Im up at 5.40am to meet SuAs at 6. I have to wake one of the staff to let me out of the hotel. SuAs and I walk to the bus park and step straight onto the bus Lamosanghu in the Sindhupalchok area. This is his home village and he has invited me to visit his family. It’s a 3-hour trip so we decide to go out and back in one day but as the day unfolds, it’s obvious we won’t get back tonight. I haven’t prepared for an overnight stay but SuAs is adamant it will be fine to stay at his home. SuAs’s English is not good so our communications are often confused. I’m happy to go with what ever happens but events with SuAs often turn out differently to what I think the plan is. SuAs is a student, finishing his Journslism qualifications. He lives in Kathmandu with his sister but his family home is in Lamosanghu.
We reach Lamosanghu later than planned but SuAs wants to take me further. The damage from the quake is very evident the whole way. The road follows a beautiful river and there are many villages taking advantage, being perched on the river’s side. This didn’t spare them from the quake. It looks like a war zone. In places, houses and businesses sit in their half destroyed state. Businesses continue in the safer buildings, though they don’t look safe to me. Life goes on! Either side of the river are steep mountain ranges. It’s a remarkable looking landscape, badly scared by landslides and broken lives. We walk for a while to view one of the bigger landslides. It’s so incredible to see because a huge slice of the mountain has simply collapsed into the river. This didn’t happen at the time of the quake but the quake did weaken the landscape. Weeks passed and as the communities were trying to deal with the devastation of the earthquake, all hell broke loose here again. Around midnight the mountain side conceded and slipped into the river over the top of a small village. A single photo cannot capture the scale of this thing. SuAs explains that 160 people died that night, no doubt in their beds. And the dead most likely still remain buried under the rubble here, although there is nothing here to indicate this or memorialise the event. The river was blocked and had to be freed with explosives.
SuAs and I jump on a bus to continue on. He’s poor English makes it unclear where we are going. I eventually workout he wants to show me a bungy-jumping site. Okay, not really that interesting but let’s go. The bus breaks down and passengers simply disembark and start walking. SuAs wants to walk on to the bunjy but I protest so we catch a bus back to Lamosanghu. Now to walk up to his home. I imagined some walking up because Nepal is all about walking up. But I wasn’t mentally prepared how far up. We must have walked for nearly an hour to get to his home. On the way we pass a huge abandoned magnasite processing plant. I think they crush the ruck and make cement. It survived the quake but sits here quietly rusting and visually polluting the landscape. Houses are splattered all over this steep hill. They are vegetable and grain farmers and, surprisingly, chicken farmers. There are many big sheds where chickens are being fattened for meat. The crops are growing in typical Nepalese style layered paddocks. Water freely flows from springs. We come to a school, yes a school all the way up here. Working on constructing a new school building are a group of young Europeans, volunteering. The building is of a very unusual construction. Straw and mud make up the wall of a circular shaped building. The tin roof is going on and the electrician is busy doing the wiring. This is a unique design and is the brainchild of one of the group. It will certainly be quake proof.
We go up further and behind another chicken shed is SuAs’s home, finally. We met his father and uncles working in the fields as we were walking up. At home are his mother, aunt and three children. Their home was a 2-story stone building but the quake has reduced it to one, like nearly every home on this mountain. They sleep in tin sheds beside the wreck of a home. The goats bed in the house. SuAs’s mum is beautiful in her traditional dress. Their life seems simple but hard. His father arrives with swathes of millet on his back, harvested in the layered fields below. He is 65. He dispairs at not having a proper house now for his family. None of the family speaks English and SuAs speaks it sparingly. Communication is difficult. After tea SuAs, his father and I walk to a nearby basic store for a beer. The construction team building the school are there and it’s good to have a chat.
UNFINISHED
angusmccoll 