stories from the Christchurch earthquake

Freerange Press is contributing all proceeds from the sale of this book to Architecture for Humanity (AFH). Helping build back Christchurch, AFH are currently working with Unlimited Paenga Tawhiti School. Find more about this project here: http://auckland.architectureforhumanity.org

ONLINE ISBN: 978-0-473-18822-1PRINT ISBN: 978-0-473-18821-4

this is a special edition of freerange, dedicated to all those touched by the quake

CHUR CHUR: stories from the Christchurch earthquakePublished by Freerange Press, June 2011

Edited by Gina Moss Designed by Shakes Cover photos by Tony Brunt

contents

4 Introduction

7 What the Drummer said to the Drum by Gary McCormick

8 Madeleine's Story (part I) by Madeleine Peacock

12 Earthquake Moments by Alison Locke

15 Show Us Your Long Drops

18 Blow Off Valve by Johnny Moore

21 Sienna's Story by Sienna Kahurangi Newbery

22 Madeleine's Story (part II) by Madeleine Peacock

26 Evil Genius by Ben James

33 Lessons from a 6.3 by Tony Brunt

35 Rocky

38 Soft Resilience by Barnaby Bennett

The Earthquake Poem by Gary McCormick

photo: Tony Brunt

On the 22nd February 2011 the people of Christchurch experienced the most destructive earthquake in New Zealand’s young recorded history. It was the third large earthquake to hit the region in six months, the first being a 7.1 earthquake on the 4th September 2010.

At the time of publishing 182 people have died, thousands are homeless, scores of buildings have been destroyed, and the central city is still closed to the public. This special issue of Freerange is a window into the experiences of some who were affected.

Introductionnz daylight time:

Tuesday, February 22 2011 at 12:51 pm

latitude, longitude: 43.60°S, 172.71°E

focal depth: 5 km

richter magnitude: 6.3

region: Canterbury

location: Within 5 km of Lyttelton,

within 5 km of Diamond Harbour,

10 km south-east of Christchurch

photo: Gina Moss

Christchurch is my hometown, when I was 21 I travelled to Perth and then France where I lived for the best part of a year. At the time I was so ready to be away, to experience new places and challenge myself. I remember noting that it took going halfway around the world to really have home pull at my heartstrings, at times I got terribly homesick but the stretch was a good thing, I grew in a way I never would have if I had stayed.

Since then I have lived in Wellington, and then in Melbourne where I am currently based. Right now Christchurch is pulling at my heartstrings again, the earthquake that devastated the city on the 22nd February 2011 has made me homesick and con-fused. It is hard to know what I can do to help from so far away.

I did go back to help. A week after it happened I flew from Ad-elaide, where I had been performing in a show in the Adelaide Fringe Festival, to Christchurch to help my family and see the damage for myself. I went home for a week and stayed at my grandmother’s place inside the cordon. I helped my parents pack up and move out of our yellow stickered family home. I hauled bricks, cleaned up, helped neighbours rescue their belongings from red stickered houses, made dinners by torchlight and lis-tened to people’s stories. It was the right thing to do, I needed to help, to know what had happened, feel the aftershocks and get a glimpse into what my family and friends are living through at the moment.

photo: Michael Moss

The Australian media is no longer reporting about Christchurch, there are other disasters that have eclipsed our one and in many ways that is a good thing. The news we got here was so sensational and intrusive. Every time I turned on the television I had to watch the same images repeated, the same people run-ning from the same buildings as they shook from another aftershock. Oftentimes it didn’t help, it felt like voyeurism and I had to turn it off.

Seeing Christchurch in person was at the same time better and worse than I had im-agined. The scale of damage shocked me, all the roads with such huge cracks and holes in them, the Avon river which has changed its course in some places, the buildings that have been reduced to rubble, the thousands of uninhabitable houses, the dust and liquefac-tion everywhere and all the closed businesses. But I was happy to see how much the place is a hive of activity and how much humour and support people there have for each other. There were contractors everywhere fixing roads and utilities, there were people from Civil Defence, Red Cross, the Council, and other Government agencies all visiting houses to offer support, people were helping their neighbours and strangers alike and there was an overwhelming sense of commitment from everyone to get through this disaster and re-build the city. When I left I felt OK leaving my parents in the care of their neighbours, they live in a beautiful community that has only got stronger since the earthquake.

Nevertheless it was difficult hearing about the situations that people I am close to are living in. Many are still homeless and jobless, and

some have lost loved ones. I can get my head around the physical damage that Christchurch has sustained, but the emotional I find hard to understand. I wish I could assure my friends that it that I will be over soon… but it won’t. I can’t relate to their trauma and shock, to the stress they are living in, and I can’t share their bur-den of a life so changed by one event. But I can listen to their stories and I hope that helps. That is what this special edition of Freerange is about. Let’s listen, it is the least we can do.

Gina Moss Editor June 2011

What the Drummer said to the Drum

By Gary McCormickFebruary 2011

You miserable low life bastard.

We saw you on the fourth of September calling into town on your spineless spine, giving us a flick and looking us over.

It was an earthquake then for the yellow pages. Remember the torch, the bottles of water.

In September you were just the piano player, tinkling the ivories. In moustache. Pretty out there. Eyeing the women on the dancefloor.

Then my o my you waited!

I saw you the other day run up a blind alley full of hatred and dark breath. Black clouds only pity us.

You held us down on the jagged ground. You shook the streets and the city buildings. You tore the spire from the cathedral.

And all those people.

The tourists taking photographs, the babies taken in pairs, the hikers in the hills.

The ones buried beneath us still.

You miserable bastard of a thing!

The time has come.

Said the drummer to the drum.

When I can make no sense of it.

I didn't feel the earthquake, probably one of only four people in Can-terbury who didn't. I was in a car with three workmates driving back from Methven. The first I heard was when my sister sent me a message to ask if I

was OK. The trip back to the city became increasingly sombre as we listened to the radio and desperately tried to contact people. Thankfully we had our satellite phone with us to use.

As we got into the city it became clearer. Traffic was chaotic, and everyday citizens had put on high-viz vests and were directing traffic at major intersections where lights were out—including one lady in her pink shorts with handbag over shoulder! We took a few nifty shortcuts through back streets and the Racecourse.

Three hours later we got to the office and found what looked like a bomb-site. We got out some water and first aid kits then headed home. I went back to Sumner with my boss as I didn't want to drive myself. Most houses had visible damage, there were boulders across roads, people walking, biking, running, hugging, cry-ing. We took the Summit Road home, deserted and eerie. After checking out the boss’ place (and rescuing some important bottles of whiskey!) we went into Sum-ner and I started walking home. This is when the reality slowly started to hit me.

Part One: This is my story

Madeleine's Story

By Madeleine Peacock

photos: Gina Moss

Seeing the cliff that had calved off and crushed the RSA, cracks through roads, buildings barely standing. Walking along the street on my own heading toward my home on the hill, I saw that iconic Shag Rock was just a stump not a pillar. Cliffs all along the way had collapsed with buildings precariously close to the edge. As I got closer to our place I knew something wasn't right. I could see that part of our section —where I used to stand and sit to see Sumner and watch the sea, was gone. Until then it hadn't really occurred to me that I wouldn't have a place to go home to, that I may only have the clothes I was standing in (my work uniform).

Eventually I got to the bottom of our steps, there had been a rock fall over the steps, water and mud was gushing down - it smelt like chlorine; the neighbour’s pool. We'd been out abseiling with clients during the day so I had my tramping boots on and my climbing helmet with me. I put on my helmet. I still feel sick thinking about that walk up the steps. Walking up the 150 steps through gardens and harekeke to my home after work was always a joy; looking down over the Estuary, Redcliffs, Brighton, the city, the Southern Alps. It should have been like any other day. Same place but it couldn’t be more different. It was quiet except for the water. It was very still. No one else was around. Retain-ing walls were buckling. It felt spooky and wrong. I first went to find our landlord who lived in the lower part of the house; it was trashed, I couldn't find him. Looking up to our place I saw broken windows, and I could see the sky through the roof. The attic had obviously fallen through the lounge. The retaining wall that our house was built against was broken and bulging. I knew

photos: Tony Brunt

I couldn't go in and I knew that I'd never live there again, potentially I may not even be able to get my things out. This is when the emptiness entered. What was I going to do? I trekked back down to the road and went to see a friend who lived around the corner. His house was standing but ob-viously damaged and he was gone. I sat down on a bus stop bench to take stock, it's very unusual to ever feel alone, but this is how I felt. I knew in my heart that although I wanted to, if I couldn’t get my things back well that's fine, because all I need I possess within, eve-rything else is replaceable. My phone battery was on 15%, it was starting to spit. I stopped some ladies on bikes and asked for a pen to write down important num-bers. I stuck out my thumb and hitched a ride back toward work so I could get my car and get to a friend's place to stay. I was experi-encing shock. I found my friend who had a safe house and two small children. We cooked dinner on a camp cooker under a fly. We ate

curried sausages with bread and margarine supplemented by champagne supplied by the neighbour. We all had a lot to be thankful for, but a hole was opening up inside of me.

I crawled into bed that night glad to be alive and glad to be safe, but horrified at the turn life had taken for all of us in the space of a day. It was a horrible night, I lay there on my own and I cried lots, snuck a few hours sleep here and there. Aftershocks came through every few minutes. Rumble... Shake. Some more violent than others. I didn't run for the door like I once would've, I was exhausted and didn't really care anymore. It was a nightmare we couldn't escape. I lay awake planning my retrieval mission should I get back into the house; what was my escape plan, what were the really important things, where were they?

In the morning I went home as my flatmate Justin was there (the other flatmate wouldn't go into the house). We talked about our es-cape route and we each had to decide what level of risk we were prepared to take. Justin was great, he's so sensible and measured, I felt safe(er) with him. I felt sick but knew this was my one chance. I climbed in through my bed-room window to a scene of chaos. The plaster on the walls had come off so everything was covered in plaster dust. It only took me about 15-20 minutes to throw everything into packs (of which I have many) and boxes and fire it out the window. Some friends had come to help carry it down through the thick mud to the car. My bedroom was reasonably OK. I got brave and went into the kitchen where Justin was retrieving what he could. I found a

painting my sister had painted, some pottery I got in Jerusalem, all still intact. And some apricot jam I had made—still sealed, “sweet victory” my cousin called it. If we had been in the lounge during the earthquake we would most likely be dead or badly in-jured as we would not have been able to reach the door before the stone chimney and attic came through the ceiling. I can't really describe it anymore than that. I wonder what will happen to our house. I get very sad when I think about these things and I still cry when I think about it. Last night I went to look at some pho-tos of better times, but it's too hard at the moment. I said a sad goodbye to Justin on the street in the mud. You never think life will change like that so quickly, then it does. People I know and love; we wake up together one morning not knowing it would be our last in our beautiful home on the hill. I left Christchurch yesterday with my life in my car and came to Timaru to stay with a friend and her family. They have been very good to me. As for the future, it's one day at a time. Work is closed until at least next week then we'll see what happens. I don’t know where I’ll stay. But I want to be back in Sumner, it just feels like home, it feels normal and familiar which I think is important. We'll see. It's all unknown.

photo: Tony Brunt

The constant telling and re-telling of earthquake stories with friends, family acquaintances and strangers, trying to make sense of it all.

On the day of the quake, realising the seriousness of this one when I try to make my way through town and I’m passed by a van speeding the wrong way along a one way street, a woman passenger bleeding in the front seat.

Racing across town to reach my 91 year old mother in law, I pass a woman who seems to be going the wrong way, against the flow. She is muttering frantically to herself and the phrase that floats across to me as we pass is

“now that’ll have shaken some of those bastards up a bit”. Not sure which bas-tards or why, but shaken they were.

Texting the only game in town: ‘R U OK?’ hundreds of times.

Earthquake Moments

These are the things that have stuck with me from the past few weeks since the earthquake happened. They are anecdotes, moments, thoughts, feelings

and observations about the event and what has followed. So much has changed, remembering these moments helps.

Calls from all round the world, con-necting with concerned family and friends, the joy of having family arriv-ing to help and support.

The first night, almost continuous af-tershocks. I liken it to contractions in labour.

My constant earthquake kit. Cell phone in one pocket, hand sanitiser in the other.

Lining up to refill our gas bottles for free along with 28 others, and then having to jump the queue in order to be home before the cordon closed for the night.

Living inside the inner city cordon for two weeks. Strangely quiet, peaceful and calm —especially after the 6pm curfew—apart from the constant noise of the helicopters in the first days.

By Alison Locke

Double takes as we wander through our neighbourhood and a light ar-moured vehicle rumbles past.

Going to Bunnings every other day and watching my daughter diving headfirst into their dumpster in search of cardboard boxes to pack our lives away into.

The sight of a neighbour’s canna-bis growing operation visible to all passers-by as the walls and roof of the brick building he lived in have fallen away. The police on the adjacent cor-don laughing as they tell us that he tried to get in to rescue it.

Two young soldiers—on patrol in the cordon checking for looters—surprise me, pants nearly down, about to have a pee in the garden.

The passing parade of vehicles across the river: fire engines, police, council trucks, demolition trucks, every kind of tradesman. All with flashing lights on their cars —because they can I suppose.

Farmer Lee from North Loburn, who came in every evening after a day’s work with fresh drinking water for our neighbourhood.

A lunchtime visit from a member of the Student Army, bearing muffins and advice about grants and financial support available to us.

photo: Gina Moss

Andrew, who wasn’t much known in the area, taking on a leadership role that was more visible every day. In the end he came wearing a high-viz vest and carrying a clipboard. We call him the Avon Loop Mayor now.

Two weeks worth of dinners by torch-light, harvesting vegetables from the neighbour's gardens and watering their herbs in their absence.

My husband’s near miss with the cops, as he removes a neighbour’s collection of sculptures from the courtyard of his red-stickered house, and puts them safely in his garage out of the reach of looters and the rumoured wrecking ball.

Every trip out takes many times longer than usual—because of negotiating the roads and because of the time it takes to talk to everyone we pass.

Our friend’s 8 year old son’s descrip-tion of what the earthquake was like. He was at swimming lessons with his school at the time it happened: “I was doing breaststroke which isn’t my best stroke, and then all of a sudden I was swimming really fast. There was a big wave, and then I was swimming on the side of the pool. And then I was back in the pool and then I was out again and a hand came and grabbed me out.”

Our water leak is fixed at 2.30am by a cheerful pair of council staff.

We have a propped wall on the garage. Anybody who’s anybody has a propped wall these days.

Realising that the era of living in the house made of handmade mud bricks is over forever, and happened in a way we never dreamt it would end. The house didn’t fall down but the brick walls have stopped doing their job. Cracked and bulging, they threaten to fall at any moment.

Still haven’t figured it out: how did the feijoa chutney get into every drawer in the kitchen? The welcome help of our son and flatmates cleaning out the hideous mess of food and broken glass and crockery with only cold water.

Dust that never seems to settle.

Role reversal: taking our washing to our son’s house.

Set-up for the day; arriving at work after finding a successful rat run that avoids the worse-than-Auckland traffic.

Weeping at the memorial service through much of the music, especially when Dave Dobbyn begins to play Loyal.

Holding on to a silver lining list, enjoy-ing the new and deepened connections with family, friends and neighbours, thinking ahead to a new and better Christchurch that we all participate in planning and building.

SHOW US YOUR LONG DROPS was set up to showcase all the creative long drops popping up around Christchurch after the earthquake.

From the site: During these tough times it is important to be with friends and family and still be able to have a good laugh. A bit of toilet humour is bound to put a smile on your face even if your having a crappy day!

Check out the rest at http://www.showusyourlongdrop.co.nz/

Show us your long drops

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Bring the country to the city

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Handy pockets and zip-lock doors

Here is an observation i have made. After a massive disas-ter, something goes a bit skew-whiff with your wiring and you find yourself behaving strange. I think all the pressure of the event and the aftermath builds and builds until it needs to find a means of re-

lease. After the last big quake, we met our neighbours for the first time and three days after the event sat down with them to have a glass of wine in the afternoon. Suddenly I was drinking like a teenager and before I knew it we were doing shots with our arms around one-another. Next thing it’s 6pm and I’m black-out drunk. I passed out heavily. I woke up the next morning which meant I hadn’t died in my sleep, and felt like all the stress and fear that I had been feeling had been reset.

I think it’s like when you turn a computer off at the wall when it’s behaving really badly, let the thing reset and you’re fine from there in.

Different people have different ways of blowing-off this tension. I’m told that some people have been doing a lot of rooting, some people sadly smack their wives and children around, but it is something I have noticed. People get a bit primal.

Blow-off valveBy Johnny Moore

This time, my valve has come in a different form to alcohol. After the quake I had no house and my brother-in-law Greg’s bosses Malcolm and Trudy kindly took us in as refugees. Now being a refugee sucks, but it sucks less when the guy who has taken you in has a huge collection of awesome cars and says “take whatever you want for a spin”.

A couple of days into our stay Greg showed up, tears streaming down his face. He had just been told that they had stopped searching for a friend of his. The task was not one of rescue but of recovery of a body. Being a southland farmer, he is uncomfortable about crying and was quite a mess as he apologised for subjecting me to seeing him blub.

“I’ve got just the solution Greg,” I said and we hopped into Malcolm’s Datsun 260z and headed out on the roads behind Ashburton. By the time you’re doing 100mph in an old Datsun it feels like Mach2, and as we flew up the road we hooted and hollered and squealed around corners and changed gear only when we got to the red line. Following this we conducted similar tests in a Triumph TR6 and on a 1949 BSA.

And this was my blow-off valve this time. Driving at speed —a good reminder that you’re still alive. Now I know that the cops have better things to do than mop idiots like me off the road, but it just happened and if we had died, it would have been with grins from ear-to-ear.

So my suggested cure for post traumatic stress is to find whatever it is that really gets your blood pumping and go for it.

I just thought of my blow-off valve theory as I dropped my brother Tim at his mate Adrian’s last night, three bottles of Scrumpy in hand and a maniacal look in his eye.

“Don’t worry about me Johnny, of course I’ll be safe.”

I’m picking him up this afternoon and I suspect his “reset” button will have been pushed.

"there was a storm... saw everything falling down...crumbling... I was really really scared. I don't want anymore earthquakes."

Sienna Kahurangi Newbery 3 years old with help from Amiria Grenell

photos: Tony Brunt

On Wednesday after salvaging most my belongings I escaped the chaos and drove to Timaru. Roads were mostly clear and I joined the thousands on the road of escape. In Timaru I was welcomed into

Tania and Mike’s home. They and their children Cody, Abby and Pippa treated me like one of the family and looked after me just as I needed. I was shell-shocked, tired, dirty and dazed.

Thursday was a day for unpacking, sorting and repacking my things. I was amazed at what I had managed to rescue. It was all covered in plaster dust and some looked a little worse for wear having been flung around the room.

The next couple of days passed in a blur, it was mostly just relaxing with Tania and catching up with a couple of people. I started reading again; books that are easy and in some ways mindless. Some days are better than others. Everyday feels like an emotional roller coaster. I recognise it as classic grief. I know that I have not lost a lot compared to some. I can rebuild. But I also recognise that I have lost something that I valued very highly, a place to be me. A place that I could come home to and just be. There was a certain magic about our house, everyone who has been there will agree. It was on a hill with the most beautiful

Part Two: The journey, post-earthquake

Madeleine's StoryBy Madeleine Peacock

photos: Michael & Gina Moss

views. It was rustic and charming. It was full of creepy crawly insects and lots of spiders, and more recently a family of rats. What I wouldn’t give to be sharing the rats home again. It was where Justin and Jane lived too. The house on Main Road was a place of peaceful retreat.

On Sunday I returned to Christchurch. I had been putting it off because I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I forgot that the journey unfolds as you go; it isn’t always a set of prescribed and predictable steps. I forgot that I’m clever enough to work it out on the run. Coming back in to the city you would be forgiven for thinking only that Christchurch was dusty, not that it was devastated. Fun-damentally the city is damaged, but the damage varies depending on where you go. Last night I visited Justin in Papanui/Riccarton. Streets were mostly fine, power on, restaurants and take out places were open, it seemed like life as normal. But I know that 10 minutes drive away is the CBD that is still like a war zone.

Since the earthquake it seems that we are living life in two worlds at the same time. Sometimes everything seems so normal—the sun shines, the ducks quack, the trucks roll by but at the same time we know it’s not normal.

photo: Tony B

runt

Life has definitely taken on a new look the past week. Should it feel strange to be followed to work by an army tank, soldiers in full kit? Roads that were open when you went in may not be open when you go to leave. Piles of liquefaction (or liquif✳✳✳tion if you’ve spent the last week shovelling it!) on the side of every street.

This morning dawned bright. For me it represented a week since my world got turned upside down along with thousands of other people. I cried my way through breakfast, I cried my way through my packing and I cried my way down the street. I went to visit Jane. We met at a mall that was open and held out as another big aftershock rolled its way through. It was so nice to see her and catch up on where we are both at—geographically, physically and emotionally.

Yesterday we at Full On decided it would be best to go to Auckland for a couple of weeks to get back into work —our head office is there. So this morning, af-ter adventures missing flights and negotiating a dis-aster stressed airport, we temporarily shifted base.

photo: Michael Moss

Emotionally I’m all over the place. I’ve shut the door on memories of life before the earthquake; it’s just too hard at the moment. It seems like a fantastical dream that is too good to be true. Some moments I’m fine, other moments I can’t string a coherent sentence together. I write this now with little feeling, but who knows, I might wake up crying again, feeling at a loss. And I know it’s grief, I know it’s what I have to go through. But I’ve made a few decisions lately. I’ve decided that I like Christchurch. It had definitely grown on me and for now I want to stay. I also choose to believe that the future will be OK, I hope for a time to laugh again, I hope for a place of peace to live again. Now I have to put my head down and pull off a fabulous season at work. I have staff rely-ing on me to do this and I will.

It's helpful to tell our stories and that's mine. I have life and limb and all my loved ones but the emptiness reminds me that I'm human and I need love and support. I know I have that in big measure. Whether we’ve lost a little or a lot the reality is that for each one of us in Christchurch that day, life has changed forever. I will never be the same again. I don’t say that in an airy fairy way, I just know that my heart has been broken in a way I can’t explain and it has affected me at a very basic level.

photos: Tony Brunt

The 4th of September 2010 marks the morning I thought Wel-lington had its BIG earthquake. It was 4.35am and I was asleep. When I felt it my first thought was that if we could feel such a big earthquake down here in Lyttelton then it must be a really big one

up in Wellington.

I stumbled out of bed just keeping balance and climbed under a dining room table with my girlfriend at the time and her family, all the while trying to hide my nethers from prying eyes. At one point I felt so squished and nauseated that I exited the table during the shakes to get outside for fresh air.

I could hear crying and screams from inside, and heard my girlfriend shout “are the UFO's coming?” I laughed and stood in amazement on the deck look-ing up at stars, the kind of stars you can only see in a location with absolutely no light pollution. Power was out and things seemed peaceful apart from the continued shaking and the thumping of my heart as the shock sunk in.

I noticed people venture out and walk around outside with torches and hand-held radio's trying to get radio reception to hear the news. I settled myself and went back inside, then headed back to bed to doze through the thick and steady aftershocks. I awoke in the morning to ring my friend and bass player Tim who was also in Lyttelton at the time. Our band Spartacus R had played the night of the quake at the Wunderbar and I wanted to ask if he had heard from his girlfriend in Wellington. He replied telling me “nothing happened in Wellyz, I'm pretty sure it was Christchurch”. We got the band together and found our gear unharmed even though the Wunderbar had collapsed in on itself.

Evil Genius

By Benjamin James

So much happened after the 4th. That same day Spartacus R had an amazing gig at the Coffee Company. One that was almost cancelled but as the Lyttelton community does, we pulled together enough to put on an amazing night, giving us all a chance to forget, just for one evening.

That quake passed and lives carried on, people felt safe, well the majority did. Some people held onto feelings of fear from experiencing something so big, from surviving a quake that took no lives. I remember seeing an American tourist get off the ferry to Diamond harbour with a T-Shirt reading “I survived the big one!! 4.09.10”.

I carried on with my life in Lyttelton as my friends went back to Wellington. I felt safe and happy to continue with the amazing times I was having in such a lovely location. I watched the media feast on the damage of brick buildings in town, the sto-ries of escapes from death and the happy public conclusion that 4.35am was the perfect time for a quake to happen because it resulted in no deaths.

Over the summer I got together with two talented friends in Lyttelton to start my very first business. Evil Genius took a slow month to create. The store would sell rare records, CD's, limited run T-shirt designs and customized toys. We opened the store on the 17th Feb 2011. We had a grand opening with musicians Ryan Prebble, Delaney Davidson, The Corpse Surfing Ghost of Tapeman, Bad Evil

photo: Tony Brunt

and last but not least Masters of Our Universe. By this stage a quake was right at the back of our minds, we still had the occasional aftershock big enough to bat an eyelash at but things seemed to have settled. We had a great opening day’s trade and closed with pride and the security of a new working business.

I had the day off on the 22nd of Feb and my friend and business partner Oscar was working. I had a lot to do at home, housework and the likes had fallen behind because of the time put into my new business.

As I brushed my teeth after lunch I heard a low rumble, I didn't click as to what was coming until I was on the floor. This one was vicious, it’s all a bit of a blur but the contents of the house went everywhere. I live in a well-built modern wooden home in Diamond Harbour, and even there it felt as though the house was dancing on top of its piles. Everyone in the house ran out front and I watched my flatmate’s

the press, 17 february 2011

4x4 jiggle around as though it was on a suspension test. Dogs ran around barking and sirens went off. We looked over the harbour to Lyttelton and saw a cloud of dust. We witnessed landslides on Sumner Rd tumble down the cliff, over the road and into the ocean. Then it calmed down. We walked up our street to check on things, water tanks had fallen off roofs and pipes under the road had cracked but apart from that Dia-mond Harbour survived this quake rather unharmed.

As soon as I had a moment to think my heart sunk; this quake was so strong and had struck at 12.51pm. Town would have been busy and people would have been at work. I looked at the cloud of dust in Lyttelton and thought of my new business and of Oscar inside. We listened to the radio and reports slowly come in of a big earthquake in Canterbury centred in Lyttelton. My partner and I immediately jumped in the car to check out Lyttelton, the community, her house and my business.

We drove around the harbour dodging rocks, traffic, peo-ple and cracks to finally arrive in Lyttelton. It was like a war zone; huge retaining walls had spewed onto the road, anything brick had fallen and had landed on cars, roads and other houses. My girlfriend went to check on her house and I walked down London street towards my shop. People I knew were all on the street. I looked at them and said hello, but from most there was no response, they were very different souls from a deep shock. I knew I shouldn't be on London street. My favourite café the Coffee Company was looking like a card house about to fall, and bricks and mortar filled the street.

My shop is up an alleyway which, when I got to it, was half a metre high blocked with red brick. I climbed over and into my open store. I had no insurance so was happy to see that the ceiling had not caved in, though there were records eve-rywhere. No one was in the store so I grabbed the cash box and closed the door behind me. I walked back over the bricks and out onto the street just as another violent aftershock happened, sending the parapets of more buildings crashing

down and everyone on the street running for the centre of the road. A guy in military uniform clipped me on the back of the head. “You're a fucking idiot mate” “Calm down!” I said. “What?! You wanna be the next fool at the bottom of a pile of bricks?” I kept on walking. He was right, going into the shop was a bad move but I was alive.

I met Oscar as I turned right off London street onto Oxford. Buildings that were red stickered in the first quake had spilt their guts all over the road. He had a crate of beers that had rolled out of the bar he owned (El Santo has since been red stickered and will be demolished) so we had a beer and talked. He told me that he was in the store when it hit, he and the telecom guy connecting our eftpos system ran out the door as bricks fell all around them.

photo: Tony Brunt

Since the 22nd the death toll in Lyttelton stands at 6. The death toll in Christchurch has reached over 180. I haven't seen any T-Shirts reading “I Survived No.2!! 22.02.11”. Lyttelton now only has one dairy, one bottle store, a fancy fish and chip store and the Cof-fee Company is operating from a stall out the front of the closed library. Lyttelton alone stands to lose 75% of its central buildings.

In Christchurch central the damage is everywhere. Every cliff in Sumner has avalanched down, roads have split, bridges have bent, risen and been closed. Petrol stations are closed because their fuel tanks have pushed out of the ground, dust from liquefaction blows around Christchurch in the wind. Some of Christchurch’s most economically disadvantaged suburbs were also the ones hardest hit by the quake. At the time of writing this Aranui and eastern Christchurch still await regular running water, power and sewer-age. My Ma & Pa have had to move out of their new home to rent somewhere on solid rock, I lost the building my new business was in and am now unemployed and on the dole.

So much will have to be rebuilt and the huge amount of scrap for the yards will fill every landfill in the region. But communities have become 100 percent stronger. The earth showed us just what it can do, how small we are, how much money doesn't matter, how important clean water and a self-sufficient food supply is. I learnt that a strong community after a big disaster makes for an easier recovery.

I am leaving for Wellington next week. There is no work in Lyt-telton or Christchurch and I no longer have a business. I travel with fear to Wellington because they are long over due for a big one. First Christchurch then Japan – I can’t help but think ‘who's next?’ They say the quakes are caused by planetary alignment, the Super Moon etc. Well what ever does cause them I’ll just stick with call-ing it nature.

Overall I've changed a little in thought, I've learnt a lot about the earth and felt the warmth of a good community. I hate the quakes at the same time as I love them. x

photo: Gina Moss

You don’t know they are coming. Experts don’t know they are coming. No one knows they are coming.

Earthquakes don’t give a shit. They just happen.

God is not involved.

It’s really hard, but it’s well worth lis-tening to Civil Defence missives if you live in an earthquake prone area.

Be prepared for an event. Tie your TV, bookshelves, microwaves etc to the wall. Put catches on the cupboards. Keep crockery in draws. Store water. Make an emergency kit.

After a strong earthquake has turned your life upside down, you really don’t care whether you have the newest car, an ipod, ipad or ianything—it’s all worthless junk. Believe me, you would swap your Aston Marton for a working transistor radio, torch or some water. And a hug.

Lessons from a 6.3

Make yourself an emergency kit with these things in it: a telephone that plugs into your telephone socket and doesn’t need batteries. A car inverter so you can charge your cell phone and other appliances in your car. A tran-sistor radio, a torch, water, food, gas cooker, spade to dig a toilet, toilet pa-per, first aid kit, cell phone, and solar battery charger

Earthquakes kill infrastructure, i.e. power, water, sewage.

The internet doesn’t work when you don’t have power.

Stuff doesn’t matter. Only people.

In a split second, it’s possible to lose your credibility with friends and fam-ily if you put yourself first. It's possible after the shock to lose your credibility because you never say “what can I do to help” or share your good fortune with others less fortunate. These acts will be remembered —for better or worse.

From a blog post by Tony Brunt

www.tonybruntphotography.com

Heroes aren’t necessarily the people who do life-risking things. Heroes are the people who offer their homes to people without; who offer water when people don’t have any. Heroes are people that make someone else a cup of tea. Heroes are people that give you a hug and who cry with you and say it will be alright. Heroes are people that organise the com-munity to help one another. He-roes are just people that live next door and smile at you as you pass.

Having a car with a full tank of gas is security and mobility.

Cell phones often work in an emer-gency. Keep them charged.

Earthquakes aren’t one-offs. There is the destroyer, then there are all the relations that follow. Most are petite; however, some have over-eaten. Trouble is, every rumble could be a destroyer wanna-be. You don’t know. Ever. Every time there is a sudden noise you jump. Every time there is an aftershock (there are thousands) you wonder “is this another one? How big is it going to be?"

People that live through an earthquake and its aftershocks are stressed and live on the edge. They cry for no apparent reason. Even the men. It’s just how it is. Be kind and patient with them. Don’t forget them.

Judging from the damage to homes and commercial build-ings around our city, engineers and architects don’t always get it right. When choosing a site to build, use common sense. If you are building your house under a cliff, expect rocks to fall from the cliff and hit your house. If you are building on a beach which is only a couple of metres above sea level, expect the sea to wash your house away.

Rocky

adriannnnnnnnnnnnnnn nylon (684 ) 10:06 pm, Mon 28 Feb don't poooosh me :-) 8:24 am, Tue 1 Mar

Is it true that Rocky has kicked his drug habit and is no longer addicted to 'crack'? scott2ride (68 ) 10:52 am, Tue 1 Mar correct. he has indeed cracked the crack 11:04 am, Tue 1 Mar

Hi Phil, I assume that Rocky has been House Trained?? Good Luck with your Auction, an excellent idea! r.a.proctor (1561 ) 4:42 pm, Mon 28 Feb Yep, fully house trained. Although due to his size things can get a little testy if he is in a hurry! 4:45 pm, Mon 28 Feb

From a trademe.co.nz auction

held by member phil.johnson

photo: Tony Brunt

EMERGEncy PREPaRatIonSThe following recommendations are from the New Zealand Civil Defence, check out their website for more information: www.getthru.govt.nz

photo: Michael Moss

EMERGENCY SURVIVAL ITEMS| Torch with spare batteries or a self-charging torch

| A radio with spare batteries (check all batteries every 3 months)

| Wind and waterproof clothing, sun hats, and strong outdoor shoes

| First aid kit and essential medicines

| Blankets or sleeping bags

| Pet supplies

| Emergency toilet—toilet paper and large rubbish bags

| Face and dust masks

| Nonperishable (canned or dried) food for 3 days or more

| Food, formula and drinks for babies and small children

| Water (at least 3 litres per person, per day) for drinking

| Water for washing and cooking

| A primus or gas barbeque to cook on

| A can opener

Consider stocking a two-week supply of food and water for prolonged emergencies, such as a pandemic. Check and replace food and water every twelve months.

HOW TO STORE WATER| Wash bottles thoroughly in hot water Fill each bottle with tap water until it overflows

| Add five drops of household bleach per litre of water (or half a teaspoon for 10 litres)

| Store in a cool dark place and replace the water every 12 months

photos: Tony Brunt

A FEW OTHER RECOMMENDATIONS ABOUT EARTHQUAKES FROM OUR WRITERS IN CHRISTCHURCH:

| Listen to the radio: it has the most current and accessible information.

| Expect electricity, water and sewerage systems to fail and be prepared to live without them for days or weeks.

| When electricity is cut, it is helpful to have a mobile phone charger for use in a car and a landline phone that doesn’t need electricity to work.

| You will likely need a shovel.

| Hand sanitiser is essential: it might be the closest thing you get to washing your hands for days.

| Keep an emergency supply of petrol for your car.

| Camping equipment is perfect in an emergency. Keep it somewhere accessible.

| Attach your bookshelves and anything tall to the walls in your house. You will prevent extra damage and risk to life from heavy items falling.

| Drawers are far better than cupboards and shelves for protecting things from falling and breaking.

| Get to know your neighbours. In an emergency they may become even more valuable than your family and friends.

photo: Tony Brunt

A s history uncurls her fingers from Christchurch, the stories of loss, survival, and the stupid blunt force of an indifferent planet emerge from the dust. For those of us with friends and family in Christchurch, the

test of our support is not in the days and weeks after the quake, but in the coming, weeks, and months, and years when the adrenaline will fade and the long slow and tedious task of reconstructing lives begins.

While the pain is individual and the stories unique to Christchurch, the post dis-aster patterns are universal and the suffering is the same shared recently by com-munities around the world. From the huge earthquake in Japan, to government murders in Egypt, deadly floods in Queensland, civil unrest in Libya, floods in Pakistan, droughts in China and North Korea, and bombs in Iraq, the list goes on.

With this in mind I’ve been impressed by the surprisingly humanising role of technology in the weeks after the quake. Most of the time the devices and in-terfaces that consume our lives take us away from nature, from loved ones, and things we really appreciate. These are technologies that not only consume our working and relaxing hours, but are increasingly providing mundane fodder for our conversations. It is great then to see some truly mobilising potential with these ubiquitous digital machines.

Soft ResilienceBy Barnaby Bennett

Within hours of the Christchurch earthquake Google had worked with a number of organizations on a very effective missing persons interface called the Google Missing Person List. This interface built a large database that collected information from people who had missing relatives or information about thought to be missing people: google.com/crisisresponse/christchurch_earthquake.html

Within days, Habitat for Humanity had started a very easy to use website that acted as a platform for people both to offer accom-modation and to find places to stay: www.shelter.org.nz/

An international group of volunteers called Crisis Camp NZ (www.wiki.crisiscommons.org/wiki/CrisisCampNZ) produced a beautifully designed massive collaboration site titled the Christ-church Recovery Map: www.eq.org.nz/ Over 100,000 people con-tributed information—such as notifications about road closures, infrastructure problems, Red Cross locations, hazard zones and government locations—to this map.

The Canterbury University Students Association showed the value of Student Unions with their fantastic Student Volunteer Army. The SVA mobilised over 20,000 students and volunteers that worked closely with Civil Defense in the days after the Earthquake doing clean up jobs around the city like shoveling silt and providing information to the community: facebook.com/StudentVolunteerArmy

Wifi For Humanity (www.wififorhumanity.org/) has been working on a number of projects since the earthquake, including providing free wifi to temporarily housed people and working with Roam3.com to provide early warnings of aftershocks using Android phones.

These are just a few of the many responses to the earthquake we’ve seen, illustrating that these new technologies offer not only a speediness of set up and communication not previously possible, but also a radical repositioning of the role of the citizen. These new technologies are becoming critical tools in what might as well be called the democracies we live in, and it's a good reminder that democracy isn’t just about voting every three years, it is also the ability to engage with issues of governance as a free citizen.

Freerange Press is an interdisciplinary collective from Aotearoa, Australia, Atlantis and abroad that publishes writing and pictures about the city, design, politics, and pirates. We are an independent print and online publisher that explores the beauty, tragedy and complexity of life on this busy blue planet.

Contact us if you are interested in being involved, we are always keen for more good eggs! barnaby@projectfreerange.com | www.projectfreerange.com

photo: Gina Moss

In the glare of the bright grey morning,

The howling ghosts of an ancient past,

Sets the bones of a city rattling,

The ancient hills, the veins and sinews of mountains speak,

They say...

We've been here for a long time and we have been

Ignored!

Most of the time we sleep

Sometimes we stir

Sometimes... As men do, we snap!

The connective ages, rears within us.

Mountains stretch, rivers yawn,

Below us... Some unknown hand reaches to the sun,

The hand which shakes the cradle, splits the home,

Parts the ground...

Having turned in his sleep,

The earth sighs...

And peace returns...

And we are once again reminded...

In who's arms,

We lie...

Published by Freerange Presswww.projectfreerange.com

the Earthquake Poem

By Gary McCormickSunday, September 12, 2010

ONLINE ISBN: 978-0-473-18822-1 PRINT ISBN: 978-0-473-18821-4