Lydia Wallace was interning at Danwei when the Sichuan earthquake struck. She is now working for a disaster relief organization in Sichuan and will be publishing stories and photographs about the people she meets. She is also blogging at www.fiferis.com.

Liu Ting Feng supports herself by leaning on the wooden handle of a twisted spade. One of her ankles, tightly bound by an ace bandage, twists awkwardly inwards. A pink plastic sandal dangles from the useless foot. When our aid truck arrives in the tiny village Bandao Cun, she limps from her house towards our truck, lingering towards the back of the crowd that gathers. When I approach her, she takes my hand forcefully and draws me over to offer her thanks in heavily accented Sichuanese.

She was born only 30 kilometers up the road, and moved into her house in Bandao Cun when she was married at 16. Now, at 65 she still works in the fields along side her son and grandson, helping to grow rice, corn, and soybeans.

On May 12th at 2:28, she was feeding her chickens. When the ground began to shake, their house crumbled and one of the walls collapsed on her foot. Her son and grandson were in the fields, at the time and came running home when the ground finally stopped shaking. I ask her how long the earthquake lasted and she shakes her head. “I’m not sure,” she says, “it seemed a long time.” She remembers one other earthquake in 1976, but it was not too serious.

I ask her if a doctor looked at her foot. “Yes, yes, a doctor looked” she assures me. “When?” “Three days ago.” June 6. Almost three weeks after the earthquake. I notice she still does not put any weight on it. To my untrained eye it looks unnaturally twisted, likely broken. I ask her what the doctor said, will it heal soon? But she only says that it is not so bad now, better than before, patting my arm to assuage my concern.