Last week Ishaan came up with a terrible hoarse cough, so Thursday and Friday saw us home from school and work, resting up well.
Thursday at 1.04pm, I was sitting on the bed reading a story to him, and all of a sudden we both stopped, and I looked up at the fan. Sure enough it was swinging slightly, enough to confirm for me what I had already suspected. EARTHQUAKE! It was just a small one, in fact later I found out it was a magnitude 4.4, with the epicentre in Bangladesh. I'm used to everything rattling and things falling off shelves, and that heart-stopping fear was something that was all too familiar for us both.
In light of the earthquake that seemed to follow me to India, I thought I would share a small piece I wrote after the February 22nd earthquake in Christchurch.
"1st March 2011. Everyone has a story. Some involve death, some involve falling buildings on top of them, some involve saving someone’s life or even your life being saved. But everyone’s story has the same pain, emotion, horror, panic and disbelief, and it is with those things that we all have a bond now that will never be broken. I was in the Christchurch Earthquake of February 2011, and I survived. You too? Wasn’t it devastating? Where were you when it happened?
I was at work - in a large warehouse in Sydenham, home of Four Corners NZ. Sitting peacefully creating jewellery in a comfy big office chair, listening to the Ghost Brothers on my iPod, and looking forward to lunch at 1pm. We all froze when it first started - was it just another small aftershock - looked at each other and paused for all of about a split second... and made a run for the door. The mechanic on the corner of Stanley Street and Colombo Street has panels of glass at the top of their garage – not anymore. The noise of those glass panels made my heart stop. It was a bit of a blur really, parked cars were moving, people were crying and running everywhere, alarms and sirens going off, water pipes bursting in the road, frantically texting and calling anyone and everyone we could. Nothing was connecting... is Ishaan okay at kindy? Is the Hare Krsna temple okay... what about the Deities?
It took me 45 minutes just to get out of Sydenham. I left work about 1.30pm, and headed the usual way home. Naive of me – I didn’t realise the enormity of the situation. Detour after detour, bumper to bumper traffic, and moving at 3km/hour. At first I tried taking little side streets to avoid the backed up traffic, but every street I turned, the packed cars were there. No trying to find a shortcut... everyone wanted out. Tried calling Kindercare again to get hold of Ishaan. No answer.
Every so often I would glance down a main street towards town – Colombo street, Manchester Street, Tuam Street, Cashel Mall. Everywhere I looked, the streets looked like a war-zone. “I wonder if there will be any deaths in this one” I thought.
My answer came soon enough. At first I didn’t believe she was actually dead, just someone injured. Why was no one helping her? She wasn’t moving, just lay peacefully, almost as if sleeping. The rubble and concrete slabs around her seemed unnatural. Then, admist the alarms, sirens, sobbing and crying, I heard a pierced scream and saw someone throw themselves on the body. Was she alive? I watched closely for any sign of life, but the non-stop wailing of her friend/partner/colleague/stranger were not comforting for me. Reality of the situation was fast becoming apparent. An aftershock suddenly rocked the city, my car swayed and rocked, bricks fell from the building to my left, and the image of pedestrians shocked and panicked faces is imprinted in my mind.
The traffic in front of me had moved considerably, I guess I’d been too distracted to move. I took advantage of the gap in traffic to slip into the next road and turn down a side street. I don’t care if I meet another traffic jam, I just couldn’t be anywhere near the city buildings and see destructiveness and horror like I’d just seen. I tried to get through to Kindercare again, the number still wouldn’t connect.
My main focus now was getting to Ishaan, though this proved harder than I thought. Buildings were still tumbling in all directions, people crying everywhere, ambulances and fire engines flying past all the time. Detours throughout the city meant I ended up in Avonside Drive, an area scattered with road cracks, burst water pipes and liquefaction the caused problems for almost every car that drove down it. Thank god for my full time 4WD!
Three hours and three closed bridges later, I decided to just abandon my car by one bridge, and just walk the 15 blocks to Kindercare, though I had no clue what to do once I got there. Two blocks down the road brought me to an older lady simply sitting in her car, stunned, not doing much at all. I stopped to check she was okay, and if she needed any help.
"I'm not sure. All I know is I need to get to Wainoni Road, on the other side of the bridge"
Her face had this faraway look, like she was dreaming of a place that did not include horror like the day had delivered.
"I can't really face the long drive to find a safe route home. I mean who knows if any bridges at all are even open!"
The solution came to us both at the same time and without skipping a beat, we offered each others cars to one another. After exchanging names and phone numbers, we quietly drove off in our respective directions, not only happy to have some sort of transport to get home and get to our loved ones, but glad to have been there for each other.
My story could go on forever. How I got to Ishaan and he told me the wiggly wobbly made him fall off the slide. How we then went to the temple and sobbed for the loss of the building and, more heartbreakingly, our beloved Nitai Gaurachandra. How it took us another hour to get home – a home with no power or water. How we then spent the evening at our neighbours house, provided with a lovely cup of hot chai by another neighbour, made on a small gas camping cooker. How texts and calls were coming in from all over the world to check I was okay.
But my story is insignificant compared to some. Because I am okay, my close friends and family have all been accounted for, my home is undamaged. Some people aren’t so lucky, and its them I’m thinking of, its them my heart goes out to. My darling friend Brooke is still waiting and hoping for a miracle for her best friend Adam, still missing... and I hope and pray with her. And she isn’t the only one... I hope and pray for the 155 people confirmed dead, and the many many others still missing. I hope and pray for my amazing Hare Krsna temple to rise up stronger and even better than before. I pray and hope Sri Sri Nitai Gaurachandra with show us Their beautiful smiles again.
Today marks a week since our lives have changed. I stood in silence alongside Police Officers in Papanui as the whole city came to a standstill at 12:51pm, and heard quiet sobs and choked tears come from the most strongest of men.
Kia kaha Otautahi (Be strong Christchurch)."
Thursday at 1.04pm, I was sitting on the bed reading a story to him, and all of a sudden we both stopped, and I looked up at the fan. Sure enough it was swinging slightly, enough to confirm for me what I had already suspected. EARTHQUAKE! It was just a small one, in fact later I found out it was a magnitude 4.4, with the epicentre in Bangladesh. I'm used to everything rattling and things falling off shelves, and that heart-stopping fear was something that was all too familiar for us both.
In light of the earthquake that seemed to follow me to India, I thought I would share a small piece I wrote after the February 22nd earthquake in Christchurch.
"1st March 2011. Everyone has a story. Some involve death, some involve falling buildings on top of them, some involve saving someone’s life or even your life being saved. But everyone’s story has the same pain, emotion, horror, panic and disbelief, and it is with those things that we all have a bond now that will never be broken. I was in the Christchurch Earthquake of February 2011, and I survived. You too? Wasn’t it devastating? Where were you when it happened?I was at work - in a large warehouse in Sydenham, home of Four Corners NZ. Sitting peacefully creating jewellery in a comfy big office chair, listening to the Ghost Brothers on my iPod, and looking forward to lunch at 1pm. We all froze when it first started - was it just another small aftershock - looked at each other and paused for all of about a split second... and made a run for the door. The mechanic on the corner of Stanley Street and Colombo Street has panels of glass at the top of their garage – not anymore. The noise of those glass panels made my heart stop. It was a bit of a blur really, parked cars were moving, people were crying and running everywhere, alarms and sirens going off, water pipes bursting in the road, frantically texting and calling anyone and everyone we could. Nothing was connecting... is Ishaan okay at kindy? Is the Hare Krsna temple okay... what about the Deities?
It took me 45 minutes just to get out of Sydenham. I left work about 1.30pm, and headed the usual way home. Naive of me – I didn’t realise the enormity of the situation. Detour after detour, bumper to bumper traffic, and moving at 3km/hour. At first I tried taking little side streets to avoid the backed up traffic, but every street I turned, the packed cars were there. No trying to find a shortcut... everyone wanted out. Tried calling Kindercare again to get hold of Ishaan. No answer.
Every so often I would glance down a main street towards town – Colombo street, Manchester Street, Tuam Street, Cashel Mall. Everywhere I looked, the streets looked like a war-zone. “I wonder if there will be any deaths in this one” I thought.
My answer came soon enough. At first I didn’t believe she was actually dead, just someone injured. Why was no one helping her? She wasn’t moving, just lay peacefully, almost as if sleeping. The rubble and concrete slabs around her seemed unnatural. Then, admist the alarms, sirens, sobbing and crying, I heard a pierced scream and saw someone throw themselves on the body. Was she alive? I watched closely for any sign of life, but the non-stop wailing of her friend/partner/colleague/stranger were not comforting for me. Reality of the situation was fast becoming apparent. An aftershock suddenly rocked the city, my car swayed and rocked, bricks fell from the building to my left, and the image of pedestrians shocked and panicked faces is imprinted in my mind.The traffic in front of me had moved considerably, I guess I’d been too distracted to move. I took advantage of the gap in traffic to slip into the next road and turn down a side street. I don’t care if I meet another traffic jam, I just couldn’t be anywhere near the city buildings and see destructiveness and horror like I’d just seen. I tried to get through to Kindercare again, the number still wouldn’t connect.
My main focus now was getting to Ishaan, though this proved harder than I thought. Buildings were still tumbling in all directions, people crying everywhere, ambulances and fire engines flying past all the time. Detours throughout the city meant I ended up in Avonside Drive, an area scattered with road cracks, burst water pipes and liquefaction the caused problems for almost every car that drove down it. Thank god for my full time 4WD!
Three hours and three closed bridges later, I decided to just abandon my car by one bridge, and just walk the 15 blocks to Kindercare, though I had no clue what to do once I got there. Two blocks down the road brought me to an older lady simply sitting in her car, stunned, not doing much at all. I stopped to check she was okay, and if she needed any help.
"I'm not sure. All I know is I need to get to Wainoni Road, on the other side of the bridge"
Her face had this faraway look, like she was dreaming of a place that did not include horror like the day had delivered.
"I can't really face the long drive to find a safe route home. I mean who knows if any bridges at all are even open!"
The solution came to us both at the same time and without skipping a beat, we offered each others cars to one another. After exchanging names and phone numbers, we quietly drove off in our respective directions, not only happy to have some sort of transport to get home and get to our loved ones, but glad to have been there for each other.
My story could go on forever. How I got to Ishaan and he told me the wiggly wobbly made him fall off the slide. How we then went to the temple and sobbed for the loss of the building and, more heartbreakingly, our beloved Nitai Gaurachandra. How it took us another hour to get home – a home with no power or water. How we then spent the evening at our neighbours house, provided with a lovely cup of hot chai by another neighbour, made on a small gas camping cooker. How texts and calls were coming in from all over the world to check I was okay.
But my story is insignificant compared to some. Because I am okay, my close friends and family have all been accounted for, my home is undamaged. Some people aren’t so lucky, and its them I’m thinking of, its them my heart goes out to. My darling friend Brooke is still waiting and hoping for a miracle for her best friend Adam, still missing... and I hope and pray with her. And she isn’t the only one... I hope and pray for the 155 people confirmed dead, and the many many others still missing. I hope and pray for my amazing Hare Krsna temple to rise up stronger and even better than before. I pray and hope Sri Sri Nitai Gaurachandra with show us Their beautiful smiles again.
Today marks a week since our lives have changed. I stood in silence alongside Police Officers in Papanui as the whole city came to a standstill at 12:51pm, and heard quiet sobs and choked tears come from the most strongest of men.
Kia kaha Otautahi (Be strong Christchurch)."
No comments:
Post a Comment