The terror of Turkey’s earthquake: a survivor’s account

Before Monday’s earthquake, the old town of Antakya, known historically as Antioch, had been a wonderfully preserved labyrinth of narrow cobbled streets on a gentle hill rising from the river. Beautiful houses with peaceful courtyards had been turned into restaurants and hotels, where people sipped tea and smoked under the shade of trees.

I had spent a couple of days in Idleb, northwest Syria, where I oversee operations as the country director for the HALO Trust, the landmine clearance organisation, and had decided to spend the weekend in Antakya before leaving for Gaziantep on the Turkish/Syrian border. That whimsical decision to stay in Antakya, and the choice to get up in the middle of the night for an early flight, were two of many factors that almost certainly saved my life.

I woke at 3.15am on Monday and made tea before my taxi arrived. It was raining torrentially, but the roads were empty. There was a lot of standing water and I felt the car aquaplaning now and then as we hit big puddles.