Kashmir:
A Year After The Quake
By Yoginder Sikand
15 November, 2006
Countercurrents.org
The
road from Baramulla to Uri and beyond straddles the gently flowing Jhelum,
lined by trees and terraced fields—a perfect, but deceptive, picture
of serenity. Forgotten by the media and quickly abandoned by the state
their own fate, one year after the deadly quake that struck this part
of Kashmir last October the denizens of this region struggle to rebuild
their lives.
Balkot is one of the largest
villages in the Uri tehsil in Baramulla district, almost on the Line
of Control that separates the Indian- and Pakistani-administered parts
of Kashmir. Its hamlets are scattered across the face of a massive mountain,
reached by a narrow, unpaved, rocky and crater-filled path. Almost all
the 400 houses in the village were destroyed in the quake. Today, only
the shells of what were once graceful cottages remain. Its inhabitants
now live in makeshift tin sheds and canvas tents.
'Many of us received just
forty thousand rupees from the government to rebuild our houses', says
Muhammad, a village elder. 'We spent most of that money on food and
medicines and on clearing the rubble of our destroyed houses, so few
were able to rebuild their homes properly. That will probably take generations'.
Muhammad's friend Salim adds,
'The cost of everything here in these remote mountainous parts is much
more than in the cities. A truckload of sand costs three thousand rupees
in Baramulla and double that here, because it has to be transported
by mules all the way up. And similarly for brick and cement and everything
else we need to rebuild our houses'. 'After the quake', he says, 'the
rates for manual labour have also gone up. People are trying to rebuild
their homes, so there is a massive labour shortage'.
Desperate poverty hits me
in the face as I trek through the village. I think of the professor
whom I had heard pontificating a few days ago at a seminar at Kashmir
University who insisted that there is no absolute poverty in Kashmir.
I am agitated. 'Most academics are a burden on society. They should
shut down the universities for a couple of years and force the self-styled
experts to live in places like Balkot for a while to learn', I tell
Irfan, my traveling companion.
The average landholding in
Balkot, as in the rest of the quake-affected villages in Uri, is less
than a quarter of an acre, and many families are landless. The land
here is rocky, dry and barren, affording just one crop of maize a year.
This forces most families to rely on selling their labour to survive.
Some work as porters for the army. No home in the village has tapped
water. Women have to walk up steep slopes to fetch water, an arduous
walk of up to an hour. Matters have been made more difficult by the
destruction of water pipes by the quake. Irrigation channels and water
sources have been damaged and this has badly impacted on agricultural
yields.
The building of Balkot's
government school came crashing down in the quake and has not been reconstructed
as yet. Children now study in tents. The village has a small medical
sub-centre, which provides medicines for minor ailments. For major medical
problems people have to travel to Uri town. Because of the difficult
terrain and the absence of roads in the area, this can lead to the death
of patients in an emergency situation.
Villagers complain of the
complete absence of any state-funded development schemes in the village
despite the immense destruction that it has witnessed. 'All we got was
some compensation for our
houses. After that, the government has done nothing for employment generation,
development or reconstruction', says a village youth. 'This is a border
area', he goes on. 'If I were the Prime Minister of India I would do
everything to help people here because this is a sensitive region and
people must feel that the government here genuinely cares for them.
But this is not the case'. 'If I want to take a loan from bank to start
a small business I can't', he goes on, 'because they ask for an asset
as security and I possess no land at all'. 'Till a few years ago', he
tells me, 'we had to face the brunt of the crossfire between Indian
and Pakistani soldiers. And now with the quake our lives have been made
even more miserable'.
NGOs that arrived after the
quake mainly focused on villages that were more easily accessible on
the main road, leaving out numerous remote villages like Balkot, explains
Nasir, a high school student. 'Some NGOs came here. They made lists
of people but most of them did not do anything', he says.
Most NGOs that came to Uri
in the wake of the quake soon withdrew after providing some immediate
relief. The only ones that still remain in Balkot are Action Aid and
its local partner, the People's Development Trust (PDT). They have supported
the construction of community toilets and the clearing of rubble and
village paths, providing cash in exchange for work. They have also provided
modest avenues of livelihood to some of the most poor families in the
village.
Abida runs Action Aid's activity
centre in the village that caters to some forty children. 'These children
have undergone great trauma, so through games and songs we try to bring
some cheer into their lives. We also provide them nutritional food every
day, which is one way of getting the children to come here', she says.
Colourful posters grace the walls of the tin shed. Boys and girls recite
poems and tell of their dreams for the future. A girl says she wants
to become a teacher. Another talks of becoming a doctor. A boy shyly
announces that he wants to fly a plane. I squirm inside, wondering at
the harsh reality of fate.
Mahtabi is a 65-year old
widow. Poverty and despair are deeply etched into her wrinkled face.
She suffered a fall some days ago and her feet and hands are wrapped
up in bandages that are soiled with stains. She lives in a one-room
hovel, made of logs and tin sheets nailed together, along with her daughter
Jana Begum, her husband Ali Muhammad and their three children. The family
owns about an eighth of an acre of land. Ali Muhammad used to work as
a labourer but now cannot since
he is sick. His children appear emaciated and grossly undernourished.
His elder son has withdrawn from school. 'We cannot afford the costs
of even government schooling', Mahtabi explains. 'Our house was damaged
in the quake and so we live in a mud hovel', she says, pointing to the
ruins of what was once her home. 'We did not get any compensation from
the government', Ali Muhammad says. 'There are several other families
in the area which did not get any aid', his neighbour reveals.
A volunteer of the PDT tells
me that Mahtabi was given four goats by his organization as livelihood
support. Mahtabi clutches a goat in her arm and gently pats its head.
'Maybe it will soon produce babies and then we can sell them in the
market and earn some money', she says. 'It may not lead to a radical
difference in the family's economic conditions', the volunteer tells
me, 'but perhaps something is better than nothing'.
Sarah is a young widow, the
wife of Abdur Rashid, who died in the quake. She has three children,
including a son who is stricken with polio. She now lives in her father's
house in Balkot after her own home was destroyed. She got some monetary
compensation from the government but much of this she spent on medicines
for her son. She received three months' rations and tin sheets from
the PDT as well as a cow as part of a livelihood reconstruction programme.
The cow gives just four litres of milk a day, and this is all consumed
at home, leaving nothing to sell to augment the family's income. 'I
cannot afford the cost of the special feed for the cow that's needed
to get a higher yield', she says.
Eighteen year-old Sajjad Ahmad Bandey was struck by polio when he was
three. His brother died in the quake. He points to the ruins of what
was once his two-storeyed house. 'We now live in the ruins of the one
surviving room', he says. His father works as a labourer, earning around
Rs.150 per day, but employment is to be had for less than half a year.
Sajjad contributes to the family income by running a small provision
store, funds for which were provided by the PDT. 'The
government just paid us a small compensation and did nothing else',
says a woman who has come to the shop to make a purchase. 'Some NGOs
helped us, and if it was not for them I don't know what the fortunate
few who got help from them would have done'.
A small crowd gathers at a house where we stop for tea on our way up
the mountain. Inevitably, the conversation is about the plight of the
villagers left to their fate, faced with the onset of yet another harsh
winter. We hear predictable tales of corruption about some NGOs and
government officials. The few NGOs that remain, we are told, work on
only a very limited scale, given their relatively small budgets and
over-stretched staff. Some of them might pull out soon. There is little
or no coordination between them, making reconstruction work even more
difficult. In any case, the general consensus seems to be, given the
scale of the destruction wrought by the quake, NGOs cannot take on the
role of the government in reconstruction and livelihood promotion. But
this is precisely what the state appears to be doing, abandoning its
own responsibility.
'The government is not at
all concerned about us. It thinks that everything has been settled by
giving us a small monetary compensation. And the media doesn't even
talk about us now, so people
outside think that life is back to normal here', rues a village elder.
Another man points to a hamlet
on a hillock ahead. 'That village is in Pakistan', he says. 'Both India
and Pakistan spend so much money on arms', he rues. 'In this mad war
over Kashmir, they care little about the plight of Kashmiris like us,
on both sides of the Line of Control, who have suffered so much in the
quake'.
'Who is there to listen to
us?', he asks, turning up to the sky in anguish.
'God will take care of us,
even if others don't', replies another man. 'What will happen will happen',
he says firmly, and the others nod in agreement.
If you want to help out a family affected by the quake, do get in touch
with me on [email protected].
I can procure a list of some families in Balkot and neighbouring villages
whom we could help, and I could send you their contact details. You
could then directly send them whatever financial contribution you want.
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