Firsthand Account of 6.3 Christchurch Earthquake

Tuesday started as a normal day in Christchurch, New Zealand. I was doing some errands, posting letters, then headed to one of the big suburban malls. My son was turning 21 the next day and I had a shopping list of items for his birthday dinner. I was browsing through a novelty store with some balloons and a party banner in my hands when a low rumbling sound started.

As everything started to shake I realized it was an aftershock. Having lived through well over 4,000 of these since the Sept. 4 earthquake, I was not too worried to begin with. Then the shaking intensified and people started screaming. I grabbed onto the shelving unit next to me as the floor rose and fell beneath my feet. Then a lighting panel crashed from the ceiling, missing me by inches. It swayed in front of me, suspended by a power cable as I staggered back, trying to keep my footing.

As the shaking subsided, people streamed from stores, crying, shaking, alarms shrieking all around. I dropped my shopping and followed, snapping a few photos as I headed to open air. People were orderly as they headed to their cars, but a big group clustered around the entrance to the mall. A lady was helped out by work colleagues and sat on a stone under a tree. Another woman lay on the floor in a fetal position, sobbing, face covered. My arms and hands were tingling with pins and needles and felt numb and strange.

I stood in the car park trying to text my family but cell phone lines were already jammed. The mall doors were already closed so I walked down the ramp to the underground parking. Water pipes had burst overhead and water sprayed everywhere as car alarms echoed through the air. Traffic was backed up and as I waited in a queue to leave the mall area, another shock hit. I found out later that it was 5.7 in magnitude. I watched in horrified fascination as the gigantic three-story concrete wall to my right bent and waved like a piece of plastic. It's a wonder of modern architecture that it didn't shatter.

Back home the house was in a mess. Speakers had fallen, cupboards were open, the contents of my sewing box were strewn down the stairs, bottles and pictures had fallen. The dogs were subdued and distressed. By this stage my children and husband were all accounted for and safe. I then got a text from my youngest saying her school wouldn't let her out unless she was collected. As I walked across the field at Burnside High School, a 5.5 aftershock hit and the trees, cars and grass undulated in ripples. Pupils milled around with girls red-eyed and clinging to each other and staff trying to organize them into divisions. 4,000 pupils to account for was no laughing matter. I finally got a text to say she was at a friend's house opposite the school.

I was one of the fortunate few to still have power and water connected and watched the nonstop footage on TV for the rest of the day. I mourned for those who died; what a dark day for Christchurch and New Zealand. The destruction in the city centre was immense and devastating and many people were reported as trapped in collapsed buildings.

That night I awoke every 20 to 30 minutes with aftershocks rattling the house. We experienced the same thing after the September earthquake in Christchurch and again I felt my stomach churning as I was jolted awake by violent shaking.

The 6.3 earthquake has caused widespread damage to Christchurch and surroundings and it's going to be a long slow process to rebuild the city. In the meantime helicopters buzz around, rescue workers are pouring in, 80 percent of people do not have water and 40 percent are still without power.