Latin Quakes

Written by Geno Teofilo, American Red Cross International Delegate

The climate in Southern Peru can be cold and dry, making recovery efforts in these isolated areas even more difficult.

August 17, 2001 — It's 3:43 a.m. in Southern Peru. It's very cold outside and I'm barely asleep in this little hotel that doesn't have any heat. Somebody shakes me awake. I open my eyes to see no one there and realize it's not just me shaking, it's the whole room — or should I say, all of Southern Peru! The furniture rattles, and the next 10 seconds of shaking goes on for what seems like an hour. Finally, it stops.

It's not easy to sleep soundly on nights like this. This is the second aftershock of the night that has woke me up. In a warped kind of way, I'm getting used to this. When I was covering the earthquake relief effort in El Salvador earlier this year, the aftershocks there were even worse. El Salvador was hit not by one, but two major quakes from two different fault lines. The number of aftershocks there were in the thousands.

Unless you live in an earthquake-prone area, you can't really appreciate the annoying, sometimes terrifying, aftershocks that accompany a major quake. Here in Peru, it is now seven weeks since the magnitude 8.1 earthquake struck, and aftershocks are still continuing. Just recently a 5.0 aftershock in a neighboring province jarred loose a boulder that killed a woman. Aftershocks may not be as strong as the earthquakes that precede them, but they can still be deadly.

More Images from Peru

The quake that struck Peru on June 23, 2001, was strong enough to spread destruction across three states. The damage took on many forms. Besides the destruction of buildings, highways collapsed from landslides, tsunamis devastated the coast line, and water systems were disrupted.

I recently accompanied a Red Cross mission to some of the more remote locations where aid is being distributed. I had been to Peru before, but not this far south. Put out of your mind visions of Macchu Picchu, tropical jungles and Inca ruins, for this part of Peru is vast, rocky, wide open desert.

If you're wondering why the death toll from an 8.1 earthquake was under 200 people, it's only because this region is so sparsely populated. As I look out across the harsh, barren landscape, it's as though I've been transported to another planet. This doesn't look like earth, it looks more like the surface of the moon. There is nothing out here, and I mean NOTHING. We drive across an empty desert road, and don't see another soul, building, or vehicle for more than an hour. Our Red Cross driver Claudio explains, "There's no water. If there isn't water, there isn't life."

No wonder nobody lives here.

We start descending down switchbacks on a one lane road into a valley below. After the quake hit, this area was cut off for a while. Landslides had blocked the only road in or out. As we descend deeper into the valley, some greenery appears, then a river at the very bottom. There's life out here after all. I also begin to see signs of American Red Cross assistance. Temporary homes built of plastic sheeting dot the landscape. You might not think much of plastic sheeting when you think of disaster relief, but it's one of the most versatile items anywhere. It can be used for roof repair, for emergency blankets, and with a little lumber it becomes temporary emergency housing. Plastic sheeting and blankets were distributed both here and in El Salvador, but since this part of Peru has a much colder climate, the American Red Cross also sent tents. As we continued on through the valley I could see some of the large white 'carpas,' as the Peruvians call them. It's a good feeling to know that even out here, quite literally in the middle of nowhere, the American Red Cross was able to provide assistance.

The amount of aid sent for the Peru quake by the American Red Cross exceeded $500,000, and thanks to the hard work of many local staff and volunteers, all of the tents, plastic and blankets have now been distributed. With other work yet to be done, the relief effort continues through other branches of the Red Cross including the Peruvian Red Cross, the Spanish Red Cross, the Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies and other national societies.

As my journey through Southern Peru continued, we eventually arrived at the town of Quilahuani. More than 180 homes were destroyed here and many more were damaged. If there was anything good at all about this quake, it was that it happened during the working hours of the afternoon. When the quake hit, many of the residents here were out working the fields, so most houses collapsed without anyone inside. Most. But not all. The most tragic loss of this town was that of a baby buried in the rubble. The mayor of Quilahuani, Victor Cahmaova, describes the confusion that day. "At 3:40 in the afternoon the movement started. It began small, then grew stronger. You couldn't see anything, everything was covered with dust (from the collapsing buildings). Two water geysers exploded on each end of town. People thought it was a volcano."

This phenomenon is not unique to Peru. Earthquakes can play havoc on groundwater wherever they happen. When the El Salvador quake struck in January, a farmer relaxing in his hammock was surprised to have a geyser crack open right next to his house, shooting water a hundred feet into the air for 20 minutes. All the grass surrounding the area later died, since the water from the geyser turned out to be salt water. This freak geyser had not sprung up on the beach, but eight miles inland from the ocean.

As strange and destructive as earthquakes are, they are a part of nature. We can't predict them, we can't stop them, we can only do our best to prepare for them. Whenever they do happen, one thing is certain: the Red Cross will be there to provide assistance. Whether it's an earthquake in El Salvador, Peru, Turkey, or even the United States, you can count on one thing: We'll be there.