Christchurch Quake February 2011 - the second week

One week on – It’s not all bad!
Last week I wrote about my initial experience of the Christchurch earthquake. It is now Sunday again and I am keen to tell about what life is like for us now.

Two worlds
In Christchurch there are two worlds. There is the world in the west and north of the city, which the earthquake has mainly touched indirectly this time. People may have lost power for a while, or not. There is a little bit of silt brought up by liquefaction. A few ornaments may have fallen.  So, unless friends or family have been affected, life is bizarrely normal, routinely interspersed with aftershocks (Aftershocks are pretty much normal in Christchurch since 4 September). It is beautiful. The trees , which make our city so park-like, are just starting to turn to their autumn hues. The children are playing with their friends and wanting to get back to school.

On Tuesday Mark and I went to the Bush Inn Countdown Supermarket. I walked into the produce department, and the tears started welling up. It was so ordinary it messed with my head. How could life be like that, when a few kilometres away it was so different? So we bought nappies and sanitary supplies along with our regular groceries to take to a refuge centre and drove home eastward to the edge of the disaster area.

Then there is the east. As I write, most houses have regained power, and many have water, though it has to be boiled before drinking. But the dusty streets are dotted with Portaloos, and individual houses are being given chemical toilet kits delivered by the army. Many roads are almost impassable, and an off-road vehicle is a definite advantage. Many houses are empty, as families have left dangerous homes and are staying with family and friends or have gone further afield to escape it all for a while and get their children back into school. Most of the eastern suburbs are also the poorer suburbs, with many families already struggling to get by.

Earthquake brain
I have identified a new psychological phenomenon in myself and others around me. It is called “earthquake brain”.  Earthquake brain means that you take at least four times as long to do any task as you would normally take, if you do manage to complete at all, having been distracted so many times. It was my excuse when I had to ask multiple times for the street number when driving counsellors around Avondale on Saturday. It is why I totally failed to respond to a request made a week ago to report back on someone, and could barely remember having read it in the first time. It is why I don’t make connections anymore – forgetting that having my licence trapped in my “red-stickered” building would not make it easy to drive a rental car. It’s why even having lists doesn’t really help me keep up – I forget to read the lists. I’m sure there is a technical term for it, and I have observed it in others. But earthquake brain will do for me.

Home-baking
I have discovered the power of home-baking. One of my favourite (and somewhat secret) hobbies is baking, but my ongoing quest to control my waistline has meant I have had to deny myself that particular activity. But I discovered the “Canterbury Baking Army” on Facebook and thought – this is a way I can help, and have fun as well.  People offering to bake for us from out of town were missing the point a little. We WANT to bake. It is not a chore. I made chocolate chip cookies, then smiley-face cookies and later the family heirloom fruitloaf. I have given my baking to family and friends, to an Australian policeman and a NZ soldier, and to total strangers. No that’s wrong – there are no total strangers in Christchurch any more. To people I had never met, and will probably never meet again, but with whom I shared a moment.

Let me tell you the story of that encounter. I was rung and asked to check out an older lady who had a concerned friend in Hamilton. She had not been able to contact her and was understandably worried. I took some fruit loaf and set off. The house itself was empty, though items standing on the kitchen table indicated that it was not empty at the time of the quake. The house to the right was also empty, and a very skinny cat came to talk to me. I broke off a piece of loaf for it, but it was not to the cat’s liking. At the house to the left the occupiers invited me in to give me the phone-number for the lady I was looking for, who was now in a retirement home. Their living area had impressive cracks right down the plaster walls. “Oooh I like your cracks”, I commented, and that broke the ice. We talked about the state of their house, and my house and liquefaction, when the power and water came on and I told them about the skinny cat. They told me his owners would be back soon and he was just old. Then I offered my loaf. Her eyes lit up and she hugged me and we parted. I went home with a big smile on my face. What a privilege it is to connect with people, even in such a small way. When I got home I was able to put the Hamilton friend’s mind at rest. Mission accomplished. I have never thought myself good at serving others, feeling awkward and not particularly warm, but I was able to do this.
So I will keep baking when I can and giving it to people. Mark says it helps that it is really yummy.

Red Stickers
My office is in a building that has been red-stickered. This is another term that all Christchurch people know about. We talk about liquefaction and red-stickers, and estimate after-shock magnitudes with alarming accuracy. A red-sticker means that you may not even enter the building to get things out. It does not mean a building will be demolished, necessarily, and ours will not be. I have been assured that my handbag, with credit cards and pen-drives will be retrieved before we leave for my son’s wedding in the US in a few weeks. We are being asked to recommence the University teaching from home. This is not too difficult for my main course as it is mostly taught on-line anyway. Some of my students have started already, with my encouragement. But for some of my colleagues this will be very difficult.

Rain and wind
Today it is raining. The weather in Christchurch has not been on our side, sending hot winds to blow up the tonnes of silt brought out of the ground through the liquefaction process. This silt is almost as fine as dust, and covers everything and gets into my lungs and hurts my throat. For many it is causing respiratory problems, so volunteers wear masks, and give them out to the public. Thus the rain is helpful for keeping down the dust, but it may also be loosening rocks even further, causing concern in the hill suburbs.

It's not all bad
There is a phenomenon I am struggling to identify, that I am almost reluctant to put on paper. It is almost the opposite of the comfort guilt I spoke of in the previous post. I am glad that I am here. There. I’ve said it. I feel sorry for people who left and have missed out on the experience. It IS easy for me to say, as we were not without power and water for long. I am sure there are many people for whom life is dire right now. However I met with four other women from my church yesterday. All of them are in very difficult circumstances. At the time I saw them, none had had electricity for ten days, or water or sewerage. The house of one of them had broken in three and she talked about trying to chisel the egg/flour/sugar mess that had concreted onto the floor. Yet there was not an ounce of self-pity. We shared stories and laughed and they gave me a hard time for not bringing them any loaf. The purpose of the meeting was to organise for all the women in the congregation to be contacted by one of us at least every two days, and report back any concerns to our leader, Jacquie. One of them came over for a shower later in the evening. These are precious moments. This is an opportunity to work together and love each other and help others.

The earlier part of the day I was involved with Operation Suburb. My job was to drive a "Flying Squad" of counsellors out to people who had been identified as in need by the door-to-door teams. I got to drive a Ford Territory, and use my local knowledge of road closures to advantage, and spend time with some very good people. That was a good experience.

And through all this I feel an abiding and almost overwhelming love for the city itself. Christchurch is like a hurt child, who needs comfort and healing. The heart of Christchurch is deeply hurt, with many, many buildings to come down, and much built heritage to be destroyed. The very happy news that no-one died in the Cathedral has been a source of relief to many as it had been estimated that up to 22 people might have been crushed by the falling tower and walls. There is still a great deal to be done before life can return to the centre. It will take months.

But we can have a new heritage. Our beautiful city will be rebuilt. There is hope of a new, world-leading approach using wood, and modern building techniques that will be safe. Christchurch has faults, as we have sadly discovered, but with determination and love, it will be great again. And the people who were here will be forever connected by this shared experience.