Legal Realism at the Kathmandu DMV

The “Nepal Stress” is starting to get to me. “Nepal Stress,” as a friend of mine and I tried to describe it last night, is the feeling you get when things just can’t get done. People move through business at a much slower pace here (a couple of my co-workers are exceptions to this, but even with them, things often take more time than they would in most American offices.) Often, you need one person to do something, or one thing to get to you, and it just won’t happen. I nearly called in sick today, since my stomach was bothering me (nothing serious, but not uncommon here either) and looking at how my day has been going (it’s about 11 am now) I probably should have. My supervisor (who I often don’t see all day) is out. The head advocate, (who I would normally go to get explanations of untranslated/untranslatable Nepali legal terms) is out (actually, as I finish this up, he just got here, but he’s meeting with two visitors). To finish one of the two sections in my report that are not even in the presentable draft stage yet, I need to get my hands on a June 2005 World Bank report. This is one of the two most significant studies of Caste and Religious exclusion in Nepal done in the last five years (the other is a Center for Human Rights and Global Justice report, but that one focuses on the Civil War). Here, at what is one of the best-known Public Interest Litigation groups in Kathmandu, we have one copy. Our president and founder left it at home today. The only other section that needs significant work is recommendations, so I need to finish the first section before then. The other American intern, who I could at least ask to go over what I’ve written so far, is out sick. Nepal stress. I guess I’ll go see if the Indian Supreme Court website is working. If it is, which happens about once a week, then I can at least pull some older cases. I would do the same for Nepal, except in addition to the fact that they almost never translate the cases, the local equivalent of the Federal Reporter hasn’t been working, even in Nepali, for about 6 months.

In the past week or so, I’ve had the “privilege” of riding on a minibus, where the ticket collectors hang out the side door and the front door is held on by a u-clamp, on the back of a motorcycle, and through the high point of the monsoon in a 1983 suzuki. Really, a motorcycle is the best way to explain how chaotic shit is here, as you have just about the time to recognize the basic shape of things that you might hit before you have to get out of the way. Basically, the thoughts going through your head are something like “car, truck, bump, dog, child, car, rickshaw, cow, truck, dog, child, bump, pothole, lychee salesman, child, dog, car, truck, dog.”

Therefore, in honor of Llewellyn’s essay on thrusts and parries, I’ve decided to compile a list of driving rules for Kathmandu and their responses, in case anyone reading this should happen to find themselves here:

Thrust:	Parry:
Drive defensively.	Sometimes the best defense is a good offense.
Always use your turn signals.	Turn signals will only confuse other drivers.
Only honk for oncoming danger.	There’s always oncoming danger.
Stay in your lane.	What’s a lane?
Don’t hit a cow.	Seriously. Don’t fucking hit a cow.

Two last things: I got a working phone here a couple days ago. If anyone desperately needs to reach me, in case of something along the scale of an earthquake, a fire, or a plague of locusts, my number here is +977 (0)98038-43558.

I’ve also gotten a couple of requests for certain topics for posts. While I’m not short of things to write about, if anyone is particularly curious about something (food, culture, the inability of the rickshaw driver near my hotel to understand that I don’t need a ride anywhere) put up a comment and I’ll get to it…