As the sun rises over Bangkok, the full scale of the devastation caused by the devastating 7.7-magnitude earthquake is laid bare.
Sunlight illuminates the strands of steel rebar twisted into the shape of tangled tree roots gripping blocks of crumbling concrete. For hours rescuers have toiled in the stifling heat, desperately trying to reach dozens of stricken souls buried in perilous pockets of safety beneath tonnes of rubble. The diggers, clawing at the metal rods and debris, are facing a race to reach those trapped beneath before it’s too late. Each load brings the workers one step closer to freedom – but also risks shifting the debris and burying them forever.
Sniffer dogs are searching for signs of life and there are moments of excitement as it seems there may be survivors pulled from the wreckage. But so far loved ones are still waiting, hoping against hope that their family members will be pulled out alive.
The devastating scenes are being played out across neighbouring conflict-ridden Myanmar, which has felt the full force of the disaster and more than 1,600 people have died. More than 800 miles away from the bright lights of Bangkok, near the quake’s epicentre in Myanmar’s Mandalay, similar scenes of devastation are unfolding.
Rescue teams yesterday climbed into the wreckage of the six-storey Wisdom Villa Private High School before, only stopped by a wedged door blocking their passage. “Is there anybody inside?” they shouted, gathered outside hushed, straining to hear any sign of life.
At least seven people were trapped inside, locals said, including two teachers and several children. Seven others had died while two were extracted alive in the hours after the quake struck.
Scores of family members and neighbours were sitting waiting for news. Yin Nu’s daughter, Yamin Shwe Zin, 26, was one of the teachers trapped inside. At one point, rescuers heard her call from inside: “I am teacher Yamin. I am alive inside. Please help me. I am thirsty.”
Her mother has been waiting ever since. “I couldn’t sleep all night. I was saying if you’re gone, at least show me your hand,” she told AFP tearfully. I was around the building like a crazy person. I could only call out my daughter’s name and cry because I couldn’t do anything.” The school in Paleik, on the outskirts of Myanmar’s second-largest city, normally has around 200 pupils aged 12 to 15, but the term has finished and most had left.
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