Taj Mahal-Kathmandu Walk

A year and a half after the earthquake in Nepal, no one was talking about the tragedy any more. The media stopped mentioning the subject, and major NGOs abandoned their positions. They packed their bags and set off for new destinations. However, on the ground, problems persisted. The rubble was still visible in the cities, and in the rural areas, the villages decimated by the earthquake had no access or reconstruction plans.

I also made plans to return to my life in Portugal. I had asked my wife to marry me, and we wanted to start a family and set up a professional project. However, I felt a calling that could not be ignored. The promises I had made to hundreds of children in Nepal had to be fulfilled. I couldn't turn my back and continue my journey as if nothing had happened.

In December 2016, I was in Goa, India, to celebrate New Year's Eve with my wife's family, when I was struck by a pang of conscience: I had to keep helping the people of Nepal. “Are you coming back tomorrow?” was the question the Nepalese children asked the volunteers after the earthquake. A question that still echoes in my mind. It was then that I realised a truth that remains to this day: I cannot turn my back on Nepal. I will return today, tomorrow and always.

This is how the first Humanitarian Adventure was born. That's how it all started: from the desire to continue helping the families I had met after the 2015 earthquake. In an act of madness and without any preparation, I decided to walk 1,200 kilometres on foot, alone, between the door of the Taj Mahal in India and Camp Hope in Kathmandu, a project I had helped implement after the earthquake, and which was still active on the ground.

For 53 days I walked from sunrise to sunset guided by the dream of raising funds to build two houses in the Himalayas. Not knowing where to sleep or which would be the best route to take.

India is not just a country, it is another planet. The poverty I witnessed daily was branded into my heart like a hot iron. I walked around with a ten-kilo backpack, always carrying a bamboo stick in my hands to ward off the dogs and beggars who tried to stop me.

After a few days, I started having several physical problems, mainly blisters on my feet. The biggest of all was called “Fernanda”. It was a blister that decided to appear on top of another blister that already existed. I didn't even know such a phenomenon was possible, it was an extremely painful situation. I wasn't used to walking so many kilometres on a daily basis, and in addition to the injuries in my feet, legs and back, I found myself talking to myself, hallucinating or not knowing where I was.

Sometimes I entered “small” towns in northern India, which had populations of around five million people. I have never seen so many human beings in the same place and so close to each other. I saw people drinking water from places I wouldn't dare touch with my feet. I walked by day, by night, through the countryside, in cities and near the Ganges River. Always surrounded by sacred cows, monkeys, elephants, colourful buildings, Hindu temples and noisy tuk-tuks.

In the end, with ribs showing on my torso and a beard covering my neck, I reached the top of a hill and saw the city of Kathmandu. I was greeted with euphoria by hundreds of residents of Camp Hope, and I achieved the goal of raising funds to build two houses. I ended up writing a book about this adventure that is available in Portuguese and English, “My Way to Kathmandu”.