However You Look at it, Brick Production Needs to be Scaled Back

Kathmandu, like much of the rest of the country, is famous for its terraced farms. Beautiful, they drape the hills and mountainsides in gold. The change in the fields as the valley shifts from the monsoon into winter is dramatic. Gone are the blanketed fields of green and gold. We're left with smokestacks, blemishes on the landscape that were until now outshone by the colorful and flowing dhan. For some these brick kilns are a means of income in the winter when farming is much more sparse. But for most they are a beacon of cynicism. They chug to life every winter morning, billowing smoke for the majority of the day. The valley is once again blanketed: a blockade of gray, dreary haze weighs down life. There are a plethora of problems that are brought about through their use. The consequences of the un-filtered emissions are most visible and therefore easy to criticize, but equally great problems become apparent if you look closer.


The stacks are one part of a system that reeks havoc on the environment, producing bricks at an alarming rate for construction that is rife across Kathmandu. The huge smokestacks are usually at the center of a labyrinth of plots: this is where the clayey soil is excavated and molded into the bricks, hand by hand. Once the bricks have been naturally dried they are sent in trucks to the kilns, thousands at a time. Black coal can be found in expansive heaps around the stacks in order to build the massive fires. After baking the bricks they are re-loaded and shipped around the valley. A lack of space in Kathmandu means that many of the kilns are located on plots of land that are also supposed to be used for farming. For a country already unable to produce enough food for its population this ritual appears even more idiotic. The plots surrounding the smokestacks are dug up, acres worth of bricks made and stacked in preparation to be baked. The land will eventually become infertile and unable to support crops. They are scared with holes akin to mass graves. The dusty air around the kilns has a strange calmness, sterile and monotonous.

One of the brick makers with the product of his strenuous work.

Another plot of farmland that has been torn apart.

An uprooted tree trunk near a kiln.

Recently made bricks drying before they will be baked.

A community pile of bricks. Who owns them and where they will be used is not apparent.

Another pile of bricks, perhaps in an attempt to preempt construction or repairs.

Beyond the immense pollution they produce, the existence and operation of these monstrosities beg us to ponder deeper implications. Kathmandu clearly has an addiction to construction, which could result in catastrophe. The brick kilns immense influence on this problem is obvious. Who is propagating this out of control process and can we assume that the organization of such construction firms is vertically integrated? The consequences of both processes are truly dire but still they continue. All the more confusing is the fact that so many bricks can be found just laying around as if in anticipation of being used. Greed and corruption appear to be greater forces than charity and conscience in the brick and construction industries of Kathmandu. The utter decimation of the land can also be viewed as a blatant case of individual gain overshadowing the public need. How can someone insist on building skyscrapers when right in front of them people are undernourished and landless? I can only imagine.


Photos of this post can also be found for high-resolution viewing and downloading on flickr.

Puppies and the Life of a Dog in Kathmandu

The vet that examined Lilly is an idiot. Hormonal my ass! Seriously, after seeing her like this how could you not know that she was pregnant? Lilly is one of the school's dogs at Rato Bungala, and she was clearly preggers. Dogs definitely fill some kind of special role in Nepali society; during Tihar the mutts are even worshiped for one day, known as Kukur Tihar. Most people would agree Kathmandu has a dog problem though; they're literally everywhere. Most houses have at least one dog, not to mention that thousands of other kurkurs don't have owners or homes. There is a whole spectrum of issues that goes along with having so many stray dogs, some more serious than others. For one thing, you really have to be careful about where you walk, but rabies and inbreeding among street dogs definitely top the list of more serious issues.

There have been many concerted efforts* to aid this growing problem over the years, but if the dogs are breeding faster than they are getting off the streets, the problems will continue to grow. I'm not an expert in this field, so I don't have a solution. But I think something large scale -- ideally managed by the government -- would have to be instigated in order to see some real improvement in the lives of our average Kathmandu canine. I love dogs; I wish everyone would just adopt one to help! But the reality is that only people who have the space, time and money can adopt, which is unfortunately only a small portion of the Kathmandu population. As for Lilly's pups, they'll each be sold to individuals and households who understand the responsibilities, costs and benefits to owning a dog. We'll probably keep one or two around here as well, rumor has it ;) Not every dog is so lucky though. Similar to people in Kathmandu, dogs come from all walks of life as well.

Ama Ghar kukurs playing and getting to know each other.

Kunda uncle and one of Lilly's new pups. Two came out white!

It's a lazy dog's life. She looks like she may be expecting.

Lilly loves to hop in the pond when it's warm. She likes to get everyone else wet as well...

Balu is a great guard dog. Lounging 90% of the time is in the job description as well.

Street dogs are cute too, all the more reason to adopt one!

Balu on the prowl at naya Ama Ghar.

haha, priceless.

*See: Nepali Times Issue # 199, DOGMANDU and Kathmandu Animal Treatment Centre

A plethora of other Canine related photos are available for viewing and downloading on flickr.

Earthquakes and Precarious Buildings Spell D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R

It’s hard to imagine what the Kathmandu valley will look like 5 years from now. Even annual visitors to the valley say they can’t recognize areas of the city from one visit to the next. This unplanned urban expansion poses many threats to the valley: to infrastructure buckling under pressure, to the environment, and to the traditional Nepali way of life. The dangers associated with such rapid construction are only compounded when we consider that few of the buildings are properly constructed to withstand earthquakes. A mega earthquake hits Kathmandu every 100 or so years, resulting from the release of tension that slowly builds up due to the subduction and collision of the Indian and Eurasian plates. The real question is what will happen to the majority of earthquake susceptible buildings when the next big quake happens. Considering that almost any building from the international airport, to houses, schools and hospitals are likely to be razed in the next big quake, the future looks bleak. Walking around Kathmandu, you can almost tell which ones are going to come tumbling down.

Slim and slender are common characteristics of houses in Kathmandu. Neither trait is very earthquake proof.

This style is likely a result of the fragmentation of family property, subsequently becoming smaller each generation.

Two new houses dwarfing a traditional one. Even if the older home could survive, the toppling of the toothpicks in the event of an earthquake would more than likely destroy the smaller building as well.

This house’s first floor is already buckling under gravity. An earthquake would easily raze it.

Bracing whole buildings is an all too common sight in Kathmandu.

Toothpick style buildings are commonly demolished as well. I wouldn’t want to be around when this brace is removed or falls.

Water tank “pedestals” are not only ugly, they also pose a huge threat during and after an earthquake. You may escape being in the path of a falling tank, but how will you survive without any water?

The construction of new water tank terraces can be found almost anywhere.

The newest attractions are the 10 to 20 story “high rise” buildings beginning to dot the valley floor. Even if these high-rises are structurally sound they could topple over when the soil of the former lakebed liquefies in an earthquake.

But all is not lost. There is growing public awareness about earthquakes, and communities are starting to get together to prepare and pre-position relief materials. Nepal's international donors are also working together to back preparedness and response, especially in retrofitting schools and hospitals. At this point, I believe that increasing awareness in the general public about earthquake preparedness could be one of Nepal's best strategies. Although many buildings will most likely go in a mega quake, an effective post quake plan could very likely help save thousands of lives. The timing of the next big quake is uncertain: it may be tomorrow, or it may be 20 years in the future. One thing that is certain, however, is that being prepared is something Nepal cannot afford to put off any longer.

The photos you see here, as well as a slew of additional ones, are available for viewing and downloading on flickr.