By BJ Worrell (chinadaily.com.cn)
Updated: 2008-05-14 12:02

Nineteen years ago a 5.6-magnitude earthquake shook Newcastle, Australia killing 13 people. Back then the country grieved. People were stunned as they previously thought such natural calamities were not possible in the "lucky country".

Monday afternoon when the news first broke that an earthquake had struck Sichuan Province my reactions were blasé. Natural disasters here on the continent are all too common and lose that sense of emotional depth.

I was still numb from the previous week's cyclone in Myanmar that killed thousands, so the fresh news of an earthquake here in China took time to be internalized.

Gradually after images began appearing of wrecked roads, demolished hospitals and destroyed schools, the reality finally began to sink in.

Children, people young and old, and three quarters of a town have all been wiped out.

A fellow foreign journalist working in Beijing revealed this morning that even though she was up all night translating copy to put online for her organization's news service, it wasn't until this morning that the news hit her and she finally wept.

Our constant digestion of doom and gloom has made us seemingly numb to the realities of those who are suffering. Searching for that human face, that connecting point that brings us closer to the truth becomes more essential than ever, particularly for those in the media who at times adopt hearts of stone.

My heart broke after reading about 56-year-old Tan Bin.

In the report Tan described how he and his work colleagues had made a desperate scramble for safety from their factory once they realized the quake was taking place. It was so violent many couldn't stand and were forced to crawl out of the factory. Sadly the unfortunate were hit by falling masonry.

"In just one minute," he said, "a town was ruined."

Battered and bleeding he and four of his colleagues then walked for 24 hours to find safety with his closing comments, "It's good to be alive".

That was when I became human again.

When I see Premier Wen Jiabao at the scene speaking to survivors trapped under the rubble my heart bleeds. I wish I were a super hero so I could fly to the scene and lift up the fallen buildings and pull out the suffering thousands to safety. It's terrible feeling realizing your own limitations.

But what is it like to be trapped, to be struggling for air, to be desperately thirsty or hungry? To be experiencing pain with no imminent relief in sight or to be feeling that maybe no one knows where you are?

In the meantime, rescuers and government officials are desperately trying to reach these people, but access to the most severely hit towns and communities remain cut off. The unbearable wait and race against time continues.

The situation taking place just a few hours' flight away from my cozy office must be awful.

So whom can we blame and project our frustration on to?

Why weren't the schools, hospitals and other buildings that crumpled not strong enough to handle the quake? My colleague tells me several years ago such impoverished mountainside areas didn't even have such facilities.

In such hilly rural areas transportation access is always going to be an issue. The fact that this region is one of the few places left where the endangered panda lives says something about the terrain.

And as the death toll climbs, and rescue workers continue without sleep, I'll remember Tan's words, "It's good to be alive".

E-mail: brendanjohnworrell@hotmail.com