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07 Mar 2016

9 months after the quake, a UNESCO heritage site awaits reconstruction in Nepal

By Ritu Panchal

The ancient city of Bhaktapur, a former capital of Nepal, is home to one of the country’s most famous historic attractions: the Bhaktapur Durbar Square. Nine months after the earthquake, tourism is slowly recovering, but in the historic centre, which is a UNESCO World Heritage site, the crumbling remains of half-destroyed temples and damaged houses can still be seen. As with all of Nepal’s damaged heritage sites, reconstruction is in a state of limbo, pending funds from the National Reconstruction Authority, the body responsible for distributing earthquake relief funds.

‘Durbar Square’ is the name given to plazas and community gathering spaces outside the old royal palaces of Nepal. They were built by the inhabitants of Kathmandu, the Newaris. The Bhaktapur Durbar Square is well known throughout the valley for its impressive temples and is frequented by tourists and devotees alike. It also acts as a casual meeting place for those who have been living in this historic town for generations. Photo: Namita Rao

Bhaktapur was one of the most badly affected districts by the earthquakes, with nearly 28,000 homes damaged and more than 300 deaths. Across the entire district, more than 2,000 people are still living in displacement sites and in the old city centre, the scattered remains of homes are a reminder that the earthquake did a lot more than just physical damage here. Photo: Ritu Panchal

A man sits in the damaged entrance to a temple.

It is a very common site to see a grid of bamboo poles supporting old, historic monuments in the narrow winding streets of Bhaktapur. However, serious reconstruction work is yet to take place, and the Department of Archaeology says it has not received any budget from the government for this purpose. According to the Post-Disaster Needs Assessment report, the rebuilding of 750 damaged cultural, historical and religious monuments across Nepal will cost an estimated Rs 20.55 billion [£131 million]. Photo: Ritu Panchal

Wooden beams, such as those lining the walls of the National Art Museum, support many of the buildings in Bhaktapur Durbar Square. The museum, which contains ancient paintings and artefacts from Hindu and Buddhist traditions, is scheduled to undergo renovation, like a lot of the other damaged government buildings in the city. Photo: Ritu Panchal

A set of two stone lions stand on their own in Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square. It is thought that the temple they used to guard was destroyed by the 1934 earthquake, the worst in Nepal’s history. Nearly a third of the city’s temples and buildings were destroyed in that earthquake, which measured 8.0 in magnitude.

A set of stone lions stand on their own in Bhaktapur’s Durbar Square. It is thought that the temple they used to guard was destroyed by the 1934 earthquake, the worst in Nepal’s history. Nearly a third of the city’s temples and buildings were destroyed in that earthquake, which measured 8.0 in magnitude. Photo: Naomi Mihara

Children play on the stone animals guarding the entrance to the Siddhi Laxmi temple, a 17th-century temple which escaped relatively unscathed from the earthquake.

Children play on the stone animals guarding the entrance to the Siddhi Laxmi temple, a 17th-century structure that escaped the earthquake relatively unscathed. Photo: Naomi Mihara

Bhaktapur is famous for its traditional pottery industry, and is home to two ‘pottery squares’ where rows of clay pots can be seen drying in the sun. The potters are particularly busy during the Tihar festival of lights, one of the biggest festivals in Nepal, making diyekos [earthen lamps] which are then filled with oil and lit outside each household. In Hinduism, fire is an important symbol of cleansing and purification and its light dispels gloom and darkness. Photo: Ritu Panchal

Several of Bhaktapur’s main temples, including the five-storey Nyatapola, Nepal’s tallest temple, suffered remarkably little damage. The Nyatapola temple has now survived four major earthquakes because of the traditional earthquake-resistant design elements that went into building it. Photo: Ritu Panchal

The remains of the Fasidega temple. This temple was built as a homage to Lord Shiva, but the monument at the top of the steps was destroyed by the 1934 earthquake. The replacement, built in white using modern motifs, stood out conspicuously amid the traditional design of the other temples of Bhaktapur before its destruction in the 2015 earthquake. Photo: Naomi Mihara

Right at the centre of Bhaktapur Durbar Square lies a 15th-century palace, sections of which collapsed in the recent quake. The interior has remained closed since the 1934 earthquake. The courtyard surrounding it still lies in ruins and the uncleared debris from the broken down buildings has now become a part of the temple complex. Photo: Namita Rao

A side-street with stalls and shops for tourists

After the quake, Nepal’s tourism industry was deeply affected. As soon as travellers and tourists started to regain their confidence to backpack through this Himalayan region, the fuel crisis caused by the border blockade infiltrated all aspects of life in Nepal. However, according to recent figures released by the Bhaktapur Municipality Tourism Service Centre, tourism is on the rise again, with more than 10,000 visitors from mid-October to mid-November 2015. Photo: Namita Rao

19 Jan 2016

In the time of fuel crisis: commuting in Nepal

By Patrick Ward

For months now, Nepal has been facing a fuel crisis. Buses in Kathmandu are packed at the best of times, but the protests over the country’s new constitution and the resultant border blockade have worsened the situation considerably. There are fewer vehicles on the road now—owners have been forced to leave their empty-tanked cars and bikes at home—and hence an increasing reliance on buses. Here’s a glimpse of daily life during the fuel crisis.

Dozens of people gather at Lagankhel bus station, listening as conductors call out their buses’ destinations. You have to be quick if you want a seat, or standing room, or something to hang on to. Photo: Patrick Ward

Dozens of people gather at Lagankhel bus station, one of the major transport hubs for travel within the Kathmandu Valley, listening as conductors call out their buses’ destinations. You have to be quick if you want a seat, or standing room, or something to hang on to. Photo: Patrick Ward

It’s not an easy school run, as people flock to the buses in the hope of squeezing themselves onboard. The brave, and desperate, scramble up the back of the bus to perch on the roof. I don’t think this one will have quite enough room for me, despite the reassurances of the bus workers (who will routinely attempt to fill every inch of space with passengers). I decide to wait, there is bound to be space in one of the larger buses… Photo: Patrick Ward

…or not. Even the larger vehicles on longer routes are full to bursting. Photo: Patrick Ward

…or not. Even the buses on longer routes are full to bursting, with passengers finding foot-room among sacks of rice, cooking gas canisters and various other pieces of luggage. Photo: Patrick Ward

Here’s part of the problem. A kilometre-long line of buses waits for fuel at a petrol station. Stocks are only occasionally replenished, and it is common for drivers to wait several days to refuel. Some sit in their buses playing cards, some just go home and wait. Photo: Patrick Ward

Rajul Mahnama waits by his minibus for fuel on Kathmandu's Ring Road. Like many others, he has been waiting days for a much-needed refill.

Rajul Mahnama waits in the line with his minibus. “I have been trying to get fuel for five days,” he tells me. “I’ve been here waiting with my bus all day, and I’m near the front, so I am hoping I will be lucky.”Photo: Patrick Ward

This is the view you want to see the most – the inside of a bus, sparsely packed enough to allow the arm movement required to take a photo. These early morning commuters have been smart enough to travel before rush hour, which sometimes helps. Photo: Patrick Ward

These early morning commuters have been smart enough to travel before rush hour, which sometimes helps. Photo: Patrick Ward

If that’s not possible, why not try the scenic option? Squeeze up together on the roof rack to get a nice view of the surroundings, but be careful to duck your head to avoid overhead power lines, or you’re liable to lose your hat, or worse. Seriously. Take it from someone who knows. Photo: Patrick Ward

If sightseeing isn’t on the agenda, there are always other options. This truck carried dozens of commuters into the village of Sangachok in Sindhupalchok. The sheer number of passengers disembarking suggests there are more comfortable ways to travel. Photo: Patrick Ward

If sightseeing isn’t on the agenda, there are always other options. This truck pulled up carrying dozens of commuters into the village of Sangachok in Sindhupalchok, in the wake of several severely overloaded public buses. Photo: Patrick Ward

But at the end of the day, when you see a scene like this one, at the Ekantakuna junction of the Kathmandu Ring Road, it might be time to give up. Perhaps a walk home doesn’t sound so bad, after all. Photo: Patrick Ward

27 Oct 2015

After The Earthquake: 8 Compelling Images Of Dashain

By Chris Maxted

Dashain, the longest and most auspicious festival on the Nepali calendar, came to an end early this week. It was largely a subdued affair, particularly for those who lost their houses in the earthquake six months ago. Chris Maxted recorded how people in Gorkha—one of the severely affected areas, where many now live in temporary shelters—celebrated the 15-day festival.

“This Dashain festival is a sad one for many,” said Kshitiz Paudel, Medical Director at the rural Amppipal Hospital, Gorkha. “But there are also a great number of people who feel they still have a reason to celebrate and give thanks.” This time of year sees families travelling, often great distances, to be with loved ones for the undisputed high point of the Nepali calendar. But with many village houses deemed unfit for habitation, the people living in makeshift shelters have marked the first Dashain since the earthquake as a time for reflection.

Little Saroj Bhujel, 8, of Malatagaira was watching cartoons on his bed when the earthquake struck, destroying his house. “Everything is ruined. We are all living in tents,” he said. ”It is not the same anymore and Dashain is not a celebration this year.”

His mother, Bhagbati Thapa, as matriarch of the family, receives kinfolk from far and wide to bestow tika, a significant blessing of good fortune for the coming year. “This is an important tika for us,” added Krishna. “We have to hope for the future.” Their house may be irreparably damaged, but it was still put to good use by the thirty friends and relatives who congregated outside in its shade to eat, chat and play games. For this Dashain, as in previous years, the hills of Gorkha resound with drumming, singing and laughter well into the early hours.

$After healing the initial fractures, cuts and bruises caused by the earthquake, at Amppipal Hospital they have seen a lot of post-traumatic stress cases among the farming communities in that part of Gorkha. “They just need someone to talk to. I have counselled some very anxious farmers who are unsure about what the coming season will bring,” said Paudel. “But the Nepali people are resilient. They will work together to find a way.”$

After healing the initial fractures, cuts and bruises caused by the earthquake, at Amppipal Hospital they have seen a lot of post-traumatic stress cases among the farming communities in that part of Gorkha. “They just need someone to talk to. I have counselled some very anxious farmers who are unsure about what the coming season will bring,” said Paudel. “But the Nepali people are resilient. They will work together to find a way.”

Villagers apportioning buffalo meat. During Dashain, outside every Hindu house, the ground is first sanctified and then either a buffalo or a goat is sacrificed. Eventually, the meat is used for the preparation of a big feast.

Devi Pokharel of Phalam Khani waits by the side of the road with her goat, for a crowded bus to take them the dusty 150km to Kathmandu. Normally her whole family returns to her village for the festival. “Now my house is gone, and I have to get to the city because no-one will come here,” she added. “It is far, and very tiring for me. The fuel problem means it is expensive to travel now and there is very little room on the bus. Without cooking gas in the city I have to pay someone else 2000 rupees (US$20) to butcher and prepare the goat for the feast. If others would have come here, we could have done everything ourselves.”

Chris Maxted is a former schoolteacher from the UK, now a private tutor in Hong Kong. A regular visitor to Nepal, he was in the Gorkha district as a volunteer for the Gorkha Foundation.

26 Oct 2015

Six months on, the village of Chimling Beshi awaits revival

By Naomi Mihara

The villagers of Chimling Beshi had an incredible escape from death in April. Nearly every house here suffered severe damage in the earthquake, but Chimling Beshi, which falls under Sindhupalchok, the district most affected by the disaster, lost no lives. “It was truly a miracle,” said Ram Parajuli, one of the survivors. As the disaster made their old settlement more vulnerable to landslides, the villagers have now relocated, building temporary shelters using the tin sheets they could salvage from the ruins of their houses and bamboo from the jungle. Six months after the earthquake, Naomi Mihara and Ritu Panchal visit the community.

Villagers celebrate Dashain festival in Chimling Beshi, Sindupalchok.

Dashain, the longest and most auspicious festival on the Nepalese calendar, came just six months after the earthquake. Festivities this year were understandably muted, and many villagers are waiting for the government to distribute the promised compensation so that they can move out of temporary shelters.

Ram Sharan Parajuli next to his old house.

Ram Parajuli, in front of the remains of his old house. It’s hard to imagine that just six months ago there were habitable structures here. The wilderness has devoured everything. Unruly weeds grow on stray bricks, long wooden beams look like they have been carelessly tossed around, and bits of broken furniture poke out of the overgrowth. Ram has no choice but to face this sight every day, for his cows are still housed in a small shed here.

Inside the temporary shelter, which the residents built themselves from tin sheets and bamboo.

The shelters are small and cramped, especially during the festival season, when many relatives come to stay. At night, you can hear the sounds of TVs blaring from the different shelters, and there is little privacy.

“If I had one wish in the whole world it would be to have my own house where my family can live happily and I can study,” says 13-year-old Bigyan Parajuli. “We don’t have enough space here. It is always crowded. People get drunk and fight outside and others play the TV loudly. I cannot study properly.” Bigyan knows the only way to forge a better future is to get a good education. “I think I might become an engineer someday.”

Villagers now have to hike to the old village site some distance away to tend to their fields and animals, fetch water, and cut grass. Education has suffered further, as it now takes more time for school children to finish their chores.

Bal Kumari Parajuli used to live in a two-storey house, built just four years ago, with her children and grandchildren. After the earthquake her son decided to move with his family to Kathmandu, because his children were terrified of another earthquake. Now, she misses her family. She and her husband cannot move because they have animals to look after in Chimling Beshi.

07 Sep 2015

Slowly, A Town Begins Its Journey Of Recovery

By Pushkala Aripaka

Sankhu, 17-km north-east of Kathmandu, witnessed severe destruction in the April 25 earthquake and the May 12 aftershock. Many of the houses in this historic town were damaged, and it suffered a death toll of 300. In the immediate days after, Sankhu figured prominently in the media, as an illustration of the destruction suffered by small towns and villages around Nepal. Four months on, Pushkala Aripaka visits the rural town—and finds the community attempting to rebuild their lives amidst fears of another quake.

A view of Sankhu from one of the tallest buildings in the town.

The view from one of the tallest buildings in the town. Much of the rubble has been cleared. To the left, you can see the green fields where the community grows wheat and maize.

Residents work to clear debris. As in many other towns across Nepal, this is a common sight in Sankhu.

Bricklaying and reconstruction have become the norm in this town of farmers. But for the earthquake, the residents would be working in their fields now.

Clay and perseverance bind the houses. Residents say the government compensation of Rs 15,000 is far from enough.

Panchakumari Shrestha had a narrow escape when her house collapsed and she was trapped under rubble. She has trouble sleeping now. When she is awake, she worries about the cost of rebuilding her house.

Lakshman Shrestha clears the rubble of his house following the Nepal earthquake.

Lakshman Shreshtha thought his wife had perished in the earthquake. Only after six days did he find she was alive. Now, he worries every time there is a tremor.

Two women in Sankhu with a water fountain

A young girl waits for her friend to finish drinking at a water tap, moving her feet in rhythm, before they return to work.

The sun shines into a tunnel of debri in Sakhu, Nepal, after the earthquake.

This battered house and debris is symbolic of Sankhu’s journey: the light of life has passed through a dark tunnel, only to slowly find light once again.