A bowl of noodles and a sense of loss in flood-hit Nuwakot

Beyond emergency rations and disaster tourism, displaced families in Betrawati grapple with trauma, missing shelters, and uncertain futures

Locals eat instant noodles at a 'community kitchen' operated in a flood-affected area. All photos: Rajesh Ghimire

KATHMANDU: “I need to take medicine. Please, is there anything cooked?”

In the holding shelter at Swaradanda, Betrawati in Nuwakot, he was asking for food at a community kitchen run by World Central Kitchen and Lions International. He was a member of one of the 90 families staying in 31 tents pitched on this sloping terrain of Swaradanda, Sinhale.

At the bottom end of the holding shelter, sitting under a tree, doctors were examining local residents one after another. At this health camp organized by the Bijaya Development Resource Center, Gaindakot, Nepal Medical Association, and others, he had been examined and advised to eat something before taking his medication.

After walking uphill for about three minutes, he reached the road. Finding no flat ground anywhere, the health camp organizers had spread out and placed the medicines right on the road. He took his medicine there and headed toward the community kitchen located right by the side of the road. He pulled out a plate. The cook served the rice he had prepared. There was leftover lentil soup from the morning, so he received that as well. However, the vegetable dish was just being prepared. He ate the rice and dal as they were. Then, he took his medicine.

In the community kitchen, meals are provided twice a day, in the morning and evening. But how could it ever feel like one’s own home!

The helplessness of this young man, who until eight to ten days ago belonged to a well-off family, was reflected on his face as he was forced to swallow his medicine after eating only plain rice and lentil soup. But the sense of despair lingered in his eyes long after. In a plastic box kept in a corner of the kitchen, there were items like biscuits and instant noodles. He pulled out a biscuit from there, went under a tree, closed his eyes, and began to rest.

About a kilometer to a kilometer and a half below, the Trishuli River—which had buried the area where his home once stood in a deluge of mud and rocks and taken the lives of many of his relatives—was roaring continuous fury. Though the shade of the tree blocked the scorching sun, the sound of the Trishuli was likely still terrifying him.

In the community kitchen, meals are provided morning and evening. One could also take items out of the plastic box to eat. But how could it ever feel like home! With these thoughts, we began walking down toward Betrawati.

Preparation of food at a community kitchen operated in a flood-affected area.

The plight of Betrawati

Previously, it felt as though one could reach Betrawati within a 15-to-20-minute drive from Bidur. But coming here for humanitarian relief work after the snow tsunami of August 26, everything had changed. Including the time spent losing the way, it took about two and a half hours to reach Swaradanda, Sinhale, which falls under Ward No. 10 of Bidur Municipality.

As we descended, the terrible plight of Betrawati began to unfold. The Trishuli is still muddy. Its sound remains terrifying. The roar of excavators clawing through the edges of the debris adds to the tragic atmosphere. The clock on the clocktower built at his home by Yogesh , who lives in New York, USA, has remained stuck at 9:03 since August 26.

Silence hangs over Betrawati, which was once green and bustling. Yet, right there, some people were taking selfies with the ruins in the background. Dried, hardened mud was piled atop someone’s home. Sitting right on top of it, one wondered how they could manage to snap a selfie. A sense of pity crept in.

Some munched on biscuits, others on beaten rice. Instant noodles and beaten rice—it has truly begun to feel as though these have become the national post-disaster snack.

It turns out a ‘fascinating’ trend has taken off in Kathmandu: friends raise a little money, hire a vehicle, buy some rice and supplies, and drive out to tour the flood-affected areas. In Kathmandu society, it seems a person’s prestige drops if they haven’t traveled to a flood-hit zone to distribute relief. It provoked a sense of anger.