Ten years later

Ten years ago today a violent 7.6 magnitude earthquake brought to us devastation that was beyond imagination. More than 70,000 people were killed and as many were seriously injured. About 3.5 million were left without shelter and over half a million houses flattened.
Six thousand schools, 800 health facilities, 6,400 km roads, and 50-60 percent of water supply, sanitation, telecommunication and power infrastructure was affected in an area spread across 30,000 sq.km of mostly mountainous terrain. Behind these faceless statistics are heartrending stories of scattered communities, and lives that will never be the same again.
As the nation reeled in shock, the government appeared clueless. It was left wringing its hands, ruing its inability to respond. It failed to provide the first and most important lifesaving post-disaster response of search and rescue. In relief assistance too, the government trailed behind citizens who sprung into action, within hours gathering and delivering relief items. Their swift, unconditional generosity shone a beam of hope in the overbearing gloom of death, destruction and government dysfunction.
Two weeks later, government actions appeared. On October 24, 2005, an ordinance was passed to set up the Earthquake Reconstruction & Rehabilitation Authority (ERRA) – ostensibly created as a hare capable of outpacing the glacial tortoise of mainstream government. It soon sprouted tentacles. The Provincial Earthquake Reconstruction & Rehabilitation Authority (PERRA) in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and the State Earthquake Reconstruction & Rehabilitation Agency (SERRA) in Azad Jammu & Kashmir emerged. District Rehabilitation Units (DRUs) were also set up, staffed and equipped. A mammoth parallel bureaucracy took roots – run by a mix of military and civilian personnel, best described as an awkward couple devoid of chemistry.
External agencies engaged to assess damages confirmed the worst-affected districts were Abbottabad, Mansehra, Battagram, Shangla and Kohistan in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and Muzaffarabad, Bagh, Neelum and Rawlakot in Azad Jammu and Kashmir. An army of consultants and technical experts were put to work. A rehabilitation plan divided into 12 sectors was drawn up and its cost was estimated at a colossal $5.2 billion. An impressive donor conference was held on November 19, 2005 to which external support of $6.2 billion was pledged.
Two months into the disaster, the government appeared determined and clear-sighted. It had a new fast-track institutional machine, a detailed reconstruction plan and pledged funds. So what went wrong?
Ten years later, why are schoolchildren still waiting for reconstruction of their schools? Why are patients waiting for rebuilt BHUs? Why are people from areas condemned as red zones still waiting for a clear policy? Why did people move on, tired of waiting for new jobs?
As we cross the ten-year milestone in the arduous journey to rebuild homes and lives devastated by the 2005 earthquake it is time to take stock. It is time for accountability. It is time to stop waiting.
ERRA’s data as of February 2015 confirms that a staggering 2,873 schools are still not complete out of a total 5,701 to be reconstructed. This sorry statistic includes the government primary school in Battagram’s village Kolay. People of this remote rural area say a tender for reconstructing the school was issued around 2007 and four walls were erected in 2009. Nothing has happened since. Abandoned, the incomplete structure is used as a cattle pen. A tiny pre-fabricated box was given as a temporary school structure. Small and suffocating, it is equally spurned by students and teachers, who prefer to hold classes under open skies.
The story of this rural school is similar to many more. Tragically, these include numerous schools that were only marginally damaged by the earthquake. Yet, the government razed their structures to the ground with the promise to build better schools.
Figures on health are equally dismal. Out of the planned 306 facilities, 115 are yet to be reconstructed, denying healthcare to areas and people that were poor even before the 2005 earthquake unleashed further deprivation.
Incredibly, ERRA reports incomplete projects in every sector: transport, water and sanitation, livelihood, social protection, power and telecom, environment, watershed management, and community livelihood rehabilitation. The exception is medical rehabilitation with six planned projects that are complete. Despite its failure to fast-track or finish rehabilitation, ERRA and its tentacles continue to survive. The purpose of maintaining these structures at taxpayers’ expense is not clear.
A frustrating institutional muddle adds more confusion. When people ask the DRU about their school reconstruction, officials on duty claim they have no funds and that the DRU does not implement projects. When people turn to mainstream government, they are told earthquake rehabilitation is the domain of ERRA and its sub-units. Tossed around, survivors of the 2005 earthquake are desperately looking for a sign that tells them: the buck stops here.
In 2010 another cook emerged to stir the disaster brew. The National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA) and its provincial and district counterparts were created, with plans underway to also have tehsil presence. The need for disaster management in vulnerable countries like Pakistan can hardly be overstated. But whose job is it anyway?
Should the NDMA be responsible for enforcing codes that make buildings earthquake-resistant? Should we not strengthen emergency response forces like Rescue 1122 to provide swift search and rescue assistance? Shouldn’t disaster preparedness be integrated into development planning to make Pakistan more resilient? There may still be a role for institutions like the NDMA. But it must be shaped from lessons offered by ERRA and its sub-units that failed the survivors of the 2005 earthquake.
After ten years, to whom should these survivors turn? Which door should they knock? Is anyone listening? A glimmer of hope briefly flickered when Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s FY2014-15 budget included an allocation of Rs300 million for reconstructing 760 schools destroyed by the 2005 earthquake. But it turned into dismay as the FY2015-16 figures showed that the provincial government was unable to expend more than Rs4.1 million – less than two percent of the allocated Rs300 million.
Tracking provincial budgets is possible. But what about rehabilitation funds maintained off-budget? How much of the pledged $6.2 billion in external assistance was received? How much was spent, and on what? Is there any balance? Many questions abound. Perhaps the Public Accounts Committee or NAB can help get some answers. Among those seeking answers are hundreds of thousands of school-going children, like those of the village Kolay. Their question is simple: “when will our school be rebuilt?”
As we mark the tenth annoversary of a disaster that will forever haunt us, we will remember all those who lost their lives on October 8, 2005. Let us also not forget those who survived. Like the people of Balakot who perhaps long ago stopped waiting for relocation to the safer New Balakot City.
The writer is a political activist who works for the Omar Asghar Khan Foundation.
Email: rdohad@oakdf.org.pk