I am writing in response to Sumit Sharma Sameers’ article, ‘The Expat Discourse’, published in the Kathmandu Post on Thursday 16th February 11. This article raised some interesting questions about the role of expats in the management of NGO’s in Nepal. I welcome this debate as I think it is much needed. Whilst expat workers in NGO’s usually get paid at an international rate, rather than local salary it could be assumed that their motivations for working for a Nepali NGO is partly financially motivated, I would agree that this is an area that needs to be scrutinised. However if you are going to question the expat motivation for working for NGO, it would only be fair to question that of Nepali’s aswell. Could all NGO job vacancies be paid at a local rate? If there are Nepali’s that have the expertise in NGO management, then they should be employed and if they don’t have the expertise, then this issue also needs to be addressed. In terms of sustainability of NGO projects, if local people are employed to develop and deliver projects then the knowledge and skills gained will stay local and the local economy will benefit from the employment. But if expat workers are employed for a specific period of time, they will take the skills and potentially some of their income will not be spent locally. However the expertise that they bring could be invaluable to the development of Nepal and have multiple benefits including economic.
There is in fact another aspect to add to this debate, which is the role of expat volunteers in the management of NGO’s and other development aspects, such as education. There are many expat volunteers from developed and developing countries volunteering throughout Nepal with organisations like Voluntary Services Overseas. The motivation of volunteers is quite different from expat NGO workers, as volunteers want to share their skills whilst volunteering with NGO’s in a shared process of learning and respect. Volunteers are not motivated by financial benefits, otherwise they would not be here and receive only a small living allowance. Volunteers also undergo Nepali cultural orientation and language training, which means they are more able integrate into the community and cannot afford a luxurious lifestyle . Volunteers also bring impartiality and a different way of thinking which can be effective in improving the development and management of NGO’s and their ability to deliver effective development within the country.
Expats workers and volunteers both offer objectivity when dealing with the administration of funds to other NGO’s, I have heard from many Nepali NGO workers that Nepali led NGO’s often favour their friends and families when it comes to funding applications, which of course is not the best way of administering funds. And then there is matter of Nepali time, as time moves slowly in Nepal and a meeting arranged at 10:00 may not happen to till 13:00, if at all. The presence of expats can surely only encourage a more efficient work ethic. I am not suggesting that Nepali’s adopt the rat race lifestyle of western countries, which needs to change, just a more efficient method of working, then surely all Nepali’s could have Sunday off too!
Lula Belinfante
VSO Volunteer, UK
Holi Festival of colour
Sunday 20 February 2011
Saturday 12 February 2011
Stars in my eyes
As I set off across the field in the dark with my friend Tika, I hoped that I would not step into one of the many types of faeces available as I was wearing my evening best. Tonight I was going to a ‘Cultural Programme’ fundraiser aka a show. We safely reached the dusty road, dress and shoes intact and jumped on a rickshaw and headed to the hotel where the programme was being held. Tonight was the VIP night and I had somehow managed to gain free entry as I was on the NGO committee, I have to confess that I done very little work to deserve this luxury, because of language barriers.
As we took our seats with the other organisers who also got in for free and the VIP’s who didn’t, I listened to the usual waffle getting a general sense of what was being said, the performances began. The singing was excellent, I have to say Nepali music is beautiful. After sitting restlessly thinking about whether they had bar, I decided that I would join the random man in the aisle for a dance to liven things up. What I had failed to forget is that Nepali’s go ape shit when I dance, particularly in a red sequin sari and everyone cheered. Before I knew it I was being dragged on to the stage, literally and forced to dance I could of died, but I didn’t, I managed to hold it together and a random man from the audience joined me. One song later I exited the stage and bagged myself front row comfy seat for a few songs, whilst I tried to steady myself and straighten my sari.
After a few more acts I made a sharp exit and headed for the buffet, with a drink also in mind. In the UK most people would be drunk by now, but here very few people drink at all, particularly the people I know. This is because of the culture, religion and cost. I necked my food as quickly as possible and headed to the bar for a whisky, this is a safe option because; 1) it can be drunk quickly 2) limits the amount of toilet trips 3) usually cheaper than beer or wine 4) its usually double or tipple the size of shots in the UK.
I went back and seated myself with my friends and had no sooner sat than one of the presenters I had met outside ushered me onto the stage to dance...here we go again. This time I was a lot more at ease though. The singer on stage starting singing about me and the whole audience cheered, god knows what he said, but I think it was good. After what felt an eternity I left the stage and this time I went back stage, which was actually just a curtain to the side of the stage and I met all of the heroes. In Nepal anyone famous is called a hero, it was funny because actually I didn’t know any of them so their fame status was lost on me, but it was fun anyway.
As we took our seats with the other organisers who also got in for free and the VIP’s who didn’t, I listened to the usual waffle getting a general sense of what was being said, the performances began. The singing was excellent, I have to say Nepali music is beautiful. After sitting restlessly thinking about whether they had bar, I decided that I would join the random man in the aisle for a dance to liven things up. What I had failed to forget is that Nepali’s go ape shit when I dance, particularly in a red sequin sari and everyone cheered. Before I knew it I was being dragged on to the stage, literally and forced to dance I could of died, but I didn’t, I managed to hold it together and a random man from the audience joined me. One song later I exited the stage and bagged myself front row comfy seat for a few songs, whilst I tried to steady myself and straighten my sari.
After a few more acts I made a sharp exit and headed for the buffet, with a drink also in mind. In the UK most people would be drunk by now, but here very few people drink at all, particularly the people I know. This is because of the culture, religion and cost. I necked my food as quickly as possible and headed to the bar for a whisky, this is a safe option because; 1) it can be drunk quickly 2) limits the amount of toilet trips 3) usually cheaper than beer or wine 4) its usually double or tipple the size of shots in the UK.
I went back and seated myself with my friends and had no sooner sat than one of the presenters I had met outside ushered me onto the stage to dance...here we go again. This time I was a lot more at ease though. The singer on stage starting singing about me and the whole audience cheered, god knows what he said, but I think it was good. After what felt an eternity I left the stage and this time I went back stage, which was actually just a curtain to the side of the stage and I met all of the heroes. In Nepal anyone famous is called a hero, it was funny because actually I didn’t know any of them so their fame status was lost on me, but it was fun anyway.
Stars in my eyues
As I set off across the field in the dark with my friend Tika, I hoped that I would not step into one of the many types of faeces available as I was wearing my evening best. Tonight I was going to a ‘Cultural Programme’ fundraiser aka a show. We safely reached the dusty road, dress and shoes intact and jumped on a rickshaw and headed to the hotel where the programme was being held. Tonight was the VIP night and I had somehow managed to gain free entry as I was on the NGO committee, I have to confess that I done very little work to deserve this luxury, because of language barriers.
As we took our seats with the other organisers who also got in for free and the VIP’s who didn’t, I listened to the usual waffle getting a general sense of what was being said, the performances began. The singing was excellent, I have to say Nepali music is beautiful. After sitting restlessly thinking about whether they had bar, I decided that I would join the random man in the aisle for a dance to liven things up. What I had failed to forget is that Nepali’s go ape shit when I dance, particularly in a red sequin sari and everyone cheered. Before I knew it I was being dragged on to the stage, literally and forced to dance I could of died, but I didn’t, I managed to hold it together and a random man from the audience joined me. One song later I exited the stage and bagged myself front row comfy seat for a few songs, whilst I tried to steady myself and straighten my sari.
After a few more acts I made a sharp exit and headed for the buffet, with a drink also in mind. In the UK most people would be drunk by now, but here very few people drink at all, particularly the people I know. This is because of the culture, religion and cost. I necked my food as quickly as possible and headed to the bar for a whisky, this is a safe option because; 1) it can be drunk quickly 2) limits the amount of toilet trips 3) usually cheaper than beer or wine 4) its usually double or tipple the size of shots in the UK.
I went back and seated myself with my friends and had no sooner sat than one of the presenters I had met outside ushered me onto the stage to dance...here we go again. This time I was a lot more at ease though. The singer on stage starting singing about me and the whole audience cheered, god knows what he said, but I think it was good. After what felt an eternity I left the stage and this time I went back stage, which was actually just a curtain to the side of the stage and I met all of the heroes. In Nepal anyone famous is called a hero, it was funny because actually I didn’t know any of them so their fame status was lost on me, but it was fun anyway.
As we took our seats with the other organisers who also got in for free and the VIP’s who didn’t, I listened to the usual waffle getting a general sense of what was being said, the performances began. The singing was excellent, I have to say Nepali music is beautiful. After sitting restlessly thinking about whether they had bar, I decided that I would join the random man in the aisle for a dance to liven things up. What I had failed to forget is that Nepali’s go ape shit when I dance, particularly in a red sequin sari and everyone cheered. Before I knew it I was being dragged on to the stage, literally and forced to dance I could of died, but I didn’t, I managed to hold it together and a random man from the audience joined me. One song later I exited the stage and bagged myself front row comfy seat for a few songs, whilst I tried to steady myself and straighten my sari.
After a few more acts I made a sharp exit and headed for the buffet, with a drink also in mind. In the UK most people would be drunk by now, but here very few people drink at all, particularly the people I know. This is because of the culture, religion and cost. I necked my food as quickly as possible and headed to the bar for a whisky, this is a safe option because; 1) it can be drunk quickly 2) limits the amount of toilet trips 3) usually cheaper than beer or wine 4) its usually double or tipple the size of shots in the UK.
I went back and seated myself with my friends and had no sooner sat than one of the presenters I had met outside ushered me onto the stage to dance...here we go again. This time I was a lot more at ease though. The singer on stage starting singing about me and the whole audience cheered, god knows what he said, but I think it was good. After what felt an eternity I left the stage and this time I went back stage, which was actually just a curtain to the side of the stage and I met all of the heroes. In Nepal anyone famous is called a hero, it was funny because actually I didn’t know any of them so their fame status was lost on me, but it was fun anyway.
Wednesday 2 February 2011
Scene 1
As I walked round the corner towards my house with my friend Deepa, I was met with a worried looking Sita. In the background outside my gate I could see a crowd of armed police men and several random onlookers, my neighbours perhaps. Today I am moving house.
I had handed my notice in to my landlord or at least tried to over the last two weeks. My landlord lives in Kathmandu and speaks little English so a female Nepali VSO colleague had called him on numerous occasions to give him the required 1 months notice. The landlord he had dismissed this notice stating that I had to stay for another 6 months, it became obvious at this point I was dealing with a right dickwad.
Arriving on the scene I realised that the my landlord who will further be referred to as ‘dickwad’, had indeed turned up at the very moment I was due to flee my house and he had found a crowd of armed police and a police vehicle outside his tenants house. What he didn’t know at this point is that I am very good friends with the district chief of police and he had very kindly offered the help of his police and vehicle to help me move, oh the joys of being a female foreigner!
The battle commences
My heart starting pumping as I approached dickwad, who had clearly been hit by a bottle of just for men and the fugly stick. He told me that I couldn’t move as he couldn’t leave his house empty and that I had to stay there. What he didn’t realise is that there was no way I was staying another night in that house, I had mentally already unpacked in my new apartment and was enjoying some more of my landladies delicious daal baat tarkarri (curry, daal and rice). So I told him that I was moving today, it was my choice and my right. He said we will wait for Yam, my old teacher to arrive and then make a decision would be made. Obviously this was not the right thing to say to me as I had clearly already made decision for myself and did not need the assistance of a man to decide on my behalf, this dickwad was clearly not that keen on female decision makers.
Round 2
Meanwhile back at the ranch I call my friend the police chief and ask him to speak to dickwad via the phone telling him he is a prick, yes I had totally lost my cool. Turns out that they know each other. At this point dickwad is rubbing his hands, thinking that his friend the police chief will take his side for sure. The police disappear and there is a lull of activity in which neighbours discuss what is going on. I sit, meditate and shed a tear and my friends tell me they feel sad because I am sad. Then I feel ready for the next round.
The final show down
Some time later my friend the police chief arrives and the three of us are seated outside my house, with him in the middle. My friend asks me what the problem is and I explain, he utters some Nepali to dickwad and then says to me ‘ok you can move now’. I can hardly believe my ears. I find out later that his utterance to dickwad included ‘you cannot make her stay she made her decision to leave.’ He also offers to look after the house until the dickwad is able to come back to re-let it. The dickwad also says, ‘ok you can go’. At which point I want to say, ‘well I was going anyway you dickwad,’ but I keep my cool and say thanks. My friend then requests his police colleagues to transport my good and orders ‘total setup’ of my stuff.
Retreat
I retreat to my house and am greeted with sweet coffee, daal baat tarkaari and decline the offer of ‘total setup’, as I totally want to set up my own things.
The kindness of many over shadow the unkindness of the few.
As I walked round the corner towards my house with my friend Deepa, I was met with a worried looking Sita. In the background outside my gate I could see a crowd of armed police men and several random onlookers, my neighbours perhaps. Today I am moving house.
I had handed my notice in to my landlord or at least tried to over the last two weeks. My landlord lives in Kathmandu and speaks little English so a female Nepali VSO colleague had called him on numerous occasions to give him the required 1 months notice. The landlord he had dismissed this notice stating that I had to stay for another 6 months, it became obvious at this point I was dealing with a right dickwad.
Arriving on the scene I realised that the my landlord who will further be referred to as ‘dickwad’, had indeed turned up at the very moment I was due to flee my house and he had found a crowd of armed police and a police vehicle outside his tenants house. What he didn’t know at this point is that I am very good friends with the district chief of police and he had very kindly offered the help of his police and vehicle to help me move, oh the joys of being a female foreigner!
The battle commences
My heart starting pumping as I approached dickwad, who had clearly been hit by a bottle of just for men and the fugly stick. He told me that I couldn’t move as he couldn’t leave his house empty and that I had to stay there. What he didn’t realise is that there was no way I was staying another night in that house, I had mentally already unpacked in my new apartment and was enjoying some more of my landladies delicious daal baat tarkarri (curry, daal and rice). So I told him that I was moving today, it was my choice and my right. He said we will wait for Yam, my old teacher to arrive and then make a decision would be made. Obviously this was not the right thing to say to me as I had clearly already made decision for myself and did not need the assistance of a man to decide on my behalf, this dickwad was clearly not that keen on female decision makers.
Round 2
Meanwhile back at the ranch I call my friend the police chief and ask him to speak to dickwad via the phone telling him he is a prick, yes I had totally lost my cool. Turns out that they know each other. At this point dickwad is rubbing his hands, thinking that his friend the police chief will take his side for sure. The police disappear and there is a lull of activity in which neighbours discuss what is going on. I sit, meditate and shed a tear and my friends tell me they feel sad because I am sad. Then I feel ready for the next round.
The final show down
Some time later my friend the police chief arrives and the three of us are seated outside my house, with him in the middle. My friend asks me what the problem is and I explain, he utters some Nepali to dickwad and then says to me ‘ok you can move now’. I can hardly believe my ears. I find out later that his utterance to dickwad included ‘you cannot make her stay she made her decision to leave.’ He also offers to look after the house until the dickwad is able to come back to re-let it. The dickwad also says, ‘ok you can go’. At which point I want to say, ‘well I was going anyway you dickwad,’ but I keep my cool and say thanks. My friend then requests his police colleagues to transport my good and orders ‘total setup’ of my stuff.
Retreat
I retreat to my house and am greeted with sweet coffee, daal baat tarkaari and decline the offer of ‘total setup’, as I totally want to set up my own things.
The kindness of many over shadow the unkindness of the few.
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