Editorial: Tornados are a reminder of our place on Earth

Missing roofs and uprooted trees on Fitzroy St, Papatoetoe after the June 19 tornado. Photo / Alex Burton

Editorial

EDITORIAL

"When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which we can never be sure," said American novelist Alice Hoffman.

The weather delivered another unexpected blow to the southern Auckland suburb of Papatoetoe last Saturday, killing diesel mechanic and father-of-two Janesh Prasad as well as wreaking carnage across an estimated 1200 properties.

Public interest in such events are understandable, Niwa says tornadoes are relatively rare events, an average of between seven and 10 moderate to strong tornado events each year.

Thankfully too, fatalities are also rare. The most recent deaths were at Hobsonville in December 2012, where three were killed; one at Albany in May 2011; and two deaths near Waitara in August, 2004.

While the clean-up and repairs continue in Papatoetoe - and a full reckoning yet to be gauged - it does appear to be our most damaging, if not the most lethal, tornado. The most damaging and deadly tornado was at Frankton in Hamilton on August 25, 1948. The tornado carved a 100–200m swathe, causing three deaths, 12 injuries, damaging 150 houses and 50 businesses with an overall damage cost of $60 million at the time.

Given the scale of last weekend's event, we should be grateful more lives weren't taken.

Another cause for gratitude is the community response. Volunteers turned out in droves to help in the clean-up and to offer supplies and support to those impacted. By Monday morning, the Supreme Sikh Society had handed out more than 100 food parcels. A Givealittle page for Prasad's family has raised more than $100,000. Despite concerns from evacuated residents, police said there were no burglaries reported.

Unlike overseas territories, where mammoth tornados are a seasonal threat, New Zealanders don't often factor such phenomena as an enduring risk. But we need to be alert, particularly to warning signs in hail or heavy rain followed by dead calm or a fast, intense wind shift; a large, dark, low-lying cloud; at night, small, bright, blue-green to white flashes seen at ground level near a thunderstorm.

A loud and continuous roar or rumble, much like the sound of an approaching freight train is often a last warning.

One more lesson to be taken from this tragedy, with apologies to Alice Hoffman, is to trust love more than the weather.