"Forty days may have passed, but the wounds of Bam's residents are still fresh. Although Bam has recovered and is like a new city, even better than before the earthquake, those wounds will always be there. Material recoveries cannot heal the wounds and scars of the residents's hearts.

Forty days may have passed, but the residents still fear the past earthquake. Forty days have passed, and we see hope in their eyes."

(Excerpted from Jamjam Newspaper in Iran)

Sunlight in an ancient city

The setting sun dyed the sky red in Bam on December 25, 2003. Walking happily on a golden, paved street, Akbar Panjalizadeh felt he was stepping on an exquisite, brightly colored Persian carpet because 11 foreign tourists had checked into his hotel that day. Business wasn't bad at all.

Tomorrow would be Friday (which is considered part of the weekend in Iran). Majid Qavavy, a high school physics teacher in Bam, had taken her two children out of town. Another man named Akbar, who operated a cell phone business in Bam, also took his wife and their two-year-old son to see the ancient castle in the evening. The people in Bam are proud of the remains of the 2,000-year-old castle, an Iranian cultural and tourist center.

Kashavarz Street is located in a remote, poor area of Bam. Sayed Ali, a resident of the street, was carrying fruit he had just bought in bulk to sell at a night market in another town. Ali and his younger brother had come to stay with their older brother in Bam, where they all worked as rental car drivers. However, business was bad in the winter, so Ali decided to sell fruit in the evening to help make ends meet. Nevertheless, he felt this wasn't a good idea, so he planned to go back to his hometown the following day to plan another business.

Fifty-year-old Sanyad Riza Vahidzadah lived across the street from Ali. A devoted Muslim, a leader of the local Vahidzadah family, and a respected member of the community, Sanyad owned a store that sold daily goods to neighbors. The poor could buy on credit in his store. His youngest daughter, Sadiga Vahidzadah, would give birth that night to his fourth grandchild.

Darkness in the city

After the sun had set, the temperature dropped drastically. The streets in Bam became quiet and many tourists returned to Akbar Panjalizadeh's hotel.

Panjalizadeh, 62, used to be an English teacher. After he retired, he opened a hotel and his fluent English allowed him to make friends with many foreign tourists. In the evening, he liked to chat with them on many subjects. He had even celebrated Christmas Eve with his guests on the previous evening.

At 10 p.m., Panjalizadeh was chatting with guests from Germany, Switzerland, France, the United States, and Britain. They were talking about the minor tremors that had happened a few days before. Gavin Sexton from Britain said, "I wonder if there will be a major earthquake in Bam."

"I believe Bam will never be shaken by a major earthquake," Panjalizadeh said proudly. "The historical castle has been in Bam for some 2,000 years. If there had ever been one, you would see nothing now but rubble."

At 11:30 p.m., everyone went to bed. Panjalizadeh left his son to look after the hotel and he went back home. He felt very tired that night, so he fell asleep without eating his supper.

Later that night, Sadiga gave birth to a boy, and her husband named him Mahadi Jalali. Then he went out to celebrate the boy's birth with Sadiga's brothers.

The morning tremors

A little past 4 a.m. the following morning, Sanyad woke up as usual and got ready for his morning prayers. At 5 a.m., an earthquake struck. Tiles began to fall off the roof. Sanyad immediately yelled to Sadiga to bring Mahadi out of the house, which suddenly collapsed the moment they ran out. Sanyad ran across the street to rescue his oldest son and his wife, who had been buried under their crumbled home.

At the same time, Panjalizadeh was awakened by a very loud noise. It sounded like a machine roaring in the sky, and he thought to himself, "I'm a goner!" The noise stopped 10 seconds later and he heard the voices of his family. Shortly after, his son-in-law rescued him from behind a jammed door.

They all ran out onto the street, and all their neighbors also ran out of their homes asking for help. A girl yelled, "My father is buried under the house! Who can help my father? Help!" Another woman shouted, "My husband is buried under the rubble, someone please help!"

The streets in Bam had turned hellish. Panjalizadeh and his son-in-law kept helping their neighbors. Ten minutes after the earthquake, he finally remembered that his son and 11 guests were still at the hotel.

Without shoes, he dashed to the hotel. Because of the rocks and debris, what normally took five minutes turned into thirty minutes. He couldn't believe that it was the same street he had walked back and forth upon for so many years.

He ran to his hotel, but then said to himself, "Wait, my hotel can't be here!" He ran back and forth, passing his hotel three more times. Finally he realized that his hotel had also become a pile of rubble.

"Muhammad!! Muhammad!!" He called out his son's name, and his son replied with a weak whimper. Panjalizadeh couldn't save his son at the moment, so he told his son to hang on while he went to rescue the guests first.

Panjalizadeh went into the rubble from the backdoor and rescued a German couple. Digging with their bare hands, the three of them dug out and rescued eight more people. Unfortunately, Gavin from Britain was found dead, and an American guest passed away on his way to the hospital.

Sanyad's critically injured older son and daughter-in-law were saved after being sent to the hospital. However, he wasn't able to get to the place where his son-in-law and his other sons had gathered to celebrate Mahadi's birth. The earthquake had taken Sanyad's three sons and four sons-in-law. The five-hour-old Mahadi would never get to see his father again.

The smell of death

In the first evening after the earthquake, Panjalizadeh and his family had no place to sleep. Walking barefoot, they found a garden where they built a fire and sat through the night.

As Panjalizadeh watched his one-year-old granddaughter, he recalled that a woman he had pulled out from the rubble was still holding a child. What they were seeing was too much for them--17 corpses lay less than a stone's throw away.

The following day, a friend of Panjalizadeh brought over some bedsheets, blankets, water, and food from Kerman. These made him feel better, even though there weren't enough blankets for all seven people. Not only that, the following two nights got colder and colder.

It seemed like people were dying every hour of the day. Bad news kept coming to him. It felt like a nightmare to him. He felt as though his head were on fire with pain, sorrow, and grief.

On the third day, relief came in from all over. Panjalizadeh felt the warmth and tried to be strong even though corpses still lined the streets. Sometimes he felt he was very fragile because whenever he was on the streets, he would see friends' homes destroyed or friends passing away. He felt as though his heart would explode any minute.

In reality, he had earned enough money before his retirement. Many of his relatives who had emigrated were waiting for him overseas. However, he did not have the heart to leave Bam, especially the hotel that had brought him so many friends and treasured memories.

A distant caress

Still hanging on a broken wall in the ruins of Elementary School #6 was a portrait of an ancient Iranian poet, Sadi. And on the door of a makeshift UN office in a stadium in Bam were his words: "People of the world are like one living body. When one part is in pain, all other parts also ache."

Feeling the pain of others was the reason that international relief supplies poured in. Tzu Chi volunteers arrived three days after the earthquake and carried out simultaneous fact-finding and relief work missions. They handed out daily goods, conducted free clinics, planned for the distribution of 2,500 tons of rice, and drafted plans for building schools and an emergency medical dispatch center.

On January 26, Tzu Chi volunteers met Panjalizadeh at a medical station set up by the Red Crescent Society. While still trying to overcome his grief, he used his fluent English as a volunteer translator for all the international relief teams.

Panjalizadeh brought Tzu Chi volunteers to Kashavarz Street, the poorest and the hardest-hit area in Bam, to carry out free clinics and distribution of relief supplies. He seemed to forget that he was a victim as he accompanied the volunteers from dawn to dusk.

In Bam, the temperature was around 20 degrees Celsius [68；] during the day in January, but at night, temperatures dropped to as low as only five degrees Celsius [41；]. Fortunately, after about a month, the victims became used to living in tents. However, Panjalizadeh was concerned about the summer season which would arrive in two months: the refugees would suffer temperatures as high as 40 degrees Celsius [104；], and also insect bites if they still lived in tents.

"Most women love to cook in their kitchens, but after the earthquake, people eat mostly canned food," observed Panjalizadeh. "Eating like this every day can't be healthy and it will also make people lazy." For over a month, most people could only eat cold canned food, but a few people who were better off could heat their food up over kerosene lamps scavenged from the rubble.

Refugees living in tents had to endure many discomforts: no running water, no electricity, poor sanitation, blowing wind and dust, insect bites, extreme temperature differences between day and night, and hard-to-heal psychological wounds.

Marziyah Kharkhan was rescued from the rubble and has had a hard time getting around since then. What was worse was that after a month, she still couldn't sleep peacefully even after taking sleeping pills; the nightmares caused by the earthquake repeated frequently in her head. Another suffering eight-year-old girl had to get up to use the toilet many times every night.

Wang Chih-hung, deputy superintendent of Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital, sighed and said that these illnesses were not physical. They were psychological traumas--their fear about the earthquake had left a shadow in their minds.

Panjalizadeh's confidence

Many people died on Kashavarz Street. Sanyad's family alone lost 180 members. Many good friends and neighbors who owed him money also died. In addition, his store was reduced to ruins.

Sanyad said, "There's no way to recover these debts, but I'd rather that they were still alive instead and continued to owe me money!"

The death of Sadiga's husband and brothers made Sadiga so upset and weak that she couldn't produce enough milk for her frail baby, Mahadi.

All of Ali's brothers passed away. He felt very sad, but what depressed him most was that he had to look after three orphans. Majid Qavavy, who took her children out of town, survived the earthquake, but her home had become too dangerous to live in. Zainab School, where she taught, had also fallen to pieces with most of its students unaccounted for.

Before the earthquake, everyone had jobs, and families had what they needed; but after they emerged from the haze, many people realized that they had lost families, jobs, and everything else, even hope itself.

While taking Tzu Chi volunteers to survey the disaster areas, Panjalizadeh also pondered the purpose of living. "Do people live to have jobs, families, make money, and have houses to live in?" he wondered. However, he was certain that people could sense the beauty of life only when they had hope.

He refused to hold his head and grieve over his losses like everyone else. He said this was not the end of the world, and he had to do something to remain optimistic. He would not allow himself to cling to his sorrows and worries.

He remembered a story: a man was troubled by the fact that one of his shoes was worn out, but when he saw another person who had lost his foot, the man realized that he should not feel so upset.

Panjalizadeh reminded himself, "For every moment I'm alive, I'll have to think optimistically and remain forever hopeful." He believed that tomorrow would be better than today, and he would continue volunteering to help his people and to keep his spirits up.

"In Islamic culture, we have to have hope. I believe as long as we are alive, we shall have hope!" Panjalizadeh had never thought that any one thing would destroy everything, but the earthquake had occurred and many people had died. Panjalizadeh was grateful to be still alive. "If I had died, I wouldn't have been able to save those nine guests from my hotel. I have to keep myself in the best condition so I can help many more."

Panjalizadeh slowly and progressively continues to adjust his mindset...

Tomorrow will be better

A month after the earthquake, search and rescue had finished. The city may still be in ruins and the refugees may still live in tents, but the whole city has started its journey away from fear of the earthquake.

Iran's social welfare system is very complete, and international relief teams and medical resources from other provinces have also entered Bam. The city's reconstruction plans are under way, and the schools are calling teachers and students back to classes. Residents can register with the government to ask for help to repair their homes. Bulldozers and trucks move on the streets. Yet, when memorial songs are played in the afternoon, we still hear women moaning with grief in their tents.

"When the rubble is cleared away, Bam will improve gradually," says Panjalizadeh. Although the bulldozers kick up a lot of dust into the air as they clean up the streets, he feels that Bam will recover someday.

Tzu Chi volunteers hand out relief supplies in Kashavarz Street, and Ali picks up Sanyad and brings him to come and help. Both of them volunteer to be our driver and guide and to help distribute relief goods to their own people.

The volunteers also gave away their own personal stashes of vitamin pills, powdered milk, ginseng, and other goods to Sadiga, hoping that her baby would become healthy one day, like the recovering city.

Majid, a teacher, came for treatment at the Tzu Chi free clinic. After the earthquake, she sent her two children out of town and now lives in Bam by herself. She doesn't want to leave Bam because she holds sentimental feelings towards the students here; she has decided to stay and help.

One hundred students have been called to temporary classrooms by Majid, but what disheartens her is that in one class, only two of the original 30 students returned. What happened to the rest of the class?

What worries Majid most are the students who have lost one or both of their parents. These lonely students are severely traumatized. During the daytime, they have classmates to accompany them, but once they return to their tents in the evening without their parents, they are psychologically injured again.

Yet many teachers are not better off. During the daytime, they have to teach and counsel their traumatized students. In the evening, they have to take care of their own families, and many of them hang on the edge of physical and mental collapse. Furthermore, they can't receive their salaries regularly like before and most teachers were also earthquake victims. Majid says, "It's impossibly hard for teachers to support others and at the same time support themselves at a time like this."

Many students from School No. 8 became orphans after the earthquake. They like to squeeze into their temporary classrooms in cargo containers and sing the earthquake warning song:

The earthquake won't tell us when it comes.
It makes us frantic.
If we could have been well prepared beforehand
And built our homes stronger and more stable,
We wouldn't have lost our minds,
We wouldn't have lost our minds.

The children's innocence and laughter still linger amidst the aftermath of the earthquake.

Bam is still alive

Panjalizadeh puts on his shoes and stands on his broken home. He describes the scene after the earthquake. "Gavin has gone and this is the electric bicycle he had bought. He planned to take it back to Britain but..."

In Islamic tradition, memorial services are held on the first, third, seventh, and fortieth day after one passes away. On the third day after the earthquake, Panjalizadeh posted photos of the deceased on the hotel door, lit an oil lamp, and hung a piece of cloth that read, "BAM IS STILL ALIVE." It was his memorial to the deceased, and it also signified that light still shone on the city. Bam was still alive.

The other Akbar returns with his wife and child to see the ancient castle again.

They still see the same setting sun, but like other tourists, they cannot go into the ancient castle--they can only see it from a distance.

The tourists argue noisily as they try to find the right spots to take photos of the ancient castle, but the whirs and clicks of their cameras grate on Akbar and his wife. They look at the crumbled castle, and their pride is no longer there. They have also become victims. His wife can't stand it anymore; she turns around and weeps. Akbar takes his wife's hand and they walk home, leaving behind the arguments and noise.

Tzu Chi volunteers go to greet them. Akbar says that he has lived in Bam for seven years and has set down roots here. However, his cell phone business has been destroyed and the entire inventory looted. In the past, the city depended on tourism for a living, but now the ancient castle has been destroyed. It is as sad as losing a loved one in the earthquake. He doesn't know how to live in the future.

His wife holds their child and says with tears in her eyes, "The destruction is permanent. No matter how you rebuild the castle, you can't restore its original appearance. Even if you can, it won't be the same Bam that is in my heart. It's better to just let it lie there permanently so that it can be preserved there forever."

Neither of them have any complaints about the tourists, and they want to thank the international community for the help they have sent to Bam.

The sun still sets right next to the ancient castle, and the soil has buried many dynasties. The ancient castle that has stood for over 2,000 years has collapsed, burying with it thousands of lives. It thus records a permanent historical wound.

First Investigation on Buildings in Bam

By Reynold Shieh
Translated by Lin Sen-shou
Photographs by Yen Lin-chao

On January 22, 2004, which happened to be the Chinese New Year, the second Tzu Chi team arrived in Bam, Iran, after some 20 hours of flights and transfers.

All the buildings around had been completely destroyed. Only a handful of steel girders were left standing among the ruins. Crumbled walls were scattered all over the ground. Rows of white tents along the streets seemed lonely and helpless. There were no dogs or cats on the streets. It was as though the world had come to an end.

This Tzu Chi team had 10 people. Chang Shih-chien, Chen Lien-hua, and I all had building reconstruction experience from the earthquake of September 21, 1999, in Taiwan, so the three of us were responsible for inspecting buildings in Bam. We were depressed by the serious damage to the ancient, 2,000-year-old Bam castle, which once attracted visitors from around the world. The whole city of Bam seemed dead, and we could hardly bear our own grief.

Behrooz Mameminejad and Hashen Aghaiee, two architects from Tehran, joined us in Bam to exchange ideas. Together we inspected some schools, buildings, and a mosque so we could collect information for reconstruction.

Structural weakness in harmony and beauty

The streets of Bam are straight and wide with pine, cypress, willow, and poplar trees on both sides. The trees are clean and beautiful. There are traffic circles at major intersections, and there are no traffic lights.

Except for mosques and government buildings, all other buildings were single-story. Traditional-styled roofs were dome-shaped, with windows and doors in vaulted or oval shapes. The architecture reflected Persian tastes and Islamic styles. All the outer walls were built with yellowish-brown mud or hollow bricks covered with ceramic tiles. The effect was harmonious and beautiful. With the desert as a backdrop, the buildings were like artworks on land.

However, why did the earthquake destroy over 80 percent of the buildings in Bam? Here are some initial findings.

Buildings in Bam were usually built with bricks and cement, but the brick kilns didn't bake the bricks long enough to completely harden them. Furthermore, the cement was of poor quality and not enough was used. Even though some buildings had steel mesh, the wires weren't wound tightly enough. Buildings from an earlier time had domed roofs and newer buildings had flat roofs. However, residents applied as much as 50 centimeters [19 inches] of bricks and cement on the roofs to shield their homes from the heat, thus making their homes heavy on the top and light on the bottom. Also, the brick walls were not supported by concrete in any way. The structural supports weren't sufficient, so the earthquake easily toppled them.

There were also other weaknesses: the foundations were too shallow so steel beams toppled easily; the steel frames were too thin to support the buildings; welding points were done without serious attention; the poor-quality concrete that was applied couldn't hold the steel and steel wires together; the steel was in direct contact with bricks, so when the earthquake occurred, the bricks were destroyed by the steel. That was why we saw houses that had completely collapsed while the steel was still standing. Only some mosques that met strict standards for construction and materials withstood the earthquake.

Lotus in the desert

After seeing the catastrophe in Bam, we were unable to describe the pain in our hearts.

We came to a girls' school where over 10 teachers and 124 students were squeezed into five little cargo container classrooms. When we said, "Salamon (Hello)" to the students, they swarmed us passionately and asked for our autographs. We had suddenly become celebrities, and we signed so many autographs that our arms went numb.

As we took out candy and pencils, the students immediately formed into lines to receive them. The girls had colorful headscarves, their clothes were clean, and they were full of enthusiasm. Their smiles looked like little lotus flowers in the desert...

The agony I felt from the past few days suddenly disappeared.

Later we saw students riding bicycles, playing with toys, reading books aloud, and laughing on the streets. Their laughter pierced through fallen homes and the sadness in the adults' hearts and brought life back to Bam.

I felt that the hope and future of these people would be inspired by these children. Bam, which had seemed like hell, suddenly became radiant.

Our relief distribution, free clinics, and school inspections lasted from January 21 to February 8. On the evening when we left the city, I saw a cute child playing on a swing in the ruins. I believe Bam will revive soon.

The First Spring after the Earthquake

By Hsu Hsi-man
Excerpted and Translated by Lin Sen-shou
Photographs by Yen Lin-chao

March 20, 2004, was New Year's Day in the Islamic Year 1393 in Iran.

A huge snowstorm in Tehran in northern Iran shut down the airport. However, the temperature in Bam in southern Iran was over 30 degrees Celsius [86；], and sandstorms blew in from time to time, circling around the earthquake-damaged city.

This was the first spring in Bam after the earthquake. Two months after the earthquake, before the Islamic New Year, Tzu Chi volunteers visited Bam for the third time. They held free clinics, investigated the possibilities of rebuilding eight local schools and one emergency dispatch center, and distributed 2,500 tons of white rice from Taiwan.

On March 11, the volunteers borrowed Narjasinyan Girls' School in Bam for a relief distribution, where they handed out 70 tons of rice to over 1,000 families. However, since there was too much rice to be distributed at too many places before the Islamic New Year, and since the volunteers had to leave before then or they wouldn't be able to get on another plane for two weeks, the volunteers turned over the rest of the rice to the Red Crescent Society, which with all their manpower would be able to hand out all the rice to the refugees within a short time.