Rebuilding the city (and yourself)

Christchurch. A city in trauma since the devastating earthquakes in September 2010 and February 2011. The city will never be the same. It was rattled with significant force, rattled to its core. 185 people have lost their lives alongside numerous animals. In my recent visit, I walked around the CBD, deeply touched by the still very visible signs of devastation. I got a glimpse of what it must feel like to walk through a war zone.

The soldier who has survived his recent deployment. The woman who has come out of her abusive relationship. The teenager who has experienced sexual abuse, perpetrated by the father. The little boy who has seen his mum being beaten up and eventually got hit as well. Different stories and yet, these people are all caught in their personal trauma. Once again, hearing their stories reminds me of walking through a war zone. I can't see it, I can't smell it, I can't touch it, but there it is. Shattered minds. Broken feelings. Panic and desperation and anger wherever I look.

There is something that amazed me about Christchurch. (There was more than one thing, but I am trying to stay focussed.) Christchurch was oh so full of life. Full of creativity. Full of people who are picking up the pieces, turning them this way and that, and then making something new and unexpected with it. In others words, Christchurch was full of hope:

I found this mural next to Countdown close to the CBD. Next to boarded up buildings. Next to cracks in the walls or the footpaths. “Our vision for the future is hope.” I saw wonderfully graffitied walls in the CBD. A new mall, made out of shipping containers. Life, everywhere I looked. I felt the panic and desperation and anger and yet, it was as if the city was looking at me with bright eyes, exclaiming: “Yes, it's been hard and yes, I still cry and scream, and yet, I am life! Enjoy me. Explore me. Be alive in and with me!”
I stopped. I looked around. I listened. Breathed. Waited. Listened some more. I thought about how trauma throws a town, a person into a state of shock. And yet, this is not where it stops. Yes, trauma carries risks. And trauma carries possibilities. The chance to learn. To try something different. To be creative. To grow. To hope.

Trauma tears a soul apart.
Pieces, lying on the ground, desperate to be put back together.
The soul tries so hard to be whole once more.
And there is hope.
There is always hope.
She will never be the same again.
She will always carry scars, some visible, some invisible.
And she carries beauty.
She will always carry beauty.
Amongst all these scars, there are flickers of who she once was.
Who she still is and can be again.
Trauma tears a soul apart.
But there is always hope.

~ Kathrin Marks, 18th of July 2013 ~