An Economy At Standstill

The closure of the southern transit points by India, in late March, brought unprecedented crisis to landlocked Nepal. The impact was severest in Kathmandu, where two kinds of lines were most obvious: those for kerosene and those of trucks bringing in what used to be left of the Tarai's jungles.

As the political stalemate between Kathmandu and New Delhi persisted, it was a time of uncertainty, a time to take stock. The relationship between the two neighbours was being redefined.

For a privileged few, the shortages meant merely the nuisance of not being able to drive to work. It was the urban poor, those in bazaars and towns, who were hardest hit: interminable waits at the depot to collect rationed kerosene or firewood, loss of business, reduced income and shortage of vital needs, including medicine. Hospitals were without essential supplies and only the severest cases were being treated.

The long-term effects on national economy were not yet apparent, but the immediate impact was clear: almost every economic activity ground to a halt. Industry was at standstill. Travel agencies around the world were warning tourists to stay away. What did this do to the ambitious plans to expand tourism as the mainstay of Nepal's economy? And what was the damage to the Nepali forests this time around? A Government study showed that about 200 hectares of additional forest area was being lost every day.

Kathmandu's   residents enjoyed short-term relief from traffic congestion and diesel exhaust and rediscovered walking as a means of transport. Meteorologists were able to take samples of pollution-free air.

Scarcity hit every community where roads had reached, in and around the urban centres, as well as, the bazaars in the hills and Tarai. Ironically, though, the economic underdevelopment of the hinterland saved many hill people from feeling the immediate brunt of the crisis.    Living outside the "modern sector," their subsistence lifestyles remained comparatively unaffected, at least, as long as the salt in the cellar lasted.

Life went on as before in Kaphal Danda Panchayat in Palpa Jilla, but Durga Bahadur Gandarva, a gainey minstrel, was not taking any chances. Durga Bahadur, seen at right with his son, says he will have a song about salt and kerosene ready, by the time the shortages hit Kaphal Danda.