Talk:Hope and Wire

I was there for the big quakes, both the first one on September 4, 2010 and the unforgettable one on February 22, 2011 and this was a hard watch for me, but felt I just had to. The first one hit, like a bolt out of the blue in the small hours of that Spring Saturday morning. I'd put on a dvd to watch that previous evening and fallen asleep on the couch. I couldn't believe it, and I was certain that it would be a birthday my then 70 year old aunt would never forget either. The shakes continued during the day and following weeks, but lessened as time went on. I was born in the city and spent most of my adult life there, and was saddened to see the damage inflicted on our beautiful old buildings, many of which had been there since the first settlers arrived in the late 1800s.

Nobody ever expected Christchurch to be hit by a quake with such force as it did. Of course, we all knew, (those of us that had lived there for many years) that the South Island was home to the Alpine faultline, running along the middle of the island, from North to South. But if anywhere was likely to shake, it was thought to be Wellington, our capital city at the bottom of the North Island, which is built on hills and supposedly used to 'small shakes' every now and then. This quake was situated on a new, previously undiscovered faultline, later to become known as the 'Greendale faultline'. Christchurch, home to just under 400,000 people was relatively flat. The fact that nobody was killed during this first tremor, was considered a miracle by many. Little did we know what lay ahead, just a mere five months and 18 days later.

When the big one hit on February 22nd, I was working in a two storey office on the north-eastern side of the city in one of the outer suburbs. Luckily, not one of us was seriously hurt or injured, though our building sustained damage to the foundations and sewerage system and was later demolished. After everyone was accounted for, I then began my journey home, my first thought being of my elderly aunt, aged 77, who, much like Dotty in this series, lived alone and was very independant and strong-willed. What would normally take me 15 minutes home, turned into a 2 hour journey as traffic backed up along my normal route, and the local bridge I'd been accustomed to using daily was impassable. As I neared my aunt's place (who was only 5 mins drive from my home), I watched sadly in my car, as I saw a family retrieve what possessions they could from their home. It was a two storey bungalow, and the bottom floor to the right had collapsed and a man was passing things out to the family on the grass in front, while their dog was going ballistic and one of the children was trying to calm it down. My heart ached for them, but even then I could not have anticipated what was to come. My aunt, though shaken was fine. I had been unable to reach her, as the phone lines were overloaded, as you would expect. We had no power or water but after experiencing the September quake, she had been well prepared for another with her first aid kit and 'survival kit' on hand as advised by our national 'Civil Defence' organisation.

After making sure she was okay, I then left on foot for my home (my car was low on gas and felt more comfortable leaving at my aunt's place (just across the road from a petrol station, most stations being closed by now). I was relieved to find only minor damage - cracks in the foundations and brickwork (the latter of which was later replaced). Still the constant tremors shook me both physically and mentally, and with an upcoming flight to Auckland, booked some days ago for a job interview the next day, I decided to pack for a few days (rather than the overnight originally planned), and head to my parents who also not lived far away. What a sight I must have looked, carring both my laptop bag, handbag and wheeling my suitcase along the main road, trying to avoid the liquefaction (mud) as many were driving in the opposite direction home out to the eastern suburbs, where the residential suburbs were hit hardest. I did get some sympathy as one lady, stopped to give me a ride the rest of the way, although it would have been only another 10 mins walk. I was overjoyed to find my parents were ok and had made it home safely. With no power and limited water we had a bbq dinner, though I could barely stand to eat anything and the constant rumbles underneath (although seemingly lighter in my parents wooden house, compared to my brick flat (single storey apartment), didn't help my already shattered nerves.

We heard from the rest of our family over the course of the evening that they were all ok. When the power came back on around 10pm that evening, only then did we learn the full extent of what had happened in town (the CBD area). I got a call shortly after from a friend, and was shocked to learn that not only had another mutual friend had been buried under a rockfall out in a seaside suburb on the eastern side of the city, but her niece's partner, aged just 22 had been killed in the centre of town, where he had been working in a local bar, leaving behind two little children under 5. Later he was deemed a hero, as he'd put himself in harms way to save his sister, that had been working with him in the same bar. I felt overwhelmingly guilty for my earlier complaining to my folks. What right did I have to complain when others had lost so much? The graphic images replayed in this tv series, of the two sites where my friends had died, just stabbed like a knife. I couldn't begin to imagine how our mutual friend was feeling, having lost her husband of 20+ years and my other friend, her partner and kids, also receiving this double-whammy. I made it to Auckland the next day, thanks to my parents and spent a week there - my workplace was now being assessed and unlikely to be back up and running, and I used the time to not only go for the original interview, but to scout for other jobs there, as I'd had enough of the shakes and the uncertainty. How would we know if worse was to come? I just knew I didn't want to keep living on tenterhooks. Our whole way of life had changed, and having to adjust to a different way of doing things in case of other quakes, including the chemical toilets, was hard. Yet in other parts of the city where only minimal damage to homes had occurred, it was as though life was almost normal. But it would be far from that for many people who had lost homes, loved ones and even their jobs, for many years. Even three years later, the battles still continue with the fights between people, the EQC (Earthquake Commission) and their insurance companies, over properties, with many living in close to third-world conditions.

As the weeks passed we learnt of more casualties, my parents lost a friend from their church community, who had been working in the Pyne Gould Guinness (PGC) building, one of two that were the worst hit with multiple fatalities (the other being the Canterbury Television building). Like many others in homes deemed unsafe, the tenants in my sister's house (she lives in Australia) on the fringe of the inner city's four avenues had been given 2 hours to collect their possessions and leave - brickwork on the exterior bedroom wall had collapsed leaving a gaping hole. With a small city like this, it was virtually impossible to meet someone who didn't know someone who had been either injured or was one of the 185 people killed in this tragedy.

When I went home to Christchurch for Christmas in December 2013, I visited my old childhood neighbourhood in the eastern suburbs, now part of the 'red zone' (earmarked for demolition). I was overcome with emotion as I saw what this once beautiful, peaceful suburb bounded by the Avon river had been reduced to. So many homes abandoned, windows boarded up, much like a ghetto, now rough roads with great potholes throughout the suburb's loop. My childhood home had been demolished, leaving just an empty section and regrettably I wished that I'd gone sooner to see what mark the quake had left on it. I recalled the many happy years we'd spent in that neighbourhood and of the other homes we'd pass regularly on our way to school, all beaten by the destruction of these quakes. The local church and primary (elementary) school I'd attended nearly 20 years before were badly hit and the church itself which had been frequented by my family for many years even before I was born, had to be demolished. I had hoped to eventually buy a home in this area, but not now. The buildings may have gone, but not my memories.

I made the move north to Auckland in April 2011, just two months after the quake, once I'd secured a job here. There are many that still live there because they choose to, showing the typical tough Cantabrian spirit and others that want to leave but can't for whatever reason. Most of my family still remain there (my parents included), some live up here. While Christchurch will always be home to me, I'm glad I made the move and I don't regret it. It is only an hour's plane ride back down there, easy enough to keep in touch with family and friends who have chosen to stay. I have a job I love and a fresh vibrant city to live in, where there is always something happening and I've done a whole lot of things I probably never would have done, had I stayed in Chch (including climbing the Auckland Harbour Bridge!) Next on the list - the 'Sky Walk' on the exterior of Auckland's 'Sky Tower' - a popular attraction for many tourists. I will never forget that fateful day and I know that Christchurch, coined 'the Garden City' and 'most English of all cities outside England', can and will be beautiful again, it will just take some years. As any Cantabrian will tell you, we are strong people and will rise above this and carry on. Kia Kaha Christchurch xxx

Alcatel (talk) 04:33, 19 July 2014 (CDT)