I was tempted to shelve this piece in favor of a more immediate censure of the aviation industry. However, we often get so caught up in the news cycle that there is immediate analysis of various crises at hand but as those events change constantly, so do our attention. Instead, a review of last year’s crash provides lessons beyond “what happened?” or “who is at fault?” which are important questions in their own right.
Some accidents are to be expected in Nepal, particularly given the small airports and difficult terrain here. The political economy further limits aviation safety as airlines increasingly choose “cheap” over “safe” and cut corners, blaming “competitive forces” in the industry. Numerous aviation reviews take place—a board has already been formed to investigate the latest accident—but the recommendations rarely translate into effective policy change. The cacophony following each accident gets drowned out until the next one temporarily resumes the stop-gap debate.
The stories that have emerged in Kotdada over the last year highlight some of the challenges Nepalis face in relation to public administration. The focus on the aviation industry is necessary but it still masks wider failings in the system. These failings are the focus of this piece.
‘THIEF IN UNIFORM’
Kotdada villagers were among the first to respond to the crash. Adults and children alike were greeted with littered body parts, and many returned because they could not deal with the sight of the tragedy. The curious endured the horror to investigate further.
Two policemen showed up on a motorcycle and began rummaging through the dead bodies and gathering expensive possessions. They pocketed a lot of jewelry, mobile phones and cash. While there, they received a phone call and reported that they had not reached the crash site yet, even as they were busy profiting from the misfortune. After collecting their bounty, the offenders promptly left, leaving the tragedy behind.
Such immoral actions from the so-called protectors raise significant concerns. The policemen not only pocketed a profit from these deaths but also failed to respond to the only immediate survivor. Eighteen passengers died immediately but everyone remembers the nineteenth, a middle-aged man, who was shouting for help from the bushes. He repeatedly claimed that he would live if they just took him to the hospital. Where the police failed, the villagers sprung to action and rushed him downhill.
The tragedy had become a spectacle so the helpers were slowed down by the upward foot traffic. The rain did not help, as the footpath was slippery and dangerous. They met a police van on the way and requested them to turn around to rush the survivor to the hospital. The police brushed them off, saying they had to reach the site immediately. One cannot help but be cynical and wonder whether these “officers” were also looking to share in the bounty.
Regardless, the villagers were once again entrusted responsibility as those responsible let them be. It took them two hours to get to the hospital. The passenger had been talking throughout the journey, reporting where he was injured and expressing confidence that he would survive. Those who carried him get teary even now as they report that he breathed his last just as he reached the hospital, and was pronounced dead on arrival.
The multiple failings of the police to deal with this tragedy barely require enunciation. This was an opportunity for the protectors to side with the people and help them make sense of the tragedy. Instead, their actions were consistently selfish, senseless, and immoral. When this is the image that those entrusted with protecting the people project, people lose faith in the state and the system.
PLACING KOTDADA
When I mention to people in Kathmandu that I have been living in Kotdada, most people who can place the village do so because they remember the fateful plane crash a year ago. The external identity of the village has thus been intricately tied to this event. The village itself has not been able to shake away the memories of that crash either.
Kotdada is not a rural village in Far-Western Karnali (the go-to place to talk about development problems in the country). The village overlooks the urban sprawl of Kathmandu valley. The village falls under the jurisdiction of a powerful Maoist minister elected from Lalitpur. Yet, when a plane crashed and a life was at stake, it took the villagers two hours to get the passenger to a hospital.
Despite being within spitting distance from the capital, the village remains patchily connected to the city because effective roadway networks have not been developed yet. If the existing roads were to be upgraded to facilitate vehicular movement with immediate effect, villagers would get easy access to health and other essential services. It would also ease mobility to aid education and employment pursuits for the villages. If health and transportation services had been more readily available to Kotdada residents, at least one passenger might have survived the disaster.
FIRST ANNIV OF KOTDADA CRASH
The stories that have emerged in Kotdada over the last year highlight some of the challenges Nepalis face in relation to public administration.
The lack of follow up mechanisms after tragedies is also glaring. Most notably, as children commute to the local community school, their conversations often turn to the vivid images they encountered that day. They witnessed disemboweled bodies, littered organs, and disturbing deaths. Even adults could not sleep for days, and no one has bothered to investigate the potential long term effects of the traumatic experience. As state mechanisms look to respond to other tragedies, such as the Sita Air crash, they would do well to widen their scope to address the needs of all those affected by such tragedies.
Village perceptions of the lack of transparency mechanisms are also important. For instance, there are rumors that police personnel involved with scouring the victims have been punished, but they cannot confirm so. They do not know the extent or manner of the punishment anyways. Further, they complain that most reports end up blaming “human error” for crashes, thereby blaming “victims” who cannot return to defend themselves. Lessons and findings must thus be shared with wider communities, particularly those directly affected, to provide some catharsis and closure to those events.
THE MAD DOG
A dog allegedly devoured some human remains at the crash site in Kotdada last year. Children now claim that the dog has gone mad, and maintain a fearful distance. Dogs are considered to be protectors in the Nepali context but this dog has become a threat instead.
The dog is not only a constant reminder of that fateful crash but also a symbol of the fear that lives on in the village. One cannot help but wonder about the symbolic dog that is the state, and particularly the police, and whether it will be a friend or a foe to villagers in Kotdada, the banks of Manohara, and beyond.
shrochis@gmail.com
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