Ten years after the ’quake

Press, 9 July 1986, Page 17

Ten years after the ’quake

From

KEN COATES

in Peking

The concrete floor corridors of the Tangshan Paraplegic Hospital stank with disinfectant. White-coated attendants ushered us into a room in which lay six men — all victims of one of the world’s worst earthquakes of modern times, in Tangchan, north-east China, almost 10 years ago.

A doctor motioned me towards a gaunt-faced man lying on his bed in the far corner. His eyes were bright, and he struggled to raise himself on his elbow.

"I was a city official working on a new economic' plan when the earthquake hit,” he said. “I was hurt in the spine, and suffer incontinence. I learn English, listen to the radio, and read books.”

Zhang Junshan told me he was 51, three years younger than myself. I sensed the frustration of a man cut down in the prime of his life.

Did he manage to get out of bed at all? He struggled to comprehend. But he had said his piece in English, learned by heart for the foreign visitors. He sank back on his pillow. There was nothing I could do for him. Mr Zhang is one of 2000 people maimed for life by the earthquake which, on July 28, 1976, demolished the industrial city of Tangshan, which had a population of more than one million.

earthquake which, on July 28, 1976, demolished the industrial city of Tangshan, which had a population of more than one million. The death toll was 240,000, according to official figures. Another 81,000 were badly injured. Outwardly, at least, Tangshan has recovered. A new city has risen from the rubble and it is now open to foreigners. Situated 260 km east of Peking, it was one of the most polluted cities on earth, choked by its coalmines, cement, steel, chemical and ceramic factories. It was the British, as owners of

the Kailuan Mining Company, who in the 1870 s opened up rich coal seams, and miners lived close to the pitheads. Industries grew nearby. Belching factory chimneys and mine shaft towers still dominate the skyline, as some factories went up on the same sites. But much of the new Tangshan has been rebuilt on former farmland to the north-west of the old city. Most people were asleep when the 7.8-force earthquake struck at 3.42 a.m. Many of those not killed outright in the 23 seconds of destruction died in the ruins — trapped because rescue workers could not get to them.

Ambulances and rescue trucks had no chance of getting through the narrow, debris-filled streets or hutongs. The new streets are wide, with bike lanes and parks. Schools, shops, a big downtown department store, free market building, and row upon row of apartment blocks have been built. It is to the credit of rescue officials after the earthquake that a plague was averted. Thou- . sands of corpses began to putrify in a spell of hot, wet weather. The army helped provide makeshift shelters and 30,000 medical workers were rushed in to inoculate survivors. The Government has poured in funds for the construction of the look-alike flats, which, say city officials proudly, provide eight square metres per person — more than the living space in any other Chinese city. The energetic Vice-Mayor, Mr Long Jiajun, an engineer, who dresses like any successful Western businessman, has masterminded the reconstruction. He says that 10,000 people still waiting for new housing will move in by July 28, the tenth anniversary of the disaster. Apartments in China, usually concrete-floored and of two or three small rooms and a basic kitchen with a tub and a gas. ring, are New Zea- C

land standards. But for the longsuffering earthquake victims of Tangshan they will be heavenly compared with the temporary hovels in which they have been living for almost a decade. Among the ruins shown to visitors are the grotesque and twisted remains of a huge reinforced concrete railway workshop. Liu Hongqi describes how he was operating a crane pouring molten steel on that fateful night shift: “I looked up and wondered what was happening. The whole wall was falling in. I just had time to jump out of the way.” The only injury he suffered was a cut on the bridge of the nose. He grins and points to the still-visible scar. Now he hugs his daughter, Mei. Liu Hongqi was lucky. On the night of the earthquake, 1800 workers were in the railways workshops — 1778 were killed.

Some solo parents, under the pressure of trying to cope alone, remarried as soon as they could. Men from the locomotive workshops, for example, were helped to find new wives by their trade union. Some marriages worked, others ended in divorce.

A new generation in Tangshan does not remember the horror of the earthquake, but a permanent reminder is being built in the form of a monument to the dead in the city square.

Those who do remember are determined they will receive warning of the next, as their city lies on a faultline. Thirty monitoring stations in the region are keeping a check on the slightest tremor.