Right! I suppose that of all the topics that I owe this blog a little something-something on, is this one. Kind of ironic really, since I left South Africa in search of a safer life, and end up at ground zero of arguably the biggest disaster to hit New Zealand ever! For those of you that aren’t familiar with South Africans, they are really weird on the topic of emigration, I suppose it’s a human thing, but there is nothing better for a South African who chose to remain in South Africa than hearing about expats that became victims in their new homes abroad. Nothing better! It is the ultimate proof to them that “everywhere has its problems” and that “South Africa is as safe a place as any”. That aside, here is what I want to say about what happened.
September 4 2010
Our story begins on the morning of September 4 in 2010, about 4am. Residents of Christchurch were woken up with what appeared to be an invisible train de-railing next to your house and rolling over your bedroom. A better description is difficult, because I honestly haven’t felt anything like it. It was dark, unnaturally so, because the entire electricity grid had failed. No street lights, no house lights, nothing, and it was loud. I remember a very interesting moment on this night, I remember standing in the doorway, bracing myself in the frame that was wobbling and shaking, and I thought, “So this is how I go? I hope it doesn’t hurt too much” and that was it. No crying, no prayers, no regrets, just a realization that this was possibly tickets and the hope that it was going to be quick. There were no casualties for Christchurch that day. I remember having a conversation with some friends about how interesting that whole experience was. Living in CHCH between Sep 4 and Feb 22 wasn’t much different to Christchurch, the city stood up very quickly and we all got used to the occasionally large aftershock. They told us it was 7.4, which was then adjusted to 7.3 and I believe that the world now knows it as a 7.1 magnitude quake. By Christmas, Christchurch 7.1 the book was published that showed the heaviest hit areas, and T-shirts were out with slogans “I survived the Christchurch Earthquake” and “CHCH, the city that ROCKS!” We all settled down, because we all clearly won.
February 22 2011
I left my cellphone at home that day, and only realized this at about 9:46am. Before lunch I went back to my place to pick it up. It’s funny, I had absolutely no idea that this would be the last time I saw my place for more than 2 weeks. I made it back with enough time to do a quick lunch with my mates in the other building. I left my 7 story building and went to the 10th floor of a 12 story building (the Radio Network House building). I’ve been asked by various people to recount my version of events in the hours that followed. Many people have very little recollection as adrenaline and fear took over. Christchurch was stuck at 12:57pm as we had just finished lunch and were talking our usual shit. The building felt like it was jumping up and down, and someone screamed for people to get away from the windows. People scattered, the lights tripped, the emergency generators kicked off the fire alarms, and I followed 2 friends to the nearest wall, I was grabbed, and I grabbed someone else passing by we all pushed up against the wall. At this point, I thought I was going to die again, but this time there was a difference, the thing I remember thinking was “Oh f*ck! I don’t want to die working for an insurance company!”
I didn’t die as it turns out. The shaking stopped and I looked out the window and the city was dark with dust and smoke, and I knew instantly that this time, we weren’t lucky, this time people were lost.
The flight of stairs zoomed past as ran down them and out. The streets were chaos. Bricks and flattened cars, facades of buildings had fallen down, buildings had pancaked, fires had broken out, and people asked (more in disbelief) “Is there anyone inside?” I must’ve heard that question more than 50 times that day, I didn’t hear anyone answer. We settled in Latimer square, which is just outside my work buildings. The square was filling up with people, injured, scared, and confused. We were eventually dismissed and told to go home. I couldn’t, since I had left my car keys in a building that I wouldn’t be allowed access to. Even if I had my keys, what I didn’t know is that the roads were gone, and I could not reach my suburb even if I had a car… I’d need a boat.
Walking to my mates place
People were helping each other, and people did what they could to help people out from under rubble or out of cars. Christchurch is reclaimed land. Not in a political sense, but in geological terms, it used to be swamp and before that it used to be shallow ocean. When the earth shakes it forces water from deep in the earth to the surface, and with it comes kilotons of silt and mud. This phenomena is known as “liquifaction” but the locals call it “liqui-fuck-tion”. I did not know it, but I would spend the next 2 weeks developing an intimate knowledge of the grey mud that used to be beneath Christchurch.

The walk out of town

little liqui-lumps everywhere

used to be gutter here on the curb of the sidewalk

Mud and grass, cleaning up the mud
Scott on the left and Glenn on the right. I stayed at Scott’s place for the 2 weeks. Where they are standing, we had to remove the fence to help the neighbors get all the mud out of their house. Basically, about half a meter of mud covered this suburb, and we had to dump it on the side walk for the trucks to pick up.

Getting into it, a lighter moment
Now what was good was the support we got from the surrounding areas in Canterbury. People came from all over to help dig this mud out, we had a garden full of students and farmers from everywhere bucketing mud and water into wheelbarrows and carting them back and forth. Everyone got into it. TVs and Radios were left on to get the latest instructions and news from officials, and ever so often there was a knock at the door and someone offering help, food, blankets, water, and just a talk. People dropped off spades and other tools without being asked, and I found myself in a strange world of something called “a community”. I got to learn something new about Kiwis, and I couldn’t really explain it to them. We’ve had a serious quake, all the police and military are busy in town, there is no electricity, and people are helping each other out, in each other’s houses, cooking dinner and lunch for each other, bringing over coffee. It was like being in Pleasantville part 2! I found myself actually getting a bit annoyed with all the help that was offered. I just wanted 1 daylight hour to pass without somebody popping in to drop off muffins and sandwiches! The streets were finally drained enough to get home, and this sight greeted me:

My kitchen caught the damage
The force of the quake knocked open my drawers… which saved my alcohol from hitting the floor. The fridge stank of defrosted and rotting meats and veg, and the floor was a lovely mix of broken glass, sauces, oils and a broken jar of honey. There is something severely not great about cleaning up mushy-broken-sticky-glass. 7 months on, we still aren’t able to walk the whole city, buildings are still being demolished. This picture below is of latimer square, standing on Gloucester street looking west.

7 months on
The block to the right used to be covered in buildings. They’re gone. To my left across the park is my work building… since I took this picture, that building has been demolished. It’s a strange picture for me to look at. Town is still ghostly silent and I have moments where it still hits me. The movie of these events is hitting cinemas soon. I won’t review it, as I’d be a little subjective I think. So there it is. Will I leave Christchurch? They say the city is going to take 10-15 years to be rebuilt, does the prospect of spending my 30s in rubble city appeal to me? Probably not, but I feel I am now more a part of Christchurch than I’ve ever been. I will examine my position over some new year’s beers and consider all my options.