It was an ordinary night. Most people slept soundly until 1:47 a.m., when the Earth Bull decided to stretch out a bit right below Nantou County in central Taiwan. Half of the island went pitch-dark as the earth trembled for what seemed like a century.

Living in Taipei, the capital city of Taiwan, normally unaffected by disasters, we were singularly ill prepared for disaster: one flashlight with no batteries, but plenty of candles. We sat in our candlelit living room in uneasy suspense, still shaking and wondering when the aftershocks would come. Then they struck--twice--powerfully and unnervingly. The Earth Bull made sure that it would be a long, sleepless night for everyone.

That bullish stretch became known as the "Great Earthquake of September 21," the biggest seismic movement to affect Taiwan in more than a century. Measuring 7.3 on the Richter scale, the quake caused the deaths of over two thousand people and the collapse of six thousand buildings, leaving more than one hundred thousand people homeless. The worst hit areas were Nantou County and Taichung County in central Taiwan, where whole townships and villages were completely destroyed. In northern Taiwan, Taipei City and County were the most affected areas, where apartment buildings collapsed on themselves, killing and trapping many residents. There have been over ten thousand aftershocks, but they have caused minor damage compared to the initial temblor.

Of course, all these statistics were compiled afterwards. That night, sitting there in our dimly-lit living room, we were completely in the dark. The first information we had came from our next-door neighbor, who called and recounted what she had heard on the radio, one hour and two aftershocks after the first quake. So far, all they knew was that houses had collapsed and many had died, not only near the epicenter in Nantou, but even in Taipei. Authorities warned of more aftershocks of considerable magnitude.

That was when it hit me: this time it was not just going to go away. It was not one of those earthquakes that you joked about the next morning at work or at school, after which you still slept soundly at night. This event was going to have consequences that would resonate long afterwards. Peaceful slumber became an impossible luxury.

The awakening

Finally, morning broke. When electricity was partially restored, we saw from TV news footage how our beautiful island had been wrenched out of shape. It didn't really bother anyone when the electricity went out again. Lights, air conditioners, refrigerators, elevators and traffic lights functioned only intermittently. But such inconveniences seemed unimportant in comparison with what the less fortunate had suffered. Family members, life savings and countless memories were buried under the debris that used to be homes. Living in temporary shelters and relying on donated daily supplies, victims had so little to look forward to and so much to worry about. Seeing them, one finally learned to be thankful. But why did it have to come at such a great cost?

In the aftermath of the unkind blow delivered by nature, Taiwan witnessed the kindness of many. Local and foreign rescue team members risked their own safety to search for possible survivors in the rubble even during the constant aftershocks. Physicians and nurses rushed to treat the wounded in makeshift medical stations. Charity workers comforted the living and arranged for a dignified ending for the deceased. Individual volunteers entered the disaster areas to offer their help and to deliver much needed supplies to isolated areas. The army engineer corps removed the rubble of toppled houses to quicken the search for survivors and cleared away fallen rocks from roads to restore traffic. And donors from both Taiwan and the international community gave money or necessary supplies when they were unable to participate personally in the actual rescue efforts. It is a sad fact, but it usually takes a crisis to stir up the compassion buried inside many hearts. A disaster of great magnitude proves to be more effective than any propaganda or fund-raising efforts.

What next?

The horrible thing about a disaster is that it not only destroys material things, such as loved ones, property or life savings, but also immaterial things, such as a psychological sense of security. Everything you have can be lost with one unkind blow of nature. People you love dearly can be separated from you forever in just a few seconds. The concept of impermanence, which generations of religious leaders and philosophers have tried to teach us, is suddenly learned. If I, who lost nothing concrete in the calamity, feel such a real sense of insecurity, how must the people who have experienced the worst feel? What are they to do when there is nothing they can fall back on? How will life ever return to normal?

As search-and-rescue and emergency relief efforts come to an end, long-term reconstruction and rehabilitation have begun. Both government and private organizations have constructed temporary housing for victims made homeless by the earthquake. Government relief payments have been distributed to those whose homes have collapsed or been severely damaged. Favorable monetary policies to help quake-stricken victims reconstruct their homes and lives have been promulgated. Public facilities and properties are being restored and rebuilt. Schools destroyed in the earthquake are being reconstructed while students have been transferred to schools in less affected areas. Trust funds have been set up for orphaned children, who will be taken in by carefully selected foster homes. All these are concrete measures that help give the survivors a future they can still look forward to.

Another important work is treatment of traumatized minds. Many survivors still suffer from insomnia, shock and depression caused by the memory of that terrible night. Search-and-rescue workers, firemen and soldiers who witnessed the most appalling scenes in the disaster areas will also need psychological counseling. For some of them, patient listening, group sessions and warm care will help them recover. For others, it may take much longer to walk out from the shadowy corners of grief and despair. Rehabilitation of the mind will be as long-term an effort as reconstruction of the land.

A great disaster always leaves a deep impression. For me, it is an indelible experience I hope never to repeat and a stronger heart to withstand the unpredictable. For the less fortunate, it is my indelible experience multiplied by a hundred, painful hearts that in time will be soothed and a future that now seems bleak but is not without hope. For someone who has always been very afraid of earthquakes, I have become incredibly cool when the ground beneath me seems to be trembling again. The people of Taiwan will have more respect for the powers of nature, an understanding of the importance of being prepared for whatever may come, and the conviction that we are neither as strong as we thought we were, nor as incapable of love as we had imagined.