance away from upholding principles of freedom of expression and the right to information.

Journalists in the Terai are, at one and the same time, faced with great opportunity to draw on the rich diversity that defines it, and great responsibility to help ensure that the tightrope that holds the region, and the nation, together is kept taut. If the Terai falls, a Nepal that is currently hopeful but uncertain of itself as it moves forth with unsteady legs, will come crashing down with it.

The second day of the workshop at Radio Jargaran proved to be as rewarding as the first. I was the only presenter and the focus of my session was community radio principles and producing feature documentaries. In Nepal, the principles that define community radio are not very clear and the boundaries between community radio (CR) and commercial radio are often blurry and at times virtually indistinguishable. Moreover, there are so many CR stations that they are usually in competition with one another for listenership. For instance, radio Lumbini is less that 10 km away from Radio Jagaran, has very similar issue-based programs, covers the same reach, and has the same target audience. So, the question was raised, how can Radio Jagaran produce programs that are different from other stations. My response to this was that, unfortunately, one station has no control over what another station broadcasts. The only thing to do is to make programs that are innovative, interesting and relevant and that attempt to find angles of stories that are overlooked by other media. I described the film documentary “The Six O’Clock News”, produced by Ross McElwee ,to illustrate this point. McElwee,committed to the principle that there are numerous sides to every story and frustrated with the fact that every station in the U.S. nonetheless broadcasts the same stories every night on the 6 o’clock news, decided to make a film where he discovered the stories that were not being told. He would identify people who were in the background of an event, travel across the country to find them, and tell the same news story from their perspectives. This notion of telling the untold stories also reminds me of the play, “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead” written by Tom Stoppard, which tells the story of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of two of its minor characters.

In the current climate of media in Nepal where community radio stations are ubiquitous, the question to ask is, what are the stories that are not getting told?

In terms of ensuring that high quality CR is being produced, I also explained that regular evaluation of all programs according to international standards and principles of CR should occur monthly. Programs should be evaluated according to the following mandates:

-Is it truly participatory, i.e. produced by the community for the community?
-Is it interactive? What methods are being used to engage the community in an ongoing dialogue with the programs?
-How many groups are being represented?
-Has it made a difference in the lives of people in a community or in the life of one person?
-Is the program receiving listener feedback? by who and in what ways?

The second part of my session focused on producing feature documentaries. From what I can tell, this is a format that is not readily used by the program producers at Radio Jagaran. The primary model of shows appears to follow a report-based format comprised of an introduction, one or two interviews or vox-pops, and a brief editorial about the issue by the presenter. Although this type of radio certainly has its place, it is often not overly interesting to listen to and does not effectively engage listeners. I encouraged the producers to think about ways they can incorporate feature documentaries, which use more of a story-telling format, are issue-focused rather than event focused, and follow a topic over a longer period of time. I gave the example of inter-caste marriage. A report based program would take a current instance of inter-caste marriage, identify the major players, and interview those who are involved in the case. A feature documentary, on the other hand, may address the same issue by telling the story of inter-caste marriage over three generations and profile a number of people who at one time or another transgressed caste-based marital codes of conduct.

Many of the program producers are very interested in feature documentaries and have asked if I would help them figure out ways to incorporate this format into their shows. I think that the staff at Radio Jagaran, an enthusiastic and talented group of individuals, possess the ability and the drive to produce exemplary radio, and could become a model of CR if they begin to expand their conception of what a radio show is comprised of and explore new ways to tell the otherwise untold stories.

Radio Jagaran is currently conducting a 4-day workshop about principles of radio production. The first day was scheduled to be an introduction to the workshop, a session conducted by me on advocacy journalism as well as a belated welcome ceremony for me. The welcome ceremony was in the style of typical Nepali hospitality - genuine and giving. All staff members introduced themselves and all of the senior staff gave speeches. Many of the staff members welcomed me personally by bringing bright red rhododendron flowers and leaving them at my feet.

The first session I conducted was on advocacy journalism. As has been the case with all sessions that I have conducted so far in Nepal, I learned a great deal from the participants. In discussing principles of good advocacy journalism, comments and questions regarding the state of journalism in Nepal and issues of social impact monitoring and evaluation were raised. How can the effect of radio campaigns that have social justice missions be evaluated? If the radio broadcasts a particular campaign and no discernible change occurs in the community, does that mean that the program failed to achieve its mission? The general notion among the staff at Radio Jagaran appears to be that failures to achieve demonstrable effects are the result of poor quality journalism and radio production. This may be true to some extent; I know that I certainly have some suggestions with regard to journalistic techniques and program production, especially in terms of variability of formats. However, i think part of the problem in measuring impact has to do with the way that success is conceived of. If a particular change is not brought about in a community within a relatively short time-span, does this indicate failure? At the workshop, I expressed that community radio (CR) is notoriously difficult to monitor in terms of its social impact. According to mandates of CR that have a social justice mission, the goal is usually empowerment...but how can you determine that someone has become empowered?

I expressed that CR itself does not cause change...people cause change. CR serves as a catalyst, a force to mobilize people in a community to enact change. This conversation brought the film “Sometimes in April” to mind, which is a film about the role hate radio played in the Rwandan genocide. As part of post-conflict truth and reconciliation in Rwanda, the journalists involved in propagating hate radio were tried for crimes against humanity due to the role the radio played in inspiring people towards violent action. After watching the film, a friend and I discussed how it is possible for people to become so influenced by media. In the context of this discussion, we raised the notion that media enables people to see their own views reflected in the mass. Although in the case of Rwanda, the impact of radio in this regard led to horrendous outcomes, the principle of the power of radio holds true for groups attempting to achieve some form of social justice. As people begin to see their own views shared by others, a mass consciousness and common mission is formed and strengthened. In this way, CR can be seen as a catalyst for change. So, perhaps the criteria for success needs to focus on the extent to which a CR program is able to inspire discussion and debate and encourage participation in decision-making among members of a community.

Dinesh Harijan, a human rights journalist at Radio Jagaran, asked me to write a story about visiting his village.

His family lives in a poor, rural community where severe social exclusion and discrimination are commonplace. As we headed out to his village, Dinesh explained to me that village districts are structured in such a way that higher castes live near the village center where the amenities are and span outward in descending caste-based order. Upon hearing this, I was reminded of Dante’s Inferno where those who have committed slight crimes live in the upper more comfortable circles of hell. The circles spiral downward in descending order according to the severity of the crime committed and those in the lowest circle face the most severe conditions in the afterlife. The crucial difference is that caste is not based on any scales of righteousness or morality. It is based on birth and birth alone. People cannot change the card that is dealt them; born a Dalit, a Brahmin, a Chetri, or a Janjati, one remains so for life.

Dalit people, considered to be untouchable according to the caste-based system, live farthest away from the center, and therefore are farthest away from water taps, telephones, health centers, schools, and roads. Families live in single mud and thatch rooms. There is no electricity or running water. Outhouses are luxuries that most families in this area cannot afford to have. Temperatures average more than 40 degrees celsius during the summer months and monsoon rains wash away the gravel roads that connect remote areas to village district centers.

Within the caste system, there are also hierarchical divisions within each caste. Traditionally, caste groups designated the type of work that people within the caste would be required to perform. Dinesh’s family are Harijan Dalits, considered to be the lowest group within the Dalit caste. Historically, Harijans worked in animal hides and leather preparation. Although this system of labour designation is largely outdated in Nepal, the remnants of this system still exist. Harijan Dalits are among the poorest, least educated, and most severely marginalized people in Nepal.

This is not yet a story about visiting Dinesh’s family. It is difficult to write about poverty and discrimination in a way that gives due weight and respect to those who suffer from inequity without sensationalizing hardship. One of the most difficult things about writing of such experiences is overcoming the feeling of guilt that accompanies the knowledge that my life has always been and will likely always be more comfortable than theirs. Suffice it to say that I was annoyed at myself for noticing the discomfort I experienced as a result of the heat, rain and mud we walked though to get to the village. I was overwhelmed by the warmth and generosity of Dinesh’s family - his father speaking to me using the English phrases Dinesh has taught him and patiently waiting for me to fumble through a few Nepali ones, his mother insisting on preparing chia and traditional sweets, the entire family humouring my requests to take photographs. I was impressed that all of the children in the family were given opportunities for higher level education and that Dinesh’s father, the village health worker, is a local expert in female reproductive health. I was surprised that the landscape, defined by flooded rice paddies dotted with the brightly coloured textiles of women harvesting, was extraordinarily beautiful to see once the rain had stopped.

In a country where the vast majority of people live in extreme poverty without access to running water, electricity, or adequate food or shelter, the state of journalism may seem inconsequential. However, Nepal is also a country that has suffered from wide-scale political corruption, social inequity and human rights abuses. Journalists play a critical role in ensuring that people have access to the information required for them to understand the ways decisions made at national levels impact their livelihoods and in enabling them to have their voices heard. Yet, in Nepal’s transition to peace and democracy, journalists have faced many challenges.

After the Royal Takeover in Nepal in 2005, the former King Gyandendra clamped down on the free press by censoring all media and imprisoning journalists who criticized the monarchy. The army shut down community FM radio stations and newspapers ran editorials about the weather rather than risk unintentionally publishing opinions that could be construed as derogatory. On Feb 2., 2005, a blog called Radio Free Nepal posted, “Communications are still cut off. And the future of our country, people, and our journalistic career look glum.”

After a popular uprising in 2006, the government annulled all restrictions on press freedoms. An interim constitution was drafted that guaranteed freedom of the press. However, this did little to relieve the difficulties journalists faced in Nepal as they became the targets of ethnic clashes and Maoist insurgents.

Since 2006, when the Maoists abandoned their People’s War, considered to be one of the most brutal Asian conflicts in modern history, Nepal has undergone political upheaval. Just this year the 200-year old monarchy was abolished in favour of a Federal Republic. Nepal, in its emerging state of peace and democracy, is flawed, uncertain of itself, and faces serious challenges in overcoming the residue of its conflict. Journalists are a critical cog in the peace process in postconflict Nepal. However, state-run press and broadcasting organizations are little more than mouth-pieces for major political parties, and many commercial media organizations also have political affiliations leaving principles of fair and balanced journalism suspect. As a result, a great deal of reliable news reporting in print and broadcast media falls on grassroots journalism.

Grassroots journalism in Nepal has been lauded for its role in peace-building in recent years. Independent newspapers and community-based FM broadcasters are widely credited for bringing Maoist rebels into negotiation with the state and for demanding free speech despite threats, imprisonment, and abuse perpetrated by Maoist rebels and the royal government. Now, in the postconflict climate, journalists face new challenges. The war has left a country marred by mass suffering, displacement, and ethnic agitations in its wake.

Currently, press coverage of issues related to truth and reconciliation, compensation and war reparations is scant. A great deal of journalism at public, private, and grassroots levels is steeped in partisan ideologies and is defined by inaccuracies, exaggerations, and conflicts of interest. Journalists continue to suffer from lack of resources, political pressure, news manipulation, and threats from special interest groups.

For more information on journalism in Nepal, visit BBC News.

Shubha Bala and Heather Gilberds:

We recently met someone who is working in transitional justice, specifically the issue of disappeared persons, in post-war Nepal. Knowing very little about the conflict between the government and the Maoist Communist Party of Nepal (CPN-M), we were quickly drawn into the story of a country that is still very much living amongst the specters of its history. With the hope of gaining a small insight into the very real ghosts that Nepal is currently grappling with, we have together decided to examine the issue of disappeared persons more closely. In conducting preliminary research and speaking with a few people who are involved in the issue, we are coming to discover a confusing, poorly documented, tangled mess of something called “transitional justice” and “compensation” with respect to those whose lives were irreparably altered by the actions of two parties vying for control of the Himalayan Kingdom.

Although a great deal of international press coverage during the war focused on the inhumane, guerilla tactics of the PLA, on a quantitative scale, the estimated 3,000 murders perpetrated by the Maoists during this period were low compared to the 11,000 that are attributable to the Monarch. More than 1200 Nepalis are still missing as a result of the decades long state-Maoist conflict. Contrary to popular belief within the international community, it is estimated that 85% of people who disappeared were kidnapped by the state, and that only 15% of disappearances were perpetrated by Maoists.

Many of the missing persons were not politically affiliated. Those who were politically involved were CPN-M members and supporters from rural districts. Most were not involved with the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) - the Maoist rebel groups who perpetrated wide-spread violence throughout the country between 1996 and 2006 - but were peaceful supporters who disseminated the ideals and philosophies of the party to the villages. Many came from ethnic and cultural groups who are traditionally marginalized by the history of caste hierarchy and feudalism in Nepal. As such, the communist philosophy of the Maoists, which spoke of egalitarianism, the rise of the oppressed, and the end of caste-based social hierarchy, offered them hope and idealism for a life free from the severe disadvantage they faced under monarchical rule. Enforced disappearances are cases in which people were taken into custody by one or the other side of the conflict. The fate of these individuals has never been discerned as authorities denied all knowledge of their whereabouts. There are at least 1200 people on the disappeared persons list in Nepal. Although this number is based on a conversation we had with someone who is working on disappeared persons cases but prefers to remain unnamed, there is a great deal of discrepancy over the number of people who disappeared during the government’s war with Maoist insurgents. Human Rights Watch puts the number much higher than 1200 and attributes the lower numbers found in many reports to the obstacles faced in getting accurate information from remote villages. Nepal’s challenging terrain, coupled with inexperienced human rights organizations working in the early stages of the conflict, and a caste-based system that excludes people from social forums, have led many to believe that cases of disappearances are significantly under-reported in Nepal.

In trying to bring to light the Nepali government’s counterinsurgency actions during the war and challenge the common perception that the majority of civilian abuses were carried out by the Maoists, it is nonetheless important to give due condemnation with regards to the Maoists’ actions. If Maoist-issued disappearances rank far less than government ones, it is, in part, due to the fact that the Maoists publicly tortured and executed many of their captives, forcing family members and friends to witness it. As such, there was no need to cover up civilian killings.

Clearly no one side holds the moral scepter in Nepal’s “People’s War”. The lack of awareness about the Nepali government’s abhorrent human rights record during the war on the part of the international community as well as the lack of governmental retribution and compensation for the victims’ families in the post-war climate are wrongs that need to be rectified for a ‘Naya Nepal’ to emerge from the ashes of its history. With the abolishment of the monarchy and the shift to a federal republic, Nepal is currently in a state of political reform. Previously disadvantaged groups are lobbying for an end to social marginalization and political exclusion. Many people are seeking retribution and transitional justice for losses suffered during the war. However, in this age of political upheaval where many previously unheard voices are shouting for their rights, the government is content to bury the mistakes of the past and look towards the future. Yet,the families of the disappeared persons cannot forget the errors of the past. As citizens, the wives and children of these victims are living in extreme poverty. As Hindus, they are unable to perform final rights without a body. As individuals, they want to know if their family members are dead or alive and they seek closure.

Shubha Bala and Heather Gilberds will be posting a series of blogs on the issue of transitional justice and disappeared persons in Nepal. Shubha plans to interview families of the victims, government officials, and NGO workers to bring to light the government's lack of response and compensation towards them. Heather hopes to explore issues of caste hierarchy and social marginalization and how these factors related to CPN-M membership and subsequent human rights abuses. She will also examine the role of journalists and the challenges they faced in reporting the abuses perpetrated by the government army during the conflict as well as the difficulties they continue to confront in post-conflict Nepal.

Jagaran Media Center Hosts Radio Training Workshop

Last week, twenty Dalit journalists from across Nepal traveled to Kathmandu to attend a 5-day radio training workshop hosted by JMC. The journalists, who came from a wide variety of FM stations from across the country, are involved in producing news programs that aim to lobby for the inclusion of marginalized groups in spheres related to media, policy-making, and cultural representation. On the roster to present were some of the most prominent Dalit activists, journalists, and radio producers in the country, including Ahuti, a near-legendary Dalit poet and activist, the president of the Nepal Journalism Federation, and Ragu Mainali, a renowned radio scholar and member of the South Asian branch of AMARC. I was also on the agenda to present and ran a three-hour session on advocacy journalism and the power of grassroots media. I was surprised to find that most of the participants were women, which speaks more about my own bias than anything.

It was unfortunate that all of the sessions other than mine were in Nepali and that I was unable to understand them. I could tell from the reactions of the participants that the lectures were absolutely fascinating. They ranged from the history of caste discrimination, to human rights reporting, to radio journalism techniques. I required a translator for my session which unfortunately left me out of most of the discussions that were spawned. One discussion that was translated for me arose out of the notion of fair and balanced reporting. I was lecturing about advocacy journalism and discussing that it is different than ordinary reporting in that journalists explicitly locate themselves on one side of an issue, but that they, nonetheless, should strive for balanced reporting by still presenting both sides. One of the participants raised the question of how it is possible to present the other side when people from that perspective refuse to be interviewed. For example, a Dalit journalist reporting on a human rights abuse against a member of the Dalit community may have a difficult time interviewing non-Dalits about the incident, even those who were not involved in it. Many people, especially in the villages, refuse to speak with Dalit journalists. Last month the JMC ebulletin reported about an incident wherein a Dalit family’s home was set on fire after members from the village discovered an inter-caste marriage had occurred. Dalit journalists tried to follow up on this story, but non-Dalits from the village refused to speak with them.

Participants also raised another complication that journalists confront when reporting about communities that face social exclusion. Often Dalits themselves refuse to be interviewed. Some would rather remain silent because they fear further persecution and discrimination if they speak out. Also, some are ashamed of being Dalit and do not want to identify themselves as such. I thought this second point was particularly interesting because it expresses the way that marginalization, racism, and discrimination can become internalized by members of a community whereby these forces no longer emanate from an external force but have become a part of an individual’s own self-definition.

Given the language barrier, I am unable to tell whether or not the journalists benefitted from the session that I led. However, a session that was scheduled for two hours ended up being four, so at the very least, it stimulated a great deal of discussion and debate. I definitely felt enriched by having the opportunity to meet journalists involved in grassroots radio in Nepal and learned a great deal about the challenges they face, specifically with regards to the issue of caste.

The staff at Jagaran Media Center had hoped 600 people would attend, but more than 1200 attendees filled the seats of the auditorium at the premier of Dalan, a 52-part fictional television series that depicts the trials faced by three generations of a Dalit family. The audience was comprised of young and old, Dalits and non-Dalits, journalists, political figures, and members of the international community. The large turnout is an indication that groups lobbying for Dalit rights are getting their voices heard. However, the struggle is far from over. Although in major urban centers like Kathmandu, there is visible progress in the fight for equal rights and social inclusion for Dalits, this is not the case throughout Nepal. In smaller cities and villages, Dalits are still discriminated against and they remain marginalized in political, cultural, and economic spheres. The Jagaran Media Center views mass media as crucial sites of resistance to Dalit discrimination and uses a variety of mediums to create forums for the previously unheard voices of the Dalit community. Dalan is one of many media endeavours Jagaran Media Center has created to lobby for Dalit rights at political, social, and cultural levels.

Listen to my podcast about Dalan

Kathmandu is frenetic. It is a labyrinthine tangle of roads and alleys brimming with cuisine tailored to every palate, oddly situated temples, and a vast array of modes of transport - everything from long processions of pedestrians, dogs, and cows to unpredictable, kaledioscopic arrangements of motorcycles, rickshaws, bicycles, trucks, and taxis - all moving in a continuous stream with no discernible vehicular order. The city is a mash-up of what Nepal remembers itself to be - shy, modest, spiritually imbued - and changing values brought upon by the decades old influx of tourists hoping to experience something entirely new without sacrificing the comforts of home. For a traveler experiencing it for the first time, this mash-up quality adorns Kathmandu with ironies that add a hectic quirkiness to its charm while at the same time creating an exhausting and draining kind of sensory overload. Around Kathmandu, irony hangs inertly in the air - a thick concoction of incense, black smog, and Himalayan mist - where it begs the question: What are the stakes of selling bronze castes of Siddhartha’s head? Such questions hide in the shadows like specters around the frenzied backpacker district of Thamel where shops selling prayer rugs and books about Tibetan Buddhism run parallel with dance clubs that have billboards depicting scantily clad western women advertising “dance showers”.

I have spent two days at the Jagaran Media Center in Kathmandu and will be here for the next two weeks before heading to Butwal. The staff are very concerned about where I should be during my time at the office and I am often shuffled from one place to another. I think they have settled on a corner of the radio news room, a very small office that I share with eight members of the radio team. So far, the staff in this room are slightly unsure of me and they smile and nod when we make eye contact and, like unsure animals testing the ground for divots, we are wary of approaching one another. The production studio is basic but well-suited to the type of radio Jagaran endeavours to produce. Currently the recording studio is empty; from what I can understand, the equipment is not working and has been sent somewhere for repairs.

My interaction with the staff at the Jagaran Media Center has been overwhelmingly positive. The center’s assistant manager, Prakash Mohara, is everything he was made out to be by AP’s interns last year who speak of him with great admiration. He is talented, energetic, and giving. The other managers and directors are similarly so and stress that they see us less as interns and more as part of a worldwide family dedicated to combatting human rights injustices. They view media as a fundamental tool of this vision, as a way of not only being heard and disseminating information but also as a force that can articulate a new way of understanding between those who are oppressed and those who oppress.

I have a friend who recently told me about "Schrodinger's Cat"...a thought exercise developed by Erwin Schrodinger in1935. Using theories of quantum mechanics which I will not even pretend to understand nor extrapolate upon here, Schrodinger proposed a theoretical experiment wherein a cat is placed in a sealed box with a vial of lethal acid. If the vial breaks, the cat will be killed, but if the vial does not break, the cat will remain alive. The observer, who cannot see inside the box, does not know if the vial has been broken and, consequently, whether the cat is dead or alive. According to Schrodinger, the cat is both dead and alive at the same time until the box is opened and the fate of the cat is determined.

You may wonder what thoughts about quantum mechanics and cats in boxes have to do with preparing to embark on a 3-month long peace fellowship in Nepal. My friend, in a very sage-like manner, described the paradox of Schrodinger's cat to me to explain the way she tries to resist the impulse to contemplate the possible outcomes of events in her life that have not yet happened. As much as we may try to predict the nature of future events, we cannot know what it will be until they actually happen. As much as my mind is spinning with all of the what-ifs that I may encounter in Nepal, I am continually reminding myself of this. The best I can do to prepare for my upcoming travel is to arrive armed with a video camera and capture the moments when what-ifs evaporate into events that unfold in entirely unexpected ways and confound all speculation.

If you are interested in witnessing moments when circumstances baffle my greatest expectations, be sure to watch for upcoming videos and podcasts