Oh, Christchurch

Tuesday shocked us all. An already shaken Christchurch was rattled to the core and this time it was during the day. Photos and videos emerged, quickly, as they do these days. It looked like another country, a country we could easily shrug off and forget. But no, this was our country. And our people were scattered in the streets, injured and filled with adrenaline. The human spirit took over what shock and fear suspended. People just got to work and started putting their panic towards helping others.

I was in Wellington and the first I knew of this was when I overheard a colleague mention something about an earthquake. I'm a bit of an earthquake nerd so I perked up and noticed that she was at the GeoNet website. I quickly found my way to the national seismograph network's page. A vertical black line dwarfed the horizontal lines representing each seismometer. There had been a massive shake. From Waipu Caves to Wether Hill Road, the black line was bad.

Ten minutes earlier, I had left the office to indulge in my daily ritual of chocolate covered almonds. While waiting to cross Willis Street I looked up and wondered if these were the eerie conditions Ken Ring had warned about on February 14th with his article "Earthquakes again in Christchurch?" Those odd cloud formations I'd seen whilst walking the previous afternoon. The drops and hikes in barometric pressure I'd been feverishly monitoring via GWRC's met stations. Yes, these were the conditions. And Christchurch was the venue for utter destruction. I'd been hassling my partner that our disaster kit wasn't up to scratch and last weekend, we restocked. I was sure it was coming, for us.

I began to wonder why Christchurch had been struck again. Why, considering Wellington is known to be so overdue for a massive shake? I felt a strange and horribly selfish guilt for Christchurch, that somehow they had been given our fate. I just wish I could do more than donate to the Red Cross, offer Christchurch friends a place of stable refuge and pray for better news. People all around town have a look of guarded sadness in their eyes. They're sad, but stoic. Such is the reality of living here. Our shaky isles are beautiful but ever restless.

I'd like to fast forward to ten years from now. This disaster's victims are remembered fondly, not frantically. The city is mostly rebuilt, except for councillors haggling over which sculptor to commission for which piece and where. The suburbs are humming again with buses, cars and big-box hardware stores selling home improvement at the lowest possible price. Such is the peace that time passed will bring. But for now, courage is Canterbury's constant companion. Kia kaha Canterbury.