To Nepal and back | Inquirer Opinion
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To Nepal and back

Every journey must come full circle.

My journey started on April 25 when my boss asked me if I was ready to deploy to Nepal asap to be part of the first Surge team for the World Food Programme (WFP) earthquake response. I naturally said yes, for who says no to such a request if you’re working for the world’s largest humanitarian agency? It’s in our DNA to be first on the ground for humanitarian emergencies of such magnitude.

I admit it wasn’t a yes without trepidation. I knew from my emergency experiences with Tropical Storm “Ondoy” (Ketsana) and Typhoon “Yolanda” (Haiyan) in the Philippines that being deployed meant stretching my limits, both personally and professionally. And this case was to be my first deployment for an emergency outside my country and, thus, it’d be difficult to grasp the context of the situation immediately. I was to stay in Nepal for a month.

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The first flight out of Bangkok (where I am based) to Kathmandu was Malaysian Airlines’ MH789 on April 27 (yes, the airline’s mishaps crossed my mind). I spent the whole of April 26 preparing for deployment. I bought supplies (tent, sleeping bag, energy bars, bottled water, wet wipes) because we were briefed that we had to be self-sufficient, ready for any scenario. The information we had on

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living conditions in Nepal then was limited, and we relied on what was coming out in the media.

At Suvarnabhumi Airport, I was feeling proud for packing only 16 kg (mostly supplies) and having three carry-on bags (a backpack with a laptop and a tripod, a tent and a camera). To put this “achievement” in context, I’m a petite woman (155 cm, 40 kg). Imagine my anxiety when the MH ground staff told me that there was a chance my check-in bag wouldn’t make it because the connecting flight in Kuala Lumpur had been moved earlier and they may not have ample time to transfer luggage to the plane bound for Nepal. They made us sign a waiver.

I took out the sleeping bag and a shirt from my luggage before checking it in. If worse came to worst, I’d at least be able to sleep and do my job as WFP Asia communications and social media officer because all my tools were with me. Unfortunately, I should’ve grabbed a few more shirts and some underwear because my bag and I were reunited only after three days. As it turned out, the connecting flight in Kuala Lumpur got canceled because Tribhuvan International Airport (TIA) was congested. We flew the next day, but not after being grounded and stuck on the plane (without any meals) for eight hours in Dhaka, where they offloaded all bags without informing us!

That flight was a story in itself. It was full of Nepalis trying to reach home, humanitarians of all functions, journalists and random tourists who didn’t cancel their trip despite the quake. I gave two interviews—at Kuala Lumpur airport while we were waiting, and inside the plane in Dhaka, again while we were waiting. By the end of it, we passengers had formed a “sacred” bond, as all who’ve gone through intense experiences do. We looked out for one another, especially as we saw one another in the same clothes while searching for our bags at the TIA. I’m still in touch with some of them to this day, a testament to the bond of the unwashed.

In Kathmandu, I slept in a container at the airport’s humanitarian staging area, in my sleeping bag, on the first night I arrived. The next day, WFP was able to secure a hotel for its staff on mission for the emergency operations.

Although the water was extremely cold, I was so grateful for my first shower in two days. Even if I was wearing the same clothes, I felt reborn.

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As expected, we worked long hours, often from 6 a.m. to 12 a.m. I was running on adrenalin. There was a lot to be done and more when our executive director visited Nepal within the first week of the quake. We only had a day to prepare for her three-day visit—set up government meetings and media interviews, arrange a field visit and host a press conference—with the expectation that all other communication-related duties for the operations would still be fulfilled.

WFP was asked to assist outside Kathmandu. Initially, I didn’t understand the reason for this. But after landing in Kathmandu, I was relieved to see the city not totally decimated, as one may gather from photos on social media. Most of the buildings were standing with nary a broken window, and within the first days, some restaurants and markets were already open.

It was a different story outside Kathmandu. You have to see it to appreciate the relevance of WFP’s expertise and logistics capacity to deliver assistance for the entire humanitarian community. The villages are scattered across mountains. For areas accessible by land, the roads are rough; there are threats of landslides from the aftershocks; some roads are too narrow for delivery trucks to pass. The rest can only be reached by choppers, porters and pack animals—all of which WFP is using.

At the end of my mission, I had mixed feelings about leaving. On one hand, I welcomed the thought of seeing my family and living a “normal” life. On the other, I felt there was more to be done. I was fully immersed in Nepal the whole time I was there. It was my world; I didn’t check Facebook (gasp!) even when the second quake struck on May 12,

although I did post on Twitter to share the news with the world, and on Viber, to assure my family I was okay.

At the TIA, the MH ground staff told me that the flight was again diverting to Dhaka and that I was missing my connecting flight in Kuala Lumpur for Bangkok. This meant going through a harrowing 12-14-hour journey because the next connection depended on seat availability. Although I was assured that luggage wouldn’t be offloaded, thoughts of stopping through Dhaka made me apprehensive. I initially resisted, and even considered taking a different airline, but I decided to bite the bullet one more time. After all, what’s an extra 12 hours compared to everything I did the past month in Nepal? Or, succinctly, it’s nothing compared to what the quake survivors went through.

Looking back, I’m actually glad I took that long MH flight home. To me, it signified coming full circle. My mission had an incredible start, so it was fitting that it have an extraordinary end. Through all the adrenalin-filled days in Nepal, I learned a lot: for example, that despite life’s curve balls, it’s important not to lose one’s sense of good cheer, especially in stressful conditions, and that I’m quite flexible and can live with a set of underwear (but I don’t want this to happen again).

My belief in not taking people and basic necessities in life for granted was reinforced. I learned that after years of practice, I’ve somehow imbibed Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata,” and I’m in fact calm amid the noise and haste. I learned that, despite my size, I’ve much to give. I hope that, whether directly or indirectly, my efforts to help in Nepal made a difference in people’s lives. Most of all, I learned to trust that all things work together for good in the end, especially for

people of goodwill.

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Angeli Mendoza-Ante holds a bachelor’s degree in European languages, magna cum laude, from the University of the Philippines and a master’s degree in peace studies from the International Christian University in Japan as a Rotary Peace Fellow.

TAGS: column, Nepal

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