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The endangered Kusunda tribe now has only two surviving families. One lives in Gorkha and the other in Tanahun. In Dihi village, Tanahun, 46-year-old Indramaya Kusunda lives with her only daughter on the village’s outskirts. Since the death of her husband, Rajamama Kusunda, in 2018, Indramaya has been struggling to sustain the small family on her own.

To make ends meet, the municipality has employed her as a street sweeper. “A few months after my daughter was born, she fell from the roof,” Indramaya recalls. “I took her to Pokhara for treatment. Five days later, my husband collapsed and never got up again.”

Her daughter has had breathing difficulties ever since. “She gets tired easily, even while studying or helping with chores,” Indramaya says. “We spend around Rs 7,000–8,000 a month on her studies and treatment. But how much can I earn from sweeping streets?” 

In 2004, the National Foundation for the Upliftment of Indigenous Peoples purchased one ropani of land in Dihitar and built a three-room zinc-roofed house for Indramaya’s family. But after two decades, the structure is falling apart. “The roof leaks whenever it rains,” she says. “Last year, I tried patching it with glue, but it didn’t work. I’m afraid one day it will collapse.”

Despite her hardships, she feels abandoned. “After Rajamama’s death, no one came to see how we are doing. Those who once promised help have all disappeared,” she says.

The struggle of Indramaya mirrors the broader existential crisis facing the Kusunda community. The only other Kusunda family lives in Terhakilo, Gorkha Municipality–11. Chet Bahadur Kusunda, the family head, lives there with his wife, two sons, two daughters-in-law, a married daughter, and four grandchildren.

They survive as daily wage laborers and own almost nothing. “After a journalist wrote about us, a neighbor donated three annas of land,” says Chet Bahadur. “We built a small house there, but apart from that, we have nothing, not even enough soil to fill our nails.”

He gestures toward a small cage beside his home. “We keep one or two chickens. If we let them roam, they graze in others’ fields.”

The family’s history is one of displacement and hardship. “We came here from Khoplang 45 years ago,” recalls Chet Bahadur. “I was ten when my father died. After that, my mother took us from one house to another, sometimes renting a room, sometimes working for shelter. There’s hardly a house in this village we haven’t lived in.”

He remembers chasing hope from place to place. “Once, my mother took us to Nawalparasi after hearing that the government would give land to squatters,” he says. “We returned empty-handed. Later, a kind neighbor gave us three annas of land. That’s all we have to this day.”

Now, the small one-story house built under the People’s Housing Program can barely fit his extended family. “There’s no land to build another house,” he says.

According to the 2021 Census of Nepal, there are only 256 Kusunda people left in the country. The two remaining Kusunda families in Gorkha and Tanahun are not just struggling with poverty; they are struggling for existence itself.

Without proper social security, land ownership, or sustained government support, the Kusundas, once a proud, nomadic hunter-gatherer tribe of Nepal’s mid-hills, are slowly vanishing from the country’s cultural and human map.

The buckwheat harvest season has begun in the Tsum valley of northern Gorkha. According to local resident Pasang Phunjo Lama, farmers in Chhekampar, located at an altitude of 3,000 to 3,500 meters, are now busy bringing in their crops.

The main crops of Chhekampar in Chumnubri Rural Municipality-7 are wheat, buckwheat, and potatoes. Wheat was harvested about a month ago, and now it is time for buckwheat. “Wheat takes 11 months to ripen, while buckwheat ripens in six,” says Lama, who is also the outgoing ward chairman. “We don’t cultivate the same crop in the same field every year. That’s why we rotate between wheat, potatoes, and buckwheat. If we plant buckwheat one year, we plant wheat for the next three years, and then buckwheat again.”

This year’s buckwheat yield has been excellent, he says. “Even when preparing dhindo, if you mix two parts wheat flour with one part buckwheat flour, it tastes delicious.”

Locals claim that buckwheat grown in the high Himalayan climate is of superior quality and even medicinal. Lamas in major monasteries in Kathmandu are known to buy flour from here, which sells for 120 rupees per gram. “This flour is believed to help with diabetes and jaundice,” Lama adds. “Since there is no motorable road to the village, orders from Kathmandu are sent either by helicopter or mule. We also feed buckwheat flour to yaks and cows, as it is considered medicinal for them too.” 

Once the season begins, farmers from Chhekam, Paro, Jong Ngakyu, Leru, Lamagaun, Burji, Lar, Phurpe, Chhule, and Nile villages take turns harvesting buckwheat through a traditional system of rotation. In recent years, however, some have also started using machines brought from Tibet. “This year, we too harvested with the help of such machines,” Lama says.

Suspension bridges in the hilly areas of the district are usually completed within two to three years. However, the suspension bridge over the Budhigandaki River between Samagaun and Samdo on the Manaslu trekking route has remained incomplete for the past 10 years, with only a temporary jeep crossing in place.

Former ward chairperson Bir Bahadur Lama said the project agreement was signed in the fiscal year 2015/16, but no significant progress has been made beyond the jeep arrangement. Without the bridge, foreign tourists visiting the Manaslu region via Larke, local residents commuting between Samagaun and Samdo, and travelers heading to Ruila on the Tibetan border are compelled to cross the Budhigandaki under unsafe conditions.

Lama criticized the repeated delays, stating that deadlines have been extended year after year without visible progress. He called for the immediate construction of the bridge, or alternatively, the removal of the jeep crossing and restoration of the land. He also noted that despite the prolonged delay, the suffering of residents in these remote areas has been largely overlooked. Meanwhile, foreign organizations such as Kaduri have managed to build multiple suspension bridges in the region during the same period.

According to the Suspension Bridge Division Office, the Government of Nepal had contracted Hari Hari Sharmila JV Company to build the 220-meter-long, three-meter-wide bridge within 18 months. Sub-engineer Jayaprakash Giri said the delay was caused by negligence on the part of the construction company.

Current ward chairperson Karma Chhewang Lama said the community has repeatedly appealed to the bridge division but has yet to see results. “We have approached the department several times, but they keep avoiding responsibility. We are still hopeful the bridge will finally be built,” he said.

The Road Planning Office, Infrastructure Development Office, Local Infrastructure Office Pokhara, and several municipalities are scaling back their programs to dig new road tracks. Some municipalities had already discontinued new track construction in the last fiscal year. Except for Chumanubri and Dharche Rural Municipalities—located in remote and Himalayan regions lacking road connectivity—most local governments have announced plans to reduce or completely halt new track construction from the upcoming fiscal year.

In the last fiscal year, the Road Planning Office, responsible for road construction across the district, built only 3.7 kilometers of new tracks. According to Information Officer Ashiq Rijal, this included just three kilometers of new tracks, compared to 33.7 kilometers of blacktopping and 18 kilometers of graveling.

The Infrastructure Development Office in Gorkha, which undertakes significant road work, reported constructing 12 kilometers of new tracks. According to Office Chief Ganesh Subedi, the office also completed 21.7 kilometers of blacktopping and 9.36 kilometers of graveling.

Gorkha Municipality did not construct any new tracks last fiscal year, confirmed Engineer Prakash Dhakal. Similarly, Chief Administrative Officers from Arughat, Barpak Sulikot, Bhimsenthapa, and Siranchok Rural Municipalities stated that no new tracks were constructed in their respective areas.

“We dug only 153 meters of new track last fiscal year,” said Baburam Magar, Chief Administrative Officer of Shahid Lakhan Rural Municipality. “There is no plan to dig new tracks in the coming fiscal year—only to upgrade existing roads.”

Palungtar Municipality reported constructing 2,275 meters of new track last fiscal year. Engineer Navin Pokharel said the municipality also blacktopped 1,250 meters and graveled a total of 6,625 meters of road. However, there are no plans for new track construction next year.

Ajirkot Rural Municipality, located far from the district headquarters, constructed 2 kilometers of new road last year. Meanwhile, the Nepali Army constructed 2 kilometers of new track in Chumanubri Rural Municipality as part of a 160-kilometer road project aimed at connecting to the Tibetan border, informed Purna Chandra Dhakal.

Gandaki Rural Municipality constructed 4.5 kilometers of new track under a multi-year project to build a road parallel to the Prithvi Highway along the Trishuli corridor, according to Planning Department official Gopi Koirala.

Many people across the country dream of owning a house and settling in Kathmandu Valley. But Tari Bahadur Prajapati is different. He made a bold choice by selling his ancestral property, including his land and house in Thimi, Bhaktapur, and relocating to Gorkha 28 years ago. 

Prajapati rented a piece of land at Chorkate village in Siranchowk Rural Municipality-4, Gorkha, built a pottery workshop, and started crafting clay products. Chorkate has long been inhabited by the Kumal community, with a rich heritage in the art of pottery. Over the past three decades, Prajapti has gained recognition in the village as the ‘Newari Kumal’.

The Kumal community primarily practiced pottery in areas such as Kundurtar and Adhaigaun in Gorkha. Initially, Prajpati encountered challenges in competing with the local potters. However, owing to the high demand for clay products during that period, he swiftly established his business foothold.

Very soon plastic, rubber, aluminum and iron products started inundating the market, placing the traditional potters, who had honed their craft over centuries, in a precarious position, and Prajapati was no exception. While many Kumal artisans reluctantly abandoned their ancestral profession, Prajapati remained resolute. Today, he remains the sole practitioner of his craft, not just in his village but the entire Gorkha district.

At the age of 65, Prajapati finds no interest in pursuing alternate professions. “I have a dedicated customer base, and this business adequately sustains my livelihood. Why should I shift to another profession?” says Prajapati. His two sons, however, have embraced different paths, one is a metal worker and other an electrician. 

Prajapati’s clay products reach different markets across Gorkha. Some of his popular products include clay lamps, pots, vases, and piggy banks. Notably, the demand for clay pots for roasting corn and earthen vessels, cherished for their cooling properties, has been on the rise.

Prajapati hasn’t faced any problem in sourcing clay for his craft as there are no other people involved in the profession. He brings clay from a quarry in Ludikhola once a year. Prajpati has replaced the manual pottery wheel with a motor-powered wheel. Additionally, he has invested in a clay-mixing machine to streamline his production process.

He believes that the government’s support and cooperation could encourage more people to become involved  in the pottery profession. “Government support could reinvigorate and ensure the continuity of age-old professions like pottery for generations to come,” he says. But so far, this lone potter in Gorkha has not received any help.

Tsering Angmo and her brother Tsering Lama attend a private school in Gorkha Bazaar, the district headquarters of Gorkha. The siblings hail from Nyaku village of Chumanuwri Rural Municipality, and they visit their parents once every year. 

“We visit our parents once every year after the end-term exams are over, spend time with them for 10-15 days, and return for a new academic session,” says Angmo.  She joined the school as a nursery-level student, and is currently a tenth grader. “I haven’t spent much time in my village. Not that I don’t want to, but my parents want me and my brother to get a good education,” she says. 

Angmo and her brother are not the only children in Chumanuwri who are staying away from their families for the sake of education. Nearly all children of school-going age in the rural municipality share the similar fate.  One can hardly see any children in the rural municipality, as most of them have been sent away by their parents so that they can go to school.   

Nima Wangyal of Lahi village has six children. Except for his three-year-old son, all five children are either studying in Kathmandu or in India. 

“Three of my children are in Kathmandu and two others are in India. They are there for their studies because there is no school in our village,” he says. 

Wangyal has to pay for the schooling of his two children in India, while the education of his three children in Kathmandu is being sponsored by foreigners.  

If he didn’t send his children to school, he says, they might end up like him stuck in a remote village raising cattle and not doing much with their lives. 

“Those who got a chance to get an education are doing well.  That’s why I decided to send my children away,” says Wangyal. 

In many cases, children in Chumanuwri have foreign sponsors to fund their education. Wangyal says these sponsors usually come through their Lama (spiritual leader). 

Lhakpo Tsewang says since there are no schools in the rural municipality, most of the children are sent to the city areas for education. 

“The only children you see in villages these days are infants. It has been this way for about 10 years now,” he says. 

This flight of children from their homes was prompted by the absence of schools in Chumanuwri—though the local government records show the rural municipality has 21 schools in operation. 

Until a couple of years ago, Chumanuwri used to have a school, Juung Primary, but it was closed down for reasons unknown to the villagers, says Tsewang.  

“An organization called Hope Alliance had built classrooms for the school. It even ran a free lunch program,” he says. “But after the organization left, the school also closed down. We don’t know what happened.” 

Namgyal Lama of Syo village says there are dozens of settlements and villages in Chumanuwri Rural Municipality where it is hard to find children of school-going age these days. 

“It’s just me and my wife at home. Like most other children, ours too are in the city for education,” he says.

It has been 11 years since China promised the teachers and students of Sinjali Secondary School in Gorkha a well-equipped building. But students are still having to attend classes in temporary shelters as construction is yet to start. 

Chinese officials signed an agreement with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Finance in 2010/11 stating that a well-equipped building would be constructed for the school in Sahid Lakhan Village Municipality-4. The old school building was ravaged by the 2015 earthquakes. 

During the prime ministership of Baburam Bhattarai, a visiting high-level Chinese delegation had agreed to build 10 residential school buildings in the Himalayan district. According to Sinjali secondary school principal Bal Narayn Shrestha, his school was eighth on the list. 

“In the meantime, the Chinese have visited the school twice, but to no avail,” says Shrestha. 

“All the schools ravaged by the quakes in the district have been rebuilt, but our school is still without a building,” says Shrestha, whose school’s 11-room building was damaged beyond repair. 

Also read: Two ‘new’ ethnic groups register themselves in census 

In the absence of a building, students from grades 1-8 are obliged to attend classes in temporary shelters. Students in grades nine and 10 have been forced to study in the old building marked with a red sticker indicating that the building is unsafe and can collapse any time. 

Shrestha says the school faces a lot of problems during inclement weather. While summer heat is unbearable, dew drops from the roof in winter. During the rainy season, the roof leaks and water seeps into the classroom. In addition, sound from one room can be clearly heard in another. 

He complains of being tired of frequenting the Chinese embassy, ​​the Department of Education and the Ministry of Finance. He says the school management committee, teachers and parents have repeatedly sought the promised support, but in vain.

Chief of the Education Development and Coordination Unit Khemraj Poudel in the district says that it is unclear if construction would start this year as well. “This is an agreement signed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We are also confused when construction will start,” he says. “It is a matter of diplomacy I guess.”

 Poudel says all other schools in the district, which wanted new buildings, now have them. 

Members of two groups living in Gorkha have registered themselves as separate ethnic communities for the first time in the ongoing 12th national census.

Members of the Chumba and Nubri ethic groups, who live in Chum and Nubri valleys of Gorkha use ‘Lama’ as their surname, were listed as members of the Tamang community during the previous census. This time they have enlisted themselves as Chum and Nubri people and the same as their language.

This came after local youth groups campaigned to raise awareness about the issue, said Wanchuk Rapten from Kimolung Foundation. “We organized door-to-door campaigns to ensure that the Chum and Nubri people enlist themselves in the correct way,” he added. “We also used social media and telephone to make the people aware.” He hoped that the latest census will establish their identity as being separate from the Tamang people.

The local residents feel at ease as most of the enumerators enrolled for the census are from the two communities, said Pema Gyalbo Lama, a resident of Nubri. “We understood that people from other regions won’t understand our feelings. That is why members of the same community have been mobilized as enumerators,” he said. “Even if some of the illiterate people find it hard to give their details, the enumerators will assist them to do so,” he added.

Aslo read: Nepal’s decennial census needs a rethink

“The Central Bureau of Statistics hasn’t assigned any particular codes to facilitate the listing of the two communities as separate ethnic groups,” he added. “The district office has told us that they will look into the matter,” he added.

“They are a separate ethnic group. But due to a mistake, they were counted as Tamangs,” said Mahendra Prasad Dhungana, head of the district census committee. “Even if we haven’t assigned separate codes for the two groups, the census office will do the needful,” he added.

Meanwhile, Gurung and Ghale communities of Dharche have listed ‘Bon’ as their religion. In the past, they were listed as followers of Buddhism, Hinduism and Christianity. “We are Bon people and we want to ensure that we are counted that way,” said campaigner Tek Bahadur Gurung.

The national census, which is held every 10 years, is being conducted from November 11 to 25. As many as 40,000 enumerators and 8,016 superintendents have been assigned for the job.

The Central Bureau of Statistics has built mechanisms from the federal level down to the ward level to conduct the census this year. District census offices have been set up in all 77 districts, with an additional 10 offices in the most populated districts. Similarly, 349 local level census offices have been established at the local level.