"Please don't forget about us when the cameras are gone!" (Chile Part III)

We drove through the city, I was told to locate the cameramen and be camera ready in 15 minutes, so we rushed to the site, which was already named "ground zero" by the chilean media. I could never use that term though. Ground zero was in NYC, the city I left soon after 9/11, whose soul was destroyed after the attacks together with my joie de vivir in downtown, or in the city for that reason.

Cameras from all around the world were set and rolling next to a 15 story building that not only fell, but also broke into two halves and firemen told me that there were still 6 people inside, but they did not know whether or not they were alive.

My travel buddies had to stay with me until the curfew was over so they sat down and watched me while I was commenting on the situation to Turkey via sattelite. I guess until then they did not realize that I was really a tv anchor, considering the fact that I looked like a backpacker the whole time we were traveling!

After the shoot we parted our ways, they went on to look for their lost family members. I hoped they found everyone and that there was not too much damage.  Spanish camera crew asked me whether or not I had made arrangements for the night,  and told me that everybody was sleeping there, in their 4x4. No hotels, no beds, no showers. I said it was fine, I could sleep outside in my sleeping bag, and that they should not worry about me---deep down I wished I was more of a fabulous correspondent with an assitant, a driver and a cameraman all to my self+ a mini van where we could crash!

Instead of worrying too much about the night fall I took my camera left the journa-camp, by then curfew was lifted and people were all over, like ants, looking for food/gas/diapers/telephones, what have you.

As I was walking around, feeling a slight shake every once in a while, I remembered that a fellow french journalist friend told me she spend the night at the firemen HQs the first night she was there, and that they accepted refugees. I asked around and found the place. They told me I could use the bathroom, use some water to clean up and if there was not too many people I could come back before the 6 pm curfew and spend the night. Knowing I had some sort of arrangement, I continued my walk around town. I went to the military HQ to get my new permit, chatted with some officers who surprisingly were very cool and seemed to be really helping people who waited in line for medecin, food and other supplies. Traditionally a student and a working class city, Concepcion had a sad past with the army during Allende years: they supported Allende from the beginning and when he was murdered they had to endure serious repression from the soldiers, so there was a lot of skepticisim, naturally. The upper level soldiers looked and acted friendly but the young ones who "protected" the streets with their huge rifles, scared the shit out of me. Afterall they had a right to shoot if someone looked suspicious or dangerous and how does an 18 year old kid who volunteered to join armed forces would know that?

I walked back to the journa-camp, I had to file another story and I needed to drink some water, and rest. My stuff was safe with the spanish crew and when I got there they were preparing supper, and insisted that I joined them instead of eating my tuna in a corner! I had some fresh bread, tuna and a bottle of carmeniere for emergencies; they had longaniza, cheese, mussels, melon: jackpot! Suddenly it felt like we were in a tapas bar in Madrid, more than earthquake thorn Concepcion. We enjoyed our food until my phone rang for a live interview and some japonese reporter came to transmit through their satelite.

We worked until later, meanwhile the rescue workers were still digging deep to find possible survivors. I was tired but could not sleep, even though they gave me a spot in their minibus, the noise of the buldozer and the generator was loud, so are the aftershocks, yelling and screaming every once in a while.

I called the cab driver who brought me there early in the morning for him to pick me up and take me to the coast----the night before I met a chilean producer who recommended I should see the real ground zero, the destruction in the coastal areas was fierce---He showed up after the curfew was lifted, I thanked my hosts/coworkers and hit the road again.

The stench of dead organic material in Talcahuano city limit nauseated me. It got stronger as we reached the coast. There was nothing left, we drove around, visited other towns, there was nothing but rumble. I got a call from one of my trip mates who told me he found his folks and many people were camping on the hills, seeking shelter, fearing the possibility of another tsunami and drove up there. He was right, there were many people, families who left the seaside as soon as the tsunami alert was issued and did not leave the mountain since then, they were going back and forth to get food and water.

I shoot the scene, interviewed a couple of people, driver told me we need to hit the road before it gets darker, and as I was shutting down my camera and old men called me and said: "Hey little girl, don't forget about us, it happens all the time, when the lights go off, noone remembers in a week, what will happen to us?"