Balakot

Two years ago there was apparently only one buildings left standing in Balakot town – this area was the epicentre of the earthquake. MIED is starting a new project in schools in the district, and last week I went with some of the team to two schools. The team were conducting a baseline survey – gathering basic information such as the number of children in the schools, whether the schools had any buildings, how many teachers etc etc. It is very difficult to write about an area where thousands of people died and which was completely destroyed, but I will do my best.

The town itself is only about 40km from Mansehra, but where we went was an hour and a half beyond that into the mountains. The place was breathtakingly beautiful. We left at 7.30 in the morning and it was a completely clear day so driving up to the snow-covered mountains in the sun and the morning mist was wonderful.

We stopped for a much needed cup of tea in Balakot as it was so cold. But because I was travelling with two men it was inappropriate for me to enter the restaurant, so I had to drink my tea in the car. It was the first time I remember thinking that my gender has actively stopped me from doing something in such an overt way, and it was a little odd.

What does a town look like two years after it was completely destroyed? Well, in Balakot itself it seemed that many of the buildings had been rebuilt, although there were still quite a few tents and temporary structures. But we drove past a school and one of the guys I was with told me that over 200 children had died in that one school. It is clear that NGOs have had a huge impact in this area - the whole place was overrun by every NGO and INGO you could possibly think of, as well as numerous NGO signs - announcing what projects they were running, the duration, how much it had cost and the number of beneficiaries. But further into the valley and the more inaccessible areas there was less evidence of NGO activities. It is catch 22 that the those communities which are most inaccessible are often the most in need.

The road beyond Balakot town was indescribably bad. When we were in the town I looked up and saw this tiny path meandering along the side of the mountain with a sheer drop down of I don’t know how many hundred metres. Unfortunately it was the only road around, so along it we went. There were landslides every couple of metres. Although the road had been paved at some point, now most of it was covered with compressed debris. Actually, I preferred the areas that weren’t paved because the driver was forced to be less enthusiastic with the accelerator. In areas parts of the road had just collapsed down the mountainside. Early on I decided it was a choice between spending the whole journey with my head in my hands, or just going with the flow, so I was able to look down the mountainside with a degree of composure, and my right leg twitched only occasionally.

I can’t imagine how the people live there – the mountainsides were scarred with landslides, but dotted between the landslides were houses perched on the edge, literally. And this whole area has been designated a red zone by the government because of earthquakes, and they are trying to dissuade people from living there. But people are unwilling to move because their families have been there for generations.

An hour and a half later we reached a little village and heard that there was a landslide further up so couldn’t drive to the school. After much deliberation we decided to walk around the landslide and then hire a local vehicle to take us to the school. I thought that the road from Balakot town was bad, but it was nothing compared to the minor road to the school. It was very steep, bendy, narrow, unpaved and we drove over countless of other landslides And the vehicle was pretty basic as well – the door didn’t close properly, but there were artificial roses hanging in the front so at least it looked pretty.

When we got to the school it was a collapsed building. Two years after the earthquake. I found it quite shocking – there were piles of rubble, a cupboard still with paper in it and blackboards with writing on. Just to add to the whole depressing aura I almost tripped up over a horse’s skull.

It was the school holidays so there were no children, but we were able to get the necessary information from the teacher. Apparently they do have a UNICEF tent where they can hold the lessons.

Then we had the journey back again. We stopped off at the same restaurant in Balakot for lunch, and the men invited me in this time. I was very puzzled as to why I could enter the restaurant this time, but I soon found out – I had to go and eat my lunch separately in a family room. A corner of the restaurant had been boxed off, and when I entered there were two other girls in there. All the Britishness in me rebelled at the thought of interrupting and joining two complete strangers in the middle of lunch, but they were lovely and we had an interesting conversation – they were also NGO workers. It was an Afghan restaurant, and the food was really good. The men eat Pakistani style but not sitting on the floor – they sit on the tables.

So, that concludes my trip to Balakot.