Happy Valentine’s Day! Even though I wasn’t with Mr W my day was absolutely filled with love! I spent about five hours handing out the chocolates and Valentine’s gifts that so many people had sent up from Tokyo (and some from overseas). There were literally hundreds of gifts to hand out — they filled three huge boxes that I kept in the back of the car.

It’s funny how sometimes exactly what you need presents itself to you. A couple of weeks ago, when I started planning Valentine’s Day, I thought I needed something to put the chocolates in so I could offer a wide selection to people and they could have fun choosing what they liked. I thought a basket would be perfect but would have no idea where to get one from in Tokyo let alone here. The very next day I spent a few hours helping out at the gas station in the town next to Ohara — I’d had a bit of spare time and thought wiping car windows would be a fun way to chat to people (it was!). I had a coffee with Mrs Suda, the wife of the gas station’s owner, and an incredibly creative woman — she showed me countless dolls, wreaths, and various woven items, including the exact basket I’d had in my mind! I explained what I had planned for Valentine’s Day and asked her if I could borrow it.

So today I travelled around the peninsula, with this beautiful basket that I filled over and over again with chocolates, constantly jumping in and out of the car (every time saying “I love you” to Mr W’s photo that I had stuck on the inside of the car before I left Tokyo).

As soon as I’d loaded up the car the local bus pulled up, with a bunch of old people on it as usual, so I stopped the bus and ran on handing out chocolates to them all, including the driver. I’m told that most people on the peninsula have heard of me now; Hanako (the PA of the president of an NGO that has played a major part in this area’s recovery) told me yesterday that lots of people ask her if she knows there is an English girl on Oshika and has she spoken to me — we both find this quite amusing. So I think the old ladies on the bus were quite happy to have met the English girl at last!

First stop was of course Kucho-san and Hiroyuki back at the Ohara Centre. Then I tried not to fall down the steep slope down to the beach where I knew the Ohara boys would be doing their “community activities” and offered them the chocolates, wishing them a “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Back to the centre again, I was pleased to run into Takako-sensei and pulled out what looked like an especially posh box of chocolates for her. Then I went up to the elementary school and walked in and out of the classrooms (not forgetting the teachers’ room) wishing everyone a Happy Valentine’s Day. They were all thrilled and one of the teachers later popped in to the centre to tell me that they are putting my visit on their website tomorrow morning (http://www.mediaship.ne.jp/~elsohar/index.html). I saw some of the kids later that day, when I was going for my run, and they all waved and yelled at me in the distance. (I have so much fun when I go running and never quite know what might happen — I have seen a herd of deer watching me silently go by, and had a woman run after me shouting “gambatte” as she handed me sweets.)

Then I headed over to Kobuchi to see the Sasakis, but had some fun along the way, firstly stopping at Yachin-san’s factory and handing out chocolates to all his staff, as well as the out-of-town construction workers who are rebuilding his factory. Further along the road, I stopped when I just saw people walking along and handed out gifts to them, even winding down the window to hand out a chocolate heart to the driver of another vehicle if we had to slow down over a particularly broken or bumpy part of the road. I really wish all of you that sent up chocolates could have seen everyone’s faces.

After popping in on Mrs Sasaki, I also dropped by Endo-san’s combini and handed chocolates out to all her staff and customers, and then did the same at the barber’s around the corner. A little further along I remembered the lady who encouraged me with sweets, and popped in on her too. Then I drove up to the temporary preschool that I visit every few days with clothes and toys, and was happy to find that all of the little ones were in the same room, along with all their teachers and a few mums too. It did, predictably, turn into complete chaos, which was great fun!

Then it was off to Ayukawa, the last town on the peninsula, where I handed out chocolates in every shop in the little temporary shotengai, and had some fun with one of the guys who asked if he could choose what he liked, and I said of course, so he said he’d like to choose me. I’ve always rather liked the harmless flirting from Japanese men — I’ve never found it threatening or offensive but instead just a little bit charming and fun. Then another teased me saying that it wasn’t “giri-choco” (the chocolate gifts Japanese women give to their bosses because they feel obligated to, as opposed to the chocolate they give to someone they actually have feelings for) and everyone started teasing him and saying he was naughty for being so flirtatious. It was really good fun!

It was an interesting way to explain about a certain cultural difference too — I noticed that the women needed more encouragement to choose some chocolate so then explained that in the UK, Valentine’s Day isn’t a day for men to feel special but for men and women to feel special (and perhaps women even more so). So there was a lot of laughter when I kept telling everyone that Japan had got it all wrong and that women were the special ones on Oshika today.

I stopped in the sushi shop for a quick lunch and to hand out more gifts. I had a lovely chat with the very official-looking men who kept coming in there — sometimes I am amazed how I manage here with my limited Japanese skills. I guess it doesn’t really matter if you connect from the heart — and today was definitely all about the heart.

By this time I had visited all the main places I’d wanted to, so I decided to go to a couple of the temporary housing communities where I had made friends, and literally knocked on one door after the other with my basket, dropping some chocolate or sweets in the post-box if there wasn’t anybody home — a nice surprise for them tonight! One old man’s face was a picture! He just could not comprehend what on earth this British woman was doing grinning inanely and wishing him a “Happy Valentine’s Day!” at the door of his temporary home, miles away from anywhere, offering him chocolates. I really think he might have believed that I’d flown all the way from England just to give him some chocolate.

It was a wonderful way to spend the day — to all you lovely people in other parts of Japan (and other countries) who gave chocolates — please know that together we brought smiles to literally hundreds of faces today.

Thank you so much for spreading so much love with me on Valentine’s Day.

Yesterday, one of my closest friends and her husband travelled up from Tokyo to spend 24 hours with me here — she has seen me through everything that’s happened in the last twelve months (as well as everything back during the stroke years) and really wanted to see me here. It was nice to be able to talk in English with someone who knows me inside out, as well as get her (Japanese) husband’s perspective on a few things.

They arrived just in time for me to drive them to the edge of the peninsula so they could look out at Kinkasan and also the direction of the epicentre of the earthquake, and also get to see a typically beautiful Oshika sunset. I had dinner with them at their hotel (yes there are some hotels in business here although most of them are fully booked with various government and construction workers involved in the recovery and redevelopment efforts) and left them to a night on their own without the kids.

I picked them up this morning and took them right over to meet the Sasakis — I had more cat food to give Mrs Sasaki and a lovely Japanese lady in Tokyo had sent up a homemade cake, so I wanted to share it with my old and new friends over coffee. Mr Sasaki was his usual flirty self and it was nice to be able to reassure my girlfriend that people here were taking care of me. My girlfriend had donated some money to my fund months ago, and I had allocated her donation to a project for the Sasakis so it was nice to be able to show her it then and there, and for her to meet the people it would directly benefit.

Mr Sasaki is a wakame fisherman and, like Mr Saito and the rest of the Ohara fishermen, he is getting ready to start the wakame season at the beginning of March. He has just about everything he needs, except a special “processing” facility. They now live in what used to be their garage/storage space, to which Robert Mangold built a little room (where I slept earlier last week), a kitchen out of the debris, and a bathroom. The space where their house used to be has been cleared of all the debris and flattened. When I first met them almost three weeks ago the space was empty and I used to park my car there. Now there is a metal frame (it is surprising to see how things change in even a few weeks) that is the first step in the creation of this wakame processing facility. All it needs now are the walls, but Mr Sasaki doesn’t have the money to be able to get them. In the meantime he was planning on covering the wakame with plastic sheets and praying that it wouldn’t rain; otherwise the entire wakame would be ruined.

Just like the water pump for the Ohara fishermen and farmers, this seemed like the perfect project to support — Mr Sasaki had done as much as he possibly could on his own, was getting worryingly close to the time when he really needed to be able to work, and was a genuinely lovely person with whom I had connected. I felt sure that the people who donated funds would love to support him and his wife as they rebuilt their life.

So tomorrow the carpenter is coming and will work out the details of what is necessary to finish the facility, and hopefully I’ll be getting hands on and learning how to put walls up with him on Thursday. It was great to be able to show all of this to my girlfriend — someone who had contributed money.

I then drove my friends around the other side of the peninsula — where absolutely everything was wiped out. On the Ohara side of the peninsula there are at least a few buildings still standing, and a few new ones slowly going up. The other side is very different. I told them various stories I had learned of the little towns that used to be there, and we headed back to Ohara where I showed them the land I am hoping to buy, and we had lunch at the temporary ramen shop.

Even though my friend was only visiting for a very short time, the impact visiting here had on her was huge and I wasn’t surprised. Oshika had a massive impact on me back in May when I first came here — I always say that I was in a deeply “fragmented” state after the earthquake (and I wasn’t even in the country when it happened!) and it was only two months later when I visited Oshika that I felt at peace again. Despite the massive amounts of debris that was everywhere at that time, I found so much beauty, both in the people and the scenery. I thought of Oshika every day during the seven months that followed while I was in the UK, and even though I knew that being in England was the right thing for me to do at that time, making that decision to spend time away from my adopted home was not without its conflict. I felt guilty and anxious, sometimes scared, and was easily moved to tears by thoughts of Japan. But I trusted my instincts, held on to faith that I was doing the right thing, and found comfort both in the British schoolchildren with whom I could share my love for Japan, and with the lovely Mr W who gave me a place to cry for and talk and talk and talk about my adopted country whenever I needed to.

It was a big decision for me to leave my marriage, my home, my dogs, and my friends, but I felt the fear and did it anyway, as they say. Having come back to Oshika again, I know that decision was, without a doubt, the right thing to do. Again, Oshika has brought peace to me, and has been a big part of my healing, not just healing the emotions associated with the earthquake, but also healing emotions associated with everything that was my life before the earthquake.

Since the earthquake I have seen many people in need of healing — of course there are the people here in Tohoku for whom the impact is unfathomable; their homes, families, lives, jobs, and everything they knew needed healing, and still does. But in seeing how well people are coping here, I wonder if this is bringing healing to so many more people? It really is amazing to see how people literally live among the piles and piles of garbage and debris that used to be their lives. This wasteland is now their life. But they laugh and smile and go about their new reality, with courage that is also unfathomable.

The outpouring of love while I have been here, especially from people in other parts of Japan, has really surprised me. I have received boxes and boxes of donated items that I have distributed every single day. In the past two weeks I have received more than ¥200,000 (over £1,700) in cash donations without even asking, as well as contributions toward petrol (and while I’m on that subject, I know I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: donations NEVER go on any kind of “expenses” — everything goes to benefit the tsunami victims directly and petrol contributions are always treated separately and specified as such; anything else I pay for myself).

Eleven months on, people outside of Tohoku still want to help, and I think this is part of their own healing too. I see Japanese friends who are disappointed in their government, and unsure of the future of a country of which they were once so proud. I receive extremely long emails from non-native English speakers who are following what I am doing in Oshika, and are encouraged by the stories I share. They write in the beautiful way that I always think Japanese people who are not great at English write — they find pure ways to express their feelings and they always make me just a little tearful. It hadn’t really occurred to me that my visit here would be healing for anyone, but maybe it has been just a little bit; it certainly has been for me.

And for my friend, I can see the effect visiting here has had on her. She took me to one side as her husband got the car warmed up, and within minutes we were both in tears as she said a few simple words that clearly showed just how healing this had been for her; the healing that had been necessary wasn’t just about the earthquake for her either.

Today was a very special day for the tiny shrine at the top of Ohara, and as such, there was a matsuri. Of all the days I’ve spent here so far, today probably provided the best evidence of just how warm and welcoming the Ohara people are, and how much the people from outside of Tohoku who have volunteered their time during the eleven months, have now become part of this tiny community.

The weekends are always full of activity on Oshika. The area that used to be the town of Ohara was filled with three different groups of volunteers today. They don’t seem to interact very much with the people who actually live in Ohara, and are coordinated by various organizations based in Ayukawa or Ishinomaki. Today the three groups all consisted of Japanese people mostly from Tokyo, although last week I met a group of about 50 Americans in their early twenties, who were on a gap year volunteering their time and had chosen to spend one week in Japan. These large groups of volunteers are the ones who have cleared 70% of the large debris from Ohara, and you can still see groups of them, especially on the weekends, chipping away at the small debris with their shovels. It is dusty, dirty, and difficult — they work bloody hard, although stood and watched respectfully as the Ohara people walked up to the shrine to mark the beginning of the matsuri.

There is another kind of volunteer effort that brings volunteers a little closer to the people who have been affected by the tsunami — these are people who give haircuts or footbaths to, or organize coffee mornings with, the people in the temporary housing units. A great part of their work is to simply spend time with people and to allow them to talk openly. These people have become part of people’s lives here in a more intimate way — quite a few of them were present during certain parts of the matsuri today.

Then there are people who don’t seem to be affiliated with any organization but are drawn to Ohara. Some of them seem to have made real relationships with the local people, but to be honest some of them seem to have made coming here on weekends a kind of hobby — I have found this a little bewildering and more than a little annoying. When I think of the word “volunteer” I think of someone who works their backside off all day helping others and eats on the go — they are aware that their time is limited and are keen to make the most of it. I don’t think of a volunteer as someone who spends half their time chain-smoking, sitting down to extensive meals, and drinking until the early hours of the morning with other “volunteers.” It would be different if they were doing this with the locals because at least then it would all be part of building relationships and bringing a sense of fun in the middle of everything.

I know this is me looking at things from my Western perspective, and I have only shared this opinion with a couple of other people (who surprised me by saying they felt the same). I really have been trying to understand this new “volunteer culture” but I just don’t get it — come here and hang out if that’s what you want to do because it is an incredible place, but don’t call yourself a volunteer.

But today, it didn’t matter who was a volunteer and who wasn’t. Today, the Ohara people made everyone feel like they were part of Ohara too. Preparations for the matsuri began at 10am, when we walked to the bottom of the shrine’s steps and two huge flags were erected. Then it was up to the shrine on top of the hill. The last time I came here was in May, when the steps and the shrine had been very badly damaged by the earthquake. The steps are all now in perfect place but honestly I was amazed that the shrine was still standing — it has more support beams, brackets, weights, and heavy band things holding it all together than I have ever seen. I was later told that the shrine is over 400 years old, and everyone is desperately hoping for it to be repaired by 20^th July, the day of a very important matsuri for the town. It will cost about 20 million yen to repair, and there is a small chance that the government will give the town 15 million yen toward the cost. The town has already managed to raise two million yen themselves through donations, so that would leave another three million, which they think they might be able to manage.

We walked back to Ohara Centre, and everybody got to work transforming the main room — a 400-year-old “mandara” (kind of a huge ancestral banner) that belongs to Kucho-san’s family was placed at the front, with a large piece of wood that is the okamisama (god). There isn’t supposed to be a new block of wood this year but the old one was washed away by the tsunami — lots of the fishermen went out looking for it as they believed it would bring them lots of fish if they found it, but it was never found. The shrine’s priest painted on the wood, food was placed strategically, and the walls were covered with fishing boat flags all with messages hoping for lots of fish. The level of teamwork was exceptional. Everybody seemed to know exactly what to do and I wanted to help but didn’t really know how to so just took photos and tried not to get in the way. It was amazing to watch everything going on.

Usually the fishermen would have carried the town mikoshi (portable shrine) around Ohara, but it hasn’t yet been repaired after the tsunami, and anyway the roads are too damaged around here.

As people from the Ohara community arrived people kept coming up to me and showing me their new gloves, coat, or sweater, and thanking me for bringing them. It was lovely to see people so pleased with their new items and I really wished that everyone who donated could also see it.

We followed the priest up to the shrine and all the Ohara people went inside. All of us non-locals stayed outside, until a couple of the locals saw us all and indicated for everyone to move and make room for us. I was so touched that they allowed us to join this special ceremony with them. I couldn’t understand anything that the priest said in his singsong chanting (except for the words for March 11^th and volunteer) but I was mesmerized by the sound of his voice and the peace of the shrine. Then we headed back towards the centre, not before ringing the huge bell three times. What a beautiful sound carried over Ohara.

Back at the centre, there was another similar ceremony, this time praying to the wood block that the priest had painted. This was followed by lots of drinking and eating (watching Saito-san trying to get the priest drunk was very entertaining) and what I think was the Japanese equivalent of stand-up comedy. I couldn’t follow everything but it basically involved taking the mick out of drunk people and old Japanese people travelling overseas, with a few fart jokes thrown in. It seems we have a similar sense of humour …..

Today was an amazing experience for me and all the other people who have come to grow fond of Ohara and been so welcomed by the locals here. I will carry with me wonderful memories that are not just visual. What will stay with me the most is the sound of that shrine bell ringing out across the town; and in the background the sound of the many volunteers with their shovels chipping away at the ground as if to say, “Please go about your daily lives and celebrate your community rituals, and just know that we’re here, supporting you all the way.”

So far I’ve been focusing my energies on the human impact of the tsunami on a very individual level; just trying to make a tiny difference to the people that I meet during my time here. Along the way I have discovered quite a few things that simply don’t make sense to me, and make me wonder what really is going on with the people who have the power to make a real difference. I tend to be of the opinion that we are all responsible for the wellbeing of the people around us, but in our developed countries we put people in government positions where they are supposed to be responsible for the wellbeing of others. And in my very short time here, I have found myself wondering what is really happening on a government level. I’m not the only one.

Mr Ohnishi is, as he puts it, a “volunteer politician.” Based in Yokohama, he used to play in a senior role at JP Morgan until he became disillusioned with what he calls a soulless existence. He spent the first twenty years of his life making money, and decided that he didn’t want to spend the next twenty years of his life not creating anything of real value — his industry didn’t make any sense to him anymore. He got involved in an Internet business and started an Italian restaurant in Yokohama. He says that JP Morgan taught him to look at the world in terms of numbers — billions of dollars and millions of people. But the restaurant business has taught him about individuals. He understands how “the system” works but appreciates how it affects people on a very personal level. He doesn’t like what he sees and he wants to do something about it.

Since the earthquake he has been trying to bridge the gap between central government in Tokyo and the individuals affected by the disaster. He says that the people of Tohoku are not only suffering from the effects of the tsunami but also of the effects of decisions made in Tokyo, by people who don’t fully understand the impact of those decisions. He sees a major lack of communication between the decision-makers and the people in Tohoku and he wants to try to help. Today he had a meeting with Ishinomaki City Government and I drove along with him as he was interested in hearing about my ideas — he is quite Western in his ways so it was nice to be able to communicate some of my ideas without worrying too much about offending him! (I am so aware of potentially upsetting my wonderful hosts in Ohara that I rarely speak as directly as I am thinking ….. for now anyway!)

One of the topics we discussed was the housing situation — this was the concern that Seiji and I had shared when we first met in May 2011 and I know that we are both a little frustrated to see what appears to be relatively little progress in that area. I also know that many of the people in the temporary housing units feel that they are simply waiting for someone to tell them what their future will be, where they will live, and what they can do with their land. I learned quite a bit …..

During any one year, Japan has the capacity for a maximum of 800,000 new builds — and 5% of them are in Tohoku. So under normal circumstances, Tohoku has the resources for building 40,000 new homes. Those resources include things like carpenters, electricians, construction workers, and materials. According to data released on February 1^st, over one million houses need attention in Tohoku — 150,000 were completely wiped out, 250,000 were half destroyed and are now uninhabitable, and 600,000 were partly damaged. If all of those 400,000 homes that have been lost are rebuilt, and assuming that Japan is even capable of doubling their house-building efforts, it will take ten years to create permanent homes.

He says the government’s handling of everything surrounding March 11th is a mess. 19 trillion yen has been allocated as restoration budget, but that was determined in July when the full extent of the disaster and recovery needs weren’t even close to being known.

Mr Ohnishi believes that this disaster is an opportunity for Japan to change in many ways — to change how information is shared, to change how budgets are divided, and to change the direction in which Japan is heading. He believes that, in the past, most Japanese people have not had the courage to say when something is not right, but that this disaster may have brought about people that are ready for change; people who are no longer willing to “shut up.”

I see people, in this area, who may not be quite ready to stand up yet, but are ready for someone like Mr Ohnishi to help them find the way to get there. It is proven by the outcome of his meeting. He went to the City Office to find out what the plans are for Ohara, and found out, to the surprise of everyone, that the new law forbidding anyone to build on tsunami-hit land, has not yet come into place for Ohara. This is huge news to share when we return to Ohara — at last people can feel like they have some control over their own destiny. The new law will come into place in Ohara, but for now there is a small window where people can build on their own land if they wish.

The decision now may be whether this tiny community moves as a whole to higher ground, and if so, Mr Ohnishi urges them to identify a place quickly and be one of the first communities to pave the way in determining a new future. If they do so, then another decision needs to be made — how to utilize the old land in a way that retains the beauty of this village and perhaps can bring more people to this very special place. And it is this area of discussion that Mr Ohnishi is very interested in talking to me about — he already knows that I’ve fallen in love with Oshika, and that I would like to create a base here that makes it easy for people from the UK or other parts of Japan to visit. So we walk just around the corner from Ohara centre to a piece of land looking out on the amazing sunsets. The land is slightly raised and doesn’t belong to anyone who was affected by the tsunami, and it’s got a big “For Sale” sign on it.

Sasaki-san has invited me to her home for a sleepover tonight. I pop in on her every few days to say hi, drop off some things she might like, and have a chat. Today she happily showed off the shoes and fingerless gloves she was wearing; I gave them to her on a previous visit. Today I was dropping off a big box of cat food as she feeds all the stray cats in the area. She was really appreciative.

They are two of the few people I know who don’t live in a temporary housing community — these are the people I always wanted to focus on helping even when I came to Oshika for the first time in May last year. But it’s hard to find them and easier to connect with the people in the temporary houses. The Sasakis lost part of their home in the earthquake and tsunami, but most of the damage came from the typhoon that soon followed. They live in the area that used to be their garage, but Robert Mangold built them a little room behind it, along with a bathroom. I am really grateful to Robert for introducing me to them.

Because they are always so upbeat it is hard to imagine that they have been through anything more awful than losing part of their home (as if that isn’t awful enough). But today Mrs Sasaki told me what actually happened to them on the day of tsunami. Mr Sasaki was out at sea, and knew the tsunami would come so headed further out, as many of the fishermen did. He returned two days later to find the town destroyed. Mrs Sasaki was with her mother-in-law, in a little house closer to the sea front. Her mother-in-law was in bed sleeping when the earthquake happened, and Mrs Sasaki knew they had to get to high ground, as a tsunami would soon follow. She picked up her mother-in-law and tried to carry her but she couldn’t get out of the house. She kicked a window hard so they could escape but there wasn’t enough time. The tsunami hit and Mrs Sasaki couldn’t hold on to her mother-in-law. She was completely submerged in the water herself, and when the water subsided she saw her mother-in-law lying on the ground. She checked for a pulse but she was dead. Then another swell hit and took the elder woman out to sea — her body has still not been found. The fact that her body has not been found is of great concern to the Sasaki family.

Mrs Sasaki says that it is important to talk about these things because otherwise they stay in your heart. I agree. She is the second person I have met who tells me she has been on medication since the tsunami. She says can talk to some of her friends but mostly she talks to the “heart care” volunteers who pop in on her, and also to Robert, and to me.

I know that such dreadful things have happened but it is quite different listening to someone you know tell you right there in front of you; someone who has welcomed you into their home, and seems to consider you a friend. Someone who gives you a massive hug every time you say hello and goodbye — someone who, as I’ve always believed about people who come into our lives, feels like they have become a little part of you.

I do hole up in my room and have a little cry in private when I get back to Ohara.

But I am looking forward to our sleepover tonight. Sasaki-san has a beautiful big smile and great sense of humour, as does her husband. He always says that I am a bad girl because of all the naughty things I talk about with them but they both like it and I enjoy making them laugh. When I bring things for them he always jokes about me bringing him a new wife one day, so Mrs Sasaki says she wants a new husband — but he has to be tall. And he can’t be bald.

Tomorrow I get to spend the money raised by Bratton Fleming Primary School in North Devon, Northowram Primary School in Yorkshire, and Notre Dame in Plymouth. I’ve been here two weeks with money from these schools as well as other schools and also individuals, and I have been looking out for the right kind of projects to financially support. To be honest, it’s been a bit of a challenge. Seiji and I had hoped to support the rehousing of people here but, as I’ve written about before, there are all sorts of issues that make the real rehousing very complicated. I doubt very much that people will have real homes again for many years, unless, like Kameyama-san, they take matters into their own hands. I don’t feel it’s right to have the money these people have kindly raised to be sitting around for years waiting for everybody to be rehoused.

There are a few projects that require funding in this area, such as the Ibuki Project. I’ll write more about this in a future blog entry, but just briefly — the Ibuki Project is the restoration of the ancestral home of Mr Azumi, a Tokyo-based politician, for the purpose of creating a restaurant that the local people can be involved with in some way. I think this is a great project but, judging by the speed at which things move here, it will take forever and I’m looking for a project that can be completed while I am actually here, and where the schools or individuals who have donated money can feel that what they gave made a real difference as opposed to being piled into a general pot.

That’s where Saito-san came in. Saito-san is the father of the only children left in Ohara. There is a big problem here in that there are very few young people, and rather too many single men (it is a common joke here when we talk about what I can bring from Tokyo to help Oshika — they often laugh and say “single women”). Saito-san’s children really are the future of this tiny town, and I’ve enjoyed watching him as he spends his evenings or weekends with them. The girls run about with their cute but slightly neurotic dog, and are always ready with big smiles and waves when they see me. His wife is from Thailand and came to live here with her husband ten years ago — she is interested in the fact that I drove all the way from Tokyo by myself and says she wishes she had the courage to do the same. I think she is the youngest woman in the Ohara temporary housing community.

Saito-san is an oyster and wakame fisherman. When the tsunami came he was out at sea. The boat’s propeller got caught up in rope and he was stuck in the ocean until other fishermen came to rescue him. His boat wasn’t damaged at all but everything else he needed to be able to work was washed away — including the couple of million yen that all the fishermen keep hidden in their homes, and use for paying the various casual workers that are essential to their industry. Saito-san, along with many other fishermen, has not been able to work since the tsunami, partly because his equipment has gone but also partly because the sea was so dirty after the tsunami.

But now the sea is clear — I cannot believe how clear the water is here and can only imagine how beautiful it is during the summer. Seiji has a radiation detection machine on its way so the food and soil can be monitored, and people are hopeful that this area, famous for its fishing, is about to reach a turning point.

Every day Saito-san watches the sea and knows that the time is coming when he should be out there, at work again. The government has helped the fishermen a little by supplementing the purchase of rope, and volunteers collected thousands of the special oyster buoys (some were found in the mountains!), which is a big help because they cost ¥15,000 each. The special shells that are used to collect oysters were also washed away or damaged, but again, volunteers have recovered some.

Saito-san has an income because the government pays him to do the “community” work, as it does for all the fishermen who can no longer work. But he doesn’t like this — he doesn’t want to receive money from the government and says it is not good for the soul. He wants to earn a living properly again, and is desperate to get back to being a fisherman. March 5^th marks the beginning of wakame harvesting season. He planted the wakame in October and November of last year but still doesn’t know how he’s going to harvest it. It is less than a month away.

The one thing Saito-san needs is a special water pump that cleans and cools the wakame after it has been harvested and boiled. Then he is ready to go. And it turns out that this pump can be shared with the other Ohara fishermen, and not only with them, but also with the Ohara farmers who need the very same pump to get water from the river to their storage tanks.

I feel that this is the perfect way to financially, practically, and emotionally support these fishermen and farmers who are so keen to get back to work and be independent again. Thanks to the generosity of the people of Bratton Fleming, Northowram, and Notre Dame; Saito-san and I will drive to the mainland tomorrow to get the pump, and this will hopefully not only lift the fishermen’s and farmers’ spirits, but also the spirits of those around them.

Including the two little girls of Ohara.

Like so many people, Kameyama-san lost everything on March 11^th. He now lives in a tiny temporary housing unit, with his wife, son, and daughter — his daughter separated from her husband after the earthquake because she had to live in a temporary housing unit with her father-in-law while her husband went away for six months. Divorce is rather taboo here (I have been playfully slapped a few times when explaining my own personal situation) but that isn’t the reason that, not long after the earthquake, Kameyama-san’s neighbours thought he was strange.

It’s because he decided to build his own house.

He is the only person on the peninsula who decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally. Everybody in Tohoku who lost their entire homes has received ¥2 million from the government, intended to be used toward their new homes. But most people who lost their homes are not allowed to rebuild on the land they own — you cannot build anything for sleeping in on any place where the tsunami reached. So even if ¥2 million would be enough to build a home similar to one they had before, they don’t have a place to build on. People are waiting for the government to give permission to build on land on higher ground, but right now that’s mostly covered in trees and prone to landslides. Flat spaces need to be identified or created, and all of this takes time.

Some hope that the government or an enterprising individual will buy their land from them to give them a bit more money to work with (I’ve been told it’s going at about ¥5,000 per three square metres) but there isn’t much hope of that to be honest. The homes or land belonging to people who died in the tsunami have been inherited by their children, most of whom live in the nearby cities of Sendai or Ishinomaki, and they’ve just handed the homes or land to the government to avoid inheritance tax.

So people live in their tiny temporary residences, relieved that they now have shelter and something to call a home, but with no clear sense of what the next step will be for them. Without a job, anything to do, or much exercise (Takako-sensei said just walking around her ancestral home and garden was often exercise enough in her life before the tsunami).

Except Kameyama-san, who in October had enough of sitting around his temporary home and decided to build his own. He owned a bit of farmland that the tsunami hadn’t quite reached and planned to build a house on it. He had never done any carpentry before and happily admits that he had no idea what he was doing (and says he still doesn’t). On the first day, his neighbours from the temporary housing units all lined up against the fence watching and laughing, saying he would never be able to do it.

But he has. He collected scrap from the debris (and is careful to explain that he hasn’t stolen anything but got permission to use every piece) and constructed his own home, entirely by himself. He has used some of the money from the government to buy items he couldn’t find in the debris, but is very carefully trying to make the whole home without going over the ¥2 million. He doesn’t want any help because he says that any carpenter that sets foot in the place will say it’s a disaster and suggest he tear it all down. But he knows he needs to hire an electrician and a plumber at some point because he has no idea how to install electricity and plumbing in his new home. The only thing he is a bit worried about is having enough money for the bathroom.

He can’t do any work at the moment because the wood that he found for the next stage of the roof has to dry out after the snow — he says that this weather makes for very slow progress. He explains how he stripped the tatami he found to make new mats, and I am amazed at how perfectly it all fits together. He is a little reluctant to tell me the kinds of things that might help him in his efforts to make a home but soon he is saying how he would love a heater-stove, Japanese floor cushions, and a kotatsu, so I add that to my call for donations and hope some kind people will send them up to me.

To my utter embarrassment I get tearful when, after I ask him how old he is, he says 72. (I feel my eyes sting on a daily basis on Oshika but never let any tears flow — they have no place here.) But the thought of a 72-year-old man building his own home from scratch is difficult to process. He waves away my disbelief at how active he is at his age and says, “If you keep thinking you are young, you will never get old.”

東北での1ヶ月:カメヤマさんの家(2月3日)

カメヤマさんも、3月11日に全てを失った方々の1人です。彼は今、奥さん、息子さん、娘さんと一緒に小さな仮設住宅の同じエリアに住んでいます。ー彼の娘さんは、今、旦那さんが震災後から6ヶ月間の出張中なので、(旦那さんとは)離れて暮らしていて、義父さんと一緒に住まなければいけないという状態です。日本では別居はタブーですが(私は自分の状況を考えるとこんなことは言えた口ではないのですが)、近所の方々がカメヤマさんを奇妙な目で見ているのは、これが理由ではありません。

その本当の理由は、彼が自分で家を建て直すと言っていることです。

彼はこの半島で唯一、家を建て直す ということを決めました。家をすべて失った東北の人は、新しく家を建て直すための費用として政府から200万円を支給されています。しかし実際は、家を失った人たちは彼らの土地に家を建て直すことを許可されていません。ー津波が来る場所には、住む場所を建てられないことになっているのです。つまり、200万という金額が新しい家を建てるのに十分であったとしても、彼らには家を建てる場所がないのです。とはいっても、今現在、その場所は木に覆われていたり土砂崩れにあっているのですが。そのため平らな土地を探し、作っていかないといけませんが、それには時間が必要です。

政府や民間の企業が、彼らから土地を買い取って、そのお金を生活資金にしたいと思っている人もいます 。(私が聞いたところによると、1平方メートル5000円くらいの価値なのだそうです)しかし、実際はそんなに期待できないようです。津波で亡くなった方々が所有していた家や土地は、仙台や石巻に住む彼らの子どもたちに受け継がれますが、相続税を理由に、彼らのほとんどはその土地を政府に引き渡してしまうのです。

なので、人々は仕切りで区切り、呼び鈴のついた小さな仮設区域に住んでいて、この先どうしていくかについては現実的な考えに及んでいません。仕事もないし、かといって他にすることもなく、運動も足りていません。(タカコ先生も、津波が来る前は、代々受け継いできた家の回りや庭を歩いたりするのが生活の中でいい運動になっていたとおっしゃっていました)カメヤマさんを除いては。

彼は、仮設住宅でじっと考え、自分の家を建てようと10月に決意したのです。彼には津波の被害があまりなかった農地が少しだけあるので、そこに新しい家を建てようとしています。彼は今まで、大工作業をしたことは1度もないので、何をしたらいいか分かりませんが(いまだに分かっていないと言っていました)それを楽観的にとらえています。作業の初日、仮設住宅で彼の近所に住んでいる人は、彼には絶対無理だと言ってフェンスのところに並んで、笑いながらその様子を見ていたといいます。

しかし、彼は建設作業を進めています。瓦礫の中から使えそうなものを探してきて、一人で家を建てるのです。(彼は物を勝手に持ってきているのではなく、そ の全てに関してしっかり使用許可を得ています)家を建てるために必要で、瓦礫の中から探せ出せなかったものについては政府から支給されたお金で買っていますが、家の建設費が200万円を超えないように慎重に選んでいます。

その場所に足を踏み入れた大工さんが、そんなんじゃダメだとか、諦めたほうが言いということが分かっているので、彼は誰の手も借りたいと思っていません。しかし、その彼も電気工事や配管に関してはどうしたらいいのか全く分からないので専門の人にお願いしなければいけないと思っています。また、彼の唯一の心配事は、お風呂を作るお金が足りるかどうかです。

彼は今、作業を中断しています。なぜなら、次の段階は屋根作りなのですが、雪で濡れた屋 根用の木材を乾かさなければならないからです。ー彼は、天気のせいで作業が進まないと言っていました。彼は新しいマットを作るための畳のはがし方を説明してくれました。その全てが利にかなったやり方だったので、私は本当に感心してしまいました。

彼は、私に家を作るのに必要なものについてなかなか話してくれませんでした。しかし、まもなく、ストーブや座布団、そしてこたつが”あったらいいな”、という感じで話してくれました。私は 寄付を募るものを連絡する際にそれらを加え、誰か親切な人が送ってくれることを願っています。

自分が情けなくて仕方ないのですが、彼に年齢を聞いて72歳だと答えが帰って来たとき、あまりにお歳をめされているのに驚き、私は泣き出しそうになっていました。(私は牡鹿半島で常に、今にも泣き出しそうな状態になっていますーしかし、ここには私なんかが涙を流す場所はありません)しかし、72歳の方が瓦礫の中からものを探してきて家を建てるのは、とても大変なことだと思っています。しかし、その歳を感じさせない彼の行動力と、”自分が若いと思っていれば、歳なんてとらないんだ”という言葉で、私のそんな考えは吹き飛ばされてしまいました。

I’ve been here over a week now, and I receive lots of emails from people curious about how I am personally managing here, so today I’m going to let you know (any gentlemen who are squeamish about girl stuff just ignore today’s blog!). Let me just make it very clear that I am not whinging at all, and I am fully aware of the hardships people have had to deal with here — if they were still dealing with the same kinds of difficulties I’m sure I wouldn’t find my own situation quite so amusing.

I came here fully prepared to not shower for a month — I wasn’t sure what access local people had to personal hygiene facilities so wasn’t about to wander off for a luxurious shower or bath every time I felt like it. As it is, all the temporary housing units have showers and baths, and there is a public bath on top of one of the mountains. And the community centre where I am sleeping has a shower unit. You’d think there would be no excuse for me not to be clean every day.

But it’s bloody freezing so I don’t want my icy fingers going anywhere near my own body!

Already I have started to think that if I don’t absolutely need a shower then not to bother. I went from Saturday until yesterday (Wednesday) without one. So I wake up, stick the little gas heater on (I can’t sleep with it on because I am worried about gassing myself), and psych myself up for taking my clothes off in a room where I can see my own breath. Or not taking them off as the case may be. Yesterday I was Skyping Mr W as I was getting up (the time difference makes it difficult to talk so we grab the moments we can) but was too cold to put a different set of clothes on so honestly just got the baby wipes out and “cleansed” myself without taking one item of clothing off, all the while chatting away to Mr W as if nothing was happening. He thought my new morning washing style was hilarious — you know it’s love when he stills fancies you like mad even after seeing that, don’t you?!

The fishermen took me to Sendai last Friday — three or four times a year they all go off for a trip to the onsen but this was the first time since the earthquake. I tried to tell them that I wasn’t here for a holiday but they insisted I went with them, and Hiroyuki told me that it would make them all really happy if I did. So I joined them and went into the onsen twice but hadn’t had a shower or bath since … until yesterday when Hiroyuki and I went to the public bath. Honestly I have never appreciated undressing, bathing, and dressing in a warm room as much as I appreciated it last night.

I got my period on my first day here but had come prepared — my jacket’s inside pocket was full of tampons and disposal bags for four days although there wasn’t anywhere appropriate to dispose of such items so I just had to deal with it all in as discreet a way as possible when surrounded by old fishermen!

And as for the clothes — I am one of the worst people for feeling the cold (anyone who’s shared a bed with me will say my feet are constantly like blocks of ice) so I knew I’d have to wear lots of layers. I’ve got my underwear on, then a pair of tights, a vest top, thermal leggings (they belong to Mr W so always make me smile and think of him when I put them on), a thermal top, a normal top, jeans, thick socks, and my trusty blue fleece. On top of that goes my down jacket, a thick scarf, my woolly hat, and a pair of gloves (sometimes two). I brought bright pink fluffy pajamas with me, more for the purpose of making people laugh a bit than anything else (and it worked — everybody is learning to sing that Coming Round the Mountain song … “She’ll be wearing pink pajamas when she comes”). The only parts of me that are cold are the tips of my fingers and my toes, upon which I have four massive chilblains that would impress anyone. I used to get them twenty years ago until somebody told me if you weed on your feet they went away (it works, by the way) but I don’t think it would be appropriate to do it here.

Not that inappropriate behaviour is something that I’m avoiding, as proved by what I’ve done with my laundry.

I travelled light so at some point knew I’d have to do some washing, but instead of throwing everything in the laundry bag whenever I like as I’d usually do, it’s got to fail the sniff test first. I found a little washing machine round the side of the community centre and threw in the clothes that required attention — no separating anything — then turned on the machine and added some hot water from the kettle too. It works for about six minutes then you rinse everything and stick it in the spinner. I remember my grandmother using something like it when I was a child. Hiroyuki told me to hang my clothes up in my room but I was brought up never to do that and think that clothes need to blow about in the wind outside. So I found a couple of places where rope is hanging outside and proceeded to hang my clothes out.

Hiroyuki started freaking out at me hanging up my underwear, saying that Japanese people never hang their underwear outside, but Kucho-san laughed and asked me to make a beautiful display to cheer everyone up. Hiroyuki’s not local and Kucho-san’s the boss so I do as the latter says and pretty soon my bright pink and leopard print knickers are hanging outside the community centre for everyone to giggle at. The bus comes along and the driver gawps, and Kucho-san says he is pleased because all the local teachers are meeting at Ohara Elementary School today, and everybody will feel happy. At dinner that night, everyone is talking about who has seen the English girl’s underwear and who hasn’t, and whether they should all treat it like a shrine and pray to it, in the hope that love will come to Ohara.

I am so happy that my knickers have made everyone laugh so much.

I won’t be with my darling Mr W this Valentine’s Day but that doesn’t mean I won’t be full of love! I’ve decided to spread some love around Oshika-hanto by delivering Valentine chocolates to the men, women, and children of the peninsula. So I’m collecting chocolates, sweets, or little gifts with hearts on them between now and February 12th, which I will deliver on Valentine’s Day. If you’d like to bring a smile to someone’s face then please send a bit of love to:

Caroline Pover
c/o Honbucho Ishimori Koichi-sama
Miyagi-ken
Ishinomaki-shi
Oharahama Azamachi 16
Oharahama Seikatsu Centre
Oharahamachiku Saigai Taisaku Honbu
986-2412

Many thanks!