It’s 4th September 2010. We’re sleeping soundly on the second floor of a large concrete tilt slab home in the countryside near Christchurch. At 4:30am, all hell breaks loose.
There’s a loud, jarring, crashing, wrenching and ripping. It’s as noisy as hell. It’s violent and terrifying all at once. It’s as if a large dog has the house’s throat in its jaws and is shaking the life out of it. I allow myself to roll onto the floor - sheltered by the triangle of strength created by the side of bed. My husband Mac tries to try to get to the doorway, but can’t stay upright.
After a lifetime of 40 seconds it stops.
We grope our way to find shoes. And to find a torch. But the beam only penetrates into the dark a foot or so. In the pitch black, we wonder if the staircase will still be there. It is. And we creep down the stairs clutching the wall for support - as the whole house continues to rock and groan. We find the front door. We open it and quickly shut it again. There’s a wall of stinking, broiling mud heading towards us. My god. We are having a tsunami. But no, it’s the massive pond at the front of the house, once covered with beautiful pink water lilies and home to hundreds of goldfish, which had been sucked backwards into the sump ...
Our house is being destroyed by a 6.8 earthquake.
A faultline went right through the middle of Pat and Mac's home
Looking back, we’ve been through challenging times. But the support and camaraderie of the bowling community through those times has been marvellous.
That support and camaraderie started a few weeks after the 4th September at the opening day of my bowls club – Cashmere. It was a formal affair where the Club President welcomed everyone, thanked them for coming, and made special mention of Mac and I whose house had been destroyed in the recent earthquake. Despite our loss, they were surprised that it was still ‘bowling business as usual’ for us. But we simply needed the friendship and kinship that comes from gathering together.
Supporting and encouraging each other was what the whole of Christchurch discovered.
Christchurch after the earthquakes became this unusual place where people smiled at each other. They asked how you were doing. They chatted to you in the supermarket. At the shops. In the streets. Neighbours who had never met before, suddenly became helpful friends. I found out where to go for a cuppa, and which neighbour was more likely to offer me a glass of wine! That new mutual care was the priceless result of a civil emergency.
Like her, Pat found the neighbour was going to let the earthquake get the best of them
You learned how to cope without water (easy, drink more wine), without sewerage (easy dig a hole in the paddock and just hover over the edge), without make-up (no brainer), without clean clothes every day, with no dishwasher, washing machine, shower (easy, I’m British I can use a flannel like no other).
You learned how to cope with the on-going aftershocks.
There is nothing quite like standing on the mat at the bowling club having just delivered a bowl, and the whole green looks as though a wave has rippled underneath the surface. Of course that is exactly what is happening. It makes you lose balance. It makes you think you have eyesight problems. And you feel, well, wobbly. The street lights sway and the building behind you rattles and shakes. While some people could not cope and fled Christchurch, most stayed and knuckled down for the long repair of the city.
The bowling clubs themselves were hugely affected.
Many bowling clubs in the Christchurch region operating on council land were required to confirm their viability. Councils suddenly found a better us for that land. It forced clubs to consider their future – and grown and strengthen their club – or close. Neighbouring clubs suddenly became more viable and stronger as a result of closures. Greens were no longer absolutely true, so needed remedial work to sort them out.
Yet the nationwide bowls community was there to give support. We knew so many from travelling around the interclub competitions and tournaments. We had travelled throughout the South Island. And lived in Auckland for a year post-earthquake. It was support I never expected, and never realised I needed.
We basically bowled our way through it.
Today, it’s business as usual once more. That mutual concern which the priceless result of a civil emergency is gradually disappearing. But I have my bowling club - in Methven (next to the mid-Canterbury mountains) where we have retired. And I have bowling friends for miles around. I’m okay.
