Three Crows, Three Chairs:
and a final entry for my own “animal and chair” theme…
When your partner rolls over in bed it feels a lot like a tremor. The simple movement of a leg or the adjustment of a pillow sends mini aftershocks through the mattress, which at 2am feels a lot like the beginning of another quake. In the middle of the night its hard to be rational about these things. Sleeping through the night has been tricky for a while, after the quake its been more challenging still. Before the second quake, it was sort of comforting that the aftershocks were rapidly decreasing in magnitude and frequency. We felt them, paused to look at one another in the eye–an unspoken did you feel that?— and then continued with what we are doing. Since the second quake, we know that the earthquake is not just a slowly dying beast, but one that can roar back to life at any time. The ramifications of that mindset are everywhere….and its not just the bed springs that keep us on edge. After nearly a month of living in an earthquake zone, here are a few of the challenges:
Large earthquakes can bring a lot of after quakes. I had no idea how many:
Nepal has had:
2 earthquakes today
33 earthquakes in the past 7 days
109 earthquakes in the past month
120 earthquakes in the past year
Large aftershocks trigger their own aftershocks, sometimes leaving you with the sickening feeling that this will never end.
Feeling after quakes all the time. Everyone says, “Was that me?” ( or was that really a quake?) Sometimes I’ve felt it, sometimes not. And I do it too. For my own sanity, I keep a bottle of water at eye level on the windowsill next to my desk. I’ve become super sensitive to the noises and rumblings of the building. I can feel and hear when pumps or AC motors turn on, and my eye automatically checks the water for movement.
The noise. When I think back to the major quake, I don’t remember any noise except the thud of my own heart and other people screaming. But there is a noise that comes with the quake. Some people say they hear a train coming, I hear rumbling and a bang. Here in the middle of noisy Kathmandu there are plenty of unexpectedly slamming windows, rumbling trucks, or generators clunking back on that set of an alarm in my head. I don’t run screaming from the building, but the hairs stand up on my arms.
The fear of other people. I don’t like going out in public much at the moment. I go, but now I particularly avoid being around too many people. At the slightest tremor, they panic and scream, and waves of hysteria really don’t help. I don’t need to add being trampled to death to the list of dangers.
Birds. A lot of the CCTV and tourist video captures the sudden flight of birds that take off seconds before we feel the quake. They sense it before we do and startled crows are now another way to make you twitch.
Is it safe? A year ago we went to a movie on the 7th floor of a Kathmandu shopping mall. After, as we left, the city power went out and the generator took way too long to turn on. We stumbled around in a dark passageway that was blocked with boxes and trash. It felt like the most unsafe building in the city and we never went back. Apart from this incident, we’ve felt pretty safe exploring the city, enjoyed historic temples and the old Rana palaces that are now libraries and restaurants. Before, an assessment was based on whether a place would have decent service or not make us sick. Now I’m checking it for cracks and an exit strategy.
Exhaustion. We work, function, cook, garden, shower and mostly carry on as normal but are completely spent by 8pm. I don’t understand why I’m exhausted as though I’ve been carrying bricks all day… until I remember the disturbed sleep and the weight of all the stresses above – then it sort of makes sense.
A little dark for this particular challenge, maybe? But where else am I going to share the odd side of Kathmandu’s recent earthquake? Tragedy was everywhere and now comes resilience and rebuilding, but there is a little strangeness also, still lingering in the corners. Little reminders of what happened even after most of the debris has been picked up: a vase of flowers still standing inside a room seen through the gaping side of a building; billboards advertising events that were clearly cancelled; a paint store with its roll-down shutter still closed and paint oozing out onto the street…and these mannequins, who tell their own story.
I can hardly believe this week’s theme given what just happened here in Kathmandu. Nature showed us what she could do to people, their lives, their property, and even the ground beneath our feet. As we all struggle to find our footing again, I find myself driving around town, looking aghast at some of the changes the earthquake brought. People are so accustomed to seeing dramatic pictures of world disasters on TV, or spectacular images of disasters occurring in movies. Perhaps people won’t think these images of broken bookcases or cracked walls are much evidence of the immense force of an earthquake? But for me, when I look at the destruction, it makes me remember the feeling of helplessness that an earthquake brings; feeling ant-like and hopelessly powerless, standing on a moving plate that is shaking kilometers below with enough force to do this kind of damage:
60 days until our departure from Kathmandu. An earthquake was nowhere on my schedule – nor anyone else’s. But it came and changed everything – some of it forever. There was so much saturation coverage on the news, and now it slowly becoming a secondary story…but the humanitarian recovery effort here is only just starting. We are still recovering. We are ok. We’ve caught up on sleep and the are over at least the first waves of shock and disbelief. Amazingly everyone at work is ok too, many families and homes —-not so much. I was up a high A-frame ladder when it struck. The ladder shook but didn’t fall, but I couldn’t get off it either. I was surrounded by 7ft tall very high library book cases which carpenters had just put together for a new library I’m opening. The metal cases are so heavy it takes 6 guys to move them and they were swaying next to me. Eventually, I managed to get down, but by now I was the last one out and the floor was rocking so hard I couldn’t walk. So I crawled out.
Monkeys are everywhere in Kathmandu, especially around temples or scraps of undeveloped land. They are so fun to watch, but can also be annoying pests and even dangerous at times. I had fun filming them on the Bagmati River last week. I think they were actually hamming it up for the camera. Here’s a few seconds worth. Enjoy!
Over the last few weeks, I’ve noticed these billboards going up around Kathmandu. They are meant to be arresting and thought-provoking. And indeed they are. On so many levels… The problem of violence against women here is huge. It cuts across all income, caste, and cultural backgrounds (much like statistics elsewhere, I believe) but is so prevalent and yet largely unaddressed publicly in the mainstream media. Its not uncommon to hear NGO groups conduct awareness events or see street art with banners proclaiming “No to Violence Against Women and Girls”. But on a billboard sign, next to a supermarket, next to the ads for concrete and building supplies? Really? What does it mean?
It raised so many questions:
A magazine just for Nepali men… really? Actually, a magazine for relatively affluent, English-speaking, educated men. That’s a niche market alright. But is its big enough to sustain a magazine like this? What did they have to say? I took a look at their website and was pleasantly surprised. The articles were mostly about real issues rather than how to have tighter abs or buy flashy cars. Articles like Choices in Contraception speak to the absence of real information here on taboo subjects.
A magazine published here? Almost everything here in from China or India, or imported from elsewhere. Do they even have a high quality colour printing press in Kathmandu? Perhaps this particular niche market is one that already owns iPads and has easy internet access? Looking at their quality website, perhaps the main readership comes from an internet-based audience like so many magazines now in the developed world?
A magazine has the budget to advertise on billboards? Coca-cola, plywood, cement, rebar, paint and overseas educational opportunities… what else is there to advertise? Here in Kathmandu, little else it appears. If its not about construction (or the ubiquitous Coca-cola), then it seems there is no budget for billboards or posters. Then, suddenly there’s this. Maybe its not just about the cost?
What do men really think about this issue? Rape, sexual harassment in the office, feminism.. these are subjects that would be brave articles in Western mens’ magazines. Brave in the sense that it might turn off readers. I think its encouraging that Nepali editors are willing to take these subjects. But what do the male readers think?
What does this mean in terms of changing attitudes? Does this mean attitudes are changing? If gender-based violence cuts across all educational and economic backgrounds, will this eventually start to change with educated readers like this? Why does every young man I speak to say that women should be empowered and that violence against women is wrong. But there’s so little evidence that this is happening. Is it just lip service? Will only real change come when the country develops?
And you thought it was just another billboard!…….
I couldn’t resist. If it had been a notice about washing your hands, or turning off the lights, anything else really…. I would have left it unedited. But the subject made it too tempting to ignore. So I made the corrections:
Afterwards, I must say I felt guilty. Did I shame someone who’s already trying to work on their less than perfect English? Someone who may have poor English only because they never got the chance to study properly at school? Perhaps someone more sensitive than me took down the sign after I left? Ugh. I felt like a bad person.
Or maybe they appreciated it? The sign may have taught me a lesson too.
Not a very good quality shot–through our car’s glass window and then through the glass of their vehicle–but what an odd thing to see…. Grandma and baby with a monkey on top!
Last month in Pokhara, at about seven in the morning, I was leaving my room for breakfast before starting work with some students in a hotel across the street. I was thinking about whether I had enough pairs of scissors and where I put my presentation notes. So at first I didn’t look up. The night before had been stormy and drizzly, and it had been too miserable to go out and explore. So I had stayed in the room and had an early night. Yet, first thing the next morning, this is the view that greeted me. I had to go back for the camera:
There’s nothing like a little storm to clear the air first thing in the morning. And here clear air = stunning views of the Himalayans!
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