This is something I wrote a couple months ago but didn’t post then. Now I am posting it because it gives a lot more context and insight to what might have otherwise appeared to be a token nod to the quake yesterday. I spent 12:51 yesterday alone, the same way I was when the quake hit. Yesterday was a day of reflection. Today however, I’d like to share my experiences over the last year.
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It’s been almost ten months since Christchurch was crushed by the 6.8 quake that took over a hundred lives. I haven’t spoken much about it in recent months, but I thought I’d make a post because, well, it’s not over yet.
Since the original 7.1 quake in September 2010, there have been over 14,000 aftershocks. These days many of those go un-noticed, but between September 2010 and July of this year, several of them were strong enough to make walking impossible. That’s how you know a quake is bad, by the way. A decent shake will make moving difficult. A quake like the one that struck in February leaves no time for anything, no time to run, no time to hide. I know a lot of people who live in quake prone cities assume that they’ll have time to get out of the way if a big one hits – unfortunately that’s not the case. The way I think most people will be able to understand the feeling is if they imagine very rough turbulence in a plane, the sort of turbulence that the air hostess sits down and straps herself in for. It’s much like that, except your house is the plane and there’s no pilot, and there’s no seatbelt signs.
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