Right now and over the coming months, the people of Christchurch need all the support they can get. If you are able, please donate money to the 3 main funds below, if you're in New Zealand you can also donate through your bank or go the Red Cross website for your country and donate there:
Red Cross New Zealand - www.redcross.org.nz
Christchurch Earthquake Appeal - www.christchurchearthquakeappeal.govt.nz
Salvation Army NZ - www.salvationarmy.org.nz
There is also a whole heap of information for donating from within New Zealand on the TVNZ website here: http://tvnz.co.nz/national-news/donate-christchurch-quake-appeals-4038581
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Diary of an Earthquake
This post was started originally as a 'Diary of a Fledgling Student Teacher', to track my progress and thoughts during my 2-week residential course in Christchurch kick-starting my teaching degree. However, a day and a bit into it, the earth shook and, quite frankly, changed my world along with everyone else's who was there. I've tried now to take the time to keep note of my experience of the earthquake and the days that followed.
______________________________
22 Feb 2011
12.30 - The morning's classes were awesome! Really good Q&A session with graduating students followed by an inspiring lecture from our literacy teacher. Lunchtime now and have to also pick up our coursework documents for the coming semester.
12.45 - A bunch of us join te back of the queue for coursework pick up.
12.51 - Angie finds my name on the list and ticks it off. But before she can show me which package is mine, WHACK! A huge bang then a rumble and a roar and everything starts to shake around us. Angie takes complete control. 'Get down! Get near a wall! Hold on to something!' she yells. I glance at Lisa who, like me has grabbed hold of a wheelie bin. Maybe not the best earthquake protection. We let go and get near the wall. People are screaming. It feels worse than any rollercoaster or airplane turbulence I've ever experienced and I never ever want to see the building I'm in be thrown around like that. But it's just an aftershock, right? From the September earthquake? They warned us we might feel one. The building's not actually falling down. Sure, paving tiles outside are jumping up, but it's just an aftershock, right? Mind you, if this is an aftershock, what the hell does a proper earthquake feel like?!
We evacuate. It's raining outside but I've got my big umbrella. We gather in the sports field. Hang on, staff members are sobbing. The Pro-Vice Chancellor tells us to go home, we hear the words 'significant damage to buildings', 'updates on the University website'. I can't get through to Gregg but I've got a frantic voicemail from him. Where is he? I start to worry, and an aftershock hits.
13.15 - I'm not sure I like the idea of walking home alone. A woman going the same direction tells me her colleague was on the 4th floor and had the windows crashing in around him as he ran. I pick up my pace.
13.30 - Phew, Tom's ok. And Gregg's finally got through on the phone and garbled something about Manchester Street trashed and making his way home. But we have no power.
13.37 - The texts from up north start to come through. 'U kids ok?', '6.3 5km deep', 'Steeple down on the cathedral', and more, confusing and conflicting reports. Friends of ours were in the Square but they're ok. Holy hell, this is worse than I thought.
14.50 - A big aftershock. Tom and I decide to take a walk outside. The chimney's twisted and will have to come down. Where on earth is Gregg??
15.00 - I walk out to the road to keep an eye out for Gregg. I don't trust my legs anymore. Is it them that's shaking or the ground? It's both.
17.30 - Gregg's home. He was driving down Manchester Street in the city centre when it hit. The light was changing to amber as he went across an intersection. Next thing all hell broke loose and buildings were falling down around his ears. He watched in the rearview mirror as where he had only been just seconds before became a pile of masonry and rubble with people underneath. A guy in a car further along seems to just have suffered broken ribs but his car is totalled. Gregg helped where he could then started the long drive home through scenes of liquefaction, cracked roads and bridges, destroyed homes and dazed and terrified people. We're lucky to still have him with us.
18.47 - The power's back on. We put the TV back on its stand (it was thrown off in the earthquake) and turn it on for the first images we've seen of what's going on out there. Words can't describe it. And still the aftershocks continue.
23.00 - We've sat watching the news, replying to texts and calls from family and friends all evening and can't take any more of it in. We go to bed fully dressed. I've packed my handbag with all our valuables in the car. We don't expect to get much sleep tonight. We move the bed to the other wall, away from under the window with hairline cracks above it. As we crawl into bed, another aftershock rocks the house.
______________________________
23 Feb 2011
Wanting to help
Sure enough, the aftershocks came thick and fast all night. I woke up just wanting to help, but it was clear only skilled personnel were wanted in the city centre. So we packed up a bag of cuddly toys and children's books and headed to Burnside School, where a welfare and evacuation centre has been set up. The kids' supplies never got used, but Tom's high vis vests did.
I spent most of the day people-herding - essentially customer service. From Burnside, hundreds of out-of-towners were being processed and put into the enormous queue for buses to the airport, where they were put onto Airforce jets to Wellington. I just stood myself at the obvious spot to meet, greet and direct people desperate to get out.
Some particular individuals stick in my mind:
It felt good to be helping. It felt even better to see the incredible sense of community and compassion that seems to happen almost naturally among the people waiting in the queue.
Seeing it
Gregg ended up driving stranded Cantabrians back to their suburb. I went along for a ride and was finally confronted for the first time with the scenes of sheer destruction in their cold reality. Huge sink holes in the road caused by liquefaction, where cars had been nose down in them. Liquefaction looks like small volcanoes of black sand that have erupted out of the ground. Or where it's more sever, the black liquid sand covers everything. Power poles have sunk into it too, bringing overhead cables dangerously low. We saw residents putting hup handwritten 'low wire' warning signs. Other signs were up too: 'Rubberneckers not welcome, go home', 'If you're not here to help, F*** off!'. I felt incredibly uncomfortable being there. You can only drive at a crawl. And seeing houses shaken off their foundations like that... Most houses are still actually standing, but if you look low down at the corners, all the bricks are loose and cracked away from the rest of the structure. It's really brought home how long a path these guys have to go. And how very lucky we are.
Mobile phones
Yesterday really drilled home how utterly dependent we are on mobile phones. Network coverage has only sort of come back fully today and it's such a relief. When the earthquake hit, all I wanted to do was check Gregg was ok, but we just couldn't get through. Texts took an hour to arrive. And then there was no power, so no way of charging them even for text message use. It was scary and isolating.
______________________________
24 Feb 2011
It finally hit me today. I actually really thought I was ok. But someone said something in the wrong way today (not even about the earthquake) and I found myself hiding in the car in floods of tears. Stupid. Irrational. Then I realised what it was really about - the earthquake. I almost lost Gregg. I'm still pretty shaky so it's good we spent most of the day working on Gregg's garden. A great bit of therapy that I expect we'll repeat tomorrow.
______________________________
25 Feb 2011
The news
I'm finding it hard to watch much more of the TV coverage. It's getting difficult to absorb. I also feel guilty for not helping out more, but it's quite clear that they currently have more volunteers than they know what to do with. But I can't shake the guilt feeling. Constantly watching the TV coverage is becoming totally mind-numbing, especially once they've repeated the same information and footage multiple times. Extracting what's actually 'news' is pretty hard. Mayor Bob Parker is impressive though. Apparently he's not hugely liked by all of his colleagues on council, but boy he's one hell of leader in a disaster like this.
17.40 - big aftershock
The aftershocks have actually been dying out where we are. But there was a real big'n just now. We'd just parked up at the supermarket and were still in the car when it hit. It was surreal - it was a damn big one, the car was bouncing around and we could see the windows on the supermarket shaking like anything, but no one seemed to react. No running, no screaming, just carrying on despite what was happening. Weird...
You really don't feel most of the aftershocks if you're moving around, but the big ones you feel regardless.
Block Course
My block course has officially been cancelled. We'll now start thinking about going home. I'm not sure I'm ready to leave, but I'm equally unsure that I'd achieve much by staying.
______________________________
26 Feb 2011
I woke up this morning from the best night's sleep I've had in days and, as far as I'm aware, the first night without tangible wake-me-up aftershocks since Tuesday. Apparently there were a few but I slept right through them. Possibly something to do with the 2 bottles of wine Michelle and I consumed together last night...
We've stopped sleeping fully clothed, and we've started being able to have showers and flush the toilet again. We still have to boil all water, the front door stays unlocked at night and my handbag still lives in the car. Nevertheless, in a home with no damage, with power and water and no loss of life, life really is starting to resemble normality again. The crazy queues at petrol stations are gone. You can find bread, water and toilet paper in the supermarkets again. I know that in other parts of town this is far from the case, but I've also realised it's a human instinct, a basic human need to return to a routine as soon as possible. We can only stay in disaster and survival mode for as long as we absolutely have to, and then we start to move on. It feels weird and I feel a bit guilty about it. But you can see it happening everywhere.
______________________________
28 Feb 2011
It's time to go. Gregg left yesterday and it's my turn today. Air New Zealand have really come to the party to help people out. They've changed the date and destination of my return flight free of charge.
I feel bad going. The Student Volunteer Army are now asking for more volunteers. But I know that the longer I stay, the more strain I put on services that are badly needed by the people who live here. I wouldn't be doing my sanity any favours either by staying and at some point I do need to return to my own reality and get on with it. I'm not from Christchurch, I'm not a true part of this and I don't belong here. It's time to go. But you can bet you'll still be at the forefront of my mind, Christchurch. A fundraiser back home is in the offing, I reckon.
Kia kaha, Christchurch, be strong.
______________________________
22 Feb 2011
12.30 - The morning's classes were awesome! Really good Q&A session with graduating students followed by an inspiring lecture from our literacy teacher. Lunchtime now and have to also pick up our coursework documents for the coming semester.
12.45 - A bunch of us join te back of the queue for coursework pick up.
12.51 - Angie finds my name on the list and ticks it off. But before she can show me which package is mine, WHACK! A huge bang then a rumble and a roar and everything starts to shake around us. Angie takes complete control. 'Get down! Get near a wall! Hold on to something!' she yells. I glance at Lisa who, like me has grabbed hold of a wheelie bin. Maybe not the best earthquake protection. We let go and get near the wall. People are screaming. It feels worse than any rollercoaster or airplane turbulence I've ever experienced and I never ever want to see the building I'm in be thrown around like that. But it's just an aftershock, right? From the September earthquake? They warned us we might feel one. The building's not actually falling down. Sure, paving tiles outside are jumping up, but it's just an aftershock, right? Mind you, if this is an aftershock, what the hell does a proper earthquake feel like?!
We evacuate. It's raining outside but I've got my big umbrella. We gather in the sports field. Hang on, staff members are sobbing. The Pro-Vice Chancellor tells us to go home, we hear the words 'significant damage to buildings', 'updates on the University website'. I can't get through to Gregg but I've got a frantic voicemail from him. Where is he? I start to worry, and an aftershock hits.
13.15 - I'm not sure I like the idea of walking home alone. A woman going the same direction tells me her colleague was on the 4th floor and had the windows crashing in around him as he ran. I pick up my pace.
13.30 - Phew, Tom's ok. And Gregg's finally got through on the phone and garbled something about Manchester Street trashed and making his way home. But we have no power.
13.37 - The texts from up north start to come through. 'U kids ok?', '6.3 5km deep', 'Steeple down on the cathedral', and more, confusing and conflicting reports. Friends of ours were in the Square but they're ok. Holy hell, this is worse than I thought.
14.50 - A big aftershock. Tom and I decide to take a walk outside. The chimney's twisted and will have to come down. Where on earth is Gregg??
15.00 - I walk out to the road to keep an eye out for Gregg. I don't trust my legs anymore. Is it them that's shaking or the ground? It's both.
17.30 - Gregg's home. He was driving down Manchester Street in the city centre when it hit. The light was changing to amber as he went across an intersection. Next thing all hell broke loose and buildings were falling down around his ears. He watched in the rearview mirror as where he had only been just seconds before became a pile of masonry and rubble with people underneath. A guy in a car further along seems to just have suffered broken ribs but his car is totalled. Gregg helped where he could then started the long drive home through scenes of liquefaction, cracked roads and bridges, destroyed homes and dazed and terrified people. We're lucky to still have him with us.
Manchester Street, where Gregg was. He was down by the building with the green scaffolding at the far end.
Image courtesy of the media.
18.47 - The power's back on. We put the TV back on its stand (it was thrown off in the earthquake) and turn it on for the first images we've seen of what's going on out there. Words can't describe it. And still the aftershocks continue.
23.00 - We've sat watching the news, replying to texts and calls from family and friends all evening and can't take any more of it in. We go to bed fully dressed. I've packed my handbag with all our valuables in the car. We don't expect to get much sleep tonight. We move the bed to the other wall, away from under the window with hairline cracks above it. As we crawl into bed, another aftershock rocks the house.
______________________________
23 Feb 2011
Wanting to help
Sure enough, the aftershocks came thick and fast all night. I woke up just wanting to help, but it was clear only skilled personnel were wanted in the city centre. So we packed up a bag of cuddly toys and children's books and headed to Burnside School, where a welfare and evacuation centre has been set up. The kids' supplies never got used, but Tom's high vis vests did.
I spent most of the day people-herding - essentially customer service. From Burnside, hundreds of out-of-towners were being processed and put into the enormous queue for buses to the airport, where they were put onto Airforce jets to Wellington. I just stood myself at the obvious spot to meet, greet and direct people desperate to get out.
Some particular individuals stick in my mind:
- The North American chap so terrified he made me move away from all surrounding buildings before he'd continue; the best I could do for him was give him a big hug before showing him where to register.
- The Swiss girl, one of many who had lost everything when her backpackers collapsed. She was desperate for a change of underwear.
- The American couple who wanted to go to Dunedin, not Welly, and patiently waited for news on this, smiling and chatting away the whole time.
- The heavily pregnant woman who really didn't want to skip the queue, despite her condition.
- The young girls who spent the whole day making sure everyone was well supplied with water and food.
It felt good to be helping. It felt even better to see the incredible sense of community and compassion that seems to happen almost naturally among the people waiting in the queue.
Seeing it
Gregg ended up driving stranded Cantabrians back to their suburb. I went along for a ride and was finally confronted for the first time with the scenes of sheer destruction in their cold reality. Huge sink holes in the road caused by liquefaction, where cars had been nose down in them. Liquefaction looks like small volcanoes of black sand that have erupted out of the ground. Or where it's more sever, the black liquid sand covers everything. Power poles have sunk into it too, bringing overhead cables dangerously low. We saw residents putting hup handwritten 'low wire' warning signs. Other signs were up too: 'Rubberneckers not welcome, go home', 'If you're not here to help, F*** off!'. I felt incredibly uncomfortable being there. You can only drive at a crawl. And seeing houses shaken off their foundations like that... Most houses are still actually standing, but if you look low down at the corners, all the bricks are loose and cracked away from the rest of the structure. It's really brought home how long a path these guys have to go. And how very lucky we are.
Liquefaction in Christchurch.
Image courtesy of 3news.co.nz
Mobile phones
Yesterday really drilled home how utterly dependent we are on mobile phones. Network coverage has only sort of come back fully today and it's such a relief. When the earthquake hit, all I wanted to do was check Gregg was ok, but we just couldn't get through. Texts took an hour to arrive. And then there was no power, so no way of charging them even for text message use. It was scary and isolating.
______________________________
24 Feb 2011
It finally hit me today. I actually really thought I was ok. But someone said something in the wrong way today (not even about the earthquake) and I found myself hiding in the car in floods of tears. Stupid. Irrational. Then I realised what it was really about - the earthquake. I almost lost Gregg. I'm still pretty shaky so it's good we spent most of the day working on Gregg's garden. A great bit of therapy that I expect we'll repeat tomorrow.
______________________________
25 Feb 2011
The news
I'm finding it hard to watch much more of the TV coverage. It's getting difficult to absorb. I also feel guilty for not helping out more, but it's quite clear that they currently have more volunteers than they know what to do with. But I can't shake the guilt feeling. Constantly watching the TV coverage is becoming totally mind-numbing, especially once they've repeated the same information and footage multiple times. Extracting what's actually 'news' is pretty hard. Mayor Bob Parker is impressive though. Apparently he's not hugely liked by all of his colleagues on council, but boy he's one hell of leader in a disaster like this.
17.40 - big aftershock
The aftershocks have actually been dying out where we are. But there was a real big'n just now. We'd just parked up at the supermarket and were still in the car when it hit. It was surreal - it was a damn big one, the car was bouncing around and we could see the windows on the supermarket shaking like anything, but no one seemed to react. No running, no screaming, just carrying on despite what was happening. Weird...
You really don't feel most of the aftershocks if you're moving around, but the big ones you feel regardless.
Block Course
My block course has officially been cancelled. We'll now start thinking about going home. I'm not sure I'm ready to leave, but I'm equally unsure that I'd achieve much by staying.
______________________________
26 Feb 2011
I woke up this morning from the best night's sleep I've had in days and, as far as I'm aware, the first night without tangible wake-me-up aftershocks since Tuesday. Apparently there were a few but I slept right through them. Possibly something to do with the 2 bottles of wine Michelle and I consumed together last night...
We've stopped sleeping fully clothed, and we've started being able to have showers and flush the toilet again. We still have to boil all water, the front door stays unlocked at night and my handbag still lives in the car. Nevertheless, in a home with no damage, with power and water and no loss of life, life really is starting to resemble normality again. The crazy queues at petrol stations are gone. You can find bread, water and toilet paper in the supermarkets again. I know that in other parts of town this is far from the case, but I've also realised it's a human instinct, a basic human need to return to a routine as soon as possible. We can only stay in disaster and survival mode for as long as we absolutely have to, and then we start to move on. It feels weird and I feel a bit guilty about it. But you can see it happening everywhere.
______________________________
28 Feb 2011
It's time to go. Gregg left yesterday and it's my turn today. Air New Zealand have really come to the party to help people out. They've changed the date and destination of my return flight free of charge.
I feel bad going. The Student Volunteer Army are now asking for more volunteers. But I know that the longer I stay, the more strain I put on services that are badly needed by the people who live here. I wouldn't be doing my sanity any favours either by staying and at some point I do need to return to my own reality and get on with it. I'm not from Christchurch, I'm not a true part of this and I don't belong here. It's time to go. But you can bet you'll still be at the forefront of my mind, Christchurch. A fundraiser back home is in the offing, I reckon.
Kia kaha, Christchurch, be strong.
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