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Life goes on

By Monique Chu
STAFF REPORTER
Thursday, Sep 21, 2000, Page 7

Sun Chi-kuang survived in Taipei's collapsed Tunghsing building for six days after the 921 quake. The experience reshaped his life: "I felt as if I was repenting for all my wrongdoings," he says. PHOTO: CHEN CHENG-CHANG, TAIPEI TIMES

In the late evening of the Mid-Autumn Festival, 21-year-old Sun Chi-kuang (孫啟光) returned home unexpectedly from the army. In the cramped flat where his family has lived since their rented home at Taipei's Tunghsing Building (東星大樓) collapsed during the 921 earthquake, Sun's return was met with overwhelming joy from his mother and grandmother.

"It's really nice to see you back," said Sun's 68-year-old grandmother, eyeing the youngest Sun closely to see if he had lost any weight after joining the army for his two-year military service on Aug. 18.

For Sun's family, this year's Mid-Autumn Festival -- a traditional holiday for family reunions -- meant a lot to them. After all, during last year's festival, Sun and his elder brother Sun Chi-fong (孫啟峰) were still buried in the wreckage of the quake-stricken Tunghsing building on Pateh Road while waiting relatives prayed for a miracle.

"I didn't even have the pleasure of seeing the moon then, not to mention eating moon cakes. I was eating lots of dust and dirt then," the youngest Sun joked when reminiscing about last year's festival.

Rescue workers play fire hoses over the ruins of the Tunghsing building on Taipei's Pateh Road, toppled by the 921 quake last year. TAIPIEI TIMES FILE PHOTO

For nearly six days before the younger Sun found a way to crawl out the rubble, the two brothers stayed alive on rotten apples, stale water and their own urine, buried deep among the ruins of the building.

When asked what their deepest impression was on the eve of the one-year anniversary of the quake that killed nearly 2,300 people, both Suns turned philosophical.

"Those six days underground changed me a lot. I could have died, but somehow I crawled out alive. It's like God had granted me a new life," said Sun Chi-kuang.

Wu Chih-sheng, who lost his wife in the quake: "The purpose of life is more than earning money," he discovered. PHOTO: CHEN CHENG-CHANG, TAIPEI TIMES

Calling himself "rebellious," the youngest Sun used to go out all night, lying to his parents and friends about his whereabouts, and thought little of others apart from himself.

"But during those six days, I felt as if I was repenting for all my wrongdoings. Then I felt reluctant to give up on life. I wish I could do things all over again," Sun said.

11-year-old Liu Yao-wen squats next to a painting of the collapsed Tunghsing Building. PHOTO: CHEN CHENG-CHANG, TAIPEI TIMES

By the time the two brothers returned from death's door, some fundamental changes took place. Sun Chi-fong gave up smoking because he recognized how detrimental smoking is to your health, and his young brother rarely went out at night any more.

They not only joined a voluntary group to help victims of the tremor in central Taiwan, but also vowed to do good deeds for other people.

"Now I really believe that human beings should treat each other well," said Sun Chi-fong.

The youngest Sun said it was Buddha who appeared in a dream to him on the fifth day of his internment under the ruins and showed him a way out from behind a smashed refrigerator, up to the outside world.

The two brothers said it was their parents' righteous deeds in the past that enabled Buddha to save them.

Their mother, Liu Luan (柳鑾), said her sons' "incredible" survival taught her a precious lesson.

"I've earned back my two sons. Aside from that, I don't have a thing to my name. But nothing else really matters as long as we still live," said Liu, who had given up what she described as her "endless demand for materialistic satisfaction" after the quake.

Liu is not alone. Wu Chih-sheng (吳志勝), acting president of the Tunghsing Self-help Association who lost his wife in the earthquake, said he regretted having spent too much time earning money while investing too little in his family.

"The purpose of life is more than earning money," Wu said.

Now that he had lost his house as well as "the female protagonist" in his family, Wu decided to close his 19-year-old watch shop so as to devote more time and love to his three children.

"After all, the term `jia' [家] in Chinese refers not to `house', but rather to `home,' the completion of which requires a lot of love and devotion," said Wu.

But survivors of the Tunghsing collapse, in which 87 died, are still beset with problems. While some victims still experience psychological trauma, triggered by the power of the earthquake itself or find it hard to recover from the loss of their loved ones, others accuse the city government of offering little help to rebuild their homes as well as failing to punish city officials they deem responsible for the building's collapse.

For the first few months after the tremor, Wu's five-year-old son Wu Shang-heng (吳尚恆) often stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. From time to time, the little boy would ask his father to bring him back to the site of the Tunghsing building simply because he missed his mother.

"My son knows the way from our shop to our home, but bringing him back to the site simply made me feel sad," admitted Wu.

When asked if he still experienced any sense of fear after the massive tremor, 11-year-old Liu Yao-wen (劉耀文) nodded without any hesitation.

"Whenever my granddad turns his body over on the bed, I think it's another tremor and then I simply can't sleep," said Liu, whose whole family survived the collapse and now live in his grandfather's apartment.

Sun Chi-kuang's post-quake trauma was more serious. "I'll never forget the trauma triggered by my six-day stay deep beneath the ruins. I find myself extremely frightened whenever there is an earthquake," Sun admitted.

After the 921 quake, the youngest Sun always placed a bottle of water by his bedside, and he always had to have the light on before going to sleep. But now that he is in the army where the light is always switched off during sleeping hours, Sun needs to swallow sleeping pills to help him fall asleep.

"During the past year, I've kept thinking about that earthquake. I simply can't forget it," Sun murmured repeatedly.

Among the relatives of those who survived or were killed by the Tunghsing collapse, Sun's grandmother has perhaps experienced the most complicated feelings over the past year.

Although the old woman was relieved to find her two grandsons alive after being trapped in the ruins for nearly 130 hours, she was shattered by the news that her daughter Liu Yu-huan's (柳玉環) entire family perished in the disaster.

"The five of them died unjustly. Both my daughter and my son-in-law were so pious, and their kids were so lovable," said the old woman, crying while looking at and touching photos of her departed relatives.

Over the past year, the old woman, a resident of Chiayi County in central Taiwan, has traveled island-wide to join countless Buddhist ceremonies in memory of those who died in the massive earthquake, with the hope that the five of her loved ones died a peaceful death. While religious rituals and tears have become the old woman's shelter in this time of need, many survivors of the disaster have chosen to blank the past out in order to heal the pain.

Some did so by refusing any media interviews. "Thank you for your concern, but I don't want to do your interview for the simple reason that I want to have a quiet life," said neighborhood chief Wu Ching-chuan (吳靜娟).

The Suns' mother was more direct. "We have every right to refuse interviews, haven't we? Otherwise some would criticize us for loving to show off," said Liu, who had turned down at least 15 interview requests over the past month.

But to do justice to those who died in the collapse, Wu still decided to face the media gaze in order to convey the urgent demand of the self-help association. They said Taipei City Government should help with the rebuilding of their homes as well as punish those civil servants responsible for issuing construction licenses to the building's contractor. Quoting an investigative report from the Control Yuan and another from the Taipei Civil Engineers' Association, Wu said he was convinced that the collapse of the building was due to structural problems and design flaws. Remodeling work on the ground floor, which belonged to the First Commercial Bank (第一銀行), that involved the alleged removal of the structure's vital load-bearing columns, has also been blamed for the collapse.

Wu complained as well about the tedious lawsuit now proceeding against the building's contractor. "If the lawsuit takes four to five years to complete, we'll be unable to put our mind at rest," Wu said.

Despite the city government's promise to offer preferential treatment for the rebuilding of survivors' homes, the failure of those who own the land to reach any consensus over the project as well as other related procedural delays have made timely reconstruction impossible.

Returning to the site of the collapse last Thursday, Wu pointed to the unattended location and sighed. "Many Japanese tourists even come here to take photos, and I wonder how long it will take for us to build our home here," he said.

Even the 11-year-old Liu shared Wu's yearnings. When asked what his greatest dream was on the eve of the first anniversary of the 921 earthquake, the little boy said seriously: "I want to return to my hometown [故鄉] soon."

"Your hometown?"

"I mean, I want to see my new home built at the very site of the Tunghsing Building as soon as possible. I don't want to live at granddad's home forever," said Liu.
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