Hi Everyone,
Apologies for the silence on the blog front, things have been quite challenging and busy over the past few months. Part of that has been spent making a few videos to introduce people to Rolwaling Valley. Here is our first one soon to be followed by another exploring the valley itself.
I hope you enjoy!
After an exhausting but wonderful and inspirational week catching up with our existing and potential new projects in Kathmandu, we called a wrap on the fundraising movie as my attention turned to a fast approaching visit to Rolwaling Valley.
I had attempted to organise and prepare for the trip whilst getting everything else done but without much success. I soon found myself doing the final bits of packing at 5:30am on the day the journey began.
It had been a week of uncertainty, with almost constantly changing plans from different dates of departure, modes of transport, travelling companions and more. Even on the day I was due to leave, final arrangements remained uncertain.
This is far from unusual in Nepal, but is certainly a challenge for my western mentality of wanting to know what’s going to happen next. It can be a great lesson in letting go of those constraints we place on ourselves and seeing that actually, if there is someone helping who you can trust, you really don’t need to know – but it’s not easy!
The original departure date of 1st November became the 6th, the mode of transport changed from jeep to private bus to public bus and back to a jeep while my trekking companions switched from a trekking client of a friend of mine’s (and former resident of Rolwaling Valley) to the head of the village Ngawang Lapsam Rinpoche and a Kopan Monastery monk, also originally from Rolwaling.
So at 6am I caught a taxi to meet the jeep (a luxury for me) where we loaded up and started our 10 hour journey to the road head near Rolwaling. Even once we set off in our jeep there was no indication how long the journey would take, where we would be stopping along the way or if we would be starting our trek when we arrived or the following morning. Deep breath and let it go!
The journey isn’t your standard trip. There’s very little smooth tarmac for the majority of the journey, far, far from it and the farther you get from Kathmandu, the more difficult the roads become. Two lanes turn into one with cracked tarmac and pot holes becoming gravel and then rough, off-road terrain as you lurch across leftover landslides, over small rivers and under waterfalls.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to drive along those roads. It’s hard enough just sitting in the passenger seat, or at least trying to as your body involuntarily jumps up and down in rhythm with the constant bumps in the road as the driver navigates often constant hair pin corners meandering up or down the side of a mountain.
Having to keep a constant and unwavering concentration and vigilance, enough to read each dip and rivet in the road whilst knowing exactly how close you are to the end of steep cliff edges etc takes some impressive skill.
This trip had the new feature of mile long lines of vehicles waiting for fuel at un-stocked and unmanned petrol stations (due to the unofficial blockade on the India border). Separate lines of unmanned motorbikes, cars, buses, jeeps, goods vehicles and more snaked along the sides of the roads, their owners giving up waiting and instead abandoning their vehicles until they hear fuel is available. Unfortunately, Nepalese lines are not very organised, often leading to blockages in the road as vehicles insist on creating two sort of parallel lines resulting in long traffic jams.
It was sad to see the sheer scale of the crisis the blockade on the India border was and still is causing. Each of the thousands of vehicles we saw waiting belongs to someone who depends on them for work, taking their children to school, transporting vital goods to those who need them etc.
Each vehicle has story of someone trying to manage who’s now faced with yet another uncertainty. Many of us struggle to manage a day without our vehicles if they go in for a service or to be repaired. Can we even imagine suddenly not being able to use them for an extended period? Not only that, the buses and trains we would have used instead wouldn’t be running either whilst our friends and families vehicles would have the same problem and the gas and electricity which fuels our cookers, microwaves etc will have dried up as well.
We arrived in Gongar after around 10 hours of extremely bumpy driving, stopping on route to collect some supplies from Rolwaling’s temporary school near Chariot (around half way) and to visit a plywood factory to look at potential supplies to help insulate the soon to be built, school hostel buildings.
This journey was a stark contrast to the exact same route I travelled last year prior to the earthquakes. Dolakha (the area we travelled through and in which Rolwaling is also situated) was very close to the centre of the second earthquake and it was very clear to see.
You hear and see clips of how much damage there is but it’s not until you drive through village after village for a constant 6-8 hours with the same destruction again and again and this is just an area with other areas in Nepal just as bad.
It’s almost impossible to describe the sheer scale of the devastation, not only to the buildings but the landscape as well. It was a real shock to see just how different everything is to last year and so hard hitting to see.
Even when I went on the aid trip to Gorkha (epicentre of the first earthquake) after the earthquake I only really saw dotted damage rather than large scale destruction and that was bad enough.This time as we drove, we passed through village after village after village of destroyed homes with debris everywhere.
The roads and landscape deeply scared by the landslides which had hurtled down them were a very very powerful and poignant reminder that the earth can harness unfathomable power large enough to cause such damage.
There was a deep sombreness in my heart as we travelled past so many homes reduced to rubble with whole communities including the young and old displaced, living in temporary shelters mostly made of zinc sheeting and pieces of wood with no heating or insulation for when the winter comes around.
I regularly wondered to myself how ninety seconds of shaking could cause damage on such a catastrophic scale. I couldn’t help think what a stark reminder it is that things are changing every second of every moment; we’re changing, things around us are changing, but because it’s so subtle most of the time we don’t notice or appreciate it’s happening.
However, when that change is so immense and obvious, how can we deny it anymore? It serves as a real eye opener; jolting us awake to the realisation that everything can change in an instant.
We drove through the villages seeing piles of rubble which were once homes, the places people lived and created memories; their pride and joy, now a pile of rubble, yet somehow they are ok. They are managing.
Some people were just sitting on the rubble of their homes doing the usual things with their new makeshift homes next door most commonly made of four small sheets of zinc on a wooden frame with one door and no windows. Yet they look ok, look like they are managing even though I couldn’t quite fathom how they could be.
I tried to imagine being in a situation where my family home was completely raised to the ground, going back, seeing it and being ok, but I couldn’t. However, people here have and can do that, as have many other people all over the world and although it was heart wrenching to see the amount of destruction it was also incredibly inspiring to see how they have reacted to it and been so strong when faced with such adversity.
So it was unbelievable, hard to describe and hard to explain. I don’t think there really are the words to do it.
Our remaining time together saw Sah, Gabriel and I visit a drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre in Kathmandu as well a local school which one of the children supported by our Education Scholarship Fund attends to watch a drug awareness session being presented to some of the children.
Drug and alcohol addiction is a huge issue for both adults and children in Nepal with an estimated (and likely under-reported) twenty eight percent of young people abusing drugs and alcohol along with a much larger percentage of adults.
Despite the clear issues and associated risks to peoples’ health and quality of life, there is little being done to raise awareness of the risk of drugs and alcohol, whilst many of the addiction rehabilitation centres are run as businesses with poor success rates largely due to relapses meaning more money for the centre.
It’s a bleak picture painted by multifactorial causes which will be extremely difficult for any government or organisation to tackle. However, some are trying and succeeding. Hope and Challenge founded by Geshe Gelong is one of them. They are unbelievably passionate about assisting those who have fallen into the trap of addiction whilst helping the younger generation avoid the same fate.
Geshe Gelong talked at many rehabilitation centres over the past five year, adding to the programs run there to offer a more holistic approach enabling people to truly understand how their minds are working and where the problem truly lies.
He has now founded his own rehabilitation centre in Kathmandu functioning as a supportive environment where adults can receive tailored treatment programs incorporating standard western therapy alongside meditation and mindfulness aiming to find and resolve the root of the problem.
We were fortunate to visit one of these centres to attend one of Geshe Gelong’s talks for those receiving therapy. Despite the dark and run down environment, the room was filled with a positive energy and wish to recover. Regardless of the depths of their difficulties, each of those present were captivated by Geshe Gelong’s talk, many laying themselves bare with very personal questions once the formal talk was finished.
As someone who’s never been involved in drugs or particularly known anyone who has, it’s extremely hard for me to understand what those individuals and others were and still are going through. However, the looks of desperation on their faces whilst soaking up the words of advice perhaps gave even a small glimpse of the inner turmoil they are going through.
To be going through that in a country such as Nepal where such treatment nearly always comes at a high cost, standard of living is low whilst unemployment rates are astronomically high (even before the earthquakes and current political crisis), adds even more to the struggle people must face to recover.
Cost of treatment can often leave many unable to even commence a journey of recovery, whilst a lack of job prospects can stall or unravel progress as people in recovery leave a centre and find themselves with too much time on their hands whilst facing the temptation of old habits and no positive prospects for the future.
Hope and Challenge are working to address this. As and when funding is secured their rehabilitation centre provides free treatment for those who cannot afford it or subsidised for those who can afford to contribute. Once their treatment is finished, they are mentored during their transition back into society whilst those who don’t have a skill or find it difficult to find work are assisted with vocational training as funding allows or to explore the job market more effectively if they already have skills.
Not only that, their drug awareness program has also been met with a wonderful amount of enthusiasm with requests from many schools. At a cost of only approximately £16 per session, this is a hugely cost effective way of helping young people understand the risk of drugs. With no government awareness programs currently in place, this is information the children wouldn’t otherwise receive.
It was fantastic to see a group of teenagers receiving such valuable and potentially life changing information. Of course, there will always be some who do not take the information on board and still fall into the trap of drugs or alcohol addiction but seeing a room full of energetic teenagers transform from playful banter and general chat to complete silence and captivated facial expressions showed they were at least receiving an extremely valuable head start.
Life is tough here. It is tough all over the world for different reasons but in countries like Nepal the struggle is raw, difficult and multifactorial. There is no quick fix or simple answer to the web of problems experienced in the country. Educational, economical, health, political and environmental issues all intertwine to create a situation which can often seem unsolvable.
This is a nation which emerged from civil war not so long ago and has been experiencing ongoing political unrest ever since. It’s a country more recently turned upside down by the earthquakes earlier this year and now the political demonstrations causing blockades on the border with India.
Despite this there are local people who are trying to help their fellow people. Hope and Challenge are doing just that. Some of their staff used to battle drug and alcohol addiction; they have now recovered and act as incredible motivation for those still battling their demons.
They work tirelessly to bring treatment, vocational training and awareness to those who would otherwise be alone. However, as with almost everything in life, funding is needed to help them continue to do their amazing work. This is where Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal and my work comes in.
We are hoping to provide funding for free drug and alcohol treatment, vocational training and drug awareness programs to give people a fighting chance of beating this illness because that’s what it is.
It’s easy for those of us who’ve never faced these difficulties to judge those who do. Many see drug or alcohol addiction as a lifestyle choice and therefore a problem people should be left to deal with alone. After all they got themselves into it, or did they? Some see it as a waste of money to help fund treatment for people who may only relapse anyway.
We all have addictions. They may not be as harmful or as socially unacceptable as drugs or alcohol but have you succeeded in giving up your favourite thing such as chocolate, that glass of wine in the evening, television etc? Giving up a habit is one of the hardest things we can do. If we recognise our own, whatever they may be, we can perhaps we can develop a little more empathy for those who struggle with more serious issues.
Many people do want to succeed in their fight against addiction and have the courage and drive to do so. They need a fighting chance. They need our help.
Coming back to Nepal was both exciting and nerve wracking. It was hard to imagine how much the country might have changed in five months. The last time I was here the ground was violently shaking with screams of terror regularly filling the air. A cloud of fear hung heavily around everyone as they anticipated another life threatening earthquake.
As I touched down after a long flight with very little sleep, my foggy mind found it hard to process finally being back in this wonderful country. However, one thing I noticed almost immediately was the return of the familiar happiness and positivity in the air.
I’d always known Nepal as a country of smiles, laughter and optimism before the earthquake struck. A culture which, despite it’s many, many, difficulties, still managed to look on the bright side of life, finding its way using resilience, perseverance and ingenuity.
It was a massive relief to see there has been an emotional recovery, even if the structural one has been slow and the current fuel and cooking gas crisis is putting extra pressure on families to survive.
The first few days in the country have been a whirlwind of working with two great guys from Brazil, Sah and Gabriel, who have very kindly offered to fundraise for Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal online. We decided a video of our Kathmandu based projects would be the best way to get the message across to those who may want to support.
So, for the past three days I have been in numerous meetings to arrange the schedule for filming, visited a school, the homes of children who we are supporting through the Education Scholarship Program, watched a drug awareness session run by Geshe Gelong, walked a lot (!) due to the fuel crisis and visited a drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre.
It has been truly humbling to witness the incredible projects Hope & Challenge are managing which Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal support. Seeing the smiles and disbelief on the children’s faces as they received their portraits painted by the USA (no name) Art Group was just wonderful to see.
Most of these children rarely receive gifts, whilst any they do receive will usually be clothing (often second hand). So to receive something so personal which has had so much love poured into it by the artist was something very special for them.
The warmness of the Nepalese people never ceases to amaze me. One family of a child we support welcomed us into their home with open arms as we arrived to hand over their art work. We sat in a very simple room, scarcely decorated which most of the family must share but was still full of love and warmth as the family excitedly tried to communicate with us, showing us their few things as one of the younger child took an instant liking to my camera and tripod, taking some pretty good photos of his mum and sister (despite being only around three years old!).
The tour continued through the indoor corridor (looking more like an alleyway with bare concrete walls) to show us their old loom which both ladies share to hand weave carpets they then try to sell. Their labour of love produced beautiful carpets but you can’t help think how little they will get for them considering the amount of time they must invest into such an art form.
Despite their pleas for us to stay, we had run out of time and needed to get going to a drug awareness session Hope & Challenge were running at a local school and still needed to visit the home of one more child, Ganesh.
Ganesh lives with his family, including his father who delivers cooking gas cylinders (carried on a bicycle or his back) and his mother who sadly suffers from mental illness leaving her unable to work. The income from this is not enough to cover his education so Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal work with Hope & Challenge (a local small NGO) to cover his school fees.
This is even more important now his father’s work has been jeopardised by the current lack of cooking gas to deliver in the country. There is no such thing as work security for most people in Nepal. If something like this happens their wages stop with no warning and no savings to draw upon.
It’s hard to fathom the multi-dimensional impact the crisis on the border of Nepal is having on the country, despite it not seemingly being worthy of hitting the international news with any force. Conflicting reports makes it impossible to know what’s really happening but many are alluding to another civil war being sparked if things are not resolved soon. Clearly that would be devastating for a country trying to recover from a natural disaster which had seemed to have finally recovered from the last civil war that plagued the country for many years.
Despite the difficulties and uncertainty, people have no choice but to try and get on with their lives; regularly uttering one of their favourite sayings ‘what to do?’. For visitors, the only real sign of the crisis is the sight and smell of wood smoke filling the air (now used for cooking instead of gas), streets being nearly empty of vehicles in some areas, far more people walking the streets, huge increases in taxi prices and vastly reduced menus in restaurants.
It’s when you talk with the local people you really get a feel for the pressure it’s putting them under.
Stay tuned for further stories from my first few days in Nepal.
Today marks the six month anniversary of the ‘Great Quake’ which struck Nepal on 25th April 2015. It’s hard to believe it’s been six months since I was sat in a cafe in Boudha, Kathmandu, drinking lemonade and eating french fries as the ground started to shake.
The ninety seconds that followed unleashed a devastating power I’d never witnessed before and certainly hope I and no one else, ever has to again. The initial terror soon gave way to the realisation the country of Nepal had experienced it’s largest natural disaster for a generation with billions of pounds worth of damage and hundreds of thousands of lives thrown into turmoil.
During the three weeks I spent in the country following the earthquake, the charity I founded and help run, Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal, did everything we could to help people survive and recover from the disaster. As a small charity our resources were limited, but being grassroots we could use our personal relationships in the country, coupled with our flexibility as an organisation, to instantly start helping distribute emergency aid.
It was an emotional and traumatic time for everyone in the effected areas with constant, large aftershocks, keeping everyone on edge, not knowing if they might progress to another large, life threatening earthquake.
It’s hard to describe the constant adrenaline rush as the aftershocks continued to shake the earth one after another. Everyone tried to continue to function as individuals, as families and as a society, not only to help those who needed help, but to be able to survive themselves.
Every time you went into a building you didn’t know if you would come back out alive. Every time the ground shook your body would tense with the anticipation of serious injury. These are things you learn to deal with when you have to. You push through the fear to keep functioning and be able to communicate what’s happening to others outside the country and coordinate the charity’s aid response.
Nearly three weeks on from the April earthquake, just as people seemed to be trusting the ground they walked on a little more, finally feeling safe to go inside and move around the city, the second large earthquake struck.
Heart wrenching screams drifted through the air every time the earth shook for days afterwards, communicating the ongoing psychological impact of the near crippling ongoing fear which cannot be underestimated.
However, once I left Nepal having done everything I felt I could in the country at the time, it was then that I realised how much of an impact it had had on me. Despite being back in the UK with no risk of a life threatening earthquake occurring, it took me months not to tense up each time a lorry passing my house made the building shake a little. My body still launched into the fight or flight mode as my adrenaline soared and pulse raced from the anticipation of an earthquake.
There wasn’t much time to pause and think about what had happened as Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal continued to actively fundraise and coordinate with our partners in Nepal ensuring funds were being used most effectively.
My mind would constantly turn to the ongoing plight of the people I do and don’t know in Nepal still enduring the fear of regular aftershocks, limited food supplies and shelter. Trying to do everything I could whilst unable to re-enter Nepal due to visa restrictions.
Working against the clock, it was essential to try and provide shelter to Rolwaling Valley before the monsoon rains started. By July, we had helped send a team of volunteers to rebuild damaged homes into safe one building structures, providing crucial shelter for the monsoon season.
Having completed our emergency aid response our attention turned to the rebuilding process. We recognised this wasn’t only about buildings but needed to incorporate other aspects of peoples’ lives such as educating the future generation of Nepal and helping children and adults deal with the psychological impact of the events they had experienced in a healthy way.
By August, we had teamed up with Hope & Challenge, a committed and passionate small Nepalese NGO to help provide education scholarships to some of the most disadvantaged children in the Kathmandu Valley effected by the earthquakes.
Looking to the future we wish to offer further assistance to this wonderful organisation who are also providing free drug and alcohol rehabilitation services, vocational training and school drug awareness sessions to help those with major struggles in their lives who have no financial means to seek help.
Six months on, it isn’t the fear I remember most about the time during and after the earthquakes in Nepal, it is the resilience, kindness and generosity of the people of Nepal that’s stayed with me. Despite being terrified and facing so much uncertainty themselves, some not even knowing if loved ones were dead or alive, they gathered and sent life saving supplies to others. In their darkest hours, they thought about others and how they could help them. They had so little, but still gave anything they could, even if it was one blanket or sharing the last of their food.
These are the people we continue to work with to help the people of Nepal recover. In four days time I will return to Nepal to meet with them once again, visit their projects we are supporting and discuss how we can continue to support them in the most empowering and sustainable way possible.
The current unofficial closure of the Indian border wont make this easy. Extremely limited amounts of household supplies, rebuilding materials, petrol, diesel and cooking gas are entering the country. Nepal is heading towards another major disaster with transport nearly coming to a halt, people having to cut down protected forests for wood to cook with and rebuilding efforts to help communities prepare for the winter having to be postponed.
Despite this, I hope to make my way up to Rolwaling Valley to see how the community are recovering, as well as visit the projects we support in Kathmandu and look forward to updating everyone as soon as I can.
None of this would be possible without the kindness of our supporters. As a small, grassroots organisation, we are fortunate to have the opportunity to build deep and lasting relationships with those we are helping. These enable us to really understand their wishes, needs and limitations whilst being able to react quickly to changes in circumstances.
Every day I feel honoured to be in a position from which I can help people in Nepal in my own small way, but behind me are all the people who allow that to happen; without them, none of this would be possible so thank you, thank you, thank you.
If you would like to stay up to date with what we are doing as a charity you can follow us on Facebook www.facebook.com/hppnepal or keep an eye on the news section of the website www.hppnepal.com
It’s hard to believe it’s only been two weeks since the ‘Great Quake’ rocked Nepal sending both physical and emotional shock waves through a country already struggling in a number of ways. The consequences have been nothing short of catastrophic with vast areas reduced to rubble both in rural and urban settings.
A number of limiting factors has unfortunately led to an inadequate aid response with many people still awaiting help. An international airport with only one runway and power struggles between political parties combined with the difficult topography of the landscape have all contributed to a multifactorial web of difficulties and hurdles faced by those trying to help.
Many villages high in the mountainous regions previously accessible by road are now inaccessible, some without any form of communication, totally cut off from the outside world without any way of communicating their need for life saving help. They have no choice but to fend for themselves with what little they have, living amongst the corpses of dead relatives whilst fearing of another earthquake.
International aid sits in planes that haven’t been unloaded, in customs halls at the airport or even in other countries awaiting permission to fly whilst those supplies trickling out of the airport have merely scratched the surface of the immense number of people in need.
Thirteen days on, countless villages remain unreached. Food stores of grains and potatoes which would have fed families until the next harvest are now buried under the rubble of homes, so close but out of reach leaving whole villages with nothing to eat.
Many only have the clothes they are wearing and no shelter from the unseasonal rains that fell following the earthquake and the impending monsoon rains. Injuries have gone untreated whilst disease is starting to spread.
The response from the local people has been staggering and can’t fail to restore some hope in human nature and kindness. Local NGOs alongside ad hoc groups of people are doing their best to gather food, shelter, clothing, sanitation and medical supplies to take to those in need. These are the people who know Nepal making them best equipped to gather supplies and deliver them to those in need.
Despite the chaos amidst a constantly changing environment needing flexibility and patience they have created a well organised system to deliver aid supplies to those most in need, providing materials for shelter, food, clothing, blankets, sanitation and medical supplies.
One such group is the ‘Kopan Helping Hands’ working out of Kopan Monastery and Nunnery. Requests for help from all the affected districts come into their coordinator who then checks their credibility and needs before organising the distribution of the materials they require.
All their efforts have been supported by amazingly generous donations made by individuals passing through or connected to the monastery, Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal’s supporters and FPMT.
Each day at least one truck load of supplies leaves the monastery to travel as far as six to eight hours on bumpy often dangerous roads to reach those in need. Yesterday I was fortunate to join them on a trip to Khuplan village in Gorkha district (the general area where the epicentre of the earthquake was located).
Working for HPP-Nepal and helping FPMT from Kopan monastery on a hill a little out of the centre of Kathmandu since the earthquake struck has meant I’ve been quite removed from the devastation below. Leaving the monastery at around 9am we drove through the city on our way to Gorkha.
The devastation scattered across the city is almost impossible to describe with some areas faring better than others. Large buildings most of us believe are so dependable and safe have so easily been reduced to a pile of rubble or leaning at bizarre angles threatening to collapse at any moment.
It’s difficult to process the enormity of the situation or what it means for those directly involved. With no house insurance and many not able to afford to rebuild what does the future hold for those who have been less fortunate? There’s no government housing to use and a monsoon about to hit the country. All their belongings are buried in the rubble, everything gone with no ability to replace it.
There was still an element of emotional distance from the situation for me as we drove past. We do a good job of protecting ourselves, cutting the emotional connection with what we’re seeing, not identifying on a personal level. However, as you pass home after home destroyed by an act of nature lasting only ninety seconds you can’t help but feel overwhelmed but the enormity of the suffering.
Driving along the road from Kathmandu to Pokhara we passed signs of many landslides cleared from the road, yet another danger created by the earthquake and one still causing destruction in higher regions of the mountains as snow melts and rocks loosened by the earthquake fall, crashing into and demolishing whole homes.
There was a slightly tense atmosphere amongst the team, perhaps created by the uncertainty of what would face us when we arrived. Prior information suggested the whole village had been destroyed but it’s always hard to judge if any exaggeration is involved with these things.
After six hours travelling in the open air trying to get comfortable sitting in the open air on the bags of rice and dal packed into the back of a pick up truck with pollution and dust filled air forced into our lungs we arrived at our destination.
As we arrived in the village a few of the residents tentatively came to greet us, seeming unsure if they should approach or wait to be invited. I can only imagine what it must be like for remote communities who are used to supporting themselves to suddenly become the focus of both local and international communities offering help. It’s a big change and one that needs to be quickly adapted to.
The Kopan team quickly organised themselves with a list of the families in the village, lining people up to help with the distribution to ensure everyone got their share of the aid. One family at a time, they approached the truck, gratefully accepting the supplies.
As time passed by the crowd began to relax. Excitement and relief began to replace the sadness, grief and fear that was hanging heavily in the air when we arrived although there was no way of denying the seriousness of the situation they were in.
The village itself was a typical hill side settlement with many modest stone and mud buildings. What were family homes are now either reduced to piles of bricks with the occasional door still standing or have whole walls and roofs lost. All sixty three homes are uninhabitable, a whole community displaced in an instant and several killed.
It’s common for the elderly and young children to make up these communities. Most middle aged people go to work in Kathmandu to send money back to support their elders whilst older children leave to go to school if they can.
This meant it was the elderly and young who were there when the earthquake struck, who watched their homes crumble to the ground as their reality shifted from one of relative stability to a complete unknown.
I can’t even begin to imagine the shock that must accompany such a situation. I was in the Boudha area of Kathmandu having lunch in a cafe situated in a courtyard surrounded by four high walls when the earthquake struck. As the ground started to shake violently one wall fell scattering bricks across the floor. There was a realistic chance all four could engulf me leaving my heart racing as I stared the possibility of death in the face. Luckily the walls remained standing and I escaped with only cuts and bruises.
Having felt the shock and fear of that experience I can’t been begin to imagine what it must be like to watch your home crumble in front of your eyes. To see everything you’ve worked for and know be reduced to practically nothing. Not only that, many people in these communities don’t understand the science behind earthquakes so every tremor (which Gorkha are still experiencing on a regular basis) results in immense fear.
You can see this fear mixed with what looks like defeat and anxiety in the eyes of the elderly in the village. Two women approached me, immediately reaching out to grasp my arm, wanting the comfort of human touch as they guided me towards their broken homes with broken hearts.
They pointed to what was once everything they knew and owned now destroyed then looked straight into my eyes as tears filled theirs. Their slow and deliberate movements seem filled with disbelief and fear of the unknown, aware they have been left with nothing and in need of temporary shelter sturdy enough to protect them and their animals from the imminent monsoon rains.
It was to hard to keep it together as their frail hands clasp tightly around my arm or theirs reached around my waist, pulling me into a tight embrace. Sometimes language isn’t necessary to communicate what it’s in our hearts. Reminding myself crying wouldn’t help them was the only way I could stop emotion taking over.
It’s so hard not to let the enormity of the situation make you feel unable to help. It can make you paralysed and defeated as you realise you can’t help everyone as guilt sets in from being forced to select some villages instead of others. It’s so important to appreciate what you can do, the lives you can save and help.
Families in the village are beginning to build new make shift shelters from bamboo and any wood and tin salvageable from their homes. These small structures will be shared by a whole family and their animals, a recipe for health problems but the best they can manage in these challenging circumstances.
As I continued my tour of the village the story of the elderly ladies was repeated again and again. A whole community destroyed with no building left safe to share between them. I’m told it’s the same for many others in the region, a whole area devastated with many lives lost.
Returning to the truck the atmosphere was a happier one with everyone relieved to have the supplies they needed to survive for at a least another week or two by which time they hope to have access to other food and supplies. We left to a crowd with smiles on their faces, clapping our efforts and shouting goodbye.
It’s going to take years for communities such as this one to recover from this tragic event. There are still communities awaiting aid, many forced to watch trucks full of supplies pass their villages destined to help others. The situation is desperate.
It’s reported ten thousand people a day leave Kathmandu in a bid to return to their home villages aiming to help the elderly and the young. It’s said it will take the majority of people living in the poorer rural areas ten to twenty years to save enough money to build a new home. Can you even begin to imagine?
So the fight to survive continues for many in rural areas whilst life in Kathmandu has started to return to normal for those only mildly effected. Nobody knows what the future holds but we continue to fight to help those who remain most in need.
If you would like to contribute to our efforts to help others please visit Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal’s campaign page here: http://www.hppnepal.com/earthquake-appeal-1.html and check out our Facebook page for regular updates http://www.facebook.com/hppnepal
Being in the middle of a major disaster has thankfully been a first for me. It’s certainly been a roller coaster of experiences and emotions from the terror of the initial quake, the inevitable shock once the adrenaline had abated when the reality of the situation set in followed by disbelief as the news of the enormity of the situation started to filter through.
One of the strangest things has been living so close to the disaster zone whilst reading news reports about what’s been happening around me. At the monastery up on Kopan hill we’ve been isolated from the major destruction in the older areas of the city. Buildings here have cracks in their walls, everyone sleeps outside in tents and food and water are being conserved in case of shortages in the near future but other than that we’re not really aware of the severity of the situation just a few miles away and beyond.
Of course, the regular tremors, fear in the young monks faces and lack of a shower for the past five days act as a constant reminder, as did the large second earthquake which struck whilst I was on the top floor of a three storey building. It was the day after the initial quake with the aftershocks calming down so we assumed it would be safe.
As the room shook a little we thought it would pass like all the others. As it got stronger and everything started to rattle we bolted out the door as quick as we could. Running down the stairs I found myself going diagonally across steps as I was thrown from one side to the other trying to get out as quickly as possible.
Despite racing down the four flights of stairs it felt like forever before we skidded to a halt just outside the building we had exited. Breathless, we looked around as the earth stopped shaking under our feet.
It’s interesting how you don’t realise how on edge you are until the ground starts to move. The moment it starts you instinctively prepare to escape. Before the big earthquake it might have taken a few seconds of shaking before I decided I needed to move but since experiencing how severe it can become there’s no waiting around! As soon as the floor begins to move my heart starts pounding in my chest as I try to suppress the urge to run until it’s necessary.
The look on everyone’s faces suggests they are feeling something similar while the tent cities full of people not wanting to return to their homes even if they are habitable reflects peoples fear aftershocks could develop into another big earthquake.
It can be hard to associate what you hear on the news with what’s going on within a few miles of where you are when you are relatively safe with food and water to use.It wasn’t until I went down into the city and we started hearing reports of the mass devastation in rural areas that it finally sunk in.
Just a ten to twenty minute walk from where I am staying a whole building had been reduced to rubble with over thirty people reported to have died whilst other buildings leaned perilously to one side waiting to collapse.
The quietness is one of the strangest things. The usual chaotic, traffic and pedestrian filled streets are eerily quiet, the air strangely clear with most shops shut as people stay away. Tents and outdoor kitchens have sprung up all along the road sides whilst most perimeter walls are now piles of bricks on the ground.
Whatever the weather, whole families spend their days outside too afraid to return to their homes if they still have one. Fear fills the air as rumours of another large earthquake coming spread through Kathmandu and beyond.
A normally relaxed and light atmosphere has become one of tension, worry and anticipation of the worst. I can understand why as I venture into the city to gather information and supplies for the Thame community.
As soon as I’m surrounded by the high, now ominous looking buildings I can see why people would be so scared. If a large earthquake hit with an epicentre closer than the last one many of the buildings still standing would crumble to the ground. Their unpredictable nature adds to the fear I feel as I walk between the buildings and even more so when going inside, realising I would never get out in time if a bigger one hit.
Earthquakes have the ability to shake you from the inside out. Not only does the ground move beneath your feet, adrenaline rushes through your body as the mind races through the fight or flight dilemma at lightening speed. Whatever happens in seconds can seem to take minutes or even longer as the body goes into shock, trying to process the situation.
On 25th April 2015 Nepal experienced the major earthquake it’s been predicted for many years. It wasn’t the first one I’ve experienced in the country but it was by far the largest. Starting as a normal day with no sign of the disaster that was to come I’d gone down to Boudhanath, the Tibetan area of Kathmandu from Kopan monastery where I’d been staying.
Relaxing in a cafe whilst talking to a friend the ground began to shake. Although an unusual feeling it wasn’t all that unfamiliar thanks to my previous experience of tremors and small earthquakes. However, as the shaking became more violent it soon became clear the situation was escalating and we needed to get out.
In the west its sometimes advised to stay inside and take shelter under a table or similar during an earthquake. In developing countries where building design is inadequate and certainly not earthquake proof the only option is to leave as quickly as you can.
As the intensity of the earthquake continued to build the ground shook violently under my feet as I tried to get away from the low roof just above us. In a courtyard surrounded by high badly built walls our location was nearly as bad as it could get if an earthquake strikes as bricks started to fall from above.
As the seriousness of the situation started to break through the shock of what was happening we jumped up from our seats trying to work out where the safest place to be was. Looking around at the high walls as bricks continued to rain it was clear there was nowhere to go, we were trapped.
As we stood watching, trying not to panic whist feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins a two storey wall collapsed as a wave of bricks knocked us to our feet. Trying to shelter each other from the rain of bricks we managed to get to our feet I waited for the worst, convinced the surrounding walls would bury us in that courtyard as screams started to fill the air.
Luckily, the ground stopped moving enough for us to get to our feet trying to process what had happened enough to work out what to do next. Moving away from the sea of bricks now covering the floor we spotted someone still stood under a low ceiling, frozen in fear. Beckoning her over she climbed over the piles of bricks to join us.
We decided we had to get out of there before the next one hit so quickly retrieved our mobile phones now surrounded by bricks on what was our table and risked running out through a narrow valley of high buildings until we were clear of their walls and out into the more open area of Boudhanath Stupa.
We emerged into a scene of shock and confusion but luckily not too much obvious damage. People huddled in the most open area trying to stay away from the buildings as the ground continued to shake, each aftershock creating fear of another even larger quake.
Unaware of the enormity of what had just happened and the devastation caused across Nepal we tried to work out how to get out of the stupa and back to where we were staying. Surrounded by small alleyways lined by high unstable buildings we decided to wait until the aftershocks eased knowing we would have no chance if caught in an alley during another quake.
A few hours later the shocks finally eased enough for us to make our way to where we were staying up on a hill on the outskirts of Kathmandu. With the phone networks jammed we had no idea of the damage elsewhere in Kathmandu or where we were heading.
Damage was fairly minimal as we walked back up. The area is relatively well constructed compared to the more central areas of Kathmandu and older historic buildings. Nevertheless, there was still damage and extremely shocked looking people sitting outside their homes, too afraid to go back in.
As we walked I began to develop signs of a concussion from the brick that had hit my head. Unaware of it at the time I had noticed the pain and bleeding as we’d emerged into the area surrounding the stupa. My head pounded as I tried to fight off the dizziness and mental fog starting to descend on my mind. Focused on getting to safety, we walked as fast as we could arriving where we staying around thirty minutes later.
I can’t begin to express how fortunate I am to be sat here writing this now. The devastation here is off the scale, especially in rural villages where the topography of the area made communities hard to reach even before the earthquake hit. Additional land slides and disrupted mobile phone communications make it extremely hard to know what’s happening or be able help.
Having returned from the higher Solu Khumbu valley only days before the earthquake hit it’s heartbreaking to hear of the villages we visited being levelled to the ground and the lives of some of those we met being lost.
It can be easy to feel helpless in these situations. After all what can be done amongst the chaos of the aftermath of such mass destruction and devastation? As the CEO of Himalayan Peoples Project – Nepal I feel incredibly lucky to be in a position to help in some way. With some communication lines open and knowing people in the upper Solu Khumbu area to coordinate with we are doing our best to raise funds to buy and distribute tents and food initially followed by rebuilding later.
This is a difficult and costly project but will ease the suffering of those who’ve seen their homes demolished and loved ones die, now living in fear of another earthquake, sheltering from the cold and rain at 4000m altitude.
If you would like to help us you can visit www.hppnepal.com/earthquake-appeal-1.html.
Thank you to everyone for all their well wishes and the incredible support you’ve shown through your donations so far. I will be back with more about how things are here soon.
Firstly, apologies to my regular readers for the lengthly pause in blog entries. The surprisingly quick (and wonderful) expansion of HPP-Nepal’s projects has meant I’ve been kept very busy over the past few months, but I’m back in the writing game and ready to share a little more about my trip to Rolwaling Valley and the community we are helping there.
As I mentioned in my previous post, Rolwaling Valley sits in the North East of Nepal just below the Tibetan (Chinese) border with a formidable pass to the East separating it from the far more trekked and therefore prosperous Solu Kumbu (Everest) region.
Known as the hidden valley it’s steeped in Tibetan Buddhist history and said to have been ploughed by Guru Padmasambava an Indian buddhist master and great yogi around the 7th century on his way to Tibet to make the land habitable. Therefore, the people of Rolwaling are said to be derived directly from his linage making it a very special place indeed.
With a population fluctuating between approximately 200-800 throughout the year, Beding is the main settlement of the people of Rolwaling Valley. As a nomadic community, they move between three settlements throughout the year, Beding in the Spring and Autumn, Na (to the east of Beding and higher at 4000m elevation) in the summer and a smaller unnamed settlement to the west in winter to take shelter from the biting cold and piles of snow that hit the area as night time temperatures plunge to -20 degrees or more.
Each settlement is made up of small traditional wood and stone built houses, usually with two stories, the living quarters above and somewhere to store vegetables and/or keep animals below. Sleeping quarters usually consist of one open room where the family cooks, spends time together during the dark, cold evenings and sleep at night.
There is very little if any privacy at all as long thin raised platforms used as seating during the day transform into small beds at night. Smoke which billows out from cooking on the make shift wood burning stove during the day and evening fills the air as a thick smoky blanket throughout the room, stinging the eyes and throat.
But privacy is the least of peoples’ worries whilst living in such a relatively inhospitable and remote area of the world where they must make the most of every minute of daylight in order to survive. Where there’s no electricity, no mobile phones, only two or three land line phone connections for local calls in the whole village; no running water in homes, having to fetch water from a local river or hose pipe; no internet, shops, showers or taps.
And that’s just the bare essentials. If we take a moment to imagine all the conveniences most of us have access to and use in our daily lives which makes time pass that little bit easier and more comfortably we realise there are many. Our cars, buses, trains, corner shops and supermarkets; roads, pavements, mobile phones, computers, heating, running water; indoor flushing toilets, showers or baths, double glazing, gas and electricity, the list is enormous.
Now perhaps take a few minutes to imagine what your life could be like without them. Think back to the last power cut you had, how inconvenient it was not being able to boil a kettle, watch Television, use the electric oven, turn on the lights or charge your electricals. Or the last time your boiler broke when the weather was cold and you struggled through the nights and days with no heating or hot water.
Then imagine that is your reality. The power cut lasts for days, weeks, months and years; the boiler never gets fixed and freezing cold drafts start to come through your windows as the insulation in your home starts to fail. You must leave your house and walk up to 50m or more to reach a communal toilet which is nothing more than a hole in the ground with no running water to be seen.
This is their reality. This is what they live with every day, in -20 degrees or more through the winter months whilst looking after animals and trying to farm their own vegetables in difficult terrain. There’s no take away to turn to if they are too tired to cook, no corner shop to get the essential supplies if they run out. It’s an incredibly tough life but one the incredibly brave, resilient, determined, kind hearted, generous and humble villagers embrace with all the energy and enthusiasm they have.
As a Sherpa culture, life revolves around buddhist culture and philosophy, specifically the Nyingma tradition of Tibetan buddhism with the local monasteries regularly used for rituals and prayers. Livelihoods for the local people mostly revolve around growing vegetables and looking after livestock to provide food and milk for themselves, rather than their meat with the slaughter of animals strictly prohibited within the community.
As the main crop most effectively grown in the area, potatoes can be found in almost every dish cooked, whether it’s a soup, a potato pancake, fried potato, potato curry, mashed potato or plain boiled potato dipped in yak cheese or chilli. Ingenuity creates an almost endless list of various combinations of the ever present potato and other seasonal vegetables and herbs.
Villagers visit each others’ houses during the long, dark evenings keeping each other company and entertained in the absence of a television or the internet for distractions.
With a one very long, steep downhill day’s walk to contend with to reach the nearest road, the community are relatively isolated from the ‘outside world’. With the Nepalese government committed to helping those living in such communities but struggling to afford the resources or find the time and man power to do so, they are often forgotten and left to fend for themselves with no health care or education.
However hard we try it’s extremely difficult, if not impossible to imagine this as our reality; to effectively put ourselves in their shoes and feel and experience their difficulties. Of course, these things are relative and we could say a simple lifestyle can be less stressful despite the hardship. This might be true, but I think it’s fair to say not many of us could bring ourselves to give up our luxuries and access to medical and schooling to live a simpler life.
So how many of us think of these people and the realities of their lives as we enjoy our holidays in the himalayas or other scenarios in developing countries? Do we consider the lives behind the faces of the people we photograph as we pass through their homes, or do we only think of them as an object of fascination as they enter and exit our lives in a fleeting moment?
There is a life, emotion, hardship and feeling behind those eyes you see in the photographs you or others took, on the internet or the television. It’s not abstract, these people are real and need our help.
What do people imagine when they think of the himalayas? Dramatic scenery, mountains beyond the scale of anywhere else, snow capped peaks, Mount Everest, raging glacial rivers, trekking, climbing, white water rafting? Perhaps all of the above.
Most of us dream about what we can gain from being in their presence, experiencing an incredible sense of remoteness, something that’s becoming rarer and rarer in our modern world; the opportunity to gaze at the incredible scenery, absorb the amazingly calming energy or push yourself to the limit on a personal challenge.
Do many of us think about the people who live there, those who call the mountains home? Do we consider the reality of the lifestyle of those who endure the difficulties of living in such remote inhospitable places? Can we even contemplate what it must be like for the many who live without electricity, taps, showers or heating?
Yes, the scenery is out of this world, for me there’s nothing else like it. Whilst standing amongst these kings of mountains I’m reminded of a whole different perspective on life. It’s hard to maintain an inflated sense of self importance when surrounded by something so much larger and more powerful than ourselves. Something that can produce devastating avalanches or landslides capable of wiping out entire communities or strike us down with altitude sickness without a moments notice.
The energy that sinks into my every atom never fails to calm my mind to a snails pace, the realisation of how little of the chatter and noise in my head actually matters followed by the liberation of letting go. The meditative state I enter whilst putting one foot in front of the other on the trail or staring at a flowing river or waterfall is nothing short of addictive.
This time I wasn’t there to experience the incredible scenery and enjoy it for myself alone. This time I was there with a very different purpose, to travel to the Rolwaling Valley on a research trip for HPP-Nepal. Having heard the plights of the community from others it was time to see and experience it as much as I could before making decisions with our team on whether HPP-Nepal are in a position to help.
So where is this mystical land I’m talking about I hear you cry. Rolwaling Valley sits in the North East of Nepal just below the Tibetan (Chinese) border with a formidable pass to the East separating it from the far more trekked and therefore prosperous Solu Kumbu (Everest) region.
Known as the hidden valley it’s steeped in Tibetan Buddhist history said to have been ploughed by Guru Padmasambava an Indian buddhist master and great yogi around the 7th century on his way to Tibet making the land habitable. Therefore, the people of Rolwaling are said to be derived directly from his linage.
To get there one must endure a formidable ten hour journey on a local bus (it’s not quite as bad as it sounds) or those on a larger budget can enjoy the luxury of their own jeep to the start of the trek. My much tighter budget meant ten hours on a very bumpy, very crowded bus.
Depsite the bone shaking bumps, smells, people crammed in like sardines in a tin, climbing over the sacks of rice filling up the aisles and non-existent leg room, the local culture of the buses makes it all worth while.
Chatter and laughter often fill the clattered old buses as they bump along the road, held together with re-whelded parts I have no doubt would fail an MOT in the west, provide a lifeline to those living in the remote rural areas, transporting people and goods to their villages.
People crowd around the driver leaving just about enough room for him to turn the steering wheel and use the gear stick, chatting away to him as he negotiates the pot holes, waterfalls cascading over the road, debris from past landslides and death defying drops.
Those having to stand pass their babies or young children to those who are sitting to hold. People share stories, news, snacks and fruit as the bus rambles along climbing and descending as it navigates the valleys, tooting it’s horn as it approaches blind corners trying to warn those coming the other way.
As you disembark at your destination the world continues to move as you relive the bumps in the road despite being on still land.
The last section of road you pass along is relatively new, only built in the last five years providing a lifeline to the local villages including those in Rolwaling Valley. Prior to its construction villagers needed to walk up to seven days to reach a bus to Kathmandu, now achievable in one or two in the direction of Kathmandu (down hill) and two to four when heading into the valley.
It’s still possible to extend the journey by trekking along the old trail on the opposite side of the valley to the new road but as I wasn’t there just to trek I made use of the road and kept the walking to a minimum.
A three day trek from the road head takes you across raging glacial rivers via swinging suspension bridges, up rocky staircases to traverse the sides of mountains, through fields of lush green crops swaying in the wind, past majestic flowing waterfalls, cutting through valleys of ever increasingly towering mountains, through small villages filled with local people battling difficult lives but happy non-the-less whilst being watched over by the ever present kings of the snow capped mountains.
It’s a trek of varied terrain and stunning scenery which I’m told changes dramatically with every season. The air was more crisp, clean and refreshing than I remembered as all the troubles of life lifted from my shoulders, I was home once again.
Glacial rivers raging through the gullies of the valleys, flowing over and sculpting hard rocks the size of houses, fallen from far above easily captured my gaze for hours at a time contemplating our constantly changing reality where nothing remains the same for even an instant.
After four days of walking due to a rest day to recover from a cold I was lucky enough to experience very little altitude sickness as we arrived at our destination, Beding village (3600m) around a third of the way into the valley.
I’m not sure I can describe the feeling I get when in the mountains; a sense of total release as the worries and complexities of life melt away. A meditative absorption into the energy of such imposing yet reassuring surroundings, seemingly so static with their huge proportions yet constantly changing from moment to moment. If Nepal in general makes my heart sing, the mountains in particular make it dance like nobody’s watching.
Check back soon for part two: Beding Village
A Physiotherapist's Asian Adventures 