A Year in Provence

I'm reading in the newspapers that, as early as three weeks ago, animals across China may have sensed that Monday’s earthquake was on its way. The first indication was over in Hubei Province where there were reports of huge amounts of water disappearing from a pond.

Locals in Mianzhu County also feared the worst when thousands of toads poured out onto the city’s streets, zebras at a zoo in Wuhan banged their heads against their enclosure on the day of the earthquake and, just minutes before the huge tremor, dozens of peacocks started screeching.

Meanwhile, in Sichuan itself, the pandas at the world’s most famous reserve in Wolong are confirmed to have survived. But they’re also said to have started acting strangely. If so, that would be consistent with the behaviour of elephants in Sri Lanka and India who screamed and ran for cover right before another natural disaster in 2005.

The point is what can we learn?This week an earthquake hit Sichuan Province in ways far worse than words I could use to describe the lives already lost, the plight ahead for those who somehow managed to survive and the as yet unknown numbers of people who remain buried, waiting to be found.

‘Devastating’, ‘tragic’ and ‘horrific’ are three words that come to mind. But none of these — even when put together — seem adequate or barely sufficient. (I’m pausing right now.) Wondering how to continue. All too aware of the enormous road ahead for the nameless faces left behind. Monday’s earthquake was the first I’ve felt. But, somehow, the confusion of that day and the confusion in the days since are strangely familiar.In the early hours of December 26, 2004 my plane touched down in Indonesia. I was there to interview President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono who, at that time, had just come into office. As usual, my cousin came to meet me at the airport. As we walked to the car, he spoke the words “earthquake”, “national disaster” and “around 300 dead”.

Of course, that turned out to be the morning of the Tsunami. And the “around 300 dead” would multiply into a number that raced well past 200,000. What was supposed to be a quick interview with the President combined with a post-Christmas holiday with my Indonesian family was anything but. The interview didn’t happen. And, suddenly, there seemed little to celebrate.

On the streets, ordinary people walked in between passing cars to ask for money on behalf of the recue and relief effort. Meanwhile, inside homes just like ours, television sets were left on through the day as, hour by hour, the official death toll climbed and climbed. The pictures you saw on the screen didn’t seem real. You felt like you were detached because what we saw in front of us didn’t connect to what we had come to believe was our sense of reality.

But it was very much our personal reality.

My mother was born on the island of Sumatra not far from where the Tsunami hit worst in Aceh. I’d never heard of Aceh before and, now, it’s so clearly embedded in my mind. The deaths. The destruction. Then, like now, not much makes sense. But, then, like now, I’m filled with a familiar feeling. One of hope for the rescue workers who are in Sichuan right now. And one of love for the people they will find.