Hawaiians take tsunamis very seriously. They have heard the stories of Hilo in 1960, and the school that was leveled before that. They have seen the tsunami scars along the cliffs, and they believe. On top of that, sirens remind them of the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. When the sirens sound, Hawaiians head inland.
Hawaiian officials are cautious about declaring an emergency. Turning on the sirens means instant gridlock and chaos.
I was in downtown Honolulu when the sirens started in 1986, and it took me hours to fight the traffic home, listening to the drone of sirens the whole way. I passed my neighbor on her way inland with my kids in her car.
Base security let me have 10 minutes to grab valuables while helicopters with loud speakers hovered overhead. It was like the evacuation scenes in science-fiction movies. Dumping the laundry, I filled the baskets with photo albums and two favorite stuffed animals, then ran out the door.
When the tsunami was supposed to hit, I was perched on a hillside with a telephoto lens on my camera. Beside me, a local family calmly pulled a hibachi out of their trunk and barbecued Spam. They had flashlights and batteries, and had been ready to move out at a moment’s notice. I had my photos and not much else.
There was widespread relief when no tsunami materialized, not anger. Conditions had been ripe for disaster and we felt fortunate to sleep in our own beds that night.
Watching the tsunami evacuation last weekend, and the coverage of earthquakes in Chile and Haiti, reminded me that disasters can surprise us regardless of where we live.
Luckily, we don’t get tsunamis here, but tornado season is just around the corner.
Even in Ohio, we need to have an emergency plan. I’ve updated mine this week and I urge you to plan ahead, also.
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