If you’re like me and you have vivid dreams then this week has been full of vivid nightmares.[break]
Not only am I actually feeling earthquakes that aren’t happening (it’s usually just my imagination) but falling asleep is a mammoth task all on its own (I keep imagining the walls crumbling while I’m snoring away and replaying how I’d throw on my jumper, pull up my sneakers and pick up my small bag.
I then stress about whether my family would wake up and if we’d be able to dash for the door in time).So all this means, I’ve got major heart palpitations and at 25 I really don’t need them.
Needless to say, it’s been a stressful few days and I’m sure most Kathmanduites can concur.
It also doesn’t help that I almost always remember my dreams and the images play in my head all day long.
So now not only am I dreaming of a real big earthquake striking us at the Kathmandu Fashion Parade but I’m also wondering how many could and would have survived.
I’m also being optimistic and imagining all my family survives such a catastrophe, which, you’d think, would offer some solace, but then that only leads me to my next source of heart attack - stressing about how we are going to survive the days after.
Food and shelter is the number one enemy in a situation like this, and in my imagination and nightmares.
I wonder if we have enough Korean noodles to last us a week and whether we can pull a tarp over our heads to save us from the wind and rain.
This also means I hope we don’t get stuck in the heart of winter where the cold will kill half the survivors.
I wonder if and when USAID drops packets of biscuits from helicopters in the air whether we’ll be able to catch any or if we’ll have to fight others like savages. And, I think of how long before we can contact our loved ones overseas to say ‘aal eej (mostly) well’.
At this point, I start thinking of the lootings and rapes that could very well take over the city as is the norm for any place that’s been throttled to its core (save for Japan, but the Japanese are on a league of their own) and if you promise not to judge me, I’m near peeing in my own pants.
Why on earth am I scaring myself? I don’t know, but it’s not intentional, it’s just that this earthquake has shaken me to the core (yes, pun intended).
It’s no secret that Kathmandu is isolated. And we’ve all witnessed overnight price hikes when bandas occur in the Madhesh region, and food, clothing, medicine, etc cannot be hauled in by the truckloads through (Bhaktapur, yes but more importantly) Thankot.
When an earthquake strikes the city, if it’s of the magnitude that is expected, the roads leading into Kathmandu will be dirt at best, and more likely and at worst, non-existent.
This would mean all the food in Kathmandu is all that we have. Make that - medicine, gas, and the works all included. Of course at this point I’m freaking out, but I’m also incredibly thankful to the otherwise cursed truck drivers.
If it weren’t for them lining up in Thankot in the hot sun to be permitted to drive in at night, if it weren’t for them sneaking around the city in the middle of the day to meet delivery deadlines and if it weren’t for them spending hours and hours on the horrible roads to Kathmandu it would be tantamount to an earthquake every day.
Where would we in Kathmandu be without them lugging in our goods and necessities and wants? Don’t just think boras of our staple diet, but also of saline water, toilet paper, paracetamol, cheese balls and you get the idea: E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.
I know I’m not the only one to have cursed the truck drivers when they spit their exhaust fumes into the depths of my soul or when they drive through Kathmandu in the middle of the day and hog up the entire lane and clog all the main traffic points. But, without them we’d be starved, naked and cold on a daily basis.
Okay, maybe not that dramatic since Kathmandu is an urban area (which - if I remember 9th grade Social Studies class right - is different to cities as they do not produce (enough) food to feed itself and has to import it, but I could have this backwards or something, so correct me if I’m wrong).
And we do have some rice fields, especially in the outskirts like where I live. Still, it can’t possibly be enough for the city to ration till IRC, Doctors without Borders, UNHCR (or, what’s their IDPs/non-refugee oriented body since we aren’t be refugees in our own country) and other disaster organizations clear red tape in head quarters and set up camp for us here.
All to say, while I’m beyond scared of the oncoming earthquake and while going to bed has proven to be quite a challenge, somewhere between practicing the evacuation drill in my head and freaking out about low food supplies in the Valley, I’ve learned to be grateful for the truck drivers and their massive vehicles that plow the streets of our beloved city.
Funny where and how we find things to appreciate, huh?
The views and opinions expressed are solely of the authors. For more nepali keti visit nepaliketi.net.
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