Earthquake

I am lucky to live in a city that hosts a Poetry festival every other year. I attended a few sessions, each of them thought provoking and touching in different ways. A few years ago, one of the poets featured, whose name escapes me now, also a presenter for BBC4, introduced a form of autobiographical poetry in which he'd essentially tell us a certain story of his life and then somehow, from anecdote, the poem would become something deeper and universal.

I think I was already thinking of finding a way of making sense of the major events of my life( this was before I stumbled on the format of this blog) and I tried to do the same as this poet. I did not get to the "something deeper" stage but I thought it might be interesting to contrast the different perspectives, that of an adult and a child, about an event from my early childhood, an earthquake that killed over 1500 people in Romania, most of them from Bucharest with another 11,000 injured.

The images I used here are historic images from the center of Bucharest, credit belongs to the owner. I have no personal images from this event.

My father later told me how he lived the event: the marking he was doing as the teacher that evening, the sudden change to sheer, end-of-the-world-terror that made my parents considered jumping with two young children from the second floor of the block of flats in the hope that the trees around it might break our fall and we could survive when the alternative seemed to be the whole house collapsing on top of us. The stairs are often the most vulnerable part of a house in the case of an earthquake and, indeed, many of the victims were trapped by the falling stairs. Thankfully, my parents decided against jumping and got out the usual way and the stairs held on.
The earthquake took place at 9.22pm. My parents stayed out that night along with most people in the country, and, even, neighbouring countries fearing aftershocks. In those days before mobile phones and with land lines out of reach, people, including our relatives and friends from the area, would come on foot in the middle of the night to check on each other, not knowing what they would find once they got there. It was a terrible night.

Meanwhile, protected by the innocence of early childhood, I had a jolly good time, like it was a night party . Along with a few of our neighbours’ children, my brother and I were packed in my dad’s Dacia and driven to a nearby school yard, away from the buildings from where debris might fall . Us children spent the night in the car giggling and chatting before falling asleep.

Here are the two poems.

The Tremor

That spring night - full moon, kids asleep
A film on TV, some tests left to mark.
What is this?! A thunder from deep
Shaking and breaking- then sudden dark.

The tremor! Stronger and stronger!
The children! We must get them out!
Shall we jump? Just how much longer?
Has it stopped? Run now, all out!
No, wait! Come back! Outside it’s so cold!
Get coats, boots, socks and hats
The car keys, a blanket to hold

We all must get out of the flats!
The neighbours rush down in a stream,
Clutching their treasures and fears
Who made it? Do I hear a scream?
Pray that everyone appears.

Let’s load the kids in the car
And drive just far enough, to be clear.
When can we go back? It’s bizarre-
The silence, the waiting, the fear.

They stand in silence, cold and still
Placing their hopes in God’s own will.

And my impression of the event:

But Why?

I am so tired—I might just weep.
Why would you make me leap
Out of my bed, so soft and deep,
And from beneath this cozy heap?
And you wake up Cornel too!
He only slept like a minute or two!
But why?
Go outside? What? Right now?
Why would you even allow?
Everyone’s out?! Oh wow!
But why?
Oh look—Miha and Angela are here,
Ozana and Dana, Anda is near!
But why?
In the car? All of us?
It’s like a mini children bus!
Like Dad drives on the schoolyard ground—
Everyone’s out in this mad town!
But why?
“I love your jammies!”
“Shall we go to the granny’s?”
“You lost a sock and a shoe!”
“They’re probably near the bloc’s front, too!”
“Do I feel anything prickle?”
“Don’t tickle!”
“Where is my earring, then?”
“What's in your pocket!”, ” A pen.”
“That’s funny, but I really need to go!”
“Can’t wait till tomorrow?”
“Go then, in the bush!”
“Shush!”
“I like it tonight!”
“i’m scared”
“Parents are there,
it’s alright!”
"I think we should sleep."
"We’re quite a heap—
Buried deep under coats."
"Our mums are really close."
"Sleep tight!
Don’t let the bed bugs bite"
"Oh, no, I don't want any bug!”
“Don’t be silly, have a hug”
G’night!
Nighty night!

So much loss that night! So much potential, talent, promise, wiped out in that fateful minute.

My family and I were among the lucky ones.