Despite the barren land and fragile foundations of houses, the entire area was filled with the pungent scent of incense and rolling chants, accentuated by bells and gongs, drums and prayers. A steady stream of people in black and carrying flowers continued to pour in. They came locally and from afar, from all over the country, in fact. All came to pay their respects to those lost and those who lost on that tragic, life-altering day.

Shortly before 14:46, the exact time the earthquake struck, official prayers began. “Our beloved ancestors, we are here today to honor you. Thank you for joining us as we remember you and pay our deepest respects for all you did for us. We know that you still care for us, as we do for you. Please do not worry about us. We miss you tremendously, and are deeply appreciative of all your support in this world and beyond. Rest assured that we are working hard to build a future so that your progeny will prosper, and the land and sea will become abundant with life once again. Thank you for your presence today. We honor you. And now please return to your heavenly abode and rest peacefully once again.”

Then, as if on queue, all heads bowed in unison, and a profound silence emerged from the earth itself and from the depths of our souls. Gratitude and promise: the past and the future as one. At the same moment light streamed through the clouds, surely a blessing that blended our small lives and huge efforts with those visiting us from above.

Arahama is an old section of Sendai. It is on the coast, where farms once butted right up to the sea. “Ara” means “rough”, and “hama” is “shore”. That is a perfectly matched name, where the ocean often shows its most angry face, as it did so ferociously on March 11, 2011.

More than four and a half years have passed since the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami. But even now repair work continues. The entire sewer system in Sendai, for example, is being replaced. So one after another streets are closed off as work progresses round the clock. That means that roads are often bumpy and bandaged with temporary patches. But those minor inconveniences and ungainly looks remind us that things are getting better. So, we are happy.

The same can be said of work being done on private homes. New ones are popping up everywhere (sadly most without gardens), while others are undergoing renovation. In fact, the entire area seems to be getting a facelift. And that, too, makes us feel hopeful.

My friend Izumi’s home and property present a more hidden opportunity to gain a sense of mature hope. Izumi’s situation is atypical because of its extreme nature. However, the story is worth telling because of Izumi’s admirable example of patience and persistence, even as the world around her has been a relentless blend of stalemate and collapse.

The steep wall behind Izumi’s home was severely during the 2011 disaster. It was wedged between her house and several others below. So, it was virtually impossible to reach in order to make repairs. Izumi explored one option after another, even going so far as to consider using helicopters. Unfortunately, the expense and complication of this issue were so overwhelming that even Sendai City, normally so generous with assistance after the earthquake, refused to help.

Added to that, one disgruntled neighbor did all he could to block any proposed solution. Japan works on consensus, so everyone must agree before action can be taken. Consequently, for years many things were at a real impasse. That is, everything except the wall. With each rainfall, it disintegrated further, despite the thick blue mat protecting it. And as it gradually retreated, the house’s location became more precarious, threatening to collapse over the edge.

This desperate situation continued, seemingly with no end in sight. But impressively, Izumi never gave up. How could she? Her mother lived in that house, loved it, and refused to move. “My husband and I cut down trees in a forest and built this house over 60 years ago. If I die here, that is fine. But I am not moving,” she would stubbornly say.

Despite the overwhelming odds, Izumi held in her frustrations and continued seeking ways to deal with the unending hurdles. And then, totally unexpectedly, things began to shift. The bank approved her request for a loan. A friend found a reliable and (relatively) affordable company to repair the wall, and another to renovate the house. And amazingly, the uncooperative neighbor backed off and Mama agreed to live temporarily in an apartment while the work was being done. And hopefully soon after the New Year Izumi’s mom should be back in her solidly renovated home. So this, too, is another happy ending to an inconvenience, this time a major one.

Imai Sensei’s work with the homeless has a slightly different slant. But it, too, is a story worth repeating. There has been progress over the years: men getting manual and agricultural jobs, for example, and old apartments being inexpensively leased to them by the city. But basically Imai Sensei’s efforts for the community will never end. Homelessness is rampant in Japan, divorce is on the increase, even among folks over 60, and the poverty and tragedy of single mothers are becoming disturbingly more common. Indeed, there is much hidden, and overt, suffering in this society.

And yet . . . and yet it behooves us to allow room for a flicker of hope. Izumi’s patience and persistence show us that. And so does the work being done by Imai Sensei, and millions of others like him. His and their never-ending paths of service must mean this world is not in a stalemate. Yes, we seem to be teetering on the edge of collapse. But even so, we have to trust that things are creeping forward. And hopefully soon the tide will turn away from today’s destructive forces, allowing a new attitude of rebuilding and repair to take hold, even as many seemingly impossible hurdles and inconveniences continue to block the way.

Love,
Anne

Recently I went to volunteer at Imai Sensei’s Yomawari Group. I had not been there for a while, and it was good to be back. The atmosphere there is always so welcoming and warm. This time I went with two friends. They had heard about Imai Sensei’s admirable efforts to serve the homeless, so they wanted to meet him.

      

Love,
Anne

“Excuse me. Would it bother you if I came in,” I queried with a bow.

The gentleman looked up, rather surprised to see a foreigner. When I explained what got me to his shop, which was impeccably clean and orderly, Zen Tanaka San beamed with delight and invited me in. Then he showed me his neatly arranged tools: some wooden and some metal, some heavy and some light. 

Zen San gave me a brief tour of his shop, showing me one stunning piece after another. He explained that designs were based on traditional motifs, but he would adapt them according to each person’s wishes. In other words, each item was individually designed, and therefore unique.

This year people of all ages, sizes, and abilities came to volunteer. There were over 100 more than the year before. 

Of course, the exquisite attention to details in planning and executing this day reflected Japan at her most efficient. But another touching, rather personal, cultural attitude also presented itself. After planting our baby trees and packing down the moist earth – which had been trucked in from the mountains over many months – we were to cover the freshly packed soil with wooden chips. Their purpose was to hold in moisture since these teeny trees would not be watered. One jolly elderly farmer and his working partner did a splendid job of planting their small charges. However, they neglected the final step: spreading the wooden chips.

So, very surreptitiously I sprinkled a few life-preserving chips on each of the newly planted trees. 

We parted tired, of course, but also filled with hope. How better to believe in the future than by placing our hands in the soil and encouraging new life to take hold? We will never see the final results, of course. But that does not matter. It is what we leave behind that counts, and surely that is what we will carry in our hearts forever.

Love,
Anne

Japan has always been keenly aware of the elements. Earthquakes, tsunami, floods, and fires have marked the history of this archipelago as much as, if not more than, emperors, shogun, and samurai. Because of the acute reality of natural disasters, the Japanese have always made every effort to protect themselves against them. One ancient form of protection is festivals.

These times of ritualistic merrymaking are a means of evoking the gods, who are often slumbering in shires, mountain forests, or the depths of the sea. These clamorous events are so noisy and festive that they evoke the gods’ curiosity, awakening them and inviting them to come closer to our human world. During these privileged times of divine visitation, we mortals ask for their blessings and protection. And when offered enough sake and raucous behavior, the gods comply.

One such festival of protection began 650 years ago in a small farming community north of Sendai. This plea for protection is called “Hibuse no Toramai Matsuri”, or “Tiger Dance Festival for Fire Prevention”.

In that area of Miyagi Prefecture, the winds have always been particularly fierce. When houses were made of wood and thatch, these gales created a real fire hazard. Since these storms are so fierce, long ago the locals selected the strongest animal they had ever heard of to counter them: the Tiger. Unlike their elaborate Chinese counterpart, these creatures are touchingly primitive. 

     

But does this festival really evoke the protection of the gods? Does it actually serve a purpose besides a day of fun? I like to believe so.

Even though these tigers are endearingly simple, they are not superficial by any means. First, of course, they are the ones that remind everyone to be careful of fire. They are also the ones who receive mentorship from the elder fire fighters, enabling traditional knowledge and wisdom to be transmitted through the generations. But perhaps most importantly, they are the ones that pull the entire community together, and hold them there as a cohesive unit.

What better protection – from any kind of disaster – could there be than a sense of meaningful purpose, mentorship, single-minded focus, and a strongly united community?

Love,
Anne

Knowledge is such a complex, nuanced sword. It slices one way when filtered through cruelty and fear, yet an entire other when blended with trust and constructive creativity. This past week in Sendai we were blessed with a hope-filled, life-enhancing use of knowledge as delegates worldwide came to discuss disaster risk reduction.

From March 14 – 18, the Third UN Conference on Disaster Risk Reduction (WCDRR) was held in this city. That significant event was mainly for delegates to discuss crucial environmental issues pressing upon the world from all sides. Those officials presented, discussed, and hammered out agreements concerning the environment and how best we, as a united human family, might find ways to prepare for natural disasters so as to mitigate their destructive effects.

One visitor from the UK said, “I’d seen so much on the news about the 3/11 disaster, but talking to people, seeing artifacts, and going to devastated areas have opened my heart wide to the trauma that individuals lived through. The actual, hands-on aspect of these displays and discussions is far deeper and more poignant that I had ever imagined.”

Many of the very informative panels were designed by students at local universities: Tohoku University and Tohoku Institute of Technology in particular. They were beautifully presented, commanding without being overwhelming. Those educational displays used the entire exhibition space to unfold the Tohoku Disaster Story in very meaningful, highly significant ways. So, walking though the show became an evolving experience of learning and of deepening compassion.

That pavilion was open to the general public and had interested observers all day throughout the entire week. Japanese and foreigners alike became absorbed in the information, the interactive programs, and the layout itself.

In fact, everything during that week pointed towards building up from a past that should never be forgotten. Now we are called upon to face the challenges of today, by learning from each other and by lending support in every way we can.

Love,
Anne

Even though I wrote to you yesterday, I would like to share another experience that commemorated the March 11, 2011 disaster. Kindly forgive me as I send you this letter of news and reflection, so close on the heels of the other.

Natori is a rural town near Sendai. One area of it lies near the sea and is called Yuriage. It is famous for its Sunday market, abundant with fresh vegetables from nearby farms and locally caught seafood.  Yuriage was completely swept away in the 2011 tsunami. Even though there are many more years of reconstruction ahead, things are moving forward. In fact, one could say that this small town is making a strong comeback. Local agriculture and fishing are rebounding, so the Sunday market is in operation once again.

             

               

   

 
Love,
Anne

Every year since then, March 11 is a day of memory, of silent reflection, and of prayer. In order to honor that life-changing day and what has been happening since then, local people make every effort to remember and to build hope.

The UN Conference in Sendai is getting closer and closer. Of course, the city and its residents are gearing up for that momentous week. For one thing, there have been events throughout the city recently introducing some of the many activities that will take place at that time. For example, a few weekends ago in one of the main event centers there was a concert, where the mayor came and spoke. 

In addition to all that, volunteers have undergone a year’s worth of training. That instruction was given by a private company and also by the Sendai City government. 

She told me that one of the key points, which was stressed throughout, was to promote Japan in general, and Sendai specifically. In order to do that, the participants had to undergo a wide variety of areas of training.

Here is a detailed list of the topics they studied.

First, of course, was orientation. This was to provide general information. It included such things as the UN’s role in disaster risk reduction, the importance of this particular conference, the types of visitors expected, and so on.

Third, the volunteers were taken to tsunami-affected areas. One of those included a damaged elementary school in Arahama, on the coast near Sendai City. The community has turned the school into a memorial so that the experiences and lessons of 03/11 will never be forgotten. The volunteers also heard real-life stories of survivors, one of whom was swept away by the tsunami, but managed to come out alive through that horrendous event. The school and stories of survivors will be part of the UN study tour for visitors.

After visiting those emotion-filled places, the volunteers’ next lesson involved going to pleasant sightseeing spots in and near Sendai.

In the next session, they were given detailed statistics about Sendai and the Tohoku region of Japan.

A few weeks before the conference begins, volunteers will be told their specific duties. No one is sure why this information is being given so late in the training. But one idea is that by not knowing, the participants would stay open to everything that was being taught.

Just before the opening of the conference, the volunteers will get a final pep talk to energize and motivate them to do their best.

Gambarimashou!

Love,
Anne

Toshi was a student of mine last year. 

He is a very open minded young man, who is eager to learn English and to try things that are new for him. He realizes the best way to improve his language skills is to talk with a native speaker. So every now and then he and I get together to chat. However, I am not one to set around leisurely, so usually we do something interesting, as we talk away in English, of course.

One of these adventures was to help out at Yomawari, the NGO that assists homeless in Sendai. That day Toshi and I distributed drinks, and then served miso soup and healthy packed lunches. Usually we cook a warm meal, but that day we were not able to rent kitchen space. 

         

Others gave out clothing and other useful items.

       

There were about 35 men that day. One new guest was from Kyushu in the far south of Japan. He had probably come here looking for construction work, but had had no luck in getting a job. Sadly, his tragic situation is not uncommon here.

After the “Soup Run” was over, Toshi told me his impressions. Paraphrasing his words, he said, “This was really good. I think every university student should have this kind of experience. So many young people want to do something positive, but they are either too shy to try things on their own, or they don’t know how to go about finding a place to volunteer. The next time I help Yomawari, I want to bring some friends. I think this would mean a lot to them.”

After some thought, he continued. “I also like the way this NGO is run. It’s got such a good atmosphere. They know each person by name and treat everyone warmly and respectfully. They also have a meeting before the meal and give really good advice. That is so helpful.”

This particular time the topic of discussion was about the problem the men will face during the UN conference in March. At that time thousands of foreigners will flock to this area. Sendai wants to make a good impression, so the police will most probably confiscate homeless people’s neatly stacked belongings, which they keep in underground passageways and in parks.

“Be careful,” Imai Sensei warned. “By law they have to keep your things for three months. But probably you’ll have to pay to get them back. And you’ll need proof the items are yours. So, be sure to have your name on everything you have. In fact, you’d better keep your things with you. And try to keep a low profile when the conference is in session.”

As Imai Sensei was giving this helpful warning, one man kept talking and laughing loudly. Imai Sensei immediately realized he was drunk and severely ordered him to leave. Drunkenness and alcohol are never allowed at any Yomawari activities.

In the evening Toshi sent me a very touching thank you message. Here is what he said, exactly as he said it:

* * *  
Thank you for today!
It was very meaningful experience to me.
Before joining the activity, I felt a little bit nervous because I thought some of homeless people might be being rude possibly. 
They are in that tough situation just because of bad luck and I guess all of them always feel so hurt.
So they may well take a crabby attitude.
But on the contrary, they were very polite to us and when we gave food to them, they said “Thank you”.
I was touched and I felt that I want to help them more and more.

And Imai sensei is great person. Sometimes he scolded some homeless, but I think scolding other people needs much energy, I think his affection for them makes he do that.

* * *

That is very true indeed. Imai Sensei, his business partner Aoki Sensei, and all the volunteers have real love for the people they serve. And it radiates out of the very core of their being.

      

Love,
Anne

In 2005 in Hyogo, Japan, there was also a conference concerning natural disaster risk reduction. At that time this five-colored logo was created. It was designed for the following conference, the one to be held in Sendai this March. It shows five cupped figures of harmoniously blending colors, similar to a rainbow. These figures are symbols of people, from all walks of life, reaching out to one another to form a chain of support. They seem to be holding hands, which adds to their strength and resiliency. In addition, they symbolize the five priority actions for the global community to consider when dealing with disaster situations.

1. Disaster reduction must be a top priority of all countries and communities. In order for this to be implemented, there should be a strong institutional support. This action is the foundation on which all the others stand

2. When dealing with the risks of disaster, three key points should be followed in order to provide early warning: Specify, Observe, Assess. That is, clearly specify the disaster. Observe the situation closely. And assess the most appropriate actions to be taken

 3. All levels of expertise should be considered in order to create a “Culture of Prevention”. These areas include Knowledge, Technology, and Education

4. Anticipate danger. Do everything possible to reduce risks before they occur

5. Focus on preparation for effective responses in times of emergency

 
Here is one very small example of these five points in action. In Sendai approximately every thirty years there is a major earthquake. (The recent 03/11 disaster in Tohoku was born from a different fault line, one that had a 1000 year build-up. Its magnitude far exceeded a “normal” earthquake in this region.) City officials are ceaselessly vigilant in planning for the next emergency.

About five years before March 2011, Sendai City changed its official rubbish bags. Over several weeks, citizens could exchange their old style bags for the new variety. As I was making my exchange, I asked the woman why the city wanted to collect the bags that we could no longer use. “For the next earthquake,” she explained.” You see, we will fill these with sand and use them as walls or to block tidal waves from coming too far.” I was extremely impressed by the farsightedness of this community. And sure enough, five years later, I saw that preparedness in action, and was a fortunate recipient of it myself.

Love,
Anne

Recently two Japanese men were beheaded by ISIS. The news has stunned this country into greater determination to follow a constructive path of building hope where there seems to be none, of providing humanitarian aide where it is most needed, of trying to forge a path towards peace in this troubled world of ours.

Much progress is indeed being made. But, unfortunately, in some arenas things seem to be almost at a standstill. For example, the initial rush of donations and support has given way to less and less concern and fewer contributions to rebuild this area and people’s livelihoods. Also many, especially older folks, are stuck in temporary complexes. 

In light of that, a few citizens’ groups have started making their appearance. They are soliciting signatures for a petition to nudge the government to work faster and more efficiently. They carry banners and place speakers on major shopping streets, announcing their concerns and asking for support.

Adding to efforts toward progress in this Tohoku region, there are many NGOs hard at work, too. Of course, there is the Charity Walk, but there are others as well. One of them is called SAORI. This non-profit is actually nationwide and started long before 03/11. But their chapter in Sendai is doing wonderful work for the recovery here. Essentially, the group is a cluster of women who love to weave. Their products are exquisite art pieces, but are sold at very reasonable prices. “This is our way to uplift the hearts and minds of those who suffer,” they say.

Recently SAORI noticed that contributions to the rebuilding of this area had been slipping, although they are still very needed. So these ladies sponsored a four-day event in Sendai City center. They brought in a group of enthusiastic local singers. And offered their own woven goods for sale.

But in addition to that, they have started an international project. Together with people from all over the world, they are weaving a runner that will be 311 meters long. That specific number is in honor of 03/11, the date that the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami arrived and changed the lives of so many of us forever.

Besides this 311 project, these talented ladies hold weaving classes in their Sendai headquarters. And they also go to temporary housing complexes to work with people there. “We love the symbolism of weaving,” one SAORI member told me. “When we weave, we connect threads. And when we work together with those in need, we connect lives.”

“We see ourselves as the vertical warp threads, upright and strong. We offer others the opportunity to be the woof threads, weaving both with and around us. Together we make beautiful designs. That honors the past with its tragedies, but also blesses the future with its hopes. And of course, there is so much joy in the present, too. That is because we work together as friends to create beautiful pieces of art.”

Indeed, SAORI, the Charity Walk, politically involved individuals, and others like them, are part of the warp and woof of this region now. They are making it more beautiful and hope-filled. This is not only in the physical sense, but also in the mental outlook and inner spirit of all of us who are privileged to call Tohoku home.

We also saw signs all along the hilly main road indicating how far the tsunami had come.  So, the atmosphere was one of great busy-ness and of renewal. It felt hopeful.

Caritas Switzerland decided to focus its work on rebuilding four nursery schools. Why, you might think, would they put their effort into those places, when so much other fundamental work seemed more pressing? One answer is that Caritas Switzerland, like Japan in general, thinks long term. If children have good care, they reason, then young families will be more likely to stay. And indeed, the drain of people from coastal areas has been alarming. Likewise, if formative years are secure and love-filled, then children will have a greater chance of having secure lives. And in the long term, that will make for a more stable society.

(photo copyright Caritas Switzerland, used with permission)

The first nursery school we visited was in Unosumai-cho district of Kamaishi City. It was gorgeous. It had a long wooden corridor with brightly lit rooms, one for each age, off each side. There were windows everywhere, not only for light to enter, but also to allow the youngsters to peer into places like the kitchen or the main playroom.

The building also had skylights on the roof, plus solar and wind power devices. There was a digital chart showing how the natural energy was being used.  It also had well water for the garden and for use in emergencies. And there was a vegetable garden that produced fresh food for the school’s meals. It also gave the children a chance to get their hands in the earth and to be part of the life-giving process of farming.

The building adjacent to the main nursery served as an evacuation center. In Japan schools are used by the entire community in times of emergency. Likewise, this particular school hosted community events throughout the year. And one room was open to the public from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily so any child up to age 6 could come and play, as long as they were accompanied by an adult.

The school itself was not only physically stunning. It was also very welcoming and warm. For example, when we arrived, there were a few bags of vegetables that parents had brought as an offering. And the walls were covered with children’s work.

The ratio of teachers to youngsters was very low: about 1 to 3. As for the  infants, there were 4 teachers for the 9 babies.

Before this facility was open, this nursery cared for its children in a community center. Other nursery schools were housed in buildings provided by UNICEF or by the Japanese government. The community really cares about the future of its children. And the efforts it now makes on its youngsters’ behalf will surely bear fruit in the years to come.

The second place we visited was called Kirikiri Nursery. It was in the Otsuchi-cho district of Kamaishi City. Since it was built on an exceedingly slim edge of newly leveled land, it had two storeys instead of only one. It also had what looked like a veranda on both sides of the building. They were actually easily accessible escape routes for times of emergency.

Upstairs was a large playroom. It had an inviting structure for climbing. “Kids started getting fat when they were trapped in evacuation centers and temporary housing,” our guide told us. “So, this is to encourage them to move their bodies as they should: to run and jump, to climb and play.”

The gentleman who followed along as we toured Kirikiri Nursery was Touemon Azumaya San. He was a jolly 81-year-old man who oversaw this nursery.

After our tour of the facility, he pointed out where the old school had stood for about 50 years. He also indicated where their temporary headquarters had been until a few months ago. And he even showed us the garden on his relative’s property where he grew vegetables for the school lunches.

When we sat down for tea after our tour, Azumaya San brought out hand-written records he had methodically kept for years. Miraculously they had survived the tsunami. He whipped through every page, explaining his detailed notes: what days had been sunny, what had been served for meals, which teachers had been ill.

When he realized our genuine interest, he loosened up and began telling stories further afield. He talked of the war. (He was 10 then). He confessed that he had never finished school, but had gone north to Hokkaido to find work. He told us about the various jobs he had had, how he came back to Kamaishi, married and raised a family. He showed us a photo of his taisho koto musical group. And seemingly in passing, he said, “ This is the last photo taken of my wife and me together. She drowned in the tsunami.” No one in the room had known about his wife. Everyone was speechless, to say the least. Such stoic silence is the nature of Tohoku people. “We don’t want to bother people with our problems,” they explain.

But then his story seamlessly continued. “I love these kids.” 

(photo copyright Caritas Switzerland, used with permission)

“We have to give them the best we can. How else can we create the future that we wish for them? And for the world as a whole as well?”

Love,
Anne