While I was in the shower…

It has taken me 15 days to be able to process my thoughts and have the courage to put them into words, so bear with me.

On April 16, 2016 at 6:30pm I finally arrived to my apartment from a week long camp in Machala put on by an amazing PCV, Melia. I spent the whole day traveling with my good friend, Dalton, and my sick puppy.  I made plans to go to dinner with a friend at 7:30pm that night so when I got home I had just enough time to settle down (aka throw all my dirty clothes in a corner and go through my facebook feed) before dinner.  Finally at 6:52pm, I decided it might be a good time to wash of my grimy body with a quick shower.

I live in a third floor apartment, where you feel everything.  There are times when it seems the earth just had to burp and there is just a tiny little shake to the right or the left.  I was in the shower when I felt it start. The shampoo bottle started shaking.  I thought it would pass, like all the other little earth burps. After a half of a second, it was clear it would not.  The earth did not just need to burp, it wanted to vomit.  The water started to move, glass started breaking, and Leo was running in circles barking at everything moving.  Fight or Flight kicked in.  I left the shower running and grabbed my towel.  Every part of my body was shaking and I couldn’t control it.  I fumbled with the front door and pushed Leo outside.  His little paws could not get down the stairs and with only a towel wrapped around me, I guided him down. My sweet Italian neighbor was already on the ground looking up at our building.  He saw me struggling and shouted “Corre, Corre! Ni importa, corre!”. Indirect translation – don’t worry you are nearly ass naked in front of me, just run and get the hell out.  As I reached the bottom, he embraced me in a hug as I bawled on his shoulder.  The earth still shaking underneath us.  I looked up for a second to see my building still swaying.  The lights went out in all of Puerto López and there were piercing cries, shouts, and yells coming from every corner of the town.

At 6:58pm on April 16, 2016 a 7.8 earthquake hit Ecuador.

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Twenty minutes later, people started shouting “Tsunami, go up the mountain”.  The police came around the town with their sirens, alerting everyone to go as far up the mountain as they could, the ocean was receding.  I made my way up the mountain (now clothed) with a friend, her daughter, husband, and puppy. Where we found more friends, better prepared than us with food, a tent, water, and flashlights.  And so we camped out until around midnight when the police gave the all clear and we could return to our homes.  I returned to my apartment with two other friends who live closer to the ocean who were too scared to return home.  We had a sleepover, minus the sleeping part, because then the aftershocks started.

I have never not been able to sleep.  Anyone who knows me knows I am very capable of sleeping anytime and anywhere. Yet, I could not sleep.  Every movement woke me and I started running toward the door.  During the biggest aftershocks, my friends and I actually ran down the stairs.  Still without electricity or water, we decided to make the most of our earthquake induced insomnia with beer, cards, and story-telling.

The next morning the devastation from the earthquake was revealed to Ecuador and the world. The epicenter was just four hours north of Puerto López, in Perdenales. Devastation that I still cannot find the words to express. The death toll was rising every hour and those injured every minute.  Whole cities were leveled and roads into those cities inaccessible.  All Peace Corps volunteers from Manabí were taken out of Manabí for safety and security reasons and sent to Quito, as quickly as possible.

From Quito, I and other volunteers continued to watch the devastation exacerbate to the point where the news stories became too difficult to watch.  Many volunteers participated in relief efforts from Quito, sending food, water, mattresses, medical supplies, and baby formula to the coast.

And I feel guilty for sharing this story, why? Because it ends happily.

Yesterday, I was able to return to my home in Puerto López, to my friends and family, and to the most wonderful province of Manabí. I am able to eat bolones for breakfast, encebollado for lunch, and fresh fish for dinner.  I am able to jog with Leo on the beach and take a swim after in the calmness of the sea.  I am able to return to the things we all hate so much but I know others would trade for anything (dirt, tummy rubs, and cat calls).

Many others cannot return home to Manabí.

While in Quito, I received psychological support from Peace Corps.  I was able to validate my feelings and have a safe space to share them.  I was given coping strategies for continuing on with life and how to grieve.

Many others will not get this same attention or help, who desperately need it. 

I can sleep in a comfortable bed, three stories above the ground.  I can cook my own food and know the water man, Josue, will be at my front door nearly everyday asking if I need a new bidón of water.

Many others are still living without shelter, food, or water. 

15 days later, I can process what happened to me but I still cannot process or express the sorrow I feel for those who cannot return to their homes.  For those who have lost a loved one or a whole family.  For those who are still struggling to get water and food.  For those who are living outside on a mud sodden mattress because their home is now rubble. For those who have lost their whole way of life.

Poco a poco (little by little) Ecuador will start to put itself back together.  But they need help. Here are ways you can continue to support the relief efforts in Ecuador.

Photo Credits to the amazing Dalton Martin, Becky Boddiger, and El Comercio.

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