The seismic shifts have subsided, the number of deaths and
casualties have plateaued, and international headlines have all but
disappeared.... Sadly, the aftermath of the earthquake and over 300 aftershocks as
felt by over ¼ of Nepal’s population of 28-million remains a startling reality.
The new challenges are both violent and silent and will ultimately affect most
vulnerable populations including 1.7 million children, newborns and an
estimated 160,000 pregnant women in the affected areas.
Leaving the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu on the 31st
of May I looked out the taxi window and began a long journey of starting to
work my way through a complex set of emotions. Orange and blue tarps still
scattered like patchwork along the streets; mothers crawling out of their tents
with crying hungry children in their wake, men sweeping the dusty streets in
the early morning light. How lucky (?) I was to be able to just ‘leave’ and
return to the UK when so many millions of people have no choice but to face a
harsh reality.
For many people each new tectonic twitch heightens the
instability and uncertainty. Just last week a 4.4-magnitude tremor shook parts
of Kathmandu, sending the birds screeching into the air and the children
screaming into the cover of their tarpaulin camps. It was yet another
unnecessary reminder of what had happened – and what may yet lie ahead.
There's also the ‘invisible’ silent aftermath - the
earthquake’s impact on mental health. Mental health experts say those most
vulnerable to developing prolonged mental health conditions are children, the
disabled, and the elderly. Sadly, many of these people don’t have access to
councillors or professionals to help cope with mental stress and grief. There
are countless stories of men, women and children who become paralysed with fear
at the sound of loud noises, become overwhelmed by crowds, fear enclosed
places, and have a constant ‘earthquake hangover’ – the feeling that the ground
is perpetually moving, a temporary inner-ear reaction to the earthquake and
constant aftershocks.
The monsoon has started with a vengeance with torrential rains,
thunder, lightning and hail. In just four months, between June - September, 85%
of Nepal’s annual precipitation of 1,500-3,000mm will fall. Last week in a
precursor to the monsoon I watched as the sky grew dark and rolled thick with
thunder and lightning. With each almighty crack the building shook from above
whilst the aftershocks rumbled the earth from below. I felt well and truly put
in my place, with an all too familiar ‘earthquake adrenaline’ pulsing through
my veins. The wind began to pick up and across the horizon a flurry of
destroyed orange, yellow and blue tents and tarps could be seen flying through
the sky. And this was just the beginning. I can’t even begin to imagine the
terror of children and families cowering from the elements as their flimsy
shelters were ripped from their frames.
The monsoon rains will trigger devastating landslides.
Whilst the mountains tremble their slopes become increasingly unstable – all
that is needed is water and gravity to complete the vicious cycle. From my
brief visit to the Khumbu in mid-May it was clear that the instability of the
slopes and the crumbling, deteriorating mountain trails would be hard-hit by
the monsoon rains. Even sections of the
well-trodden ‘Everest trail’ such as after Phakding bore visible evidence of
instability and landslides. Many relief efforts to hard-hit and remote
districts such as Ghorka, Sindhupalchok and Langtang have been thwarted by
unstable slopes and devastating landslides. Additionally, the monsoon will also
force the country’s few helicopters to be grounded – slowing down the delivery
of much needed aid to the vulnerable.
In the departures lounge at the airport I saw another
national headline highlighting an issue that stopped me in my tracks – the trafficking
of women and children. Tens of thousands of young women from regions devastated
by the earthquake in Nepal are being targeted by human traffickers supplying a
network of brothels across south Asia. Many children are being picked up and
taken abroad by traffickers posing as relief workers. Many ‘tent cities’ are
now guarded by police offers stopping any children accompanied by an adult.
Over the past few weeks I feel as though I’ve seen humanity at its best –
people stepping in, risking their lives, helping those in need… but then I see
headlines like this. How can some people be so heartless?
I’ve been back home for over a week now. It’s strange –
whilst in Nepal I’d been so immersed in the earthquake relief efforts, the
continuous aftershocks, seeing destroyed buildings and the headlines in the
local papers, that I hadn’t really imagined or considered life ‘outside’ of the
‘earthquake bubble’. I knew that it would be a shock to reintegrate into ‘normal
life’ but I hadn’t really reflected on what aspect would be the most difficult.
I think it’s a feeling of helplessness and trying to balance
between getting back into my original, usual ‘work-life routine’ and
integrating the experiences of the past 2 months whilst ensuring that, like the
international headlines, my efforts don’t taper off and disappear. I guess this
is part of defining my ‘new normal’. All the while my Facebook newsfeed remains
full of stories and images of friends on the ground in Nepal building temporary
shelters like the earthbag homes, distributing tents and tarps, building
schools, distributing food and medical supplies and preparing for the monsoon
rains. It’s hard to be here because I
know how valuable an extra set of hands can be there. Having said that, I also know how many more funds are
required and how much continued awareness is needed to support these efforts to
help the vulnerable prepare for an uncertain future – their ‘new normal’.
Beyond continued fundraising efforts organised from the UK
and Canada, I plan to return to Nepal in the Autumn to continue to help with
the rebuilding efforts. Next Spring I will return and continue my expedition on
Shishapangma and Cho Oyu. They’re small contributions – mere drops in the ocean – to helping solve the wider problems but do make a difference. As the saying goes, I believe it was Mother Theresa who said it, whatever you can
give, no matter how small will be of great benefit. We ourselves feel that what
we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of
that missing drop.
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Thank you for your continued contributions and donations to the Paldorje Education Foundation - Nepal Earthquake Relief Fund. Whilst the Nepal earthquake headlines may no longer dominate the front pages of international media, the impacts here remain real and omni present. Please continue to donate, to spread the word and give what you can.
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