Monday, February 28, 2011

From Silence Comes Strength

It was only last December that we last did this. Stood in silence as a nation to remember those who had died. It was for the Pike River and at the time, it seemed incomprehensible that there was a death toll of 29. The Cathedral bells in Christchurch rang for each of those miners - just people going about their jobs when something happened. At my workplace at the Christchurch City Council, we stopped and stood as one. Many emotional and disbelieving people. "How could this happen?" We stood as one for our West Coast whanau. The raw, emotional power of standing in silence in honour of your fallen brothers and sisters. They could have been people you met in the Nelson Creek pub. You could have spoken to one of them when visiting Greymouth. You could have joked and laughed with them in a Blackball Street. The West Coast has the reputation for some of the friendliest people you could ever meet anywhere in the world. It wasn't fair.

The two minute silence was a way for many New Zealanders to say to the West Coast "We are all Coasters and you are New Zealanders. We are with you and we share your grief". For the Coasters who attended the memorial service to know that, would have felt comforting.

When discussing Pike River with friends, family and work colleagues, we felt compelled to compare it directly to our own experiences with the 4 September earthquake. I felt, as many others did, that we were lucky. Nobody died, it was only bricks and mortar, and because Pike River had a high death toll, those communities would find it difficult to overcome this tragedy.

One week ago, our own tragedy happened. For those who were in the central city at that time, they would have all known that a tragedy of huge proportions had occurred. The luck we had with the first earthquake had run out. As the death toll rose and the names started appearing, we started to recognise these people who have died. The enormity of what has happened started to sink in.

Today there was two minutes silence for the victims of the 22 February earthquake. All I can think of when I see the images, is what strength those of us who are struggling to deal with this can gain, knowing that our fellow Kiwi's and Aussies and citizens of the world, who are probably desperate to help in any way they can, are giving us.

To all of you. Thank you. You give me strength to deal with tomorrow. And the next day.

Kia Ora.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Another Day We Won't Forget

When Cyclone Yasi struck Northern Queensland, much of the discussion around Christchurch was, "What would be worse? A cyclone or an earthquake?". Almost overwhelmingly the answer was a cyclone. The relentless force of a cyclone. The lethal force of flooding. Until today.

Today Christchurch residents were given a sharp reminder from 4 September. The suddenness, the ferocity and the sheer unpredictable nature of earthquakes.

I was in the work lunchroom on the fifth floor of the Christchurch City Council Civic building when the quake struck. That familiar deafening roar and shake. I dived under a table and wore a hot chocolate on the way down. There were some screams and people dropping to the ground where they stood. I held on under the table alongside a man I'm sure I saw at the Leonard Cohen concert. The shake was not as long as the 4 September shake, but far more intense. Once safe, everyone emerged.

The first thing I heard was someone saying "Look at our city!" And it was a sickening sight. Clouds of dust were rising up from the streets in a grid pattern, obscuring the lower buildings and surrounding the taller buildings. Never seen anything like it before - on TV or in person. From there the evacuation alarm went off and like most people, I went straight for the stairwell, ignoring my cell phone on my desk. I passed one person tending to a cut on her leg as she walked down due to the windows at the front smashing. We all sidestepped the sheets of Gib that had fallen off the walls. It seemed to take an age to get out of the building. Once out it became apparent that we couldn't stay on Hereford Street, I walked around the block and caught up with Mat from the Tech team. I tried to use his phone to call home but couldn't get an answer. We walked around to Cashel Street with others. I said I should go and try and find my mother who works across the river. I saw a scene that will haunt me forever - a small girl, about the age of my daughter Sasha, being carried by some men towards the hospital. She had a similar school uniform to Sasha.

The damage was far worse than the 4 September earthquake. Huge cracks and creases in the road. Parts where the footpaths and the grass verges and separated. I tried to find my mother but couldn't see her. Significantly for me, I also couldn't find any of her workmates.

I caught up with Mat again and we started walking towards Victoria Square. I straight away noticed the Scott statue had toppled. It was half buried in the ground. As it was a grey, cold day, fortunately there was nobody having lunch underneath. As we walked on, I saw down Worcester Street that our lovely cathedral had lost its spire. Cafe Roma building was badly damaged as was a number of taller buildings in the immediate vicinity. The Provincial Chambers which had been damaged on 4 September, was now completely collapsed. Many of the bridges had large creases where they joined the road.

Mat went off towards the east of the city at Victoria Square and I carried on towards Hagley Park. I walked down the middle of the street to avoid any further damage and turned down Durham Street. The Methodist Church which was badly damaged previously, was now a pile of rubble. A workman was being lead out - obviously in shock and injured.

The liquefaction was everywhere. Silt volcanoes bubbling up from under the streets and in the parks. It was becoming hard to navigate through the flooding and piles of silt. I helped a wee boy step over a large pool of water so he could catch up with his mum.

I walked through Hagley Park and talked to a guy with the White Ferns (the womens' cricket team?) I cut across after being diverted by a sewerage leak and once past the park, noticed the damage was much less. There were small pockets of liquefaction and some cracks in the road. The path and grass verge in Deans Bush had separated. I briefed the staff at Riccarton House about what had happened in town. Five minutes later, I was home. No damage as before. Very grateful for that.

As I write, the aftershocks are coming at 20 minute intervals. Some are small, some aren't. But all put us on edge. And at this stage 65 people have lost their lives. A lot of the heritage of the city is also gone. I spoke to a neighbour and he believed he wouldn't live to see Christchurch recover fully from this. He was also waiting to hear from some former work colleagues at the Press. He's waiting, like many people in Christchurch.