Most conjure up images of uncleanliness when asked to consider the environment of a developing country. It was no different when I was preparing to embark on my three-month gap year program in Nepal. Inevitably, with a less stable political system and weaker economy, environmental concerns are a lower priority for the government and non-profit organizations.
The visions I had proved true when we drove by piles of trash littered on the sidewalk, heaps of dust lifting off the ground as motorcycles sped by, and the rancid smell of plastic burning next door. However, while these encounters confirmed my beliefs that developing countries still lack the basic facilities and infrastructure to operate sustainably, these instances were not sights I had even considered before. Prior to this experience, my relationship with sustainability and environmental advocacy involved simple changes such as boycotting single-use materials, reducing meat consumption, working within a circular economy and closed cycle. But if those were the only standards for measuring environmental progress, it appears that Nepal is doing a much better job than most other countries, including Hong Kong.
While at first glance, it seemed they were doing many things ‘wrong’, a closer look alerted me to the great deal of things they were doing that were in fact better for the environment. For example, upon visiting the ancient town of Bhaktapur, I vividly recall walking by a group of children playing ping pong in a courtyard. This ping pong set-up, however, was not your usual glossed over table with a durable string net and flashy rackets. Their ‘net’ was made out of scattered stones and eaten corn cobs. And the racket was their hands. Instead of wasting resources on something that was new, they were repurposing items that would otherwise be discarded—to advance their simple mission of having fun.
Similarly, while trekking through the Rolwaling mountain range during the festival season of Dashain, not only were we spoiled by the surrounding pristine, unsullied nature, we also passed by several swing sets constructed out of bamboo stalks, wood, and rope. We saw many children happily perched on these swing seats, which were attached by a range of natural materials.
These concoctions may be substitutes for the ‘real’ objects, but they served the same purpose, to the same extent. For some, the idea of using these materials as opposed to newer, more synthetic ones may seem ‘backwards’. But being made with accessible materials didn’t make them any less durable or functional; instead, what it did achieve was being more sustainable.
I’ve always aspired to live a low-impact lifestyle—where, instead of buying new goods, I resort to existing possessions to fulfil my needs. But I now realize that this is what these people in the town and villages have been doing all along. The fact that they’ve been doing so without even trying has simply reinforced the lingering thought in my head that environmental damage is heavily correlated with privilege. And, ironically, our ‘solutions’ happen to mimic the regular actions of those communities we negatively affect.
Nepal is also a country largely dominated by the agricultural industry. As I saw when visiting the Terai region, farmlands are ubiquitous and, naturally, so is the profession of farming. More specifically, the common practice in Nepal remains the traditional method of subsistence farming, which differs from the industrial, machine-propelled industry in countries like the U.S.—where the cattle’s diets are commonly altered from their natural grass-fed diets to that of grains such as corn and soy to accelerate growth. And this is largely problematic, for reasons mentioned in this article.
Therefore, since plenty of the meat and vegetables in Nepal are locally produced, consuming them is already far less detrimental than usual. Some issues that come up may include poor soil fertility management and an insufficient supply of nutrients, but the preservation of traditional farming methods ultimately makes meat consumption a more sustainable feat. Moreover, according to The World Factbook, 81.3% of the Nepalese population are Hindu, and those who conform to Hindu beliefs tend to avoid beef consumption. As I explain in The Easiest Way to Reduce Your Meat Consumption, this diet change goes a long way.
While living in the local villages and farms, the leftover food scraps were given to chickens to consume, forming a system whereby one’s waste fuels a continuous food line. In many regions, disposable pads did not exist, and the common solution for female menstruation was the use of a cloth. In most areas, toilet paper doesn’t exist; instead, every stall is equipped with a bucket of water for occupants to wipe with their hands.
While I’m unsure how the use of water compares to the absence of paper, all these observations led me to reconsider the definition of sustainability and the many components this entails. What does sustainability mean? And does being sustainable in one way hinder it from being so in another? It appears that Nepal’s damage is negligible in the grand scheme of things, and this only reminds me that what we’re doing to alleviate this issue may not be targeting the core issues of environmental degradation. While many Nepalese I encountered are—perhaps not consciously, but still somewhat effectively—doing their part at being ‘eco-warriors’ (in short, someone who actively minimizes waste in their day-to-day life), because our relatively lavish lifestyles are inherently damaging, the effects of pollution faced in Nepal are largely are a product of our mindless actions. Our current environmental destruction is being displaced to developing countries; so, instead of picking at their situation to see how they can be fixed, maybe we should turn to our own to set a good precedent. It’s time to start racking up our efforts if we hope to see a world transformed.