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| Photo taken from World Vision website |
The pictures from Nepal are horrifying;
if you haven't seen them, watch the news tonight. CBC has a photo
crew in Kathmandu, a place that's become extremely difficult to get in and
out of. After you've seen them, imagine what it would be like to be
in that vulnerable city, those vulnerable villages along the line
where the European tectonic plate meets the Asian.
We're told the
movement beneath people's feet measured a full meter, so imagine
yourself on one of those moving sidewalks in an airport, where
someone turns on, then reverses the direction every second for a
full minute. Buildings made of stone and un-reinforced concrete can't
survive such motion and all around you are the excruciating rumble of
stone and concrete collapsing and the screaming of parents and the
wailing of children pouring into the streets.
As the worst shaking subsides for a
moment, your attention is drawn to the homes of family members and
friends and you begin frantically searching for them and you find
some but others are nowhere to be found; you know they didn't make it
out.
And every few minutes, the aftershocks
remind you that this is not going to be over for a very long time.
When you've done all you can to find friends and family and the
rescue crews are beginning their work of searching for the dead and
the living, you make your way to a place where no building can fall
on you, gather your children around you and try to calm them. It's
not easy because you yourself are on the edge of hysteria.
The buildings that were your refuge
have become savages, you dare not shelter in the ones still standing.
The crowds begin to gather in the open
space you've found, a kind of common in the heart of Kathmandu.
Eventually, relief will come in the form of emergency tents but for
two nights, you sleep under the stars, huddling with your children
under a thin blanket, shivering in the drizzle that's just begun to
add to your misery. Your son is coughing and you know there's nothing
to give him except to keep him as warm as possible with your
body.
The tents when they come are a great relief, at least
you can be dry. The blankets feel like an angel's touch after the
cold and damp. By now the aftershocks are beginning to feel normal
although the rumble of stones and concrete falling somewhere fills
with despair: will there be a life left for you when this is over? Or
would it have been better if you had all died and were lying at peace
under the rubble?
And then there are food and sanitation
to figure out. Earthquakes crack roads and runways and food relief
can sit at airports in India or on parking lots far away, unable to
proceed to the afflicted area. Stores can be raided from some buildings
lucky not to have fallen, but this will suffice for a few days at
best. Hidden spaces between rubble piles become open toilets that
hold the promise of cholera. Despair is everywhere.
What does this mean for us where food
is plentiful, the ground is flat and never moves, where incomes are
high, healthcare is excellent and always nearby, and our homes aren't
adequate unless they have at least two bathrooms? Relief
organizations and governments have turned their attention to helping;
our best help will come in giving them the resources to make help happen. It's not an occasion for twenty bucks; we ought to dig
deeper, out of compassion and thankfulness that we are able to be
generous.
Let's think $500, $1,000, $2,000 or more,
even if we have to borrow it or pay it off in installments on our
credit cards. That bit of hardship for us will be easy compared to the tribulations of the Nepalese communities struggling to survive.
To donate, click on one of the links below (or find your own preferred organization) and follow
what is usually a “To Donate” or "Donate Now" button where you can designate your
gift to Nepal Earthquake relief. Donated this way, the funds will be available immediately.
Thank you!
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