The three of us were in the master bedroom from our house, discussing color combinations for bed sheets when the earthquake hit. I heard some noise in the distance, a rumbling, everything started shaking and it took us a couple of seconds to realize. I first thought my blood pressure was low, or I was strangely drunk at 11.56 in the morning, but when it dawned on me, I shouted it out: “earthquake” but didn’t know what to do. Do you run, do you hide? Shaun, our visiting Australian friend who had been providing us with his opinion on color schemes, had better reflexes: he ran for the doorpost and stood under it. I belatedly remembered that was indeed the advised thing to do, as it is supposed to be reinforced, and so you’re less likely getting the ceiling on you. We squeezed in the doorway with the three of us, holding on to the sides. It kept going on, seconds seemed like an eternity. I heard crashing from downstairs and shouted to Scott, our intern downstairs, that it was an earthquake. Shouts and screams could be heard from the neighbors. It was very weird, the house wasn't bulging or cracking, it just seemed as if it as getting lifted up and put back down, or shaken from side to side.
After thirty seconds, which felt much longer, it subsided. We ran downstairs and I checked on Scott. Shaun yelled, everyone outside, because there is a risk of aftershocks. The four of us stood in the driveway, looking around, feeling dazzled. The house seemed fine, just as the ones around us. Nothing happened and I started automatically thinking about the stuff inside. What would we miss if another shock came, and what would we need? Should I get food out? Shut off the electricity and the gas bottle to avoid fires? Get my passport to be able to leave? Recover the financial records for my NGO so that I had my accounting? We didn’t really know what to. Everybody was in the streets, milling around confused. Nobody seemed injured or crying. One garden wall nearby had collapsed, giving us plain view of their garden and the house. We curiously looked inside and saw everybody gathered on the lawn.
“Are you fine?” we shouted.
“Yes, all well.” they replied.
After some more moments, we decided it was safe to get back inside. The living room played the part of having gone through an earthquake. Broken glass, lots of stuff on the floor. It turned out only one cabinet had fallen over, spilling all the books, games and alcohol bottles we had, but also littering the floor with glass shards, as the doors had been made out of glass. The rest didn’t seem out of place, only one of the many frames had fallen, the electricity was still on, water still ran. The water tank under the house had been shaken so badly that it had spilled over the floor though. Internet was down however. I made a bag with some essentials, like batteries, a change of clothes, my computer and put it outside in a watertight bag. Fearing aftershocks, we quickly got out of the house again.
I got a text from a friend, simply saying ‘OMG’. This brought home that this was a collective thing, not just us. We quickly used the 3G on our phones to post that there had been an earthquake but that we were fine. We mentally started going over the list of friends and acquaintances to see who we should check on. Hardly any calls were going through, so we tried text messages, some going through, others not.
We had planned to pass by a nearby hotel, the Summit, where the Dutch were celebrating King’s Day. Deciding it was probably best not to stay inside the house, we grabbed our cameras and decided to go explore the damage, and head over to that hotel. It is also frequently used by NGO and international organisations, and we felt it would give us an idea of what had happened and more importantly, what was about to happen.
The streets were crowded with people and cars and motorbikes trying to negotiate their way through rubble. The damage didn't seem so bad to the houses, but the street was littered with bricks from the garden walls, which had fallen over in about one of every five houses. Since they are currently widening the roads and a lot of these walls would have to be knocked down, we jokingly said Nepal is the only country where an earthquake could actually be constructive.
High-rises looked okay, though some showed cracks. A couple of houses we saw had a wall missing, showing rooms inside, but not to the extent it looked as if people had gotten trapped there. The little shops had many of their goods spilled over the floor, fallen from racks. We got to the hotel, where people again had that hazed look, sitting around and carefully avoiding being close to the walls or inside the buildings. The swimming pool was one third empty and friends of ours who had a table next to it, explained that it had been like a tidal wave hitting them. The hotel has a terrace with a view of the city, and we looked out. Nothing seemed to be out of place, no smoke or dust cloud. Looking hard, we saw a water tank that had fallen from a rooftop, but that was it. I remembered a conversation I had overheard, about a tower crumbling. I only know one tower in Kathmandu, the Bihmen tower, a big white thing, and looked for it in the skyline but thought it was probably hidden. I remember being a bit disappointed, such a big quake and everything seemed to be quite alright.
We decided to go walking in the city, look at the damage. Everybody was in the street, standing or sitting around. We didn't see anybody injured or even bleeding though and Shaun compared the feeling in the streets to one of the general strikes, when no transport is allowed. We walked over the bridge separating Lalitpur from Kathmandu and noticed the first big collapse.
A white temple on the riverbanks, which we always point out to visitors because of the amount of monkeys that hang around there, hanging on the electricity wires and running on the sidewalks, which was gone. Instead, there was just a pile of rubble. No way to tell what had been where or what it had looked like. We took some pictures, realized a bit more of the extent of the catastrophe and moved on. Another temple, one of Shaun’s favorite, was pretty much okay, but the top had fallen off. As we got closer to the city center, there were more and more people on foot, half of them on the phone trying to reach people, frustrated with the lack of signal. We walked past two shopping malls, which had withstood quite nicely, though one showed some cracks and broken windows. We walked past a park, where thousands of people were gathering to be in safety, without any surrounding buildings. We reached an intersection, close to the white tower and the police were blocking off the roads. The tower was indeed gone. Volunteers or passers-by were trying to keep the people on the sidewalks, so ambulances could use the road. Still very chaotic, I suggested to get closer, Thomas didn't want to, thinking we would be in the way. Shaun and I decided to try and we managed to get closer. I held a press card should anybody have stopped us, but nobody did. People around me told me more than 50 people had been inside. People were frantically clearing rubble away, throwing stones in all directions. I couldn't imagine anybody surviving if they had been in that tower. A bit silent, we went away. We decided to continue to Durbar square, through the alleys. Being crowded by the houses, we didn't feel safe so moved quickly. At one point, we reached a little square, where around twelve people were digging again, though I can’t imagine there would have been a house there. Maybe it had been an alley between two walls and the walls had collapsed, and they were looking for victims. I noticed a pick-up truck, with a guy crying and silently wailing next to it, being held by others. I notice that two feet are sticking out from the pick-up truck. There no sense of urgency, of help being offered, so it was clearly too late. Just then four guys drag another body closer, all busty but with red tracks from his blood. I hesitate to move forward, offer first aid, but catch a glimpse of his head, which is strangely deformed, like it has been folded inward. Four more guys bring a third body, this one smaller. I get a better look, and it seems like it’s a fifteen year old boy, but I can’t tell for sure. The bodies are quickly loaded into the pick-up truck and covered with some sheets. Three or four others climb on board to accompany them and exchange some quick instructions to others. I feel bad not taking a picture, I do, and then feel worse about having taking the picture.
We continue walking, a bit subdued. The extent is starting to hit home... If on our short walk, we see three dead bodies, how many more must there be? The damage really isn't that visible. Some older houses have collapsed, but most are still standing.
We reach Durbar Square, the main square of Kathmandu, lined with a palace and several temples. Usually, you have to pay a visitors fee to walk on it. It is completely filled with people, some looking for security, others as spectators. 80% of them have their cellphones out and are taking snapshots. Most of them are gone. Some walls of the palace have crumbled, others have cracks, but the two main temples have collapsed. They were made a bit like a pyramid, steps going increasingly smaller, until the building on top spreads out again. The steps are still there, but the buildings are gone, scattered. I manage to get to the center of the square, where people are still clearing debris, volunteers, tourists who had been in the square, military, but mostly just ordinary Nepali people.
I hesitate about trying to help, but there are so many people around, I wonder what kind of difference I could possibly make. Another shock hits and the palace trembles. People run away, panicked, to the center of the square. It doesn't last very long and nothing new falls down, but they cut off the sections of the street that are too close to the palace. Tired and exhausted, we walk 45 minutes to get back home, where Shaun gets a call from a bunch of Dutch volunteers who are looking for a place to stay. They arrive with seven people. Some Nepali friends also drop by, afraid of sleeping at their houses. We put together a quick meal of noodles. A neighbor comes by, I've interacted a couple of times with him, but nothing major. He requests if his family can sleep in our garden that night. We say of course, and another ten people come, from all ages. We try to make them as comfortable as possible. Every scrap of mattress, cushions, plastic is put to use. Several tremors still follow and it is a restless night, with little sleep.
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