In the last 24 hours there have been 23 aftershocks, including "the jolt" as it has become known. The 5.3M quake rocked the city at about 5:49pm last night. Located in Sumner the site of numerous landslides already this 'aftershock' awakened the not very deeply buried fears of Cantabrians.
I was out for dinner with the leaders of the Salvation Army when we watched with fascination, and in apparent slow motion, as the concrete slab outside their lounge room window rose and fell like a bizarre Mexican wave. The garden beds, resplendent with some kind of pink flower, seemed to bow in reverence to the staked roses that alongside them swayed as if hit by a sudden gust of wind.
It seemed like seconds, but must have been almost instantaneously that then the ceiling, the walls, the glass doors and windows seemed to bend and rise, before falling back into place with a thud. The laughter, masking the uncertainty and fear perhaps, followed soon after. Our hearts pounded as the reverberations and shocks continued like rolling thunder.
Ten minutes later another shock, laughably smaller (3.4M), interrupted us as we sat down for roast lamb with mint sauce and roast veggies. Numerous other little shakes interjected their presence into our evening before the last one for the evening (4.1M) signalled the end of the entertainment for the night.
This morning the church was buzzing with bravado: "is that the best the best the Moon Man can do?" "Bring it on, that was a pathetic attempt". But behind the bravery there is still uncertainty and fear.
With the predictions that these aftershocks could go on for years, and the results of recent surveys that say they have found a new fault out into Pegasus Bay which could go any time (raising the fear of tsunami) and of course the Moon Man - this is a city on the edge.
But despite all this there is an desire for community and a atmosphere of ingenuity that gives rise to a tangible hope that like the mythic Phoenix, Christchurch will somehow rise again.
I was out for dinner with the leaders of the Salvation Army when we watched with fascination, and in apparent slow motion, as the concrete slab outside their lounge room window rose and fell like a bizarre Mexican wave. The garden beds, resplendent with some kind of pink flower, seemed to bow in reverence to the staked roses that alongside them swayed as if hit by a sudden gust of wind.
It seemed like seconds, but must have been almost instantaneously that then the ceiling, the walls, the glass doors and windows seemed to bend and rise, before falling back into place with a thud. The laughter, masking the uncertainty and fear perhaps, followed soon after. Our hearts pounded as the reverberations and shocks continued like rolling thunder.
Ten minutes later another shock, laughably smaller (3.4M), interrupted us as we sat down for roast lamb with mint sauce and roast veggies. Numerous other little shakes interjected their presence into our evening before the last one for the evening (4.1M) signalled the end of the entertainment for the night.
This morning the church was buzzing with bravado: "is that the best the best the Moon Man can do?" "Bring it on, that was a pathetic attempt". But behind the bravery there is still uncertainty and fear.
With the predictions that these aftershocks could go on for years, and the results of recent surveys that say they have found a new fault out into Pegasus Bay which could go any time (raising the fear of tsunami) and of course the Moon Man - this is a city on the edge.
But despite all this there is an desire for community and a atmosphere of ingenuity that gives rise to a tangible hope that like the mythic Phoenix, Christchurch will somehow rise again.
