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Construction in spotlight in Iran
By BORZOU DARAGAHI ABDAREH, Iran -- There is nothing left. Assad Mohammad's childhood house and family were here, but all that remains is a mangled heap of split wood, twisted tin and mud bricks. His father, two sisters, a nephew, niece and other relatives were crushed to death in their homes when a 6.1 magnitude earthquake struck this village in northwestern Iran early Saturday. "Look at this," said the builder, who lives three hours away in Tehran but rushed here after hearing of the quake. "I don't know whose house is whose. I don't whose belongings are whose belongings. My father. Oh, my father." Some 245 people were killed, and thousands were injured and left homeless in the disaster. Iran is among the world's most seismically active countries, and an aftershock struck Abdareh even as Mohammad stood weeping for his lost loved ones. Although the earthquake didn't set records for magnitude or casualties, it highlighted the primitive state of construction in rural Iran. State television aired documentaries trumpeting official efforts to upgrade housing incapable of withstanding even the mildest of earthquakes. The walls of rural Iran's mud-brick homes, clustered tightly together in interlocking mazes, break during even minor earthquakes, causing ceilings to crush those inside. "The mud brick houses turn into dust," said Morteza Shahbodaghi, a Red Crescent relief worker in the area. "They are neither sturdy nor allow for easy rescue." Saturday is the first day of the work week in the Muslim world. At 7:28 a.m., when the earthquake struck, nearly all the men were already at work picking grapes from the nearby vineyards. Nearly all the 30 killed here were women, children or the elderly. Fatima Karimkhani said she was just getting up when she heard rattling. She immediately jumped toward the front door of her tiny home and almost made it outside when the door fell on her. She was trapped but slowly managed to claw her way out. "I am very lucky to be alive," she said. Ali-Ahmad Mohammadi, out in the vineyards, was thrown to the ground by the quake. He got up and was immediately knocked down by an even larger tremor lasting about 20 seconds. He got up again and ran to his house. Although his home was damaged, his family members escaped to safety. Five or six of his neighbors were killed. His house, however, is in a relatively new section of the village away from the traditional, tightly knit core. The cities near the earthquake's epicenter in the mountains also suffered extensive property damage, but very few fatalities. In Avaj, a tree-lined mostly Turkic-speaking city of 20,000 people, roofs collapsed and many homes were damaged. When the quake hit, terrified residents ran screaming out of their homes, with women ignoring the Islamic Republic's rules requiring them to dress modestly and cover their heads. Such haste yielded a reward: Only one person died. Since the Islamic revolution in 1979, Iran has had an excellent record in bringing paved roads, utilities and public infrastructure to rural communities. But almost all the traditional mud-brick villages remain. For Mohammad, the Tehran builder, the loss of his family ancestral home and village was especially bitter. Inspired by his new skills, he came back here 10 years ago with plans he had drawn up to rebuild the town to withstand earthquakes. He showed them to his father and other village patriarchs. They smiled and nodded and assured him they would rebuild insha-allah, if God willed it.
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