John Roughan: It's back to basics in the sad city

The fate of many houses awaits insurance decisions. Photo / Jonathan Lowe

How is Christchurch, people have been asking if they knew I went there last weekend. Sad, I say.

From the barricades at the Avon you can look into the ruined heart of the city and notice there are banners on lamp stands all along the streets.

They must have once been very colourful but have faded and are still hanging there just as they were on February 22.

Alongside them the crumpled buildings are dark and dead and debris clutters the street. But on a warm, calm Saturday morning the banners flutter slightly as though nothing had happened.

Sad is not the answer Christchurch would give if you asked. You don't ask because it's quickly obvious life is not easy.

Even on the western side, where most of my family have the good fortune to be, it is the ordinary things of life that seem sad. To brush your teeth you are given some boiled water.

You are supposed to take care about flushing the toilet, whatever "take care" means. The newspaper is too delicate to say but everyone discusses it. Conversation after a debilitating accident can be necessarily basic.

The Press last Saturday reported that the city sewerage network was on the verge of collapse. With sand slowing the flow through broken pipes the system could not cope unless everyone took care.

The council's water and waste operations maintenance manager was quoted saying, "If we overload the ponds it will create an almighty stink. It won't just affect the eastern suburbs, you'll smell it in Hornby."

In the eastern suburbs this warning didn't apply because there residents dare not flush. They are still on portable plastic devices and their conversation is about the techniques of emptying them into the high tanks in the street.

Little problems can be met with a good pioneering spirit for a week or two. After that coping becomes flat, weary, endless.

Eastern Christchurch feels deserted, the western side is said to be crowded. But both sides can tell you about insurance.

By now just about every house in Christchurch has had an inspection by agents of the Earthquake Commission, EQC as they know it, and many on the western side have been pleasantly surprised.

Doubtless among 200,000 claims there will be some disagreement with assessors and John Campbell sounds keen to put every discontented claimant on television, but from what I heard last weekend the EQC is being generous to a fault.

You hear of rooms being marked for a complete repaint as part of the repair of a tiny crack somewhere that you wouldn't notice unless it was pointed out. Quite likely the lucky householder hadn't noticed it.

Builders are touring the western suburbs spotting damage that householders hadn't noticed. One of them told my father some of his roof ridge tiles were dislodged and sure enough they were.

The fellow quoted $2000 for the repair and EQC accepted it. He did the same deal for the same damage to the other unit in Dad's duplex.

EQC is plastering Christchurch in money. A senior claims co-ordinator told the Press, "We have a philosophy of maximum entitlement and that is reinforced to our people all the time. If there is a reasonable benefit of doubt, that should be extended to our claimant."

The 10 per cent of households with no insurance have been getting EQC money too. This is social insurance, ultimately backed by the state's power of taxation.

Private insurers, who cover earthquake damage that exceeds EQC's $100,000 maximum, have been taking a harder line. They get to make the decision between demolition and repair and their cheaper option can leave you with a house you can never sell.

I visited a friend who is desperately hoping for demolition. His home has been racked sideways in both quakes and its slab foundation has slumped to a corner. He already has his cheque from EQC but the insurance company assessor seems to think it may be sufficient to plane the doors and plug some gaps.

That was before a poorly financed insurer, AMI, proved on Thursday that the state will back private insurance too. Before the quakes my friend had an office in the city but he works from home now. He says he won't enter a multi-storey building again. You hear that a lot there.

Few in Christchurch have ventured even to the inner-city cordon to see what you can. Neither of my sisters had done so. One went in with me, the other thought it disrespectful.

It didn't feel disrespectful, it felt necessary. To see the city in this condition is to understand the strength it will discover in its recovery. It has set itself a six-month target to revive the precinct where the banners hang. That's how it starts.