Dancing Revolution

As the Reds are sharpening their batons in Bangkok, the Maoists in Nepal are dancing the streets.

The lead-up to this nationwide shutdown was, if I dare say, fearful. A few weeks before the 1st May the Maoists started training members of their youth wing, cadres, school teachers and pretty much anyone who they managed to get hold of, in "self-defence" in the districts. Masses of busses packed with people then started arriving to Kathmandu, and it became pretty clear why all the private schools had been forced to shut down for the week leading up to the May Day. Weapons from khukuris to materials for making Molotov Coctails were found in police raids. In the dark hours fake accidents took place, injuring some of those unwilling who were ordered to stand in the front lines on the 'big day'.

Having left Kathmandu for a short holiday, it seemed almost evident we would not be able to return again. The mind terrorising information dropping in began to turn my stomach. 

Yet, landing to Kathmandu on the 1st May was like landing into a ghost town and never has the ride from the airport to home been as quick and botherless. The shutters of the shops were pulled down in the fear of Maoists collecting "donations", the vehicles stayed off the roads in fear of flying bricks. Armed police forces were nodding off in herds around aboned street corners, while the hundred thousand cadres were holding a mass meeting in Ratna Park. People stayed at home waiting for the televised address to the nation by the PM Nepal, and as he refused to resign the few restaurants that had remained opened, quickly in fear of trouble closed the doors and curtains and took the last orders - indefinately.

What happened after all? This revolution does not sound like whispers, but more like Hindi tunes from Bollywood movies, spreading to streets from gigantic loudspeakers set in the middle of roads, dilluting the worst fears of a violent uprising and changing the mood into one of festivity including nightly torch rallies, a spectacular human chain on the 27 km ringroad circulating the city, and dancing. Everywhere.

Everything having been shut down, there's suddenly enough electricity, and the only decision people have to make is whether to go out and watch the live entertainment, or stay at home and watch tv. I decided to go to work, but having been stopped at a road block on my first attempt to cycle there, I've now abandoned the bicycle and on foot  in the midst of the carneval wonder if the demonstrators know themselves whether to have a party or a revolution. 

The press, one of the few among the ambulances and diplomatic vehicles allowed to move on wheels, reports on spreading diarrhoea among the protestors packed in empty schools and construction sites (i.e.  those who haven't actually forced themselves into private homes and hotels), and on some cadres demanding to take a break to return to work in their fields as it's been raining. This gave a momentary ray of hope that we don't have to wait for the unforseen resignation of the PM giving way to a new unity government...if such a thing could exist in this country under any circumstances, I wonder. 

But, diarrhoea or not, they still keep on dancing, just like the Balts once kept on singing. Just like they sang themsleves free from the communist rule, can the communist rule be danced into the lives of the Nepalese? Have no time to ponder on it further, as the daily two hours the shops are allowed to open is getting close. It's good to go and check how much food stuff still remains and how many more rupees do we need to pay for the tinned tuna and beans today.