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I'm sitting on a low balcony at one of my favourite cafes in Lakeside, Pokhara, Northwest of Nepal.
I get a good view of the street here and I’m always greeted traditionally by the staff who know enough English to have a laugh with me.It’s quiet out as Bandh has scared most people off the streets until the election is over.

The shopkeepers sit with their roller doors half open and in case the political parties come zooming down the street to check everyone is obeying the Maoist strike. So far three tourist buses have been blown up, two men have been set on fire and it wasn't uncommon to see a driver pulled out of their car and beaten for disrespecting the Bandh. No one was allowed to drive or operate any sort of business for the full ten day period.
Being stuck in Pokhara wasn’t a bad thing though, it was probably the most pleasant place in the whole of Nepal at that time, compared to chaos that is Kathmandu. The volunteers and I would just escape up to the mountains during most days.

A group of Nepali officers walk by holding large bamboo weapons. They use the sticks to break up any disruptions around election time. Which I suppose is better than guns.

My tabbouleh salad arrives, it’s by far the best I’ve ever had and I tip the waitress Susmita for my thanks. As Susmita walks away I suddenly feel the hairs on my neck stand up and I can feel a presence next to me, an elderly man with one leg. He has kind brown eyes and is trying to communicate with me, “Ali Ali Nepali” I say to him to let him know I speak only a little Nepali. He then holds up a tattered piece of paper that reads English. My shoulders relax as I slump into my chair and read his prayer. It goes onto to explain how he lost his job when he lost his leg and can’t go back to work. I was told not to give in to beggars but this man was crippled by amputation. A poor, honest man struggling to find something to eat. I was quick to give him cash.
He accepted my donation by kissing the money and putting it to his forehead to thank Alla. He had a crutch to hold him up while he waved the cash around. The smile on his face and the repetition of his thankful bow melted my heart and I just knew how grateful he was.
My mum used to say “I once was a man who complained I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.” now that I have met a man who literally had no feet – well, he just changed my life.