I’ve been thinking about starting this blog for some time, but it took a tsunami to finally kick me into action.
Last night, as the big wave drew closer to Hawaii after the earthquake in Chile, I was desperate for news of the islands. I chatted to some Hawaii friends on Facebook while ferreting obsessively for news online. The BBC only carried a generic report on its website. The Honolulu Advertiser’s site kept crashing. Local TV affiliates had very little up.
Then my beloved suggested I turn on the TV. Huh. I’d been thinking too small. Here was news happening in daylight on American territory—of course the big news channels would be on it. Both Sky News and CNN were live from Hilo, as was Fox, after a fashion. So that was my evening. Glued to CNN, listening to endless warnings about Hawaii being “threatened” by a tsunami, the evidence of my eyes disproving that.
I found myself getting quite distressed all through the broadcast, and wondered why. There was no carnage on screen, after all; even the newscasters reluctantly conceded that Hawaii had dodged a bullet this time.
But for the last 10 years I had been preparing myself for this.
It’s all quite matter-of-fact in Hawaii: maps showing coastal evacuation zones and local shelters are published in the phone book, along with lists of basic disaster preparedness supplies every household should keep. I used to buy organic apple juice in gallon flagons and filled the empty jars with water to keep under the sink, just in case. Like everyone else we had our supplies of tinned food ready, a first aid kit, battery-powered radio, camping stove, matches, gas-powered lights.
Our house was a mile inland and halfway up a valley; at 700 feet we wouldn’t have a problem from coastal water, though flooding from the local stream was on occasion a real possibility. Even so, in event of disaster we had to be prepared to camp out in our own homes without water or electricity for several days. Thanks to HECO, the appallingly erratic electricity company, we’d already practiced managing without power for 12 hours, with lots of little one or two hour outages thrown in just to keep us on our toes.
When the earthquake came in 2006 we were 500 miles from the epicenter and felt no more than a strong vibration; but the incompetence of HECO, and the antiquated nature of its equipment, meant the entire island stumbled along without power for the day and nobody’s cellphones worked. At least we got to test out the camping stove.
So I was ready, dammit.
And it seems the readiness hasn’t evaporated just because I’m living on a different continent. Every hurricane season I used to brace myself, worry about the roof, think for the umpteenth time we should get hurricane ties put on this year, then reason that the roof had already survived several onslaughts and was probably fixed on well enough to survive another. Every year I carefully monitored hurricane activity, relieved than nothing was coming our way this year.
I wonder why it’s so hard to disconnect from that hyper-readiness. Maybe knowing so many friends are dealing with what I once planned for makes it harder to give up that feeling of connection—a sense of solidarity. I suppose I just need to accept that I straddle two worlds at the moment, loving London but still tied to Hawaii in unexpected ways.
