Anniversary
Feb. 22nd, 2021 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyphomandraTen years ago I was trying to get to sleep on a mattress on the floor of the spare room at my best friend's house, my dog in his crate next to me and another family in the living room. My best friend's husband had dug a toilet in the back yard, we had no power and very little water, phone networks were unreliable, internet precarious, and the news all too much. Every few minutes another aftershock hit and the land groaned.
Ten years ago just after lunch I walked across the road to the main building. My phone was low on battery and I took the charger with me, intending to plug it in. I'd just gone inside a set of glass doors and was by the stairs going up to the mezzanine floor when the 6.3 quake hit. I grabbed onto the stair railing, as did another woman, and we clung on as everything shook and shattered around us.
Today at that time I stood in a park and listened first to the moment's silence, and then to the names of all 185 people who died in that quake.
My house was red-stickered and red-zoned after the quake. I broke in through the cordon twice to get stuff out; then in May I had fifty minutes supervised access to get what I could. We got general access in July (by which stage I think everyone's house had been broken into; I didn't lose much, but I had to question the burglars' decision-making when they opened a fridge that had had no power for five months) and I moved back in in December. And then out, of the house and Christchurch, the following July. Final settlement was another four years later.
Because the phone networks were down I used the battery power I had to take photos as I walked home.
This is looking towards the city, from beside the art gallery. You can see where the pavements are ripped up from the force of the quake.
At work we'd heard a rumour that the Cathedral had fallen down, but none of us were certain. This is the stump of it. This was at 2.20pm, and I was trying to work out how to get home - my usual route took me right through the CBD.
The building in the background is my townhouse complex - two rows of seven attached houses, with a common garden between, and it's on church land. The church was destroyed. I'd worn boots that day despite it being February, and as you can see by the liquefaction that turned out to be a good choice. I had to wade to get to my house and I had to get someone else to kick the gate open, as it had been twisted shut. It took me nearly two hours for what was usually a 25-30 minute walk.
I didn't take a lot of photos of my house, which was unhelpful when it came to settling insurance claims and they wanted not just photos but whether or not I'd gotten quotes to get appliances repaired (see the formerly mentioned fridge with no power, which was ultimately wrapped in plastic and hoisted off the balcony). This is the Stephen King bookcase; the rest of the house looked similar, with more glass and crockery in the kitchen.
I went out to pick up my dog, which took another 3 hours, and then by the time I got back the army had moved in, and I had to leave. This is, I think, on Barbados Street, and it looked like I felt.
I lived in Christchurch all up for 2 stretches of four years. With any place I've lived I end up with a mental map that is full of ghosts; buildings that aren't there, spaces that are no longer empty, road changes and new suburbs. My mental map for Christchurch is more haunted than any other, and it's difficult to go back there; each time I do confirms more places that have been erased. It's hard to balance holding on and letting go.
Ten years ago just after lunch I walked across the road to the main building. My phone was low on battery and I took the charger with me, intending to plug it in. I'd just gone inside a set of glass doors and was by the stairs going up to the mezzanine floor when the 6.3 quake hit. I grabbed onto the stair railing, as did another woman, and we clung on as everything shook and shattered around us.
Today at that time I stood in a park and listened first to the moment's silence, and then to the names of all 185 people who died in that quake.
My house was red-stickered and red-zoned after the quake. I broke in through the cordon twice to get stuff out; then in May I had fifty minutes supervised access to get what I could. We got general access in July (by which stage I think everyone's house had been broken into; I didn't lose much, but I had to question the burglars' decision-making when they opened a fridge that had had no power for five months) and I moved back in in December. And then out, of the house and Christchurch, the following July. Final settlement was another four years later.
Because the phone networks were down I used the battery power I had to take photos as I walked home.
This is looking towards the city, from beside the art gallery. You can see where the pavements are ripped up from the force of the quake.
At work we'd heard a rumour that the Cathedral had fallen down, but none of us were certain. This is the stump of it. This was at 2.20pm, and I was trying to work out how to get home - my usual route took me right through the CBD.
The building in the background is my townhouse complex - two rows of seven attached houses, with a common garden between, and it's on church land. The church was destroyed. I'd worn boots that day despite it being February, and as you can see by the liquefaction that turned out to be a good choice. I had to wade to get to my house and I had to get someone else to kick the gate open, as it had been twisted shut. It took me nearly two hours for what was usually a 25-30 minute walk.
I didn't take a lot of photos of my house, which was unhelpful when it came to settling insurance claims and they wanted not just photos but whether or not I'd gotten quotes to get appliances repaired (see the formerly mentioned fridge with no power, which was ultimately wrapped in plastic and hoisted off the balcony). This is the Stephen King bookcase; the rest of the house looked similar, with more glass and crockery in the kitchen.
I went out to pick up my dog, which took another 3 hours, and then by the time I got back the army had moved in, and I had to leave. This is, I think, on Barbados Street, and it looked like I felt.
I lived in Christchurch all up for 2 stretches of four years. With any place I've lived I end up with a mental map that is full of ghosts; buildings that aren't there, spaces that are no longer empty, road changes and new suburbs. My mental map for Christchurch is more haunted than any other, and it's difficult to go back there; each time I do confirms more places that have been erased. It's hard to balance holding on and letting go.
no subject
Date: 2021-02-22 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-24 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-22 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-24 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-22 09:49 pm (UTC)*hugs*
Thank you for remembering this set of ghosts. I know them only by reputation.
no subject
Date: 2021-02-24 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-23 12:25 am (UTC)(From Japan, waiting for the Nankai Trough earthquake to pick its timing, this is like a dispatch from the future; I hope we can all stay earthquake-free for a long time.)
no subject
Date: 2021-02-24 09:37 pm (UTC)Oh yes, I’m definitely in favour of being (large) earthquake-free and hope you also remain so! My father is a geophysicist, although he inclines more towards volcanoes than earthquakes (he spent several years in Japan, mainly studying Aso-san) so can helpfully keep me updated on NZ’s major fault risks, all of which seem to be overdue :O