KATHMANDU, NEPAL – Indra Chowk, a lively square in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, is always crowded. Even on the busy footpaths, vendors spread goods ranging from vegetables to clothes on sacks and wait for customers.
“Since two decades, I have supported my family through this business on the footpath,” vendor Laxmi Adhikari says as she struggles to move the large pack of clothing she has brought to sell.
It’s sweltering under the noon sun, and the dust and din from passing vehicles shroud the makeshift market. But Adhikari, 38, arranges her goods to attract customers with a smile on her face.
“This footpath has become my home and my world,” she says. “I will continue to work on the footpath until I die.”
Originally from the Nuwakot district north of Kathmandu, she married at the age of 17. Her new family was big, including her husband’s parents and their four sons and five daughters. Adhikari, who never received formal education, says she was immediately responsible for all the chores in her new house.
At 4 a.m., she began cooking, feeding the family and washing the dishes. Next, she worked in the field, fetched fodder for the cattle and carried firewood from the forest. She also cared for her husband’s younger siblings until 10 p.m.
“I worked very hard, but my in-laws never spoke kindly nor treated me well,” she says.
Adhikari grew tired of depending on others to buy anything she needed.
“Even [though] I worked 18 hours a day, I did not have a single cent at hand, nor did my in-laws acknowledge my hard work,” she says. “Therefore, I decided to leave my house with 100 rupees that I had with me since long.”
So Adhikari, three months pregnant, left her house with $1.15 to find her husband, who had gone to Kathmandu in search of work.
She reached her husband’s rented room in Kathmandu but says her life in the city was soon worse than in the village. Her husband was unemployed, so they struggled to pay rent and buy food. On top of that, her due date was approaching.
“A few of our acquaintances were making their living through the footpath businesses,” she says. “As we couldn’t see any other alternative, we listened to their advice, and my husband and I decided to start the same business.”
Adhikari began by selling slippers on the footpaths of the main business centers of Kathmandu. Short, thin and pregnant at a young age, she recalls that she had to carry loads of goods weighing 80 to 100 kilograms (176 to 220 pounds).
“Even on the day before my delivery, I carried all the goods myself,” Adhikari says. “When you are happy at heart, you do not feel any kind of pain.”
The heavy lifting became worth it when she counted the money she had saved.
“With every day’s saving, I had collected 6,000 [rupees],” she says, amounting to $70 for the first six months of her business venture. “Probably, it was the happiest day of my life, after the day of my marriage.”
She says she was thrilled when she had to spend only 1,200 rupees ($14) of her savings on her postnatal care. Fifteen days after her delivery, she placed the baby under her husband's care at home and got back to her business.
“I think I can earn more than my husband,” Adhikari says. “Therefore, I handed over the child to him and I returned to business.”
Two decades later, she continues her business on a footpath near Indra Chowk. Her husband, who helped her in the business until a few years ago, is now back in the village taking care of his aging parents.
Adhikari runs the business on her own, savoring her independence.
“When I do not have to stretch my hands in front of others for the money, it makes me feel very happy,” Adhikari says.
Adhikari says she’s also happy that she can provide for her in-laws with the money she earns, despite their humiliation of her during the early days of her marriage.
“My in-laws praise and love me as I earn and use my earnings to support the family,” she says.
This includes educating her children.
Adhikari’s oldest son, Suman Adhikari, is now studying information technology in Kathmandu. He is proud of his mother and attributes the financial strength of his family to her hard work. If his mother hadn’t started the business, he would be in the village working in the field instead of studying in the capital.
“In future, I want to expand my mother’s business by opening a big showroom,” he says.
Determined to achieve economic independence, women in Nepal are selling clothing and food along busy city footpaths. Vendors face hazards such as lack of access to bathrooms and exposure to the elements, which can lead to health problems. Because street vending in Kathmandu is legal only in a designated area during certain hours, they must also fend off police. But they receive support from a union that offers business loans and promotes the education of their children so that they have more career options than their mothers.
There are 36,000 street vendors in Nepal, according to the 2008 Nepal Labour Force Survey conducted by the Central Bureau of Statistics. About 15,000 of them are females, 6,000 who work in urban areas and 9,000 in rural areas.
Kumar Sapkota, general secretary for the Nepal Street Vendors Trade Union, an organization dedicated to furthering the rights of its 13,000 members, says there are approximately 20,000 street vendors in the Kathmandu Valley. Females account for 35 percent of them.
About 30 percent of female vendors enter the business because of illiteracy and 21 percent because of unemployment, according to a 2008 study by the Centre for Integrated Urban Development, which works for sustainable urban solutions, and CARE Nepal, an international nongovernmental agency. Nearly 20 percent cited lack of education, and 17.5 percent reported that they didn’t have other skills.
Like Adhikari, Kamala Giri, 36, is also a footpath vendor in Kathmandu. She moved to the capital five years ago from the nearby district of Kavre and started a seasonal fruit business with her husband.
“My lower stomach hurt while working in the fields and carrying loads in the village,” Giri says. “Therefore, I came to Kathmandu and started the business to earn some money.”
Giri, who currently sells lemons, starts her day at 4 a.m. She first goes to Kalimati, the area of the city where one can purchase vegetables and fruits at wholesale prices, to buy the lemons she will sell during the day.
She starts selling by 8 a.m. on the footpath in the New Road area of Kathmandu and doesn’t take a lunch break.
“I feel that if I spend more time in selling, I can have more business,” she says. “Therefore, I do not think about food.”
Even though Giri had a sizable property in her village, she doesn’t regret her decision to work on the footpath.
“More than anything, there is always some cash in hand, and I do not have to spread my hand to beg from others for even little expenses,” Giri says. “Therefore, I do not intend to quit this business.”
Giri makes an average profit of 100 rupees ($1.15) to 200 rupees ($2.30) every day, some days earning more. Pointing to the gold ring in her ear, she says she could afford it thanks to her business.
Still, challenges arise. Female vendors shoulder a double work burden, as they are responsible for both their businesses and domestic work, Sapkota says. They must often bring their children with them to their sales site.
These women must bear the sun and the rain as well as hunger and thirst, he says.
“There is no alternative,” Sapkota says. “We cannot live without earning money.”
Some women turn to alcohol and drugs, he says.
Roadside vendors directly or indirectly incur health problems, says Dr. Manohar Joshi, a professor and physician who practices at Universal College of Medical Sciences and Teaching Hospital in Bhairahawa, southwest of Kathmandu.
Dust, smoke, sunburn and noise pollution are some of the direct effects, he says. As for indirect effects, malnutrition is rampant because of low income and irregular diet. In some cases, bad habits can lead to the transmission of HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases and development of mental problems.
Adhikari says she regularly has a common cold, cough and fever.
“Sitting near the road, we must have inhaled a lot of smoke and dust,” she says. “Who can tell how many diseases it may cause?”
Giri also complains of a cough.
“If it is just [a] common cold, it gets better in a day or two,” she says. “We do not stop working in any case.”
They can’t drink water when they are thirsty or go to the bathroom when they need to, she says. Instead, they must constantly move their business to areas where there are more people.
“Even if we are hungry or thirsty, we sit in the hope that we might get customers,” Giri says.
They also try to move their businesses away from police.
Street vending is legal in Kathmandu. But the Kathmandu Metropolitan City Office, the government’s administrative unit in the city, has prohibited selling goods on footpaths.
The police chase away the street vendors from time to time. Adhikari says she constantly fears being caught.
Accidents, traffic jams and obstruction of pedestrians are the reasons for prohibiting the footpath business, says Raju Pandey, an inspector for the project implementation unit of the Kathmandu Metropolitan City Office.
“The rights of pedestrians are being compromised due to the street vendors,” Pandey says.
The encroachment of footpaths is also ruining the beauty of the city, he says.
The office has permitted the street vendors to set up their stalls after 4 p.m. in the Khula Manch, an open space in central Kathmandu.
“It would be easy if everyone would follow the rules of the government,” Pandey says.
Although the office has provided space for the informal businesses, there is no shelter, drinking water or toilets here.
“As it is only temporary arrangement, there are no such facilities,” Pandey says. “If the government provides such facilities, then KMO would enforce them.”
Despite these challenges, the economic status of female vendors has improved, Sapkota says.
The Nepal Street Vendors Trade Union, which has a gross revenue of approximately 3 million rupees ($34,100), provides loans to the vendors. Loans from the bank require various formalities, and bigger businesses charge high interest rates, Sapkota says. So it is easier and faster for women to get loans from the cooperative.
“Financial independence being a matter of pride, women are increasingly involved,” he says.
Adhikari says she is happy with her ability to buy the food and other goods she wants out of her own income. She asks for improved working conditions so that women can continue to advance in this business.
“If all street vendor women were provided with good space for their business with security, then they would be able to earn more and be more economically empowered,” she says.
The cooperative also aims to ensure that the children of the street vendors obtain a proper education so that they have expanded career options in the future, Sapkota says.
