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New Zealand's darkest week
One Irish woman's account.
Christchurch is still reeling from the effects of the 2011 earthquake. A local Tipperary woman gives a personal account of New Zealand’s biggest tragedy:
"It was a day like any other. I had spent the morning rolling cutlery, stocking the wine shelves and assembling the new wine lists in one of the most popular Irish bars in Christchurch. The manager sat in the corner discussing the day-long plans for the approaching St Patricks Day; our biggest day of the year. By dinner time the customer flow was slack, so I went to stand at the front door, see if I could lure any passing trade in. I stood there, watching the workers on their lunchtime, thinking how I needed to take my mate Michelle out for dinner that night for her birthday.
Then everything began to shake. At first it was just a low, steady rumble so I stood my ground, as I had gotten used to doing in the past few months of aftershocks. I waited for it to pass. But it didn’t. Instead it grew louder and heavier; as if the entire street was on a spin cycle. I knew then I needed to get away from the building, so I ran towards the outdoor benches. The force was so strong that I got thrown from my feet. As I pulled myself up I heard a horrific noise. I spun around just as a shop across from me fell in on itself. This was definitely different to anything we had before. I stood in shock and watched as Cashel St became enveloped in dust.
As the buildings came down, and the walking wounded came towards us we began to realise how bad it was, and how much worse it was going to get. We were standing about, trying to make sense of it all, wondering where we should go next when the second one struck. Buildings already destroyed came crashing down further. There was more screaming, even more dust. Thankfully by this time the police were on the streets, ushering us out of the city, clearing the areas so help could get to those who really needed it.
That afternoon I sat on a friend’s back porch, nursing a beer for about three hours, listening to the radio from his housemate’s car, our bodies bracing against each and every aftershock that rumbled through. We had already guessed that there would be some fatalities, but had never imagined that it would be so many. Then again, this earthquake was closer and shallower than last September’s one. It also struck when the city was at its busiest; full of workers, tourists and shoppers.
As for my own personal reality, I realised that I had lost my job and my house and that the only things I now owned were either on my back or in my handbag. I was taken in by a good friend that first night, but even getting to his house was an ordeal. We had to drive in the pitch dark - there were no street lights, no traffic lights, not even light from the houses and shops we passed; and the roads were heavy with silt and dirt. Then the bridge into his suburb was impassable, it had been pushed about a foot up, out of the road, so we had to traverse on foot, using only a small bicycle lamp to pick our steps among the huge cracks in the road. At the other side was a lake we had to walk through, wading in shoes and socks, up to our knees in water, sludge and, I shudder to think, whatever else.
We got through the week by keeping busy. The first day we were busy collecting water. The council had water tankers out in the suburbs by 11 am; however none of them had taps, so we had to seek water elsewhere. The second day was a slow trek through traffic towards Belfast to get food and petrol. The third day we got a huge supply of water and a generator. And so on, just to have basic, everyday living. It really makes you appreciate modern comforts, especially when you have to go out in the garden in the middle of the night to use the long-drop.
It is times like these that you really see the truth of people: the majority of them cannot do enough to help each other; from offering rooms to families without homes; to words of support from the lady working at the local dairy. However there are also those who only want to loot and steal, making a miserable situation all the worse for some people. I strongly support the media who 'name and shame' these louts. Christchurch is a proud city, and will be once again, we don’t need people like them in here.
A week on we are staying strong, despite all the bad news that continues to come from the CBD. Every hour we listen to the news for any valuable update and check websites for information. We still study pictures in the papers, picking out where once favourite pubs and old apartments stood, and what remains of the once familiar streets. Some people have chosen to leave, some never to return.
For those who remain, or who will return, the task of rebuilding the city awaits".
By: Brid Ryan
