海角大神

Back in 2013, I was in Mexico City for a work trip when the light fixtures started swaying in a ground-floor hotel restaurant. In the United States, we鈥檙e taught to find a sturdy table to crouch under, or a doorframe to stand in when the earth starts to tremble. So, I did just that, throwing my hands up against one of the hulking doorways of the 1920s building.

Seconds later, waiters and cleaning staff were running past me 鈥� in some cases crouching to squeeze through the space between my arms and the floor 鈥� to get outside. I looked around at the empty restaurant perplexed and a little amused,听and decided I should probably follow.

But, this week, when Mexico City started jerking to a 7.1 earthquake, I was grateful for that lesson in local quake culture.听

More than 40 buildings were toppled in Tuesday鈥檚 temblor, including one wing of a private elementary school.听The death toll has reached more than 137 people in Mexico City alone,听out of more than 270 nationwide. And in a city like this one, where many neighborhoods are built upon a squishy former lakebed, a building that survives one quake won鈥檛 necessarily make it through the next. Getting outside is the priority, even if there are other risks once on the street.

I rushed downstairs as my office began violently shaking Tuesday, meeting up with my daughter and her caretaker outside the front door. We held each other as we walked slowly down a tile pathway toward the building鈥檚 front gate, trying to keep our balance. The caretaker called out the Lord鈥檚 Prayer in a steady lilt and I peppered her with questions. 鈥淚s this big? Is this stronger than the last one?鈥� I asked, referring to the 8.1 quake that rocked the capital just 12 days earlier while I was out of town. My 11-month-old daughter, thankfully, seemed oblivious.

Out on the street, we heard glass breaking, loud snaps, and watched, horrified, as a seven-story building around the corner bounced and swerved, throwing bricks from its fa莽ade. The structure didn鈥檛 fall, but apartments were visible through the broken walls.

A group of construction workers gathered with us in the middle of the street 鈥� as far away from buildings, trees, and electrical wires as we could get 鈥� their arms wrapped around each other鈥檚 backs to form a human chain.

The moment the earth stopped swaying, the workers were off, like many around the city, jumping in to help trapped residents escape their damaged homes or clear rubble from fallen buildings. An older woman came walking down the street, leaning on a teenage boy, sobbing. 鈥淚t was just like 鈥�85,鈥� she cried, taking stock of the buildings on the block. That was the year of Mexico鈥檚 deadliest earthquake, which left thousands dead and hundreds of buildings destroyed.

It was heartening to see people bolt into action. A trio of carpenters 鈥� grandfather, son, and grandson 鈥� working on a neighbor鈥檚 home rushed from one site of wreckage to another with their tools to offer help. Bicyclists, some with whistles, started directing traffic on a four-lane thoroughfare where stoplights had gone dark.听

The day after the quake, volunteer turnout was astounding. Support centers were overwhelmed with donations of water, men and women slapped together simple sandwiches for volunteers, and crates of water bottles blocked sidewalks. Local restaurants and shops opened their doors to volunteers and displaced residents, offering water, meals, and other support. Some areas of the Condesa and Roma neighborhoods, where numerous structures fell or were deemed inhabitable, were so clogged with volunteers it was difficult to move through the street. As the day wore on, there were moments where the outpouring of support felt almost alarming.

Although official search and rescue teams, the Army, and firefighters are on the scenes of collapsed buildings, there is a distinct feeling that no one is really in charge. Rumors are flying of buildings on the verge of falling, with tape put up to block cars and pedestrians. But it鈥檚 unclear if these were decisions made by officials or eager volunteers. Guidance or explanations from authorities are scant, leading to听misinformation, even if intentions are good.

Earthquakes have been on my mind since I moved here three years ago, in part because my partner likes to geek out on seismic activity. Before renting our first apartment, he studied maps of the 1985 quake destruction, and suggested we choose a building with fewer than six floors, because they respond better to the vibrations of temblors here. I guess it鈥檚 rubbed off on me, because I started asking about earthquake risk when making decisions here, too.

When interviewing surgeons for a throat operation I was met by surprised laughs when I asked what would happen if a quake hit mid-procedure. The carpenter who built shelves for our kitchen was dismissive when I asked her if we should put on cabinet doors so that dishes didn鈥檛 slide out during a quake. I don鈥檛 know if these reactions are indications of the normalcy of earthquakes here or a coping mechanism: we can鈥檛 always know what will happen until it happens.

But being a parent changes things. The everyday risks of letting your children grow and learn as independent people feel suddenly much higher after this week鈥檚 disaster.

A young girl known as Frida Sofia was believed to be buried under the rubble at the Enrique Rebsamen school in the south of the city, capturing the nation鈥檚 attention 鈥� and instilling waves of nausea in parents like me.听She reportedly wiggled her fingers through the rubble on Wednesday, and rescuers worked around the clock to free her and five other students supposedly trapped there. By Thursday, however, authorities said they doubted 鈥淔rida鈥� exists, or, at any rate, is trapped in the school.

My daughter won鈥檛 be going to school any time soon, but even so, this quake raises tough questions. How do you know the school you send your child to, or the home he or she goes to play in, is structurally sound? How do you know that building codes are truly met in a nation seeped in corruption, where a bribe can possibly get a building approved without actual inspection?

These aren鈥檛 pleasant things to think about. But, luckily, there are plenty of reasons to feel hopeful in the aftermath of this disaster. Mexicans have come together this week, helping and supporting neighbors and strangers alike. The solidarity is inspiring, whether it鈥檚 volunteers trying to coordinate rescues before officials arrived on the scene or men and women standing in the pouring rain Wednesday night, removing rubble in hopes of saving lives.

And, if the aftermath of the 鈥�85 quake serves as any indication, this citizen unity could lead to concrete change in Mexico. That could mean听pushing for stricter standards around building inspections or simply realizing that together, Mexican citizens are a powerful force.