People in the west seem to forget that the reason for the current impoverished status of many a developing country seems to point to their governments, past or present, or their very lack of them. To claim that democracy is the cure-all end-all to all economic woes would be misleading, to say the least. Ask the people in Nepal. Since the abolishment of the monarchy a couple of years ago, civil unrest has continued unencumbered, with no end to the bhands and protests of the various special interest groups in sight.
Within an established democratic society, we in the west take many things for granted, which often will impede our judgment once we acknowledge how the other half lives. One of them is the, to us, fairly basic concept of law. Every Nepali here will agree that whereas there might be as many rules as there are insect species, nobody can solidly confirm the existence of too many laws per se. Take traffic, one of my favorite topics in Nepal. The government rightfully allocates little of its budget to the erection of street signs and traffic lights. Why should it? Nepali drivers, unless a policeman is present to enforce some order, might think those bright colorful lights are festival ornaments. It sounds like I’m belittling the local population, but I really am not. Only two or three traffic lights in a city of over a million will produce more shaking heads than cautious drivers.
Then there are the accidents. Okay, so every country has them. Even the best laws and most battle-tested seatbelts will not prevent a driver from fender benders or worse as long as that driver is human. No problem, we’ll say in the west. We have insurance for that. Let them sort it out without drivers knocking each other’s heads off, if that hasn’t been accomplished in the accident.
It is not hard to establish who is at fault. The police will jot down notes to include in their official report. Witnesses will submit their statements. And if the reports still smell fishy, our friends from All-State and State Farm will send investigators in their quest to deny yet another claim to any paying client. Here in Nepal, things are much easier. If I were to ram into a little taxi cab that just cut me off and failed to pull on its faulty brakes to regain its position in a non-existent lane, what happens? My fault, that’s right.
Disregard the street theater that would invariably follow with the plethora of freaks and so-called witnesses crawling out from every uncovered manhole. It would be my fault, simply because I have the means and can afford for it to be my fault. Think I’m joking? This is by no means limited to foreigners, either. Ask any Nepali who has ever been involved in an accident. There’s a simple solution to every traffic accident: it’s the rich(er) guy’s fault.
Now I see the logic of our people recommending leaving the accident site. These Maoists might just be serious! Let’s just turn Nepal into Nottingham Forrest. So if a little seventies VW bug rams into my car and paralyzes me for life simply because he was drunk, does this mean I am paying to have his bumper replaced and his broken arm fixed, should this occur? Some questions should really remain unasked, and that was certainly one of them.
Within an established democratic society, we in the west take many things for granted, which often will impede our judgment once we acknowledge how the other half lives. One of them is the, to us, fairly basic concept of law. Every Nepali here will agree that whereas there might be as many rules as there are insect species, nobody can solidly confirm the existence of too many laws per se. Take traffic, one of my favorite topics in Nepal. The government rightfully allocates little of its budget to the erection of street signs and traffic lights. Why should it? Nepali drivers, unless a policeman is present to enforce some order, might think those bright colorful lights are festival ornaments. It sounds like I’m belittling the local population, but I really am not. Only two or three traffic lights in a city of over a million will produce more shaking heads than cautious drivers.
Then there are the accidents. Okay, so every country has them. Even the best laws and most battle-tested seatbelts will not prevent a driver from fender benders or worse as long as that driver is human. No problem, we’ll say in the west. We have insurance for that. Let them sort it out without drivers knocking each other’s heads off, if that hasn’t been accomplished in the accident.
It is not hard to establish who is at fault. The police will jot down notes to include in their official report. Witnesses will submit their statements. And if the reports still smell fishy, our friends from All-State and State Farm will send investigators in their quest to deny yet another claim to any paying client. Here in Nepal, things are much easier. If I were to ram into a little taxi cab that just cut me off and failed to pull on its faulty brakes to regain its position in a non-existent lane, what happens? My fault, that’s right.
Disregard the street theater that would invariably follow with the plethora of freaks and so-called witnesses crawling out from every uncovered manhole. It would be my fault, simply because I have the means and can afford for it to be my fault. Think I’m joking? This is by no means limited to foreigners, either. Ask any Nepali who has ever been involved in an accident. There’s a simple solution to every traffic accident: it’s the rich(er) guy’s fault.
Now I see the logic of our people recommending leaving the accident site. These Maoists might just be serious! Let’s just turn Nepal into Nottingham Forrest. So if a little seventies VW bug rams into my car and paralyzes me for life simply because he was drunk, does this mean I am paying to have his bumper replaced and his broken arm fixed, should this occur? Some questions should really remain unasked, and that was certainly one of them.
