Wednesday, February 23, 2011


I actually am not sure if I'm comfortable posting about this.  I'll keep it short.

On Tuesday morning I was in a public carpark with the Husband's aunt and uncle from Christchurch who were staying with us for a few days on their way to a wedding.  He got a phone call.  It was a bad, bad phone call.  He stumbled and fell over.  He kept saying "oh no, oh no"  over and over.  We waited and then he told us. She started wailing.  Their children and family were in Christchurch.  The earthquake had literally just happened, it was their son on the phone.

And that began for them a day of phone calls and waiting.  The last family member, The Husband's uncle, made contact 6 hours later. Our family and friends are all fine.  But hundreds and hundreds aren't. Everyone knows someone in Christchurch, or if they don't they know someone who knows someone.  My aussie and kiwi friends have all been asking after each other.  Everyone is affected.  Even if you've never been to New Zealand.  It's impossible not to be.

The physical damage to property seems almost inconsequential.  For the moment.  As does the loss of power, water and sewage.
For the moment.
Because as the 100 hour mark ticks closer and hope starts fading, there is still hope.  We hopefully watch the news coverage, hoping for good news stories of voices in the rubble.  Families hopefully watch those amazing rescue crews, hoping for miracles.  We hope that the numbers reported missing are wrong and we hope that these numbers won't turn into fatalities.  We hope that those 300 people missing weren't sitting at their desks in those collapsed buildings but instead have scampered out of the city and to somewhere safe (and have just forgotten to tell the authorities).  We hope that the gorgeous city of Christchurch survives and is rebuilt.  We hope that it's possible to sit under a desk with rubble around you, for many hours, and survive.
We hope.

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