The major earthquake that occurred at Chichi, central Taiwan, on September 21, 1999, was the most destructive catastrophe to hit the island in over a century. Countless buildings, like the Tunghsing Building in Taipei shown here, collapsed in the earthquake.

Nevertheless, the huge shake also stirred up the determination of the Taiwanese people to help each other out. Assistance from everywhere converged at the disaster areas with amazing speed. Now only love can give people enough courage to heal the enormous wounds.

Leaving the bustling Tzu Chi Taichung branch office behind us, our car raced down the highway in the direction of Tungshih, Taichung County. Before long our car suddenly slowed, and as we took a turn, all kinds of obstacles began to appear on the road. Urgent, high-pitched whistles pierced the darkness. Our headlights lit up the fluorescent vests and flickering traffic control batons of military and police personnel. Following their directions, we drove on the opposite lane to bypass closed sections of the road that were too dangerously damaged to cross. The tension and chaos seemed more fitting to a country preparing for war. Our hearts began to sink in grave anticipation of the scenes that awaited us.

A dead city in the darkness of night

Only one lane of Shihfung Road, the road that leads into Tungshih, had been cleared that day (September 22). In the darkness of the night, we had to rely on the searchlights mounted on the car roof to see around us. Dust swirled in the light beams. Shadowy houses along the road, normally filled with light and people, now stood in deadly silence. We drove on for ten minutes, twenty minutes, or even longer, but saw no signs of people. Life seemed to have vanished from the entire area. Rescue vehicles and television trucks were the only moving things to be seen anywhere. But where were all the people? Where had they gone?

Now and then, we came across brightly lit sites where rescue workers battled against Death to save lives. The twisted structures of collapsed buildings jutted out into the vast darkness. I felt as if I wanted to shake myself awake from an unreal nightmare.

I don't know how long we went on travelling in the darkness. Our car climbed across buckled Chungfeng Bridge and landed with a thump. My heart tightened again as I realized that we had reached our destination, Tungshih. My official duty here was to report on the disaster area, but I really did not know what I hoped to accomplish. More tragic disaster stories that would move the readers to tears? Or analysis and comments regarding the situation? Both seemed petty and absurd. Deep inside, all I wanted was to get closer to the victims and see what I could do for them, if there was anything I could do to help. So I left my contradictions to themselves and entered the mountain town with a blank heart.

Survivors in the dark

Have you ever been to Tungshih? It used to be a flourishing mountain town with a population of twenty thousand. Vehicles heading for Tahsueh Mountain all stopped here for fuel and food before entering the mountain areas. Now, the town was dead. People--living people--all gathered in temporary shelters set up on open ground. I did not want to disturb them, so I walked quietly around the playgrounds of Tungshih Junior High School and Tungshih Elementary School. The fields were crowded with people and cars, but the noises that usually go with large crowds of people could not be heard. Sporadic news reports from car radios were the only sounds that countered the somber darkness caused by the massive power blackout.

The survivors mostly wore blank expressions, as if they had not yet recovered from the great shock. An old lady sat quietly in front of a classroom desk with a blanket wrapped around her--her family was still waiting for their allotment of tents and sleeping bags. Under a bicycle shed slept a family, the mother's arms circling the father's body. Was it because of the cold weather? Or did she have to do so to sleep well? Innocent children frolicked, not realizing what had happened. Among the few household items retrieved from the rubble was a pile of comic books. Some distance away was a couple that had apparently just arrived from out of town. With a flashlight, they were searching anxiously for their relatives. But how would they ever find them among the crowds on that huge playing field?

The dirge

The painful memories that I was afraid to stir up were quickly pieced together through the rapid stories of high-school girls, the blunt language of sleepless old women and the sparse words of expressionless, middle-aged men. Most residents were willing to share their memories of those eighty seconds with someone who showed enough concern. Hidden under their simple accounts were chaotic emotions that needed to be heard and soothed. Their immense fear needed to be released and understood. Slowly, I was able to comprehend the undertone of enormous pain contained in the plain words, and I saw that the profound pain was gradually forming into a collective memory. Buildings can be reconstructed and a rebuilt town may be better planned and more beautiful than before. But the dire memory of losing four hundred lives in one night will be forever etched in the minds of the residents, a dirge that will linger on--audible perhaps to all the people of Taiwan.

“I'm so scared!”

We went back to Taichung to spend the night there. At six o'clock the next morning, we returned to Tungshih. A Tzu Chi member, Sister Chang Pi-chu, was headed for Hsinshe Village, so I decided to go with her. We relied on local residents to show us the way to that remote mountain village. The villagers were used to being ignored and had silently borne the terror of the quake alone. So, when we suddenly appeared before them and offered help and comfort, tears drawn forth by the unexpected warmth welled up in their eyes.

We came to some houses beside the village elementary school to distribute relief goods and to see what else the residents needed. Just as we got there, a violent aftershock struck, causing a house that was already showing cracks in the walls to tremble with frightening noises. Our hearts were still beating wildly when a loud voice exploded, "I'm so scared!" Chung Kui-mei, an old woman in her sixties, burst into tears and repeatedly cried, “I'm so scared, I'm so scared!”

Her cracked sobs echoed under the blue sky and saddened everyone. Sister Pi-chu held her in her arms and let her cry. Yes, cry! Cry for those who were unable to cry, who could not cry, dared not cry, and would not cry. Only after we have cried it all out will we have the strength to face reality. Look at the dragonflies flying over the green grass. Aren't they beautiful?

Unselfishness in Poai Village

After delivering all the relief items in the village, we hurried back to Tungshih, where the car was reloaded with more relief items. Then we set out again, this time to Pahsien Mountain. No one knew what condition the roads were in and how far we could get, so we had to improvise as we drove along. Where the main road was blocked, we took the old road. Where the road on one side of the river was impassable, we detoured to the other bank and crossed back at the next bridge. The mountains looked as if they had been shaved--trees had disappeared and only the yellow earth underneath was visible. At some places, half the mountaintop had fallen into the river valley and yellow dust still hung in the air. We finally found the logging road where the person who had gone to Tungshih to ask for help had directed us, but we could not go further than Poai Village. The villagers there told us that the road originally went on for another six miles, but that it was now impassable. They had been able to reach Pahsien Mountain, but only by trekking across a mountain ridge. They had wanted to carry some sick elderly people back down, but the way was dangerous and they couldn't guarantee their safety, so the old folks stayed there.

We unloaded all the food and medicine from our car and the kind villagers promised to take it all up to the isolated mountaintop village. Here in the deep mountains, mutual help was spontaneous and natural, and an act of giving and receiving did not involve unnecessary consideration and hesitation. I, a city slicker from Taipei, felt embarrassed and afraid that a display of admiration for them would be too shallow. I left the place with a full load of respect and lessons learnt.

Afternoon in the morgue

Before leaving Tungshih, I decided to go to the temporary morgue at the forestry office in Tahsueh Mountain. I had no particular reason--I just felt I should go there to pay my respects. Most of the bodies in the morgue had been well cared for. Some of the deceased who had been identified were already cremated. Those that had not yet been cremated or coffined were put into body bags and placed in refrigerated containers. There were still large blocks of ice in the morgue, now mainly sitting beside the only two bodies still unidentified, an eight-year-old boy and a woman. Blood mingled with ice water and spread in narrow streaks. Reflecting the blue canvas above, the streaks turned black.

Soldiers passed body bags up to Tzu Chi volunteers standing in the refrigerated containers. The volunteers laid down the bodies in orderly fashion, showing due respect for the deceased. At another corner, several Tzu Chi women helped families of the deceased to clean and dress the bodies. I heard that an elderly couple killed in the earthquake were crushed so badly that their intestines were exposed, and their children did not know what to do. The Tzu Chi women used plastic bags to replace the intestines, and then they cleaned and dressed the bodies of the elderly couple and put them into coffins.

Here was the end and the beginning of everything. People who lost their loved ones have to learn to let go of the past and look ahead. I pray that all of them will be able to walk with determined stride on their future paths.

It is now Saturday morning, September 25, and I am back in my Taipei office. Strangely, the phone isn't ringing with reminders about deadlines for articles. As I begin to relax toward the completion of this article, I suddenly realize the significance of my visit. It has allowed me to glimpse the silver lining of the catastrophe. That one minute of violence rekindled the still unextinguished spark of human warmth that had long lain dormant under the indifferent facade of the Taiwanese people. Caring for the quake victims is not just a simple matter of charity. It arises out of the instincts and strong emotional needs of each one of us.

I remember a village we passed on our way back (on September 23). In that one village alone, thirty people had died in the earthquake, but no formal assistance had arrived yet. However, a man at the village square was distributing a carload of food, water and daily necessities. He told us shyly that as soon as he heard the news of the earthquake, he immediately purchased the goods and drove from Tainan (in southern Taiwan) to deliver them to his fellow countrymen. It is this power, this simple power to love that will heal the wounds of the earth, soothe the pain in our hearts, and give us the courage to continue living and working on this land.

The September 21 Earthquake

A massive earthquake struck Chichi, Central Taiwan, at 1:47 a.m. September 21, 1999. The epicenter was located at latitude 23.85° N and longitude 120.78° E, 12.5 kilometers west-southwest of the famously scenic Sun Moon Lake. The quake had a magnitude of 7.3 on the Richter scale and occurred at a depth of 1.1 kilometers.

Earthquakes occur frequently in areas where the Eurasian Plate and Philippine Sea Plate collide. The September 21 earthquake was caused when the Philippine Sea plate pushed against the Tamaopu-Shuangtung fault, sending quakes that raised the parallel Chelungpu fault. The entire Chelungpu fault rose one to two meters along the eastern part of the Taichung Basin. In some regions, the fault rose four to five meters. The number of casualties was highest in Tangtzu, Taiping, Tali, Wufung, Tsaotun, Mingchien and Chushan, all areas that the fault passed through.

Faults

When tectonic plates collide, the powerful pressure causes the rock strata to rupture. Adjacent blocks of rock then slip against each other horizontally or vertically, creating different types of faults.

Types of Faults

NORMAL FAULT

Due to tensional forces, the rock on the higher side of the fault (the hanging wall) moves down against the other side (the foot wall).

STRIKE-SLIP FAULT

The rock on one side of the fault slides horizontally past the other.

REVERSE FAULT

Due to forces that compress the earth's crust, the hanging wall moves up and the foot wall moves down. The epicenter of the Chichi earthquake was located at such a fault.