We live in interesting times. I live in a city that was decimated by an earthquake on the 22nd February 2011. We have had more than 13,000 aftershocks since then. It has been a city living on its nerves with the inhabitants, like me, ‘hardwired’ to react to movement of the earth, the sound of a quake approaching, or, as often as not some innocent loud noise such as a truck driving by. We stop, drop and cover……or freeze to see how things are panning out, and in sometimes we blindly panic and run for a seemingly safe place. Our wits are bejangled with fear.
The experience of an earthquake bites into a core aspect of the psyche. We expect the land to stay beneath our feet, and when it doesn’t and all safety is violently removed our very bedrock, physical and emotional, is shaken to the core.
My experience on the ‘day when everything changed’ was typical of many. I had fortunately left my workplace on the east side of the city after a late cancellation of a client. As I drove across town I ‘saw’ an unusual thing with the Avon River that threads it’s way through our city. I say ‘saw’ because I don’t know whether it was a truly visual thing, or a more intuitive psychic vision. The river looked empty to me with most of its water having disappeared into the ground. I wondered if it had something to do with the full moon or some weird tide. I felt uneasy.
I had a decision to make about whether to go into Cashel Mall to pick up a book I had ordered from the Scorpio bookshop, or to go home via the hairdresser to pick up some product. I chose the latter as I had a client to see at 2pm and thought I would spend some time in meditation first. It was a fortunate decision as the mall suffered from building failures and some parapets crashed down on people during the quake. The peaceful shopping and lunching was, in an instant, turned into mayhem, dust – and death.
My chosen path had me in the shop handing my credit card to one of the owners as she went to pass my goods across the counter. A noise, sounding so loud it could have been a fast approaching train, shattered the air. In the same instant the ground started to violently heave threatening to knock us off our feet. In a blink of time my mind crystalised as I assessed my situation. I worked out where the power lines were, and any cars that might have still been moving. I remembered how the building had performed in a previous quake- and in dismay recalled the back wall’s cracks and how the florist had lost her shop frontage. Generally it had not coped particularly well, and this quake was shaping up big time! I wanted to be outside, a natural, if inappropriate decision. It is hard to argue with instinct.
The door was wildly swinging from side to side and threatening to make itself unavailable for safe passage, but as the glass shelves broke and product rained down on me from above my head I risked the heaving door and made a bid for the middle of the road. The shop canopy roared upwards as I was under it only to crash down onto the support struts that had been put in place after the previous quake in September 2010. To the neighbourhood’s chagrin the struts were still there, and in their eyes this presented an ugly and unnecessary sight in the leafy, exclusive Fendalton suburb. Thankfully their gripes had not carried enough sway to have the things removed….as this probably saved lives, if not definite injuries. I was very grateful in retrospect as there was no time to think about it right then
I was first into the middle of the road, and to this day, although I can remember silly minutiae from the day, I cannot remember which way I went around my car that was parked immediately outside the door. Somehow I stayed upright as the ground was tilting crazily.
Many people, mainly mothers taking time out to lunch in the local cafe, and a few office workers from the Real Estate office gathered into a heaving huddle. All traffic halted with the violence of the quake, poles were jerking around and trees shaking. As the earth settled we reached for each other in concern, to check if others were alright. A quick group hug unconsciously and naturally unfolded and strangers were embraced. It was a knee jerk reaction of fear, and relief, people reaching out to others in a moment of terror, offering small comfort in the starkness of the moment. In seconds a universal mind shift occurred as our thoughts and fears shifted to those nearest and dearest to us. We all silently moved off to go and search for our families and friends. The mothers in the group instantly took flight to find their children, controlled panic on their faces.
It was obvious to me that the city was in big trouble. I was only a kilometre away from the central city and could see a cloud of dust going up as I climbed into my car. As I went to leave the road again suddenly started to buck and thresh about. With some disbelief I watched what looked like a wave of water coming up the road towards me. The road carpet rippled like the sea as another quake traveled the road from the west, tumbling and damaging houses in its wake. Barely had this quake stopped and I was on my way prepared to take any risk to find my child. The cracks across the road and the lift to the bridge near the park were not enough to halt my journey to find my son. I also knew I would have to beat the traffic coming out of the city as I had no doubt there was to be a mass exodus as people made their way home. All traffic lights were out, car alarms were crazily going off in a cacophony of noise; the pale of dust and smoke above the city across the park from me signaled the failure of buildings. I could feel death in the air as sirens trumpeted the disaster.
It was the start of days of mayhem, stories of loss, stories of survival and miraculous feats. It was the start of wonderful acts of humanity, a time where teams of people from many parts of the world converged to help, a time when the local community found a previously unknown cohesion, empathy and compassion.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times in our small city. It was an extraordinary time of humanity seen, felt and given. With the loss came an unforeseen gain and our lovely city of Christchurch became a deeper community as we gathered to support each other through this emergency. We have lost many things, we have lost people and our lives will never be the same but we have emerged to rebuild in a stronger and more cohesive way. We are shaken but not stirred and the core of our city remains, where it always was – in the people, in the people, in the people.
I shall write more of this day and ones following. I particularly wish to tell you about our Eastside community.
Arohanui. (Maori for much love).
inzenergy 