From England to Tohoku — PART SEVEN — the end of the trip
Being woken at 5am by a big jolt in Tokyo is one thing — being woken when sleeping in the middle of what those jolts can do is another thing altogether. Still in my sleeping bag, I sack-raced it into the room where everyone else had been sleeping (I’d had to find a spot elsewhere to sleep in the middle of the night because of the snoring! I didn’t have the heart to tell these hardworking guys to be quiet) but were now also awake because of the aftershock. None of the gentle swaying that I’ve experienced in Tokyo — this was violent and very loud.
After getting up (no facilities for a shower which somehow didn’t feel important anyway there) Seiji immediately started making coffee for everyone, and soon a town official turned up with instant ramen for our breakfasts. We were told that the local people’s priority had immediately been to rebuild the shrine overlooking the village and asked if we would like to visit it. Of course we said yes so we all headed up there, along with the man who had appointed himself in charge of rebuilding the shrine. The shrine had been badly 
damaged by the earthquake and not the tsunami, which didn’t quite reach it. As we walked up the steps to the shrine we paused to see how far the water had come up the steps — stopping to turn around and look back it was incredible how far away from the sea we were and how high up this point was. How on earth did anything remain between this point and the ocean? It was staggering to think of what had happened.
I noticed a building close to the sea’s edge — the top floor seemed intact but the entire first floor had been destroyed. The sign on the building was clear though: it was a Hitachi building. I thought of the kindness and support that Hitachi Capital gave me on the UK trip that was eventually to lead us to this point, and hoped that the Hitachi community here on Oshika-hanto knew that their “colleagues” very very far away, were doing so much to help them.
As we walked up the steps to the shrine we saw how each step had been counted and placed one on top of the other to rebuild the walkway. Our guide, along with some volunteers, had somehow procured machines to make the ground flat at the top of the steps, so the shrine could be rebuilt. The large gong/bell had fallen from its place during the earthquake and had now been moved into a more respectful position. The frame of the shrine was warped, and a big pile of rubble was to one side of the main building. 
A snake came and joined us to everyone’s delight — apparently this was a sign of good luck. They needed it.
As we walked back to the community centre we had stayed in, a man in a small pick-up truck with two boxes in the back stopped to chat — it was the father of the boy who wanted to climb in the back of our truck with me as we delivered items the previous night. He was on his way to the local school to take our toys and wondered if we’d like to come along. So we followed him around the corner and met with some of the teachers and students of Ohara Elementary School. This school is now actually two schools combined as nearby Yagawa Elementary School had been completely destroyed by the tsunami; I couldn’t bring myself to ask how many children had been lost but all they had left 
were 29 students and 9 teachers. We chatted to the school administrator and some of the kids for a while, handing over pictures and letters from some Plymouth school children — they loved the drawing of a samurai! I did my usual check to find out what else was needed and we headed back to the community centre to say our goodbyes.
We found the two Yokohama boys with no signs of a hangover at all, happily operating their JCBs side by side. They were clearing away rubble, which they loaded onto a small truck, which then took away the debris. When you saw the extent of the destruction it made you wonder how on earth it will ever get done, but it will be done; it will be done by dedicated people like this, one little bit at a time. The Yokohama boys waved cheerily at us, and Seiji gave us a couple of special magnetic signs for our vehicles that he thought might make our trip a little easier. Until now we had been presenting an 
official paper at the tollbooths, but it turns out that a new official document came into existence around the middle of April — you can get this document from any ward office and it will allow you to travel throughout Japan without paying for tolls. We didn’t have it but for the most part we just apologized a lot, explained what we were doing, and crossed our fingers. 80% of the time they let us through. With our new “emergency supplies” and “helping the Oshika fishermen” signs we thought we would be fine.
We drove on through Oshika-hanto, back toward the gas station where we had left my van, and always stopping when we saw people trying to make it on their own. We came across one house, with much of the frame propped up by beams, and a lady alone outside. We stopped at the side of the road and opened up the back of the truck to find what she needed. As had happened the previous day, passing cars stopped to take a look, and neighbours walked down the road to see what was going on. We had a big box of new underwear that we brought out for people to go through, and Andy nudged me to draw my attention to one lady who had sat down on the step at the back of the truck as she put on a brand new pair of socks. The relief on her face and the happiness in her voice was heartbreaking. I was reminded of a message a bloke posted on Facebook in response to my announcement on March 18th that I was going to the UK to collect items — he had written “Japan doesn’t need anymore socks.” If only he could see this woman two months on! Still needing them! And I wished (yet again!) that people would stop posting inaccurate information about what people do and don’t need, as if everyone throughout the north has the same needs and as if they are an authority on this subject.
One car that had stopped had two very little ones in the back, so I found a box of toys and put them in the trunk. I opened up the box and handed each of the children a toy. The little boy very politely asked for another, so I gave him one. His sister did the same. Then he asked for a third and I told him that they were all for him and he looked at me wide-eyed. I was overcome with the need to give him a cuddle so went round to his side of the car, opened the door, and held my arms out to him. Yes, I know I needed it more than he did. With a big smile he held his arms out to me, toys still firmly in his grip, and I picked him up; his sister soon indicated that she wanted to join in. So the three of us, with all the toys, stood by the side of the road hugging and smiling at each other. That memory still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it and my eyes are blurry right now as I write about it.
By this stage I was completely and utterly in love with Oshika-hanto, and Andy and I couldn’t stop talking about Seiji and my Oshika-hanto Homes idea. Whereas before we had been reluctant to take pictures of the destruction, and had focused on photos that would show people in the UK what had happened to their kind donations, now we realized that we needed to take photos of the land for future reference. One of the most incredible images was of a ship right next to the road — still one of the most bizarre images but ones that can be found throughout the area.
All we had left by now were toothbrushes, toothpaste, nappies, and children’s toys and books. Pretty much everything else had gone. It was incredible to think that everything I had collected in England was so needed two months on, but I was a little concerned about having items that people couldn’t use. I needn’t have worried. We had been told that at around 11am, Watanohe Station would be full of people in need, so we headed over there.
We arrived at the station to find a long line of people sitting on the pavement, and a non-profit organization setting up a lunch station of some kind. It turned out that people were queuing for lunch that would be ready at noon. It was awful to see. So many people all sitting patiently; mostly old people but more than a few very young mums with tiny children, and one heavily pregnant woman that really upset me. I stood feeling helpless and intrusive — I wasn’t sure that the genkiness I had brought to the people making it on their own would have any effect here whatsoever.
Andy came back from talking to the person who seemed to be in charge, who had said that we needed to drive over to the volunteer centre and register before we could do anything here. Bollocks to that, I thought, possibly not thinking clearly and letting emotion get the better of me at this point, but anyone could see that these people needed stuff! I opened up the back of the truck, pulled out a box, carried it over to the queue, and ripped open the top, asking if any of them needed anything and if so to help themselves. I went to and fro again and again, carrying one box at a time, before the people in charge realized that I was going to go ahead and empty the whole truck on my own. Before we knew it there was a gang of officials unloading the truck themselves and placing the boxes in a long, extremely orderly line in front of the station, next to which the people arranged themselves in another long, extremely orderly line.
This would have made an incredibly powerful image for everyone in England — for the Virgin Atlantic staff who flew all these boxes over for free, for the freight-forwarding company that loaded and unloaded all the boxes for me, for the school children that counted all those items and packed the boxes, and for the shoppers who put some extra things in with their shop. This is what happened to that toothbrush you bought for some people in a far away country who you will likely never meet. This is what caring for another human being means. Without your love and kindness — all of you, companies and individuals — this would never have happened. I knew it was important to show you this very powerful moment.
But we couldn’t take the photo. Neither Andy nor I could do it. It was so deeply upsetting to see everyone lined up like that. Andy had the idea of taking a photo as I talked to one of the officials, so that you could see everyone and the boxes behind me, but I couldn’t look at the camera, and I hated doing it. I walked around in a daze, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat that wouldn’t go and hide the tears that were welling up — who was I to even think about being so emotional?! Nobody here needed that!
To try to both distract myself and connect with the people queuing up I started chatting to them. They were curious about our truck, and where all our items came from so I handed one woman our translation that explained everything. She read it out loud and they all clapped at the end — I want the English people who donated items to know how much everything was appreciated but it was too much for me. I wandered off to offer the pregnant woman assistance, taking an empty box and filling it up with things for her and then loading it up in her car. I focused on the young mums and making sure they had plenty of what they needed, and encouraged the little kids to choose some toys they liked. I was relieved when Andy came over and suggested that we go to a supermarket and buy them other things that the officials said they needed here, so we headed off in the truck while everyone walked along the long line of boxes, taking out what they needed.
Again the cash that I had raised came in handy as we filled our trolleys with shampoo, soap, and ramen, and a few bottles of sunscreen — the man in charge had told Andy that he had worked in an office his whole life and was now burning his skin every day. Many others had found themselves in similar situations. We drove everything back to the station and were amazed to find that everything except the children’s books had gone. Everything.
One of the people in charge indicated for us to follow him on his bicycle. We drove for a few minutes and stopped opposite an elementary school playground. There weren’t any people there so I was a bit confused as to what was going on. We put the ramen and shampoo on the ground and people suddenly appeared and took what they needed. Everything was gone within minutes.
It was now early afternoon and we were conscious of the six-hour drive we had back to Tokyo so knew we had to make a move. But we still had the children’s books to get rid of. We drove over to the elementary school and Andy popped in to see if they needed any while I waited around outside. I spotted three kids playing in a huge pile of debris, clearly not at all safe but obviously the most interesting thing they could find to play with, despite the fact that one of them was holding a football under his arm. I wandered over and said that I’d like to play football with him (I’m rubbish but he wasn’t to know at that point!), so we all ran around the empty school playground kicking the ball to each other and attempting to score a few goals until Andy the professional came to join us. No luck with getting rid of the English books, but hopefully we cheered up a few kids for a bit and prevented them from having an accident in the rubble.
As we sat in the truck trying to think of what we should do with the English books, I remembered Tohoku International School and gave them a call. They said that they would be very happy to receive our books so we picked up my van and set off to the school, losing each other on the highway along the way. The look on Andy’s face was quite comical as a massive SDF lorry cut him off and he realized too late that I had turned off. He had no means of navigating his way to the school (we still hadn’t worked out our satnavs and I was navigating with my iPad) so we texted frantically and hoped we would manage to find each other. 
Eventually we connected and arrived at Tohoku International School, who were thrilled to receive so many English-language books for their students, many of whom had lost everything. Andy unloaded the van while I let some of their staff pick my brains about a publishing project they are thinking about doing, as a fundraiser and also as an awareness-raiser. As the Head of School walked us out of the building and back to the van, I noticed that the walls and beams of the entrance were covered in letters and pictures. I stopped to read one — it was from 
Farmor’s School! One of the schools I visited in the UK. I remembered that I had posted an envelope full of letters from Farmor’s students while I was actually in the UK, and as I looked around I saw all these letters posted up around the school entrance. It was actually quite exciting to see all these letters up there, for children, staff, and parents to be reminded on a daily basis, that teenagers in England cared.
Already early evening, we knew we had hours and hours ahead of us to drive back to Tokyo. Neither of us had slept properly for three nights and we were completely exhausted. We stopped several times along the way to reconnect (we each had our own vehicle again) and keep each other going. We stopped at Fukushima Service Station and decided to get something to eat. Sitting down with the local delicacy of beef tongue, I noticed how the entire service station was full of fit Japanese men in some kind of uniform or another: construction workers, some kind of officials, and Metropolitan police officers (let me say here and now that the hot Japanese men are all hanging out in Fukushima). One police officer in particular caught my eye — he was wearing a t-shirt that said “Aiming at gorgeous achievement,” and despite my complete exhaustion, I thought I might try to convince him that if I showered I could indeed be his gorgeous achievement.
My fruitless flirting over, it was back in our vehicles for the rest of the journey back to Tokyo. We arrived at the truck rental place at about 1am, and wearily started cleaning out the vehicles and pulling the Union Jacks off the sides. The night-duty staff member realized where we had been and insisted that he would clean out the vehicles, and also refill them without charge. He also said he would take care of all the cardboard boxes we had brought back with us — I was determined not to leave any unnecessary trash up there for someone else to have to deal with so we’d brought all the boxes back with us.
Andy and I hugged goodbye and I grabbed a taxi back to Ebisu. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — Andy was the perfect companion on this trip and it really wouldn’t have been quite the same without him. I think we made a great team, and I hope that we will be able to go up there again together one day.
I finally got home and, as I counted 26 bruises all over my legs from climbing around the back of the truck, I thought about our encounter with Seiji, and the incredible impact the whole trip to Tohoku had on me. I had found a peace that had eluded me since March 11th, and I had found a renewed sense of purpose. With no mortgage or kids to think about, and now no husband either, I realized that I was free to fully pursue the ideas that had been forming in my head since the earthquake. I had lots to think about and organize before my flight to the UK that was already booked for May 28th, when I would then start the next part of my mission to Help Japan.
—————————-
WANT TO HELP THE CHILDREN AT THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL? They are desperately in need of summer clothes for the children, who range from 120–160cm in height. There are 16 girls and 13 boys and they really need t-shirts and lightweight trousers suitable for the summer. They have lots of pens and books so the teachers say they don’t need any of those but the teachers themselves could probably do with a drink or two! Please send items to Kazuya Nakayama, Ohara Shogakko & Yagawa Shogakko, Ishinomaki shi, Oharahama, Daikouchi 1.