Nothing moves quickly in Nepal...

...except rumours.

There are unsettling moments when, perched on my bike, I realize that the road around me has become suddenly empty, the bustle evaporated and the throngs of glossy, underpowered motorcycles abruptly nonexistent. I usually realize then that everyone else knows something I don't, and that it's time for me to get off the roads, preferably home and certainly out of the way until whatever calamity passes.

All Kathmandu feels much like that this week, and it's likely to get worse. I returned last night from a whitewater rafting adventure (which left me bruised and sore and much entertained) to discover that Nepal has entered a long-incubating political and constitutional crisis from which it's very unlikely to emerge without fresh scars. The government has fallen in all but name, and will most likely officially die tomorrow afternoon. The fallen and their opponents are all mobilizing their professional thugs to contest whatever outcome on the streets. Violence is very much in the air, and I'm more than mildly nervous.

It's worth noting early on that, reportage being the unreliable beast that it is in Nepal, and rumours so often fantastically elaborate and ill-founded, my understanding of the facts on the ground is incomplete in many places and no doubt downright wrong in many others. Here's a little background, streamlined and simplified, as best I understand it:

The Maoists, officially the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) or CPN-M, are the largest of several extreme-left parties that emerged the principal victors of Nepal's 2008 elections. Those elections were one of the steps that ended the decade-long Nepalese civil war, behind which the Maoists (but by no means only them) were a principal driving force. The Maoists formed a government in coalition with several of their ideological near-brethren such as the United Marxist-Leninists (Nepal being one of the adorably few remaining countries where the myriad flavours of Marxism are goofily thought to be practically different). Ideological opponents such as the Nepali Congress Party, which ruled Nepal none too successfully for many years, made up the large bundle of minority representation in Nepal's fragile and fledgling Parliament.

Unfortunately for the Maoists, they've had a rather unpleasant but utterly inevitable lesson, which they might have vitally learned in advance if they hadn't been blinded by discredited ideology: toppling a government and running one require radically different skill sets. Enormous rifts, which I will mostly ignore for now, opened between the ruling coalition partners, and between the government and the opposition. The most germane was regarding the Nepali Army, a well-trained, highly-disciplined and very proud force which was asked to integrate the irregular combatants of the Maoist People's Liberation Army (PLA), the fanatically dedicated but rather more ragtag guerrilla force with which the Maoist's waged their ten-year insurgency. The Nepal Army, as conservative as any you'll find (and armies are a conservative lot) chafed at the thought of inducting the tattered PLA, let alone giving them command posts. Chief among the objectors was the Army Chief of Staff, General Rookmangud Katawal, the country's top military official and one of the few people with the means to topple the government.

The Maoists, led by Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal, lead instigator of the war, demanded the sacking of General Katawal, who unsurprisingly refused to step down, leading to a month or so of speculation that Katawal would simply remove the Maoists from power himself, with the loyal Army behind him. The Maoists' coalition partners, fearful of this very event, urged the PM to abandon his plan, instead allowing Katawal to serve out the remaining five months until his planned retirement. No dice. The Prime Minister unilaterally declared that the General was officially out of a job, though the authority over the Army lies with the President (who is not a Maoist and rejected the move).

Here's where things take a turn for the byzantine and the purpose of my long-winded exposition becomes clear. The Maoists have no constitutional authority to take any action without the support of their coalition partners - they simply haven't the votes, which is precisely why coalitions are formed in the first place. But, visibly indignant that anyone would doubt their supremacy, they "fired" Katawal anyways, attempting to rule by decree rather than democracy. Several things happened:

1. The President, of the opposition Nepali Congress party, told Katawal to defy the Maoists.
2. Katawal, a proud man, ignored the Maoist edict.
3. Most provocative, the Maoist's coalition partners, incensed that the CPN-M would attempt to rule by decree and override their position, abandoned the coalition, leaving the Maoists without the votes to form a government.

And so: The Maoists no longer lead a majority coalition. The Nepal Army is openly ignoring their commands. A non-confidence vote is expected tomorrow to formally strip the Maoists of their government status.

In most Western countries in this state, we'd see a flurry of furious politicking and horse-trading as all concerned scramble to form a new government. But this is Nepal, and the Prime Minister has previously said that if the Maoists ever lose power by legal means, they'll simply pick up their guns again and reclaim it the way they prefer. It's a credible threat; ever since the war ended, many of the Maoist's grunts have been visibly itching to get back to guerrilla combat. They've discovered, as I've previously mentioned, that tearing around the country blowing up government offices, robbing villagers and taking potshots at soldiers is a great deal more fun and sexy than the drudgery of actually writing and implementing policy. Many are simply looking for an excuse, and they've got one now.

Scattered protests broke out around Kathmandu yesterday while I was riding white water in the North, and the soot from burnt tires was thick on the streets in front of the colleges that I passed on the way to work this morning. By 11AM, it became clear that worse was likely to come this afternoon, and with the rapid consent of my employers I decided to go home rather than try to cross the city during protests. As I rode through unnervingly thin traffic, Nepalis on the sidewalk moved with uncharacteristic speed and purpose, and many clustered in anxious knots around radios or people professing new knowledge of the unfolding situation.

I passed groups of surly but so far nonviolent moving rallies, a few hundred strong each, waving red Maoist flags. By the time they converged on the centre of town, they were numbered at least three or four thousand, growing angrier and visibly seeking provocation. I passed them and went quickly home.

The Maoist Prime Minister is scheduled to address the nation right now - I'll know what he says when the first English translations appear online. I'd love to believe he'll urge calm or even resign, chastened, but he's never seemed the sort. He considers himself proudly forged in war; his self-granted nom de guerre, Prachanda, means "The Fierce One". I don't believe he's ever marshaled his considerable charisma in service of peace rather than conflict, and I have no good reason to think that, with the power he so long craved now slipping from his grasp, he'll embrace reason and calm.

There are innumerable rumours flooding around Nepal, so quick and scary and of such uncertain origins that I won't begin to list them here. I am, all things considered genuinely nervous about what's to come; street violence is almost certain and days of unrest seem unavoidable. I am, however, also safe. I have days' worth of food and fuel at home, and I won't be going to work if it's dangerous to cross the city. I'm reasonably well plugged in to the legitimate news of the country, and I work for an organization with a excellent protection plan honed by a decade of continuous and successful operation during the war. I'll be evacuated if necessary, but I expect it won't be.

But there's no denying that I am nervous about what's next for Nepal and for my time here, particularly if the war begins again. I will be blogging as honestly and as often as safety and technology allow.

This will surely be interesting.