Terror in the quiet

On the Sunday before the big quake of ’31, Doreen Powell can remember an unusually rough and wild [seas?] off Harding Road at Ahuriri. Her vision was clear; it had to be, because Doreen was deaf. Her brother Ray Forman was also deaf.

When the quake struck, Doreen had just returned from the butcher’s shop with the younger Ray. When the shaking began, so strongly that it twisted and jammed the house’s doors fast. The gas stove fell over, blocking a door, the contents of the scullery were strewn over the floor and kitchen utensils were tossed everywhere. When the coal range toppled, it scalded little Doreen, bruising and slightly burning her.

Ray and Doreen, unable to hear anything, hugged each other tightly for comfort and support as the chaos continued around them.

Ray says it was difficult to fully comprehend what was going on around him. Neither he nor his sister could hear the sirens screaming round the city nor the thunder as buildings burned and collapsed around them. The older Doreen used sign language to tell try to tell him what was happening.

After the major shake had settled, the pair managed to escape the badly beaten house by climbing through one of the boy’s bedroom windows after smashing it open with an axe. None of them had been badly injured but they were all nervous and scared, waiting outside for brother Reg and their father Michael to return home. Reg worked at Port Ahuriri School and Michael worked at Port of Napier.

Ray, pictured at right, remembers seeing his father having to push his bike along Harding Road because of the debris and large cracks in the road. The cracks, holes and mounds punctuating the road were to become the four-year-old Ray’s playground for days to come.

That night, and for the next, the Forman family slept under the stars before they were given a tent for shelter. They cooked and cleaned outside because the house was unsafe to enter. Thankfully, it was a warm summer.

The aftershocks continued for days and the tent poles shook constantly. Right across Napier, the fires had burned for days. And the Forman family could see for the first time how much land had been reclaimed by the sea during the quake.

It wasn’t long before Alice Forman and her three children were sent to Palmerston North by train. Ray says he and his sister never really understood why they had to leave, nor where they were going.

Camped at the showgrounds, Alice persuaded the authorities to let her take the children to her sister Ethel in Remuera. They were there for a further two weeks until it was safe to return to Napier.

Kath Smith (nee Byles) who was also deaf, had recently enrolled at Napier Technical College, having achieved “proficiency”, probably the first deaf person in New Zealand to do so.

Naturally apprehensive, it was Kath’s first day at secondary school, in the hearing world, separated from her deaf friends for the first time.

On the morning of the quake, Kath walked the half mile or so with other new pupils she had met through her sister Polly.

After the 11am break, Kath returned to her allotted room when the quake struck.

“There was a mad rush to safety,” Kath writes.

The girl sitting next to Kath was trapped by the falling debris, and she had to spend five frantic minutes helping to free her. They squeezed themselves through a hole in a brick wall before outsiders dragged them out.

Because of her deafness, Kath says she was confused by the bedlam, people shouting orders, crying and screaming in pain. Kath, who was unsure of what was going on or what to do, had to have some instruction written down for her.

Reunited with her family, Kath spent the next days in Napier’s tent city. She was issued with a refugee label and was also sent to Palmerston North where she stayed with friends for six weeks.

Both Doreen and Kath have remained lifelong friends and, because of their age at the time, have clear memories of the horror and confusion and can easily recall the vents. Ray, the only four, is less sure of the details but the feelings of danger and excitement are vivid.

None of the three has been previously interviewed or questioned on their experience in 1931.

Their nephew Wayne Forman, of Napier, says it seems a pity it takes 70 years to finally record their unique experiences.