Pelluhue
Distribution Center, outside of Pelluhue
I did not anticipate that my first time in a nightclub that it would be full not of dancers and lights, but mountains of diapers, water, sugar, and other relief items. Workers and military worked busily sorting and piling donations, while we caught up with Gerarda Contreras Guzman, the Secretary of the Municipality in Pelluhue. Evidently we had just missed the U.S. Ambassador's visit in which he brought many much-needed portable generators for hospitals. Guzman was delighted with the tents we brought, an item frequently requested by the now homeless families registered there. She informed us that in the surrounding countryside one hundred families are without homes and that only one out of the fifteen schools is operable. Amazingly she said all this with a smile and a potent sense of optimism; a trait we would come to recognize in many of the hardest-hit.
Camp #1, Pelluhue
We drove up a dusty road to a barren field dotted by roughly made rectanglular homes. Our estimates are that they are 3x6 meters, and could more accurately be described as shelters, or in the States, as glorified sheds. But to these families, whose homes were either destroyed by the earthquake or the resultant tsunami, they are home. They are basically boxes with a door and two window flaps.
Arming ourselves with cameras, notebooks, stuffed animals and other goodies, we set off to hear their stories, capture their images, and bring a spark of hope and caring to them.
-Katherine Andrea Contreras and Paula Contreras Becena
Katherine and Paula were hacking away at a foam cushion with a meat knife when we walked up, stacking the rough squares into a cloth bag to form a chair. Bekii and I asked if we could hear their story.
Here's their back and forth exclamations:
“We were thankful for the full moon that might, otherwise we would not have been able to see anything”.
“There was a tremendous sound.”
“People aren't going to be permitted to build down below anymore”
“They're still finding bodies in the sand, every day.”
“A whole bus of elderly people traveling over a bridge was washed away; all died”.
We asked if we could pray for them, and they permitted that. I asked if they were still afraid and they said, “No, there is much encouragement”. -said, “Hay mucho animo” (not sure if my translation is the best word). After giving the little boy in their home a stuffed animal and a treat bag, we moved along to the next home, where the family stood around in the hot sun.
-Eduendo Villegas Caceres, Lucila Sanhueza Cornou
Eduendo was ready to share. I caught myself wondering how many times he's repeated his story since that night. They lived 50 meters from the beach. “I lost my home, my daughter's home, seventy birds, and all my tools. I make wood handcrafts; model boats, planes...all gone”. There was a keen sense of frustration at this; you need money to buy tools to do your trade so you can earn money. He doesn't know what to do with himself without the means to procure tools. But he says that he is a man of faith, that God is with him. I was struck by, on the one hand his heart-breaking loss, and the other his warmth and smile. I could do nothing at present to aid him, but he was content to share his story. Playing nearby was his two year-old granddaughter Sofia, and in the arms of his son-in-law his four month-old granddaughter Yanina. Then I realized it; he lost much, but he did not lose his children, nor his precious grandchildren. He was living in a tiny shelter with all of them plus his other children and his wife, but they were safe; he was surrounded by loved ones.
-Ana Maria González Casanova
The first thing we were struck by as we approached Ana's home was that she already had a fence up around it and bushes planted! She too was willing to share with us and as her family stood around her and offered me a seat, she told me about the night of the earthquake.
“I would have died, but God got me up. My house was fifty meters from the shore. As the house moved I ran outside. Then I realized I was barefoot, so I ran in for shoes. I realized I needed clothes and a blanket, so I ran back in for that. Then I remembered my purse was in my bedstand, so I ran back in for that! (laughs) By that point my neighbor made me run with her to the hills. There were people shouting “Se salio el mar!” (the sea is going out!). We ran up the hill, I did not see the wave. I found my husband at the top and asked him if our house was okay. He said 'it's fine, it's fine”; he didn't want me to worry. When we went back down our house was gone. (Points at the dirt) Quedo asi. (It was like that). It resisted the earthquake, but not the tsunami.”
They sat on the ground where their home had been and just stared. “What can we do?”, they asked each other. Eventually she went back up the hill, but he stayed, not wanting to leave, just wanted to sit there. “Twenty years ago we started from nothing, we are starting from nothing again”she said, “I had everything before the tsunami...years of sacrifice”.
“I never rejected God. I would have died. These are the moments that the families come together. Time always tells.” She then showed us her dog, which was curled up near some cartons. “He used to be so playful. Somehow he survived the waves and found us, but he doesn't eat or play”. So even the animals were traumatized!
We were glad to see that her family was taking care of her; while we were there they were busy building an addition to the shelter.
Pelluhue
The first thing you notice driving into Pelluhue is that water is stranded in places that it shouldn't be. Even one mile from the shore water is stagnating since the tsunami brought it inland. The next thing you notice is the smell, then the chaotic destruction. As we got out to walk around, stepping over rotting fish, broken glass, and large and small details of people's lives and homes, we were completely overwhelmed. I realized I had no reference on how to frame a shot of chaos. So I focused my lens on the small details, hoping that those would connect me to the people, to the lives that have been fractured. Twisted pots, a baby sweater embedded with sand. Playing cards and tv's. Then I stepped into the houses. I saw the grimy water line nearly up to the roof. Furniture and fish lying in heaps together. Curtains still hanging in blown-out windows. Walls twisted and snapped apart. There was unnerving silence.
There are still bodies being dug out of the sand each day. Mostly those who were camping on the beach to celebrate the last days of summer. Each sleeping bag or camping item I saw amidst the rubble caused particular pain. Residents said that there was so much confusion after the quake, that many of the tourists accidently ran toward the beach instead of away from it as the waves came. Unbelievable destruction and loss of life.
Camp #2, outside of Pelluhue
From the outset this camp had an entirely different feel. Through discerning together as a team afterwards we agreed that there was something spiritually off about the place. As soon as we were out of the vehicles it seemed as though we were surrounded. As I tried to distribute toys to the children, teenage girls came up asking for stuffed animals as well. I explained that they were for little kids, and they started a sort of sing-song begging. Even an adult woman joined in, though asked for a candy bag. I had no conversations worth recording; there was always an indefinable hindrance. There was an atmosphere of greed and false need, manipulation. We even overheard them as another vehicle pulled up “Here comes another one”. No wonder they were acting the way they were; they were standing around for whatever hand-outs drove up! There was a strong victim mentality, that was not present at the other camp and some spiritual yuckiness that I cannot define, but reacted to. Our children were also acting strangely and I was relieved when we headed out.
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