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Communes on the horizon
DEC 04 - On the way to Chorkate, Gorkha, about three hours away from the district headquarters, I stumbled upon a red flag-bristled compound nestled in a river valley. The scene was reminiscent of the Chinese propaganda posters for collectivisation in the 50’s, in which manpower from individual plots was pooled together to produce harvests through efficiencies of scale. In China, deeds to land were distributed to peasants as part of a reform process before they were encouraged to join agricultural cooperatives, later combined as massive communes. The initial stages of these plans met with measured success, but they are better known for what went wrong—in the later stages of the plan, massive famines killed millions. Curious about if, when, and how these plans were being laid in Nepal, I soon found myself in the Gorkha Bazaar Maoist office, seeking permission to tour the facility.
Being an American complicated the process. The first thing they asked me was how I found where the office was, as if the 10 m tall concrete Lal Salaam gate wasn’t enough. Photos with their People’s Liberation Army, and one with me shaking hands with party chairman Prachanda in particular, went a long way, but there were still a battery of questions about my reasons for being in the country, and my opinion of the party.
They have good reason to distrust foreign journalists. Writing positive things about revolutionary communists on the U.S.-terrorist exclusion list is hardly a good career move, and there have been countless unfair characterisations. When the Maoists were constructing an 81-km-road from Dang to Rolpa, what should have been an easy public relations move turned out to be otherwise with reporters deciding it was an example of “forced labour”.
Roads in Nepal had long been constructed by communal labour, usually by lower castes, even when the Peace Corps laid the markers. But this didn’t fit the narrative, and wasn’t mentioned. So it was after careful consideration that the local office decided I was of little threat, appointed my host in Gorkha as my interpreter, and sent word to the cooperative that we were coming.
According to the Maoists, Namuna (Model) Agricultural Centre was founded to teach agricultural skills and collective farming to locals, and serve as a model for similar facilities nationwide. It was founded in honour of party leader Dr. Baburam Bhattarai, whose childhood village overlooks the site from a nearby hill. The party also calls it a “model of a self-dependent economy”, a cooperative where “new and modern methods of agriculture” will be implemented to show how a “socialistic economy” works.
The most visible structures in the cooperative are two parallel 30 m long sheds—one for the buffaloes and the other, a two-floored structure, for residents. About five cadres were lounging on the balcony of the latter shed when we reached the spot. The other 25 were out in the fields. I spoke to Sharmila Wagle and Hari Khanal first. Khanal was a middle aged, soft-spoken man who sported a beard, while Wagle was a confident young woman in her early 20’s. According to the two, the cooperative raised buffaloes and pigs, farmed fish, and grew rice and vegetables. Cadres from various party organs and sister organisations like the YCL, PLA, and Tamu Mukti Morcha volunteer at the centre, they said. Wagle explained that while they weren’t paid, the party had “made arrangements to take care of their families if a member fell sick”, which removed a major obstacle to volunteering.
An equal number of villagers worked there as well as part of the educational function of the co-op. The two emphasised that locals were paid Rs. 100 to Rs. 400 a day, but did not know what type of skills were being taught. As is typical for Maoist operations, gender balance rested near 50 percent, and cooking and cleaning was done on a rotational basis, involving both men and women. Other tasks were distributed on a “per-needs” basis with no structured division of labour, and decisions were made through semi-regular meetings of the members. It must be said this was refreshing, after seeing women do all cooking and cleaning and the word ‘peon’ actually used as job title in the rest of the country
After some of my abortive attempts at translating “sustainable practices,” Khanal took me on the promised tour, while my interpreter stayed behind to chat.
The balcony, on which the two were resting earlier, led into a spacious hall filled by mounds of harvested paddy. Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin, and Mao oversaw any proceedings from a banner along the back wall. The ground-floor of the shed held the living quarters, quite Spartan in appearance, and storage rooms. A separate shed with a small gas stove and a few bags of rice served as a kitchen. Between the meeting hall and the buffalo shed was a circular bench for communal dining.
A five minute walk through the paddy fields led to the fish farm, where 10 pigs were penned next to four ponds. Despite the mutual language barrier, Khanal managed to convey that the fish ate the pig excrement and that the ponds were separated into small, medium and large-sized fish. Khanal said the fish would fetch a good price, which made it plausible that the cooperative was self-sustaining. There were even plans to expand the number of pigs to 50.
Back in the compound, I was shown a detailed map of Nepal, with long-term development plans, ethnicity-based federal autonomous regions, and infrastructural plans such as cable cars and railroads were highlighted. It may or may not have been the best plan, but it was a plan, and that goes a long way here. It could have finally been some positive press for the party, if only my interpreter had felt the same way.
His first words, when out of earshot, were, “Never in my whole life do I want to come here again!” While I was on my tour of the facility, all that the party members seemed to have to say to him was that their “party is the largest party in Nepal….the most powerful party…nobody can say anything to our party.” Although my interpreter liked the Maoist policies a little bit, he hated the cadres’ attitude.
On top of that, one of them had threatened him, “Americans are not good for Nepal. If what he writes is bad, you will be held responsible!” This was an even bigger slap in the face considering he was there on special request from their district office. To her credit, Wagle had jumped to his rescue. “Whoever writes the article is the one responsible.” He thought, “Oh, this girl is one of the good Maoists.” But after that, she said, “Ours is the most powerful party in Nepal!” So, to a Maoist cadre who may be disturbed with this unfavourably-tilted article, I assure them that I meant no harm. A few arrogant words will often send even the best-laid plans askew.
Horning, an American, has been researching conflict in Nepal since 2003, and has lived in the country on and off since 2005.
He has interviewed leaders and combatants of the Maoist
Movement from the ground level to the central committee.
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