Thank God For Facebook Disaster Check, I Think
Facebook is where I learned about this weekend’s devastating earthquake in Nepal. I learned about it because it alerted me that two of my family members in the area were safe and sound, a feature that has apparently been around since last year. My family is from Lucknow, a city in Uttar Pradesh about 130 miles from the Nepal border, which I have now learned is in the “moderate risk zone” but still, you know, looks pretty damn close.
I had a quick flood of emotions when I saw the notification. What earthquake? Where? Oh thank god they’re safe. Wait, what would have happened if they weren’t safe? I have other family in India, family that isn’t on Facebook, or maybe is but who I’m not friends with, who maybe aren’t safe and now I don’t know. What would Facebook look like if they weren’t safe? “Sorry, your other cousin was in the area but hasn’t been marked safe”? They’ve been marked missing, crushed, dead?
The main feeling I landed on, though, is guilt. That notification was the first time I had thought of my great uncle in months. My grandparents, dad and uncle moved to America in the early 1960s, and even though relatives from India would occasionally visit, I’ve only been to India twice, and my dad hasn’t even been since before I was born. The connections “home” are ever thinning. I worry I have no right to feel relief at my relatives’ safety, since I haven’t exactly been concerned about their livelihood in non-earthquake times.
There have been dozens of disasters I’ve sighed about before moving on to the next tab, just because they are far away, and I know this is wrong but we all only have so much capacity to rack ourselves raw. I admit this feels more personal, just because of some instinct of geography that I barely get to claim. I’m going to try to remember this feeling the next time something like this happens, to remember that every disaster is always taking place in someone’s grandparents’ home town.
Anyway, there are a bunch of places you can donate relief funds.