Junglepixiebelize - Recollections of a Gringa Pioneer
Nancy R Koerner - Copyright@2021 - All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"The Earth Is NOT Supposed To Move"
EARTHQUAKE! Flood of adrenaline, heartbeat skyrocketing, eyes darting for safety. Remain inside? Bolt for the outdoors? Earthquake at night? Quick. Hit the switch. Get your bearings…
No light switch. Of course not. We’re in the bush. Total darkness. Find a light. Can’t find a light. The stuff of nightmares. No light. Earthquake! Really? Mind screaming. Denial. Can’t be an earthquake. Yes. Jars rattling, falling over, glass crashing to the floor. Denial. No! My mind screams illogically. We’ve only been in Central America for two weeks! I’d been having a dream. Out on the ocean. Gale-force winds. Boat rocking. I came to half-reality. Where was I? Wooden house on the river. Big Brahma bull got in the yard? Rubbing against the house? No. That would take an elephant. Total blackness. Disorientation. Where’s the flashlight? Matches? Find the matches. Wait. Light a lamp? With a glass chimney? And kerosene? No. We don’t dare. |
Anathema. The earth is not supposed to move. By definition, it is the common denominator upon which all other variables of time and space are measured. It is very meaning of “grounded.” Friends had been concerned. Central America, they’d said, earthquake potential. No worries. Could be in a car accident. Trip and drown in a mud puddle. Hit by a train, struck by lightning. Don’t worry, I’d said. There weren't going to be any earthquakes. (Two weeks… yikes.)
Chaos, darkness, land reverberating and groaning. Shock waves rolling across the river valley. Wood creaking. House trying to tear free of heavy pilings. Rooted in bedrock, right? How rooted? In my mind’s eye, the scene in daylight: undulating ripple-effect across the land. Tectonic plates quarreling to resettle their territories. Rivers, bodies-of-water, tipping and sloshing to re-gain equilibrium.
Flashlight. Inadequate beam. Shining wildly from wall-to-wall. Creak, crash. Flickering black-and-white horror movie. No good. No overview, no guidance. Next move? Staircase in front steep, like a ladder. Equally steep out back. Both wet with dew. Slip with the baby? Will the stairway tear apart? Will the house tear apart?
Pause. Has it stopped? Is it over? How many minutes was that? We’ll not know til we hear from the outside world. Time is never so protracted as during an earthquake. A second is a lifetime.
Six hours later:
"Good morning, Belize!” Seferino Coleman booms over the cheap transistor radio. “This is Radio Belize, la voce de la amistad. And how are all of you dis mawnin’ in this beautiful little jewel of ours?"
"So, many of you in Toledo District and Cayo District had quite a jolt last night, no tru? Well, here in Belize City, we felt only wa jiggle. Minor damage has been reported in the south and west, but no loss of life. The real news is neighboring Guatemala. The epicenter of the earthquake, a hundred miles northeast of Guatemala City, measuring 7.5 on the Richter scale, occurring at 3:00AM, and lasting just over three minutes. Reports of major damage are starting to come in from Guatemala City. Initial estimates are perhaps twenty thousand people dead, and thousands buried in the rubble. Many churches and other buildings of historical importance destroyed or severely damaged. We will have more news on this breaking story as it becomes available. In other news this morning..."
Two days later, Friday, Feb. 6th - 9:30 AM
The terrible rumbling begins again. Heartrate doubles in a single beat. Panic. This time daylight, with visual perspective. Feeling and seeing the room shake. Grab the baby. Head to the front porch. Pause at the railing. Stairway twisting and swaying. How bad will it get? Is this an after-shock? Last night only a warning? My thought hangs limply in the air. Quaking subsides.
Two more aftershocks later that same day. Another on Sunday, another on Monday, another on Tuesday. A month later, two more. After that, I lose track. It isn’t until June that the land loses its restless twitch.
How long is a minute? Depends on which side of the bathroom door you’re on.
Chaos, darkness, land reverberating and groaning. Shock waves rolling across the river valley. Wood creaking. House trying to tear free of heavy pilings. Rooted in bedrock, right? How rooted? In my mind’s eye, the scene in daylight: undulating ripple-effect across the land. Tectonic plates quarreling to resettle their territories. Rivers, bodies-of-water, tipping and sloshing to re-gain equilibrium.
Flashlight. Inadequate beam. Shining wildly from wall-to-wall. Creak, crash. Flickering black-and-white horror movie. No good. No overview, no guidance. Next move? Staircase in front steep, like a ladder. Equally steep out back. Both wet with dew. Slip with the baby? Will the stairway tear apart? Will the house tear apart?
Pause. Has it stopped? Is it over? How many minutes was that? We’ll not know til we hear from the outside world. Time is never so protracted as during an earthquake. A second is a lifetime.
Six hours later:
"Good morning, Belize!” Seferino Coleman booms over the cheap transistor radio. “This is Radio Belize, la voce de la amistad. And how are all of you dis mawnin’ in this beautiful little jewel of ours?"
"So, many of you in Toledo District and Cayo District had quite a jolt last night, no tru? Well, here in Belize City, we felt only wa jiggle. Minor damage has been reported in the south and west, but no loss of life. The real news is neighboring Guatemala. The epicenter of the earthquake, a hundred miles northeast of Guatemala City, measuring 7.5 on the Richter scale, occurring at 3:00AM, and lasting just over three minutes. Reports of major damage are starting to come in from Guatemala City. Initial estimates are perhaps twenty thousand people dead, and thousands buried in the rubble. Many churches and other buildings of historical importance destroyed or severely damaged. We will have more news on this breaking story as it becomes available. In other news this morning..."
Two days later, Friday, Feb. 6th - 9:30 AM
The terrible rumbling begins again. Heartrate doubles in a single beat. Panic. This time daylight, with visual perspective. Feeling and seeing the room shake. Grab the baby. Head to the front porch. Pause at the railing. Stairway twisting and swaying. How bad will it get? Is this an after-shock? Last night only a warning? My thought hangs limply in the air. Quaking subsides.
Two more aftershocks later that same day. Another on Sunday, another on Monday, another on Tuesday. A month later, two more. After that, I lose track. It isn’t until June that the land loses its restless twitch.
How long is a minute? Depends on which side of the bathroom door you’re on.