How people fight their way back into their lives from the missing blatings

To the right of the tunnel, the Lonza thunders through its tight river bed. The brown water foams. A wax post builds up in front of the tunnel. The man in orange demands the papers and growls: “We do not want disaster tourists here. Only residents, security guards, specialists and media are allowed.” He looks at the papers and gives his consent to the Lötschental for a onward journey.