My OperaThe First President of Nepal
Thursday, July 24, 2008 11:01:28 AM
It has been 43 rainy days of deadlock since I saw the ex-king Gyanendra deliver his final speech, with a smugness that did not befit one abdicating a centuries-old throne. Maybe the guy knew what was kind of tractless politics were in store for this place. And it has been a jading experience to see the Maoists, Marxists, and Madhesis wrangle with each other for so long, playing politics while doctors go on strike, food and fuel skyrocket, and nothing gets done. But after all this, a breakthrough. On Monday, July 21, Nepal elected its first president. On Wednesday, I saw the inauguration.
Much like during the palace press conference, I can thank my dinky Temporary Himalayan Times press pass for the opportunity. The guards at the gate gave me a skeptical look, asked if I had an invitation, and I put up a classic entitled-white-person fuss, demonstrating that I had a camera and I was on assignment. I wasn't, but I didn't feel the least bit bad about it. Once inside, it was clear just who had gotten the invitations.
At Gyanendra's press conference, it was just the ex-king, a hundred reporters, and his two stuffed tigers. At the presidential palace, anyone who was anyone showed up. There were...
...these guys, and the rest of Nepal's top brass, a term I will now forever associate with this event...
...these guys, as well as the presidential band, the presidential car polisher...
...a lineup of foreign dignitaries...
...Girija Prasad Koirala, octegenarian freedom-fighter, Nepali Congress party honcho, and prime minister up until yesterday, when he finally tendered his resignation...
...newly elected vice president Parmananda Jha...
...and the curmudgeonly first president of Nepal himself, Ram Baran Yadav. He didn't smile much, he barely opened his mouth to take the oath of secrecy, but he saluted like a champ, and his background is pretty inspirational. While in the U.S. Barack Obama garners all the (deserved) talk of historic achievement, it's happening here, too. Yadav is from one of the Madhesi ethnic groups from southern Nepal, the Terai, where historically the kings of Nepal had put in their hardest work oppressing people. He has a resume of arrests and was probably beaten a few times. And now he has replaced Gyanendra as the head of the state, a fitting, if delayed, symbol of the summer success.
There were also hordes of journalists, well-wishers, admirals, generals, ceremonial horseguards, politicos, allies, enemies, and one presidential bodyguard who I swore I had seen a month ago, as a royal bodyguard. How things change. The only person of interest who wasn't there was Prachanda himself, Maoist supremo, spurned in the presidential election, now hoping for the Prime Minister's spot, still the eye of the political hurricane sweeping Nepal, and no doubt feeling a little chink in his pride. The Maoists "quit" the government after the election loss, but there are questions about the staying power of the four-party alliance that won. So who knows? But yesterday wasn't about the Maoists or the madness. It was pomp and spectacle, and a 21-gun salute, and polished limousines, and the beginning of a new era for Nepal. I'm very, very happy to have seen it.
All the best,
Brendan
Much like during the palace press conference, I can thank my dinky Temporary Himalayan Times press pass for the opportunity. The guards at the gate gave me a skeptical look, asked if I had an invitation, and I put up a classic entitled-white-person fuss, demonstrating that I had a camera and I was on assignment. I wasn't, but I didn't feel the least bit bad about it. Once inside, it was clear just who had gotten the invitations.
At Gyanendra's press conference, it was just the ex-king, a hundred reporters, and his two stuffed tigers. At the presidential palace, anyone who was anyone showed up. There were...
...these guys, and the rest of Nepal's top brass, a term I will now forever associate with this event...
...these guys, as well as the presidential band, the presidential car polisher...
...a lineup of foreign dignitaries...
...Girija Prasad Koirala, octegenarian freedom-fighter, Nepali Congress party honcho, and prime minister up until yesterday, when he finally tendered his resignation...
...newly elected vice president Parmananda Jha...
...and the curmudgeonly first president of Nepal himself, Ram Baran Yadav. He didn't smile much, he barely opened his mouth to take the oath of secrecy, but he saluted like a champ, and his background is pretty inspirational. While in the U.S. Barack Obama garners all the (deserved) talk of historic achievement, it's happening here, too. Yadav is from one of the Madhesi ethnic groups from southern Nepal, the Terai, where historically the kings of Nepal had put in their hardest work oppressing people. He has a resume of arrests and was probably beaten a few times. And now he has replaced Gyanendra as the head of the state, a fitting, if delayed, symbol of the summer success.
There were also hordes of journalists, well-wishers, admirals, generals, ceremonial horseguards, politicos, allies, enemies, and one presidential bodyguard who I swore I had seen a month ago, as a royal bodyguard. How things change. The only person of interest who wasn't there was Prachanda himself, Maoist supremo, spurned in the presidential election, now hoping for the Prime Minister's spot, still the eye of the political hurricane sweeping Nepal, and no doubt feeling a little chink in his pride. The Maoists "quit" the government after the election loss, but there are questions about the staying power of the four-party alliance that won. So who knows? But yesterday wasn't about the Maoists or the madness. It was pomp and spectacle, and a 21-gun salute, and polished limousines, and the beginning of a new era for Nepal. I'm very, very happy to have seen it.
All the best,
Brendan
