20 days since the Maha Bhukamp, by Prakash Bhave

With almost 20 days having passed since the Maha Bhukamp (Nepali for “Great Earthquake”), I realized a message to family and friends was long overdue.  While writing down my thoughts Tuesday morning, I downloaded some data from Nepal’s National Seismological Centre to convince myself that we’re really in the clear.  Other distractions arose and soon it was lunch time.  The ICIMOD cafeteria runs out of food by 12:45, so that interrupted my writing one last time.  I was taking the first bite from my plate of momos when the “second” Maha Bhukamp hit.  Uggh.  Duck, cover, hold, …  Wait for the shaking to stop, go outside, watch colleagues frantically call their families and try in vain to contact mine, run up to my office to collect my laptop and unfinished work, go home.

The past 2 weeks have been a drawn-out lesson in disaster recovery on both a personal and institutional level.  In brief, I experienced the following sequence of emotions after the earthquake:

  1. Feeling lucky that our family was not hurt, that our home was not damaged.
  1. Informing relatives and friends that we’re okay.  Facebook was perfect for this, as ICIMOD’s backup power generator (along with email server) went down during the quake.
  1. Feeling numerous aftershocks – some real and others imagined.  Debating whether to sleep inside or outside of our house; upstairs in our bedrooms or downstairs near an exit?
  1. Wondering how long it would be until water and power would be restored; whether we’d run out of food before the stores were restocked with supplies from outside Kathmandu.
  1. Quit waiting for the next aftershock and try to make ourselves useful to city residents who had lost their homes.
  1. Returning to ICIMOD 3 days after the earthquake to lead our office’s task force for immediate relief over the next 8 days.  (see https://www.facebook.com/icimod for a summary of our efforts)
  1. Balancing the needs of our daily-wage support staff (e.g., custodial, security, cafeteria workers, drivers) who lost some belongings against their next-door neighbors who had lost everything
  1. Deciding whether to provide relief to a devastated village where our staff have close relatives or to one where ICIMOD has ongoing pilot projects and local partners in desperate need
  1. Pondering how one draws the line between earthquake relief and poverty relief.  Due to daily rainstorms, some form of shelter (i.e., tarp, rope, blankets) was urgent for those who lost their homes;  water purification and disinfectants seemed necessary for those in tarp-covered camps.  But once the local stores reopened, were donations of food appropriate?
  1. Deciding to end ICIMOD’s immediate relief efforts and try to shift our focus back to ICIMOD’s regular work of improving the mountain environments and the livelihoods of mountain people (i.e., sustainable poverty alleviation)
  1. Oscillating between feelings of guilt for not providing more relief and righteousness for not having left the country with many other ExPats
  1. Feeling utterly incapable of focusing on any medium- or long-term tasks back at the office.  The psychologists who came to counsel us kept using the term “Hyperalert” to describe our state of mind – i.e., poised to react to any stimulus, but not in a condition to think critically.
  1. Recognizing that we are physically okay, but emotionally fractured; and that, soon, our mental functions would return to normal.
  1. Plotting a time-series of the aftershock magnitudes, concluding that the worst is behind us and, then, experiencing another massive quake 2 days ago.
  1. Again, informing relatives and Facebook that we’re okay.  Again, debating where to sleep.  Again, experiencing large aftershocks through the night.

Thanks for all of your messages of concern and your prayers.  Nita and I are moved by the outpouring of condolences and offers of help, and I regret that I did not write sooner.  I know that the physical damage looks much worse from afar than it has been for us personally, because the TV and Internet show the worst hit places which are horrendous.  In contrast, our neighborhood had very little damage and our friends are physically unharmed.  All 250+ ICIMOD staff and their immediate families survived the Maha Bhukamp (only a few minor injuries were reported).  Likewise, all children, staff, and families at our kids’ school and in our neighborhood are okay.

But while evacuating the office on Tuesday, one of my Nepali colleagues asked “Prakash, do you think we are cursed?”  I’m sure this thought is going through the minds of many Nepalis right now.  I don’t think the country or its people are cursed, but this natural disaster is certainly wearing everyone down.  And here, I’m just talking about the millions (like me) who are uninjured and whose homes are intact!

Hopefully this gives everyone an idea of what we’re going through since the earthquake.  Feel free to share this with your friends and family to offer another perspective, one that isn’t available through mass media.  I look forward to meeting many of you in the USA during our visit in July!

Time-series plot of earthquake and aftershock data.

Time-series plot of earthquake and aftershock data.

Found new meaning for a “rainy day”

— Written by Prakash

Growing up in California, it was impossible not to notice a cloudy day let alone a rainy one. My first memories of the downside to rainy days are from swimming competitions. During rainy swim meets, I could never set a personal best. Years later, I remember when my older brother returned from his first year of college in Pittsburgh and told me of the gloom he felt after not seeing the sun for several weeks in a row that past Winter. It was something we’d never experienced. On my summer evening commutes from Novato to Berkeley, I recall the daily crossing of Richmond Bridge – leaving the blue skies of Marin County in my rear-view mirror and entering the cloudy East Bay. What a drag!

These early experiences alerted me of the psychological impact that clouds and rain can have. I later learned that my personal experiences are affirmed by scientific studies of nightshift workers who miss the sun and non-natives of the Arctic Circle who decide to live there for a winter. Now in Kathmandu, I have a heightened awareness to the physical effects of clouds and rain. By comparison to other parts of South Asia, the summer monsoon in KTM is pretty mild. But occasionally, we’ll have a string of rainy days without a trace of blue sky in between.

For our family, two consecutive cloudy days results in getting no hot water at home because we rely exclusively on solar power for water heating. We also rely on the sun and wind to dry our clothes, so a couple days of rain can result in a severe laundry backlog. For me individually, rainfall equates to an extra slow and wet commute to/from the office. After the rain, most of the roads are muddy so those post-rainfall rides have me speckled with dirt by the time I reach my destination.

An average KTM lane after the rain, submerged in muddy puddles

An average KTM lane after the rain, submerged in muddy puddles

Of course, these consequences can be avoided. We could purchase a gas- or electric-powered water heater, and even a fan-assisted clothes dryer. Catching a taxi to work on rainy or muddy days is also well within my means. But for most KTM residents, the negative consequences of clouds and rain have to be faced.

The outdoor washroom of our lower-income neighbors, with clothes drenched from last night's rain

The outdoor washroom of our lower-income neighbors, with clothes drenched from last night’s rain

A lone fruit vendor longing for some customers on this rainy morning

A lone fruit vendor longing for some customers on this rainy morning

 A homeless man takes shelter while eating his morning meal

A homeless man takes shelter while eating his morning meal

These images flashed through my mind all evening long. I feel grateful for the lukewarm bucket bath which cleansed my face and legs of mud spots, for the wardrobe full of clean and dry clothes that are sure to outlast this rainy episode, and for the roof over our heads as we fall asleep tonight.

Initial Impressions of the Workplace – Himalaya’s EPA

How time flies!  May has come and gone, which means I’ve been at ICIMOD for a full month already.  Many friends have asked me about the work environment and culture.  Although it’s still early to make many conclusions, I can offer some first impressions.

The ICIMOD building and campus are beautiful.  I knew this when I came out for the interview.  Attractive flower beds decorate the front garden and there’s a prominent cycle stand (i.e., bike rack) beside the main building.  Upon entering, the majestic wall hangings that decorate the main corridors and stairwells are breathtaking – panoramic photographs of beautiful Himalayan mountainscapes with native residents in the foreground engaged in their daily activities.  Even after working at ICIMOD for a month, I can’t help stopping and staring in awe at these photos.

Himalaya

My first day at the office had a couple surprises.  I arrived on bicycle and was directed to a handicap-accessible restroom where I could change into office clothes – no locker room with warm showers like we had at the EPA!  I went upstairs to check in with my department secretary and was greeted warmly by a number of familiar faces whom I remembered meeting during my interview a few months before.  My group leader, Arnico Panday, showed me to my office which is in a new wing on the ground floor that was still partly under construction.  The office had two bare exterior windows and a dilapidated desk.  That afternoon, a carpenter came in to take measurements of the office and we sketched out several pieces of furniture together!  After a few days, my custom-built desk was delivered and the shelving and file cabinets arrived a couple weeks later.  I used a loaner laptop for a couple days, but a brand new Dell laptop with docking station arrived the following week.  The office gradually took shape throughout the month of May.  Blinds were put on the windows, office supplies were delivered, and I even got a pedestal fan that helps me cool off after my morning commutes.

One highlight of my first month at work was the bike commute.  My 6 km ride from Heritage Apartments to ICIMOD takes between 20 and 25 minutes.  The morning ride has some gentle downhills and very little traffic, providing a lovely start to each work day.  The evening ride home takes a bit longer, due to the uphill grade and heavier traffic volume.  The busiest intersection that I pass through is Satdobato, which literally means 7 roads!  There’s no traffic light there (or anywhere in Kathmandu, as far as I”ve seen), but the intersection is usually manned with a police officer who tries his best to direct the unruly traffic while inhaling an lethal dose of air pollution.  Keeping in mind that May is National Bike-to-Work month in the U.S., I commuted by bicycle 24 times.  Last week was the first time in my life that I managed to bike commute for 5 days in a single work week, and it felt great.  Cycling the streets in Kathmandu is a lot like playing a video game.  There are numerous obstacles:  most of them are moving, some that yield, others that intimidate, but one quickly learns to predict their patterns of motion.  I’m happy to report that I’ve had no accidents and only one close call in my 288 km of commuting thus far.

A highlight at ICIMOD been the genuine optimism exhibited by our Director General, David Molden, and reinforced by the near absence of cynicism among the staff.  We’ve had one all-hands meeting and a full-day retreat for all staff at an off-site resort.  At each of these events, I have to pinch myself to believe that the research budget here is actually on the rise and that ICIMOD is hiring aggressively – a stark contrast to EPA where the budget was cut year after year and morale was plummeting.  Whereas most Americans seem to have grown complacent about environmental protection, taking their clean air and water for granted, Nepalis are acutely aware of the importance of addressing their environmental hazards.  The daily imperatives to filter tap water before drinking and to wear masks while traveling the roads are the most blatant reminders.

ICIMOD colleagues descending on the refreshments at an all-hands meeting.

ICIMOD colleagues descending on the refreshments at an all-hands meeting.

My closest colleagues at ICIMOD are Bhupesh Adhikary and Praveen Puppala.   They also work in the Atmosphere Initiative and sit in offices adjacent to mine.  Bhupesh joined ICIMOD in March.  He’s a native of Kathmandu, but did his undergraduate studies and PhD in Iowa (Greg Carmichael’s group).  He’s a whiz at running meteorology and air quality models.  He even runs daily numerical weather forecasts for Nepal (reminds me of Rob Gilliam predicting wave heights and hurricane paths).  Bhupesh is extremely talkative and very friendly.  Praveen started the same day as me, after moving from IASS in Potsdam, Germany.  Prior to that, he worked at Scripps (San Diego) and at some top-notch research institutes in India.  Praveen is our measurement expert, and has been tasked with establishing a handful of mountaintop and urban observatories for monitoring air quality in the region.  He is lanky (looks like a giant next to Bhupesh), not quite as talkative, but very amicable.  The three of us often eat lunch together and have openly expressed to each other our environmental aspirations, which are quite alike.

Colleagues enthusiastically working on a team-building activity at our retreat

Colleagues enthusiastically working on a team-building activity at our retreat

Last week on a phone call to NC, Jay Helms (a close friend from Breckenridge) asked me whether the work I’m doing at ICIMOD is similar to what I had envisioned before joining.  My split-second response came as a surprise, even to me – a decisive “No.”  Whereas I came with the intent of doing research that would help reduce air pollution in Kathmandu and the Himalayas, my work during the first month can be best characterized as “capacity building.”  Our research group spent most of May gearing up to host a 5-day training class on a cutting-edge air quality model (WRF-Chem) that will be taught to young scientists and government staff from 6 of ICIMOD’s member countries, then host a regional atmospheric sciences conference with 80 participants from across the region, and then convene the first meeting of an international advisory panel for a proposed new graduate degree program on atmospheric sciences in the Himalayas.  While pitching in wherever needed, my main task has been to organize the advisory panel meeting: inviting panelists, setting the agenda, and trying to build consensus within our team about our motives for starting a degree program.  I’m hopeful to return to modeling research and data analyses soon after these meetings are over so, in hindsight, perhaps the more accurate answer to Jay should have been “Not yet.”  More on that in my next blog post…

— Prakash

Electricity in Kathmandu (and other utilities)

Today (April 21), we learned the weekly schedule for power outages in our neighborhood.  This gave us a feeling of “enlightenment” because, until now, the times when our refrigerator would switch on or off seemed quite sporadic.   As advertised, the outages last 12 hours per day. Ironically, almost all twelve are waking hours.

Sun 5-noon & 4-9pm (i.e., no power during the most useful hours)

Mon 4-10am & 2-8pm (almost as bad as Sunday)

Tue 3-9am & noon-6pm (best day of the week; we get power right after sunset)

Wed 10am-5pm & 8pm-1am (not a good day to work from home!)

Thu 9am-4pm & 7pm-mid (another killer day)

Fri 7am-2pm & 6-11pm (perfect excuse to go out for dinner)

Sat 6am-1pm & 5-10pm (much like Sunday)

During the power outages, we can operate a few lights in each room, 1 socket in the living room, and all ceiling fans using our inverter/battery system.  But the refrigerator is off, as is the water purifier, and all kitchen lights (the tube lights are supposed to work on the invertor, but don’t). We get hot water around the clock because it’s heated by solar power. This may not work as well during the monsoon season due to cloudiness.

Solar panels and tank on the terrace of our apartment building

Solar panels and tank on the terrace of our apartment building

Nita had received some good advice to purchase solar-powered lanterns before coming here, so we’ve begun using those during the power outages and on evening walks.

Waka Waka and Luci

Waka Waka and Luci

— Prakash

It has been almost a month since we’ve arrived in Kathmandu!  Getting used to the electricity outages has been easier than I anticipated.  Largely due to our new best friend – our invertor!

The invertor in our apartment.

The invertor in our apartment.

When the electricity is on, the invertor gets charged up ; when the electricity goes out, whatever is connected to the invertor can still be operated.  There have been only 3 incidents where the power was out and the invertor ran out of supply.  Having only candlelight, solar lanterns and NO ceiling fans was a bit tough.  However, we are the lucky ones who have an invertor (along with the vast majority of other expats and most middle class and above Nepalis).  This past Saturday, after returning home around 8pm from a concert (will post about that soon!), I noticed how dark it was while walking down our street…  Many families do not have invertors and rely solely on candlelight during blackouts.

We have seen numerous houses while searching for one to rent and there is a broad range of the number of invertors some families have!  We have seen 0 – 8!  Some are fine managing without electricity when the rest of KTM doesn’t have power.  And another wanted to have their refrigerator and AC / heating system and all other lights and sockets working 24 hours a day!  Our apt has 1 invertor and so far, we are managing okay.  The house that we will rent (will also post soon about our exciting home search!) will have 4 invertors (and is about double of this apt), so will feel quite luxurious compared to just 1 over here!

Much of the electricity in KTM is provided by hydro-power.  Thus, in the rainy season, the outages are shorter (I believe around 8 hours per day).  And in winter, the outages are at their peak with up to 16 hours of outage!  We’ll have to precisely time when we charge up our lifelines (ie cell phone, laptop, tablet)!

Internet – THANKFULLY we have internet connection around the clock!  Our connection is provided by the landlord who has the modem connected to his invertor.  Speed is moderate.  Totally adequate for emailing and blogging, but a bit slow for watching videos.  Intolerable compared to USA standards, but A-OK in a developing country.

Let me briefly talk about the other utilities – gas and water.  Direct gas lines are non-existent in Nepal (just like India).  So there are large red cylinders (about 2 feet tall and 1 feet diameter) that each house has to operate any gas appliances (stove and space heaters).  When the tank depletes, you take it to a filling station.  I’ve heard an estimate of filling the tank for the stove about 3 times per year.  Water is in short supply here in Nepal (ironic because there is plentiful snow melt so nearby…).  Water comes from wells (some houses have small wells on their property), the government (pumped into a tank that is kept in or around your house approximately weekly), or by private tankers (large tanker trucks pump water from the truck into a tank at your house – this can be costly).

Our neighbors solar panels and 2 water tanks of an apartment building in the next lane.

Our neighbors solar panels and 2 water tanks of an apartment building in the next lane.

Once we move to our own house, we’ll have the pleasure of experiencing all of this — filling up gas cylinders, filling up water tanks, making sure the electricity is on before trying to pump the water!!  Now, in this furnished, serviced apartment, all of this is taken care of for us (this is as close as it gets to Marriott Residence Inn in Nepal!!)

Looking forward to reading your comments and questions 🙂

Nita