One local from Bung, another village in Mahakulung, told me the powers of a nokchho are rooted not only in the spiritual world, but in wisdom developed after generations of close observation and interaction with the land. “Looking at insects under the stone and soil… may seem superstitious and even mythical to some, but there are reasons behind these traditions,” he said.
“If termites are seen, it is believed that crops may suffer from pests – termites naturally destroy wood and plants, after all. If the soil is wet, it is taken as a sign of fertility, and a good harvest is expected. If the land is dry, drought is predicted. And if earthworms are seen, people say there will be more rain that year,” he explained.
“These may not be documented in science books,” he added, “but they’re not entirely baseless. They come from centuries of lived experience and careful observation of natural patterns by our ancestors.” He did, though, agree that this way of passing traditions down means their accuracy is now compromised, a result of fewer people studiously participating in activities and rituals like the tos due to a lack of interest.
Adapting to climate change
Mahakulung is home to a population of nearly 12,000, according to the 2021 Nepal census. While a majority now work in teaching, government jobs, business or as trekking guides, agriculture is still important to the community.
In the region’s harsh and cold terrain, locals grow crops like millet, buckwheat, maize and potatoes as staples. Cash crops like cardamom and tea are also cultivated, and kiwi fruit, previously unheard of, has gained popularity in recent years due to its suitability in the local climate.
However, the changing weather, environmental shifts and population growth have generally made achieving good yields difficult. Although modern inputs such as pesticides and chemical fertilisers are available, these are seen as long-term threats to soil and human health.
One of the farmers from Bung described how traditional practices are being altered: “Previously, after two years of maize cultivation, we left the land fallow in order for it to regain fertility. Now, due to growing population, that’s not possible.” Instead, they plant legumes – soybean, lentils and wheat – which restore soil fertility through the bacteria in the nodules of their roots.
Trees such as Nepalese alder and kutmero are also valued for their soil-enriching properties. But buckwheat, though a staple, is planted with caution as it is believed to deplete soil nutrients. The tilling of the fields for maize, meanwhile, follows a strict calendar aligned with plant growth.
The Kulung community have a common belief that land should not be disturbed unnecessarily. “If you dig a pit and leave it empty, your life will also become hollow like that pit,” goes a local proverb. One local explained that unfilled pits collect water, weaken the soil and make landslides more likely. Generally, deep-rooting trees are planted, and shallow-rooting trees are avoided, especially in landslide-prone zones.
Amidst changing agricultural practices and emerging new beliefs, the community’s resilience lies in its ability to adapt while remaining rooted in its ancestral knowledge and communal practices, such as tos. To them, these practices are not just a ceremonial feast or recreational activity, but rather a deliberate effort to live in harmony with nature and promote communal prosperity.
Elders in the community express concern about whether these rituals will survive due to the decreasing participation of younger generations and shifting priorities such as migration to urban areas, as well as modern influences including technology.
Still, not all hope is lost. Within the crowd at this year’s yau tos in Chemsi, alongside the elders was a 27-year-old participant who was deeply engaged.
“It’s our responsibility as youth to carry forward the legacy left by our ancestors,” he told me.
In this simple affirmation is a sign that younger generations are beginning to recognise the value of these customs, not merely as traditional practices, but as valuable skills that have been shaped by the struggles of their ancestors, and now entrusted to them.
This article was originally published on Dialogue Earth under a Creative Commons licence.
