Our food was running low and so I decided to brave the drive to the city. It is amazing how well the system is working at clearing up as already rocks that had tumbled in the big quake on Saturday had already been cleared off the road.
I passed cracks in the road, areas where the road raised up like speed bumps, or split in different directions. At the bottom of the pass over the hill to the city a police man waiting. Coming round to my window he told I would have to use another route, the earlier aftershock and sent more rocks tumbling onto the road.
I took the winding detour round to Lyttleton harbor. On one corner a front garden held a pile of newly delivered firewood, while in the backyard scattered bricks were all that remained of the chimney. One older building looked like a jigsaw puzzle with cracks set into its walls. The top of the front wall of another leaned forward, complete cracked off the main building hanging by some unknown force..
Entering the long dark tunnel through the hill my heart quickened a little. This was the last place I wanted to get stuck if there was another aftershock and it was a grateful relief to emerge into the sun at the other end.
I drove down streets that looked unaffected only come across a detour sending me around areas of complete destruction. Homes, small businesses, offices, beautiful old buildings in tatters.
The supermarkets where surprisingly busy with people. Some were in a hurry to shop and go, others stopped in small groups chatting about the experience. “There will be another big one between 7 and 8 any time soon” I heard one person saying to a group of wide eyed listeners. “This isn’t over yet, Im expecting another big one” the manager was telling some workers. I hear similar conversations from other groups dotted about. I get to the checkout and instead of the usual “how’s your day” from the checkout girl it was “how’s your house”.
Going through the whole experience again I feely chatted to this stranger sharing my fears of a Tsunami as we all fled in the early hours. “Oh you would have been OK” the checkout girl informed me “if it had been 30k off shore the wave would of gone out to see not to shore”. I wasn’t convinced by her information; everyone is an expert it seems. I take comfort in the fact that I didn’t over react. All over the city people dwelling by the water bolted for higher ground after the shake. Better safe than sorry and I am not an expert.
As I leave and drive along I notice a corner. An old brick building stands, how I’m not sure, because two side of it have collapsed all over the road. Pulling over and grabbing my camera I stroll over to the ribbons keeping us rubber neckers back. I’m not the only one. A little group huddle quietly chatting and taking pictures. “You know its not over” a slow American drawl cuts through my thoughts. “Oh” I simple reply. I’m not sure I want to keep hearing predictions of another big one but it doesn’t bothered him “yer, I was talking to a building inspector” he continues in a hushed voice as if it was top secret “he says there will be another big one before the weekend. Better make sure your ready” I offer a weak smile in return to his warning and head back to my car all of a sudden wishing I had stayed home.
Ready? Make sure Im ready for what? How come everyone seems to know what is happening except me? Im in limbo I have no idea if its over, will the next one be big or small? Will I need to run for cover or can I just sit still. Will I be watching TV? Sleeping? In the shower? Walking the dog? Will I be with the kids if its big will I be able to get to them? And what exactly can I do? What can I do? As I drive I comfort myself knowing I have just bought enough food that we could survive at home with no shops for a couple of weeks, maybe longer if we aren’t too fussy about having very simple meals. I also got batteries so we can listen to the radio if the power goes out. Ive already packed what is left of my prized pottery collection safety away so it wont smash in aftershocks. I run through plans of safe places at home, planning for anything. Its fruitless really who knows what will happen anyway and I cant predict what I will be doing if it does.
My butcher is a friend. This time last year his shop was in a very old shaky building but it was knocked down and rebuilt. I have to pass that way so I pull in to see him. He is quite a character, butcher by day, and singer by night. He looks up and smiles as I enter, “how are you and your place Anna”. The perfect shop keeper, always a smile and knows his customers by name. “Good, safe, sound, house standing”. I jokingly share the story of my genuine earthquake injury – a bruise on my foot from a falling heater. He shares a similar story. We both share thoughts over how glad we are he wasn’t still in the old building then here it comes. “Hay Anna, there’s gonna be another big one”. Another expert I quietly think to myself, please don’t tell me any more scary stories. “A lady clamming to be a psychic came in early” he continues “she said she didn’t want to scare me but she had a message to say Thursday or Friday there will be another shake bigger than the first”. I quickly buy some stake, wish him a good night sleep and excuse myself. I just want to be home. At home we talk about what has happened but when talking about what may happen its calming not intended to scare each other and put us all on high alert.
I don’t want to go back through the tunnel so I take a detour round the hills to another pass. As a live the city center things look better. The odd chimneys down here or there the only signs anything is wrong.
As I drive along these roads my spirit lifts, I flick on the radio to some music and wind the window down a little letting the fresh air clear my stuffy brain.
Cracks start appearing here and there as I drive, then I pass a large ribboned off sink whole. A feeling of anxiousness returns. I drive through halswell and My heart goes out to these people. I want to stop and help but also just want to get home to my family. My car is directed round massive cracks in the road, going over what feel like speed bumps left by the rippling of the earth. Piles of silt sit outside each house, people walking up and down driveways with wheelbarrows of unwanted silt and sand that bubbled up to the surface as the ground cracked.
I return home so grateful that we are ok, feeling blessed that our home is OK and really feeling for those in worse affected areas. I am very aware of my own anxiety levels I cant even imagine how hard it must be for those in more affected areas.
As dark descends nerves build. I haven’t felt a shock for a couple of hours. I stay up as late as I can reluctant to go to sleep. When I do go I remind myself that its OK, the shakes are meant to get less intense and frequent, I haven’t felt for ages tonight will be ok. I manage to convince myself and my heart drops to a normal rate and I feel myself drifting off to much needed sleep.
I sit bolt up right in bed, the whole house is shaking, I can feel it building. How big this time? I don’t know. Just as Im start to feel really worried it subsides and stops. I check on the kids. Girls are awake but ok. Our son, age 6 however, is sitting bolt up right, looking startled and bewildered. “Where am I mummy, where am I, what’s happening?” I scope this little fellow up in my arms. So brave, insisting its all fun and he is loving the aftershocks in the day reduced back to a scared little child by the darkness of night. He spends the rest of the night sleeping next to me. He feels so safe curled up with his protectors he sleeps though the next big one even though I grab him pulling him into my arms.
The morning brings a sense of relief and some normality and a chance to meet with others to share how are feeling and doing and who woke up to what.
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