CHRISTCHURCH, New Zealand – Homes and cars disappeared first. Fences, sidewalks and other remaining markers of suburban life followed. Now, only a few patches of green remain – a frightening memorial to two earthquakes that devastated Christchurch, New Zealand’s second largest city, 10 years ago.
The undulating stretch, which begins two miles from downtown Christchurch, was considered uninhabitable after the earthquakes, the second of which killed 185 people on February 22, 2011. The 8,000 properties it covered were purchased by the government and razed, the remainder swept away. .
The land is now in limbo, a reflection of the difficult decisions Christchurch faced about how, what and where to rebuild on disaster-prone terrain. In the central business district, cranes, bulldozers and rock drills are still a feature of almost every street. But in the eastern suburbs, an area almost twice the size of New York’s Central Park is constantly being restored by nature.
Dead ends turn into swamp and mud, evidence of why the residents left, not all by choice. Lawns look like misaligned golf courses; the grass is cut and sprayed for weeds, but nothing is planted recently. Aside from curved streetlights and faded road prints, there are few signs of a human past.
Missing parts of the area, which the government called the red zone, now attract foragers. On a recent Sunday afternoon in late summer, a group of families dispersed through a field of wildflowers that was once a backyard, stopping to pick milleft and chamomile for tea.
A fruit mat on the floor beneath a tall pear tree was much more than they could carry in their bags and baskets. The children stuffed pears in their mouths, with the next one already in their hands.
“They are sweet, but quite crunchy,” said Baxter MacArthur, 10, from his position in the middle of the tree.
The red zone is a worrying reminder that New Zealanders live in one of the most geologically active places on the planet. The capital, Wellington, sits atop the seismic faults, and the largest city, Auckland, was built on a ring of about 50 dormant volcanoes.
The first of the two earthquakes a decade ago, a 7.1 magnitude seizure on September 4, 2010, caused severe structural damage in Christchurch, a city of 380,000 that is the largest on New Zealand’s South Island. No one died as a direct result, although one person had a fatal heart attack.
This was followed five months later by a 6.2 magnitude earthquake that killed 173 people in the city center and 12 elsewhere, while facades and tall buildings collapsed. The city’s infrastructure – roads, bridges, water systems – was devastated and the central business district would remain closed for two years.
The gigantic task of reinventing itself was difficult for Christchurch, which before the earthquakes was a very conservative city with traditional English architecture. Efforts have progressed slowly, but a redone, greener and more compact center is emerging.
Deciding what to do with the red zone was no less a hassle. The open space, although born of tragedy, is a rare treasure in large cities. And if the outdoors is vital to mental health, Christchurch may need it more than most places. The city’s treatment services are still tense a decade after the earthquakes, the pressure having been exacerbated by the terrorist attack on two mosques in 2019, which killed 51 people.
But planning for the area took years and remains uncertain. Christchurch City Council and the central government have focused on the central city at the expense of abandoned suburbs, said Yani Johanson, a councilor in an area that occupies part of the red zone.
Proponents of conservation projects on the land asked the council to commit to ecological restoration.
“It must be a place where people can come and be where their properties are, but not destroyed by large buildings,” said Celia Hogan, co-chair of the community group Greening the Red Zone, as her children ate freshly picked apples and tried them out. climb a treehouse left behind.
Years of local consultation have taken to determine what should happen to the land, but the planting of native trees should begin soon, she said. A native forest would be “a respectful way to recognize people who have sometimes given up on their home in their lifetime,” she added.
A zone project created by a central government agency in 2019 tried to balance what everyone wanted – ecology and the environment, recreation, space for memorials and commercial ventures.
There is another consideration as well. New Zealand is facing a housing crisis. Johanson said it would likely increase pressure on the council to consider whether parts of the area were really uninhabitable, as they were considered a decade ago.
For now, anyone who wants to walk in the red zone can park at the end of blocked roads and, as the sounds of the city diminish, feel like the only person on earth.
Other sections are more animated. A stretch along the Avon River on the recent Sunday looked like a busy and cluttered park – noisy with cyclists, runners, dogs and children. On another empty street, custom drones hummed around a runway; nearby, parents used a street dotted with miniature traffic signs to teach their children about traffic safety.
“The idea that they used to be houses is getting smaller and smaller,” said Joanna Payne, a founding member of the Otautahi Urban Foraging group, which uses the Maori name for Christchurch. She and her friends said that when they pick fruit, they always wonder who planted the tree.
When the government tried to buy thousands of homeowners after the 2011 earthquake, it intended to give them certainty about their future. Many were irritated by the offer, which was based on property reviews from four years ago.
Some were forced to accept to pay their mortgages, others when authorities warned that areas with red zoning would no longer be serviced by utilities, infrastructure or insurance.
A handful of residents called the government bluff and stayed.
Brooklands, a semi-rural area, is home to the red zone’s most united challenge display. When the land was deemed uninhabitable, most residents sold it and left, but just over a dozen houses remained.
“It’s beautiful,” said one of the owners, Stephen Bourke. “There is no one here. Its the Paradise. “
Project manager in the construction industry, Bourke repaired his 80-year old wooden house himself. “It doesn’t leak,” he said. “Everything is tilted, but we sealed it with water.”
Ruined bus shelters remain on the streets of a single Brooklands home, although no buses arrive. Surviving houses are flanked by overgrown plots.
Local authorities still collect the garbage and cut the curbs, unlike the 2011 warnings that they would stop, but the roads are bumpy and uneven.
Bourke said he sees little point in moving elsewhere, as much of New Zealand is prone to earthquakes and floods.
“It’s very good for these politicians to show up and tell people where they can go,” he said. “But where are you going to tell me to go in New Zealand that is safe to live in?