A first-hand look at the scale of the human tragedy and the challenges of humanitarian aid in Uttarakhand
Even as the media interest is slowly but surely waning, the tragedy of the floods in Uttarakhand is still unfolding. Even as the thousands of pilgrims have been either evacuated or pronounced dead, communities living in over 400 far-flung villages are still coming to grips with a landscape they no longer recognize. Whole mountain sides have slipped away as have the river banks, changing in a spectacularly sordid manner not just the landscape of the region but the futures of thousands of families. While hundreds of corpses may still lie strewn across the mountains, it’s those living in these parts that need to rebuild their lives and those of their children, who are probably the worst-hit.
Official estimates indicate that 1,227 children are still missing in Uttarakhand post the flashfloods in June and nearly 2.5 lakh children are currently out of school because while many schools have been entirely washed away, others have been transformed into shelters. At least 180 schools need repair and rebuilding. Assessment on the ground is being undertaken in bits and pieces, by the government and some NGOs who will help to restore lives of communities over several months from now.
The roads are surprisingly devoid of any traffic – I would have thought that there would have been a jam of vehicles, given the global coverage to the disaster. The roads are in a terrible condition, which should have kept away private vehicles, but I do not see as many relief vehicles as I would have expected. Among the locals, as part of the Save the Children team sent out to assess the destruction and provide some immediate relief, I could sense how the fear of rain is real in these parts following the devastating floods. Tilwara village, a part of the Agastyamuni stretch in Rudraprayag district, is the gateway to the disaster areas in Badrinath and Kedarnath. To travel to Tilwara from Rudraprayag – which would normally be a 9 km. –long journey on a highway (which has been washed away) -- we have to go over a mountain on an unused path from where the distance increases to 35 kms. The fear of landslides is a reality, especially after the heavy rains on 16-17-18 June weakened the mountain sides. Any further downpour of rain, even for 15 minutes, could make halt travel altogether. Therefore, as predictions are made of more heavy rains, the sense of danger is omnipresent.
Shocked by the unprecedented savagery unleashed by nature (and man?) there are several interpretations that the locals present about the disaster. As the vehicle traverses across the difficult road, one of the co-passengers (a local) asks the others: “Will humans learn a lesson now?” He is referring to the power grids and dams that have, according to him, tampered with nature and, according to many like him, dumped their rubble into the rivers making it impossible for rain water to flow steadily. There has also been a steady conversation around the common belief that man has been behaving in a very unholy manner on this holy land, where temples and the sacred Ganges reign. The consumption of meat and alcohol, for instance, was forbidden in these parts but is now commonplace, some people have pointed out, who see this tragedy as a warning from nature and the holy spirits. “After what has happened now, humans would be silly not to,” responds a co-passenger.
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| Houses have fallen into the Mandakini river at Tilwara |
After about 3 hours of a camel-back kind of a ride Tilwara suddenly pops into view. And it’s a sight that leaves nothing to the imagination. Whole sides of the village along the Mandakini have been carved out by a raging river, swallowing up bridges, homes, shops, restaurants, schools, colleges and every other man-made construction. When we get off, we are shown sites where the Saraswati Shishu Mandir and the Inter college were. We can see a whole river side with half-cut buildings dangling over the river laying bare the insides of the homes of many families. There are no fresh vegetables, fruits or other provisions reaching to Tilwara, so I can begin to visualize the plight of those up the road.
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| Houses, markets, schools...have all been washed away at Silli |
The vehicle moves on up the river, crossing a village called Silli on to Vijaynagar, which is my final destination and from where there is no road left at all. Enroute there are numerous spots where there should have been bridges and one can see many more riversides and mountain sides that have been swallowed by the river. On the other side of the Mandakini lies the Takshila High School, which was submerged in the floods and now -- with the water level having risen by about 20 metres – has water literally at its doorstep, which is a dangerous situation for its 700 students if there are more rains, as are predicted in the monsoon period which has just begun. As the vehicle is approaching Vijaynagar, a part of the road seems to disappear and the vehicle climbs up a rough patch on the hill. On the river side, there is not more than a foot of sandy soil separating the wheels from the ditch down to the river. On the hill side, there is a landslide area that seems to be fresh and has the bearing of something that can come alive anytime again.
Finally we’ve reached Vijaynagar and a short walk from where the vehicle stop, one can see the last few shops from where there is no more road. This is the last point of travel to Kedarnath now and it’s the place till where some relief material has reached.
Distribution of aid is a tricky business
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| The 1st beneficiaries of Save the Children's aid at Slli |
Each disaster has its peculiarities but this flooding is even more complex – since it’s over a large area of land where access has been limited, there is little information about the number of people impacted and indeed what their needs are. How many people are affected, in which parts of the state and what is the exact nature of their losses – nothing is clear even after a fortnight of the disaster. While working in earthquakes, cyclones and even the tsunami, I have never encountered such an abyss of information about the basic nature of the destruction and the extent of the damage wrought by it.
From Vijaynagar, some relief material is being sent ahead on ponies, which are limited and which have limitations of what they can carry and how fast. Among the casualties of the floods have been the animals, which include cattle and also ponies, a common mode of transportation in these parts. Where the shops end, there used to be the Saraswati Sishu Mandir, a 30-year-old school run by a national foundation that catered to over 200 children – now the river that has changed its course runs over it. There are areas that have been completely wiped out during the floods and at some places one can still see staircases leading to buildings that do not exist anymore.
A big problem during such emergencies is that well-meaning aid suppliers do not know that distribution of relief material is a tricky business -- and therefore truck loads of supplies are either held up along the way or unloaded for distribution in areas that are not the most affected, leaving little for those who need relief the most. There is a lack of understanding that identifying the type of relief material required for dispatch to disasters needs to be handled by experts; and that it also needs to be managed through a proper distribution system.
Several families who have lost their homes are taking refuge in the girl’s college campus, where the government is also operating a relief centre. Though there are many classrooms but there are only a few bathrooms and there is no kitchen facility here. The Member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA) for Kedarnath, Shailarani Rawat, happens to be on the spot, to oversee offloading from some trucks that have just arrived. I ask her what can be done for the affected people and especially the children, who are the most vulnerable during such emergencies? “There is a huge amount of rations (wheat flour and rice etc), blankets, biscuits and water bottles reaching the relief centres from the government, NGOs and private institutions and individuals,” she informs, “but what we need more are clothes, utensils and cooking stoves. What children will need in the coming months would be school uniforms and textbooks,” she says adding thoughtfully, “and maybe some toys too.”
It’s a pit peculiar that one cannot see many children in the villages I visited – they have obviously bee sent off to safer locations, especially since this is the period of summer holidays. When the children return, psycho-social support for them would be critical, it’s obvious, and this would include peer interactions which concepts such as Save the Children’s Child-Friendly Spaces can facilitate. Since parents need to focus on what needs to be done to cope with the crisis, such a facility -- which ensures protection and care of children has proven to be very useful.
There are over 25 families taking shelter in the college campus and one can see a few army personnel also temporarily halting here. “Where will we go when the schools and colleges reopen, since our homes have been washed away and we have nowhere to rebuild them?” asks a grandmother, who is there with about 10 family members including children. Her daughter echoes the MLA’s words regarding the needs of those affected. “What’s the use of giving us rations every day, when we have no means to cook?” she says. “Also where will we stock all these heavy bags, when we don’t even have a place to sleep?” A man, who seems to have returned from a trip to the shops that still have some supplies of essential items, points out, “I am still wearing the same clothes as on the day I fled from my home, in fact most of us are having only one set of clothes.”
There is a relief distribution being conducted on the street by a local committee where I meet a woman who had come looking for relief with her young daughter, who must be about 10-years-old. She has been told that her name is not on the list of beneficiaries. I guide her to the girl’s college campus. Information, about where to access aid and the entitlements of those affected, is another problem.
Severe impact of the disaster on children
As expected, the people affected by the disaster are not just waiting for help to arrive but are going about doing whatever they can to ensure the safety of their loved ones. While looking for a vehicle to return to move back, I meet Dhirendra Lal, 42-years-old, and his son and two daughters who have climbed down over 20 kms from their village called Chandrapuri. He has left his wife and an infant behind to leave the other three children with his in-laws who can look after them in Gunou village, which is 10 kms away, since their own home is badly damaged and all their possessions have been washed away. He says that he was not at home when the disaster struck -- since he lives and works in Sonprayag in a hotel. When it became evident that there was a disaster, he had feared the worst and he quickly made his way back to his village where his family lived even as the heavy rains continued to pelt down. A bridge had been washed away so his trek was longer and more arduous than ever before. Luckily for him, his wife had managed to rescue their four children, as well as their cow, which is an even more valuable asset considering that they own nothing else now.
How has the trauma affected his family and the children? “All the children scream at night,” Lal informs and says that they are quieter now during the day. I ask Ankita, the elder of the two daughters how she reacted to the floods. “I ran and ran,” she replies in a murmur, “and continued running. It felt as if the water was chasing me forever.” I ask Ankush what does he need now, the most? “A home,” he replies, “somewhere where I can be safe from floods and stay with my parents.”
Two of Lal’s daughters are in classes 7th and 5th and his son is in 2nd class. What about their schooling? When will they resume their studies? “I don’t know,” he says. “We have lost everything we had – my priority is to find a way to rebuild our lives.” It will be many months before his three children are able to go back to school, he fears, even as he confirms that he will need help to get them uniforms and books. Finally, I ask Lal about the relief that he has received. “Nothing,” he replies. “Nobody has even come to meet us as yet. We have little to eat and that’s why I am dropping three of my children at our relative’s house. When I go back, I will reconstruct my home. Hopefully there will still be work for me, since now there are no pilgrims coming to stay in hotels.”
We inform him about a relief camp that is providing food and other essential items in neighboring Silli village and he says that he will surely halt there on his way back -- though he does not know how he can carry heavy provisions through the mountains to where his home was. The road to his village will take months to repair but some relief material is now being carried to such cut-off villages on ponies now. The only fear is that with much of the relief supplies having being hurriedly dumped in easier to access areas, will relief continue to come, when the media attention dies out in the coming weeks?
Many challenges remain
At the bus stop too, I meet with a bunch of professional rescuers who have come from Maharashtra – they are specialists in dealing with dead bodies – and they have been to the upper reaches of the mountains over the last week or so. They claim that they have had to turn back from areas where there are hundreds of dead bodies lying unattended. There is not enough wood available for cremation of such a large number of bodies. They say that these bodies have worms coming out of their orifices and that they cannot be lifted as they have decomposed -- and that they must therefore be cremated on the spot. The fear of an epidemic, apart from the foul stench in such areas, is a reality that could percolate to villages located in safer areas. And this could also affect relief workers who go into the new areas without adequate protection.
The next day at a relief distribution in Silli village I met with a 70-year-old widow, Bhisheshwari Devi whose husband passed away about a year ago. She lived a quiet life along the banks of the Mandakini river, until one the fateful morning of June 16. It had been raining for a while when she was busy preparing a cup of tea for herself. Suddenly she began to hear the sound of people shouting on the road outside her house. She saw people were running helter skelter. One man turned to her and yelled at her, “Run. Run for your life!” Then she saw the river spilling in through her house and before she could even think of entering her house, she had only one choice – to run.
She ran and climbed onto higher ground, as fast as she could with legs not used to running but strong because of a life lived in the hills. As she took shelter in a neighbour’s house, she took one last look at her house and the swelling waters -- that swam like a mirage in the pouring rain. She knew, somehow, even though it was unimaginable, that her house would be gone when she would come out to look at it again. It rained and rained for more than a day, harder and longer than ever before it seemed. And when she dared to step out and locate her house, it was gone; as were all the other houses, shops and restaurants alongside it. Her tears merged with the rain and fell on the hallowed ground, the revered hills that surround the river that became the holy Ganges when it merges with other rivers along its way.
She seemed to be more stoic as she received the aid from Save the Children in Silli village, in the Agastyamuni stretch of Rudraprayag in Uttarakhand – the gateway to the biggest disaster, whose tally of death and destruction will probably never be known. She is hurt but she has seen life and knows how to not grieve in public. There will be many more widows like her for sure – most of the men who worked in the higher reaches of Badrinath and Kedarnath will never be coming back to their homeless homes.
I asked her, as she stood by the food kit and hygiene kit that was given to her, “What kind of aid do you want now?” She replied, without having to think too long, “A place to stay. Though I have many relatives and friends around here who have known me for many years and who are kind to me, ultimately I will need a place of my own again, won’t I?”
Since her property may be considered to be an illegal construction, deemed to have been built too close to the river bank, she does not expect any great help from the government in terms of relocating her. But she is hopeful, that someone somewhere will show a humanitarian response, to her and many others like her, who lived a contented life and prayed to the gods and the spirits that are so integral to these holy hills. And who (the spirits and Gods) have punished the people for leading a wrong life, modern but erroneous and given in to all the ills of our times. Her trust in Shiva is unshakeable: “God has wreaked havoc – and he’ll find a way to rescue those of us who continue to pray to him.”
On the return journey the vehicle crosses Silli, then Rudraprayag and it seems that the weather and conditions have held out very well over this 2-day trip, even though rains were predicted. Then just as the vehicle is approaching Srinagar, a cloud of dust starts to descend on the vehicle. The experienced driver brakes promptly and drives back as quickly as he can over a crumbling patch of road. Through the front windscreen we see a big boulder roll past the road into the river. It’s an ominous reminder that here in the hills of the Gods, all’s not well yet – climate change, overpopulation, rampant over-development of residences and other buildings in precarious locations in a scenario where more landslides, floods and earthquakes in a region (which is a part of the rising Himalayan range) can be expected and not always predicted. These are issues that needs to be discussed and debated now that the Breaking News is done if are to prepare for disaster and to avert it.
