Kathmandu laughs off its 'powder keg' tag
Nestled in the steep foothills of the world's youngest mountains, the Nepali capital of Kathmandu has been described as sitting on a seismic powder keg. The crowded city lies above the fault line that pushes the Himalayas higher every year.
But the tragedy in Kashmir has done little to convince locals that their city may be at risk. Raising the question of earthquake safety draws more bemused giggles than expressions of concern.
Bishnu Shrestha is the manager of Dhukuti, a shop catering for foreign residents. He believes he has the only earthquake survival kits on sale in the city, but he quietly admits that he does not see much point in them.
'Most people buying it are foreigners. I think in Kathmandu it's not necessary,' he says. The steel trunks containing an axe and crowbar, plastic sheeting, bottled water and medical supplies cost US$48.
Amod Dixit, of the National Society for Earthquake Technology, says a major quake hits Kathmandu, on average, every 70 years. The last one, measuring 8.3 on the Richter scale, was in 1934.
'We estimate our losses based on the 1934 quake,' he says. 'That puts Kathmandu as the most at-risk city in the world, with up to 40,000 killed and 100,000 needing hospital treatment.'
Experts have been predicting for years that an area known as the 'Himalayan Gap', roughly corresponding to modern day Nepal, is likely to experience a major earthquake at any time.
Roger Bilham, of the University of Colorado, says the Himalayan region has the potential to generate several powerful quakes.
Mr Dixit says the problem is made worse by the soil of the Kathmandu valley, which was once a lake bed. 'It's like jelly on a platter,' he says. Rapid urban growth and 'very low quality construction', is also a problem in the city of 1.5 million people, he adds. Ninety-seven per cent of buildings are put up in the 'informal sector' and a recent building code has yet to be implemented in a proper way, he says.
Kishu Chand, whose family recently built an earthquake resistant house, says that distant relatives laughed at them for going to the extra trouble and expense.
Mr Dixit says he encounters the same problem when his organisation visits construction sites.
'There is initial resistance, and at least half of them think we are funny.'
