Rainy with a Chance of Earthquake

My life in the United States is largely insulated from the weather. I turn up the central heat when it snows, dart from car to building beneath the shelter of an umbrella, and chill in the comfort of air conditioning all summer long. So learning to accommodate the Nepali monsoon season is a new phenomenon for me.

You can be sitting in a café or waiting for a taxi and suddenly you’ll notice that the sky is a little darker than it was before. In the time it takes you to think that simple sentence, it will be raining cats and dogs… no rhinos and elephants. I was only in Cameroon for a few serious rainstorms, but the response here is the same as it was there: find the nearest doorway and wait it out. And to be honest, it’s really freeing. It’s nice not to have to rush through pummeling raindrops and leap over puddles because you have a 2:00 meeting and you can’t be late. It’s nice to stop and savor an extra 30 minutes to sit and read. It wouldn’t surprise me if a shopkeeper brought out tea if I ever found myself barricaded by a wall of water inside a little store.

In any case, here’s a little sampling of the monsoon. Just keep in mind that these pictures only represent times when I could take out my camera…so the heaviest rains aren’t represented.

Do you see the wake that motorcycle is leaving?

 
**Due to realistic description of risk, the following content may be inappropriate for some readers, parents and grandparents are advised to stop reading and check back later for a happier post.**

If you are unfamiliar with Nepal’s geography, the northern border is formed by the Himalayas. Having the world’s most majestic mountain range comes with certain risks, like a large magnitude earthquake roughly every 70-80 years.

You don’t have to be in Kathmandu very long to learn that geologically, a significant earthquake is overdue. But there’s no way to predict whether it will happen tonight, tomorrow, or two generations from now. It’s the kind of uncertainty that can paralyze you if you let it; especially if you take a minute to think about the compromised structural integrity of most of Kathmandu thanks to the well-intentioned, but poorly executed, road widening project. (Basically, the front three feet of buildings were shaved off to make more space for traffic, which really means that the whole city is a construction zone.)

Rather than packing my bags, I choose to take reasonable precautions without letting fear cripple my experience. The U.S. Embassy in Kathmandu has a long doom-and-gloom speech because it’s their job to prepare for the worst case scenario, but I don’t want to live in a state of constant anxiety.

Fortunately, the Fulbright commission in Nepal has done much preparation for me. Let me introduce the “Go Bag.” According to the Embassy, everyone should have at least one go bag containing the supplies necessary to survive an earthquake and several days/weeks following. Ideally it will include food, water, materials for building a shelter and keeping warm, a light source, first aid kit, and a crow bar.

The commission was kind enough to provide each of the Fulbright grantees with a fully-equipped “go bag” including the above and more. But when you add up five kilograms of food, a tarp, an axe, blankets, and other supplies you don’t get a go bag…you get a go barrel.

I’m not kidding. Barrel.

Some important considerations for making the most of a Go Barrel:

• Keep it outside. Mostly to attract the attention of all the neighbors, but also just in case the house crumbles during the quake. It would be pretty depressing to know that you have everything you need to survive, but it’s buried beneath a large pile of rubble.

• Keep it locked. You wouldn’t want your emergency supplies to be stolen.

• Since it’s locked, think carefully about where you keep the key since it would also be really unfortunate to get to your go bag safely outside with all the supplies intact and not be able to open the barrel of life.

When the earthquake happens, it will undoubtedly devastate this city and country that I have come to love. People’s lives will shatter. It’s the kind of destruction that I cannot even fathom. Please do not misinterpret this post as making light of a genuine risk. But to cope with the uncertainty, I choose to laugh at myself, and my big blue barrel.