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After the quake

The confessions of a conflicted aid worker, a year after the earthquake.

After the quake
Barpark, Gorkha. The epicentre of the 2015 Nepal earthquake. Photo: Prabina Karki/ Wikimedia Commons

Before the earthquake I knew international development and humanitarian work by its face – I could argue around its contours, while I sipped cappuccinos and smoked rolled cigarettes. Now, since the earthquake, I find myself feeling uncomfortable as I make my way through its digestive tract, listening to the base sounds and awkward fidgets – a fundamentally more intimate and close up perspective.

In this rush, I find myself sparse on time to question the development agenda and often feel swept away in the ceaseless operation of it all. The pace of things means that relief work is hard enough and leaves little time for me to consider my new role as an aid worker, let alone challenge my place within it. I find myself internalising and accepting ideas and approaches I once was hesitant towards or even resistant to. Within this new milieu, I struggle with the reality that a crisis has occurred and people are in need. I find myself asking the question – am I really going to be the one to hold up the process? If so, perhaps it is best to get out of the way entirely and not become a bottleneck. If you want to stay, you best keep up with the pace and, most optimistically, you can have some small role in shaping the course of things to come.

But let's be more concrete – the time for reflection is short no matter how long it's been since things were shaken up. Poverty is what it is all about, no? After all, rich countries don't get humanitarians or UN cluster coordination meetings. While Nepal's villages hold endless charm for travellers and outsiders, I long ago cast aside the notion that rural Nepal was an idyllic place where people weren't crying out for all sorts of changes. It doesn't take long to realise that having to walk hours for even the most rudimentary and basic of public services, like education and healthcare, can rarely if ever translate into an 'easy life'. That being said, when the humanitarians' boots were on the ground I was surprised to hear the common sentiment that the affected people were "very poor." For people who know Nepal, there is perhaps an irony in this. The areas that were most affected by the earthquake are far from being Nepal's 'poorest' or most 'remote' districts, but even these 14 most affected, but relatively well-off districts, no doubt, left much to be desired by their residents.

Perhaps it's better to stand even further back when examining Nepal's poverty and look at its progress towards graduating out of the 'least developed country' category by 2022. To me, the situation doesn't look optimistic. Since I first came to Nepal, the country has made begrudged progress towards becoming 'developed', but it seems to have come at a high cost, borne by the country's most poor and vulnerable who are willing to trade their kidneys, bodies, and labour for a better living or better status for their families. Now after a year of earthquakes, aftershocks, and blockades, Nepal sits at the brink of economic and political precarity – to what extent is unclear. This precariousness is no doubt also a part of the problem.