Less than an hour's drive from here is Dujiangyuan, the small town -- previously famous only for its ancient irrigation system -- that has become the focus of headlines the world over.

Here in Chengdu, life had begun to return to normal four days after what has been dubbed "The Great Sichuan Earthquake." Though most schools remained closed, some universities had resumed classes, and many businesses had already restarted.

For many Chengdu residents, the quake's aftermath is a psychological game of probability and worst possible scenario. Against the background of everyday life is the constant preying on the nerves of the possibility of another large quake. Jitters kick in with each successive apartment-jiggling tremor, lasting perhaps a few seconds but strong enough to remind us of what has already happened once.

The questions residents ask one another: "Is it all right to sleep inside tonight?" "Should we still stay together at all times by this point?"

Text messaging -- as with increasingly organized, rapidly mobilized protests -- is the key instrument of viral rumors. They continue to spread, almost invariably warning of the "next big one."

"My uncle works for the government's earthquake bureau and he said there will be a big earthquake at 2 and 10 p.m.," one of them read. They brace themselves at whatever time the next aftershock is supposed to strike, then again according to the next rumor, ad infinitum.

The Wednesday after the quake the water was turned off in parts of the city, apparently due to the leaking of toxic chemicals into Chengdu's water supply. The rumor mill immediately kicked in, whispering that it would be off for a week. Within minutes, shops all over the city sold out of water as rampant hording began. A trip to the supermarket displayed bare beverage aisles a la past decades of patchy Soviet goods provision.

Outside, from university campuses to parks and fields, makeshift villages of canvas formed. Thousands continue to sleep outside for fear of their homes collapsing.

Walking around camps earlier on there was a certain sense of adventure in the air. A friend described the evening of the quake as "like being at a music festival." With work and school on hold, people found themselves on "emergency holiday," and wasted no time in doing as the Sichuanese do so well: breaking out card decks and mahjong tiles for some camp-out leisure and conversation.

But more recently, as days of sleeping outside with limited access to amenities lengthen, a sense of lethargic desperation has crept in.

Meanwhile, the relief effort carries on, with fundraiser benefits, donation drives, volunteer sign-ups and the like. In addition to the Red Cross and other non-governmental organizations heavily involved in the rescue effort are individual, self-motivated efforts, such as that of some of the Israeli students living in Chengdu.

I caught up with one of them, a Krav Maga instructor I had previously interviewed for a magazine article, who has been personally involved in the rescuing. When two Israeli travelers went missing and the country was considering sending its own rescue team for them, Eliran and a friend traveled out to the town where the women were supposed to have been visiting. They found the girls, in shock and attempting to walk back, and took them back to Chengdu for surgery. One had her broken jaw operated on and another lost a few fingers. It turns out that a restaurant had collapsed while they were inside.

My Chinese teacher has gone to a hospital in Deyang to help out with providing care and basic assistance to the many victims. Less direct in form but equally valuable are the many people who are dropping off blankets, sleeping bags and non-perishables at desperately under-stocked hospitals and field sites.

Despite all of these efforts, it's difficult not to feel increasingly skeptical of the chances of pulling out more survivors from the rubble, this long after the initial quake. The government estimates that the death toll, well over 20,000 people at this point, will reach 50,000.

Mark Hiew is a former Ellicott City resident now living in China and working as an English teacher.

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