This is not going to be a history lesson. If you are interested in the political history of Nepal, you will know who the Maoists are and what they stand for. If you aren't, well, you aren't going to be terribly thrilled if I explain at length. Surffice to say they are a communist movement who have been waging a guerrilla war against the government for over a decade. During this struggle, both sides have been guilty of horrific human rights abuses but there is possibly an end in sight. There is an election coming up so everyone has (mostly) laid down their arms and gone on the campaign trail.
A fair bit of the (Western) literature I read on Nepal before arriving tends to paints the Maoists as popular, necessary agents of change. Violent, yes, but fighting for the people against the corruption inherent in the Nepalese system of government and monarchy. It's kind of hard to keep that in mind, though, when you are staying at an orphanage where a good proportion of the children are there because of the Maoists. Some parents got caught in the crossfire, some were suspected of being government spies, some were simply too poor to pay the 'voluntary donations' when the Maoists came to their village, so they were 'recruited' instead and never seen again. However, in Kathmandu they don't seem to have so much influence. There is plenty of graffiti and occasionally the odd busload of young men go past, shouting slogans and waving flags. On the other hand, it's hard for the army and those who rule the city to have much influence outside of Kathmandu. I was heading to Gorka, which is a Maoist stronghold...
On the first night of my journey, as I was eating dinner in the Arughat lodge, a group of men marched past carrying candles and shouting. I asked Peter what the slogans meant. Over the sound of the shouting I misheard him initially, I thought he said "Hail to our breadwinners!". Seemed quite a nice sentiment. But no, they were actually chanting "Hail to our brave martyrs" - anyone who dies is seen as a martyr who has given their life for the Cause. And death has been quite a central part of the lives of Maoists.
Gumda suffered during the long war. The Maoists set up a training camp above the village and the people had to provide food and any other necessary supplies. The Maoists also instigated their own rule of law and woe betide anyone who didn't fall in line. The army, knowing there were Maoists about but not knowing exactly who they were, sometimes just killed people indiscriminately. The villagers learned to just cooperate and agree with whoever was pointing the guns at the time. Purnee has some amusing anecdotes about those times.
So much for the background. Two weeks into my stay, the Maoists came to Gumda. After school one day, two women that no one recognised came to speak to all the teachers. They asked for ten minutes of our time to talk to us, but once we'd sat down they spent a good half an hour grilling everybody. Eventually they explained that they were here to organise a Maoist rally that would take place that weekend. They wanted to be sure that no one was spreading anti-Maoist sentiment, especially me. They had learned to be suspicious of foreigners, they said, and I shouldn't take it personally. They explained that what they wanted was for the teachers to help them spread their message and make sure everyone in the village 'knew how to vote' in the forth-coming elections. The Maoists had limited resources and teachers are well-respected members of any community, so they were the obvious choices to help out.
A day or two later, I finally got to meet my friend Suzanna's husband. He is away from home much of the time as he's a Maoist activist, but he was back for the rally in the village and had bought his Area Commander along with him. Picture the scene: I have just walked down from the Upper School after the day's IT lesson and pass Suzanna's house on the way home. She invites me in, as usual, but this time there are people who'd like to meet me. The Area Commander - who only goes by his nickname, which means Strong in Nepali - has been part of the movement since its beginnings, has been in many battles and has many stories to tell. He speaks no English but has Peter or Suzanna's husband to translate for him. Suzanna's husband - who's name I never learnt, so let's call him Mr Suzanna - was an English teacher for four years, then worked for a children's society helping children affected by the conflict. He only joined up a year or two ago and is keen to explain about how they will 'build a new Nepal'.
We sat outside the house as it was getting dark. We drank tea and ate popcorn, which is pretty much what I did on every social call I made. Mr Suzanna asked about my background and what I was doing in Gumda, and clearly had the same suspicions as the two women that had visited the school. These were soon dismissed, however, and he was curious about my travels and what I thought about Nepal. We soon got on to religion and politics, where I settled for broad, uncontroversial generalisations. Yes, I agreed that women in Nepal definitely needed more rights. Yes, the current government is indeed corrupt and probably the people will welcome a change. Definitely, they'll be glad to see the end of the violence. This conversation was peppered with polite questions from Strong. He wanted to know if we drank tea in England. Yes, I replied, we're rather famous for it. And did we also eat popcorn? Yes, I replied, but not so often. We regard it as a bit more of a treat, if we go out to see a film for example. This made him laugh. Clearly England was not so different. Next he wanted to know if there were many cars in my home village, whether there was a school and a hospital, how far we had to walk for firewood. He asked about my siblings and what my parents do for a living. He asked me to list the countries I'd travelled to, which, incidentally, is twenty-two across five continents at last count. Facebook says that this amounts to 7% of the world, which sounds like a challenge to me. It was rather an odd conversation, all in all.
Since the election was announced, the Maoists have stopped taking guns out with them. Both the campaign women and Mr Suzanna complained that it made their job a lot more difficult. It was much easier to get people to do what you want them to when you have a gun, believe it or not. Now they had to use their powers of persuasion, which is a lot more difficult. Personally, I thought that was a step in the right direction, but perhaps that's me just being a lefty liberal Westerner.
That Saturday - Saturday being the only day off in a week - we had planned to go on a bit of a hike up Darche Dara, a nearby mountain. However, we were given to understand that we should attend the rally. Everyone else in the village went by the mantra Don't Get On The Wrong Side Of The Maoists, and it seemed prudent that we did too. The rally was being held outside the school, and benches were taken out of the school for people to sit on. They didn't ask permission of course, as everything belongs to the Maoists as far as the Maoists are concerned. I noticed there was also now graffiti on the side of the village shop and on Class 2's classroom door. The shop I can kind of understand, but I think Class 2 are a little too young to vote and few enough of them can read Nepali anyway.
But yes, the rally. Peter and I were placed in 'seats of honour' at the front, which, entirely coincidentally, conveniently made it easy for them to keep an eye on us . We were behind the main table, sitting next to the people making the speeches. The rally lasted about five hours and all the speeches were in Nepali. I understood very little but got Peter to translate. They spoke about the importance of education, of women's rights, of stamping out corruption, and of the dangers of alcohol. They talked at length about how important it is that everyone votes in the election, about what a historic event it will be. Oh yes, and they mentioned that if they don't get voted in, they will take up arms again. They are so sure that the people are behind them, that the only way they could lose is by conspiracy and fraud. And that while they valued freedom of speech, they didn't take kindly to people using 'offensive' language about them. They sited a recent incident at a Democratic rally, where they had been forced to seriously beat a number of people for such offensives. So, I guess you're free to say whatever you like about your neighbour's haircut or your new chickens or the weather, just best not mention the Maoists unless you're a staunch supporter.
The rally was, by all accounts, a success. Most of the village turned up to, um, show their support. Everyone clapped and cheered in the right places, no one asked any questions but clearly agreed whole-heartedly with everything said. At the end, there was dancing and yes, I joined in. Well, I joined in for a minute and a half to the cheers of everyone. What is it about skanking that it fits to almost all music?
Afterwards, Peter and I also had to give a substantial 'donation', but we'd budgeted for that. Then, they gave me a certificate. It says, in Nepalese, that they're grateful for all my support over the years and how happy I must be now they're on the brink of power. But it's all thanks to me. Yes, indeed.
