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Kaye Kelly |
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My last blog was shortly before Christchurch’s devastating February 22 earthquake. To this day, and for the rest of my life, the memories of seeing shocked and distressed survivors being pulled out of rubble and debris and realising with a numb sense of horror that there were still so many people trapped and dying inside the collapsed buildings, will haunt me. Thousands and thousands of the city’s residents are now living in other towns and cities, also overseas, and now that so many know officially that their loved suburbs, homes and gardens can no longer be lived in there’ll be an even greater flood of people leaving. Few of these people will return. Which is a damned shame. But who can blame them? I doubt there would be anybody in Christchurch who didn’t love, know or was related to at least one of the victims killed on February 22. The still eerie quiet of the CBD is a ghostly and harsh reminder of what happened that day and the heartbreaking losses so many suffered. These earthquake survivors are all heroes of the tragedy as they’ve battled liquefaction—a word most of us had never heard of let alone what it was until the September earthquake of last year—loss of treasured mementoes, homes transformed into the actuality of the Little Crooked House of the nursery rhyme; cheerfully made do with Portaloos, ingenious variations of outside toilets, public and friends’ facilities for showering and washing and inventive methods of cooking. And now the added tribulation of the winter without adequate heating in a lot of cases. All this with nerves shot to pieces, yet retaining a marvellous sense of humour. But look closely and you’ll see the heartache and tears lurking beneath the laughter. I fervently hope that I will never be involved in a disaster of this magnitude, however, if fate decrees it must be so, then I pray I’ll be able to face it with the dignity, courage and humour of the people of Christchurch. Kaye |