‘YCL cadres demolish a house in Surkhet’, I read in the Kathmandu Post. Thuggery? Drunken vandalism? Nope, it was destroyed “as per wish of the people” according to the district leader “since they complained that it made the road congested” What obliging chaps. In the UK, the process is not quite so simple as a few whispers through the grapevine- council applications, endless surveys, counter applications and court hearings really do stifle the demolition industry. The youth wing of the Maoist Party of Nepal might not be so bad after all, we could all do with a bit of that over here and I wonder if they’d have time to deal with that monstrosity of a conservatory your next door neighbour obviously can’t afford but has put up anyway…. ?

The YCL (Youth/Young Communist League) is aligned with the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist), and now often does the rough work for the party, especially now that the latter is officially prohibited from doing so, being (technically at least) involved with the Eight Party Alliance and the peace process.

The organisation truly is a two headed beast though. We see youths muffled up with gloves and face masks taking part in city wide clean ups, we read of YCL cadres working to repair and maintain remote roads connecting distant villages and communities, something the current administration seems too busy, or unable to do. The recent Rayamajhi Commission, partly organised by the YCL has seen success in naming and shaming many royalist ministers still part of the interim government, who held posts and profited during the king’s autocratic rule, and so by default have no place in the ‘new Nepal’.

In the same article (Friday October the 5th) however, the YCL in Ghumti Kalikasthan threatened “physical action” if locals didn’t manage to cough up Rs 500,000 (about £3800) within a week, as compensation for an office vandalised one month ago. Further up the page, we read of YCL cadres exacting ‘tourism taxes’ from members of expeditions to Dhaulagiri, (a peak in the east of the country). Fair enough you might say, a permit to climb a mountain is expected. But this permit will be paid for at a government office in Kathmandu or Pokhara, any money taken by the Maoists will likely end up funding further ‘agitations’, aimed at derailing any future attempts at holding Constituent Assembly Elections. The elections have recently been postponed anyway, because of a Maoist walkout due to the failure of the other (7) parties to agree to declare the country a republic immediately.

So, the question of everyone’s lips is; Can our home grown neds learn from these Ghurkha hooligans?. Probably not I’m afraid, (on paper at least) the YCL is part of a political party, with its cadres fighting for the oppressed classes of the country (of which there are many) and striking against corruption and anyone who held power during the King’s recent stint at absolute rule, while the fine young men that roam our streets and parks seem to have no awareness of…..anything, even of who our Prime Minister is. ‘Battles’ in the northeast are fought over football shirt colours, easy and stupid young girls, and which part of our tiny county you’re from, not over political ideology or real grievances-it’s understandably difficult to bother to pay any attention towards the young warriors of Moray and the ‘problems’ they face. Alcohol too could be a problem. Of all of the misdemeanours of the YCL catalogued by the press here, rarely, if ever is alcohol a cause of the problem. Compare this to the shenanigans of the young scallywags in Forres….and well, I don’t even need to search for statistics. I just can’t see our boys giving up the Buckfast for the annual young hooligan conference in Geneva…

Of the course the YCL are not some kind of Secret Seven do-gooder bunch of happy young things. More often than not they are simply thugs, hiding behind a revolutionary mask in order to extort, rob and kidnap in the name of class war. Having suffered under the antics of the YCL for some time now, the public’s patience with the group is wearing extremely thin, (especially with the recent obstruction of publishing of The Kathmandu Post, and Kantipur newspapers by Maoist cadres) but with every looting, kidnap and strike, justification is always given, whether it be a corrupt minister’s naming and shaming, or a demolition as mentioned above. Often victims of scuffles with the group are compensated soon after. Can you see a young team of Scotland doing the same?

The YCL is undeniably a thorn in the side of Nepal’s extremely slow political process, merely doing the bidding of the Maoists who wish to disrupt any progress towards a functioning democracy. As the name suggests, the League is made up of youths, youths who are politically aware and active at least to a certain degree. The end, a socialist paradise free from the corruption, inequality and stagnation the country has suffered under for so long must look an attractive goal, attractive enough to justify violence being used attempting to attain it. The Maoists have cleverly sold themselves and their ideas to much of the youth- the people who one day may play huge parts in the future of the country, and whose participation is desperately needed (the current Prime Minister is an octogenarian, and the most active of a sluggish bunch of politicians). Hark back to Britain, where too large a proportion of the youth is staggeringly unaware of all current events, ones that are shaping their futures, and seems perfectly content to float along, drinkin’, fightin’ an’ shaggin’ every weekend away, and I’d much rather see a bunch of angry, vocal youths fighting for some sort of change in their country than a group of indifferent and pampered boys and girls involved in violence simply because they cannot think of anything better to do.

The YCL would always clean up your garden after taking it over for a rally, and if you received a beating at their hands, you’d more than likely receive a reason and possibly a receipt. Would you expect the same from the Forres Young Team?

Tags: nepal
Current Location: Ktm, Nepal

Hanging out of a microbus door has got to be one of the best (of a bad bunch) workouts here for the upper arms and shoulders. Yes, the physical fitness scene here is shite, loping around a cricket field is never going to get rid of that curry and rice pot belly everyone seems to have.

I’m cutting a terribly dashing figure, it’s as if I’m piloting a laser in a terribly prestigious sailing cup, squatting precariously out over a raging sea, face rugged and determined, licking salt spray from my lips and doing my utmost to beat those damn Yanks and bring glory and honour home to dear old England,

Not really. Yet again cheap public transport calls, and it’s a busy day…

Tea and toast await me at the end of this journey, but the aromas of street stalls and rainbows of fresh fruit at the street side (coated in fumes, but still preferable to cling film, Tesco) send tropical shaped doubts in to my mind, and I’m confused- the exhaust must be getting to my head- should I alight, ditch the pencilled-in chat about politics and gorge myself on papaya? Too late! (famous figure who never could decide), the express is off, and with a jet-like roar the engines fire up and we head north east ish.

Into the Abyss…

We race with other, rusty, clanking vehicles, horns for once welcome as they mask the spluttering and groaning our engine is emitting. I fear I must shoulder some of the responsibility for this, and I also feel that the blame for the craft being side-heavy and making no progress towards pole position in this race up the hill could, somehow, be laid at my feet. Not that there is much room at my feet of course, they’re being scowled at by at least four other sandaled pairs who are of the opinion that the ledge of the van was far too crowded even before my clumsy appearance, and that an accidental trip would do a favour to everyone.

Yes, space is tight, there’s no denying it. The bridge, only built for a single, slight Nepali navigator now has to accommodate a European, who’s shortcut-spotting and insult exchanging skills are definitely in the spring of life. My lack of combat experience is brought painfully to light as we approach the roundabout and the road widens out threefold and we are engulfed in shell fire from a rival dreadnought. I am almost thrown from the deck, saved only by a scrawny, sunburnt arm. Our driver doesn’t fail us though, and we emerge from the putrid smoke, weaving, ducking and diving through the melee of burning rubber. God! Was that a red flag with a hammer and sickle? Drive man, drive! We are a particular target for these ruffians, the pilot is wearing a Stars and Stripes bandana, some idiot is displaying his bottle of Pepsi for every Tom, Dick and Harry to see, and Britney Spears adorns the rear of the ship. So, the pedal is hit, we make haste, choking a couple of goats who were stupidly standing in our wake.

Many moons later…..

Trafalgar is left behind as we sail past lush rice paddies, dotted with large homes, the engine running smoothly, grandmothers back to berating anyone within reach and we have left the city and can look up in awe at the foothills of the Himalaya. Stupas and temples poke up from a lush green carpet and small waterfalls can be seen. Even the dogs seem to appreciate the clean air and there is a collective sigh of relief from everyone except the driver who continues to scowl from behind his battered cap and worries about how much longer the suspension will last.

It’s my stop. I bang on the terribly fragile roof, yell pompously at the minute conductor, hand over a sweaty ten rupee note, and step down and walk away, bag slung over my shoulder with all the swagger I can muster. When I’m out of sight I can thank my lucky stars, collapse for five minutes in a relieved heap, and go and talk about the Maoists over a strong cup of Earl Grey.

Tags: nepal
Current Location: Ktm, Nepal

“A country under foreign domination seeks escape from the present in dreams of a vanished age, and finds consolation in visions of past greatness. This is a foolish and dangerous pastime, in which many of us indulge”


This statement cannot properly be applied to Scotland, as it is not a subject under a ruling country although judging by the constant chip on its shoulder, one might wonder, but, if we replace the issue of foreign domination with today’s pressing problems however, then this quote from Jawaharlal Nehru’s ‘Discovery of India’ could easily be applied to modern Scotland. The north east is no exception, and its people some of the worst offenders in disappearing into the fuzzy warm past, one seemingly of cocoa, corporal punishment and endless long walks, and forgetting issues facing the area today, of which there happen to be not a few.

True, to the majority of the readers of local press in the northeast, these memories and recollections provide a welcome relapse into days gone by, ones of sunshine, youth and possibilities; when Buckfast, knife crime and rampant teenage pregnancy were almost unheard of. Burying ones head in the sand though, no matter how inviting and pleasant that sand is cannot and will not make the problems of today disappear, but still every week in the local Moray, Highland, or Aberdeenshire press, these fond reminiscences of the past manage to make an appearance, whether through columnists making comparisons with the hard working, polite, and dashing young manhood of yesteryear with the wretched, alcohol-ridden juveniles of today, a recount of a gorgeous summer walk taken over the Dava in 1959, or the photographic sections that convey how little Elgin High Street has actually changed over the past seventy years.

Press coverage of what the youth are up to extends to the latest junior football results, and roughly the second year of secondary education, when we’re still well-mannered enough to allow someone to take a photo of our gymnastics display. Aside from the odd volunteer overseas making a report, the old are informed of what the young are doing through police reports and exasperated letters from concerned residents. When was the last time you read something positive about, or written by, anyone between fifteen and twenty?

With the provincial press dominated by the middle aged or elder generations it’s no wonder that young people generally don’t read its publications, which is a shame as especially in the northeast, ways for young folk to communicate and share ideas and opinions outside of the all-conquering Facebook and Myspace are scarce. Obviously not every spotty fifteen year old is a budding Charles Dickens, but the whole age group cannot be written off as a bunch of illiterate ne’er do wells, and with the wide ranges of issues affecting Moray today (uncertainty over the future of the RAF bases, North Sea oil, and the brain drain down to England or the Central Belt) or threatening to in the near future, the community needs to hear the voice of the young. More so than before, as it is ultimately us who will reap the results of any decisions taken now by our elders.

Both age groups need to give ground; the elders need to realise the potential that we have, and make some sort of attempt to encourage us to use it. Fair enough, difficulties present themselves here; it’s not cool at all to be seen taking an interest in anything outside drinkin’ fightin’ an shaggin’, during your secondary school years and how many people under twenty, or thirty for that matter, are seen at any kind of public forum or meeting in the area? For our part, we need to realise that the northeast belongs to us too; once the current generation reaches sixty five and starts spending more and more time out of the country and the drizzle, we’re going have to work something out-it will be up to us to keep the hospitals running and the shops selling, no more six week holidays over the summer or fry-ups cooked for us on a Sunday morning when we’ve drunk too much on a Saturday night.

Keep The Peoples’ Friend and Scottish Country Life for reminiscing of better days, and we’ll keep that top shelf filth we read on booze, gadgets, birds and fashion to ourselves. When it comes to mainstream media however, let’s try and come to some sort of balance.

Tags: uk
Current Location: Ktm, Nepal