12 images Created 20 Aug 2011
NEPAL MAOIST REBELS
A trip though the Himalayan Kingdom of Nepal was like stepping into an imaginary rabbit hole that dragged us up and down narrow paths, a kind of Alice in Wonderland.
We trekked through the bumpy back roads of Nepal, outside government control. Hoping to find Maoist rebels who opposed the monarchy and had taken up arms.
When just about everyone else has given up on communism, this impoverished corner of the world finds it flourishing. The Maoists are building agricultural cooperatives and following programs once espoused by Mao Zedong.
A short flight from Nepalganj took us into the mountainous district of Rukum, where despite the odds, the Maoists have created a place of their own.
We passed the final military checkpoint started to walk. We were never alone. One or two people always attached themselves to us. They wanted to know where we were from, where we were going and what we wanted to see.
Rudra, our fixer, warned us that they were spies. Spies seemed to be all over the valley, figuring out who was a government spy, who was a Maoist and who was just an extremely curious villager, bored by daily routine, was nearly impossible.
After a three-day trek through the hills to meet the leaders of the movement. We met contacts who led us to new contacts. We were questioned by senior and junior Maoists. We became tiny against the tall mountains and long winding roads. This is a place set away from our globalized world, lacking in modern infrastructure. What you harvest is what you eat. The noise of cars and the refrigerators grinding are gone.
A Maoist guide arrived at the mud hut where we were staying, We hiked for five days, following young Maoist soldiers, ideologues and an assortment of nameless faces, meeting up at seemingly random points.
On the fifth day we made it to the town where we finally would see Maoist troops coming down the mountains. At 3 p.m., the 2nd battalion of the people's army came down from the lush mountains, 300 of them, fully armed and in uniform, dancing their way through the crowds and waving rifles in the air.
Villagers draped their necks with flower garlands as they put their right fist up in the official Maoist salute. The villagers, who were polite but tense, danced with the militiamen
Here communists wore capitalist symbols, Nike swoosh T-shirts, Titanic movie bandanas. Contradictions ran deeper: The festive atmosphere commemorated a battle in which many rebels were slain. Teenagers smiled, holding their guns, their faces scarred by war. "This is not the Everest trek, this is the Maoist heartland", a local man taunted us.They welcomed us. But warned: "The unassuming traveler can be caught between the crossfire of the government and Maoist armies."
I wasn't caught in crossfire and I was never truly afraid. Like Alice, waking from her long and loopy dream, I wonder how much the characters and danger were real or imagined. Either way, it was a magical journey into a land of beauty that few people will ever see.
We trekked through the bumpy back roads of Nepal, outside government control. Hoping to find Maoist rebels who opposed the monarchy and had taken up arms.
When just about everyone else has given up on communism, this impoverished corner of the world finds it flourishing. The Maoists are building agricultural cooperatives and following programs once espoused by Mao Zedong.
A short flight from Nepalganj took us into the mountainous district of Rukum, where despite the odds, the Maoists have created a place of their own.
We passed the final military checkpoint started to walk. We were never alone. One or two people always attached themselves to us. They wanted to know where we were from, where we were going and what we wanted to see.
Rudra, our fixer, warned us that they were spies. Spies seemed to be all over the valley, figuring out who was a government spy, who was a Maoist and who was just an extremely curious villager, bored by daily routine, was nearly impossible.
After a three-day trek through the hills to meet the leaders of the movement. We met contacts who led us to new contacts. We were questioned by senior and junior Maoists. We became tiny against the tall mountains and long winding roads. This is a place set away from our globalized world, lacking in modern infrastructure. What you harvest is what you eat. The noise of cars and the refrigerators grinding are gone.
A Maoist guide arrived at the mud hut where we were staying, We hiked for five days, following young Maoist soldiers, ideologues and an assortment of nameless faces, meeting up at seemingly random points.
On the fifth day we made it to the town where we finally would see Maoist troops coming down the mountains. At 3 p.m., the 2nd battalion of the people's army came down from the lush mountains, 300 of them, fully armed and in uniform, dancing their way through the crowds and waving rifles in the air.
Villagers draped their necks with flower garlands as they put their right fist up in the official Maoist salute. The villagers, who were polite but tense, danced with the militiamen
Here communists wore capitalist symbols, Nike swoosh T-shirts, Titanic movie bandanas. Contradictions ran deeper: The festive atmosphere commemorated a battle in which many rebels were slain. Teenagers smiled, holding their guns, their faces scarred by war. "This is not the Everest trek, this is the Maoist heartland", a local man taunted us.They welcomed us. But warned: "The unassuming traveler can be caught between the crossfire of the government and Maoist armies."
I wasn't caught in crossfire and I was never truly afraid. Like Alice, waking from her long and loopy dream, I wonder how much the characters and danger were real or imagined. Either way, it was a magical journey into a land of beauty that few people will ever see.
