On Many Streets of Muzaffarabad, the Earthquake Destroyed Everything

Posted: 16 October 2005

Brigitte Overtop, a program worker from Oxfam Netherlands, recently took a trip to some of the areas hit the hardest by the earthquake in Pakistan. Following is her account of a trip to Muzaffarabad.

After a somewhat tense night in Abbottabad, with an aftershock of 5.5 on the Richter scale practically knocking me out of bed, I make plans to visit the region affected by the earthquake. I will travel with Dr. Manzoor, a Pakistani doctor working for Sungi, our most important local relief partner in Pakistan.

We leave at the crack of dawn. Abbottabad itself, about 56 miles north of Islamabad, was badly hit by the earthquake. The town's mosque, a shopping center, many compound walls, and several school buildings all collapsed, killing at least 70 people.

Despite the early hour the road to Mansehra – our first destination – is already packed with cars and vans containing blankets and clothes. We end up in a traffic jam before reaching the city, where we have a meeting scheduled with Plan Pakistan to discuss how to deploy surgeons, doctors, and healthcare workers.

After the meeting, we proceed to Muzaffarabad. Foreigners are normally banned from this capital of Pakistani Kashmir, but the government has granted access to all relief workers. As I have been taken for a local woman several times, there seems to be even less reason to worry about my presence. My dress and scarf, bought locally, together with my tan make me look (and feel) a little less foreign.

Before arriving in Muzaffarabad, we stop at Garhi Gabib Ullah, among the most badly damaged villages in the Mansehra district. Since the village's only mechanical digger is not functioning, everything looks exactly as it did on the day the earthquake hit. Noticing books and children's backpacks still lying among the debris of the collapsed school, I have to fight back my tears. Locals tell me the bodies of several children are still trapped under the rubble. I meet with a woman who was injured by the quake and is now recovering in one of the tents Sungi has distributed. There is nothing left of her home, she tells me, and she has lost several family members in the disaster.

On our way to Muzaffarabad, the extent and magnitude of the destruction is increasingly clear. I see collapsed houses everywhere, landslides, and several roads blocked by boulders. Yet the image of Muzaffarabad, so close to the epicenter, is even more shocking. In many streets nothing is left. Every school has collapsed. Hotels, hospitals, banks, and homes have been razed to the ground. About 70 percent of the people are homeless. There is no water and electricity. We have to wear masks over our noses and mouths because the stench of rotting human flesh is almost too much to bear. People roam the streets dazed. Many of them are women and children. Many people came from surrounding areas to seek help.

Occasionally a truck stops with relief goods, which are thrown into the crowd at random. Of course only the strongest are able to get hold of the goods. Men run after the truck, climb on, and take what they can carry. It all appears very chaotic. Dr. Manzoor assures me that Sungi distributes goods very differently, using organized village committees and making sure people line up and get registered.

As we continue our trip, Dr. Manzoor gets out of the car regularly to check if his family's homes are still standing, or to ask relief workers from partner organizations how things are and whether or not their staff are still alive. Unfortunately, he does not always return with good news. His face shows his distress.

We visit the International Red Cross facility and discuss with its staffers ways of coordinating our aid efforts. Dr. Manzoor tells the Red Cross about Sungi's capacity and its focus on providing tents, plastic sheeting, blankets, jerry cans with clean water, and medical kits. Although Sungi's office in Muzaffarabad suffered damage in the earthquake, it is still standing. There, staff is waiting for goods to come in so the agency can continue distributing them in remote areas. Unfortunately, there are no tents left in Islamabad, and tents have to be brought in from all corners of the country and even from Great Britain. Eventually Sungi will provide 20,000 families with shelter and other essentials.

Driving to Balakot after the Red Cross meeting, I am struck by the sight of clothes lying everywhere. Apparently, they have just been thrown around by self-appointed aid workers, who focus on providing people with a roof over their heads, warm blankets, water, and food. Clothes are for later, I guess, and are left lying on the streets.

On our way back to Abbottabad after the sun has set, Dr. Manzoor and I discuss the future. Emergency relief will be needed for days if not weeks. Reconstruction efforts need to start soon, for the freezing winter will soon present itself. Meanwhile, concerns exist about the safety of women who have lost their homes and husbands, and who might fear rape and assault. One thing is clear: Getting Pakistan and its people back on track is going to be a tough job.