Before May 12, the name Wenchuan had little or no meaning to most Chinese, let alone the rest of the world. But, overnight, all that changed. For me, Wenchuan brought back many memories from the 1980s, in particular 1981 and 1988. The county which is now known to be the epicentre of the 8-magnitude earthquake is home to the Qiang minority. The Qiang are considered one of China's oldest minorities and closely related to the Tibetans who inhabit the same county and neighbouring areas. For those of us who are involved in wildlife conservation, in particular the giant panda, we are familiar with the Wolong Nature Reserve - from where many of China's friendly ambassadors to foreign countries have come. Wolong is within the boundaries of Wenchuan. I first visited the reserve in 1981, and saw the research and breeding programme. Anyone wanting to drive from Chengdu to the famous scenic world heritage sites at Huanglong and Jiuzhaigou had to pass through Wenchuan. I did, also in 1981, when I took my first photo of a young Qiang woman in her national costume. In those days, when resources and choices were few and salaries meagre, Wenchuan was famous only for its fine apples. During a return visit, in 1988, I spent a long day hiking up a precipitous mountain in the north of the county and visited an isolated Qiang village. I stayed overnight at a modest home, to photograph and document on video Qiang rituals and dances. I recall my host family's very simple lifestyle, but they shared most generously anything they had. Stuffing my bowl with the fattest piece of pork was the simplest but most illustrious way to show their hospitality. Houses were built with stone quarried from neighbouring hills, with an occasional defence tower, making the village look like a fortified community. These fortresses are now known to scholars interested in Qiang and Tibetan architecture. With this devastating earthquake, my heart and thoughts go out to the villagers, and I wonder how they could survive when their village is sandwiched between the cracks and crevices of high mountains. Indeed, I have always taken some interest in seismology, since much of my work is focused on the Tibetan plateau. This highest geological land form and ecosystem is among the youngest in the world, created by the last major uplift when the Indian continent crashed into Asia, some 30 million years ago. This massive activity on our planet formed the Himalayas and the high Tibetan plateau. Geologists are aware that the plateau is still rising and there are many active tectonic plates adjusting or re-adjusting to each other over the millenniums. In fact, China's strongest earthquake, of magnitude 8.6, occurred in Zayu, southeastern Tibet , on August 15, 1950. The deadliest earthquake ever recorded, of about the same strength as the Sichuan earthquake, killed 860,000 people in neighbouring Shaanxi province in 1556. Among the fault lines on the Tibetan plateau, two of the most active come close to merging near Wenchuan. I remember chatting in 1982 to Clarence Allen, one of the most knowledgeable seismologists at the California Institute of Technology. He had just returned from a field study along the fault lines of western Sichuan. I recall looking at his seismological map, with dots of large earthquakes across the region. One of these faults travels from the south in Xichang northwards, passing Luoding and Kangding before following the Tibetan road up to Dawu, Luhuo and Ganzi. The southerly part of the fault follows the Dadu River, whereas the latter part of the fault coincides with the flow of the Yalong River, two of four major rivers that feed the Yangtze within Sichuan province. In fact, past earthquakes may have contributed to the current path of these two large rivers. Many major earthquakes have struck the area, including one of 6.9 in Dawu in 1981 and another of 7.9 at Luhuo in 1973. The other fault line travels from Wenchuan northwards, and passes through Songpan, Nanping and Pingwu , into southern Gansu . Along this fault, the most memorable quake happened on August 25, 1933. Scientists calculated it to have been 7.5 on the Richter scale. At the epicentre of Diexi, a two-level lake was formed along the Min River, which can easily be seen even today. Several villages were inundated. Many of the mountains in the area shifted and many rivers and streams were dammed, resulting in more than 9,300 deaths when the water eventually burst through these natural dams. While the scale of death is much higher in the latest quake, we must also look at the cause of the deaths. It seems obvious that economic growth over the past two decades contributed heavily to many more multi-storey houses being built. Almost all are made of bricks, concrete and cement. When these houses collapsed, rather than breaking into small pieces, they came down as entire cement blocks or concrete slabs, crushing everything under them. Had the houses been built in the traditional ways, the damage might have been far less. It seems that, in the aftermath of the quake, while the first line of concern and duty is to save as many lives as possible, thought must also be given to reconstruction for displaced inhabitants. It is inevitable that new building codes have to be enforced. Buildings must be designed and built as earthquake resistant as possible. There is also time for us to make changes to existing buildings in other earthquake zones so that the same mistakes will be avoided. Along the many fault lines in this part of China, it is not a matter of if an earthquake will happen, but when. We must ensure that future catastrophes are contained to a minimum. In the battle with nature, although we may be a loser, let's try to lose less. Wong How Man is founder and president of the China Exploration & Research Society