Community Matters

After the Devastating Earthquake, Nepalese Photographers Respond

What does it mean to have a photography community? What could such a community do? What can they — on a societal level — achieve?

Photo Circle’s exhibition, ‘Remembering the Lost Sculptures of Nepal’ in partnership with the Himalayan Art and Cultural Heritage Project. Paintings, interviews, and photographic documentation by Joy Lynn Davis weave together narratives of Kathmandu’s sacred spaces, exploring how people respond when religious art objects — that exist, not as commodities, but as vital living community participants — are physically removed. Photo: Sagar Chettri

I’ve been a part of many discussions about the need for artists to support each other and to have a space for discourse and collaboration. But until last week I didn’t appreciate what such a shared space, such a collective, may be capable of. I spent five days with Photo Circle in Nepal.

Photo Circle has, over the last eight years, created a venue for Nepali photographers to learn, grow and find international opportunities. They promote an interdisciplinary approach — combining a passion for social change with an understanding of visual history. They encourage members to locate and even delineate the intersections of photography with other art forms.

The Quake, the Response

Eight years and then, two weeks ago, the Nepal Earthquake.

When it hit, I was in an old building in Patan with Photo Circle founders Bhushan Shilpakar and NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati. We ducked under the tables. Wave upon wave of fluid ground. As he felt it passing, Bhushan shouted, “NOW! RUN!”

We were out in a minute. The building had cracked. A gash several feet deep ran along its left side.

My legs shook uncontrollably. I looked up. Some of the group had risked going back up to help a construction worker stuck under the debris.

We were a group of about 25, all there for a workshop. Artists, writers, photographers, designers, professors, civil society members. Head count. Everyone was safe. We had all made it out.

‘Searching for Saulin.’
I went back to Sankhu. I saw Sapna resting inside her tent, she was asleep. Bal Krishna Shrestha, Saulin’s father stepped out and offered me a stool. “The monks were exhausted and left around 5pm. At that time I kind of lost hope of finding Saulin. Then at 6:15pm our neighbors came running down, shouting that they had found Saulin. He didn’t make it,” said Bal Krishna. “At least we found his body. He was playing in the alley behind our home. We kept searching in the wrong place this whole time. Sapna is finally resting after eight days.” Bal Krishna works as a part time tailor, stitching school uniforms and works his field. The potatoes are ready in field. He plans to take Sapna and his elder son to harvest the potatoes tomorrow. Photo by @sumitdayal via @nepalphotoproject

Within the hour, another two tremors hit. I was terrified.

In the next hour, NayanTara and Bhushan got to work. They began to survey the damage, took calls, made calls. They checked in with their families and the families of many others.

Bhushan left the safety of the tennis court (away from all standing structures) to which we had retreated, and helped the emergency teams rescue a woman who was buried under a collapsed sattal a few kilometres away.

NayanTara arranged space for us to sleep. Hot food. She drove me to the airport at 8am. And without a moment of rest herself, she set up a meeting for volunteers at 9am at the Yellow House, Sanepa. I was battling the airport authorities for a seat on a plane out by then.

Back in Bombay, I watched in amazement as Photo Circle, their friends from Nepal’s art community and photographers from across the region got to work. This community has accomplished so much already.

Ram Bahadur Tamang tries to recall the number of houses and their inhabitants in his locality. In total, there were 13 houses which has been damaged and none of them are habitable. 60 people of the community besides living adjacent to the highway received their first batch of relief after a week from the quake. — Simpokhari, Kavre. Photo: Sagar Chitrakar / @blindmanche via @nepalphotoproject

The #NepalPhotoProject

By noon, the morning after the quake, @nepalphotoproject — an Instagram account documenting the aftermath of the earthquake in Nepal was live.

Photographers from the region, as well as aid organizations, tagged images #nepalphotoproject. If an image came from a trusted source and provided important information or appealing visuals, it was posted on the account.

After all these months on Instagram, I can finally appreciate the usefulness of the ubiquitous #.

If anyone notices an image that they think should be on the feed they can comment on it, bringing it to the notice of @nepalphotoproject. You can also email images to nepalphotoproject@gmail.com.

LEFT: Man Kaji Magar has been busy selling meat since the early morning today at Gwarko, Lalitpur. “Don’t ask me how much is it per kilo, just tell me how many kilos you need. I don’t have time to reply back to your question.” Photo by @bhushanshilpakar. RIGHT: It is not always cheers of victories for the people involved in the rescue operations. Here, a day before famously rescuing Pema Lama, L.B. Basnet, an officer from the Nepal Armed Police Force (APF) is seen doing necessary paperwork after retrieving the body of a 47-year-old shopkeeper, Dambar Karki. It took the rescue operators 9 hours to pull Mr. Karki’s body out from the ground floor of a six storey building of Paschim Pokhara Guest House in Gongabu. Photo: @shikharbhattarai via @nepalphotoproject

Like EverydayAsia, EverydayAfrica and similar accounts, the Nepal Photo Project privileges a depth of knowledge and the perspective of those living the daily realities on the ground. It rejects over exoticized, stereotypical or — as in the case of present day Nepal — endlessly hopeless representations.

However, different from the “Everyday” accounts, this project is based around an emergency and — for now — is considered a part of the relief effort, a place for people to go for reliable information. Images of missing people whose families are desperately looking for information have been posted. Photos of broken piggy banks, childhood reminiscences and stories of hope have featured.

LEFT: “I had desire to go sit in my favourite spot and have a milk tea at Pasang Didi’s tea shop in Kathmandu Durbar Square. Then sudden realization that I don’t have that favourite spot anymore. I shot the Kathmandu sunrise for the first time from that place. My love of photography began from this courtyard of Basantapur. My love for this beautiful city is now more strong and deep. We will overcome.” Photo: @saagarchhetri via @nepalphotoproject

Not Your Usual Images

The #NepalPhotoProject is a subtle assertion of the local into the reality of the global media and NGO environment that, unfortunately, may still hire and fly in foreign photographers unfamiliar with a country to make sensational disaster images.

Dayamayi has run her tea shop in Panga for the past 7 years. When the earthquake hit she says her shop rattled but did not fall. When she saw the destruction around she opened her stall immediately for people to access tea, water and supplies. “In times like these everyone should help others,”she says. Even after 4 days she hasn’t closed her shop. Photo by @prashanthvishwanathan via @nepalphotoproject

It is not only the Nepal Photo Project that meets at the Yellow House. In the mornings and evenings, all volunteers convene to organize urgent emergency relief. Assessments are made, materials distributed and teams sent to locations still without aid.

“Gearing up for Gorkha! Driving supplies to rural communities in Gorkha district, the epicenter of the Nepal Earthquake.” Photo by @allengula via @nepalphotoproject

A page for donations has been set up, and a Facebook page provides continuous updates about the work being done — with images taken on location. The numbers of volunteers and contributions has been going up daily.

On day seven at the Yellow House, the Nepal Photo Project posts on Facebook: “Growing steady. Growing strong.”

Documenting and Doing

Leaving behind the decades-long-debates pitting a photographer’s ability to make images against the ethical responsibility to act in crises, here is a group of photographers making images AND working to mitigate pain and provide relief.

It makes perfect sense that they would adopt a dual role as many of them are working within their home country. What they do — and who they are — in the present shapes what the future will bring for them. There are still many battles to be fought but they are braved from a place of knowledge and belonging.

Kilay lightens up the mood with his antics as he shows Pemba Thamba how to walk with crutches. Pemba, had his leg amputated five days ago after it was crushed under rubble during the big quake. The men in orange jump suits inside bright white tents with colorful dragons and traditional designs are operating a medical camp in Bidur, Nuwakot. This is Bhutan’s relief team led by its royal physician. A sixty two member team of medical professionals and operating staff are currently running Bhutan’s first-ever international relief effort that is set up specifically to handle trauma cases. Photo by @sumitdayal via @nepalphotoproject

In the prologue to his contemporary history of Nepal, veteran journalist Prakash Jha wrote, “After the crowds return home, after the frenzy which accompanies a moment of political victory dissipates, after the camera lights shift and reporters move on the next story, the hard work of politics begins.”

Jha was reflecting upon the successful People’s Movement that brought democracy to Nepal less than a decade ago. In the aftermath of this earthquake, we will witness the involvement and the coming-and-going of many (international) groups. Now is not a time of political victory but it is a time of national unity. Things will get quieter and the adrenaline of the people will ebb in the same way.

The depth of damage and stories of despair will fade away from the front pages. The printed paragraphs will grow shorter in length and the next eye-catching event and its images will dominate the world’s media. The hard work of rebuilding will just be beginning.

The Valley of Bhaktapur. Some breathing space amidst all these visuals of devastation.
Growing up in Kathmandu was magical. At the time, literally a small quaint kingdom. A home with a small cow shed and an orchard in the backyard. A larger than life tree towering over an old temple, stretching it’s long arms over the entire neighbourhood. At dawn the sounds of Brobdingnagian temple bells, struck loud enough to invoke the gods from their sleep. All that against the backdrop of a cacophony of the zillion birds that lived on this tree. Giant wheel chariots, living goddesses and royal processions. Demons and yeti’s were still real and come autumn, the breeze would fill the skies with kites. Not a day went by without adventure.
Photo: @sumitdayal via @nepalphotoproject

I’m left to meditate on the poignant words of Prawin Adhikari, a writer from the workshop and the one who kept us calm in those desperate seconds on Saturday.

“What once had been: that we will mourn. But I will not despair although I mourn. Life moves inevitably ahead.”

I believe this exceptional community with whom I was privileged to spend just a few days will hold fast. Deep as their roots have grown and intertwined, they will be there to listen and act.

Editor’s note: Alisha Sett is in continuous contact with multiple Nepal Photo Project photographers. They have dispersed across the region to document and contribute to recovery efforts. Sett will be publishing updates upon their work in the coming months.

This article was published on the Invisible Photographer Asia.