Running down an upcoming escalator was not an experience I was expecting as I arrived in a hotel in Baglung, a town around 50 miles west of where I live in Besisahar.
It was April 25th and I had spent three days giving ‘Livestock and Climate Change Resilient Soils’ workshops in five local rural communities. Over the last two days we had experienced very unseasonal hail storms, accompanying heavy rain.
Delivering ‘Livestock and Climate Change Resilient Soils’ workshop a mere day before the earthquake
As Annabel, an International Citizen Service team leader and I returned to Baglung, the paths were muddy. Washing my feet was on my mind as we climbed the stairs of the six storey hotel where I’d left a bag a few days earlier. Land prices are very high here so buildings tend to be tall and narrow.
On the top floor, Annabel ordered tea and I went to clean my feet. As cold water washed over them and the red soil whirled down the drain, I thought of the return bus journey I hoped to make to Besisahar late that evening. It would be good to see my wife Jude again.
With now spotlessly clean feet, I wandered back to the tea room to meet Annabel. Then, the building began to shake.
Escape
The first reaction when that happens is not to escape, it is to take a split second as your senses realise what’s happening. Then your brain kicks in with the likely consequences of being stuck on the top floor of a building whose construction has never been subject to the rigors of Western construction standards. Then you escape!
Annabel and I looked each other in the eyes and I think we both just said ‘run down’, which we started to do.
That’s when the escalator experience kicked in. It can have only taken a few seconds to make that descent, but six floors can feel like 26 when your life depends upon it. The flights of stairs seemed endless and seemed to rise up at us, preventing that much desired arrival at the bottom. As we ran, the building rattled like someone was taking swipes at it with a wrecking ball and the windows popped open as their frames changed shape.
Eventually we made it to the open door of the hotel and burst out into a narrow street. Shouts, screams and the sound of falling masonry greeted us as we joined the fleeing masses, whilst surrounding tall buildings continued to rattle and sway.
We finally arrived at an open space, big enough to afford protection should the entire town come down. After a few more seconds, the earthquake came to an end. Baglung was largely still standing, but we had all been given a lesson in the strength of natural forces.
Getting home
I made contact with the VSO emergency line and then called Jude who to my joy had also escaped injury.
Annabel was now efficiently contacting her team of young volunteers, who were also safe, so I made my way to the bus park. Clutching bags and equipment, I dodged into open spaces as aftershocks set the crowd on edge. I was hoping to catch a bus home to Jude in Besisahar and luckily a bus was about to leave.
The road ahead was strewn with rocks which had rained down from their craggy resting places. Eventually our way became blocked by boulders, but such obstacles are everyday to the average Nepali and people were already clearing a path. After a couple of hours’ delay, we were on the move again, and we passed some very unfortunate crushed lorries that had been caught in the landslip.
Twenty-four hours later I was back in Besisahar. Our area has seen some structural damage to houses and five deaths, despite its proximity to the earthquake’s epicenter. In the same district but further east, entire villages have been destroyed with loss of life. On the silty soils of the Kathmandu valley, the human cost has been much greater – as no doubt you will have seen on your televisions.
Aftermath – and doing what we can
Our five children would have liked us on the first flight home and of course VSO has offered us repatriation, but Jude and I haven’t even considered leaving Nepal.Instead, we’ve been busy supporting the Chief District Officer with disaster response planning by hiking to remote communities to assess and photograph the earthquake damage.
We trekked between eight and 12 hours each day for five days. We met people who demonstrated that all-important Nepali trait of resilience, with a few families already rebuilding their shattered homes. But for many, the shock of losing dwellings, precious food and seed stores rendered them incapable of going beyond their normal daily routines. Families sat under trees, by roadsides and on piles of rubble waiting for help to arrive.
Despite the circumstances this Gurung village wants to give us their traditional welcome. By now we had been trekking for four days.
Having submitted our report and 900 photographs to the Chief District Officer, we hope our work will help ease the flow of aid to the now homeless rural people we had the privilege to meet on our journey.
It's far too early to assess what impact this and the subsequent earthquake on May 12th will have had on the Nepali people. With their resilience, stoicism and support from organisations like VSO, I am confident they will be able to rebuild their lives – though the recovery will be long. I am glad that I will be able to play a part in that recovery, and I’d like to thank you for enabling me to be here. Please do support VSO’s Nepal appeal if you haven’t done so already. Thank you again.
Best wishes,
Simon
