when disaster strikes...

We Kiwis are a funny bunch.
News breaks of a tsunami on its way and a bunch of us head to the beach for a nosy.

Some take surfboards.

Idiots, the rest of us say, shaking our heads.

But what did the rest of us do?

When Civil Defence told those living on the East Coast to start gathering bottles of water, tinned food and clothing and head inland, how many listened? How many threw off the duvet covers, screamed at their sleeping partner to start packing, and ran through the house collecting their non-waterproof treasures before heading for the hills?

At home in Tirau, some 50 minutes from the nearest coast, I got out of bed and ran. And ran home again. Like I do every morning. I actually forgot about the tsunami alert until I was eating breakfast. By then, warnings about a "massive wall of water" had been downgraded to "waves measuring 20cm high".

Hardly worth getting out of bed for.

To be fair, most people were probably still snoring soundly when that first news bulletin hit the airwaves. It was Sunday, after all. The rest, I suppose, either yawned and made a cup of tea, or cracked a few eggs into the frying pan, or just changed channels.

She'll be right, we said.

It makes me wonder: how would the average Kiwi cope in the face of real disaster? We seem to hear about some part of the world devastated by tsunami, earthquake, bush fire, terrorist attack every few weeks now. And sure, we've had our share of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in the past, but nothing compared to Haiti or Chile or even the Aussie bushfires. Events where 'she'll be right' wouldn't quite cut it.

It just doesn't seem quite real.

And, to be honest, every time another disaster strikes, our memories of the preceeding one fade a little more quickly. We hear the numbers of dead and injured and missing, and we despair; then we forget.

Like Fredd Dagg said, "we don't know how lucky we are, mate."

But maybe there's something to be said for living in the moment. Sure, we can sympathise with those whose lives are torn apart and we can fill our basements with tinned baked beans and decks of playing cards in preparation for Doomsday. We can practise fire drills and earthquake drills and build ourselves a bomb shelter complete with flush toilet and home theatre system.

But, in the end, if a freak wave or a cyclone is on its way, there's sweet Fanny Adams we can do about it. It's gonna happen, whether we're 'ready' or not. The best we can do it is live each day as it comes.

And maybe have a surfboard on hand.