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June 2, 2008
Posted: 1441 GMT
YINGXIU, China – When the earthquake hit China's Sichuan province on May 12, the epicenter looked like an apocalypse.
One of the most painful reminders of the devastation is the Xuankou Middle School.
To find out how people are coping, we drove into mountainous region of Wenchuan, the quake's epicenter. We needed to drive through bucolic mountain villages which have sustained aftershocks and rock avalanches, so I braced for a rough ride. To my surprise, 100-kilometer ride turned out to be relatively smooth. Traffic has started to move even though in a few sections boulders as big as a Mini Cooper still blocked one lane of the highways. We did not encounter bureaucratic roadblocks either. In the past, Chinese authorities typically accosted and turned back foreign journalists trying to get in disaster areas. This time, it was green lights all the way, except at two police checkpoints leading into the worst hit areas. Both times, we showed our press passes and the police politely waved us through. We witnessed organized chaos. Police directed traffic. Janitors swept the streets. Medics sprayed disinfectant. Convoys of military trucks moved in more troops and relief goods as ambulances moved out injured survivors from local clinics to city hospitals. In every other village we passed, we saw communities of survivors and relief workers striving to get Sichuan back on its feet. The quake has dislocated lives of more than 30 million people, including five million who have lost their homes. Among them is Sun Lirong, a factory worker in Sichuan's Yingxiu township. "When the quake hit, I ran out from our apartment building. I blacked out for a minute and panicked: Is my son safe? Are my husband and in-laws safe?" All survived the quake, but they have lost virtually everything, including their home. They evacuated to the home of relatives in the suburbs of Chengdu, Sichuan's capital city. Today, Sun and her husband returned to Yingxiu to retrieve valuables buried under the rubble of what used to be their home in a collapsed four-story apartment building. Now she is heading back to their relative's home with three bags full of clothes, toys and pictures of their one-year-old son. Sun and her husband, both 30 years old, used to work in a nearby cement factory. The factory is now totally destroyed and bankrupt, the couple jobless. "We hope to find odd jobs soon to take care of our son and three retired in-laws," says Sun. But prospects of finding jobs look bleak. Local officials say they need to show ID cards and other supporting documents. "But we've lost all our papers and documents in the rubble," she frets. "How do we prove we are quake survivors?"
Wang is driving back home to an uncertain future.
Wang Guixian is not banking on much government help. The migrant worker from another Sichuan town had been working in one of Yingxiu's construction projects until the quake ruined everything. Now the 46-year-old Wang has put all his belongings - pots and pans, clothes and a TV set - onto his motorcycle and is driving back home to an uncertain future. "Later I'll try to find work in other cities," he says glumly. "It's too sad to stay here." One of the most painful reminders of the devastation is the Xuankou Middle School –or what is left of it. Nestled at the foot of the Wolong mountain range, it prided itself of fine teachers and facilities dedicated to "raise the overall quality of education." What used to be the best middle school in the region is now an empty shell of crumpled buildings. What used to be a dormitory is now a tumbled heap of rubble. Scattered in the debris are tattered books, a basketball, and a pair-less shoe. More than 1,600 students used to be enrolled here. Only about 1,000 of them survived the quake. It's not all deaths and despair. From the capital city of Chengdu to Wenchuan county, we see stoic Sichuan residents coping with extraordinary resilience and resourcefulness. In and around the epicenter, they have started to clear debris and rebuild. Using government subsidies and private donations, they are building temporary housing double-time. Farmers are planting rice and other crops. Some factories are operating again and traders are back in business. Among those doing a brisk business are movers who, for a fee, help families relocate into temporary housing. Life goes on in most neighborhoods. Some residents while away their time playing cards or mahjong. Others tune in to local television or radio broadcasts to catch up with the unusually extensive coverage of the disaster. Local programming is often interrupted by a segment called "Phone-in for Peace," which disseminate messages from relatives and friends of missing people. A typical message goes: "Dear xxx, after you hear this message, please call xxx who is keen to know if you are okay." Mostly, they are voices of desperation. Sometimes, however, the program is punctuated by uplifting news. "This is a message for xxx with mobile phone number xxx," goes one. "Your Mother has been found and she is safe!"
Posted by: CNN Beijing Bureau Chief, Jaime FlorCruz
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