This week, during a two-day visit to a hot spring in Hakone, I spent the evening of March 11 glued to the TV news programs commemorating the 5th anniversary of what's known here as 3/11. That's the date when a powerful earthquake produced a huge tsunami off the coast of Tohoku, resulting in the deaths of nearly 20,000 people amid extensive destruction of their communities. Shortly afterwards, the shock of the quake turned the heavily-damaged Fukushima nuclear reactor into a deadly radiation source, still leaking and uncontrolled 5 years later. The news stories gave the resilience of people and the on-going reconstruction its proper due; yet, the focus was on all of the grief and suffering and uncertainty that still remains. Here's a short video of some of the observances here in Japan.
My memory strand wove into those stories my own story on March 11, 2011. I was visiting Japan, finishing the closure process I started a year earlier when I retired from teaching. One of the things I had wanted to do in Japan but never gotten around to was a Vipassana meditation course. A 10-day course was starting on March 8 in Kyoto, so I signed up and left Yokohama where I had been staying with my good friend Junko and her partner. Excited about deepening my meditation practice, I began the program which involved setting aside cell phones, computers, books and so forth, necessities in daily life but distractions at a retreat. I settled into the routine of meditation sessions and silent meals--until the third day when a notice appeared on the news board. It reported the tsunami and invited participants to call home if they wished. I didn't think that was necessary for me, as Kyoto was far from the disaster site. In fact, we hadn't felt the quake or its aftershocks at all. The next day another notice appeared. This one announced the nuclear disaster in Fukushima. A number of participants left that day. On the 5th day, the retreat was cancelled. The effects of the nuclear accident were unpredictable and likely to worsen, we were told. Embassies were already calling on their nationals to return home.
I felt a strange disconnect as the bus dropped us off at Kyoto station. There life seemed so normal as workers and shoppers went about their daily routine. I took a train to Kobe and from there went on by bus to my friend Sumi's house, where I had planned to stay for a few days after the retreat. There I caught up with email and Facebook posts, realizing with dismay that friends and family had not known I was safe. US news was filled with footage of the tragedy, with no coverage of normal life in Kyoto.
For the first time, I began watching TV coverage of the disasters along with hourly reports on the radiation levels and containment efforts at Fukushima. Through those programs and talks with Sumi, I began to understand the magnitude of the disaster, feeling increasingly worried and off balance. How much security we take for granted in daily life (those of us not in a country at war, that is) and how quickly it can disappear. Like Kyoto, Awaji was not seismically active then. I left a few days later and returned to eastern Japan.
In Yokohama aftershocks continued--though none severe enough to force us outdoors. There were rolling blackouts and lights in stores were dimmed or shut off. Every day brought more news stories, but no resolution of anything. Relief efforts were underway, but tsunami victims continued to suffer in relocation centers in Tohoku, where the weather remained cold and rainy. In Tokyo I heard friends' stories: walking home for hours after the trains stopped on 3/11, running outside shaking buildings and hugging neighbors in fear, discussions about staying or leaving. By then it was vacation time for university teachers, with school due to start again in April. Although I had hoped to stay until early April to see the cherry blossoms once more, I left early. Airlines allowed ticket changes for no extra charge.
Now 5 years later I'm in Japan again, listening to stories of progress or lack of it, wondering if 3/11 changed people's lives as much as 9/11 did in the US. Though it's hard to generalize, I believe it did. A newly-energized people's movement against nuclear power in this earthquake-prone country took hold, and volunteer efforts aimed at relief and social change emerged. As is the case everywhere, though, change is hard to come by. The current government has authorized the reopening of nuclear facilities closed since 3/11, saying the country cannot produce enough energy without it. I sense from my friends that safety in Japan is just not taken for granted as it once was. Every community is making disaster management plans.
In a couple of days I'll go to Tohuku with Junko for 5 days. For the last two we'll join a volunteer group planting flowers in communities affected by the tsunami. Another blog to follow. Meanwhile I'll continue to follow the news, including news from back home. It seems that the Donald, Hillary and Bernie will be part of my Japan trip as well.
