Are the walls moving?

It was my first earthquake. In the first seconds it seemed a large vehicle was driving past our office building, but the more the office shook, the more the realisation dawned that the earth was moving under our feet and the walls and ceiling around our heads. There was nothing man-made about it. My colleagues and I walked out into the street, to find that our neighbours in this residential district had done the same. Some were very affected by the tremors, wailing uncontrollably. Night had already fallen (the earthquake hit at twenty to seven in the evening) and suddenly many lights went out and lightning struck. The fear in people’s hearts amplified as many devoutly Catholic Peruvians instinctively attached great significance to the events.

Mobile and landline networks were quickly overwhelmed. Twenty minutes went by before colleagues were able to get in touch with loved ones. Older colleagues were saying it was the strongest and most protracted tremor they had ever felt in Lima, guessing that it must be greater than Richter magnitude 6. In 1970 an earthquake killed an estimated 50,000 people in Yungay, to the north of Lima. Getting home proved difficult. Traffic was backed up and taxis willing to tackle it hard to find. Queues were forming at public payphones as people struggled to contact family around the country. Initial panic had evolved into controlled tension. Back at my apartment building, few wanted to return to their abodes for fear of aftershocks.

The first tremor is always the worst, I told myself, and strode up the stairs, outwardly confident, to my eleventh floor home. Various objects had fallen from shelves, the kitchen floor was inexplicably drenched in a pool of water and a patch of shoddy plastering outside the rear door had crumbled to the floor. Not more than two hours after the first shock wave BBC World was already broadcasting video footage of the quake in Lima. Magnitude 7.9 was being reported by the US Geological Survey. (Since upgraded to 8.)

I left the back door open as I dried the kitchen only to see my neighbours on their way out, packed bag in hand, to spend the night with family, uncomfortable at the thought of being so high up. My initial fortitude in the face of Mother Nature was starting to slip. The first significant aftershock struck at around eleven twenty, causing me to bolt from my bed, grab my shoes and head for the door. Either previous Peruvian experience would have forced them to design earthquake-resistant buildings, or the cost-conscious contractor might have cut corners in construction. Ignorant of which might be the more accurate, I was taking no chances. But the swaying quickly subsided.

Very sadly the relatively low casualty rate being reported late that night had been revised upwards significantly by the early hours of the morning and still further in the early afternoon. As I write, a day and a half later, estimates are that more than 500 are dead. Many thousands have lost their homes, mainly in the areas surrounding Pisco to the south of Lima where mud brick is commonly used in construction. A significant amount of help is needed with hospitals operating without power, bodies lining the streets and aid struggling to travel down the ruptured Panamerican Highway. Speed of response is critical in these situations. Let us hope it arrives in time for those in need.