My New Zealand immersion wouldn’t be a proper one without an earthquake. Just my luck, on September 4th at 4:35 am, my world here got shaken and rocked as a 7.2 magnitude quake drove through the Canterbury Region of NZ. At the time of the quake, I was safely tucked away up in the mountains. The epicenter was in a small farming town called Darfield (which I had driven through that same day) located between Christchurch and the Southern Alps, yet the magnitude of the quake was so great that the entire country was awoken that night to the rumbling of the quake. It was the next morning that I found out the size of the quake was the same size as Haiti’s, and that virtually any poorly built or historic brick building in Christchurch were now piles of rubble.
Thousands of bricks littered the sidewalks and streets of the city, yet miraculously there were no deaths and very few serious injuries. The example of New Zealand coping with this serious disaster has become a world leader in earthquake preparation and aftermath. It also shows the difference between 1st and 3rd world countries ability to sustain a large earthquake. The entire length of New Zealand lies upon the meeting point between the Australian and Pacific plates, resulting in hundreds of earthquakes (mostly small) per year. But sometimes, in this instance (said to be a 1 in 750 yr occurrence), the earthquakes are larger, and thankfully due to strict building codes and inspections, Christchurch and the surrounding areas withstood surprisingly well.
Thousands of families were displaced the week after the earthquake hit, and hundreds still are. Public buildings and schools became relief shelters for those whose houses were uninhabitable. Contaminated water, cut-off electricity, and broken sewage systems forced many to leave the area, including myself. I spent the week following the quake with my family several hours out of the region, staying at a friends house with flushing toilets, water and electricity, far away enough that the aftershocks were minimal.
I quickly learned that aftershocks follow a large quake, sometimes for months afterwards. Though the initial shake was terrifying, it was the aftershocks that rose the most amount of unease in myself and the community. In the past two weeks, there have been 600+ smaller earthquakes all hours of the day, some being as large as 5.1. Some are small jolts that feel as if you are slightly off balance, some shake the house for a moment sounding loud cracks in the walls, and some are long and hard enough that you stop what you’re doing to wait and listen to see whether you need to grab the kids and run out of the house or to the nearest doorway.
Despite the size, everyone accelerates your adrenaline in a matter of seconds, and it has been a great practice to control your calm and try to live normally in not-so-normal conditions. I struggled the most at first at night-time when aftershocks would jolt me wide-awake, adrenaline pumping, ready to jump out of bed if the rumbling got any worse. After a few too many sleepless nights, I finally came to a point of acceptance-that aftershocks are going to happen no matter what, and that I will know if there is a bad one where I need to move to a safe place.
My unease was so high previous to this that it became my only option to relax into the jolts unless I wanted to continue walking around any longer as an anxious, walking-zombie. After this, there was nothing a little yoga breathing couldn’t conquer in the determination to stay calm. The aftershocks have gotten better now, and the community has picked itself up again in effort to bring back normality into daily life. There will be no shortage of building jobs in the next 6 months, and many buildings are being torn down for good.
Very few chimneys made it out alive, and many are being carefully removed so as not to fall in an aftershock or bad storm. Our own chimney nearly crumbled through the roof, so my hosts removed it several days ago to be safe. There’s been no shortage of spirit in the Canterbury communities. There may have been fewer people out on the streets following the quakes, but you might find half the town tucked into the local coffee shop sharing stories, or makeshift playgroups being formed due to schools being closed. I attended a potluck put on by the Civil Defense in my local community where kids drew pictures of rainbow houses with fully-intact chimney’s and people just enjoyed the company of others and a chance to take their minds off their shaky lives. The importance of community in coping with the after-math of disasters is indispensable. This reaffirms the fact of how grateful I am to not be traveling alone, but be part of my own community and with friends that feel like family during what seemed like such a scary time.
Everyday we are painstakingly aware of how lucky we are as we drive through the city to get groceries past streets of rubble and debris. We are eearily reminded of what it might be like to be in the position of thousands living in war zones or heavy disaster zones bombarded with blasts trying to get through their days with a sense of normalcy. I haven’t taken any pictures yet, and am not sure I will, so for now just pulled these photos from the local newspaper source. All is well, and things are basically back to normal as I sit and write this in the public library (yet not w/o the buzz of construction working on bracing a historic building next door). I am happy and safe. It has all been an experience. Next up, I’ll write about the glorious mountains that I have gotten to call home, and the adventures I’ve embarked on trying to ride down them gracefully. 
