At the time of the disaster, I was in my second year of living in Japan and working as an Assistant Language Teacher on the JET programme at the time of the disaster. Being in Tottori, [on the Sea of Japan coast, some 800km southwest of Tokyo], I didn’t feel its direct impact. Nevertheless, I sensed that the events of March 11th, 2011 marked the nation’s collective consciousness, and I too felt a bond with the country that had become home. As a newcomer, I’d experienced the kindness and generosity of Japanese people on more occasions than I can recall. I wanted to lend a hand in the affected areas; do some small bit to contribute. I was able to find time after completing my teaching contract, as part of a return trip to Asia this winter, and joined the 49th dispatch from March 10th to 17th, 2012.
To my untrained and bleary eyes, things looked normal at first in Ishinomaki when the night bus from Tokyo pulled in to Kasuka [formerly a textiles factory and Peace Boat’s headquarters in Ishinomaki] at 5am on a drizzly Saturday morning.
It wasn’t until en route to our first work assignment that I was really able to get an idea of the devastation, almost exactly a year later. Our bus took us past massive mountains of debris – eerily orderly-looking from a distance, up close revealed to be piles of mangled metal, wrecked cars, and so on – an amount roughly equivalent to 27 years of landfill. We saw many houses with their first stories blown out. There weren’t any boats belly-up in the middle of the road, rather, a definite sense of empty space. A one-legged statue-of-liberty-lookalike presiding over the waterfront confirmed this impression.
Our first job was to clean up after a one-year anniversary memorial held the evening before. A flower design had been laid out by the waterfront, and lit with candles. It was viewed from the higher ground where the fortunate had manage to seek refuge when the big waves arrived. Feeling the symbolism behind the thousands of candles and admiring the pretty, quintessentially Japanese design, we sought to disassemble it with care.
We spent 3 of the next 4 days landscaping a park in the space dividing one of the city’s busy thoroughfares. This 1km-long section of the boulevard ran through Sakanamachi, literally ‘Fish Town,’ a name that took on a new meaning when the tsunami dumped the contents of nearby seafood warehousing facilities throughout the area. Urban beautification was a motivator for making this park. Efforts were being made to restore an area where cherry blossom trees once stood. The idea was to have some flowers blooming in that same space by summer, so local people could go for walks there. In preparation for the planting of seeds, scheduled for the following week, Peace Boat crews levelled the ground (removing remaining pieces of debris), spread fertilizer, turned over the soil, and created a rocky-gravel footpath that winded through the area. To do this we used wheelbarrows (or ‘neko’), shovels, rakes, and our hands.
We also traveled one day to the fishing hamlet of Samenoura, about 45 minutes away by bus. It was apparent that these outlying coastal parts were further behind in the recovery progress. At the time of our visit, the issue of whether to rebuild in low-lying areas was unresolved.
We spent the day collecting oyster shells that will be used in the harvesting of a delicacy and local specialty hoya, ‘sea pineapple.’ It will take a few years to regenerate the area’s main industry, we were told. There was cause for joy on the day we visited. Local fishermen had received a new boat (a gift from another part of Japan) and would be able to return to the water! Joined by their wives, they blessed the occasion with a traditional ceremony and invited us to momentarily put down our claw-like implements, (which, along with thick rubber gloves, were the tools of safe and speedy sifting) and catch some proffered mochi. Their smiles that day spoke a thousand words.
Although my interaction with the people of Ishinomaki was limited, I felt that they appreciate the presence of volunteers, even though the focus has shifted from recovery to reconstruction. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to fully comprehend the act of moving forward in the face of such loss and devastation. I hope that the continued presence of volunteers acts as a positive motivation for residents to complete this seemingly herculean task.
Going there put things in perspective. I had lived close to the sea in Japan so it wasn’t a huge leap to imagine this kind of calamity striking my town. It’s tough to reconcile a random event that caused such tragedy and complex consequences. Although volunteering in these circumstances was a physically and mentally intense experience, I found myself in autopilot mode. Knowing (or imagining) the hardships endured by affected people made things like bathing (which consisted of two sento visits that week), hot evening meals, and a roof over our heads seem like a lot. Doubtless, many volunteers return home with renewed appreciation for what they take for granted in daily life.
Going forward, I would like to encourage foreigners living in or travelling to Japan to volunteer if they have the time and disposition to do so. However, I recognize that this kind of participation may not be for everyone, so I also hope tourism to Japan and the Tohoku region is promoted. I want to dispel the myth that it’s not safe to visit a place like Ishinomaki.
It really took going there to gain an idea of the scope of this disaster. One example was seeing the ecological problems caused by seawater entering the rice paddies and vegetable fields, rendering them unusable for years.
I learned that in the days and weeks following the earthquake and tsunami, affected people sometimes said things like “We can’t accept help because there must be others worse off than us.” I suppose that says volumes about the Japanese character (and people of Tohoku are often said to be especially traditional in this sense). Still, I could see how this might surprise people from the West who are more individualistically-minded.
I was impressed by the number of long-term volunteers. Young people – if not in age, then certainly at heart – who were mostly Japanese, had spent weeks and months helping out. Their dedication was, and remains, inspiring.
Whenever a disaster happens I want to help the victims and affected communities as much as I can, but often it is not easy to be physically involved in recovery and rebuilding efforts. Living in Japan made it easier for me to get to Ishinomaki and volunteer.
I also wanted to help because although I live in Japan, Ehime is so far away from the affected area that sometimes it seems like a different country. I wanted to understand for myself how bad the scale of the disaster was.
I am glad I was able to help after the first anniversary of the disaster because now, as people in other countries begin to forget about the disaster, I can use my experience to educate them about the situation and hopefully generate continued support for the Tohoku region and communities in Ishinomaki. I have had the opportunity to talk with many of my junior and senior high school students in Ehime about the disaster.
I was surprised by the fact that some parts of Ishinomaki city were undamaged, while in other places there was literally nothing left. I felt shocked over the scale of the destruction to the buildings that are awaiting demolition. Sometimes I was amazed at how much has already been cleaned up. At other times I was struck by buildings that remain virtually untouched after a year, such as an apartment building near where we worked in Samenoura.
In many apartments in this building, things remained destroyed as they were on March 11. Tatami had been forced back and dragged forward by the power of the tsunami, while cell phone chargers, heaters and tv satellite dishes remained dangling off balconies. As a teacher, I was shocked, and saddened by the state of the schools. There was one junior high in particular that we drove past that had been badly damaged, but students continued to practice baseball outside. I thought Ishinomaki was beautiful. I think this is one of the most beautiful places I have been to in Japan.
I spent three days in Samenoura – about a one hour drive from Ishinomaki city – helping
collect and string together oyster shells. We helped local fishermen who will put the shell strings into the ocean to harvest hoya. It will take another 4 years for the hoya to grow large enough to be harvested.
I spent one day in Ogatsu-cho helping to move stone into the town hall and cleaning up some of the fire station sheds. Ogatsu cho is famous for its hard slate which is used to make calligraphy inkwells and roof tiles. I think working there had a big impact on me because on our first night in Ishinomaki we were shown a DVD recording of the tsunami hitting the town. The film had been recorded from the roof of the town office, which we worked in. I think this place impacted me also because of all the debris that was still there. In the fire station sheds there was still mud and some water, as well as objects like tires and PET bottles stuck to the ceiling. And behind the sheds we found a car that had been washed there.
I helped make fields for 3 days in the Kitakami area, and the Mizuhama area which are rural communities in the outlying parts of the greater Ishinomaki area. These were the days when we had the most interaction with the locals. The farmers told us their stories of the disaster and we were welcomed into their temporary housing. One couple, the Sato’s, ate with us in the community rooms of their housing area. Mrs. Sato prepared some delicious wakame dishes and a coconut pudding.
I hope it has helped to restore the spirits of the local people a little and I hope they don’t feel like people are forgetting about them now that it has been over one year since the disaster. One day, we were told that some of the fishermen we worked with ate lunch with the volunteers for the first time that day. Before they would eat separately because they found it hard to accept help to do a job they had done all their lives. I hope that they do not feel bad about accepting the help and they can form strong relationships with volunteers.
I think some of the people we worked with wanted to tell us about their experiences so they had someone to talk to about it. I think it was an opportunity for them to be able to do this, and for us volunteers, to be able to hear first-hand accounts of the way the disaster affected the people of Ishinomaki.
For myself, I think the work has given me a greater appreciation for my friends, family and the fact that I have a home and a job. It has given me experiences that I can talk about with other people, to help generate continued support for the region.
After our work in Samenoura, we were invited to visit again four years from now, when the first season of the new hoya will be harvested. Although the work we did there was only minimal given the scale of rebuilding the fishermens’ business, it gave me a sense of accomplishment to know that we had helped them on their road to recovery. I would like to revisit here in four years.
We also experienced a magnitude five earthquake that went on for about 20 to 30 seconds, causing everyone to head for the door. As someone who has grown up in New Zealand, which is constantly at risk of various natural disasters, I was constantly told to ‘be prepared.’ But when disasters don’t affect us for a long time, it is easy to be lulled into a false sense of safety. I think this experience taught me how important it is to always be prepared.
I was surprised that we spent a lot of time interacting one on one with people. I had thought we would work with bigger community groups. Another interesting aspect was that the people were so willing to invite us into their temporary housing. People were very generous even though they had lost everything. Japanese people are very generous so this isn’t surprising, so much as it is humbling. I think the range of emotions I felt during my time there surprised me. There were many happy times, and I made some amazing friends with other volunteers. But there were also times when I had to stop myself from breaking down, particularly at times when we had to work in sites that were people’s homes. This made the disaster so much more personal to me, but I knew I had to keep going for the people of Ishinomaki, as they are the ones who have suffered, not me as a volunteer.
I think the stories that the survivors told us will have a lasting impression on me. On our last day volunteering we were helping to make a field in Aikawa close to a ruined elementary school. The farmer we worked with told us that he wants to rebuild his house higher up on a hill so he can see the water and will know if another tsunami comes. In New Zealand sea views are a prized real estate feature, but his reason for wanting a sea view was very different to any I had heard before. This was one of many times in Ishinomaki when I realized what is really important in life – friends, family and community. The people of Ishinomaki we worked with were fishermen and farmers. They lived their lives simply, growing their own food and working as part of a community. I think I have learned a lot through their determination and the way they approach the mammoth task of rebuilding their lives.
I’m a staff member working at the Peace Boat office. I went to Ishinomaki on 29-30 August, taking a day off, to do volunteer work as a member of the 40th short volunteer group of Peace Boat.
For two days, our job was to clean around the graves in the SAIKOJI temple located at a distance 500 meters from the sea. They said these graves were under a lot of cars and collapsed houses and carried away by tsunami, just after 3.11. After removing them, they needed cleaning, by 9.23, the equinoctial week.
At first, we started to remove the debris covered with graves. Halfway, I found some things people always use everyday, for example, bags, shoes, photos, toys… I felt like crying. I realized the debris was never “debris”. A grave needed 5~6 members to clean, so we concentrated our job.
On the next day, when we arrived at the place where we worked, I saw an old man stand in front of the gravestone we cleaned yesterday. There were a few flowers before the grave. He closed his eyes tightly, joining his hands together before his heart. When I saw this situation, I realized some important things of our activity.
After work, we had a meeting to share our own impression, review, and feelings. In this time, we knew the volunteer’s thoughts, for example, why they wanted to come to Ishinomaki, how they felt through 3.11, what to do after this… I was so interested to listen to them, especially, some young Korean students who were living in Japan. Their words made a deep impression on me. They said “We are always helping each other, so now, when Japan is in a trouble, it’s time to act for Japan. There are some problems between Japan and Korea, but we wanted to be a bridge between the two countries”. Their words shocked me. This disaster happened in Japan, but its influence was never only on Japanese. This opportunity is be able to make good international relations. So, I think that we, especially Japanese, need to broaden our horizons, look to all over the world.
Jessica Korteman spent over a week in Ishinomaki as a volunteer, working on clean-up and recovery efforts including assisting the revival of the oyster cultivation industry, the Kawabiraki summer festival, debris removal and more. She has posted accounts of her efforts in nine parts on her blog here: Through my Eyes.
An extract of the first entry is reposted below – please visit her blog for full reports.
Mountains of memories. Walking the road ahead, a glance to the side: a silent monument, a ship. A laughing child. Monks chanting. A hill-top view of a town that once was. A town that will be again, only never the same. A flash of color streams across the night sky. A glittering waterfall lights up the eyes of onlookers. Determined voices call out a message of emerging recovery in the afternoon sun. Bright yukata in the shadows of a barely-standing building’s silhouette. Disbelief. Acceptance. Pain. Hope. Ishinomaki.
7/29 – An overnight bus departs from inner-city Tokyo full of energy and expectation. Familiar faces bring warmth despite the already balmy Summer evening.
7/30 – We put on our blue bibs for the first time, a public statement of our purpose. An hour bus ride brings us to Kobuchi-hama. Each corner around the winding bends brought us preliminary glimpses of events unimaginable. A car submerged in a river. A roof resting on the grass. Or often the hardest scene: simply nothing.
We arrived to a damaged but still-standing open shed filled with baskets of oysters. The tsunami ripped away many things including the livelihood of local fisherman whose strings of oysters had hung silently in the bay waiting for maturity. Two years is the timeline until they become of restaurant desire. The countdown can’t wait.
Restarting oyster cultivation was our priority. Working side-by-side, we and local fisherman worked to put shells dotted with small larvae of hope in between two intertwined ropes. Their good spirits made the work enjoyable and the time pass quickly. The tide started creeping up to the edge of our working area. How far does the tide come up? A finger pointed off into the distance.
Georgina Salazar spent a week volunteering in Ishinomaki from August 6-12. View her photo album online with many pictures, video and explanations of the work during the week here.
Our group of volunteers met at Shinjuku Central Park on the night of Friday, August 5, 2011, to ride overnight to Peace Boat’s camp Ishinomaki Senshu University. Shortly after arrival, we have this meeting to explain what will happen the first day.
View the rest of the series here.
By Khaliunaa, volunteer from Mongolia
Even one simple person can make a difference, no matter how big or small as long as we have a common goal in mind. I strongly believe that together we can make the difference we all want to see.
Hi everyone. I am a graduate student majoring in International Peace and Study Program and working at Peace Boat office as summer intern. I had the opportunity to volunteer in Ishinomaki city as a Peace Boat intern.
My experience in Ishinomaki is unforgettable and one that will always stay present in my heart. If I could describe my experience in Ishinomaki in two ways it would be life-giving, and heart breaking. When I first arrived in Ishinomaki I was shocked and heart broken to see the devastation of the earthquake and tsunami, and stacks of hundreds of crumpled cars and miles of rubble that used to be people’s homes.
This was originally posted on Alicia Sheridan Kidd’s blog here: Bite Cream and Bandages
I arrived in Japan three months after the tsunami, and knowing that Peace Boat was still sending volunteers to help in Ishinomaki, I signed up hoping that I could be of some use for a week. Having spent some time searching for information on the current situation in the north and finding nothing in the international press, I developed the naive notion that there was little left for the volunteers to do in this city which was one of the worst affected by the disaster. To say I was shocked when I arrived in Ishinomaki would be an understatement. Our bus drove past boats in the middle of roads, stacks of hundreds of crumpled cars and miles of rubble that used to be people’s homes. When we pulled up to the empty clothes factory that we were going to be calling home for the following week, I was still trying to absorb the amount of devastation which was far beyond what I had envisaged.
The clothing factory was completely bare of furniture, but it had been divided into sections with an area for cooking and an area for sleeping. The sleeping area was essentially just a large floor space covered in tatami mats with a huge tarpaulin separating the male and female sections. Although to begin with, sharing a sleeping space with 150 other volunteers wasn’t too appealing, after a hard day of physical labour I was able to sleep like a champion every night despite some of the world’s loudest snorers snoozing just a few metres away.
Pulling on a Peace Boat bib, I was introduced to the other eight people in my international team. I struggled intensley to remember everyone’s name on that first day, but spending a week with these eight incredible people, getting sweaty, muddy and emotional certainly forged some firm friendships. We soon got to know each other very well considering we’d wake up less that half a metre away from each other every morning, share cutlery and be able to smell each other’s feet at the end of every day.