Off the Sphincter Scale

I took a walk through the rubble strewn streets of my neighbourhood. I encountered people huddled in doorways and on street kerbs with their blankets. Some people had outstretched hands looking for a few pesos to help alleviate their sad situation. It was starting to get dark but children's voices could still be heard. Dogs barked wildly only to be outshouted by the screams of ambulance and fire engine sirens. Breezes caught debris and rubbish and it blew what it could about the streets. It's a desperate time and Santiago is a desperate city.

Yes, my neighbourhood is a shithole. That was Friday. Then to make matters worse, we have an earthquake!

The vast majority of Santiago is a complete eyesore. And, again. I'm talking pre-Earthquake 8.8. Post-quake, it's a little difficult to discern what is actual damage and what is just the natural state of this ugly city.


I went to bed late. So when the room shook at 3.30 Saturday morning I had only been asleep about 90 minutes. I'm a very light sleeper; it's my ninja training. I've been woken by tremors before. So when I first woke, I contemplated riding it out. That decision was soon scrapped as the shaking escalated and wine glasses crashed to the floor. My instincts told me to stand in a doorway. I chose my apartment door. What I didn't choose, or rather what I forgot to do was put some clothes on! It's still summer and well, I like to sleep naked. Steady ladies!

My apartment is so small that most things are in reaching distance. I grabbed some pants. Although the electricity had long deserted us, the building's back up generator still allowed all the corridors to be lit. 30 metres down the hallway, standing in the doorway directly opposite mine was a young Chilean woman crying and hanging on for dear life. It was only then that I realised the magnitude of the quake. Her end of the building was visibly swaying. She was terrified and alone. Her boyfriend was in Venezuela.

Conflicting reports put the quake at anything between 90 seconds and two minutes. It felt like more. Foolishly, I had expected that to be the end of it. After all, when there's a tremor, that's it. It wasn't. Aftershocks or replicas as they call them here, continued. It's a strange sensation when the rumbles begin and everything in your body tenses up.

It was the middle of the night and there was no electricity. There was water and gas though. I found some candles and a transistor radio and did what any well trained individual would do in such a situation.....I made a cup of tea.

Luckily, I had used my doorway as protection. The quake had been strong enough to contort doorways. Those who had opened their doors during the quake could not now close them and those that were not opened were jammed shut.

Well, that was the quake through my weary eyes. Coming soon: observations.