Shake, shake, rumble, roar...

Where to start? It's the (early) morning after yesterday afternoon's 5.5 and 6.0 (now upgraded to 5.6 and 6.3) 'aftershocks'. The word aftershock just doesn't cut the mustard. 'Aftershock' implies something less significant than the major event. But yesterday's shakes were big and scary major events in their own right, to say nothing of the constant lesser movement throughout the afternoon, evening and night. I gave up trying to sleep at 3.00am.

When the 6.3 hit yesterday I was down the section. I dropped to my hands and knees and held on. The first time I have been in direct contact with the ground in any of the big quakes and it was more frightening I think than being inside the house. Worse still was the prolonged roar that travelled up the harbour as the tremors subsided. I knew instinctively it was massive rockfall - and I think that unnerved me more than anything else.

Rockfalls at Whitewash Head, 13 June 2011 (not my photo)

Ornaments and paintings fell in the house again - though not on the September or February scale. My carefully stacked woodpile (in the garage) has again collapsed onto my mother's once much treasured mahogany dining table. The cats fled. I checked on neighbours, they checked on me. We shared our experiences. Without power, neighbour Clare's car was stuck in her garage and she borrowed mine to pick up Libby and Joe over the hill. The power finally came back on about 10.30pm. For the first time I felt scared and well and truly 'over it'.


Ironically, on Sunday cousin Claire and I had taken the ferry across the harbour to say farewell to Godley House, badly damaged in the September and February quakes and due to be demolished. It was a beautiful, calm morning in Lyttelton.

Tug Purau at Lyttelton, opposite the Diamond Harbour ferry terminal

Claire and Stormy on the ferry 

According to its website, Godley house was built in 1880 by Harvey Hawkins, a ship chandler, ironmonger and speculator and one of Lyttelton’s leading citizens. The Hawkins home was a grand house for entertaining and a jetty was built at the bottom of the hill to bring the people over from Lyttelton. The home was painted by Margaret Stoddard whose father had sold the land to Hawkins.

Godley House, Diamond Harbour c. 1913. 

In my parents' time, Godley House provided fashionable accommodation. I think Mum and Dad spent part of their honeymoon there.

Godley House, 12th June 2011

The chair, in a garden usually busy with picnicking families and couples having afternoon tea or a wine/beer, was somehow symbolic of the absence that pervades so many locations around the city.

A lone chair in the Godley House grounds

Six days later...

This is the strangest time. The aftershocks are now infrequent and for hours on end the world feels 'normal'. Then there is another sharp jolt and we are re-reminded of our vulnerability. The scariest part is hearing the pre-jolt rumble and bracing for whatever is to come.

There are layers of unreality. An interesting one is to do with the media coverage which would suggest that Christchurch has been flattened. Not so. There is the very obvious 'devastation' in certain (particularly the eastern) suburbs and of some heritage buildings in the central city. But superficially at least, much of the city appears untouched. It can be difficult to reconcile the hyped up reportage with the apparent 'reality'. I think of Haiti, where the term 'devastation' might truly apply, and feel ashamed that we can be so indulgent and self-absorbed. Yet there is a perverse pleasure in devouring the media coverage of our plight, in seeing ourselves spotlighted in the national and international news. There is a certain pride in attracting apocalyptic labels.

Having said that, I have learnt that the nature of quake damage can be deceptive. There is the very obvious and dramatic - and then there are the creeping fissures, the hidden cracks and gaps whose impact may not be felt for some time to come. I have a snaking, post-quake crack in the bank above my house which, given rain and time, may threaten my safety. And I'm reminded of the Leonard Cohen line: 

"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in".

Beckenham shops

Beckenham shops