JUNE 24, 2018
Chitwan National Park
Conservation is an auxiliary Nepal Army duty. Its two primary duties are to defend the country from outside threats and to assist the government in maintaining internal security. And yet it’s difficult to keep the pecking order in mind, once you’ve been embedded with armed patrols in the Bardiya and Chitwan jungles. That’s because the army is preforming at such high levels in the national parks.
For one thing, its pursuance in preserving Nepal’s wildlife and forest resources is frontloaded with innovation and genuine enthusiasm. What might have been a “duty calls” boilerplate conservation plan has evolved into a program that has been recognized as the advance guard of conservation.
The World Wildlife Fund (WWF) certainly thinks so: Nepal Army units and personnel have been the recipients of a long list of WWF’s Abhram Conservation Awards. As of this writing, Conservation Assured – Tiger Standards (CA-TS), an international review process that assesses excellence in tiger site management, has given its seal of approval to only two reserves worldwide. One of them is Chitwan National Park.
Like Major Karki and other officers I met in both Bardiya and Chitwan, Lieutenant Colonel Lokesh K.C. exemplifies the army’s determination to perpetuate a stellar reputation.
Lokesh is the Officiating Commandant of the Nature Conservation School, one of the army’s more recent innovations. Located in Kasara, it’s within walking distance from Army Headquarters. The school – the first of its kind – was created three years ago, in 2015.
The school’s initial objective was to prepare soldiers for their unique duties in Chitwan prior to being deployed. The institution has grown and now provides nine different types of training for NA soldiers, including: how to minimize personal life-threatening risks once they go out on patrols, how to support wildlife research works, how to conduct wildlife census, and how to control encroachment, illegal poaching and deforestation, among other conservation-specific issues.
Beyond that, the school has developed into a joint conservation institution, which means – in addition to army personnel – park officials, conservation partners and other civilian stake-holders work hand-in-hand. The Social Service syllabus includes increasing conservation awareness within local communities, afforestation, repairing and renovating schools and shrines, assisting health centers in the park and the buffer zones, assisting medical care and water supply, and construction of bridges and service roads.
The school’s third course of study covers disaster management. Training programs target the specific challenges that occur in Nepal’s floodplains throughout the rainy season. Lt. Col. Lokesh and I discussed the destruction incurred by the most recent monsoon.
By August 2017, at the peak of the monsoon, incessant flooding had inundated huge swathes of the southern plains, damaging roads, cutting off access to communities, creating widespread power outages, devastating crops, killing at least 130 people and displacing tens of thousands. Army rescue teams were at the vanguard of response efforts for people affected by the catastrophe.
But the flooding took its toll on the wildlife population as well. The torrents were powerful enough to sweep 4000-pound rhinos downstream and across the southern border. Once the flood waters receded, Chitwan soldiers were able to retrieve seven rhinos discovered in the Bihar state of India. Aided by 100 Indian wildlife officials, Nepal Army loaded the tranquilized beasts into crates and trucked them back to their home in Chitwan National Park, 150 kilometers to the north.
Lt. Col. Lokesh is well suited for his job. To some extent he acts as an emissary to the civilian population. He’s smart and amiable, a combination that obviously lends itself to interacting with environmentalists and locals alike. He is also driven by a steely sense of purpose, committed to the school’s expansion strategies, one of which is to invite foreign student officers for specialized trainings. He took me on a tour of the facilities, centered around a domed hall, spacious enough to accommodate large groups of trainees.
The building is situated on a slight promontory within a few steps of the Rapti River. We walked over to the ledge of the vertical embankment and paused for a moment to view the river – significantly smaller during the dry months. 20 feet below us, a rhino lolled in the shallows next to the bank. Its one-horned head pivoted toward us. The rest of its body was entirely submerged. With semi-prehensile lips, it grasped an aquatic plant stem, bit off the top and began to chew.
The opposite riverbank was a sprawling sand-and-pebble shoal. (According to Lokesh, the sandbar would be entirely underwater come monsoon season, transforming our vista into an expansive lake.) He pointed at something fifteen-feet-long near the edge of the receding riverbank. “See that?” he asked.
I did see something, but It was identical to the color of the sandbank and I’m nearsighted. At that distance the object in question was out of focus. I hazarded a guess. Whatever it was, it was motionless, certainly not a living thing. Without too much conviction, I proposed that it was a tree trunk that had been washed ashore.
Lokesh laughed. “Gharial. Out in the open is the best place to hide. Come on, I’ll show you some gharials up close.”
And with that, we proceeded to the Gharial Conservation and Breeding Center, not far from the Nature Conservation School.
to be continued...
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