A Journey through the Earthquake Zone

By Shoib Ahmed, Field Director, SARID Pakistan

The last time I had visited Muzzafarabad was in 1992 when I went to see a friend. It was a jovial town with winding roads, a population that was at ease with its surroundings and was blessed to be living in a clean and healthy environment. The affluence of the city and the feeling well being was abundantly visible.

On October 15th, 2005, after nearly 13 ½ years, I embarked on a three-hour drive from Islamabad to visit the quake stricken city. Leaving Islamabad at 3:30 am in the morning, I approached the town of Muzzafarabad at about 6:30 am. The roads from Islamabad to most of the affected areas are now open, but there are broken/damaged patches near the quake area.

From a distance the city looked gloomy, and the overcast conditions seemed to enhance the gloominess. The moment I entered the city, I noticed the eerie quietness and the absence of the early morning hustle and bustle. As luck would have it, the heavens opened up and I was forced to park my car on the side, and wait for the rainfall to stop. It finally gave up after two hours and it was then that I was struck by the horror of the devastation to this city.

The streets were littered with masonry and concrete and houses were in a crumpled state. I say crumpled because that is what it looked like; the roofs of the houses were lying alongside the walls, and all kinds of masonry and bricks were scattered disjointly.

Muzzafarabad was a destroyed edifice to the strange workings of Mother Nature. By 8:30 am, I could see the residents of the city stirring. They were now looking towards the city entry points for the relief trucks. Some of them approached me and asked if I had any relief goods. When I offered money, they refused. One individual angrily said that he needed food for his children. Within thirty minutes, at about 9:00 am, the trucks started to come and the job of distribution started. There was chaos, but it was expected since people had been desperate for supplies. I took the next couple of hours to examine the destruction caused to the city and I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of damage.

In a small field in Muzaffarabad, I saw a small-tented hospital set up by the Russians who were busy with their patients in the squalid and wet surroundings. What was doubly strange is that the Kashmiris and Russians did not know how to communicate with each other. However, the doctors and nurses were willing to help anyone who came to them and understood the ailments and distress. Thay are doing excellent work. A few hundred yards away I saw a hospital set up by the Iranians where the will to heal evident in all the doctors and nurses. It is strange how only large disasters like this can make us realize the true worth of humanity.

From Muzzafarabad, I then moved north to try and reach the town of Balakot. On the way I passed several hillside dwellings that were flattened beyond recognition. I tried to climb a hill up to one of the villages, which was 800 meters further up from where I was, but could not do so because of the wet ground and loose earth. I then realized the difficulties one would have to surmount to even go to these villages. It was no wonder that helicopters alone were best suited to pass on the relief goods; unfortunately, they were in short supply.

Just short of Balakot, I saw a couple that was feeding about twenty children on the roadside. Their car had Rawalpindi number plates, so I stopped. On enquiry the gentleman stated that they were bringing cooked food every second day from Rawalpindi to feed the children. They felt that by doing this, they were helping in their own small way. I asked them for their names, but they refused and said that I should let their anonymity be their joy in helping the country.

I reached Balakot by about 11:30 am. The weather had cleared by now and the scenery of destruction was quite evident. Balakot has been destroyed and here the impact of the earthquake was utterly clear. There was a dearth of standing structures and the few left were amputated.

The area had an army relief camp nearby where people were receiving food, medicine, and clothing. In addition there were groups of volunteers who were tending to sick people, passing out food and clothing on their own. These were people who had come from all parts of the country. There were young as well as old people from Karachi, Hyderabad, Lahore, Multan, Faisalabad, Sialkot, Peshawer, Kohat, Rawalpindi and some others from the remote areas of NWFP. All these people had pitched in, in their own way, to help their brethren in whatever humble way it was possible.

I saw about seven relief camps, including Gharibullah village, mainly to disburse relief goods; there are no affected people living in them. There are also some tented villages coming up which hold about 400 to 500 persons. They are expected to grow to contain as much as 10,000 people, once sufficient tents are availiable.

By this time the chopper brigade had been cleared to fly and the flying activity was intense and purposeful. I asked a local about the people in the areas of the village beyond the mountains. He said that they were so remote that, if not destroyed, the majority of the residents were probably dead or too weak to trek across the slippery passes to reach help. Their only hope were the chopper sorties, which could not be easily done in bad weather. Balakot gave me the true extent of the disaster that had struck this region. I now had a clear picture as to what lay ahead for this nation. Pakistan needs to better prepare in earnest for any such future disasters.

I left for Rawalpindi at about 3:00 pm, arriving around 7:00 pm. On the way I saw numerous convoys of trucks, large cranes and lifting machinery trying to reach the affected areas. It was heartening to see how the establishment was in full swing to handle this gigantic crisis.

Later, when I was returning to Karachi on the evening of the 16th, I noticed members of the Japan Disaster Relief team on the same flight. On enquiry they informed me that they did not see any hopes of anyone surviving under the rubble for more than a week and were thus working out new strategies. I understood their reasoning, and even though chances may be slim, I still urgently hope that the world does not give up on the survivors and on their will to survive.