Daybreak in the park

By Anup Ojha

DEC 27 -

Ujali Majhi picks up the pot of tea she has been boiling over her little stove, and pours it quickly into glasses to be handed out to her customers, who have so far been huddling together to keep warm this cold winter morning in Kantipath. It is 6 am, and most of the people surrounding the little portable snack shop in the bus park are foreigners, mixed with a few Nepalis. As Majhi distributes the steaming glasses of tea, her husband serves out the doughnuts, cake, boiled eggs, cigarettes and other snacks that make up the shop’s wares.

This is a crucial time of the day for the couple—it’s when most of their earnings come in. In one hour, the two make an average of around Rs 600 to 800. Of course, they’re also surrounded by competition, which can get a little annoying, according to Majhi. There are about 20 such snack-hawkers in the immediate vicinity, vending similar goods to early morning arrivals. And aside from those selling food, there are the newspaper men with daily papers piled onto their arms, and others pushing out things like torches, caps and gloves.

It’s what you’ll find every morning in the Jamal bus park between the hours of 5.30 to 7 am, the area transformed into a hive of activity as passengers and drivers of the more than three dozen tourist buses lined up in a queue from Jamal to Narayanhiti Chowk arrive to set off on distant adventures, but find they have some time to kill. And so it is that one will see faces from all around the world in this one little spot at this time of day, people lugging around trekking equipment and big backpacks that look fit to burst.  

“There’s something about being here, surrounded by all these folks who are going to all these far-off corners of the country—some for the first time—that is exciting,” says Kala Wati Neupane, a development officer based in Kapilvastu, who  is headed home to her native Chitwan, after having spent some time in Kathmandu. “It’s like their enthusiasm is contagious and affects even those of us who’ve made the journey many times before…it makes you feel like a part of a special community of travellers.”

Past seven, however, one can see a dramatic change in the atmosphere here. With the buses roaring off into their respective directions, and the vendors packing up their things to move on to other parts of the city, the park is instantly deserted. Much as a passenger arriving after 7 am would find no buses to board here, small businesses who miss out on the peak hour too would find no customers in sight, and would probably risk being chased away by patrolling cops to boot. “You have to get here on time if you want to earn any money for the day. Once the hour is up, most snack-hawkers go elsewhere to set up shop,” says Majhi, originally from Paanchkhal in Kavrepalanchowk, and who has been living in Jyatha, Thamel, for 10 years now. During the day, Majhi runs a snack stall in a corner of Kantipath while her husband does the same close by.

The couple wishes they could set up permanently at the bus park, without having to rush away at a moment’s notice. But because the area has not been officially designated a ‘bus park’ by the Nepal government—although it has long been used as one,  since 1992, in fact—it means there are few facilities available for small businesses like theirs. With no restrooms or covered areas, it can get very difficult, especially during the rainy seasons. “It sort of sprang up out of convenience, as many things do in this country,” says Gobinda Gurung, the executive director of TAG Nepal Expedition, a trekking company. “It’s very close to the tourist hub of Thamel, so for an hour a day, it serves as a bus park.”

Passengers too, while grateful for the comfort of tea and snacks, say it would be good to have a few more services on offer at the park to make the experience a little easier. David Walken from the UK, munching on some cake from one of the vendors before heading off for a week-long trip to Pokhara, says that although he is happy to indulge in such inexpensive treats while waiting, he wishes there was at least a toilet or a proper place to sit in the meantime. “It’s hard having to stand where you have all these bags and things with you; it seems like it would be so easy to remedy,” he says. Gurung reiterates this, adding that by not looking into the matter, and ignoring constructive criticism, tourism authorities are putting forth a very negative image of the country.

“The tourism sector contributes so significantly to the economy, but the government doesn’t seem the least bit interested in streamlining the facilities we could be offering to our guests,” says Rajan Bhujel, the president of the Tourist Bus Association Nepal. “We have tempo parks and bus parks all over…how hard could it be to provide a separate tourist bus park?” Bhujel cites the examples of such parks in Chitwan and Pokhara and the comfort these spaces have rendered to the tourists in these places. “It’s strange that we don’t have that here in the Capital.”

Until room is made for such spaces, vendors will continue to haul their stores in and out of the temporary park each day while passengers spill around their rides, confused and disorganised. For Majhi and her husband, it’s nice to hope for better facilities at some point in the future, but the cold, hungry hordes are already calling for hot tea and there is little time to dwell on much else.