Life after the quake
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A week after the big quake life was far from back to normal. While on the day of the quake I had cycled over to visit friends in the northern suburb of Casebrook, the only damage I saw was a man fixing up a fallen letter box. Those of us in the north west, we've I've been since my central city apartment was damaged in last years earthquake, had came though this one ok. On Tuesday I ventured south, toward the central business district, which is of course still cordoned off (as it is likely to be for months) to visit the medical center (which had reopened with no damage but a lot of fallen paperwork) and see some friends in the area.
The methodist church nearby had lost its steeple, and the road was closed forcing me to take a slightly different route than I would otherwise. My partner and I cycled down the off-road cycle way next to the cereal factory which in the national emergency had became a triage area. They had a sign outside advertising that they had free water for those still without it. Knowing that if we took the road traffic would be difficult around the site of the most damaged building in Papanui, closed since the September quake and now a pile of rubble, we continued on the cycle way and detoured through a large park. There was an abundance of cyclists in the city, a possible result of petrol being harder to come by- mostly due to panicked resident stocking up rather than an actual fuel shortage- and the total shut down of public transport.
We passed through Merivale, and saw the surreal sight of a cartoonish mushroom sitting inside a building with a totally collapsed facade. I later saw on TV that three people were killed when that collapse happened. The inner city suburb of St Albans, our destination, was a dust bowl. The late summer heat had dried the silt which came up from the ground when the quake hit and the wind was spreading dust all over the area, I did see one still wet pile of silt that looked (and smelled) like a colossal cow pat. Many people were wearing face masks, which looked odd but it turns out was in line with advice from the District Health Board. With the friends we can met up with, we went on a convoy of bicycles to Columbo St, the main drag of the city, looking south toward the CBD we stopped on a traffic island and observed the official two minutes silence exactly one week since the quake hit.
As I write this, I have left the city for a few days respite from the chaos, soon I will return to a broken town and get on with life. I encourage anyone moved by these stories to donate through either the Red Cross or St John.
