Accomplishments and Frustrations...

Sean in Kesennuma

Earthquake, tsunami
Sight and smell I can't forget
I am not the same

I sit with my family, in my home and sip a local beer.  They are distractions for now to keep me from thinking, from remembering…

We were warned.  One of the dangers of going is to know what it feels like to help and to want to stay, to want to do more than the opportunity allows.  Knowing creates an emotional battlefield that, while may have been expected, most of us were unprepared to deal with.  I was unprepared. 

But in the end, what personal and emotional struggles the alumni of the Flight of Friendship to Sendai, Japan might have, it pales in comparison to the struggle in every aspect of life and living that the people of northeastern Japan must cope with now and for the foreseeable future.  We had a unique opportunity to enter a world that few outside of the area will ever experience first-hand. 

Teamwork!

For a few moments we realized a bit of accomplishment that would then settle into a melancholy we came to expect as we hauled a tree stump down to an impromptu dump that was once a playground, as we cleared signs identifying evacuation points out of streams, as we pulled a child’s toy from piles of debris, as neighbors watched us clean up a house and then asked when we could start on theirs.

When people ask about the scope of devastation resulting from the double-whammy Mother Nature provided, my general response has been to ask people to think about the entire 300+ mile coastline of Oregon and all the towns and small communities.  Think about every one of those locations having significant loss and damage and then the logistical challenge of accessing every one of those communities because honestly, right now, every one of those communities is in desperate need.

But it’s just not possible.  This is the reality in northeastern Japan. 

There are supplies sitting in warehouses… but they can’t get the supplies north.  There are people around the world wanting to lend a hand… but they can’t get to Ground Zero.  Not to say that absolutely nothing is happening, a lot is, but a lot more is needed.  This disaster happened to one of the most patient and proud civilizations ever to exist, but even their patience has its limits when no progress is perceived and sometimes pride needs to be swallowed to avoid an even further fall.

For the Children

However, in spite of any defeatist sentiment I may have conveyed, there are smiles and hope in the heart of it all.  There are children attending school in the only building left standing in a community, there are families being reunited, there is new housing being built, there is an ingrained mentality in the people that life moves on and so they must look forward, not back. 

While there, I was asked how we would carry the message of what we did, what we saw, back to the United States, back to the world.  It was tough to respond because their fear is that they might already be forgotten, and for most, that is close to the truth.  But they have us now, to help share the struggles that they continue to face in the hopes that we will remember.  We will.

Japanese and Americans working together!

We were warned, but it was a warning we all embraced.  It was hard to be there, but harder yet to come home when so many still have nothing to come home to.

All's Quiet on the Northeastern Front

As we drove into Ishinomaki we sort of honestly questioned what we could do to help this town that obviously didn't seem to have been impacted much by the...

An empty foundation against the 

backdrop of homes still standing

The transition into the devastation was slow.  It snuck up on us.  That wasn't nice.  Observing with wild abandon, cameras, iPhones, iPads all clicking away or rolling with video, capturing the change in landscape that we had been waiting to witness.  Not knowing that we had not seen anything yet.  It is hard to gauge and to put in perspective that which you have not witnessed first hand.  To this point we had no idea, no perspective of the diversity of the wreckage we were about to see just from this town and its surroundings.

A building still standing, serves as a backdrop to a house or business (we could not tell) completely demolished.  How did one stand and the other literally wash away?  But that building that still stands...  It provides still a symbol of civilization, of society, of economy, that we will not be washed away in totality.

And we see images and witness carnage most of us have never seen before (outside of the CNN or a YouTube video) and roll through streets, over bridges, through tunnels, up winding mountain roads - perilous from the earthquake damage - and down into a town built into a small bay...

No, it used to be a town.  I know now why such experiences haunt people for a lifetime.

The vista of what was once Ooginohama

It took us Oregonians to snap out of the similar surroundings - "Gee, this looks a lot like the Oregon coast." Amongst the trees and at the foot of a rising forest in the flats of the bay's shoreline was nothing but broken, split, torn, ripped, shredded, twisted, ravaged construction strewn serenely across the landscape. 

Ooginohama, that was the name.  It takes a bit to learn, but once you do, you will never forget.  And so we laced our boots up a bit tighter, pulled the gloves on more firmly, and prepared to spend the day doing something, anything to help get this town, these people, back into a position where they can start to rebuild.  Looking out at the vista there was no ability to rebuild.  Three months after the event the scope of the recovery is still evident and a daunting task.  But every task must start somewhere, and ours started at a little creek and forest below the local elementary school.  And it would bring balance to us, it would be our Yin to the Yang that our eyes had just witnessed.

More to come, but for those who can't wait, here are more pictures of the day in Ishinomaki on Flickr

Itte Kimasu (いって きます) - I'll be Back

It is customary in Japan when you are leaving your home to let others know you are heading out with a simple "itte kimasu."  What you get back is a customary response of "itte rashai."  Sometimes I do feel like this is home and instead of saying sayonara (goodbye) or jaa, mata (until I see you again), I want to let them know that I'll be right back.

I sit in the airport with so many stories to share, not just of the experience of Toohoku, but the dynamics and personalities of the Flight of Friendship group where it seemed so many people shone and so many new friends were made.

I will share these stories, but not today, not now.  I am going to stew a little bit more on the flight and come up with more catchy titles such as "Wasuremono Nai De" that will draw the reader in a little deeper into our world.  So I will let Bob (see picture) send us all of with a kampai (cheers) and an otsukaresama deshita (let us reflect on the tiredness of our efforts of the day).

Visiting Ground Zero

There were many, many ground zeros during the tsunami. Most of us have seen footage of the tsunami from up and down the eastern Japanese seaboard.

See if you can find this in the video!

However, today our group went to Kesennuma, a small town about 2 1/2 hours North of Sendai (see the map).

This town is a bit famous thanks to YouTube and is actually the town in which the video I posted earlier.

Watch the video again. We drove down the roads since washed away. We passed by and looked up to where townfolk congregated wondering if this was the end. We arrived almost 3 months later and found this:

There is so much to do...

Japan is Watching!

Quick Update:
A camera crew followed us up to Ishinomaki, about an hour north-northeast of Sendai today and got us in the local and national news.  One of our colleagues got an email from his host family in Tokyo that they had seen the coverage so it was very cool to think of millions of Japanese hearing about Oregonians coming to help en masse.
See the video here on FNN (Fuji News Network).

So tired right now, but today was a day where the smiles got bigger and the spirits got higher.  We were finally able to roll up our sleeves and have at it.  We made lots of friends along the way and saw the bonds within our group grow even stronger.

More stories and pictures to come soon...



Looking for a harbor




Excitement was palpable as the rest of the group sent off the first wave in style.



Bless the Children

Sean

Miki Endo

As we boarded the bus this morning and set off for Sendai, our guide bade us good morning.  After a quick review of the day's plans, she paused to share with us a story.   Being so early in the morning and in the trip, I was expecting a story of hope, of bravery, of dedication, and it was...  but with a twist.  This is that story...

Ms. Miki Endo sat at her office on March 11, 2011 doing her daily work in her job in the emergency preparedness office.  This was no glamorous job and the Japanese had good warning systems in place, the coastline was well fortified with man-made sea walls and the towns people had practiced the tsunami warnings countless times.  So when the earthquake hit, and the tsunami warning went off, Miki moved into a role she was well prepared for.

Buddhist monk watches over Nishihon

Ganji Sendai Betsuin Temple

Her voice echoed over the town, helping guide people to the safety of the heights.  Her job was simple, but possibly the most important job of any time, of any place, and for anyone hearing her voice.  Townsfolk took heed of her warnings and moved to the heights, away from the coastline, the pending disaster that had still yet to materialize.  She was providing knowledge and time.  Both so precious at this moment.

The first of seven waves began to pound and overtake the coastline.  The man-made structures, weakened by the earthquake, toppled underneath the unyielding force of the tsunami.  And it kept coming.  And Miki's voice kept on, guiding stragglers to safety, to life.  There was no questioning Miki's dedication to her job and the responsibility of her town.

And the waters did not stop and so Miki continued her steadfast courage in the face of the unknown.  How much more would the waters rise?  How much more could her voice bring the guiding angels to the townspeople?  So she sat in her room on the third floor of the city building.  She sat there and repeated the words of life until it was no longer possible...

Three weeks later they found Miki's body.  It was not easy to recognize her body as the waters had rendered her naked and pure, save for one small bracelet.  Upon seeing the bracelet, her parents were able to identify their daughter and remember the day that she had been given the charm by her fiance.

Triton's spear awakes
From mother earth's fierce tremors
The spirit endures