Post-tsunami Japan: Otsugi
This is a blog that I've put off writing but need to write. It's about a tsunami-effected town I visited in late June that has seen little recovery effort and is still greatly suffering.
I went with a group of women from the "Misawa Officer's Spouses Club" to deliver backpacks and school supplies to kids at an elementary school and bring what brief entertainment or distraction we could. We started out at 5am and drove a twisty-turny 5 hour route to a small town along the coast that should have been about 3 hours or less, if not for the damaged roads. We had to go through the mountains and back down to the coast. Shortly after we came out of the mountains, we saw this:


As we drove on the piles got bigger

And then we began seeing the remnants of buildings.....

Finally our caravan stopped at the meeting spot of our host, a Japanese professional flutist whom we were told is well-known and loved by his country, and his translator. He brought us to city hall:

This is the town of Otsugi, in Miyako prefecture. It has a beautiful view of the ocean which our host told us came roaring at them so high that survivors say from a distance, it look like a mountain. Half of the town's government officials, including the mayor, were swept away when the tsunami hit -- the clock on the building shows the exact time. There was a meeting going on on the top floor. A surviving town official we later met was able to get to the roof of the building where he clung all night as fires burned all around him. Down the road one of the elementary schools is black, all the windows broken and burned out. All this was relayed to us from the musican, whose house sits right across the road:
Here he is telling us he is sorry that he cannot make us all some tea......
He was able to joke with us like this, surrounded by the loss of his town-- along with his friends and family. The only thing that remained of his next door neighbor's house was the foundation -- three generations gone, from age five onward. And while he took time off to show us around his town that day, the body of what he hoped was his father was getting genetic testing. That day he was not at home but had driven back to his house in hopes of saving his neighbors...only to be turned around by the oncoming wave. Our host told us that the wave was over the tower-like structures here, in the background:

As we're standing here, gawking and photographing, a Japanese photographer who'd accompanied our group stumbled across somebody's old photo album:
It's somebody's wedding album.
I'm standing there, trying to hold it together and not doing a good job, so I start walking back toward our car. It's hot -- really hot. And the hot wind is kicking up tons of dust and debris and we're all just covered in it, and something blows up against my leg:
So then I lose it.
In awhile, everyone gets back into their cars and we start heading toward the elementary school where we're going to drop off the backpacks and hang out with the children for awhile. Along the way, we pass this guy:
In the heat of the day, dressed in the uniform of the gas station, this guy is pumping gas by pedaling a "hand" pump, since there is still no electricity in town. By this point, it's been more than 100 days since the tsunami. There's not even shelter for him to sit under while he pumps all day. There are still no temporary homes for people to live in -- only the shelters that were set up right after the tsunami. We later visited one, but first we stopped off at the elementary school.
We drove onward through town, passing a sign directing us to five different schools in the area:
The school that we went to was high on a hill and now held the (surviving) students of more than three elementary schools. Three principals met us at the door smiling like we were celebrities, welcoming us inside. I did not bring my camera, but it was actually a happier setting than I expected. Students waved at us happily as they passed by, some practicing their english...."HELLOOOO!!" Things were orderly and "school-like" with cheery posters along the walls and colorful decorations here and there. But along one wall of the great center room were funtons and blankets, evidence that some students and even teachers were living there. A few dozen students had lost at least one parent and at least one dozen had lost both. But those stories were not told and we did not inquire but instead unloaded our donations we'd brought. As I watched the first of us bringing in the loaded backpacks and lay them in rows along the floor, I started to feel incredibly inadequate. What these students needed was a lot bigger than school supplies. Hopefully, I'm thinking, the government is working on it.
Turns out that's not quite the case.