December 13, 2013

Dear Family and Friends,

My last letter portrayed the ongoing grief that pervades Fukushima. Even now that tragedy, along with so many others worldwide, tears at the world’s soul. However, life always seems to find a balance. And the other day a beautiful example of that unexpectedly crossed my path.

In Sendai Station a photo of a newly emerging pine tree caught my eye. Since I love photography and nature, I ventured into the small show to have a look. Before long I found myself completely mesmerized. It was not only because of the fine quality of the images, but also because of their hope-filled message.

To my delight I learned about a Japanese organization that devotes itself to recovery of land through environmentally sustainable development. That, of course, includes planting trees. This admirable endeavor is called OISCA, or to be precise, the Organization for Industrial, Spiritual, and Cultural Advancement. (1) Even though their headquarters are in Tokyo and even though they have projects all over the world, OISCA has come to Miyagi to help in our post-tsunami recovery.

But before going into the wonderful work of OISCA here, please let me digress with a bit of history. Sendai was founded over 400 years ago by a shrewd, but very wise, forward-looking daimyo named Masamune Date. He established many progressive programs for the betterment of this region. One that has endured over the centuries was the planting of a forest of black pine trees all along the coast of Miyagi. The winds in this northeast corridor can be fierce, as can the storms and waves. But having a belt of trees along the sea’s edge serves as a buffer against the fierce challenges of nature.

Because of Masamune Date’s belt of forest, Miyagi had more trees along its coast than either Fukushima to the south or Iwate to the north. That advantage enabled this region to prosper for hundreds of years. However, it also meant that Miyagi sustained the greatest loss of its coastal forest during the infamous tsunami of March 11, 2011.

OISCA is an organization that is on top of world events. So as soon as they realized the extent of the damage in Tohoku, they let the local government of Natori, a small city adjacent to Sendai, know it was available if they wished assistance. (2) OISCA never forces its way into an area. Likewise, it never tells people how to do things. Rather, they offer assistance, accept invitations, and work closely with locals.

“The people have to want us and to work closely with us. Otherwise we do not go to a region,” explained Toshimichi Yoshida San, the manager of this tree-planting project in Natori. 

The Natori Coastal Forest Restoration Project is to run for ten years at the cost of a billion yen (about 10 million dollars) All the money is to come from donations. In this case all money will be entirely from within Japan. (3) “The reason is because of the paperwork involved. As it is, it is overwhelming,” explained Yoshida San with a sigh!

He continued by telling me that the Natori Project has three aspects. “One is tree planting, of course. That is the fun part. Many of the volunteers working with us lost their homes in the tsunami. So they are really eager to be part of this rebuilding. Then there is fund raising. That goes on and on. Finally there is all the organizing and coordinating. Those entail meeting after meeting, as we work to harmonize all aspects of the program. It is hard work, but we are coming along nicely.

“When I started out, I knew nothing about black pines or about a program like this. But I did a LOT of research, interviewed hundreds of government officials, farmers, and other locals. I learned so much. Now we all trust each other, so we work well together.

“And we are pleased with how things are going. The first batch of baby tress is to be planted next spring. It is really very exciting. Of course, I won’t live to see the forest in its full glory. But my grandchildren and great-grandchildren surely will. Knowing that always helps to inspire and motivate me.

“And please be sure to join us next spring. Come as a volunteer and add your efforts to rebuild Miyagi. What you and so many others do will be appreciated for literally hundreds of years.”

Without any hesitation, of course I said I would. Who could not want to be part of such a beautiful, life-enhancing project that is so close to home?

 

(1) Each word of OISCA’s name has a special meaning, which relates closely to its mission. The following definitions are from the Internet. “Industrial” refers to “the promotion of agriculture and other primary industries that are fundamental to human existence.” “Spiritual” is an inner experience not connected to any outer religion. It includes “the need to nurture qualities such as self-reliance, dedication for one`s own community, international brother-sisterhood and respect for Earth`s ecological integrity on which life is grounded.” And finally “Cultural represents the intent to encourage the magnificent cultural diversity that has enriched human life and the universal need to promote cultural patterns such as culture of peace.”

For further information, please visit the OISCA website. It is in both Japanese and English

(2) They chose Natori because it was one of the hardest hit areas, suffering some of the greatest loss of trees

(3) OISCA’s international programs accept worldwide donations

 

 

Love,

Anne

Dear Family and Friends,

Imai Sensei’s Yomawari Group is as busy as ever. I usually do not have time to volunteer with them, but today I was able to assist giving lunch to about forty homeless people. It was pouring rain, but even so we offered warm curry rice under an eave of the Sendai Welfare Plaza.

The Yomawari Group and the people they serve seem like a close-knit unit, almost a family. Among the volunteers, everyone has a role and does it well. I always have a few favorites who show up to help out. One lovely simple soul in particular touches my heart. He always shows up to socialize and help in any way he can.

Another is a very proud man who delights in welcoming the homeless as graciously and politely as if he were ushering them into a tea ceremony. 

He bows to each guest and greets him by name.

It is always a pleasure helping the Yomawari Group. Week after week, month after month, year after year – rain, snow, or shine – they are there to help the homeless of this community. They not only serve hot lunches (along with packaged food and clothes to take away), but also provide showers and laundry services. In addition they find cleaning jobs for the men, and offer counseling for finding housing and more stable work. Some of the volunteers now go to Fukushima to assist there as well.

Yomawari Group serves hundreds of people and is always ready to help those in need. Yet it always stays very personal and deeply caring. Its mission is definitely “From the Ground to the Heart.”

Autumn 2013

Dear Family and Friends,

Rice grown in the Tohoku area is particularly delicious. There are many varieties, each with its own special flavor and texture. In recent years, however, young folks have been flocking to cities for work, leaving mostly oldsters to run the farms. That, in addition to the devastation of coastal areas from the tsunami, plus the impending uplifting of tariffs on imported rice when the TPP comes fully into effect, rice growing in this region seems doomed. (However, it should be added that rice tariffs and TPP are still a hotly debated issue at this time.)

Despite the gloomy predictions about Japanese rice growing, there is an effort to keep the tradition alive. One way is that JA, “Japan Agriculture”, wants to encourage young people to grow Asia’s “gods’ grain” and to feel pride in their work. So, every year in autumn when the harvest is first coming in, there is a small “paddy in a bucket” event for locals with nearby farms.

Prior to this lovely, heart-filled event, each participant receives a blue bucket. Then on a designated day, in it they bring in their best specimen of paddy rice. In my neighborhood they meet outside the main supermarket. The organizers line up all the “bucket-paddies”, ranging from the most gorgeous to the most fragile specimens. There are always lots of farm kids there, too. So the people in charge make their instructive speeches short.

“Kids, and adults, too, see this rice here? Now why do you think this is the best we have today? . . . That’s right. The grains are full and abundant. And look how the stalks bend down so nicely. The field where this was grown must have had good soil, plenty of water, and just the right amount of sunshine.”

Then he moved on to the next bucket. “Now the one here looks great because of the nice green leaves. But if you look closely, you can see where a mite is eating the leaves. No good. This can spread and cause a lot of damage.”

He went to the next. “This one is a bit shabby. There are hardly any grains and the stalks are thin. Needs better water and sunlight.”

After his brief, but informative talk, the main organizer handed out certificates. 

The first-prize winners got a kilo of new rice. 

The next won a box of special Miyagi cakes. Third-prize got a bag full of leeks right off the farm.

Then it was time for a group photo. And of course, “Good luck getting through the winter ahead and see you next year.”

This event is fun because it is so delightfully low-key and local. But deeper than that, it encourages people to be proud of their farming roots and to stick with that tradition to help rebuild this area. And heaven knows, we surely do need that life-giving profession in these days of uncertainty and great change.

 

Love,
Anne

October 2013

Dear Family and Friends,

Very recently, and completely by chance, I noticed a sign about a Charity Walk. It was to take place a few days hence, so I did not have a chance to sign up. But since I am interested in what is happening in this area, I went to check it out.

The start was at Sendai Airport. When I arrived at the early hour of 6:30, I was greeted by a man with a big smile and a sign indicating where to register.  

Surprisingly, even at that early hour, almost all of the 300 participants had already assembled and were receiving a number. 

The organizers were all from Aoba-ya, the company sponsoring the event. They wore bright green jackets and politely directed the participants to their designated groups. To start there were speeches, of course.

The participants came from near and far. Most were from Miyagi, but a few were from Tokyo and even as far away as Nagano. Ages ranged from the 20s to what appeared to be the 70s. One person was blind. One was a foreigner, an American.

One of the organizers told me Aoba-ya Company employees had walked the forty-kilometer course three months before. They wanted to be fully prepared before for sponsoring this meaningful charity event. Having walked it themselves, they knew exactly where rest stops should by, what drinks and snacks should be offered, and the importance of toilets. In fact, three portable ones followed along in vehicles just to be sure no one would be inconvenienced.

The participation fee was ¥10,000, or about $100. Half would go to setting up the walk and the rest to rebuilding efforts in Miyagi. This year the money would go to Ishinomaki, a fishing town north of Sendai. The company plans to hold a similar charity walk every year for ten years. This was the first.

The set off was warm with a smacking of hands for courage. 

Even the old gentleman who started the company and his wife were there cheering people at the start.

It was very moving to see them and to think about what this company was doing for the area. It was also impressive to realize how they were thinking long term and willing to commit themselves to this event for the next ten years.

* * * * *

After I waved good-bye to the last participant, I turned my attention to the area around the airport. I had not been there for about a year, so wanted to explore. It was still very flat and empty, save one smashed building still standing. There were a few pine trees, too, alive but teetering at the same angle the tsunami had left them.

I wandered up to the seawall, still very much under construction. It seemed to stretch for miles. Behind it were long triangular tunnels made of logs. A worker explained that the coastline in that area would be raised several meters. The wooden frames were the foundation for that higher land. When finished, the reconstructed area would become an extensive memorial park. The work should take twenty years or more.

I wondered if I might have a shot of him and his wife this year, too. He beamed, but his wife ran to the truck pretending to be too shy. Actually, she was fixing her hair and pressing down her dress with her hands to be presentable for the photo.

  

They told me this would be the last year they could have their land. Then it would be swallowed up into the memorial park. “We’re still in temporary housing,” they informed me. “No fields there.”

(Temporary housing complex in Natori, outside Sendai)

“We used to have a big house right here. We all lived together. It was lively with all the grandchildren. We loved it. Now everyone is scattered all over the place. A few are in Sendai, but others are as far away as Tokyo.

“Times have changed,” they added with a sigh. “But that’s life, isn’t it? We’re lucky that we are all alive. And anyway, for the prefecture it’s good to be moving forward.” They paused and then added, “Yes, we have to think of what comes after us. That’s what makes today meaningful, even if in our personal lives we have lost so much.”

Philosophical farmers, new land, and a lovely charity walk: Miyagi deliberately and carefully evolving its way into a positive tomorrow.

Of course, physical concerns are taken into account, but of equal or greater importance are the emotions. I remember watching the news immediately after the Great East Japan Tsunami and Earthquake of 3/11. Naturally, the reportage dealt with the horrific images of loss and destruction. But in addition to that, scientists were interviewed about the Fukushima problem. Those experts spent much of their time working to ease people’s concerns.

There were signs on the walls of some announcing activities and meetings, and looking for missing items and people. (There are still quite a few who are unaccounted for.)

There was even an area where people had made vegetable gardens. The earth was first lovingly prepared by university students soon after the residents moved in. After all, most of them there were either farmers or fishermen, so working with their hands and growing their own food came naturally to them.

The whole place felt upbeat, even though I was there when many people were away at work. It was easy to see that many folks were working hard to make the complex feel welcoming and like a community. Medeshima Tobu was more fortunate than others in that for the most part their entire community before the tsunami had been sent to this same complex. So they were not as lost as those in other temporary places.

Dear Family and Friends,

Rie is one of my university students. One day when we were chatting, she began talking about her father. “I really admire him,” she said. “I’ve never seen someone work so hard as he has since the tsunami.” The more Rie talked about her father, the more I wanted to interview him.

The first thing Yoshinori Kikuchi San said to me was, “I am truly a lucky man.” And then his story began to unfold. He had had a large seafood packing and distributing company in Ishinomaki, Miyagi. It was directly near the sea, so not surprisingly, it was devastated on March 11, 2011. 

“At the time of the earthquake, my wife and I were in Tokyo on business. Even down there the earth started shaking violently. We immediately switched on the radio and heard what was happening in Tohoku. I had never had any real experience with tsunami damage because there was a protective wall between our factory and the sea. But something inside said this one was going to be a whopper.

“My factory and family house were very close to one another. I had three daughters at home, so immediately I called them. Luckily, very luckily, I could get through. People calling locally in Tohoku could not get any connection, but we were in Tokyo, so we could. I told my daughters to get to high ground as fast as they could.

 “Then I called the factory. I told the workers to open all the doors and then get as far away from the sea as possible. Opening the doors was important. That way the water could enter the building without much resistance. Then there might be a slim chance that the entire structure would not be destroyed. And it paid off. Water went up to the top floor, but the iron frame of the building held.

 

(The light brown line shows the tsunami water mark. It is on the second floor of the building)

“Again, I was lucky,” he continued. “I had gone to Tokyo by car. There were no buses, trains, or planes at that time, but I had a way to get home. Also very fortunately my car was a hybrid, so it did not need as much gasoline as an ordinary car. Later we recharged our phones and even cooked from it. Lucky!

“Of course, my wife and I were panicked, so we immediately hit the road. We were all right for a while, but as we got closer to Tohoku, the roads became clogged with cars. Everyone was trying to get home. It took us 27 hours of non-stop driving, but we made it.

“Our kids were our major concern. So we headed straight for the school where we thought they might be. There were well over a thousand people there, so finding them took a while. But finally we saw them. I’ll never forget that feeling of utter relief to see my girls – and our dog – all safe and with smiles. We ran into each other’s arms and held one another for a long time.

 

(Small sculpture in front of Ishinomaki Station)

“After resting a bit, my wife and I headed to where our home and factory had been. The army had already started to clear roads, so we could make our way through the rubble. Close to our factory I saw someone wearing my company’s uniform, so I knew he was one of our employees. He seemed dazed, overcome with disbelief. ‘It’s all gone, boss,’ he said almost in tears. Together we went to inspect the damage. Our factory was indeed a huge pile of broken dreams and shattered lives. I was overwhelmed. But I had people who depended on me. I simply could not collapse.

“Again, luck was with me. It came in the form of my wife. She and I had worked together for years. We both looked forward in the same direction. And during that terrible time we continued the supportive teamwork. 

After about three days of stunned shock, she and I sat down and started planning. The first thing was to send the children to relatives. We were very fortunate to have family in another part of Tohoku. Many families all came from Ishinomaki, so had no relatives elsewhere. But my wife was from the Japan Sea area. They really helped us a lot. They took in our kids and supported us in every way they could. One way to thank them is to make my company a success again.

“We had four children and thirteen employees. We felt a tremendous duty to them, and also to our ancestors who started this company. 

All those things really motivated us to act quickly. We did not think it was fair to apply for temporary housing; we were young and not handicapped. So we immediately rented an apartment.

“My wife and I started reading every document we could about how to apply for government compensation money and loans and how to rebuild a business. We were really on the ball, so were some of the first to get started moving forward. We built new buildings, bought new equipment, and tried to reconnect to former business partners.

 

“We couldn’t have done any of this without the help of the government. I really, really appreciate all it has done for us. It’s unbelievable. Do you realize they gave us compensation money that was three-fourths of what we needed? The other quarter was a twenty-year, interest-free loan. Can you believe that generosity? And on top of that, the schools where two of my daughters go gave us free tuition for a year or longer. Unbelievable. You can’t imagine the depth of my appreciation.

     

“Before 3/11 we shipped to a huge area, from as far north as Hokkaido, to as far south as Osaka. But now we can’t do that. First, as I said, the fish aren’t back to the levels of before. And also there aren’t enough boats. There aren’t enough people to shuck the oysters either. And people out of Tohoku are still very cautious about buying things from here. So now we serve the Tohoku and Kansai areas only. We are one of the only companies up and running, but even so, business is still only 25% of what it was before the disaster.

 

(As you can see, Mr. Kikuchi’s factory stands alone. There used to be many houses and factories surrounding it. Now there are only empty lots full of weeds.)

“I realize things may never get back to where they were before. And I feel a tremendous obligation to my family and workers. So my wife and I came up with the idea of asking a friend in the wholesale vegetable business if we could work together. Lucky for us, he agreed. So now I am learning a whole new type of business. One of the vegetables we deal in is edamame. We boil them up and package them in the teeny kitchen we now have. Then we send them out. They are really big in the Sendai area, one of the traditional foods there, so we sell down there. Business is not booming, but it is a start.

“When this vegetable business gets more solid, I am thinking of moving into solar energy. We’re putting it into the new house we are building, so we will be less dependent on the government for our electricity. There wasn’t any electricity for weeks after the disaster and we don’t want to be in that position again. And if we produce an excess, we can always sell it for a bit more income.

“Down the line, I’m thinking of meat. It’s illegal to have fish and meat in the same plant, so I’ll have to build a new place. And I’ll have to learn a lot, too. I am sure the rules and regulations are very different for meat than for seafood. But my wife and I will research and learn. We are constantly growing, and we won’t stop.

“We love Ishinomaki. This place is in our bones. So we can’t let our home turf down. We have to make a future, not only for us, but for this community as well. Luck has been with us from the beginning. And I trust it will continue. It is all about attitude. I focus very intently on making each day be positive. I plan. I work hard. But I also know I have been blessed with very good luck every step of the way.”

Love,

Anne

 

 

---

Another year is beginning. Much more work lies ahead. And more healing and greater wisdom will surely be part of that process.

Dear Family and Friends,

Hikaru Kamada is my student. She is exceptionally eager and motivated in whatever she undertakes. She always wants to learn and to expand her experiences, so she takes on projects and volunteer activities whenever she can. Before the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami, for example, she tutored a junior high school student, taking her from near failing to a strong A in all subjects. Since then she has been involved in volunteer work in temporary housing units. She is also the one who organized the international event that was held at Miyagi Gakuin Women’s University a few weeks ago. She did that part of the Kizuna-Project program almost single-handedly. As you can see, she is a truly amazing person.

Since the earthquake Hikaru has hooked up with a program in her university called MGLac. That means Miyagi Gakuin Liaison Action Center. This group is connected to an NPO called Miyagi Fukko Shien Center, which is Miyagi’s Restart-Support Center. MGLac links volunteers with people living in temporary housing complexes. It seems many other universities also have volunteer programs.

It seems that ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) is on the rise among kids in the Tohoku area. This is especially true of children who lost their parents or homes in the disaster. “They have a really hard time concentrating,” Hikaru told me. “So they are really difficult to teach. But it is important to keep trying.”

Many volunteers, often students and housewives, go to areas where people are still suffering and feeling unsettled in order to give support. They also provide various activities. Hikaru has taught music in one complex and now she instructs youngsters in English in another. An older woman I know is connected to another university’s branch of Lac. She is involved in a choral group for adults. She says it helps everyone in the community very much. People in temporary housing feel cared about and enjoy the carefree social occasions the volunteers provide. And the volunteers feel better, too. They know they are helping others and making a difference in their lives. So these joyous times hold the community together and strengthen it in many important ways.

Hikaru is also involved in a camp for about a hundred children from ages 7 to 12. Volunteers are mostly university students, many of them from foreign countries. The ones Hikaru works with are from the Scandinavian countries, Denmark, Germany, France, England, and Chile. She is the one Japanese in a group of four volunteers. They teach basic English. She loves it. And like my adult friend, she says it gives her a sense of community and of purpose.

There are a lot of volunteer programs happening now. The Miyagi Fukko Shien Center has a webpage, so it is easy to get started. “You just have to get out and do it,” says Hikaru. “And the need is so great. The more you get out and get involved, the more you realize how unstable so many kids are these days. I worry about Japan. So I’m doing the best I can to help other people and my country as well.” And because of people like Hikaru, the future of Japan does indeed seem hopeful.

 

Love,   Anne

PS. Just after this essay was ready to send out, I got a very interesting e-mail from another friend. This is what she said:

I spend most my energy for volunteer job at Arahama area. In Sendai city, only Arahama area was severely damaged by Tsunami on 11th March, 2011.

I came across a group called “Wakamatsu-kai” through a person who graduated Miyagi University of Education several years ago. I am very ashamed that I had absolutely no idea what “Minashi Kasetsu” means.

So many people lost their houses and started living in temporary houses or apartment called “Kasetsu Jutaku.” Those people are under the power of country, prefecture and city (town). So they have been receiving food, goods, volunteer people and all sorts of concerts by famious musicians or artists.

However, people who rent apartments or houses with their own money are considered that they live in “Minashi Kasetsu. (Presumptive Temporary Housing) They have received absolutely No food, No goods, No volunteer people and Concerts were out of question!

I started gathering students who are interested in supporting the people from “Wakamatsu-kai.” First, students started teaching 6 children every Thusday night. Then I started attending Wakamatsu-kai’s monthly event with some students. I went to their Christmas Party on 23rd December for the first time with 4 students. The party was gorgeous as the organiser was a young president of 31 years old who owns two businesses in Sendai. Food was wonderful and a very famous singer came to have a live performance at the event. Besides a world famous teddy bear artist also came with a huge Teddy Bear and lots of middle-size bears. When I saw the young president called Hirotoshi Seki, I was surprised by his bright aura!

And also I forgot to mention that in supermarkets there are people encouraging us to make monthly contributions to provide uncontaminated milk for babies and children. So the work continues. And so many are participating in activities to get this area back on its feet, physically, economically, and emotionally.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Family and Friends,

Did you know that during a major earthquake you should not turn off the gas? I had never realized the danger of that (because of an explosion) until I recently joined a Kizuna-Internatioなる joint program in Sendai. Kizuna’s subtitle is “Youth-Exchange Project with Asia, Oceania, and North America.” It is part of a national organization called JICE, or Japan International Cooperation Center. Internatioなる is a group promoting international relations between foreign and Japanese students here in Sendai. Impressively that local club was started last year by one of the undergraduates of Miyagi Gakuin Women’s University, where I teach.

Kizuna, which in Japanese means “to join”, encourages communication and unity between its members. Its purpose is for education and cultural exchange. The particular program I attended was sponsored by the Japanese government in an attempt to lessen people’s fears about the current situation in this country. Many foreigners have the idea that all of Japan is now dangerous due to nuclear fallout. They also tend to believe that no real progress has been made in hazardous areas. That of course means that business is down. Tourists do not want to come here and many governments are restricting the import of Japanese goods, especially agricultural and fisheries products.

The day of the Sendai workshop there were a total of about ninety students from nine Asian countries: Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, The Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and of course, Japan. 

(Afghanistan)

              

      

(Two Pakistan photos courtesy of Maajid Maqbool)

Prior to coming to Sendai that enthusiastic cluster of students had visited several places along the devastated northeast region of this country. In particular they had witnessed firsthand the destruction in Ishinomaki and the nuclear challenges in Soma, Fukushima. After Sendai they would go to Tokyo for a few days before returning to their home countries to teach others what they had learned while here.

On the day of the Sendai program, most participants wore traditional costumes, so the auditorium was vivid with colors and designs of all sorts. Speeches and presentations were in Japanese and English, with a rich variety of accents and intonation. The energy was alive and positive. Everyone wanted to learn as much as possible. So they listened attentively, asked questions eagerly, and expressed their opinions openly.

I had been asked to give a short speech. I told about my personal experiences, with special emphasis on how remarkable the Japanese had been and still were. I also mentioned my book Letters From the Ground to the Heart. Interestingly, afterwards several people came up to me and commented that was the first time they had heard about the remarkable attitude and behavior of the Japanese people after the March 11 tragedy. They pointed out that the people they had talked to tended to be very self-depreciating, so never mentioned themselves. Rather they stressed their gratitude for others’ assistance. I was pleased that they could see the Japanese in a very positive light. And I hope there will be better understanding and constructive work between Asian nations in the future.

After my talk there was a general discussion, and then a representative from each country said what they had learned so far during their stay in Japan. They also told us how they planned to use the information gained when they returned home.

Most said the same things in terms of safety measures during an earthquake:

Don’t run out of the building.

Protect your body, especially your head and torso.

Be sure of your own safety before helping others.

Only one group was astute enough to point out that staying in a building or not depended on the situation. In Japan the architecture is designed to be earthquake resistant, so staying inside might be the best option (but even then, not always). In other places getting out of buildings is essential for safety. For example, several Japanese students died in the New Zealand earthquake because they hovered inside buildings when they should have gone outside.

Another thing all the students said was that the nuclear danger was much less than they had believed. Before coming they had imagined the entire Tohoku region, if not all Japan, to be in serious trouble from fallout. But on this trip they learned that western Tohoku had not been touched by the disaster, except indirectly. And they could see that eastern Tohoku was slowly getting back on its feet.

The students had also been told that areas outside the Fukushima No-Go Zones were 100% safe. They had visited a farm with strawberries growing in greenhouses and could see that the plants were uncontaminated. However, from locals’ point of view that information is probably very questionable. Farmers as far away as Sendai report higher levels of radiation in their fields. It is slight, but still higher than before the nuclear problem. This was not mentioned in the workshop.

When these bright souls return to their countries, they hope to teach the people about the situation in Japan. They plan on using several methods: the Internet, Facebook, and social networking, of course. They will also use newspapers, magazines, and radios for more traditional methods. Also they will make T-shirts, bookmarks, and fliers in schools, and even hold parties and family gatherings to spread the word.

From what the students reported and how they behaved, it was easy to see their focus on and commitment to Asian unity. There was a sense of power and pride in being part this territory. And for many complex reasons, both obvious and subtle, Japan is wisely taking a lead in establishing goodwill between many countries in this vast and varied region of the world.

Love,

Anne

The facilitators of the workshop I joined, Nana and Joe Bright, are the coordinators for TRE in Japan. 

They give TRE workshops all over the country, using their income to fund no-cost workshops in Tohoku. Nana has been a counselor for 25 years, and has always felt that talk-therapies are limited, especially for those who don’t usually speak about their feelings. She always sensed there must be something more, other ways to relieve people of their stress and traumas. Joe specialized in PTSD at University. When he graduated, he felt disillusioned, feeling there were few methods to help people wrestling with life’s largest issues. So he, too, was looking for ways that might help others more deeply. Soon after the Tohoku earthquake, they came across information about TRE. Their level of openness enabled them to immediately see the potential of that form of therapy.  “This is it!” they cried. “This is what we have been looking for for years! And this is what we can use to help the people of Tohoku!” So he and Nana went to America and South Africa to train with Dr Berceli, learning all they could to bring TRE to the Japanese people. In January, they invited Dr. Berceli to Japan, and gave the first in a continuing series of no-cost Tohoku workshops.

Tohoku people by tradition and training are reticent to speak of emotional issues, so they hold upsetting feelings within, and bravely soldier on. In TRE you do not speak. In fact, you do not even have to be aware of what trauma is being released or to re-experience it psychologically. So, it seemed perfect for Tohoku people. And it is. The workshops Nana and Joe offer here are always full and very much appreciated.

Nana and Joe give freely from their hearts to us here in Northeast Japan, many of us still so deeply troubled and confused. And as they do so, somehow this area is being healed. One ordinary person at a time. And then from one to the many.

As I continue doing the TRE exercises on my own, I realize more and more that each one of us has the potential to heal Tohoku – and the world – so it can become its beautiful, radiant, natural self once again.

 Love,   Anne

To end our afternoon chat, I asked him if he had any message for young people today. He thought for a moment and then said:

October 2012

Dear Family and Friends,

A few weeks after the tsunami of last year a friend wrote to me and told me of a project he and his art students were involved in. They were painting a small shed in northern Miyagi Prefecture in a village called Shizugawa in Minami Sanriku-cho. That useful edifice had been constructed for fishermen by another set of university students. The fishermen were grateful because they had lost everything. But they wanted something bright and happy to encourage them as they struggled physically and emotionally to come to terms with what was happening at that tragic time. So they asked my friend to help them out.

Not only were the images joyous and bright, but also the small hut became a focal point for the struggling survivors. In fact, it became a sort of community center. Meetings were held there, foreign volunteers congregated there, and fishermen gathered there each day to encourage each other as they faced the daunting tasks before them.

Since that time much has changed. The fishermen were finally permitted to build a proper warehouse for their goods and many volunteers left, so the merry little hut no longer held the vital importance it once did. In fact, my friend assumed it had been dismantled. Even so, I wanted to go check out the place on the off chance the walls themselves might still be hidden away somewhere, stowed as something joyful to remember. So after more than a year of trying to find a time we both were free, my friend, his wife and I set off.

It was a lovely drive through northern Miyagi at this time of rice harvesting. There were poles of rice drying and old farmhouses with thatch or slate roofs. The farms were alive and gorgeous with their backdrop of high blue mountains contrasting the golden fields. But as soon as we got to the coast, things began to change. Suddenly devastation was everywhere.

I was astonished to see how far behind the clean up job in this area was compared to places closer to Sendai. There were still large chunks of concrete covering much of the now-open space. Frames of buildings still dotted the landscape. 

Volunteers are still coming from all over the country to help out. Not as many as before, but they are still there. We even saw a tent village where they were staying. 

But people had made lovely cutout messages on their property expressing thanks to those before them and hopes for the future.

Water was everywhere. The earth had sunk about a meter because of the tremendous force of the earthquake, so the water table was higher than before. Despite the mud and muck, however, backhoes were working non-stop in an effort to clear out the rubble.

Typical of other places along the coast, Shizugawa was an uneven blend of effort. Some areas were still totally unusable, while others were getting back on their feet. As we came into the coastal area, for example, sitting in the midst of mud and debris was a new temporary shopping center. It was small, but had shops of all sorts. There were restaurants, of course, and fishmongers. There was also an electrician, a chiropractic center, and a beauty parlor. The place had opened about half a year ago and gave hope to the locals that better times were soon to come.

There were other signs that things were moving forward, too. Of course, we had to give our greetings to the vociferous fishermen of the year before. When we explored the area to find them, we came upon a large office and warehouse. And there they were. Of course, they invited us in. They told us that this place had opened in the early part of the year. They said they were doing well and then proceeded to explain.

It seems before the earthquake there were two setups for fishermen. They could either work on their own or join a union. If the chose the latter, they had to give all their catch to the union and in turn they all received the same wage. Profits went to the union. So after the tsunami, twelve friends decided to forge a different route. They started their own cooperative. As with the union, they give all their catch to the group, but unlike the union, their earnings fluctuate according to what they make on the market. That is, the profits go to the fishermen, not to the union. They have found that they are making far more and are enjoying the work much more, too.

Their leader told us that the tsunami actually helped the fishing beds. Before they were filled with reeds and other plants that got in the way of growing scallops and oysters. But the raging tsunami waters cleared all that away, so now they can easily grow their shellfish and also seaweed. So it has been a real boom for them.

I asked where the seafood went from there. “To be honest, I don’t know,” he admitted. “We are fishermen. That is our job. We sell our goods to a distributor and then head back to our boats. That is our life. That is our interest. The rest if up to others to be concerned about.”

But he did know about the future plans for his town. Unlike in other areas where there is an ongoing struggle between the government and individuals over property rights, people in Shizugawa seem eager to get rid of their water-ruined land. The earth has sunk too much for building again, so better to get rid of it, even at a reduced rate. And now the government has extended time allowed in temporary houses, so there is not the rush to get out and rebuild. Even so, most active members of the community want to get out, want to have a place of their own. “If we stay too long in those government places, we will become lazy and complacent. Don’t want that. We are strong and want to stand on our own two feet, have a place of our own, have our lives fully back again. We need our own houses for that.”

The town’s government has put together a workable plan for the future. Now they, like everywhere else up and down the coast, are waiting for the federal government to come through with promised funding. When? No one knows. “But we aren’t sitting around waiting for that day,” the fishermen’s leader said. “The time is now. And we are seizing it.”

And with that he looked at his watch. “Sorry to be a bit rude,” he said apologetically. “But I have to get up at 2 a.m. tomorrow, so it is getting time for me to head home and hit the sack.” (It was 4:30 p.m.) “It’s been nice talking to you.” And then he raced out, packed up a large box of luscious scallops for us, and sent us on our way.

We then traced our way back through the rubble, past the hope-filled shopping center, and then the stunning farms. We were full of thoughts and gratitude for the enriching day we just had. And of course, we hope the best for the folks of Shizugawa and for all those up and down the coast of this physically devastated, but humanly magnificent region of Japan.

Love,

Anne 

 

But there are also some good pieces of news that come through, too. Last week we had a very forceful typhoon that raged through this area for several days. It brought pounding rain, of course, high winds and strong tides. We got through that OK, even though when it was over, the streets were ankle deep in water and full of broken tree branches.

Anne

May 22, 2012

Fukushima has a terrible reputation now because of the nuclear problems. No one wants to go there or to buy anything from there, even though many of the farms are in the west of the prefecture, far from the contaminated area. But this group chose Fukushima, the Soma area, for several reasons. One was because a member was born in Soma. Also it was an easy and pleasant day trip from Sendai. But mostly we wanted to lend our support to the people of that devastated prefecture. We hoped that somehow our positive attitude and presence would at least encourage the people we met. And of course, the few things we bought would help the struggling economy, even if only a little.

In Sendai these days we see cars from all over the country. Some people have come for work, others for school. Many are still here for relief efforts. But in Fukushima every car we saw, besides our own, was from Fukushima itself. People are avoiding the entire prefecture, even though most places in it have no nuclear fallout.

After a relatively easy hike with gorgeous forest and mountain views, we decided to drive back to Sendai along the coast to see how things were progressing there. Even though the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami occurred over a year ago, to this day being in damaged areas is still a deeply arresting experience.

In coastal Soma an enormous area of homes had been completely wrecked by the tsunami. Since then the clean up job has been impressive. Essentially very little remains. The area is mostly wide open space with nothing but a lone tree or the shell of one house here, another there. Even now, many months later, the silence is deep and penetrating.

 

We went to where the train station had been. There we could see where the tracks had once stood, with remains of the platforms, crumbled train cars, and shattered toilets. It was haunting. Somehow the life once there could still be felt and seemed to echo in the still soggy, salty earth and ocean breeze.

The whole scene reminded me of two poems. The first by Tu Fu, the second by Basho. 

“The whole country devastated,

only mountains and rivers remain.”

 And

“Summer grasses:

all that remains of great soldiers’

imperial dreams”

 

A little further down we came upon an old woman with a floppy hat and a hoe. We stopped to talk with her and she told us her story. She was standing where her large traditional farmhouse had been. There were huge rocks that had been part of her Japanese garden. And to one side gracious violet poppies were bobbing in the wind. “I used to plant these every year,” she told us, “but of course, I couldn’t last year. But somehow the seeds survived the tsunami and now there is this beautiful patch of flowers. There’s nothing else left. But the flowers are so kind, so I come here whenever I can, just to look at them.”

Then she told us how she and the other family members had headed for high ground as soon as the earthquake hit. “We knew we had very little time, especially because our house was so close to the sea. So, we raced away without taking anything. Now all we have is our lives, but the government is allowing us to stay in a temporary home for a while. After that we have no idea. We are old and have no jobs. We really don’t know what we are going to do.”

The problems up the entire coast from Fukushima to the tip of Iwate are huge. What to do with the devastated land? Most of it is privately owned, so the government cannot step in and force everyone to leave for good. It would like to, though, because then administratively things would be a lot easier. The entire coastal area could be turned into parks, with fish factories and warehouses beyond them, and residential areas the furthest from the life-giving, but threatening sea. But many people along the coast have died. And others do not want to give up their ancestral property.  Japan works by consensus. In theory that means everyone is given a say and everyone’s wishes and ideas are taken into account. So negotiations are painfully slow.

In the meantime, people wait. They wait even as they look for work. They wait even as they return to their now empty land to feel a sense of roots and continuity. They wait as the prefecture and national governments go back and forth as to policy. They wait even as Tokyo Electric Company begrudgingly pays compensation money to people in Fukushima’s nuclear area. Everything seems to be on hold.

Is there hope? It is hard to say. Alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicides continue to rise. Many, many feel a deep, dark sense of despair. Yet, too, there is a strong sense of resignation. But a sense of the future? No, not now. Not yet . . .

Or is there? As we drove by a wide area now empty of homes, we saw a small, newly built Shinto shrine. It was sitting in the center of a family’s lot, by itself, clear and strong. Although it had been placed there to honor the deceased and to protect the spot from further harm, its presence seemed to exude a sense of gentle, but pervasive defiance. It stood there, “strong in the rain, strong in the wind” (1), simply refusing to accept defeat. It was solitary, but surely not alone. In fact, it seemed decidedly pregnant with the hope of better and happier times to come.