Afghanistan
mudslide: 'it was so fast that people didn't have a chance
Search
goes on for survivors with hundreds feared dead after country's worst
natural disaster in nearly two decades
3
May, 2014
One
minute there was a hill behind his picturesque village, and the next
Ataullah watched helplessly as tonnes of mud split away and tumbled
down towards the home where his children were playing and his wife
was preparing lunch.
He
never saw them again, nor his parents – seven of the hundreds
killed in a mudslide that obliterated half of Aab Barik village in
Afghanistan's remote north on Friday. It was the worst natural
disaster there in nearly two decades, killing more people than all
the flooding, earthquakes, avalanches and other catastrophes of last
year put together.
"The
mud was jumping down the mountain – it was terrifying. And when I
rushed back and saw my house was entirely gone, I couldn't bear to go
close," he said. Ataullah, who is 25 and like many Afghans uses
only one name, had forced himself to return the next morning.
Red-eyed with grief he set to work on metres of mud with a simple
shovel, like everyone else searching for their dead in an
impoverished area an hour's drive from the nearest road.
He
received an hour's help from a mini-excavator sent by the government
but it unearthed only beams and blankets – no trace of any people
swept away in the cataclysm.
"The
mud came down like a knife," said Abdul Khalleeq, who watched in
horror from his home farther up the hill as more than two dozen of
his relatives were buried alive. "It was so fast that people
down there didn't have a chance."
The
torrent hit about 20 minutes after a much smaller landslide, so in
addition to people in homes and mosques, it swept away dozens,
perhaps hundreds, of people who had rushed to help salvage homes and
rescue people trapped.
The
bigger collapse affected almost half of the steep hill facing the
village. Loosened by days of torrential rain, a huge section dozens
of metres wide broke away, cutting a gaping brown cliff into the side
of the rolling green landscape and sending tonnes of earth and stone
crashing down on unsuspecting people below.
Among
those wiped out were an entire wedding party, with bride, groom, both
sets of parents and all their relatives and friends lost under the
soil. None of their bodies have been found.
Aab
Barik used to be a beautiful cluster of several hundred adobe homes
along a riverbank, with donkeys carrying people and goods up and down
narrow mud lanes. Now its lower end is a lunar surface of mud still
spongy with the extra air it picked up on its tumble down the
mountain.
The
government and aid agencies have rushed food, water and tents to the
site, but there has been no attempt at rescue. The sheer amount of
mud meant the landslide killed everyone it trapped almost instantly.
Just a handful of people caught by the edge of its fury managed to
keep their heads and upper bodies free and are being treated in
hospitals nearby.
The
aid on offer is basic and limited to the worst-affected. Many
villagers said they felt abandoned despite a flying visit by a
vice-president and half a dozen senior ministers to investigate the
scale of the disaster. Dirty and exhausted refugees from the
landslide filed up the rolling hill leading out of town looking for
help, or headed up to tents on the hillside, terrified of further
deaths.
"The
village is empty, because people think the hill could collapse again
at any moment," said 40-year-old Abdul Rahim, who was hunting
for several family members.
The
torrent of mud blocked streams that flow into the valley and vast
cracks have now formed across the rest of the hill, above the site of
the collapse, threatening another disaster.
"Our
house is just at the edge of the mudslide. We escaped with our lives
but we daren't go back," said Babai, carrying her two-year-old
daughter, Habiba, after a futile search for a tent. "I think we
are going to have to sleep on the mountainside," added her son,
Murtaza. "We have nowhere to go."
Villagers'
estimates of the lives lost varied wildly from several hundred to
2,500, but all agree the accident has devastated their community.
"Since
this happened I haven't eaten or drunk anything – I just can't
swallow," said Abdul Waheed, 28, who lost several uncles and
cousins. One woman in a headscarf printed with cheerful red and
orange flowers wandered through the village chanting to herself and
leading a small girl by the hand. She had been driven at least
temporarily mad by the loss of all her sons, a neighbour said.
Most
villagers agreed that 200 or 300 homes had been buried but none could
say exactly who was home and who was out – herding cows, visiting a
nearby town or simply having tea with friends – and who had come
down early from the higher part of town for the wedding, or to
prepare for Friday prayers. People from nearby villages joined locals
at impromptu ceremonies mourning everyone entombed.
"I
am not sure exactly how many died," Khalleeq said of his
relatives. "It's too painful to think about them one by one."
Like many others he had been digging through the mud with just a
shovel and wants the government to bring heavy machinery to recover
the dead. The provincial governor has ruled that out, saying the
scale of the disaster and the remoteness of the village mean the site
of the mudslide will be consecrated as a mass grave.
"I
don't think I will find the bodies but I have to try," said
Mardan, 20, who lost his father and uncle, and barely escaped with
his own life. "I want the government to come, dig out our bodies
and find us somewhere to go. We're sure the mountain is coming down
again."
The
search for survivors ended on Saturday night as rescuers realised
that efforts to penetrate the metres of thick mud covering village
houses was futile.
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