Remote schooling...

The National Assembly, our nation’s highest legislative body, spent a good 30 minutes yesterday talking about a school in Gasa.

The issue was tabled by the Honourable MP from Gasa, Dasho Damcho Dorji, the other opposition member, on behalf of the people of Gasa. The people want the government to reverse its decision to downgrade Gasa LSS to a primary school. The people argue that if their school is downgraded, fewer of their children will be willing to continue their studies, after completing Class VI, in the boarding school in distant, wetter and hotter Jeyshong.

Lyonpo Thakur Singh, our education minister, claimed that he had consulted the dzongkhag authorities. That’s the problem. He should have consulted the people, not bureaucrats. Civil servants report to, and are accountable to, the government, and, some times, will not represent the best interests of the people.

If Lyonpo Thakur had consulted the local government instead, he would have understood their difficulties and seen their aspirations. And a decision, regardless of what the decision, could have been made jointly.

And the local government would not have raised the issue about Gasa PS in the National Assembly. And its honorable members would not have spent 30 minutes, one-sixth of the total time, talking about a remote school in Gasa.

Decentralize. Please. And strengthen local governments.

(Gasa primary school was upgraded to a junior high school durnig the Eighth Plan. See Kuensel article)

Educating the centre...

Gakiling has 13 villages. Some of the poorest parts of our country can be found in this cluster of villages that lie along the remote parts of upstream Amochu. Together, the 13 villages have just one school – Rangtse Community School, which opened two years ago after Her Majesty Ashi Dorji Wangmo Wangchuck visited the area.

None of the villages is connected by car road. Most don’t even have mule tracks. So the school in Rangtse is not accessible to children living in other villages. And the children can’t live in Rangtse, because the school does not have boarding facilities.

Naturally, the people of Gakiling are anxious. They want schools. They need schools. But they have no idea if their needs will be met during the 10th Plan. They have no idea because no one consulted them.

Education used to be decentralized. And local governments could decide, within the overall education policies and guidelines, where to build their schools. But this is no longer the case. The entire education system will be planned and executed by the centre. That must be the case, because the centre – the education ministry, in this case – has been allocated all the money. And local governments have been given nothing, not even one ngultrum, to develop education in their communities.

During the 10th Plan the Education Ministry will receive Nu 9.5 billion for capital investments alone. Compare this to what has been earmarked for the 20 dzongkhags – Nu 7.2 billion for all their activities; or what has been given to the 205 gewogs combined – just Nu 4.8 billion.

This makes the education ministry very powerful. But its power comes at a high price: decentralization is suspended, and local government is suppressed. That’s not good. Local governments, after all, understand the aspirations of their people better than any expert in Thimphu. And they have much more at stake.

For now, the people of Gakiling are at the mercy of the centre. So are the people of Sombaykha, another gewog with no road and only one proper school. Both, Gakiling and Sombaykha are in my constituency.

Opposition in hot water...

I liked Bhutan Observer’s caricature for two reasons. One, they managed to make me look content and happy.

And two, Gyamtsho, my son, predicted my response. When his friends had expressed concern for me, he had assured them that I would find it funny. What did I do when he showed me the cartoon? I laughed. And the more I looked at it, the more I laughed.

I like the cartoon very much. But they got one thing wrong – the opposition is not “in turmoil”.

I wish we were. If we were in turmoil, it would mean that we were agitated and confused. But that we were alive. And that we were a strong opposition. So if we are in turmoil, Bhutan Observer should, indeed, be amused.

But we are not in turmoil. We are weak. Very weak. And a weak opposition is not good for a vibrant and honest democracy. The opposition has only two members – that’s hardly 4% of the national assembly. So we don’t fool ourselves. We are weak.

However, we work hard. Work honestly. And work diligently. We also work with confidence and courage. And try our very best to provide the constructive opposition that our people expect.

Bhutan observer should not be amused. They should be concerned.

Deleting power...

The “delete” key is powerful. I can undo what I’ve done. It gives me a sense of security. And a sense of power. I can, after all, erase a word, a document, a picture, or even my computer’s memory, by an effortless tap at the “delete” key.

The “delete” key is also dangerous. Once deleted, the memory vanishes into the dark depths of cyber space. That’s where one of my emails went. It was from Europe. From a person who wants to meet me in April. Please send me your email again. Sorry I made a mistake! But, I’ve learned from it. I’ll be more careful from now on.

I learned something else though. What the delete key gives is a false sense of security. And a false sense of power. Artificial memory, once deleted, is out of sight, and out of mind. But, it stays etched on the hard disk, and in the depth of cyber space too. Any whiz kid can fish it out. I’m not good enough, and neither are any of my friends. I am duly humbled.

The “delete” key is dangerous, indeed. Just like politics. Power rests with the people, never with the politicians. That, is one mistake I pray I will never make.

The “delete” key and politics. Both necessary, useful, and even wonderful. As long as we handle both with care, and with a big dose of humility.

(This entry was updated – and completed – with your help. Many thanks for your comments.)

Attic antics...

I went on a fieldtrip today. I went to Thimphu town. Almost every building has an attic. And almost every attic violates Thimphu’s building regulations.

Because they were illegal, earlier attics are discrete. Their builders went to great lengths to hide their attics, to make them look uninhabited.

But because the first attics were not questioned, latter attics have become increasingly bold. Some are quite beautiful. All are displayed fearlessly. And some attics sport attics – doubled storied attics.

Thimphu’s building regulations continue to forbid building attics for habitation. And Thimphu’s builders continue to build more attics for habitation. According to TCC, 160 buildings have “habited attics”. I think this is an understatement. Go at night and you’ll see almost every attic alight – a sure sign of human habitation.

The problem is obvious: Thimphu’s attics are dangerous. They have poor lighting, ventilation and inadequate space. And they may not be structurally safe.

The solution is clear: legalize attics. In fact, require them. They can be quite beautiful – our traditional attics are. And well constructed attics would go a long way to address Thimphu’s growing housing shortage.

We’re building our nation. Let’s build it right. And build it well.

Hidden attic

Fortified attic

Discrete attic

Attic getting bolder

VAST attic

Attic on attic?

Attic on attic!

Beautiful attics

Double storied attic

Brand new attic

New beautiful attic

Attic on attic on attic?

Spot the house without an attic!

Bhutanese bloggers...

Dorji Wangchuk – writer, director, producer, social worker, and owner of a Centennial Radio – has started blogging. His blogs will be good. After all, he has both insight and experience.

His insight comes from the wide range of activities that he readily engages in. And his experience comes from writing columns and op-eds. A good combination to make blogs interesting and useful.

Whatever Matters! – maintained by MJ and Bhutanese Blogger – is another site worth visiting. They specialize in business management and finance.

Then there’s Bhutan, 2008 and Beyond, maintained by Gelay, a photojournalist, and Bhutan 360, a tourism portal.

Share these and other Bhutanese blogs with your family and friends.

(Dorji’s photo is from his website)

Consulting democracy...

The National Assembly has decided to amend the Livestock Act (2001) to remove the ban on the slaughter of animals and the sale of meat during the first and fourth months of our calendar.

I did not support the proposal to amend this Act. I did not support the proposal for a very simple reason – none of us had bothered to consult the monk body. And there are about 15,000 monks. That’s a lot of them. Enough to be taken seriously especially on issues concerning religious matters.

For a vibrant democracy: consult. And consult widely.

Deadly numbers...

My cousin, Lop Nob Tshering, died last week. He was a teacher at Dechenchholing MSS and had barely turned 45. He died at home, suddenly. Family and friends all agree that he died because of alcohol – he was a chronic alcoholic.

No one knows how many people die at home from alcohol related problems. My cousin lived in Thimphu. And yet he died suddenly and at home. Imagine what happens outside Thimphu. Imagine the number of alcohol related deaths that go undetected. That number must surely be much higher than the number of people dying because of alcohol in our hospitals.

And how many people die in our hospitals? In the last four years 606 patients were admitted to the JDWNR Hospital with alcohol related illnesses. 138 of them died there; they never recovered. For many years now, the leading cause of death in the hospital has been alcohol related illnesses.

But of the patients who recovered and were discharged from the hospital, some would have started drinking heavily again, become ill and died without going back to hospital. How many? No one knows.

Then there are people like my late cousin. They may or may not have been to hospital, may or may not have been admitted, but eventually die because of alcohol.

The point is this: no one has a clue. Even the numbers reported by the health minister in the National Assembly yesterday is very different from the information I got from JDWNRH. He reported that of the 1471 people were admitted to JDWNRH in 2007 of alcohol related diseases, 98 of them died. JDWNRH told me that the numbers for 2007 were 167 and 37 respectively.

So first things first: we need reliable data. We need to know how many people are alcoholics; how many have died; the costs, in free medical services, to the government; and the costs to society and the economy. We also need to know why, when and how so many of us become dangerously alcoholic.

Only when we know and accept the gravity of the situation will we be able to formulate clear policies and workable strategies to reduce alcoholism among us.

Then we can get down to the serious business of implementing the policies. And for that here’s good advice from Aum Zekom: “What works is a strong teamwork between concerned public agencies and citizen’s social organizations, supported by compassionate society, and led by a strong political leadership who champions the cause.”

Today’s deadly numbers: The photograph is of the JDWNRH medical ward. Of the 27 patients there today, 7 had liver cirrhosis. Of the 9 patients in the cabins, 3 had liver cirrhosis. All of them were caused by chronic alcoholism.

Without alcohol there would be more happ...

Dorji died a few days ago. He was my classmate in Kanglung. He died of alcohol related problems.

Dorji was among the 75 of us who entered Class XI in Sherubtse College, Kanglung in 1982. Another two of my classmates from this batch have also died – Devi Bhakta and Thinley Penjor. Both of them died from alcoholism.

One of my classmates was recently in the ICU. He’s still recovering from alcohol related complications. At least three more classmates are chronic alcoholics. And many of us are heavy drinkers.

Alcohol has already killed three of my classmates. And it threatens to kill three more in the near future.

This is just the tip of the iceberg among my classmates.

And the very tip of a very large iceberg in our beloved Drukyul – with less alcohol there would be more happiness.

What’s centralized...

Consider this: Nu 38.32 billion had been budgeted for capital investments in the 9th Five Year Plan. Of that, Nu 9.32 billion had been budgeted for the dzongkhags and gewogs. That was about 24.37% of the total capital outlay.

Now consider this: Nu 73.61 billion has been budgeted for capital investments in the 10th Five Year Plan. Of this, Nu 12 billion has been budgeted for the dzongkhags and gewogs. That is only 16.30% of the total capital outlay.

In 2002, after two decades of decentralization, the government was prepared to earmark almost a quarter of the total capital outlay to Local Governments.

Today, with democracy, the government should be giving proportionately more to Local Governments. In fact, at only 16.30% it’s preparing to give less. A lot less.

This reeks of centralization.

We need to reconsider how resources are distributed. We need to seriously reconsider our priorities.