MUCHHOK, Nepal — After the heaving and lurching had stopped, after the wall of his home had disintegrated and the cries had begun to rise up from the rubble all around him, Thakur Prasad Badu says he ran toward the school.
He had been outside gathering corn when last Saturday’s earthquake struck just before noon and leveled this remote community — one of hundreds of similar wood-and-stone villages that cling to the hair-raising slopes and carved mud terraces stretching out in all directions from Nepal’s Kathmandu Valley. And he knew that a handful of teachers from surrounding wards had gathered for a meeting at the school, a U-shaped compound of one-story brick buildings where he had also worked as an instructor for decades.
“I saw that there was no school,” Badu recalled. “Only stones.”
Most of the teachers escaped. Four did not, and in the chaotic 24 hours that followed, torrential rains and a succession of powerful aftershocks punctuated a historic temblor than left at least two-dozen people here dead and the village looking like a war zone.
By the middle of last week, aid and supplies were only slowly — and by many accounts, haphazardly — penetrating the more densely populated areas in and around Nepal’s capital city of Kathmandu, where most of the more than 7,200 casualties occurred. A full six days after the earthquake, Badu’s ward, like myriad other smaller but hard-hit and hard-to-reach communities dotting the quake zone, had yet to see a single government representative, military personnel, or relief volunteer.
Read More:Nepalese Village | Al Jazeera America.