February 22nd, 2011: Remembering, 5 Years On
Today is the fifth anniversary of the February 22nd earthquake that claimed 185 lives, injured many other people, destroyed Christchurch’s central city, and resulted in the “red zoning” of considerable sections of residential suburbs, chiefly in the City’s east and in the hills.
And although it may seem like the sublime, given the above, to the ridiculous, the same earthquake also did over $100,000 damage to the house I live in, which remains unrestored, five years on.
Over these 5 years I have written a number of commemorative posts, commenting on various aspects of the earthquake aftermaths, including the need for leadership and vision, the “rebuild” as a saga of substandard repairs (in many cases on the taxpayers’ dollar), my personal situation, and other aspects of the “recovery.”
In many ways, the situation with Christchurch’s trees is also an aftermath of the earthquakes, arising from a deep-seated weariness of destruction and an equally profound desire to retain something of value.
I could put on my embedded reporter’s hat and address all these topics again. But I’m not going to.
Instead I’m going to tell you how I feel today, which is mostly sad. I usually listen to the Radio New Zealand news in the morning, but as soon as they began featuring interviews with people who had “been there” in some way on February 22nd, I had to switch it off. This is not reflection on the people or their stories, but I didn’t want to go there, reopening the old wounds.
Perhaps this is partly because my personal situation remains in limbo, because of the unresolved insurance claim. Or perhaps it is simply, as the recent 5.7 quake on Sunday 14th made clear, that I am nowhere near as close to “over it” as I had thought. Normalcy and recovery both remain a surface covering over a deep well of grief and loss.
I felt that grief and loss again today as I gathered with others in our community to remember. We came together on the riverbank, adjoining the site of the former Medway bridge (which became the twisted “Shaky Bridge”) to help create Christchurch’s river of flowers. The empty land that surrounded us is not a park (although many would like it to become one) but the Avonside-Dallington Residential Red Zone.
We observed two minutes of silence; school kids sang and performed a haka, then we all threw flowers into the river. A moment of memory for five years of grief and loss.
Is there a lesson in it? I suspect we all take different lessons, but for me it is about trying to look beyond ourselves: to be in community with others, not just in our immediately neighbourhood and city, but to have compassion for all those, wherever they are, who “suffer from any sickness, grief, or trouble.”
And to always ask ourselves the question: If I respond to those in trouble out of fear, what will I do? But if I act out of love, what will I do then?
It is easy to fall away from rising to that test, in the ongoing stress, uncertainty, and oftentimes quite simple “grunge” of the post-earthquake city. So if there is a benefit in today, it may be taking the time out to remember and reconnect with the values that got us through 2010-2011: people, community and acting toward others out of love and not fear.
It does not diminish the sorrow and the sense of loss, though: that, I suspect, will always be with us.
Mindful of you and our Christchurch community on this day of remembrance, Helen. May the earth rest peacefully beneath all our feet.
Well said, Claire, and seconded.
As Helen says in her post, we are all still in this, here in Christchurch. The 5.7 quake last week prompted some awful feelings. Very tough.