How Will All This Be Remembered?

I was only a wee fella when the two great disasters of 1968 happened. The Wahine sinking and the Inangahua earthquake. I do remember my dad showing me the cracks in the walls following that earthquake, but as I slept through it, I don't remember the quake itself. Those cracks remained in the house for the rest of the time we lived there.

Apart from the odd snowfall and some flooding, the only thing that got close to a disaster for me when growing up was "The Big Blow" of 1 August 1975. I was nine at the time and looking out our window over the road from the petrol station on Riccarton Road (now McDonald's), we saw a boy trying to walk into the wind but not making much progress. Some workmen on the petrol station trying to climb a ladder and after about three rungs, deciding to call it quits. The trees in Deans Bush bending over. Following that there was a torrential downpour but the whole thing was over by mid afternoon.

My children were woken up violently on 4 September 2010 by the 7.1 earthquake. They saw the aftermath and some of the wrecked buildings. They also dashed outside on 26 December 2010 with the infamous Boxing Day earthquake, that although it was only 4.9 on the Richter scale, provided a potent reminder to the danger of localised and shallow events. They will accurately remember the aftershock that shook the car as it stood parked outside Alice's Video. Then there was 22 February 2011.

In the distant years to come, they will relate their own experiences of that day to their descendants. My son will tell about how he was on a chain bridge and he raced to the open field away from the buildings. He will also tell how his cousin, who was also on the chain bridge, stayed where he was; still playing.

My daughter will tell how she dived under her desk as she was having lunch in the classroom. She still had her chocolate chip cookie to go as she was saving it for last. She will also remember how a lot of her friends were petrified by what had happened, but she remained calm.

They may also be able to relate to their descendants my own story of being thrown off my feet and diving under a table. Then emerging to seeing a cloud of dust rising from the city in roughly a grid pattern. Seeing a small girl being carried to hospital by three men. Jumping into the middle of the road when the biggest aftershock happened. Walking through broken and creased roads where the curb was separated from the footpath and silt volcanoes were bubbling up. Of buildings, now just heaps of rubble. No doubt with trapped and dying people inside. Of picking a wee boy up and helping him over a large silt volcano so he could keep up with his mum. The walk across Hagley Park and the wind and drizzle sweeping across, making me wish that I had my jacket instead of a hot chocolate stained shirt.

What I hope my children can tell their own families is this was a point in our city where we made the correct decisions. Where we created a sustainable city. How we honoured our heritage and honoured those that died. Why we are held up as a shining example of rebuilding a city. Why Christchurch is a great place to live.

A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. My very basic knowledge of Charles Dickens finishes at that point. However, since 4 September and more poignantly, since 22 February, this has become the story of Christchurch.

There is a line in Hagley Park where the ground rises. It looks like a hump in the ground except it keeps going to the edge of the park. I'm not sure of terminology, but if you look at Christchurch as a relief map, it looks a little like waves radiating out from the Canterbury Plains. What this means is the Canterbury Plains gradually slope up to the Southern Alps. What is a particularly striking feature of this rise in Hagley Park, is this seems to mark the point where the destruction and liquefaction of the city comes to an abrupt halt. When you enter Hagley Park from the town end, there is masses of silt lying over the fields and two uprooted trees. When you get about halfway across, it looks like nothing has happened.

That doesn't mean there was no liquefaction beyond this point. Around waterways and in small pockets, there is piles of silt, but nowhere the amount that has occurred to the east of this line. It also doesn't mean that everything is 100% to the west of this line. Only 50 metres from the exit at the Riccarton roundabout is a second hand book shop that collapsed and claimed a life.

However when you speak to most people, the damage they have experienced to their homes is nowhere the scale of destruction suffered by people in the eastern suburbs. So while people in Riccarton, most of Fendalton, Burnside, Hornby, Papanui have power, water and most can even flush toilets; people in Aranui, Dallington, Burwood, New Brighton, Bexley and Shirley are lining up in the streets for water, unable to cook and using portaloos.

In fact, it's reached the point where people, like the woman I met while walking the dog tonight, will say "No we're fine. No damage apart from the wall we lost, but nothing compared to people on the east side of the city. Here we are walking our dogs while they hunker down for another night". Most people in western suburbs when you ask, will just say "No damage", and shake their heads in disbelief. People who have lost their houses, might not respond directly but say instead, "We're staying with relatives". Even those who have lost their homes and have only the clothes they stand in, are taking stock, and are thankful they and their family are in one piece.

In this disaster there has been talk about the heroes. There have been tales of ordinary folk throwing aside pieces of masonry to free victims. Firefighters climbing rubble to get to people. Search and rescue crawling through gaps to find survivors. Police and army working tirelessly to ensure people stay safe. The Student Army, the Baking Army, the Rangiora Earthquake Express. I'll add to those, people who have lost their homes and can still smile or even remain positive. They are genuine heroes. Whenever I've heard interviews with these people, the only thing that has annoyed them has been the rubber-neckers - just out for a look around.

I'm not a rubber-necker so I will never venture to the eastern suburbs just to see what has happened. I would go there to help a friend.

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.

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.

Working Late

What dedicated souls some of us are. We come into work early, work through breaks and lunch. And we leave... late. Sometimes we take work home with us too.

Tomorrow I'm working late. Not really because I want to, but because that is the only time I can work late. So while everyone else on the floor is, well, drinking - I will be working. What dedication.

I should really point out that what I'm doing is actually pretty important and can only be done outside of normal working hours. It involves taking down all printing throughout the building, removing and re-installing applications and logging into each printer to make a small change. All going well, I should be done quite quickly as in done by about 8:30. About three hours in other words. And I'm looking forward to it as it's a wee bit of a challenge to do what I have to do in the short time available.

This has involved a lot of steps. Talking to vendors. Working with technical people. Working with project managers. A bit of data analysis. Talking to people. Teeing up "things" to happen. Crossing the i's and dotting the t's. Making sure I understand everything so I can ensure that everyone else understands. Great stuff. Tomorrow I'll probably zip around making sure everyone understands what is going on. I'll brief those who will be affected. I'll tell others what to expect while I'm away for a weeks training. That should be enough to get over any post-quake lethagy.

I have to admit. I don't have a great deal of admiration for those that work extremely long hours unless they are a) setting up a business or b) are working a job as a lifestyle. If they are slaving away just to get ahead, I believe they are setting a bad example. What are they going to do from there and if they have families, are they being sacrifaced just to allow this person to get one step ahead on the ladder?

I'll be content in the fact that work will be printing better because I worked late on a Friday. I hope they appreciate it.

The Earthquake Survival Guide

If you plan having an earthquake, have it at 4:35 in the morning
This will guarantee that most people will be safely tucked up in bed. The likelihood of large numbers of shoppers out on the streets will be eliminated and it's really only a few night owls who most likely will be too drunk to notice the difference.

If you have an earthquake at 4:35 in the morning, make sure your building code is up to scratch
No good having the majority of your population tucked up in bed if the house or abode comes crashing down around their ears. This sort of defeats the purpose of having the population off the streets during the earthquake.

Torches
You can never have too many of them.

Battery Radios
You can never have too many of them

Inverters
Realistically you can only have one, but if you have several cars... Also Subaru's would be good for inverters as they use batteries that could power a small town.

Water
The more the merrier. Keep it fresh as well, so that water that was stored away two years ago, won't be too flash.

Cooking
Barbeque's all of a sudden go from being a luxury to a necessity. Also gas hobs are great. You need not sacrifice that morning coffee.

If the initial earthquake is scary, aftershocks are just plain mean
They keep you awake, they send you scurrying under the doorframe, they damage stuff, they put you on edge, they are unpredictable...

Solar power during power outages
A little untested as the power wasn't off for long enough. The idea of solar power for the hot water is good, but I'm not sure if the pump works of the grid.

Canterbury people are as accurate as quake drums
Taken a bit of practice but we are becoming as good at measuring earthquakes as a quake drum. And it becomes a bit of a competition. Only major failure is everyone SWORE that 5.1 shake was much bigger.

What have we learnt from the last month

Hadn't realised it's been nearly two years since I updated this. Should make a better effort.

Anyway, the last month has been *interesting* for us Cantabrian's. As many people will know, on the 4th of September, most of us were shaken from our beds to the tune of Magnitude 7.1. For me it was a bit of a blur. I was sort of asleep at 4:35, but I wasn't sound asleep as 10 minutes before, one of our cats wanted desperately to go outside. Then my wife decided work was more important than sleeping. So just as I went back to sleep - RUMBLE, then BANG.

I grabbed my dressing gown and attempted to go to our sons room, but I'm pretty sure I was thrown off my feet and found it difficult to get through the door. In fact I have difficulty remembering much as it went on for so long. One thing I was sure of at the time was this was a big one.

I didn't know how big it was. I didn't know where it was. A chilling thought entered my head that hundreds possibly thousands could be dead. By the miracle of timing, no-one died but at the time who knew? I said to my wife that the Alpine fault had ruptured. I had read about it only two days before.

As things settled, I worked out the house was fine and we were safe. Despite the fact the kids both had torches, neither of them had them around at the time, so our daughter got the torch while our son had the iPod screen for light. Aftershocks followed pretty quickly but compared to the main shock, they felt small despite the fact they were in the vicinity of 5.6.

From there I had to find out what was going on. We had a battery radio that was on at the time so we listened to Vicky McKay on National Radio. As the reports started to come in, it seemed to take on a North Island bias. "Sounds like a North Island event rather than a South Island event" was what Vicky said. However, it soon became apparent, it was not only South Island event but a very local event. In fact, very near Charing Cross between State Highway 1 and Darfield. And to Vicky's credit, she was cool and reassuring and slipped into emergency mode without missing a beat.

As the morning progressed, I dared to clean up as much of the broken glass as I could with the light that was available. At this stage, the earthquake was 7.4 and there was widespread destruction whatever that meant. Then there was the Morning Report music on the radio. This must be bad because there is a special Morning Report. Mary Wilson was on and there was a lot more info coming in. Apart from the power not being on, the enormity of what was happening hadn't really dawned on me. The sun started coming up and I ventured out. The neighbours were all fine, but the church around the corner had lost it's cross.

I had been awake for about four hours on this Saturday morning that we would never forget. And there was more to go.