Still Quaking.

By Elizabeth Brooke-Carr in Articles

Elizabeth considers the reality of the Canterbury earthquake

Still Quaking

On Saturday morning, September 4th, 2010, I was woken at 4.37 am by a veritable orchestra playing in the upstairs bedroom of our old, wooden house. Although the music was soft and the movement swaying and gentle, I snapped wide awake. My bed was trembling beneath me, the bed lamps tapped their shades against the wall, books jiggled on the side table, jewellery in the crystal dish on the tallboy tinkled rhythmically, a timpani of coat-hangers jangled on the rail in the wardrobe, and the ceiling light swung like a conductor's baton. By the time I realised that I should have been on my feet under the doorframe, or sheltering under a solid table, the 'quake was over, leaving elevated pulse rates but no damage in our Dunedin household.

Christchurch, I learned afterwards, was not so lucky. There, and in the surrounding countryside, the 7.1 magnitude earthquake has created serious destruction. And immeasurable anxiety. Large and numerous aftershocks have continued - in the following three days over one-hundred-and-twenty 'quakes have been recorded some as big as 5.4 on the Richter scale - adding to the nervous tension in the community.

In Old Testament times when the earth shook it was perceived as God's wrath being vented on His people, usually as punishment for their sins. These days it is more likely that Mother Nature gets the blame, her actions seen as random and capricious rather than vindictive. But my resident geologist claims he has a wiser and more enlightened tradition to draw from, based on the action of tectonic plates. He explained how a fault line on the Pacific plate, where Canterbury sits, is slipping slowly underneath the Australian plate, forcing the Southern Alps up into the air. However, he added, the Christchurch 'quake was a previously unidentified fault, not on the Alpine fault line. Its rupture caused a four metre wide displacement many kilometres long. The lateral movement was not surprising but the location, about 30km to the west of Christchurch was.

Miraculously no one was killed. With only two or three people seriously injured, Christchurch has been spared an even worse tragedy. Following the initial shock and adrenalin surge our Cantabrian neighbours are now bracing themselves to face the aftermath; a few with injuries, most with deep exhaustion, on-going trauma and the sense of helplessness that ensues following serious loss and damage to property, and to the infrastructure that sustains them. Curfews, closed schools, lack of clean water, and fear of sewage contamination are further complications.

There are amazing stories of near-misses from people woken in the nick of time from beds that now contain heaps of brick and rubble, and one from a traumatised woman who sank to her neck in slurry, and managed to haul herself out by grabbing at nearby fence palings. There is an eerie tale told by a man staying in a central city hotel, who heard the Cathedral bells, set in motion by the initial jolt, continuing to sound for about six or seven minutes at the peak of the 'quake's activity. These stories are set in a bizarre landscape of ruptured pavement, undermined sports grounds, deep fissures in the countryside - some wide enough for curious youngsters to drop into and explore, and warnings of more sinkholes suddenly appearing in streets and roadways already cracked and gaping.

On the one hand it is all very surreal. On the other it is profoundly real.

Perhaps our Old Testament ancestors would still have been on their knees, in these circumstances, interceding to their Creator. But our knowledge and understanding of how we connect with the ineffable power of creation has changed.

It is the untiring actions of people on their feet who will save the day. Those who are checking the safety of buildings, the Urban Search And Rescue dog handler with her sniffer dog, the providers of immediate welfare for people whose homes are uninhabitable, the teams of people making security checks or cleaning up the mess, those who listen to the stories and set about rebuilding hope, and others who tackle repairs to the infrastructure - these are just some of the people who intercede for a shattered community. Their task is a formidable one. The process of maintaining social cohesion and bringing about restoration will be arduous and lengthy.

As the aftershocks continue in Canterbury a new rhythm has struck up. The music of resilience has a strong beat led by the boom of a crane, the rumble of falling bricks and the reverberations of a staunch community rolling up their sleeves.

But for some people the quivering strings of fear and trauma continue to play a grim counterpoint. For them the earth may not feel solid, ever after.

-- Elizabeth Brooke-Carr

This item was first printed as a Connections article in the Parish Weekly Bulletin, September 12, 2010.