Story of a Fukushima Evacuee

In Aizuwakamatsu city a speaker from Tomioka town described her experience following the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant disaster. Yoshiko Aoki was the principal of Tomioka High School. As the town is located within a 20km radius of the nuclear plant, all residents were evacuated. They will most likely never return. This is an excerpt from her talk, taken from my notes.

Tomioka town in the Futaba district of Fukushima had a population of 15,839. It was a small town, but famous for having some of the most beautiful cherry blossoms in Japan. Every year Spring was celebrated with the Yonomori Sakura festival. The cherry blossoms trees were lit up on the nights of the festival, and there was a free market, yosakoi dancing and karaoke contests. Volunteers worked hard to plant new cherry blossom trees each year, ensuring that the festival could be enjoyed for generations to come.

Cherry blossom picture from Tomioka Town website (here)

On March 11, 2011 Tomioka town was hit by a shindo 7 earthquake and 22 metre high tsunami. It took the lives of 109 residents.

The next day, all remaining residents were ordered to evacuate. We didn't understand why - not all houses were badly damaged. We had survived the earthquake and tsunami, why did we have to leave now?

The reason was that less than 20km away, the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant had exploded - but no one was told this at the time.

People didn't know what to bring, or how long they would be gone, so many didn't bring anything with them. There was only one route to evacuate from, as a main highway was damaged. The only place to go was a nearby village, Kawauchi. Usually it would take 20 minutes to get there; following the disaster it took 8 hours. The Tomioka evacuees were supported by the village for a little while, but soon Kawauchi was also told that its residents must evacuate.

After that 3000 people went to the Big Palette convention centre in Koriyama, Fukushima, which had been turned into an evacuation centre. Upon arrival, residents underwent a screening inspection for radiation.

Initially evacuees had nothing but cardboard boxes to protect their privacy. Messages were written on bulletin boards, for families who had been separated in the confusion of the evacuation. Emergency plans were put in place, in case there were more aftershocks.

When it became clear that we would be staying there for a while, we did things to improve life in the evacuation centre. A 'women only' space was planned for privacy. People set up an FM radio station, to communicate the latest information. Residents could watch the broadcasts taking place in front of them, and this became a sort of social gathering.

The most difficult part was that there were no prospects, no jobs - everyday was just eating and sleeping. It was often stressful and irritating sharing the same space with 3,000 people. Of course, flu and infections spread easily - but these could be treated by a doctor. It was the mental diseases that were not so easily treated.

Residents created a 'help each other' centre. Students volunteered to give foot baths and massages, and lent an ear to those who wanted to talk. As people began to talk more, faces began to brighten.

By August 2011, the evacuation centre had closed. Evacuees were now scattered all over Fukushima, and even Japan. The community that was once so strong had been destroyed, giving rise to a new challenge - how to reconnect the Tomioka town residents?

The solution was relatively simple. We created a phonebook, tracking down and listing the present addresses and numbers of Tomioka residents throughout Japan.

With the future so uncertain, it has been important to create something for the people to live for - something to encourage them to live for tomorrow.

What happened in Fukushima during the disaster was different to other areas in Tohoku who only experienced the earthquake and tsunami. In Fukushima, we had been told the nuclear plants were safe. We felt shocked and betrayed. A natural disaster you can forget, but the nuclear disaster was a human error.

Despite this, it is necessary to remember we may be the victims of a disaster, but we are also the heroes and heroines of the reconstruction. I want people to love Fukushima.

A year after the diaster, visitors in radiation proof suits admire the cherry blossoms in Tomioka (source)

Hanami - Flower Viewing

One of the strangest (and luckiest) things about being back in New Zealand is that when I arrived in Japan at the start of the year it was spring there, and now that I'm home it's spring again here! After what was apparently a warm winter, the cherry blossoms around Dunedin are in early bloom, bringing back memories of those first few weeks in Japan, drinking chu-hi at Osaka Castle and going on trips to Kyoto, making new friends and enjoying the hanami season. Last week, thanks to the Japanese Department, we had our very own hanami party at Otago University.

Clocktower and Cherry Blossoms

Otago University

We had rain, hail and snow earlier in the week, but luckily it was a beautiful day, and the sakura had survived the harsh weather. There were probably over a hundred people who gathered under the university's cherry blossom trees. We listened to the Koto and Taiko groups perform traditional Japanese music live, and enjoyed sushi... as well as chips, coke and muffins (proper Japanese food is slightly hard to find here). The party attracted quite a lot of attention from students walking to class, who seemed slightly bemused by all the people wearing yukata, dancing around, and worshipping the cherry blossoms. I was excited because I finally got an opportunity to wear a yukata my friends in Hiroshima had given me five years ago, which I forgot to take with me to Japan this time.

Yukata ladies... that's me on the left (ignore my shoes)!

It might not quite have had the glory or drunkenness of a hanami party in Japan, but the sakura were there, and that was all that mattered. It was awesome to be able to experience a little slice of Japanese culture right here in Dunedin.

Sakura Wishes: A Sunday Spent in Gion

Today marks the end of the hanami season, as the sakura petals are noticeably falling from the trees, swirling through the air like little pink fairies. They say that if you can catch a falling sakura petal in your hand, you can make a wish, and it will come true. I love superstitions like this, and was lucky enough to make wishes in one of my favourite places in Japan - Kyoto. We had our last hanami at the famous Maruyama Park near Yasaka Shrine in the Gion district.

Sakura tree outside Kawaramachi Station

People gather for final hanami at Yasaka Shrine in Gion, Kyoto

 

People partaking in hanami

The weeping cherry tree at Maruyama Park

It was a lot of fun, but at the same time, I felt there was a hint of sadness to the occasion. Not only because the sakura have nearly disappeared for another year, but also because of an accident that occurred in Gion on Thursday, where seven people were killed when an out of control minivan plowed through a busy pedestrian crossing. I found out about the accident through The Japan Times, but I'm not sure if it's made worldwide news. The Japanese media still doesn't seem to know what was wrong with the driver (who was also killed in the crash), but there's some speculation that he had an epileptic seizure, and that caused the accident. Whatever happened, it was an awful tragedy to occur at what is meant to be such a happy, beautiful time of year in Japan.

Street sign marking Gion

Tribute placed for the victims of Thursday's accident

As we made our way to Maruyama Park, we passed the intersection where the accident happened. You can still see police chalk marks on the road, and beside the pedestrian crossing are tributes for the victims, containing flower bouquets, tea, alcohol, and wagashi (traditional sweets). Being a busy Sunday afternoon, thousands of people hurried through the intersection; tourists heading off to Kyoto's various attractions, Japanese people on their way to hanami parties, everyone just going about their daily lives. But as I stood by the crossing and watched for a little while, every now and then, someone would stop by the mass of flowers, bow their head and clasp their hands together in a Shinto prayer for a brief moment, and then carry on. I think that's a very Japanese way of dealing with tragedy.

Hanami Party: Chu-hi and Cherry Blossoms

Last night, a big group of us Kandai students made our way to Osaka Castle, carrying tarpaulin mats, beer, Chu-hi (cocktail in a can), vodka, snacks, bubbles, chocolate, cameras and card games. It was my first ever 'yozakura' (night cherry blossom) party. In somewhat related news, this morning also saw in my first ever Chu-hi related hangover.

Osaka Castle, lit up on a warm Spring evening

Hanami is serious business in Japan. To get the premium 'flower viewing' spots, it's not uncommon for employers to get their employees to sit outside for hours, holding down a space until the company's hanami party officially begins. As we left the Osaka Castle station exit, we even saw a man in a suit holding up a sign that said 'X Company's Hanami Party this way'. It's important to know exactly what patch of grass you will be occupying, and how to get there.

It's obvious what all the fuss is about. The cherry blossoms are painfully beautiful, and viewing them at night - yozakura - makes the experience all the more magical. The lights of the city and the lit-up castle acted as a backdrop for the frothy petals, and lanterns are strung between trees, so everything glows romantically. It's like being in a Miyazaki movie, or wandering in a very pink, candyfloss filled dream.

Food stalls!

Just as you thought I was getting all soppy and poetic, onto more important things: the grub. Everyone knows that at a hanami party, food and drink are almost more enjoyable than the actual cherry blossoms. Loud, garish food stalls line the path on the way to the castle, and the scents of fried noodles and octopus tentacles waft through the air, mingling with the perfume of the blossoms. I had takoyaki drenched in tangy sauce and sprinkled with seaweed flakes. Yum.

Chilling under a sakura tree.

The loud, crazy hanami party gang.

When we got to our spot, the drinks flowed, the snacks were devoured, and the conversation got slightly more frantic, as the alcohol consumption began to hinder our respective Japanese and English language skills. I personally suffered from a little too much liquid confidence in my own language ability, and found myself struggling to explain in Japanese the multiple meanings of 'perky nana'. (Which is first and foremost the name of a banana-flavoured chocolate bar in New Zealand).

I dressed up in florals with flowers in my hair for the occasion.

The sad thing about cherry blossoms is that they only last for a short time - maybe a week or two. Numerous haiku have been written using cherry blossoms as metaphors, for things that are beautiful but are gone too soon. I would like to take this opportunity to use cherry blossoms as a metaphor for the drinks at our Hanami party. They were also gone too soon.

Watch the video of our Hanami Party here!