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Finally, we have found an old new prime minister in the form of KP Sharma Oli, who has risen to pow­er on a platform of delivering stability and prosperity. Oli is arguably the most admired living politician in Nepal right now, thanks to his nationalist rhetoric the last time he was prime minister in 2015-16, and more recently with the formation of the Left Alliance and its promise of stability and development. The last time Oli was prime minister, the country was reeling from the devas­tation wrought by the earthquake and strangled by the Indian blockade. Oli took a strong stand against the blockade, for which his party, the CPN-UML, has been rewarded with a solid majority across the three tiers of gov­ernment—local, provincial and central.

As such, the public has great expecta­tions from Oli. He has repeatedly made big promises to transform the country. Now he has been given a chance.

So the question is whether Oli will be able to keep any of his big promises. Whether it be bringing Chinese railway or developing hydropower or increasing ordinary Nepalis’ per capita income, Oli will need to find some ways if he intends to maintain his popularity.

But if we look at his record, Oli has not delivered much. Although he stoked nationalist sentiments, he could not go beyond rhetoric. He signed some bilat­eral deals with China during his tenure as prime minister, which was the back­bone of his ‘development’ agenda on the campaign trail. But infrastructure deals are not new for Nepal-China relations; it is their implementation that is novel.

The rise of Oli in Nepali politics is quite mysterious. What we do know for certain is his ties with various goons and mafia figures and his assertive words and body language. In recent years, Oli grew to be the most powerful man in UML.Under Oli’s protection, a new group of oligarchs has emerged in Nepal. These people do not hold formal government positions; they are in the private sector, but control much of what is going on in the public sector. These oligarchs care little about who is in the government, but work to ensure that major political actors across the spectrum have been won over.

Oli was one of the strongest support­ers of this group of criminal business­men, and now that their power is no longer under the control of the political class, Oli will have to negotiate with them at every step while he leads the government. How Oli will manage to deliver on his development dreams in the face of powerful resistance by the goons he once groomed and sheltered will be interesting to watch.

In essence, Oli projects two images of himself—the protector of oligarchs and the messiah of development. For instance, one day he speaks publicly in favor of the likes of Ajaya Sumargi, a nouveau riche oligarch who, it is sus­pected, became an overnight billionaire with the blessings of the Maoists and plenty of money laundering. The next day, Oli is back to feeding the masses the promise of increased income and high speed transit.

Interestingly, in Sumargi’s case, even the Supreme Court seemed to side with Oli and allowed the scandalous man to access funds frozen by the central bank. The popular understanding is that with the shift in power, Sumargi’s loyalties have also shifted to Oli.

Likewise, a recent picture of Oli and Prachanda having lunch with the owner of the proposed B and C Medical Col­lege went viral on social media. Nepal’s political future is being mediated by such middlemen. And as long as these middlemen meddle in our statecraft, the promise of development will likely remain just a promise.

As for Oli, two conflicting images of one man cannot coexist forever. He will have to choose one and reveal that choice based on the decisions he makes in the coming weeks. KP Oli’s public trial begins now.

There are basically three types of taxi drivers in Kathmandu—the silent type, the chatty type, and the ‘let me get as much money as possible from you’ type. That’s not to say the silent and chatty types are not trying to increase their earnings. In fact the chatty type may get a tip just because he is so engaging while stuck in a jam. On other days I’m less inclined to answer the standard questions about my place of origin, marriage status and place of work. Nor I am really wanting to take the guy to my country to drive the car that he believes I have there.

On the days when I am quite hap­py to reply to the questions, the answers may vary slightly depend­ing on the (perceived) character of the driver. But I always have a (fic­tional) husband waiting at home and two children (one of each) either here, or at university in Britain or off travelling the world. Some days I work for an NGO, other days I am a trainer, or a housewife.

Meantime, the driver who is try­ing to get more money out of me is out of luck! Having lived here before many of the drivers were old enough to reach the pedals, I know the approximate (and sometimes the exact) cost from A to B. And I know the shortcuts.

But give credit where credit is due: I have never had a Kathmandu taxi driver try to take me the long way round in order to increase the amount on the meter.

I remember a time when it was really hard to get a taxi, because there just wasn’t the same number on the road. And those that were available were horrible old cars that had no suspension and were built for midgets. You know the ones—those that were eventually sent off to do the airport run. Tall tourists with huge backpacks or suitcases squeezing into those oddly narrow vehicles. What an introduction to the country!

Yellow and black ones

Thankfully the taxis on offer at the airport are now much more comfortable and the pre-paid ticket takes the strain out of communica­tion for arriving tourists. Meantime, while we are reminiscing, do you remember auto-rickshaws? Those yellow and black ones. Nostalgia! In fact I was quite upset when auto-rickshaws were removed from the streets of Kathmandu because they were so much cheaper than taxis—it cost me Rs 11 to ride from my apartment to Lazimpat (a 15-min­ute walk). And they were quite fun to ride in as they zipped through the traffic and down small roads which should really be gullies. It made you feel like you really were in a different place!

On the other hand, the brand new cabs have heaters for those cold nights. Which can, if you shut your eyes, make you feel like you are indeed in a different time and place.

Finally, the silent type. While it’s nice after a hard day to drive in silence (maybe some Bollywood on the radio), those silent types can be a little creepy. They don’t respond to a cheery “Namaste”, seem unim­pressed by your thorough knowl­edge of the road or your limited Nepali language skills. Hopefully they are just concentrating on the road, and not burdened by a person­al problem which might make them less than reliable drivers. Or, even worse, fingers crossed they are not some psycho madman.

The latter thought only seems to strike when it’s late at night and seems to grow along with the silence. I know Nepali friends who take down the number of the cab to text home before getting in. But, realistically, who am I going to text? I never get those silent types to drive me right up to my door but ask them to stop a bit down the road. The local dogs then offer their friendly faces and escort me home. In the morning of course it all seems so silly—until the next silent taxi driver.

I believe there is now the equiva­lent of Uber in Nepal. Having never taken Uber I have no idea how this works. But I am reliably told the idea here is that you call, and they turn up. Interesting! How on earth do they find my house? And is that really easier than me walking to the chowk? Which brings me to the question of street names and house numbers, or lack thereof…

Jackie adds a Scottish flavor and an expat take to her column—sometimes with a twist of sarcasm

We are often told by our leaders and analysts toeing the “line” that we are on our way to pros­perity. With democracy, a federal set-up and a young demographic, there is no way to stop us from achieving our dream of a prosperous Nepal. And before you could question them how exactly these factors influence economic growth, they will be quick to add that we will become a vibrant bridge connecting India and China and benefit from their economic growth. This is all humbug.First, we are pinning our hopes on oth­ers—India and China—for our economic growth. It is no different to expecting your rich neighbor to give you money to renovate your house. You need to have money or the ability to make money yourself to get things started and if you run short of it, then your neighbor may loan you some if you ask for it. But you cannot be certain of it as your neighbor’s generosity or lack of it depends on many factors. It is the same with nation states. But we seem to forget this simple fact.

To further trick us into believing that they know what they are talking about, our leaders and scholars often invoke the trickle-down effect—that we will reap benefits from the growth of our neighbors, even if we do nothing. It’s like dreaming that part of the interest earned by your neighbor on his huge bank deposit is going to automatically seep into your account. No, that’s not going to happen. So there goes the mon­ey-will-follow-even-if-we-stand-idly-by argument. No country helps another develop without considering its own interests. If we want development, we need to bury our desire to become a bridge connecting the two and the non­sensical equidistance idealism. We need to wisely choose one of our neighbors to be our strategic partner. Then, develop­ment will likely follow.

Misguided optimism about neighbors aside, another huge impediment to our economic growth is our total disregard for the rule of law, which is a polite way of saying we are quite lax when it comes to the morality of our leaders and bureaucrats. We have come to accept bribery, embezzlement and nepotism as part and parcel of our democracy. While we may accept all these as normal, it distracts foreign investors. And without Foreign Direct Investment (FDI), a coun­try like Nepal has no way of embarking on economic growth. Since many lead­ers and analysts ether benefit or harbor dreams to benefit from the present cha­os, it is no surprise that hardly anyone is serious about upholding the rule of law.

While the prevalent narrative is that all the previous systems were feudal, unfavorable for economic growth and couldn’t manage affairs with the neigh­bors, we seem to forget we entered a new system over a decade ago. And what are the signs of development or of better things to come? Ten years is a long time during which many constructive things could have been done.

China, for example, made economic reforms in 1978 after the decade-long Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) and was bidding to host the Olympic Games in Beijing in 1998. Japan was bombed to ashes during the Second World War, but it hosted the Olympic Games in 1964. They could do so as their leaders under­stood the importance of a strategic ally or development partner and of the rule of law for their country’s development.

Although we are more than a decade into a new and “better” system, we are still dependent on aid and remittance, while forgetting the importance of major infrastructure projects. We are yet to reconstruct the fallen monuments even almost three years after the earthquake.

Yet our leaders and analysts are optimistic. They must be smoking something.

Despite so much skepticism and uncertainty, in 2017, what was almost-impossible suddenly became the rather easily possible. Nepal successfully held three tiers of elections: local, provincial and federal—a feat most Nepalis and anyone else who cared to watch were perplexed by. In a real sense, successfully conducting three elections in a year would have been a giant pat-on-your-back accomplishment for even the most developed of democ­racies. For this reason, in the eyes of history, 2017 will go down in the books as one that opened up a chapter that no one was confident was even written until we turned the page to find it was.

Perhaps what drove these elections more than anything else was an elu­sive promise of stability. The past two decades were defined by the contrary ‘political instability’, a buzzword inter­nalized by most, often as an excuse for larger state incapacity, incompe­tency, rampant corruption and poor governance. Political instability was unanimously blamed for everything by everyone. As such the dream of a state of ‘political stability’ was one that, in our collective psyche, we considered a precondition to overcome all social, economic and political evils.

The announcement of the Left Alli­ance in the run up to elections, in tan­dem with their message of stability and prosperity, really thrust the public into a mindset that saw for the first time in a good long while, a glimmer of hope. You have two major political forces, i.e. the UML and Maoist Center, put aside their differences to ‘unite in favor of stability and prosperity’. Nothing could sound better for the ravaged and beat Nepali psyche. It seemed that all at once, Nepali politics had changed in an unprecedent­ed way and wiggled in a tiny space for positive governance.

However, there are no clear signs that things are indeed changing. In fact, the forecast shows more of the same. For example, the Nepali Congress and its democratic alliance, who badly lost the elections, are still running the gov­ernment. Instead of making way, step­ping back and going through a process of introspection, Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba is happily steadfast in passing one populist (under-researched and unbudgeted) decision after the next. Albeit a caretaker government, Deuba has so far done little to bring his reign to a close and continues to act as though he has just walked into office with a fresh and popular mandate.

Meanwhile, the victors in this elec­tion are spending the majority of their time squabbling over power sharing compromises instead of focusing on a real plan to deliver on their promised ‘prosperity’. So far, no concrete plans or agendas have been set on how ‘devel­opment’ would be achieved, how these promised railways and industries will be built and sustained and how the income of average Nepalis will be three-fold over 10 years, as promised in the election manifesto. The reality is so dire that two months after already having won on the promise of stability and pros­perity, the leaders are now discussing drafting ‘plans for development’. One can only guess that most of us will have entered old age by the time the discus­sions are finalized, the plans drafted and approved and finally implemented!

Deep down there is an understanding that the promise of stability was just a coy to coax the public to relent in favor of the Left Alliance and that Leftist merg­ers are most often simple temporary opportunistic endeavors. As for the promise of prosperity, a cursory look at the UML and Maoist Center ‘plans’ or lack thereof speak volumes about the superficial and illusive nature of the idea of prosperity. Yet, the promise of both stability and prosperity will undoubted­ly be best tested in the months to come, after which that tiny glimmer of hope which was seen through the year of elections will likely be little more than a memory.