House of Wonders and the Nocturnal Rooster

Here’s the fourth chapter of my mini-adventure story.  To briefly summarize my previous three posts, I have arrived in the tiny village of Ooshima in Nagano Prefecture after a long and hair-raising day of travel, attended a festival and chugged up a muddy mountain in a broken-down van.  I have met Hiromi and Geta-san, owners of the organic farm called the Fresh Start School, and heard the story of their daughter Haru; she and her husband Junpei fled Tokyo with their newborn twin boys after the Great East Japan Earthquake and have remained on the farm since then.  I have feasted on fried cubes of goat cheese, hearty miso soup, brown rice and beans, and some unidentified but delicious greens…..and that is where today’s post begins.

Solar panels on the main house are clearly visible from this vantage point ( or at least they are if you enlarge the picture).

So let me start off this new post with a description of the main house at the Fresh Start School. Upon first glance, the large wooden house appears to be thrown together rather than constructed, but although the wood is weathered and unfinished, a closer look reveals that it is in fact quite nicely built. “It’s sturdier than it looks,” my daughter had assured me, and I trusted that it was.  Solar panels attached to the roof produce more than enough power to run the household. “I can’t be bothered with batteries big enough to store all that power, ” admitted Geta, ” so I sell it to the local electric company instead. Then I buy back from them the small amount that our family needs. Heh-heh. Cheap and easy. ” So in fact the Fresh Start School IS connected to the grid, but just barely. The rest of the farm is self-sufficient.

One side of the veranda reveals gourds, laundry, and crates full of dried , salted cherry blossoms.

The veranda is chock full of potted flowers, rubber boots, hanging laundry, hanging gourds, milk crates, and a glorious mishmash of containers and baskets full of mysterious contents. I wondered how they got all these items indoors in a hurry before a typhoon, but did not ask. And from the crazy and colorful chaos of the veranda, the door opens into the main living area, a large central space used for cooking, dining, and relaxing.

My immediate impression of the interior was of a combination Indian bazaar and dimly-lit-but-inviting used bookstore. Naked light bulbs hung from the ceiling, one in each area, revealing floor to ceiling shelves literally stuffed with books (overflows stacked on the floor), as well as statues and souvenirs from various countries. The “entertainment system” consisted of an old analog TV and a dusty shelf of videocassettes. The main room looked to be heated by a good-sized wood stove into which the babies had been peering during our dinner, sifting through the ashes and experimenting freely. Two well-worn sofas with a rough hewn coffee table in between formed a cozy nook for reading or conversation.

The dining area consisted of two low coffee tables pushed together, and the kitchen was a rather uninviting dark alcove with a small sink from which cold water flowed, a gas stove with pull-out fish grill, and a wooden center island heaped with jars of pickles, sauces, teas and condiments.  No store-bought salad dressing, jam or boxes of tea, as literally everything stored (or jumbled together) in the kitchen area had been made from ingredients grown or found on the farm and concocted by Hiromi, Mama Haru or one of the acolytes who come and go according to the season.  “Well, what about things like soy sauce?” you ask.  The answer is the same. Shoyu is home-made, beginning with the soy beans, which are then harvested, cooked, mixed with flour, allowed to ferment and become moldy, and finally squeezed into liquid through a cheesecloth. The whole process takes from six months (according to Wikipedia) to several years (according to my daughter, who insists that the fermentation process cannot be completed so quickly) and is not for the faint of heart who, I surmise, do not last long at the Fresh Start School.

Mini-bird carved by my Ellen now perches on the “viewing shelf” in front of the composting toilet.

And now for the bathroom! It was set off from the kitchen in its own  private space below the staircase leading to Geta and Hiromi-san’s bedroom. Pushing open the door, the standard Japanese bathroom slippers are set out, and a quite regular-looking porcelain toilet sits squarely in the middle of a good-sized room. The quite regular-looking toilet also has the standard fuzzy knitted seat warmer (readers abroad must imagine it), and only the smell gives a clue that this is actually a composting toilet–no flush, no pipes, and a deep hole in the ground at the bottom. The toilet is set with its back toward the door, facing a long shelf attached to the wall. The shelf , which is laden with tiny objects, is the perfect level for viewing when perched on the toilet seat; one can relax and contemplate shells, leaves, small trinkets, and carved wooden objects several times a day, and presumably the odor gets easier to ignore over time. I was delighted to spy a small wooden bird that resembled one of my daughter’s creations among the objects set out for viewing, and Hiromi later confirmed that this was so.

My obsessively neat mother-in-law and most of my Japanese housewife friends would consider the entire interior of the house “migurushii” , or “painful to look at”, simply because things were out in the open rather than stored neatly away in cupboards or closets.  “Oh, the dust!” they would say. And no doubt, any potential acolyte with a house dust allergy would not last 30 minutes inside the main house. Me? I was fine. Like the babies, my eyes were pulled this way and that as I admired knick-knacks, peered into containers, and strained to read book titles in the dim light. Dust was inconsequential.

Of course, unlike the babies, I took care to appear casual and polite rather than open-mouthed and curious. I was also desperately in need of sleep, stifling my yawns with only mixed success.  Hiromi, noting my distress, remarked, “Hmmmm….where should we put you tonight? ”

I immediately offered to sleep in the same cabin that my daughter had used the previous month, if it was available.

“I don’t know…it’s really….primitive…” said Hiromi doubtfully (testing me?).

This, of course, caused my spine to straighten automatically as I protested, “No, no, I’ll be fine! Just point me in the right direction!” ( Is she intimating that I’m a Princess?  I can do “primitive” with no problem.  I’m just out of practice, that’s all…)

“Good, good. The cabin is just past the Octagonal House. Follow the path and you’ll find it, even in the dark, ” said Grampa Geta-san cheerfully. He had taken out his false teeth with a great sigh of relief and looked ready for bed himself.

My room for the night, as seen in daylight.

So I set off alone into the black night, wondering exactly what my landmark was, as I had not understood “Octagonal House” in Japanese. Really, it does not come up in everyday conversation. Squelching down the muddy path in my rubber boots, I made my way toward what appeared to be a lighted building (I did not notice its unique shape as I passed by, though from the sounds I understood that Haru, Junpei and the babies lived here) and literally bumped into my destination, which was a tiny shack at the end of the path. My room for the night.

There was no knob, no latch and the door was not tightly fitted.  I simply pulled it open and stumbled in, fumbling to get out of my muddy boots. Thankfully, I could make out a lightbulb with a string attached, and thankfully it worked when I gave it a hopeful tug. I took stock of my surroundings in the light: enough room to set my backpack on the floor, a flimsy shelf for my glasses and iPhone, and a ratty-looking futon laid out on a wooden pallet.  Literally no room to move about, so sleeping was the only option here. “This is the cabin that my daughter adored,” I thought, seeing her through new eyes. By the foot of the futon was a pile of rather musty-smelling quilts which I spread out, ignoring the odor.  At this point, any aesthetic preferences were pointless and I only hoped to spend a pain-free and relatively comfortable night.

Now I am not only a good sleeper but I am a determined sleeper as well, especially when faced with the prospect of an early morning in unfamiliar circumstances. So without bothering to change into fresh clothes I fell into my makeshift bed, pulled up the covers, and was sound asleep within a matter of minutes.

The first few hours were blissful. Or I assume they were, as I have no memory of them. I cannot, however, forget my rude awakening at an ungodly hour by a hoarse cry that seemed to come from outside my window. Despite being sleep-befuddled, I soon identified it as….a rooster!  Wait–roosters mean morning! ….Was it morning?? ….Where was my iPhone? And I had to pee!! ….Suddenly, I was wide awake, and fumbling for my faithful iPhone, which read 3 a.m.  Noooooo.  I stumbled into my rubber boots, pushed open the door, and immediately wished for a penis. It was seriously cold, and the grass was high and wet. I did my best to pee neatly and discreetly (the rooster might be watching) in the muddy grass outside the cabin.  Then back inside, out of the boots again and into bed, I determined to return to sleep. I am good about being able to do that.

This time, however, my determination was most severely tested by the rooster, who had convinced himself that it was morning and was now obligated to alert the rest of the world. The persistant fowl squawked and crowed intermittently until at last it truly WAS morning, at which point he was joined by a chorus of bleating goats.  And then I knew that I was up for the day as well.

So passed my first and only night at the Fresh Start School. Having spent the last few hours in a torturous cycle of sleeping and waking, I gave up the fight. Shouldering my backpack and grabbing my glasses and phone, I and threw open the door to the cabin to face the day ahead. My daughter had warned me that bathing was an “event” occurring every third day since bathwater had to be heated by making a fire, so I knew there would be no refreshing shower to start the morning. Instead, I trudged back through the squelching mud and up to the main house, where I would spend the day working at whatever tasks were set out for me. But that will be my next and final post. Until then, take good care and thank you again for reading.

Morning on the veranda of the main house.

Tsunami Rubble Shipped Abroad for Profit? ( and other Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Ideas )

Scanning my facebook feed this morning, my eyes lit on the latest post from Helen Caldicott, decrying a recent proposal to move more debris from Northern Japan.  This time, the plan is to ship rubble from Iwate and Miyagi Prefectures across the ocean to the Mariana Islands for recycling and disposal. Led by a group of Japanese investors who promise mutual benefits and profit, the scheme (perhaps I should not have legitimized it

Pagan Island: future dumping ground for Japan’s unsavory debris?

with the term “plan” in the first place) involves sending debris-laden ships to an uninhabited volcanic island north of Saipan, unloading the rubble and beginning the recycling process while simultaneously setting up a mining industry for pozzolan ( I flipped back and forth between Wikpedia and the American Heritage Dictionary at this point, learning that pozzolan is a vitreous, sileceous material found in volcanic ash that reacts with calcium hydroxide to unlock gradually-strengthening cement-like properties), with the aim of sending those same ships back to Japan full of rocks (the pozzolan) that will be used in the making of cement…….Sound complicated?  Time-consuming?  Well, for starters, there’s no harbor, airstrip, electricity or running water on the island.  And what about permits, licenses, official safeguards and regulations?  Project head Isamu Tokuichi, chairman of the board of the Kansai Oil Company and president of the New Energy Corporation, isn’t concerned with these minor details at present. He promises a mutually beneficial long-term arrangement, with profit involved for the place in question, Pagan Island, and relief for trash-laden Tohoku.

Well, never mind logistical complications. It’s clearly an ethical and moral issue, although neither the Japanese investors nor Froilan Tenorio, former governor of the Northern Mariana Islands, are presenting it as such. While the current governor of Saipan is dubious, and private citizens of the Marinara Islands are protesting the use of Pagan Island as a waste dump,

Pagan Island, seen from the ground. (Photo by David Sischo)

Tenorio assured local news reporters that the Japanese emissaries are, “…interested only in Pagan and they want to buy pozzolan, which will be loaded onto ships that will be empty after bringing debris to the island. ”  Hmmm.  Project leader Tokuichi assures Marinara Island officials and residents that all debris coming from Tohoku will be non-radioactive and non-toxic: safe for handling and exposure, and posing no threat to the welfare of the island and its ecosystem.

It’s all in what one wants to believe, isn’t it?  After continued betrayals and lies portrayed as truth, it’s hard to fathom that so many folks in this country still swallow official pronouncements whole, without bothering to chew. What exactly is the government “safety standard”, and how is it measured?  How is it compared with the standard held by other countries or by the standard set for previous generations in Japan?  Is the particular danger being measured the only potential danger involved, or are there others that are less-publicized? And most importantly, is accepting the “promise” of harmlessness worth the weight of the implied risk?

As of now, the development of Pagan Island for waste recycling, landfill (20 percent of Japan’s debris will actually be left on the island and buried), and mining is only an idea. But greed moves swiftly, and I still cannot believe that within a year after the triple

Hosono Goshi, making his plea to “share the burden” at a temporary storage site for debris in Ishinomaki. (photo by Kyodo News)

disaster, Hosono Goshi’s plan to spread tsunami rubble across the country for burning has come to fruition. When first announced that every prefecture across Japan would be encouraged to “share the burden” of Tohoku, I assumed that it would be quickly rejected as an obviously half-baked idea. But as the “encouragement” was further defined as financial rewards for those prefectures agreeing to receive rubble, the clear waters were muddied, and the transport of debris officially began.  You will note that I refrain from referring to it as “radioactive debris”, since the government claims that the rubble has been tested as safe for burning–no nasty radioactivity will linger in the air or on the ground.

Whether that’s an accurate assessment or not (the blogger EX-SKF, to name just one source, is convinced that rubble in the surrounding prefectures of Fukushima is definitely contaminated with radioactivity), people that I speak with at anti-nuclear events in Tokyo all tell me the same thing: it’s not that simple. They are afraid of and concerned about much more than radioactive particles.  Building standards were different decades ago, and rubble from the older houses destroyed in Tohoku is contaminated with asbestos, PCBs, and other potentially harmful toxins.  A quick peek into a blog for firefighters (who must be highly motivated to stay well-informed on the potential health effects of burning buildings) reveals a detailed list of hazardous building materials, along with the declaration that, “Any building in today’s world contains materials that are hazardous to our health. They range from materials that can be toxic with short-term or low-level exposure to those that can be toxic or carcinogenic years after exposure to those that are only irritants.”  As a citizen of Saipan wrote in a  letter to a Micronesian paper , “By the way, the definition of waste is precisely that, WASTE!”  ….and that’s the long and short of it: there’s no conceivable positive spin.  Whatever the exact degree of toxicity and danger, no-one in his right mind could argue that a big pile of waste is better broken up and spread about than kept contained in one place. Yet that’s exactly what’s happening, with the boundaries now being further extended to include other countries.

“Hey, don’t mess with my territory!” (Photo, by David Sischo, of just one of the species found on Pagan Island)

How can the removal and transport of waste from Japan be presented as a business deal, with no consideration of ethical issues (or at least ethical issues related to Pagan Island?)  And who will speak up to protect the ecosystem of an island devoid of inhabitants?  Citizens of neighboring islands in the Marinara chain are already raising their voices, as are bloggers from across the ocean. And because the Mariana Islands are legally a Commonwealth (defined by American Heritage Dictionary as a “self-governing, autonomous political unit voluntarily associated with the United States”), they fall under the legislation of the Environmental Protection Agency, which is already on the alert and monitoring the situation.  Some speculate that even if permission can be obtained on a federal level (which could take up to five years), potential lawsuits could cause even further setbacks.

It seems that Japanese legislation may also prevent the deal from going through; blogger EX-SKF reports that on Friday, May 11th, a Miyagi Prefecture official stated his “appreciation for the offer”,  adding that according to the law, shipping debris abroad would be “impossible” unless Japan has no other options within its own country.  Former  Governor Tenorio and the Japanese investors, apparently refusing to take no for an answer, are still moving ahead with plans; according to a March 16th article in the Saipan Times, Japan will be sending engineers and other technical experts to Pagan Island “as early as next week” to gather data and formulate a more detailed plan.

Let us hope that that the combined efforts of individuals and government regulations will be enough to nip a terrible idea in the bud.  Pagan Island may not be inhabited by humans (though it was, until 1981),  but it houses a fragile ecosystem including several endangered

Another Pagan Island critter, posing for his photo by David Sischo.

species which are already disappearing from the more popular tourist destinations of Guam and Saipan.  I’m excited to have discovered photographs of some of the wildlife on the island, taken by a biologist named David Sischo.  Do take a look–I guarantee you will catch your breath at least once, and possibly see snails in a new light from now on.  Airstrips, harbors, quarries, recycling and incineration facilities, as well as landfills, will threaten the habitat of the creatures you see in the photos.  Both the native peoples and the ecosystem of Pagan Island have already suffered at the hands of the Japanese government (read a bit about the island’s history here); at least the ecosystem remains, and deserves a chance to flourish.

I hope that the story of Pagan Island is picked up by  some of the mainstream Japanese media such as NHK or Asahi Daily News.  Japanese citizens need to stay informed, and to consider the veracity and the implications of what’s being reported (rather than swallowing those reports whole. It is actually a well-known and well-reported fact that people in this country die from swallowing their food without chewing properly, namely a solidified jelly called “Konnyaku” in the summer and sticky rice cakes called “Mochi” in the winter).  It is not the reporter’s or the announcer’s job to present stories in a moral light; their job is to present the stories, period, as accurately and impartially as possible.  On the receiving end, the listener or the reader should be engaged, rather than passive, and looking for meaning in every story–including and especially the moral implications– rather than accepting what is presented at face value.  In the case of Pagan Island,  a potentially profitable plan to ease the burden in Tohoku clearly means the exploitation of a less-wealthy country and the encroachment upon a fragile ecosystem that cannot possible emerge from the project unscathed.

Not just ingesting the news critically, but considering the implications of our own actions

Socks drying outside on a cute-as-well-as-practical Japanese clothes hanger.

and choices is also part of living responsibly in a country facing a potential energy crisis. I say “potential”, because I firmly believe that if individuals and corporations make responsible and creative choices this summer, there will be no crisis at all. Some hardship, yes, but that does not equal a crisis.  As individuals, we do not need (for instance) clothes dryers.  My own has been broken for….four years now.  At first, I was desperate to either fix or replace it, but after the first year, I realized that my world had not fallen apart and that, despite holding down a full-time job and coping with weeks of rain in both early summer and fall, hanging my family’s laundry either outside or in the house was quite doable. Great energy savings, and very little hardship involved.

In the first months after the triple disaster, Japanese citizens learned to look with new eyes, realizing that glaring lights in the daytime, multiple escalators in train stations, and air conditioning set to “cool” in convenience stores did not have to be the norm. Riding the trains in both heat and darkness was both uncomfortable and creepy, but we all lived through it.  Train stations and parking lots were dark as well, and there was no rise in crime.  A little over a year has gone by, and already folks have forgotten

Drink machines–six in a row! Like only five wouldn’t be enough??

how to look at the world.  The lights are back on, the escalators are running, and we’re surrounded by drink machines. What’s that all about? As far as I’m concerned, there’s no excuse for having them at all. They guzzle electricity, and exist to cater to our laziness and desire for immediate gratification.  We trip over convenience stores on every block, and do not need to run out to the roadside to get an energy drink at eleven at night. With Jr. High students addicted to smoking and businessmen addicted to drinking, there certainly do not need to be cigarette or alcohol vending machines, either. Worse yet, my friend in Tokyo tells me that her Jr. High age daughter walks by a condom vending machine every morning on the way to school, and is “terribly curious”.  I used to look on these ubiquitous and cheery (some machines talk to you!) staples of modern Japanese culture with amusement, but no longer.  I look at them and see waste. Want to know some vending machine statistics?  Check out this blog post.  And Pachinko parlors? Don’t get me started there!  And I feel even Grinchier about illumination at Christmas!  In short, I felt good about simplifying my life and being less reliant on electricity last year, and it breaks my heart that life got “back to normal” so relatively soon.  The standard of “normal” itself needs to undergo a radical change if Japan is to not just weather the summer without nuclear power, but continue to re-invent itself and thrive.

Japan’s Fukushima has become a nightmare of a place, where the sea bed is being covered in concrete (to prevent further leakage of radioactive materials which have sunk to the bottom), the ground is a repository for bags and bags of radioactive soil and leaves, the forest is officially off-limits (contaminated with cesium), and yet those who speak out against nuclear power are considered strange or extreme. It is my hope that slowly but surely, the tables will turn, and those who were formerly considered odd birds and extremists will become Japan’s new heros. In certain circles, some already have, and perhaps their stories will be the focus of my next post. Thank you for your continued readership, and good night.

Oe Kenzaburou: undisputed literary genius, but is he also an odd bird? Hey, he’s my hero! Hang tough, Oe-san!

An Act of Murder?

Yes, this is a pretty extreme title for one of my blog entries, but I’m only quoting the words of the Mayor of  Namie Town, Fukushima.  My previous post,” The Spirit of Madei“, told the story of another Mayor , Norio Kanno of  Iitate Village, who advocated “slow life”,  controlling one’s anger, and living in harmony with man and nature. While writing that particular post, I came to feel a great respect for the thoughtfulness and restraint of Mayor Kanno. I still feel that respect.

However, I am forced to admit that following the Mayor’s philosophy of retaining one’s dignity by not making a fuss will not effect change.  Each day brings new and more outrageous news reports, and I’ve already been knocked off  my peaceful plateau by stories about what happens when citizens don’t make a fuss. Mind you, I still think that retaining one’s serenity in the face of chaos is an admirable thing, and though I feel completely comfortable marching in demos, I would not be comfortable hollering into a microphone or leading the ranks. This past month’s news, however, makes me think I may need to move outside my comfort zone. For instance…

News reports during the third week in January featured reports from a town in Fukushima called Nihonmatsu, where

Apartment complex in Nihonmatsu…looked fancy, but it hid a deadly secret. (photo by Gen Hashimoto, Asahi Shinbun)

evacuees from Namie Town had been re-located. Children living in a newly-built apartment complex had been wearing dosimeters indoors and out, and monitoring the results; when a Jr. High school student’s dosimeter showed consistently high readings (radiation levels higher inside than out, and higher on the ground floor than on the upper levels), investigations showed that the culprit was….concrete. Ironically, the stones used to make the cement for their brand-new apartment complex had come from a quarry in their former irradiated  hometown, Namie.

Neither the NHK televised report nor the reports in the daily papers used adjectives like “ironic” or  “unbelievable”–just the facts. Well, reports are one thing, but this is also a human interest story that begs to be written.  Kevin Dodd, in his “Senrinomichi” blog, uses the analogy of a ghost train to describe Fukushima. While passengers doze in their seats, unaware of exactly where they are and what is passing by, the train progresses without ever reaching its destination .  That is, unless (and this is the crucial part) passengers force themselves to stay awake and write postcards containing the stories, to be recorded in history and remembered.  Thanks, Kevin, for that analogy, and here’s my postcard.

More on the contaminated concrete: a January 15th report from Kyodo News, stated that some 5,280 tons of crushed stones were shipped to some 19 different contractors from a quarry in Namie between the day of the quake and April 22nd.  By the following week, investigations showed that at least sixty houses and condominium buildings in Fukushima Prefecture had been tainted by concrete made from Namie stones.  According to another article from Kyodo News on January 24th, the same concrete was also used to re-build the infrastructure of damaged cities. In other words, Fukushima cars travel along roads built from radioactive asphalt, and walkers may stroll along the river, following the radioactive embankments.  By January 26th, the amount of stones shipped from the quarry was listed at 5,725 tons, and more temporary housing units in Fukushima were deemed “likely” to have have been built from the radioactive concrete.

According to the head of the quarry in Namie, “I never imagined the crushed stones were radioactive when I shipped them. I feel very sorry for those who have been involved.” Fukushima Prefecture officials will help in finding new accommodations for those living on the first floor of the Nihonmatsu condominium, where radiation levels are highest. The Central Government “closely studied” the distribution routes of the Namie stones and the radiation levels of various housing units, but has declared that the annual radiation exposure in the units will not be high enough to warrant evacuation.

And that’s it: there’s been no news since then. Plenty of other head-shaking and even jaw-dropping incidents to focus on ( particularly the revelation that the central government’s   Nuclear and Industrial Safety Agency failed to keep records for 23 meetings held directly after the nuclear catastrophe. No records—nothing at all. They are now in the process of “reconstructing” the events of each meeting, for what it’s worth, ten months down the road. Although failing to keep public records is in violation of Japanese law, there is in fact no punishment involved for perpetrators, so the central government is legally off the hook, although its reputation at home and abroad is even further tarnished. Never mind tarnished, it’s shot. There’s really nothing left to uphold. )

Namie Town

Since the news has already moved on, let me go back and piece together the story of Namie Town for those of you who are not yet in the know.  As you can see from the photo, Namie  stretches from East to Northwest, and borders the ocean. The eastern area  in particular suffered heavy damage from both the quake and the tsunami.  After the explosions at the Fukushima Daiichi plant, the town was under an information blackout which would prove to bring about tragic and still-reverberating consequences. While the citizens of Namie Town (dealing with the fresh emotional horror of the quake, the aftershocks, the tsunami damage, and the ensuing fear of the uncertain situation at the Fukushima Daiichi plant) were being assured that radiation levels outside of a 10 kilometer radius were safe, the central government was reviewing data based on radiation measurements that showed a blanket of radioactive fallout stretching as far south as Tokyo.

On March 14th, the central government’s computer-produced map predicting the pattern of  the radiation fallout (the SPEEDI map, now a well-known and infamous entity) was shared with the US Military. This , oficials explained afterwards, was an effort to ensure US support, advice, and cooperation in the days to come. The US used this information in deciding on their own “safety zone” of a full 80 kilometers from the Daiichi plant.  The SPEEDI map was not shared directly with residents, or even with the local government officials in Tohoku, who desperately needed the information to make life-changing decisions on behalf of their citizens. In fact, in those first days, there were no communications at all from the central government.  Naoto Kan was busy directing an attempt to dump  water from a tiny helicopter onto the smoking inferno that was the power plant. We all watched, as time and again the wind blew the meagre amount of water off-course and another helicopter bravely hovered over exactly the right spot in a futile effort to do something–anything–to avert further disaster. And so, lacking guidance and vital information, the Mayor of Namie decided to evacuate his people North, to the area of the town that lay furthest away from the still-smoking reactors.

The people of Namie,  alerted by a community radio station broadcast, evacuated to the district of Tsushima, a mountainous region lying a full 30 kilometers Northwest of TEPCO, but still within the confines of Namie.  Approximately 10,000 residents fled to Tsushima, where they were welcomed with generosity,  receiving shelter and comfort as families, friends, and strangers set up housekeeping together in what they believed was a safe refuge. Mizue Kanno, who owns a spacious house in Tsushima, took in 25 friends and strangers on March 12th. She later told her story to Japan’s Asahi Shinbun, where it was published in serial form, under the title, “The Prometheus Trap“.

The serial story reveals that the radiation levels in Tsushima were, in fact, dangerously high on that day, but that police were forbidden to tell locals. Kanno-san and her

Kanno-san’s  house in Tsushima (photo by Jun Kaneko)

housemates learned of this from two mysterious men in white protective suits who drove to the house, stopping only long enough to warn them to evacuate immediately, then speeding off into the night.  Sounds like something out of a novel??  Well, everything was surreal at that point in time, and Kanno-san and her new friends decided to trust the warning.  Leaving in staggered groups, they all fled the Tsushima district; “Prometheus Trap” follows up, giving details on how they fared and where they eventually landed.  Many others who had not been warned and chose to stay on in the district were exposed to varying levels of radiation.  Although I share in the widespread dismay over the lack of detailed media coverage on many aspects of the 3-11 triple disaster, I give credit to Asahi for publishing the story, eight installments in all, in both its English and Japanese editions.

Let me continue the story where Prometheus Trap leaves off.

Take a leap of the imagina, and put yourself in the shoes of Namie mayor, Tamotsu Baba. He had successfully taken the initiative and evacuated citizens from the eastern part of the town when the western half of Namie (the Tsushima district) was then declared to be dangerous, and designated as part of a new, expanded evacuation zone. Those who had taken refuge in Tsushima from the eastern Namie were forced to move again, this time scattering far and wide. The Mayor himself  became homeless, and felt the heavy burden of having chosen the wrong refuge for the citizens who had depended on him.

Some of the Namie citizens who fled the Tsushima district in March  found shelter in the northerly village of Iitate, whose Mayor Norio Kanno welcomed them to his “slow life” community.  Happy ending at last?  No, not yet.  Those of you who read my previous post know what happened in Iitate:  an unexpected northwesterly wind had blown a blanket of radioactive snow straight across the village, effectively causing radiation levels matching–and in some places exceeding–levels within the evacuation zone. This was discovered some weeks after the fact, and Iitate was also evacuated, marking the third move for a number of Namie families.

Niihonmatsu in relation to the evacuation zone

Other Namie citizens fled from Tsushima to Nihonmatsu, a city lying well to the west of the evacuation zone…. and now it has been discovered that evacuee housing in Nihonmatsu has been built with radioactive cement from the Namie rock quarry, which continued to function after the majority of its citizens had evacuated. When I saw the article in the Japan Times, my heart sank.  It seems that families from Namie have been betrayed many times over.

The radioactive cement incident is terribly disturbing, and the Ministry of Trade and Industry can certainly be blamed for establishing no radiation restrictions on crushed stones (if other products within radioactive zones have restrictions, why would stones not?) , and for allowing shipments to continue to leave the quarry well after residents, fearing for their health, had deserted the area. The head of the quarry’s protest (“I never imagined the stones might be radioactive!”) also rings hollow, and the central government’s easy dismissal of the incident is troubling as well.  I remembered that the Mayor of Iitate  had also fought to ensure that industries in his village could continue to function after the evacuation orders were in place, and wondered if  similar damage was unknowingly done as a result of his desire to preserve his beloved Iitate’s economy. Complicated, isn’t it?  I don’t pretend to have an answer, but I certainly recognize and feel the injustice suffered by the residents of both Iitate Village and Namie Town.

Now, fast-forward to January 2012, ten months after the quake.  Namie Town’s Mayor Baba has learned that vital information that could have changed the fate of thousands of his town residents (the data contained in the SPEEDI map) had been purposely witheld. Apologizing for the “delay”,  Reconstruction Minister Goshi Hosono explains that the central government had  “feared it might trigger panic. ”  Ummmm…maybe a bit of panic had actually been in order, and certainly a measure of haste would have limited residents’ exposure to the high radiation levels in Namie following the quake and nuclear explosions.  Certainly, if the mayors of both Iitate and Namie had realized the scope of the radioactive fallout, they would have acted differently, evacuating residents to areas well beyond the danger zone and preventing later multiple moves.

Mayor Baba of Namie recently spoke out in an Australian news broadcast, regretting that, “Because we had no information we were unwittingly evacuating to an area where the radiation level was high, so I’m very worried about the people’s health. I feel pain in my heart but also rage over the poor actions of the government.”  Yes, his word choice was “rage”.  And it’s understandable rage at that. One never hears such extreme  language in Japan (at least I personally do not), and his concluding statement is even more startling from the Japanese point of view.  The Mayor himself realizes he’s breaking a social taboo by beginning it with an apology: “It’s not nice language, but I still think it was an act of murder. What were they thinking when it came to the people’s dignity and lives?”  The answer is, tragically, that the central government was not thinking at all about either dignity or life, and Fukushima residents have every right to feel betrayed.

In fact, so do residents of Tokyo, and my own Kanagawa Prefecture. While we assumed ourselves well out of harm’s way, data generated by the government that we never saw clearly showed otherwise. Specifically, it showed that radiation levels on March 15th were alarmingly high, not just in Tohoku, but in Tokyo and Kanagawa as well.  Hiroaki

Thank you, Prof. Koide!

Koide, from the Research Reactor Institute of Kyoto University ( a position he was relegated to as a form of “purgatory” according to some, because of his unguarded criticism of Japan’s nuclear industry)  knew of the extent of this radioactive fallout, but was pressured to withhold the data from publication. Koide-san got his revenge by testifying in front of Japan’s Upper House Government Oversight Committee on May 23rd, and has since become somewhat of a national hero. His speech exposing the government’s dirty tricks and the reality of the threat of radioactivity to Japan’s children was viewed on live stream by thousands at home and abroad, while the you tube video has been widely viewed, shared, and translated into English.   At every demo and rally I have attended, I’ve seen at least one, “Thank you, Koide-Senseii!” sign or banner.

And so, in the end, the full extent of the damage caused by the withholding of vital information by the Japanese government has yet to be evaluated. While Itaru Watanabe, representing the National Science Ministry, now admits that, “….maybe that same data [the SPEEDI map] should have been shared with the public, too. We didn’t think of that. We acknowledge that now,” residents of both Iitate Village and Namie Town continue to suffer from the aftermath of their respective evacuations and re-evacuations.  Google Iitate Village, for instance, and you will find some disturbing statistics gathered from a recent survey of residents who evacuated.  One third of all families, if the Wikipedia article is accurate, are now living apart from their children, which cannot be a good thing. The authors of the fine bi-lingual blog “SeeTell” take a strong stand on the SPEEDI incident, concluding that, “In the end, no-one will be held accountable for this act which was either a calculated and deliberate cover-up to protect the interests of the politicians, bureaucrats, nuclear industry, the US, and whoever else holds influence over this corrupt government or…well…there is no other explanation.”

As for me, I’ll do my best to speak up and speak out, in defense of those who were betrayed.  Calling the government’s witholding of the SPEEDI map an “act of murder” is an extreme statement, but if there are a rash of deaths in years to come from the effects of internal radiation exposure, the Mayor’s words will have been prophetic. In the meanwhile, thousands of people must live with uncertainty and fear, for themselves and their children. That alone is reason for anger and for action. Thank you again for reading.

Cicadas, Anxiety, and Getting the Truth Out

Japanese cicadas come in many sizes and colors, each with its own distinctive “nakigoe” or cry. They are loved, not shunned, in this country, and children spend afternoons stalking, capturing, and observing these bug-eyed alien creatures. My particular favorite

Min-Min Zemi: up close and personal.

is called “Min-Min Zemi” because of his shrill nasal cry: “Miiiiin-min-min-min!”  The Min-Min never lets up during the month of August, and folks find the continual barrage of noise either annoying or reassuring (Semi are supposed to rule the streets in the month of August, and their absence would leave an uneasy silence, atypical of the season).  When I left Japan on vacation in early August, the Min-Min had not yet made their appearance and the weather was unseasonably rainy. Somehow, this made me anxious.  I returned from my trip to New England yesterday, and was relieved to hear the Min-Min out in full force in my neighborhood. It’s early evening now, and they’ve been at it since the morning, in desperate competition with birds and early autumn insects. The weather is still unseasonably rainy, with two typhoons headed this way, but at least the cicadas are doing what they should, when they should, and that keeps me grounded. My daughter agrees.

On the surface, Japan seems “back to normal” since March 11th, especially in Kanagawa Prefecture, which sustained very little damage at all from the quake and tsunami. Stores and restaurants are still dimly lit and uncomfortably warm (that’s the continuing energy conservation efforts), but folks are used to that by now, and almost able to disconnect from the disaster which necessitated the efforts in the first place. Little luxuries are creeping back into our lives, and we no longer feel so guilty about spending money on pleasure. But look a bit closer, and there’s an underlying level of anxiety that’s directly in proportion to one’s distance in kilometers from Fukushima. Let me give you a brief summary of some of the anxiety-inducing events of July and August, beginning with a video of a meeting that took place in Fukushima City on July 19th.

The meeting was arranged to give Fukushima citizens a chance to voice their concerns and communicate with representatives of the Central Government in Tokyo. What was conceived as a sensible idea went terribly wrong, as the representatives were unable to answer even the most basic questions, resorting to repetition of a prepared statement. Their emotionless demeanor and continual refusal to even consider the residents’ demands (immediate support for evacuation and testing of their children’s urine) provoked the residents to consternation, then anger, as they openly mocked the Tokyo beaurocrats. Take a look for yourself, and see what you think.

I find this video uncomfortably addicting, and I confess to having watched it several times. The incredulity of the residents as the officials fail to acknowledge their questions, the public humiliation of the officials as they flee the meeting in shame , and the desperation of the ordinary guy who follows them all the way to the elevator, pleading with them to accept the children’s urine samples are moving and disturbing scenes; it’s no wonder this video has been viewed and re-posted on blogs and websites all over the country. And for anyone who suspects that the Japanese government may be censoring unfavorable news or unflattering videos?  Well, if that’s the case, this should’ve been one of the first to go.

Professor Toshihiko Kodama

Shortly after the brief and futile meeting in Fukushima, another video appeared on you tube, almost immediately going viral with over 200,000 hits in just a few days. The video was of a speech made by Professor Tatsuhiko Kodama to the lower house Committee of Health, Labor, and Welfare on July 27th.  Kodama, the Director of Tokyo University’s Radioisotope Center, gave an impassioned speech, backed by facts and complete with scientific explanations.  His unguarded emotion and use of expression and gesture were unusual in Japanese public forum, but his words were what made him an overnight sensation. According to Kodama, the total amount of radiation released since the beginning of the Fukushima disaster is far greater than that released by  the atomic bomb at Hiroshima, and he is furious with the government for downplaying the danger faced by those close to the Daiichi Nuclear Plant, with babies and small children meriting the most concern. Describing himself as “shaking with anger”, he called on the central government to begin decontamination of the stricken area immediately. “It has been 160 days!” he states with disbelief.  I will post a brief clip of Kodama’s speech near the end of this post, so you can see for yourself both the passion and the thoroughness of his presentation. As a postscript, today’s paper reported that the amount of radioactive cesium 137 released by the Fukushima disaster is 168.5 times greater than that of the Hiroshima A-bomb ( Nuclear  and Industrial Safety Agency estimate).

The urgency of Kodama’s speech produced results–but not in the central government. While Prime Minister Kan’s cabinet continued doing business as usual, individuals were frantically buying up geiger counters, doing their own assessments of the level of radioactivity around their homes, and attempting to decontaminate their own yards. The ever-helpful, ever-positive national TV network NHK produced a “Do-It-Yourself Home Decontamination” program; I watched it myself, shortly before my trip to the states. In an hour-long program, the hosts demonstrated how to wash one’s entire house (top to bottom,  beginning with the roof) with a power hose, and then dig up any water-absorbing plant life (especially moss) , since most radiation is concentrated in rainwater. The top level of plants and grass are to be bagged and measured with a geiger counter, and then buried (in the deepest hole possible) in one’s own backyard, with the most-radioactive bags thrown in first, and the least- radioactive forming the top layer. Of course, the hosts explained, the backyard burial is only temporary, until the government decides exactly what to do with the steadily-increasing bags of radioactive waste products.

Hmmm. One week later, the Asahi Shinbun reported “Secret Dumping” of truckloads of radioactive soil and sludge in Fukushima. Citizens were eager to clean up their own neighborhoods, but not keen on using their yards as temporary landfill. The city had apparently dug an enormous trench in a remote area and was stealthily hauling truckloads of bags to a secret burial site. Not a pretty thing to contemplate, but since the central government has come up with no master plan, or even basic blueprint, to deal with the decontamination issue, local officials and individuals are no longer willing to sit back and wait. There’s a new sense of urgency, and motivation to act.

This was the state of affairs in Fukushima in late July. Residents within a 20 kilometer radius of the Daiichi plant were still unable to return home and living in shelters, nearby prefectures with relatives, or in hotels or Japanese-style inns. Those just outside that radius were frantically measuring their level of radiation and decontaminating the best the knew how (Professor Kodama was making weekend visits to Fukushima to assist them), and those in the outer regions of the prefecture continued to suffer from economic depression. Few visitors venture to the inns and attractions in Fukushima these days, and rice, vegetables, and beef still go unsold. Many women living in Fukushima have decided not to have children, and the workers at the Daiichi plant are already resigned to staying single the rest of their lives. See the movie “Black Rain”  if you’ve never done so ( Shohei Imamura, 1989),  and you’ll understand the stigma of living with (or being perceived as having) radiation sickness. Outside of Fukushima Prefecture, food products continued to test positive for high levels of radiation, and even green tea leaves in my own Kanagawa Prefecture were found to contain cesium. Doctors in Chiba Prefecture ( a full 200 kilometers from Fukushima Daiichi) were reporting increased nosebleeds, diarrhoea, and flu-like symptoms in children…..symptoms of radiation poisoning?  Maybe yes, maybe no, but the possibility was there. As Dr. Yuko Yanagisawa from the Funabashi Futawa Hospital in Chiba stated, “We are encountering new situations we cannot explain with the body of knowledge we have relied upon up until now.”

In my two week visit to New England, I encountered kind and concerned people who understood immediately the fear and anxiety engendered by nuclear disaster. I also encountered people  eager to lecture me on the safety of nuclear power, and how the danger was exaggerated. “What happened in Fukushima was really no big deal,” said one man. “The media just blew it all out of proportion.” Knowing what I knew (there was no way he’d ever convince ME of that statement) and seeing the stubborn set to his jaw, I decided to nod coolly and let sleeping dogs lie. In retrospect, it is true that the media gave dramatic and extensive coverage of the quake/tsunami/nuclear disaster during the first two weeks, yet there has been little follow-up on the aftermath: the death of cattle within the evacuation zone, the suicide of farmers, the break-up up families and communities, the emptying-out of schools, the  build-up of toxic waste, and the desperate pleas for information and support of those who have chosen to stay or are unable to evacuate. Not to mention the race-against-time to bring the reactors to a cold shutdown. And not to mention the fact that my cell phone still shows daily aftershocks in Fukushima–not a day goes by without at least one. And not to mention the percentage of Fukushima residents still struggling to deal with the death of family and friends as well as recurring nightmares left over from the quake and tsunami. What a pity that the media deserted Japan, and what a tragedy that a certain percentage of the population will go on believing that what happened was “no big deal”.

But maybe there are readers who are not yet convinced.  I have written of the anxiety of Fukushima residents and the hardships they’ve endured as a result of forced evacuations and lack of government support. But just how serious is the threat of radiation poisoning, and exactly how dangerous is the current situation at the crippled Daiichi power plant? It is difficult to get a perspective, as there is simply very little news coverage at all. Data is recorded and published, but the statistics often mean nothing to the average Japanese citizen. Experts rarely appear on NHK television to analyze and educate.  Many Japanese and foreigners in the know are turning to blogs and you tube videos to get information. Naturally, the language barrier is a source of frustration and confusion, since foreigners are unable to read the tweets and blogs of Japanese living and working in Fukushima, and Japanese are unable to comprehend the comments of physicists and nuclear experts speaking from abroad in English. There are a few razor-sharp bilingual minds working to translate you tube videos and speeches as they are made public, but far too few in my opinion. What’s happened and is happening in Fukushima is “senmon-teki no hanashi” (specialists’ language), and not easily translated in a way that’s both accurate and understandable. One blogger who’s been doing a fine job is known as EX-SKF; his blog (EX-SKF.blogspot.com) sports a flashy photo of Ultra Man soaring through the sky, and his translation work (he did the English for Professor Kodama’s speech) is out of this world. Unfortunately, many of the most interesting videos are from news programs in the US or the UK; there are often no Japanese subtitles for most of them, and most folks here don’t know of their existence, or wouldn’t be able to make sense of the technical English. Experts who have worked within the nuclear power industry (Arne Gunderson of Fairewinds, in Vermont ) or who have been active for decades in  bringing nuclear power plant safety issues to light (Paul Gunter of Beyond Nuclear) are following the Fukushima developments from abroad, analyzing the data as it’s released, and coming to some grim and startling conclusions. Their assessments differ dramatically from what the Japanese public is being told  via government updates, yet are not in conflict with the bits and snippets that are revealed in private Japanese blogs, such as those of workers at the Fukushima plant.

I’d like to share with you just one of these videos, featuring a short clip of Professor Kodama, along with an interview with Paul Gunter, co- founder of the Clamshell Alliance anti-nuclear group; now working as a nuclear reactor specialist with Beyond Nuclear, he has been a critic of nuclear power for thirty-plus years. Gunter believes that accurate information about the Fukushima Daiichi is being deliberately withheld by the nuclear industry, and speculates about the current situation based on reports from the inside. Here’ s the video.

So…..that’s the situation as Paul sees it. Most Japanese have not seen this video and are not aware of its existence, though the Japanese blogger whose words influenced Gunter’s analysis was posting about it today on his site.  Prime Minister Kan’s resignation will be official tomorrow, and candidates for his position are already jostling for air space. Japanese citizens do not go to the polls to vote directly, so there’s no sense of excitement; it’s a passive rather than active event and folks feel resigned, rather than hopeful. Perhaps the new guy will be a true leader and visionary, but more likely not. In any event, many Japanese are attempting to search out information on their own, take action, and control their own fate. Without accurate information, they cannot hope to implement change. Good for the Fukushima citizens of the first video, refusing to sit back and accept their fate.  Please pass on their story to those who underestimate the seriousness of the Fukushima Daiichi disaster, to those who (not hearing news to the contrary) might imagine that things are alright again over here, and of course to those who have ears to hear. For the sake of the Fukushima mothers whose children are already testing positive for cesium in their urine samples, please do keep the information and stories circulating. Thank you so very much. The cicadas salute you, and so do I!

A Tale of Two Farmers

This post is about farmers, and especially for farmers, whether in Japan or abroad. The story starts with my daughter’s eighteenth

"Is this straw safe?" (photo by Hiroshi Kawaii)

birthday party last Saturday, which was intended to be a beef barbeque, Japanese-style, on a big teppan grill. My daughter is actually not crazy about meat, but the men in the family are, and since they’re the grillers we can’t deny them their beef. I had plenty of fresh vegetables prepared for the ladies (I’m not crazy about beef either), and Yaki-Soba ready to serve at the end. Problem was……irradiated beef has been floating about various regions of Japan, and folks feel more than a bit anxious about buying any meat at all. This month, high levels of radioactive cesium were detected in beef originating from cattle in Fukushima Prefecture….cattle from farms outside of the evacuation zone, who had unfortunately been eating rice straw which had been contaminated by radioactive rainwater. The cattle had been slaughtered, the meat shipped out to various prefectures across Japan, bought by consumers, and presumably already savored in summer barbeques such as the one we were planning. The central government has been racing to locate unsold meat and has promised to buy back whatever they find and take responsibility for disposing of it, but people across the country are still in an uproar about lax testing standards (the cows were tested for radiation levels only on the surface of their hides, which gave no indication that they bore internal radiation poisoning), and no-one has an appetite for meat.

Except my son. When I declared we would have a meat-less birthday celebration for his sister this year, he flounced, pouted, and proclaimed himself ready and willing to risk radiation poisoning for the sake of his meat (red meat is not, after all, an everyday thing in Japan, and my son looks forward to these indulgences). In the end, we compromised and bought a small amount of Australian beef, paying a ridiculous price for it; this made my son inordinately happy, though the birthday girl couldn’t have cared less.

From the consumers (my son’s) point of view, the irradiated beef scandal is a pain in the neck. From the Fukushima farmers’ point of view, of course, it’s another chapter in the continuing saga of their fight for survival. Some farmers are organizing, finding support, and attempting to make a go of it. Others have given up. And at least one has taken his own life, in a grim story devoid of light but full of lessons. Let me begin with the story of that farmer.

"Do not be defeated by the nuclear accident. Do your best." (photo by Jun Kaneko)

On July 2nd, the Asahi Shinbun reported a 54 year old farmer from the village of Soma (Fukushima Prefecture) was found dead in his shed, having left a suicide note scrawled on the shed wall in white chalk. “Remaining dairy farmers: Don’t be defeated by the nuclear accident. Do your best.” Before the quake, the farmer had lived on the farm with his Filipino wife and two sons, caring for his 40 head of cattle and selling compost as well. He was looking forward to expanding his farm, buying new equipment, and attending his oldest son’s entrance ceremony for elementary school. After March 11, everything changed. Soma village is 50 kilos from the Daiichi Power Plant; it is technically outside of the heavily contaminated evacuation zone, but not far enough away to absolutely guarantee the safety of livestock and food products. The farmer was forced by the government to halt shipments of milk, and began the heartbreaking routine of feeding and milking his cows, then pouring the milk into the ground. He continued for a month, feeding and caring for his herd without a source of income.

In the meantime, his wife returned to the Philippines, taking the two children with her. She was responding to pressure from her own government to evacuate the prefecture, as did many foreigners in the months of March and April. This may be difficult to fathom, but many other international families made the same choice. Also, the March 11th quake hit the village of Soma hard. The aftershocks, which were frightening enough in the Tokyo area, must have continued to terrify the farmer and his family, as well as the explosions and unstable condition of the Fukushima Daiichi plant. Rumors of radiation poisoning were running rampant, and noone knew what was actually happening. His wife had to choose between a safe haven for her children and staying to support her husband–either choice would’ve been difficult and painful. She chose the former, and from that point on the farmer’s life must have lost any remaining sense of purpose. Just two weeks later he fled the country himself, taking refuge with his wife’s family in the Philippines. Neighboring friends and family picked up the pieces he had left behind, dividing up his cows and taking over their care and feeding.

I wish that the story could’ve ended at that point, with the farmer finding a new life and identity in his wife’s country. Instead, he was back in Soma in early May; he returned alone, to an empty farmhouse and barn. Apologizing to the friends who had taken care of his cows, he explained that he had wanted to stay with his wife abroad, but had been unable to speak the language. I imagine a shy man, jobless and tongue-tied, at the mercy of his mother-in-law and extended family, and can empathize to some extent. Being illiterate in any society is a challenge, and the emotional strain of being unable to express oneself or-conversely-to be understood is one that those who have never travelled or lived abroad will never know. It can make you crazy.

The story ends soon after the farmer’s return to Soma. An agricultural co-op worker visited his farm to deliver a magazine, and found him dead in his own shed. An accompanying letter read, “To my wife and children, I am sorry. I was a father who could do nothing. ” Two hundred local farmers, friends, and family attended the funeral, as well as his wife and children.

This story was particularly disturbing to me; the farmer (whose name was not released to the press) was unable to help himself, desperately lonely, financially pressed, and facing an unknown future. In Japan, suicide is a way of saving face, restoring one’s pride, and making reparations. With no support system in place for farmers after the quake, suicide must have seemed to be his best option. After the quake, farmers in the Fukushima area were in limbo, with no income, no guidelines, no reliable source of information, and no organized support, either practical or emotional. The farmer who took his life faced this situation alone after his wife left, and the burden was simply too heavy. Unable to re-invent himself, yet unable to return to the life he knew, he chose an early exit, apologizing for his own failure to change events that were beyond his control.

Now let’s do a three-point-turn: back up and listen to another farmer’s story, with quite a different twist. This farmer, Yoshizawa-san, is from Namie Village, which lies inside the evacuation zone. Namie is now a ghost town; residents are scattered through different towns and prefectures, some returning periodically (in organized excursions) to check on their houses and grounds. Yoshizawa-san supports a herd of 300 cows within the evacuation zone, and carries a special permit enabling him to return to his farm once

Villages like Namie have become ghost towns.

a week to feed and care for his herd. The cows, by the way, have been condemned to slaughter for some time now. They have been drinking radioactive water, eating radioactive hay, and breathing radioactive air. Though they have no external symptoms, they are marked by internal radiation poisoning, and their milk is worthless on the market-likewise, their meat. Yoshizawa knows this–it is irrefutable. Yet he is waging a determined campaign to save them, and has even collected more strays to add to his herd in the process. He has painted, “Save them or die trying!” on his barn’s roof and on signs along the road to his farm, and has allowed independent film makers access to his property (sneaking them in under a plastic tarp on his truck, as they did not have the required entry passes) to take photos and interview him. His cows (and his neighbors’ abandoned cows, who have voluntarily joined his herd) are roaming free on his property, subsisting mostly on grass and the hay that he delivers weekly. They still come to greet him when he arrives, he says, and he has no intention of deserting them. Yet he realizes that within six months, there will be no grass left on his property for grazing, and he fears slow but inevitable starvation. Yoshizawa-san vows to keep his cows alive out of respect for the animals, and also as a protest against both the government and TEPCO, who created his situation by promoting nuclear power. Watch the video, and you can’t help but admire the man: he is well-spoken, passionate, organized, committed, and has a natural
magnetism that will aid him in his cause. He already has the film-makers on his side. Here is a man who intends to control his own fate at whatever cost. Enough said! Here’s the video of Yoshizawa, explaining just why the government should allow him to save his cows.

Smart man, eh? And brave as well. Where central and local governments have been unable to bring order from chaos, individual leaders have been springing up, giving hope and purpose to those around them who’ve been unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Truth is, Yoshizawa-san can’t see the light either, but he’s willing to live with that uncertainty. I will follow his story if possible, though news from the true inside is harder and harder to come by these days.

Lastly, I want to return to the story of the two film-makers (remember? Yoshizawa-san snuck them into his farm under a tarp). They’re an international couple: Junko Kajino and Ed M. Koziarski. Their goal is to produce a film documenting the efforts of organic farmers in Tohoku in the post-quake months (years? I’m not sure). They intend to follow the lives of local farmers from planting to harvest, to see how they adapt to the changed conditions of the air, water, and soil in Fukushima since the nuclear disaster. They believe in sustainable agriculture and energy, and hope to produce a documentary for international broadcast and distribution. They are staying at the “Colors of the Seasons Farm”, 45 miles from the Daiichi plant, and just twenty miles outside of the evacuation zone. Their host family, the Yoshidas, are an extended family (even the grandma puts in a day’s work) whose specialty is “firefly rice”, so named because after the family stopped using pesticides and began farming organically, fireflies returned to their neighborhood. The father of the Yoshida family says of their proximity to the Fukushima Daiichi plant, “We don’t know if our crops will be safe. We can’t ignore this issue. But we won’t stop cultivating our land. We need farmers to nurture the environment, nature and culture, and pass them on to the next generation. ” They realize that they their produce may not be salable, but at least they will be self-sufficient.

The film-makers, Junko and Ed (I hope I am not being too familiar) have a web site called “Uncanny Terrain”. It’s chock-full of interviews, photos, and thoughts from people living on the inside of the evacuation zone, and those in the grey area just outside . Here’s the link; I know you will enjoy it, and learn something as well. http://uncannyterrain.com/blog/ In closing, I’d like to quote from the Uncanny Terrain blog. The two film-makers ask a crucial question that the country as a whole, and all countries with functioning nuclear reactors, need to consider. Here’s what they have to say: “After suffering the world’s only nuclear attacks in World War II, Japan emerged from poverty and devastation and entered into a period of unprecedented technological innovation and economic growth. Can today’s Japanese respond to this catastrophe with new forms of innovation that will allow this nuclear-dependent society to continue providing healthy food to its people, and live in better harmony with the natural world?” Let us hope they can. Let us support those farmers who have not yet given up the battle, and say a prayer for those who did not make it. The animals, too. Thank you again for reading, and take care in the summer heat.

Tanabata, Temper Tantrums, and the Prime Minister ‘s Woes

The Colonel is ready for Tanabata...

Colonel Sanders is decked out in different seasonal costumes several times a year here in Hadano City, and this past week he’s been celebrating the Star Festival, or “Tanabata”.  The Tanabata Festival comes from China, and is a more romantic version of Groundhog’s Day. Two lovers in the sky (the constellations Vega and Altair, or  Orihime and Hikoboshi in Japanese) are separated by the milky way, and are only allowed to see each other once a year: on the seventh day of the seventh month. If July 7th is rainy or cloudy, it is said that the lovers cannot meet. Whatever the weather, children across the country sing a special song in their Nursery Schools (I think my kids still remember it), and write their heart’s wish on a “fuda”, or vertical strip of paper. Their parents make a small tree of bamboo branches, and children tie their wish onto a branch, along with paper chains, origami ornaments, and anything shiny and festive. These Tanabata trees are seen about town as well, and towns that host yearly festivals with fireworks go all out with more large-scale and elaborate decorations that attract tourists from far and wide.

I love peeking at the childrens’ wishes (this is allowed) whenever I pass a Tanabata display; many are like short letters to Santa, but some are also quite touching. Children pray for the health of their pets, for good grades at school, and this year, for the recovery of the disaster victims of the Tohoku region in Northern Japan. Meanwhile, in Tohoku….NHK News reported that parents at Ishinomaki Elementary School (which lost 68 students, and count 6 still missing) held a Tanabata gathering to pray for the safe return of the missing children.  In Fukushima Prefecture, children made decorations together, many writing on their ofuda that they wished “to play outside again”. Who can blame them? Across the nation, children, their teachers, and their parents, wrote encouraging messages to the people of Tohoku for Tanabata, urging them to “Ganbaru!” (Do your very best) in the face of hardship. This is a good thing, right?

Steve Yamaguchi hard at work (photo by Masaru Komiyaji)

Well, it depends on who you ask.  Steve Yamaguchi, a naturalized Japanese citizen living in Yamagata Prefecture (just North of the worst-hit areas in Tohoku), claims to hate the phrase “Ganbaru” , because of what it implies.  In a recent interview with Mamiko Takahashi of the Asahi Shinbun, Yamaguchi (who arranges tours of the disaster areas for volunteer workers), speaks his mind. “The word oozes with a sense of despair because it implies bearing with an issue that has been forced upon oneself……everyone thinks,’there is nothing I can do, and since I cannot change it, all I can do is do my best.` That also leads to resigning oneself to not always achieving the desired results. ”  Yamaguchi also expressed his frustration with what he sees as “passivity” in the people of Tohoku. “I think everyone should be much more angry at politicians and local government officials….As someone from the Tohoku region, what I am concerned about is the feeling that people are becoming passive and holding the feeling that `someone else will do it for me.`…..A strong leader will not be born unless there are strong followers.”

Yamaguchi’s thoughts echo those of the blogger from Chiba Prefecture who I wrote about in my last post; the guy known as “Our Man in Abiko”.  Our Man was concerned at the number of people still in shelters, speculating that their “patience” was really closer to passivity and lack of courage. My own thought on the matter is that it takes a foreigner living in Japan ( Yamaguchi is a Japanese citizen, but raised and schooled in California) to say what needs to be said, and to do so respectfully as well.  Protests are happening, and people are raising their voices and organizing themselves, but hardly in proportion to the extent of the suffering and indignity that disaster victims are continuing to experience.  Too many people seem to be too quiet, having resigned themselves to waiting rather than taking action. And, as both the blogger from Chiba and Steve Yamaguchi point out, waiting in itself cannot effect change or serve a positive  purpose.

Having said that, let me now introduce a cautionary tale. Saying what you think will never be effective if you do not mind your

Ryu Matsumoto. "Don't blame me, I'm Type B !"

manners. And a big part of manners is simply having empathy: the ability to imagine the feelings and reactions of another. The biggest and most surprising news of the week was the three-day career of the newly-elected Minister of Reconstruction, Ryu Matsumoto. Matsumoto had something to say about passivity as well, but said it badly…. want to hear what happened?  Okay, sit tight. Immediately after his appointment, Matsumoto travelled to Tohoku to meet with local government officials for the first time. In Miyagi Prefecture, he was kept waiting in a reception room, which so offended his pride that he refused to even shake hands with the Miyagi governor when he arrived. “When a guest comes, you have to be present. I will shake your hand after the meeting.” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation.  He then continued on to Iwate Prefecture, where he professed his ignorance of the geography of Northern Japan ( this met with understandable dismay ), and stated, “We (the central government) will help those places that come up with ideas to help themselves, but not those who don’t.”  Finally, Matsumoto, sensing that he might have been out of line, ordered reporters present not to publish those remarks. Well, of course they not only published them, but promptly put a video of the interview up on you tube for all to see.

I happened to be listening to the news as the video clip was aired on NHK, and was aghast. I sometimes have trouble with technical terminology in Japanese, but Matsumoto’s rough language and lack of “keigo” (polite terminology) were perfectly understandable to me. My face burned for the governor of Miyagi as he was left  with his outstretched hand untaken, and my jaw dropped when I heard Matsumoto confess his ignorance of Tohoku geography (“because I’m from Kyushuu”, he explained). The only thing I could not understand was how on earth this man had been chosen for such a crucial appointment, requiring delicacy and diplomatic skill as well as brain power and energy.  Surely the first words from his mouth should have been, “I am so sorry for your loss.”  And as for the issue of passivity, or dependance on central government, surely an encouraging, rather than bullying, approach was in order. And finally….the icing on the cake…..Matsumoto attempted to excuse his behavior. Howso?  By blaming it on his blood type.  “I’m  a Type B .” he explained, noting the Japanese belief that B types can be irritable and quick-tempered.  That finished off any last remnants of sympathy I might have felt for the now-former Reconstruction Minister, who resigned two days later. Whew. Maybe its no wonder that folks in Tohoku have given up hope if that’s the best the central government has to offer.

So the central government is a mess, with the Prime Minister determined to have his way despite the protests of the opposition party and lack of support within his own party as well.  He still promises to step down (“in the future”), but not until three important bills have been passed. The third of these bills, a measure to promote renewable energy sources, is the one that could change Japan for the better. It’s what could shape a new future for the country and turn a disaster into a positive prototype for other nations. I am absolutely in favor of the bill, as are other outspoken anti-nuclear people in the news. Unfortunately, Prime Minister Kan seems to be angering everyone and achieving nothing in his determination to rein in the nuclear power companies. This is not entirely his own fault, but he ultimately absorbs the blame.

For instance (this is a long story, with twists and turns, but it ends up back with the Prime Minister looking bad, I promise), late last week, Kan announced that local officials would be responsible for deciding whether or not off-line reactors would be re-started after their scheduled safety checks (35 of Japan’s 54 reactors are currently closed). The governor of Saga Prefecture in the southern island of Kyuushuu was the first to be requested to decide. Suddenly, a previously unknown political figure from a little-known southern prefecture was big news. Knowing that his decision was a bellwether, as other governors in other Prefectures would be influenced by his decision, Governor Yasushi Furukawa took his responsibility seriously, appearing on TV several times and weighing the pros and cons carefully. “It is easy,” he stated, “to see the business groups who favor restarting the reactors, but the public unease that opposes it is shapeless.” In order to give voice to the “shapeless public unease”, a public hearing,  broadcast on live television, was held. During the meeting, e-mails and faxes from viewers were read on the air; four of the letters read were in favor of re-starting the plant, and Governor Furukawa subsequently decided to do so. I heard the news, was disappointed, and went off to work….only to wake up the next day to a totally different situation.

It seems that many of the e-mails that were sent in to the public hearing were actually faked–written by employees of a subsidiary of Kyushuu Electric Company (these big companies let the little ones do their dirty work) in order to prejudice TV listeners and the Governor of Saga in favor of re-starting. Well!!  Of all the dirty tricks!!  The Governor of Saga was furious, and the Mayor of Genkai (the town in which the plant in question is located) withdrew his support immediately. Still open-mouthed from the Matsumoto scandal, people across the country were yet again disgusted (though there is hardly even an  element of surprise by now. One almost expects the bizarre these days). Plans to re-start the Genkai plant were on hold again, and things were back to where they started, until……the next chapter began.

On Wednesday, July 6th, Prime Minister Kan announced that all off-line reactors would be

Prime Minister Kan is a lonely guy (photo by Kim Kyung-Hoon, Reuters)

subject to “stress tests” before being allowed to re-start, thus negating his previous edict that local officials would be allowed to decide whether to re-start or remain off-line.  The stress tests would take time, and would keep the reactors off-line until sometime in 2012. Well!  The timing was certainly unfortunate. Kan, who had also shouldered the blame for the disastrous appointment of Matsumoto as Reconstruction Minister, was now reviled for backtracking and causing confusion.  Friday’s Asahi Shinbun reported, “Prime Minister Kan’s recent decision to conduct stress tests at all nuclear power plants stunned not only industry ministry officials but also the Nuclear and Industrial Safety Agency”.  The Governor of Saga and Mayor of Genkai were yet again indignant (all that soul-searching, and going on-line again would not now be possible until 2012 after all!), and Kan’s already tarnished image became blacker still.

Well, thank goodness my husband is an International Political Economist, and news addict. He’s a Professor at the University of Tokyo (I rarely mention this fact, as most Japanese then immediately forget that I exist at all, and wonder if he has a blog or is available for public speaking.  Hopefully you will not leave this blog immediately and try to Google him, but in case you are tempted to try, I refuse to provide his first name ) , and of course, stays on top of what’s happening in the world.  Anyway, he’s the one who informed me, while industriously ironing his own white shirts (so I may use my time to write this entry) that the decision to impose stress tests was not Kan’s decision at all, but an edict from the International Atomic Energy Agency.  “Oh, really?” I thought, and went back through the weeks’ newspaper articles to read more closely. The Asahi Shinbun clearly stated it was Kan’s decision, but the Japan Times (based on an article from Bloomberg news) claimed the order came from the European Commission. Both newspapers agreed that the stress tests would be conducted not just in Japan, but across Europe and in China as well.  So, although the country desperately wants to pin the blame on Kan, it looks like he was simply responding to the dictates of an international committee of experts. It IS a shame that Kan’s proposal for local officials to decide their own fate came before the stress test order, which effectively cancelled it out. Unfortunate timing, a big muddle, and–in the end–a Prime Minister who cannot win the love or trust of his own people. He is a science nerd, and has a vision to change the future of the country, but his own enthusiasm and nerdiness work against him. Such a shame that more people hate him now than ever.

The bottom line is that so far–and we are officially past the rainy season now and into the full heat of summer-the country is managing just fine, even with the majority of nuclear reactors closed down for inspections and upcoming stress tests. Folks across the country, still in shock from the devastation of an entire region, are stubbornly refusing to use air conditioners ( or setting the thermostat almost uncomfortably high), keeping lights dim or off, and finding clever and inventive ways to stay cool without using electricity. I write this seated by an open window to catch the breeze, cooled by a rotating fan, and wearing a plastic pack of water wrapped in a stylish handkerchief around my neck. These little neck-packs

A small-scale "green curtain"...

cost only five dollars at the local drugstore, and are wildly popular with my small students, who have them in a variety of patterns.  Cities and towns are turning off lights, shutting down drink machines, and planting “green curtains” along the sides of public buildings. These are vine-like vegetables and flowers trained to grow up along the building’s side, providing a natural shady curtain and keeping the inner rooms cooler.  Businesses and industries, of course, are a different story, and there are dire predictions for Japan’s economy with the limited supply of energy that will be available in the coming months….or years? But this is my husband’s territory, and it is too soon to say how well companies will manage with the resources available.

The stress tests are a good thing. The fates are working against Prime Minister Kan, but he is committed to reforming a corrupt and undeniably dangerous system that has already crippled a good portion of Japan’s main island, and reverberated through the rest of the country, if not the world. In closing, let me quote from another outsider with an opinion on the situation: the German sociologist Ulrich Beck, who was interviewed in Munich by reporter Hirohito Ohno. Speaking of the advanced age and vulnerability the majority of Japan’s nuclear reactors, Beck made a chilling comparison. “It’s like people are on board an airplane for which there is no landing strip, or they are actally using the brake of a bicycle in an airplane.”…..  Good heavens–let me off the plane at once.  And I will continue to hang my hopes on the Prime Minister, for lack of a more confidence-inspiring and capable leader at present. Hang in there, Kan-san….or should I say, “Ganbatte”?

Even the Clams are Stressed

All of a sudden, the heat has picked up. Neighbors meet on the street and greet each other with, “It’s HOT, isn’t it?” while dabbing at their foreheads with absorbent towel-handkerchiefs (a must for summer). There’s more to be said, but few folks have the energy to make the effort. The evening news continues to feature the nation’s “battery”: a graph showing the available amount of electricity verses the next day’s predicted demand, based on the anticipated temperature. Last week’s battery showed the nation using approximately 80% of available electricity, but this week it’s “giri-giri safe”, meaning the supply is just barely matching demand, with the nation using 91% of it’s electricity. And no-one I know is using air conditioners in their homes, except for an hour of so of respite when the kids come home from school (kids have no air conditioning at all in their classrooms, so they come home wilted, and covered with sweat), or during dinner. We feel pleased with ourselves , and justifiably so, as graphs also show a significant decrease in energy use compared to this same time last year; still, it’s hard to keep one’s spirits up. In short, folks are cranky. I am extremely cranky myself, and sleep–an even sweatier experience– brings no relief.

These Clams are Stressed ( photo provided by Kenji Okoshi)

Heat is stressful. The disaster victims are now battling torrential rains (the rainy season seems to have wimped out in the Tokyo area, but is drenching Tohoku on a daily basis) as well as heat; I can imagine the stress level of even healthy folks must be soaring right now. And speaking of stress….I came across a short but interesting article in the Asahi Shinbun, stating  that the clams off the coast of Fukushima are also stressed, as evidenced by changes in the patterns of their shells. Ninety percent of the 216 clams studied had ruts in the middle of the shells, marking the start of different colors and patterns. As evident in the photograph, the  clams above (the “normal” variety) look significantly less wild and crazy than those below (taken from Matsukawaura Bay in Fukushima), with their large white splotches.  Kenji Okoshi, a professor of environmental dynamic analysis at Toho University, believes this is a result of their sudden and violent change of habitat, as they were swept away by the tsunami and transported to new sea beds with different concentrations of salt, and an “unnatural mix of sand and mud in the seabed.” Okoshi was quick to add that the clams would still taste delicious, but that is a different matter altogether. The bottom line is, if even the humblest forms of marine life are suffering from stress, the situation in Tohoku is truly deserving of our sympathy.

Aside from the heat, another source of stress that I have not yet focused on in this blog, is personal debt. Deep personal debt, on a scale never-before-seen in modern day Japan. Yesterday’s Asahi Shinbun featured an article with the header: “Surviving the Tsunami but Drowning in Debt”.  Reporter Toyotaka Nagata described the situation as “….the worst natural disaster in the postwar era…(it) was so devastating that it took away many people’s sources of income and their homes, making it almost impossible to rebuild on their own.” The Hanshin Earthquake that rocked Kobe in 1995 was devastating to both individuals and the city itself,  yet there were no government measures taken to aid in the victims’ loan burdens. This time, however, the loan burdens are on a different scale, with victims often swamped with multiple loans for houses and boats that no longer exist….in many cases, they are able to receive some compensation in the form of disaster aid , but it is rarely enough to cover the amount owed, much less enough to make payments on a new home. Is the answer to take out yet another loan to get a new boat or home? In addition, those who co-signed on the loans of relatives who died in the tsunami or quake are now responsible for those “family” loans as well.  Is it any wonder that the suicide rate in Tohoku is climbing? Having lost families, homes, livelihoods, and often entire communities, and facing a black hole of debt (this last is a particularly shameful thing in Japanese culture), many are unable to handle the emotional stress and uncertainty of their situation. Lawyers are working round-the-clock, vounteering their time to give advice to the countless victims lined up in evacuation shelters–all seeking a way to pick up and move on without being dragged down by their losses and responsibilities.

Civic groups and lawyers across the country are calling for increased public aid and possible absolution from debt for the hardest-hit victims. Hopefully their voices will be heard amidst the noisy squabbling of politicians who still spend an inordinate amounts of time attempting to oust the current Prime Minister (unsuccessfully, since Kan has dug in his heels, and refuses to go after promising a swift retirement). It has taken the government three months to come up with a basic framework for reconstruction (compared with 40 days for similar legislation after the Hanshin Quake). The bill was passed on June 20th, and chief cabinet secretary Yukio Edano was asked why the delay.  His reply? He was quoted at a news conference saying, “It was certainly late from an objective viewpoint, but that has not caused any particular inconveniences.” No inconveniences to him, at least, but ask the mayors of the cities and towns in Fukushima prefecture how convenient the waiting has been. And how pleasant, outfitting their citizens with dosimeters, scraping the topsoil off parks and schoolgrounds, trying to find cement companies willing to accept their radioactive sewage sludge that continues to accumulate, desperate to find doctors and nurses willing to work in their prefecture (Nahara and Futaba towns in Fukushima prefecture are functioning with one nurse per 2,000 residents ), desperate to find buyers for their vegetables, and desperate to make progress in cleaning the rubble from the most radioactive areas. Among other challenges.

The challenge of shutting down the crippled power plant continues, as the deadline for cold shutdown is extended further and further into the future (the the promise is still for the “near” future).  The reactors (some topless since the hydrogen explosions) have been steadily filling with water, both from efforts to cool the system and from weeks of seasonal rain.  Naturally, the water is now highly radioactive, and cannot be easily disposed of. So far, it has been stored…in huge tanks, that are themselves becoming full. The plan was to begin “decontaminating” the water, then recycling it to continue cooling the reactors, but results have been dubious at best. The decontaminating system broke down shortly after starting up (TEPCO says the system is overwhelmed by the enormity of the task, and promises that things will be running smoothly very soon), and very little water has actually been decontaminated.  Actually, I believe the news report said, “some” water has successfully been decontaminated and recycled, which is hardly edifying or confidence-inspiring.

New reports have also been released revealing further details of the lack of disaster preparation at the plant. According to an Associated Press article, protective gear for the workers was actually located in a separate offsite crisis center five kilometers from the Number One plant. On the day of the disaster, workers were ordered to release steam (“venting”) to begin cooling the reactors, but by the time they had picked up the gear, and put on the air tanks, face masks, and coveralls ( just dressing properly took an hour, according to the article) precious time had sped by. Meanwhile, the instruction manual for the venting system was also in a separate office building rather than the control room; further time was wasted in retrieving the manual, while aftershocks continued to occur.  By this time, we now know, the fuel rods were already melting, and the efforts made would come far too late. Literally, what a nightmare, especially for the terrified workers involved. And what a contrast to another story I want to share….

I saw this story in the Japan Times shortly before my Las Vegas trip, and filed it away for future reference. Reporter Setsuko Kamiya tells of a Jr. High school in Kamaishi, Iwate Prefecture that was so well-prepared for disaster that students were able to follow their pre-ordained evacuation plan without direction from their teachers,  saving the lives of younger students as they did so. A few years ago, the city had begun a disaster prevention education program; as sixth graders, students researched local tsunami history in their social studies classes. They studied the physics of tsunamis in science class, and read about past tsunamis in language class, writing essays on the topic as well. Disaster preparation  education was mandatory at all grade levels, with students receiving training in first aid, cooking, and the workings of soup kitchens in times of disaster. They had created their own hazard map, and performed quake drills multiple times.

On the day of the quake, students had finished class, and were about to start their club activities. The quake hit,  students took cover, and even teachers dove under their desks for protection, some for the first time ever. According to the disaster manual, when the trembling subsided  students and teachers were to gather on the playground, where the teachers would then lead everyone to safe high ground. In reality, the force of the quake knocked out the school’s power instantly, and teachers were unable to use microphones to call the students together and give instructions. Students, knowing this was no ordinary quake, dashed to the school grounds on their own, and began running toward the designated

Kamaishi East Jr. High students pose for a picture in May. ( photo by Setsuko Kamiya)

evacuation center, one kilometer away. Teachers at a neighboring elementary school, seeing the Jr. High students fleeing, decided to abandon their plans to evacuate to the third floor of their school, and led their students outside, urging them to follow the older children. All the children and teachers reached the evacuation site, only to find that part of a nearby cliff had collapsed during the quake, making the ground unstable and the site vulnerable to a tsunami. Teachers urged the children to begin running to the next evacuation site; this time, the older children ran behind the younger ones, urging them on and supporting them. By the time they reached the second site, the tsunami had already struck their school, and was steadily encroaching.  They fled this site as well, and began scrambling up the mountainside, many screaming and crying, but continuing to move forward. In the end, the tsunami swept over the first evacuation site, stopped a few meters short of the second, and the students were safe. Teachers were especially proud that because of the support of the older children, the elementary schoolers all made it safely as well. According to the article, nearly 70% of those children lost their homes, and 14 lost either one or both parents. Still, they survived, and their school’s well-organized and tested program puts the ill-prepared, unimaginative, unprofessional response of the TEPCO officials to shame.

Haruki Murakami

I want to close with some thoughts from author Haruki Murakami, who recently blasted not only Japan’s nuclear power industry, but the Japanese people as well, for allowing nuclear power to both ruin the environment, and corrupt the heart of the nation. In a speech given on June 10th in Barcelona, Spain (technically, an acceptance speech for a prestigious literary prize), Murakami used the occasion as a platform to speak out against Japan’s dependance on nuclear power. “In the face of overwhelming disaster,” said Murakami, “we are all victims and assailants. We are all exposed to the threat of this–in this sense, we are all victims. We extracted the nuclear power and we also could not stop using the power–in this sense, we are all assailants…..We Japanese arranged this accident by ourselves: we made a mistake, we ruined our land, and we destroyed our lives. ” And can what has been ruined be renewed??  Murakami says yes. The reconstruction and physical renewal will be successfully carried out. “But to try to reconstruct our ruined ethics and standards, that is the work of all of us. It will be a simple, rustic, and patient work. Like a fine spring morning, when all the people from a village go to the fields, tilling the soil and seeding it, we must all join and co-operate in this work. ”

Of course, Murakami is right. And that is why we grumble and sweat, yet we stubbornly resist the urge to turn on the air conditioning. It’s why young people with no connection at all to the families in Tohoku are spending weeks at a time doing heavy labor, enduring sweltering  heat and foul odors. We all enjoyed years of bright lights, cool rooms, and power-guzzling appliances.  And it took a national disaster of epic proportions to get people into the streets protesting nuclear power and calling for adequate safety standards. As Murakami points out, the promise engraved on the memorial for victims of the Hiroshima bombing has been broken: “Please rest in peace, since we will never repeat the mistake.” This time, the nation has been poisoned by a nuclear disaster caused by greed and easy living as well as earthquake and tsunami.  Murakami suggests developing a new energy source at the national level as a way of doing penance, and as a way of honoring “our collective responsibility to the victims who died at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.” Listening to the wranglings of opposing political parties leaves me more confused than ever; Murakami’s words speak truth to me, and the right way becomes steadily clearer. Well, done, Haruki. I pray that your voice is heard.

To the Land of Light and Back to Darkness Again

No energy crisis in Las Vegas. ( Green Valley Ranch Hotel foyer )

I’m back from three days in Las Vegas, where the lights are on twenty-four-hours a day, the air is fresh and clean, and folks seem to know very little about the situation in Japan. On my first  day there, I had commented, “It’s so bright here! Tokyo is dark these days..”  My friend’s response was, “Why?”, but it was hard to give a succinct reply.  I was in town for a wedding, and was reluctant  to spoil the mood. So instead of elaborating, I decided to drop the subject altogether and  throw myself into the wedding preparations, meeting a myriad of new people (I had flown in from Japan knowing only the bride, her sister, and her younger brother. I also came without a date, so was determined to be sociable and make friends as I went along. All this was much easier than imagined) , and celebrating whole-heartedly along with everyone else. When asked, “Where are you from?”  I’d say, “Japan.”  Only a few folks asked, “Wow….is everything okay there?”  The rest of the folks simply thanked me for coming such a long distance, and we’d move on to other topics. Weddings are no place to discuss death, destruction, debris or deep debt, and I respected that unwritten rule for the extent of my stay. Back in the hotel in the evenings, I opened up facebook rather than turning on the TV, and the only newspaper I saw was local…..the Friday headline was a story of two cops busted for using the patrol car to go sightseeing outside their district while on-duty. So thoughts of Tohoku were duly subjugated and not allowed to surface for a while as I  shopped, ate out, tried the casinos, and got manicured, pedicured, washed and styled for the wedding. For the record, it truly was the best wedding ever, and I’ve no regrets about taking a break from all those “d-words”.

The extended vacation lasted until I arrived back in Narita on Sunday. The return flight had been packed full of cheery young people–employees of a Japanese home furnishings chain store called “Nitori”….seven hundred of them had been abroad touring American style malls and super-stores (they were particularly impressed with Walmart), and were on their way back to report their “findings”. They were fairly fluent in English, had been sight-seeing and shopping as well as “working”, and were in high spirits. No glum faces or mask-wearers among them, so the festive mood continued throughout the flight. The only reminder that we were returning to the darkness and tension of Japan was the passing of a “collection bag” during the flight, for the victims of the quake and tsunami. In twenty-five years of frequent flying I’ve never been asked to donate to anything, and I dumped in a liberal amount of change, both yen and American coins.

Landing in Narita, the mood was instantly subdued…and overly warm. I won’t say “hot” YET….as I know it’ll get much worse than this. The airport is (for those of us with already dubious eyesight) uncomfortably dim, uncomfortably warm, and far too quiet and orderly. “It’s been quiet since the quake,” said the attendant who checked my baggage on the flight out. On the train ride home, I whipped out my iPhone and began catching up on the past week’s events via my favorite on-line newspapers and Twitter. No major events–not politically correct to say “earth-shaking events” here– or changes; instead, signs of progress here and there, and discussions of further obstacles to be overcome.  New findings on what actually happened at the Fukushima plant during the week of the quake continue to surface (in bits and pieces) as the situation is analyzed, critiqued, and slowly made public. The government continues to tread water rather than achieving a steady crawl stroke, and ordinary folks from Hokkaido to Kyuushuu express anger, frustration, and disgust with the status quo. I’ll try to give a brief update on some of the news highlights, whether positive, negative, or simply human interest with no judgement implied.

Nearly 90,000 Tohoku residents are still in shelters. The rainy season is in full swing, and the basements of the Fukushima reactors are still in danger of overflowing; by the end of June, all the storage areas of the nuclear plant will be completely full of radioactive water. The new plan is now to “de-contaminate” the water, and recycle it to continue cooling the reactors. Surrounding areas are still dealing with (or rather, stymied by) the issue of radioactive sludge; there are no guidelines in place to follow, so the sludge blocks continue to pile up as local officials discuss what on earth to do with the stuff. We see it on the news nightly.

We also get a new addition to the nightly news these days: a prediction of how much of the country’s available energy supply will be used the following day, based on the weather forecast. Like the iPhone battery image showing how much juice is left, we see “the country’s battery” on the TV screen.  High temperatures predicted for the following day mean very little juice left over, since air conditioning will be in used heavily in public spaces and in homes. The screen also predicts peak hours of energy use, and viewers are urged to plan their energy use accordingly. The goal is for each household to reduce energy consumption by at least 15% this summer, and to use a minimum of energy during peak hours. Businessmen are already working early-morning shifts to take advantage of the cool morning air, and some businesses will shut down entirely during the hottest weeks in August.

This week, according to NHK’s “national energy reserve battery” indicator, we’ve been using 80% of the nation’s available electricity. This is quite alarming, since the days have been cool and rainy, and no-one is yet using air conditioners in their homes. I dread the advent of July, when the daily battle will begin: to give in to the coolers, or to sweat it out. Unless we are very, very careful, it looks like we may–for the first time–have no choice. Since only 14 out of 54 of Japan’s nuclear power plants are actually functioning at this time (the remainder have either been damaged by the quake and tsunami, or are temporarily shut down for safety inspections), it does not seem possible that the nation’s energy demand will be met. More rolling blackouts seem unavoidable, even with people using resources sparingly and public spaces dark and warm.

I dread the advent of July and August, but the shut-down of most of the nation’s nuclear plants can only be seen as a good thing, and long overdue. It happened nation-wide, in a chain reaction, after Prime Minister Kan “requested” the shut-down of the Hamaoka plant, situated directly atop a dangerous fault. Suddenly, local government officials across the country decided to follow suit, shutting down their own nuclear operations until new safety standards can be agreed upon, and until the plants have passed strict inspections.  The Japanese public is okay with this. More than okay, according to TV and newspaper polls, which show steadily waning support for nuclear energy, and an increasing willingness to explore alternatives. This past Saturday, the 11th, was marked by anti-nuclear protests in 140 different sites across Japan, including a large-scale march (20,000 people) in Shinjuku. It’s all peaceful and orderly, of course, but still highly emotional . In Koriyama ( a central city in Fukushima Prefecture), 200 protesters marched, bearing signs reading, “Return our Hometowns!”. One woman’s surgical mask read, “I can hardly take a deep breath.”

Yasuteru Yamada of the "Suicide Corps" (photo by Choi Seungdo, Asahi Shinbun)

And speaking of protests and protestors….this week’s Asahi Shinbum announced that the government is seriously considering the offer of the “Suicide Corps”, a group of elderly men who have volunteered to step in and work long hours cleaning up the Fukushima reactors. Their leader,  Yasuteru Yamada, was also a leader of the 1960 student movements at Tokyo University–a former hippie/activist who now wants to save the country for future generations, rather than leaving them with a “negative legacy”.  He and his group of volunteers range in age from late 60’s to 82;  having already led long and productive lives, they are unafraid of the risks of radiation exposure, and propose to work for longer stretches of time than the younger workers currently tackling work on a rotating schedule of short shifts. The older men have a sense of mission, and have finally been acknowledged by Japan’s trade minister Banri Kaieda , who told Yamada, “We want to make preparations so that you can work on the site before your enthusiasm burns out.” Yamada and his group have not yet set foot inside the Fukushima plant, but they’re already on the fast track toward becoming big-time heros.

The Prime Minister, however, can’t seem to make anyone happy. Surviving a no-confidence vote last week, he then used to occasion to announce his intention to resign…..sometime. Sometime? Yes, that’s right. The opposition party is furious, and want him out immediately. His own party is befuddled, not knowing how to respond when asked exactly when “sometime” might be (he has revealed nothing, even to his own party), and shelter victims in Tohoku are, according to NHK polls, upset and “disgusted” with the situation. Personally, I was ready to wash my hands of him for good and start praying for a miracle (there are no other popular or capable candidates), when tonight’s news set me wondering.  “The Prime Minister is full of energy and spirit!” announced the NHK translator, “..and shows no signs of stepping down soon.” A grinning (literally, grinning) Kan was seen laughing into the camera, proclaiming, “You must be tired of seeing my face! Really! Are you really? Do you hate seeing my face?”  The reporter went on to say that Kan is now in league with the billionaire Korean owner of Softbank, Masayoshi Son, and the two have great plans for a natural energy bill. According to tonight’s report (the reports change on a daily basis), Kan has no intention of leaving office until his dream bill is successfully passed, and the future of natural energy in Japan is secured. He is literally laughing in the face of opposition (either that, or he’s lost his sanity completely. I must say, he looked almost unhinged as he cackled into the microphone). WELL. This is a new development, and I can’t write the Prime Minister off just yet. Anything could happen from here on in, and I want a front row seat. There’s more to tell, but I need my beauty sleep. More to come next week, and thank you again for reading.

Foul Odors, Rising Water, and a Lethal Mega-Float

The Problem of Kesennuma (photo by Yoshinori Mizuno, Asahi Shinbun)

The rainy season has begun in Japan, with a vengeance. Kicked off by a typhoon from the Philippines that was downgraded to a nasty rainstorm, the temperature has plummeted, the skies have darkened, and Tohoku is a soggy mess of dead fish,  flooded roads, clogged drainpipes, and potential landslides.

Let’s start with the dead fish, which really have nothing to do with the rainy season, but just add to the misery of the situation. Yesterday’s Asahi Shinbun featured the coastal city of Kesennuma  (Miyagi prefecture, just above Fukushima) , where 20,000 tons of fish and fish by-products have been liberated from processing plants by the tsunami, and are now rotting in heaps about the city. According to the Asahi article, farmers can only work in their rice fields for thirty minute stretches due to the “unbearable stench”, and the “official in charge of dealing with foul odors” has his hands full.  You want that job?  How do you feel about maggots and flies? Are you prepared to investigate the refrigerators and freezers that lie about (in the most unexpected places) and remove what’s inside?  There were ninety fish processing facilities in the city; the factories were devastated, and their contents now lie scattered about an area so wide that removal and processing still continue after two full months. The fish, once collected, are piled up along the piers, loaded onto boats, and tossed back into the sea from whence they came. At least in Kesennuma.

Moving father south to Ishinomaki, rotting garbage of all varieties is causing headaches, sore throats, and burning eyes, according to local surveys. Workers in Ishinomaki, whose shores sunk significantly as a result of the tsunami,  are dependent on the tides. Many roads (including roads that children take on their daily school commute) are now flooded during high tide, and garbage collection can only be done when streets are accessible. Though workers are sloshing about doing their best, they have not been able to keep ahead of the piles of garbage accumulating daily as the clean-up of the city progresses. In addition to this, since the rain began three days ago, volunteers and Self Defense Forces have been frantically building temporary levees with sandbags, hoping to contain even more flooding; they have been only been partially successful. Ishinomaki seems to be in a particularly desperate situation, despite the constant stream of volunteers from across the nation who take a week or so (some have stayed since the onset ) to shovel through mud, pry apart broken buildings, prop up fallen grave markers, and assist private home-owners in repair and clean-up work. Basically, there is not enough space: no space to house volunteers; no space to dump garbage; no dry, safe, flat space to begin constructing pre-fab houses; no space to house those who have been left homeless. In short, the landscape has been effectively gobbled up by seawater and rubble.

Moving a bit farther south to the city of Sendai,  it’s raining there too– in record amounts. Last night’s NHK news showed workers wading through the streets, and attempting to unclog drainage ditches choked with debris (my notes say “disgusting glop”, but I cannot remember if that was the direct translation, or my own paraphrase. Either way, that’s what it looked like).  Evacuation advisories are being issued in vulnerable areas, and what looked (on the news) like netting and tarp was being thrown over hillsides to ensure against landslides.  My friend Sumiko, whose husband was in Sendai this week reporting on the clean-up progress for Newsweek Japan, says that the Self Defense Forces in the city are exhausted. The first death from overwork was reported last week, and none of the men have been home with their families since the disaster.

Farther south, we come to Fukushima, where it’s raining as well….right into nuclear reactors 1, 3, and 4, whose roofs were blown off by hydrogen explosions.  TEPCO reported a “dramatic increase” in the water level of the No. 1 reactor over the weekend.  Well, since

Reactor No. 1...Topless! (image released by TEPCO)

workers have been assiduously pumping water into the reactors for two months now in a frantic attempt to cool them down, one might think that the rainwater would speed things along, right?  Perhaps this may be so, but the issue of potential (fairly certain) leaks is what has folks worried. When the contaminated water in the basement of the reactors is lower than ground level, a one-way leak from ground water into the tanks may occur; what is more worrisome is if the level of the contaminated water rises above the level of ground water, leaking out into the surrounding soil and flowing into the ocean.  Many experts are certain that this is already happening. In any case, as Asahi Shinbun reporter Sugimoto Takashi writes, “TEPCO has not yet decided how to deal with the issue. However, it has secured hoses to transfer contaminated water from the basements of the No. 2 and No. 3 turbine buildings. A large, floating container, dubbed a ‘mega-float’, is in place offshore to hold the contaminated water.”  So now there are ‘mega-blocks’ of radioactive slag (read “poop”),  ‘mega-boxes’ of radioactive playground sand, and a ‘mega-float’ to hold radioactive water…..and a growing “dead zone” outside the plant’s perimeter that is spreading fast. That brings us to the people who once lived in that zone, and what the outlook for their future might be.

For the present, they are scattered far and wide across Japan. I recently learned that there are a number of Fukushima families living in my own city of Hadano. Though it boasts a huge population, Hadano is officially considered “the country”, and is known for its pure mountain water and popular hiking courses.  A new camping facility has just been finished several years ago, complete with lovely cabins furnished with spacious kitchens and tatami sleeping rooms. Really, I hardly consider that camping at all, but since the cabins are on a mountain in the woods, that fits the Japanese definition, I guess. Anyway, the cabins are now home to the Fukushima families, free of charge, for a short-term stay (hopefully until July, so children can finish up their first semester of school ).  There are Fukushima children in every grade in Hadano, from elementary through Jr. High, and I hear that they’re fitting in just fine.

To my surprise, today’s Asahi Shinbun says there are also Fukushima families in the heart of Tokyo, staying en masse at the Grand Prince Hotel in Akasaka! “Luxury Hotel Home to Refugees” read the headline, with a photo of a charming toddler seated near the window overlooking the Tokyo skyline, surrounded by bags and bags of belongings. Eight hundred refugees from the towns of Iwaki, Minami-Soma, and Futaba are now living in the hotel, which was scheduled to close at the end of March, but decided to remain open with the aid of the Tokyo metropolitan government as a refuge for evacuees. The government is currently paying for meals and utilities, and keeping the hotel open until the end of June.  Although children won’t be able to finish up the school semester (summer vacation begins in mid-July), the hotel stay provides a safe haven and a chance for parents to catch their breath before considering their next move. Most evacuees have mixed feelings about being country families in the heart of fashionable Tokyo; I understand this completely, always fretting that I don’t have the right clothes to wear on the rare occasions when I take the train into the city. Older evacuees feel the irony and frustration of the situation. Hideo Kurosawa, a sixty-eight year old town official from Tomioka, looks out at the lights of Tokyo each night, knowing that, “The neon lights of the metropolis were made possible by the electricity from the nuclear plant.”

The families in Hadano and Akasaka are the lucky ones, at least as far as creature comforts. But they are living a long distance from their former communities, and far from friends and family. Those who remained closer to home face harsher living conditions, but at least retain the comfort of community ties. Though life in a school gymnasium for weeks on end  requires stamina and patience, old folks in particular find reassurance in being able to visit with neighbors, exchange news, and have company at mealtimes.  All of the evacuees–whether far or near–are living with uncertainty, and weighing their options.  As yet, those options are unclear, as the jury is still out on whether they will in fact be able to return home, and if so, how soon that might be.  Bloomberg News reported today that specialists are estimating that restoration of the contaminated land to “livability” could be achieved within three years, but that the government must move fast to begin the process if it hopes to be successful. This involves “cleaning” the soil, or even replacing it. And of course, everything depends on the successful control and shut-down of the power plant itself, which is the more immediate crisis.

Meanwhile, tsunami debris is on its way to Hawaii. US researchers predict some bizarre pieces of Japan will wash ashore on the North American west coast within three years, hitting Hawaii twice.  The International Pacific Research Center of the University of Hawaii at Manoa reports that a  “..massive and concentrated arrival of debris,” including bits of buildings, cars, ships, and other tsunami trash will wreck havoc with the environment and harm the wildlife.  There could be potential lawsuits, even, that Japan should prepare for!

Meanwhile, the Prime Minister faces a vote of no-confidence on Thursday. Some say he’ll be ousted, and some say he’ll weather the crisis. Still others (my husband included) say his facial color is terrible, and he must be suffering from extremely poor health. Personally, I don’t think any Japanese politicians look either healthy or pleasing to the eye, but that’s another story. I do hope we do not change Prime Ministers in mid-stream, and I do hope that Kan does not have a bleeding ulcer, though it would not be surprising.

That’s the news for this week; I wish it were not quite so dark, but perhaps it’s the rainy season that’s coloring my perspective as well. There have been positive developments and bright patches, so I will attempt to focus on the good as well as the bad in my next post. I am off to Las Vegas next week for a wedding, so it may be some time before I get back on track….but I’ll be back for sure, as long as the story continues to unfold. Good night.

“Will You Raise Your Voice?”

“Please protect us!”  (photo by Tsuno Yoshikazu, Agence France-presse-Getty Images)

“This is not like Libya, government forces will not shoot you down with guns. You will also not become a missing person, taken away somewhere never to return, like in North Korea. Will you raise your voice? Or will you just cry yourself to sleep? ”  ….This is a translation of the blog of Kouno Taro, a member of the government opposition party, published in this week’s popular TIME OUT TOKYO magazine. The accompanying article berates the Japanese people for accepting fuzzy explanations, compromises, and downright untruths from the government whose plans, Kouno says, are “…bound by the aims of protecting the organization of TEPCO, the shareholders, the banks who financed the company and those holding bonds, rather than the public.”  These are strong words, and there is truth to his claim, which was also backed up by a visitor from America. The visitor, a scholar fluent in Japanese, had come to visit evacuation centers in Fukushima. He looked around at the old folks sitting calmly in their impeccably neat sleeping spaces, shook hands and bowed with those who lined up to greet him, and declared to television cameras later, “Nihonjin was shikkari shisugite iru. ”  ( loosely translated, “The Japanese people are too self-reliant.” )  “Shikkari shite iru” is one of those hard-to-translate phrases, which can mean “firm, tight, reliable” or  “a person of good, stable character”.   The American scholar went on to lament that Japanese are so used to being self-reliant and enduring without complaint that they are easily taken advantage of by both the government and TEPCO.

Well, this week has been marked by many interesting stories.  Some stories are in line with the “shikkari shisugite iru” idea: examples of individuals or groups moving to protect themselves and carry on in the absence of  guidance from or action by government officials. Yet other stories hint that ordinary Japanese are too tired, too mentally and emotionally exhausted, unwilling and (in some cases) unable to “carry on” taking care of themselves. These folks are still a minority, but their voices are beginning to be heard on NHK broadcasts, and their faces seen in the Asahi Shinbun.

First, let’s look at this week’s inspiring stories, beginning with  GEEZERS HOPE TO SAVE THE DAY!!!  ( The actual headline was, “A Nuclear Offer from the Aged”, which was much less low key ) , Nakai Daisuke’s article from the Asahi Shinbun, reprinted in the International Herald Tribune.  A close reading of the article brought a stab of surprise and pain: over one hundred and sixty men over the age of sixty have volunteered to step in and assist in the clean-up and shut-down process at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant. The number of  young people willing to take on the job has been steadily decreasing, and current workers can only work for short periods of time because of the risk of over-exposure to radiation. “We’re the perfect solution!” say the group of geezers, whom one politician has dubbed “The Suicide Squad” ( The group members refer to themselves as “The Skilled Veterans Corps”) . The Skilled Veterans  point out that they are near-death anyway, so can work for extended periods of time and get the job done in a more consistent fashion.  Their leader, Yamada Yasuteru, is seventy-two- a cancer survivor who describes himself as healthy and ready to work. “I want to do my part so that a negative legacy will not be left for future generations,” he states.  I love that man. Despite their gung-ho attitude, and years of experience working  in a variety of technical jobs (Yamada-san’s background includes both waste disposal and plant construction), both the government and top TEPCO officials have stated that they do not plan on using the Skilled Veterans Corps, since ,”…there is no immediate need” for such a suicide corps. How the shut-down and clean-up will be accomplished within eight months (the target time frame, which has already been revised and extended once) without a steady stream of willing workers is still up in the air.

Here’s another brief mentions of folks “taking care of themselves” where the government has been unwilling or unable to step in: families in Fukushima Prefecture whose towns lie outside the evacuation zone but are still plagued by  high radiation levels, have repeatedly asked government officials for advice. Getting very little of that, they are taking matters into their own hands, shovelling away layers of topsoil from their children’s school playgrounds (teachers and parents working together), and declaring the grounds “unsafe”.  Children continue to stay inside at recess, windows are closed (no problem now, but just WAIT till the heat really sets in.  Public schools in Japan are not air conditioned, and summer vacation does not start until mid-July!) , and deciding for themselves to err on the safe side….and who can blame them?

In the Kanagawa and Tokyo areas, folks are continuing to be “shikkari” about saving energy. While the government and TEPCO battle to finance the Fukushima plant shut-down , pay compensation to the victims, and prepare for a swelteringly hot summer with only limited power, individuals are carrying on calmly and positively. Dark public spaces have become the new normal (stiflingly hot trains are still difficult to adjust to), and my friends say cheerfully, “Well, this station was really too bright before, wasn’t it?”  In  a recent NHK on-the-street interview , a reporter was encouraged to find many people willing to speak out on National TV (this is a country where people are not comfortable behind a mike, and run from, rather than welcome their chance for ten minutes of fame), especially about the energy crisis. Young people declared their consciousness raised, and vowed not to take a lifestyle of plenty for granted.  Although many dreaded the advent of the summer heat, they vowed to refrain from using air conditioners, and spoke of the conservation effort (“setsu-den”) as a way of reaffirming their existence as members of the post-quake society.  I think of it that way myself , yet wonder how vigilant I’ll be able to be when the temperature begins to soar in June and July…

Lastly, let’s switch from the topic of self-reliance to that of protest and the exposure of dirty deeds.  Caught up in a tangle of frightening and confusing circumstances, ordinary citizens in Tohoku–particularly Fukushima Prefecture-are often unsure of who to lash out at, and how to make their voices heard. Though Japan in technically a democracy, it is rare for individuals to be able to make their voices heard above the noisy din of bureaucratic debates and squabbles. Lately, families in Fukushima City ( a huge area to the north of the prefecture which is technically outside of the evacuation zone, but marked by “hot spots” of alarmingly high radiation levels) have been outraged by a  government declaration of “safe radiation doses” for children. The limit set is shockingly high, and “…equal to the international standard for adult nuclear power plant workers,” according to Tabuchi Hiroko’s article in today’s International Herald Tribune.

In April, an advisor to Prime Minister Kan issued his prompt resignation after the standard was announced, simply stating that he would not allow his own children to be exposed to those levels.  And Fukushima parents agree: they are not just uneasy, but confused and angry. Unable to get consistent information on radiation levels on a daily basis, they have no information at all on the long-term effects of  the “safe dose” of radiation they are receiving; in addition, they feel torn between wanting to believe local businessmen (who urge them to continue buying Fukushima products to save the economy), and their own instincts (which urge them, naturally, to be over-cautious).  Since there is only a limited understanding even among scholars of the affects of low doses of radiation over an extended period of time, there are no set guidelines to rely on other than the government’s declaration.

Many families in Fukushima City have already fled voluntarily, and those who remain (it is a huge city, and would be extremely difficult to evacuate) have been protesting the government’s radiation standard for children vigorously. On Monday, parents from  Fukushima travelled to Tokyo to protest outside the Japanese Education Ministry. The building itself is no beauty, but it’s in a very nice, very posh part of the city, close to the American Embassy. It must have been quite a sight, since reporter Tabuchi described the scene as “rowdy”, which is not usual at all. Unsurprisingly, they were rebuffed, but at least they made the papers and the nightly news.  On Wednesday, more parents took their complaints to the local school board, dispensing with civilities and shouting their questions and accusations angrily, asking if entire school buildings should not be decontaminated from top to bottom, and demanding immediate attention and action for the sake of their children. Local officials, caught between a rock and a hard place, pleaded for understanding and promised to do all they could.

Meanwhile, new exposures of dirty deeds at TEPCO continue to make the evening news. Recently,  more young workers involved with the clean-up at the plant have spoken out publicly about lax safety measures and other worrying situations. Many claim to have been “tricked” into working at the plant in the first place, being told at job placement agencies that they would be doing “construction work”, or other such vague descriptions. Those who stayed on to work at the plant despite the initial shock report being treated as “disposable items” by a company more concerned with the plant than with the safety of the men working to prevent further wide-spread contamination and  destruction. Working without dosimeters, ill-fitting masks whose filters slip off when bumped (!) ,warped doors which do not close properly to seal contaminated areas, and only a fifth of the workers receiving internal radiation checks….these are a few of the fears they voiced, and their fears were heard nation-wide. It is already old news now that the situation at Fukushima is far more serious that was first intimated  (it WAS a meltdown after all), and that TEPCOs defense of  “an unimaginable natural disaster” ( they blamed the unforseen height of the tsunami wave) does not hold. New evidence shows that the worst damage was done by the quake itself rather than the tsunami, and was therefore within the realm of imagination. Design flaws within the plant itself have been revealed, and an initial delay in making crucial decisions shortly after the quake caused the situation to escalate.  The situation in Fukushima has been far from “transparent”, and plant workers have every right to fear for their futures, and to publicly doubt whether they should trust their employers.

I’d like to close with the words of Yabuki Shin, who wrote in a recent issue of TOKYO TIME OUT,  “In the wake of the great earthquake, the Japanese people’s spirit of helping others, and the evacuees who lined up in such an orderly manner to receive supplies, were praised worldwide. But if we remain silent about the present situation….we’re likely to become an international laughing stock, known only as the docile Japanese. People of Japan, it’s time to take a stand.”  Enough said, and very well said.  We’ll see what new developments the next week brings.