An Update
from the Quake Site
Buried Alive!
By Saghir Aslam
It was business as usual on
Oct 8 for Niamatullah: cutting grass in the pasture
located at the bottom of the mountains in his
village Gulmera. Being the month of Ramazan, soon
after consuming sehri and offering early morning
prayer, as he set out along with a pair of scythes
and rope, his wife, two daughters-in-law and two
sisters-in-law accompanied him to share the workload.
As the sun rose, they started tying small bundles
of grass cut to carry home. Suddenly, the earth
started shaking. Reciting holy verses, no sooner
they ran than the boulders and loose earth began
falling down from above.
Niamatullah shouted to move in a direction, which
he thought, was the best escape route from the
falling mass. But unfortunately they were trapped
in the middle of the mountain. Before anyone could
move they were all buried in the heavy debris
and their voices died down as the quake subsided.
Naseer and two other ladies working nearby managed
to rush down the hill into the rainwater course
and could save their lives. As they regained senses
they realized what had happened.
To share the miseries and grief of my fellow countrymen,
on Oct 16, I along with a few of my colleagues
in Pakistan reached Garhi-Habibullah, a town located
on the banks of River Kunhar between Balakot and
Muzzafarabad. The four-and-a-half hours journey
through the picturesque Abbotabad and Mansehra
cities did not show much signs of the massive
devastation that had struck Garhi-Habibullah along
with many other parts of the NWFP and AK area.
Driving out of Mansehra, where the traffic was
moving at snail’s pace due to the relief
convoys and ambulances, we entered the scenic
Batrasi pine forest along a narrow and winding
road. The demolished hostels of Pakistan Scout
Cadet College Batrasi were clearly visible. Onwards,
as we approached the town of Garhi-Habibullah,
the disaster was evident everywhere. We came across
relief camps and field hospitals established along
the banks of the-roaring River Kunhar, flooded
with fatigued people struggling hard and desperately
to get food, tents and medical aid. Since we knew
and saw that some sort of relief was available
in base cities like Garhi-Habibullah, we decided
to approach the villages in the surrounding mountains.
We selected village Gulmera situated at a hillock
approximately five kilometers from Garhi-Habibullah.
As we set out, our low bed jeep could not negotiate
the wide rainwater course leading to the base
of the village due to loose gravel and boulders.
So we boarded a local 1975 model jeep. Reaching
at the foothill, holding our breath and keeping
the eyes shut, we traversed along an extremely
narrow steep track, barely of the jeep’s
width. Atop, we encountered a shop-cum-residence
complex razed to the ground. The water tank of
the demolished house could be seen lying hundreds
of feet below in the rainwater course. A shop
had crashed with its stores littered along the
slope to the watercourse. Fresh earth slides could
be easily seen on the higher mountains surrounding
the village where Niamatullah and his family were
buried alive. His wailing son requested us to
get trained dogs and experts who had arrived from
abroad in Balakot city, so that the dead bodies
could be recovered and buried in the village graveyard
along with his other dear ones. Even after a lapse
of eight days their bodies could not be recovered;
digging being too risky as the loose earth could
still fall along the steep slope.
As we moved ahead we could smell the stench of
dead cattle and see demolished debris of houses.
Residents were busy in retrieving their belongings
and whatever was left. Few available tents were
pitched in front of destroyed houses. We were
told that the remaining people were spending their
days and nights in the open. Due to heavy rains
and winds the weather had turned severe and they
did not have enough clothing to face the tough
winter coming ahead.
Only a day before, it had snowed on the ridgeline
all around. A lady with an amputated arm and fractured
leg was lying in a cart crying with pain. I could
barely console her that she was at least alive
and talking to me. The village comprised about
a hundred houses that had all collapsed and no
less than ninety persons had expired. Unceremonious
burials continued one after the other as the bodies
were recovered from under the debris with lot
of difficulty on the second, third and even fourth
day of the tragedy. We were shown the badly damaged
village mosque where prayers could not be offered
any more.
As we descended down the rainwater course on our
way back to Garhi-Habibullah, I asked the driver
whether his family was safe; he replied in a choking
voice that his three sons were buried in the school
building where after the morning assembly the
classes had just begun. With tears in my eyes,
I wondered how he had forgotten the shock and
resumed his routine of life. Probably, poverty
forces you to forget quicker than you can imagine.
In my assessment the reconstruction and rehabilitation
of this village alone will require tremendous
efforts in aid and relief. Unless generous assistance
and donations are extended by the world community
in general and Pakistanis in particular to this
calamity-ridden region, it will take years for
the people to overcome the catastrophic effects
of this tragedy which is being regarded as worse
than tsunami.
(Saghir Aslam is Chairman of Saba Aslam Trust
for Education and Welfare)
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