Facing natural disasters
by Peter Preston
Disasters are always most poignant, most chilling, when you know the
terrain and the people. So I had stood on the sea wall in Galle,
watching kids fly kites, a few months before the tsunami engulfed the
south of Sri Lanka.
So, I remember sitting in a waterfront square in New Orleans early
'too early' one morning, hearing the band from the night before still
playing. So the roads north from Islamabad, deep into the Hindu Kush,
are roads I have travelled in peace and in war.
What you mostly miss from Pakistan earthquake coverage is a sense of
the people. Not bodies pulled from beneath piles of rubble, but the
sheer mass of humanity exploding round every bend of every road.
What's Pakistan's population now? Maybe 162 million, heading for 163
million before autumn ends. When I first went there in the 1960s, for
one of those ritual wars against India, that figure was only 68 million
or so, but even then accelerating pell-mell as medicine brought infant
mortality down. The nation, General Musharraf strives to control,
doubles in size every 33 years. Half its citizens are 15 or under. It is
a constant crowd, a teeming throng.
Frail foundations
And that gives this earthquake its deadliest edge. The towns and
cities are full, concrete blocks and wooden shacks hurled together in a
desperate effort to cope, but it is the countryside that somehow seems
over-born: village after village perched on steep, sliding hillsides or
hunched in valleys, a clutter of huts and tin roofs, a TV satellite dish
and, if their luck has held, one imposing mansion a hundred yards away
where the village boy who went to Bradford or Atlanta 30 years ago to
make good has returned to spend his retirement, his accumulated
largesse, and to die. It is this landscape, down rocky, rutted tracks,
crisscrossed by streams with broken bridges, that the earthquake has
shaken to its frail foundations.
Sometimes early death counts you see in New Orleans are too fearful;
but this time, I guess, there can be no good news. This time the toll
will rise and rise with so many children lost since, simply, there are
so many children.
The chill grows deeper, then. "I am driven with a mission from God,"
George W. Bush may or may not have said the other day. God may or may
not have told him to "end the tyranny in Iraq." How does that strike us?
As devout, foolish, or (as a harassed White House spokesman quickly
added) "absurd"? But the past 10 months, right on through an absurdly
benighted 2005, have been full of missions from somewhere and perhaps
from someone.
Meanwhile, modestly publicised Hurricane Stan, the one that didn't
threaten Texas or Louisiana, has just killed hundreds more in Central
America: more schools swept away, more children gone.
Let's put 2005 in pulpit perspective. The tsunami, as the old year
ended, destroyed Buddhist and Hindu temples, mosques and churches with
indiscriminate violence. It swept away the agnostic pleasure domes of
Thailand's tourist coast. It drowned people of almost every religion and
none.
Add New Orleans for the cymbal clash of the born-again and the black,
for Southern Baptists and old-time religionists, and what have you got?
A year of disaster spread and shared.
A year when every God or no god at all seemed angry. A year with a
mission to destroy. Here is a year when those (like me) who can find no
faith look out in bemusement at a globe defined and divided by religion.
Oust the godless Saddam from Iraq. Bring Sunni and Shia together to
worship the great lord democracy.
Trade new popes and Paisleys for old. Never stop talking about
Jerusalem or the "glory" of the suicide bomber. So many dead children,
but what does their death mean except that our earth is fragile to the
core and that no nation and no mission can escape its power? Some of the
dead lain out here will be terrorists, used to cross-border
infiltration, assassination, bombing.
But they will have perished, too, like the children in the streets,
the politicians in their offices, the mullahs at prayer all victims of
our doomed human mission to understand.
(Guardian Newspapers Limited 2004) |