Reunion


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Asia » Japan » Ibaraki » Mito
April 12th 2011
Published: April 12th 2011
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Several times during the night I surface from the fog of sleep wondering whether that is the rumble of a start of an aftershock, but drift off again. I think I may be hearing trains again after they were stopped last night and I’m pleased as it will mean Sakamoto-san will be able to travel up from Tokyo for the MESA meeting. Now the rumbling is becoming more pronounced, it seems as if the building is creaking and now it’s definitely swaying, to and fro. I glance at the clock and see it’s 8.15 am.

After breakfast we check the Asahi website, looking to see how many aftershocks there have been. There were a series of Japanese scale shindo 3 level earthquakes in Fukushima prefecture during the night – the shindo level is lower than the magnitude level as it shows the strength of the shaking at a given place and the maximum is 7, whereas the maximum on the Richter scale is 10. At the lower level of aftershock it’s hard to know if it’s a real one or you’re imagining it, particularly when you’re half asleep. At 8.10 this morning there had been a lower 5 in Chiba prefecture, just to the south of Ibaraki. I count the number of aftershocks on the website for yesterday – about 82 in all of Japan, although they are all concentrated in the north eastern part. I check the other days still showing on the website – 8 aftershocks on the 10th, 20 on the 9th, 9 on the 8th, 12 on the 7th, 13 on the 6th. It seems as if the earth had been calming down but has woken up again.

My path to the MESA meeting takes me along the Sakura River again, under an avenue of sakura trees. I look up through their beauty and see a perfect blue sky. I remember what a German friend once told me when I was despairing of getting everything unpacked into our new flat – don’t worry, she said, the boxes won’t go away. The restoration work won’t go away, but the beauty of the sakura is for now, as next week all the petals will have blown away, but the memory of their enchantment is yours to keep.

I’m so glad to see you all again, I think as I walk into the MESA meeting room. It’s a strange feeling, as if it’s just like old times, but it isn’t as so much has happened in the last month. I can see it on your faces. I have so many questions to ask.

What about all the blue tarpaulins on the roofs? About 3 of the MESA members have blue tarpaulins now on their roofs. It is often the older roofs which have collapsed as the traditional Japanese tiles – kawara – are thick and heavy. The new tiles are thinner and interlocked and so are much more robust. You have to get a builder to put up the blue tarpaulins and some have inflated the normal prices. It’s likely to take a long time before all the roofs are redone – at least a year – as there aren’t enough kawara for all the demand.

Sakamoto-san arrives, and explains with apologies that her train was late. Shortly after leaving Ueno Station in Tokyo it stopped because of an aftershock. It must have been the aftershock we felt just after eight this morning. They had to wait until the trains started running again which was about one hour later.

What about insurance, I ask everyone? Japanese insurance doesn’t cover natural disasters like earthquakes and tsunamis so you have to take out a special insurance. A quick show of hands indicates that the special insurance isn’t common. The price of the insurance depends on the construction method of your house or flat, a modern concrete building being cheaper than a wooden one. How are Japanese people coping with all the disasters? It’s easier in a sense to accept the earthquake and tsunami disasters as they have always existed in Japan, but Fukushima is different as it’s a manmade problem. The radiation from Fukushima isn’t so worrying when you’re older, but if you have young children, it’s different.

I learn much more. There was plenty of information but the problem is knowing what and whom to believe. The Japanese news, CNN and BBC have often given different news. It was disconcerting with all the foreigners leaving. Each area has a designated evacuation centre – usually a school building. When the big earthquake happened on 11th March, there were many visitors from other parts of Japan in Mito who had come to see the plum blossom in Kairakuen. As the trains weren’t running, they stayed the night in the nearby designated evacuation centre, a neighbouring school. Similarly last night when the trains weren’t running, people were directed to a evacuation centre in a nearby school. I think to myself that we need a designated evacuation centre near Heathrow for when it snows.

We’re sitting now in a restaurant for lunch – there are ten of us remaining. The restaurant is made up of separate ‘rooms’ for each group. You take off your shoes to enter the room, and sit on cushions before a table with your legs in a well in the ground. We all take the day’s menu for ¥1000. It comes on a tray, beautifully arranged and so healthy compared with so much English food, that the thought crosses my mind that they could probably eat food glowing with radiation and still be much healthier than the average British person.

Our conversation revolves round the events of the last month. Nakamura-san says how it’s hard to relax with all the aftershocks and to sleep properly at night. She’s tired. Having just spent two nights here with the earth repeatedly moving and everything swaying, I can totally identify with that. We’re talking and we start feeling vibrations and we look up as the intensity increases. The lights start swaying and we carry on looking and notice the air conditioning unit swinging from side to side from the ceiling. The building starts creaking. It’s like being on a boat again. It calms down and then subsides, the lights gently swinging until they cease.

We’re climbing up Sakura Yama, a hill covered with cherry blossom trees opposite Kairakuen in Mito. The trees are in full blossom but there’s no-one picnicking on the ground. They tell me that normally it’s much busier in the cherry blossom season. There is a notice which they translate for me – words to the effect that out of respect for those suffering in the north east, there will be no night illuminations and that the event has been cancelled. Please enjoy ohanami but out of jishuku, please don’t have parties or karaoke. I remember that the only other time I’ve been here in the sakura season, there was a man standing on a crate doing karaoke. It isn’t for me to say, but I feel that after so much stress the last month, everyone deserves some light heartedness.

It’s time to say goodbye. I feel sad, that it will most likely be another year before I see them all again, but I also feel very, very pleased I came. I feel I know now just a little bit what they’ve been going through. And I’m left with a warm glow of friendship.

Enjoy the sakura!

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12th April 2011

MOVING
I've just read your blog. It was beautifully written and a wonderful insight into Japanese culture.We are no longer hearing much about what is going on in Japan, and it is good to hear your first hand accounts and views. Thankyou for your insight.

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