Hell, and hope, in Christchurch

It seems unreal to sit here at my laptop and be able to write when only on Tuesday it seemed like the end of the world, writes Irene McDonnell from Christchurch. There is no need for me to tell you about it, the pictures on the news I am sure you will have seen at this stage.

For each and every person still alive they will never, ever forget those terrifying hours but we are alive to tell, emotionally shattered, but with a glimmer of hope in our hearts to go on and help each other in any little way we can.

This time last Saturday, Peter and I were so happy for the boys in their new flat, getting them settled in, buying bargains for them on Trade Me to make their new home, Chris was so excited to have moved out of home for the first time, and Alex after all those months finally had space for his few things.

I was at work in the surgery on Tuesday morning, on the phone to a patient when I was thrown out of my chair by the first violent shake. Our building jumped and shook and collapsed and we clambered out over the devastation, stunned and bruised but alive.

The horror outside then started as the quakes continued. The road split and brown liquid started spouting up everywhere in front of us while liquid seeped up like blood from under us and through the building. I thought we would drown and knew that this was a big one but had no idea where the epicentre was. Where were my darlings ... were they alive ... was it all ending in front of my eyes? Cars crashed and buildings groaned and collapsed and the predominant sound was crying and sirens.

Dust was everywhere so I couldn’t see my hills in the distance where my home was. I didn’t know then I was so close to the centre of the quake. People appeared with wounded and we salvaged some bandages to help what we could, but couldn’t go in our building. No word from Peter but finally a text from Chris -- he was alive. I left on foot to get to him, wading through the water along with so many others. Destruction all around us, horrific is the only word I can use.

Three hours later I got home. Peter had spent the same time searching for me. Alex on the other side of town set off towards us too, but as the cell phone towers were down we couldn’t get each other. Just to be alive together was the greatest gift I have ever been given.

Chris managed to get to the house first, the dogs were inside in the devastation, so traumatized, but he tied them up outside and came back for me, warning me to expect the worst. Our lovely home broken and battered, the foundations snapped. Although we can go inside, the outside is destroyed and we can't safely stay here. Sockets have popped out of the walls and the cracks in ceilings and walls are in the thousands of dollars to repair.

We retrieved next day what we could and had a builder and structural engineer to look quickly. But when we can do anything about it to have it fixed is now the question? So much destroyed everywhere.

Luckily we could move in with Chris and Alex, and although we have no water or toilet we do have electricity since Thursday. The ironic thing is our phone works in the house and so does the internet. However, because of so much damage to the cell phone towers, they have asked people to only text and conserve as much as possible for those that really need the coverage.

It is like a war zone in many areas but the outer suburbs are fine in some areas. Not ours, unfortunately. For example, yesterday we queued for several hours for groceries in a line from the entrance to the supermarket to the checkout, and the same again waiting outside to get in. There was an aftershock while waiting and the faces of shock and terror are soul-destroying but you just freeze and pray silently. Then there is a sense of elation as you come out with your goodies, like Christmas.

Yesterday the army came with tanks of water and we could stock up and so wash our hands; you have no idea these little things mean so much.

People with families have fled and so many people and organisations are doing trojan work to help and keep spirits up. We all go through our moments of despair. It is stressful, but we have to stick together and when I give up with the fear of the future the boys seem to put me back on track. We pray we don’t get another big aftershock, so many still missing and heartbreaking when you know some of them who were people you had dinner with and fun, and all you can see or think about is them maybe still alive, buried under the rubble.

Yesterday (and today) Alex is out helping others stack bricks and take down damaged walls. We had a bad aftershock yesterday evening and when I texted to see if he was alright I got no reply, then you lose it. We searched for him, asking people in the area to no avail. So maybe you can see the importance of that text to say "Hey Mum, so sorry to have missed your text. Am not there now but a street further up and I have a bottle of water ... on way home".

In moments of anguish I wonder what is the lesson we are to learn from all this, the needless death of little babies, where do we go from here? There are no jobs, no money, no homes for so many. You can't just pack up and go. Yes, some can and will but we have to get up as humans do, and try to make the best of it.

NOTE: Irene grew up in Kilcullen and is Niall McDonnell's sister. She was also caught in the previous earthquake in Christchurch.