FAITH OVER FEAR
“Home is where the heart is” – this song by Elvis Presley reminds me why home will always be the place for which I feel the deepest affection no matter where I am. I have been living away from home for quite a long time now. At my workplace even though I lived in a room with a welcoming landlady and her family, it never felt like a home. Living alone was quite disturbing at first and it was difficult to adjust. In fact I would never miss a chance to get back home on the weekends. Eventually it does get better but it was hard to feel protected, loved and secure in lack of familiarity. Nothing beats the comfort of being home.
When the government announced nationwide lockdown to prevent the spread of coronavirus, I was okay with the concept of being away from my family during the pandemic. I was on my regular duty for the first few days and nothing stole the peace of my mind, not even the threat of Covid-19. I can pinpoint the moment when I started thinking of my room as a cage- it was when my office imposed work from home and I could no longer go out. The initial days were just fine but with each passing day it got difficult to get used to. Spending time all by myself started turning into discomfort so I employed a variety of methods to avoid feeling sad and anxious. I did everything to keep myself engaged and motivated but slowly I was getting weaker, mentally and emotionally. I felt trapped inside my own mind experiencing all kinds of intense negative feelings as my mind cycled through dreadful “what-if” scenarios like a tape stuck on a loop. The four walls of my room could no longer comfort the turmoil that was going through my head. Every time I tried to focus on my work, I couldn’t seem to be able to write a simple line- I just stared at the screen with unhappy thoughts and self-doubts.
Days used to pass by somehow but nights were excruciating and sleepless. The image of my mother being alone and the fear of starving myself made me psychologically weaker and I could see no positivity around. It was a lonely time putting on a brave front during video calls to home and trying to make the most of it while crying myself to sleep each night. The longing to be home during the unsettling time fluctuated at different points and the longer I was alone, the more dreaded the uncertain days in the room ahead, surrounded by no one and only little food supplies to feed myself.
However, this saga didn’t last long and I was back to my family which made me believe, no matter how much money I can make, at the end of life, I do not want to regret that I could not invest enough quality time with my family especially when the whole world was locked down with uncertainty.
Not everyone is as privileged as I was. I drove back home when I could see no positivity around but thousands of migrant workers were left stranded, hungry and helpless in the wake of nationwide lockdown. It was too sudden – millions had no time to prepare before the transport and work shut down hence they were forced to get home anyway they could, often on foot, with little money and eateries. Every morning I would see hundreds of rural migrants set out on foot for village miles away walking along the empty highways. While lockdown was necessary, migrant laborers were hit hard financially as no work means no income which made surviving in the city difficult. The overwhelming sight of groups of people heading towards their home, unsure of their route or where they sleep or what they would eat brought silent tears in my eyes as the image of my life a few days ago struck me.
While I was feeling hopeless watching those migrants walk away with an antalgic gait, one of my senior from Rotaract Club of Dhulikhel (the club I was involved in) could no longer sit with his hand folded and made a proposal of helping them with what we could in a group chat. Within a minute, everyone in the group showed enthusiasm and committed to make a contribution. I too joined the mission without a second thought. The best thing about the club is its legacy of contributing towards the community since 2008. The age and profession variation among the club members makes this club different from others. While senior members came up with the plan and official process to execute, members with medical background prescribed safety measures to be followed. And right after receiving official permission from local authorities, our club began to distribute water bottles and food packages, including ORS (Oral Rehydration Solution), to migrants using all the available preventive measures.
While volunteering we realized the need for a pair of walk-able shoes after witnessing a heart wrenching sight of a man using a scarf as a makeshift mask walking barefoot, his only pair of slippers had broken as he walked. When asked, he said, “The image of my wife and child alone at home makes me want to run to them. I have no job, no income and my family is everything I have now. So, I just want to go home.” Every one of us was left numb. We arranged a pair of old walk-able shoes for him along with a food package and water. He walked out of our sight with a faded smile and a determination to reach his home.
The mission continued the next day, as hundreds of people walked in their broken slippers under the extreme sun on a road emptied of traffic with bags containing few clothing and some flatbread to eat. While we were worried about the declining fund that was raised among club members, local authorities and natives of Dhulikhel opened their heart and showered all their love and support to ease the pain of walking migrants. Our club started receiving donations of all kinds- food suppliers, water, ORS, mask, storage room and old shoes which doubled our energy. Eventually we channelized our program and made routine wise shifts among the volunteering members to avoid overcrowding and we were always accompanied by local people.
Among many of those who were walking back home in this unprecedented crisis were hundreds of women and children. One of them was a seven month pregnant lady from Sindhuli who had shifted to Kathmandu to earn a livelihood with her husband and a five year old boy. After the Prime minister’s announcement, she was evicted and then attempted to walk hundred miles back to her native land. “If I don’t die from the disease, I will die of hunger. At least in my home, I won’t starve.”, she said. After providing them a food package and meal we were able to hitch her in the front seat of a truck with her family. I waved her back as I watched her go with her beautiful smile and silently made a prayer for her safety.
Precisely, how many we served per day is unclear but since the lockdown stretched for another 15 days, every day brought new groups of migrants trying to reach home. We could manage to hitch rides for a few needy migrants on a truck or jam them into a possible vehicle by requesting policemen on duty. One thing led to another; beside food packages and old shoes we provided shelter in a local bus to spend nights for hundreds of migrants which could not have been possible without the generous heart of bus owners and residents of Dhulikhel. Additionally, we directed them towards another group who were selflessly serving warm meals for them. Also we guided them through the short cut ways marked by ward representatives to ease the burden of walking for longer hours. And all of these works were possible because of coordination of club members, constant support of ward representatives, policemen on duty, local authorities and all the residents of Dhulikhel and outsiders offered to help us accomplish this mission.
With weeks gone, the days ahead stretched more challenging for migrants when the government restricted movement of people from one district to another. Authorities could have come up with a better idea of organizing a bus to take home some of those stranded on the road, with health checks for everyone before they board. By the country shutdown, they had only two choices: either walk home or die hungry but then their option of walking home too was taken away. Our hands were tied, even when we were ready to get out there and help them with all we could.
For the past few weeks, all these experiences made me realize the value of home. No matter where we are, what we do and where we go, at the end of the day what really matters is home. The dictionary meaning of a “home” would describe it as some building that people live in. But to me and thousands of those migrants, home is more than just a place to live in. Home is where one feels safe and comfortable despite the unsettlement that is going on around in the world. It is where our troubles seem to melt away and our smile never fades away. May be that’s the reason a timeless old quote says “Home is where the heart is”
-Rajina Shrestha
Nepal
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