Grief has settled like the rain over Mount Maunganui, where a devastating landslide turned a peaceful campground into a scene of heartbreak within seconds. What began as an ordinary stay beneath the hillside ended in chaos as earth and debris thundered down without warning — crushing tents, burying cars, and shattering families in a single, unstoppable moment.
In the aftermath, amid mud, twisted metal, and soaked belongings, a father stood facing the wreckage. His voice broke as he pleaded with rescuers and iwi supporters not to give up. “My children are still under there,” he said — words that have since echoed far beyond the disaster zone. For those gathered on the unstable ground, seasoned search teams and community volunteers alike, the rawness of that plea cut through even the steady hum of machinery.
Two young children remain missing after the hillside collapse swallowed part of the campground. Heavy rain has continued to fall in the days since, complicating already perilous search conditions. Each downpour risks further movement of the earth, forcing crews to work with painstaking caution. The terrain is unstable. The mud is thick and relentless. Every step is deliberate.
Search efforts have unfolded in near silence — a quiet shaped by respect and by the weight of what is at stake. Excavators pause frequently. Rescuers listen. The rhythm of the operation is slow, careful, almost reverent. Iwi representatives stand alongside emergency personnel, offering cultural support and spiritual grounding as the community holds its collective breath.
Natural disasters have a cruel efficiency. They do not negotiate. They do not pause for families to gather their bearings. One moment there is laughter in tents, the soft glow of lantern light, the comfort of children drifting to sleep. The next, there is darkness and thunderous collapse.
For the father who remains at the site, hope and heartbreak exist side by side. Each hour that passes stretches belief thinner, yet he refuses to leave. His presence is a reminder that beyond statistics and headlines, this tragedy is deeply personal. It is about two children whose absence is felt in every raindrop, every shovel of earth moved.
Mount Maunganui’s coastline is known for its beauty — golden sands and rolling surf. Now, it is marked by a different memory: a community united in grief, standing in the rain, determined not to let those buried beneath be forgotten.