Dealing with Disaster:
The Pakistan earthquake killed thousands, but hope remained
By Duaa Khalid
On the morning of October 8, I sat on my bed and tried to concentrate on my statistics notes—I had an exam that morning. The dullness of my mind at that early hour, coupled with the stress of the upcoming exam, made me begin to wonder if my cell phone resting on the bed next to me was vibrating. The whole room, in fact, was shaking. My roommate jumped up and shook me out of my dazed state. Though it was Ramadan and our throats were parched from fasting, we screamed along with our fellow dorm mates and thundered down the five flights of stairs. Rooms did not feel safe; the building became a hazard. Time seemed to slow that day. The residents of the top two floors of my dorm were asked to vacate and stay downstairs for the night. As my group of friends sat outside worried about what was to come, I saw my roommate sitting by herself on the pavement feverishly reading surahs from the Holy Qur’an to ease her nerves. A lone figure, she sat awaiting the arrival of miracles.
After the earthquake, a friend told me that she had felt like that moment of terror was Judgment Day. She had stopped in her tracks for seconds in wonder, waiting to hear angels’ trumpets.
After the quake, I became an insomniac. Lying in bed, all I could see were pictures of the victims—the thought that 30,000 people were no longer alive. The nearby city of Karachi donated so much clothing and food that they had a milk shortage—residents had donated all they owned. Tents became a treasured commodity. Piles of donations were left at the PAF Museum, so much that it was overflowing with supplies and clothing. Doctors gave up food and sleep so they could tend to their patients. Exams, education, friends, and even families were no longer a top priority, as we all joined together to help those who could not help themselves. In every hospital there was a volunteer to help cheer up the victims. The names in the newspapers that I used to brush aside wewe no longer strangers living far away; these were my countrymen.
Thoughts of bodies lining street corners still keep me up most nights, remembering how sudden a moment it was. But my mind is eased when I think of the miracles that came after the quake, the miracles that my roommate had so confidently prayed for.
Duaa Khalid is from Karachi, Pakistan and attends the Lahore University of Management Sciences. Contact her at duaa13@hotmail.com.