Yesterday’s English roast dinner Japanese-style went even better than I had imagined — somehow I found a way to make my favourite Sunday roast dishes without the use of an oven. And a lovely person in Tokyo sent up some stuffing which was a first for everyone. The vegetables I could get were potatoes, carrots, cabbage, peas, broccoli, and onions. I usually roast each of them in their own sauces but instead had three gas rings to work with — the carrots were steamed in fresh mikan juice and ginger; the cabbage was stir fried with bacon, onion, and peas; the onions were sliced and marinated overnight in olive oil and balsamic vinegar then sautéed instead of being roasted whole; the “roast” potatoes were boiled then sautéed in oil and lots of salt and pepper (these were the highlight of the meal for everyone — 8kg of potatoes were consumed!), and the steamed broccoli was covered in cheese sauce and breadcrumbs then finished off with a blowtorch in lieu of a grill!

I fried lemon-marinated chicken breasts and salt-and-pepper-covered steak then sliced the meat into thin pieces. I made gravy with all the vegetable stock and meat juices (with loads of red wine and an OXO cube that someone sent up from Tokyo) and I showed people how we pour the gravy over everything, although actually I quite enjoyed watching people dip their vegetables and meat in the “sauce” Japanese-style. Everything had to be chopstick-friendly, as I haven’t come across a knife and fork for the entire time I’ve been here!

And to go with everything were four boxes of real English beer that the Hobgoblin very kindly sent up — they went down a treat! So did the trifle with half a bottle of rum in it — I warned everyone that there was loads of alcohol in it so most of the old women stayed away but I spotted Takako-sensei sneaking a bowl to take home with her, which really made me laugh.

The kitchen was the kind of chaos that I love. Anybody’s who’s seen me in action in a kitchen knows that I like to use every single pan I can get my hands on and then just pile everything up in the sink — I didn’t expect anyone to clear up after me but two of the Ohara boys cleaned everything as I went along, including the three pans I burned. It took me at least an hour to work out how to control the power of these gas rings. And at the end of the evening I was surprised to find five old ladies cleaning the entire kitchen (including the floor) to a level of which even my OCD boyfriend would be proud.

Saito-san’s youngest daughter, Haruka, was fascinated by what English food looked like so she spent much of the time hanging out with me in the kitchen, tasting everything and taking photos. I think Abe-san and Takako-sensei took pity on me when they saw I was doing everything by myself because before I knew it they were right in the middle of it all and somehow knew exactly what I wanted doing with everything — they were absolutely brilliant.

Loads of people started turning up — people I swear I had never met before but word had got around that everyone from Ohara was welcome. I’d had no idea how many people would show up and worried in case nobody came but in total there were about 40 people. The Ohara boys couldn’t believe how many people were there — I don’t think they had quite understood what I had been doing on Oshika when I wasn’t with them but last night they did. Utsumi-sensei who runs the temporary preschool that I visit every few days was there, along with her daughter and granddaughter, and some children from the school. Kameyama-san came along, as did the Sudas who run the gas station, and the Sasakis of course. Then there were the Ohara boys, and people I didn’t know well but to whom I had given either Valentine’s chocolates or some clothing or other donated items.

Takahashi-san kept saying over and over again that he had been surprised when he walked in to find so many people he didn’t know. He said he just loved the fact that people from different parts of the peninsula were all brought together, and how great it was that they could share ideas and experiences. It made me so happy to know that they were all having a wonderful time getting to know each other, and I stayed in the kitchen with Abe-san for most of the time, cooking one thing after another as Haruka and her friends took the dishes out. I had to go out and tell everyone not to wait but to start eating, and that we would do a kanpai later.

When it came to the kanpai, one of the little girls from the temporary preschool came forward to give me a homemade envelope filled with messages from the children who couldn’t make the evening. I opened the first one and started blubbing so thought I’d better put the rest away for later. Then Abe-san asked me to say a few words.

It was hard to know what on earth to say about my month here — there is so much to say, and I feel so grateful for this incredible experience. I have been welcomed into people’s homes and lives, and they have allowed me to help them in whatever small ways I could. I have had the opportunity to convey the love and care that so many people in other parts of Japan, and indeed the world, have for the people of Tohoku, and I hope I did them proud with the ways in which I chose convey that love and care.

What I hadn’t expected though, was to have gained quite so much for myself personally while being here and to now have such incredible memories — I have used a chainsaw, driven a digger, cut down bamboo, been out on a fishing boat, opened oysters fresh from the sea, spoken Japanese almost exclusively for a month, washed car windows in a gas station, gone without washing myself for four days, hung my underwear out for all to see, munched fish bones with the best of them, and jogged over broken roads and alongside wild deer. I have seen the most beautiful sunsets in my life, and spent time with beautiful people. It would have taken forever to explain my feelings about my time on Oshika, so instead (with the help of Hanako’s translation) I kept my words simple …

“I came here for a month because I wanted to help and give you something, but instead, I think you gave me so much more.”

Bratton Fleming Primary School, Northowram Primary School, and Notre Dame RC School, all UK-based schools, paid for the first project. The Ohara fishermen needed a special kind of water pump to be able to start this season’s wakame fishing, commencing next month. The water pump can be shared by several fishermen and also by the local farmers, so it was nice to be able to buy something that a group of people can use, and just in time for the season to start. Saito-san drove Abe-san and me into Ishinomaki to a special store where you can get all sorts of equipment for fishing — they took ages searching for exactly what they needed, which I was pleased about; I wanted them to take their time and not feel rushed or pressured at all. They found exactly what they needed, checked with me about the price, which was within my budget, and we headed off to pay. Saito-san then invited me out on his boat with them as soon as the weather was good, which I was absolutely thrilled about, so a few days later six of us got into a tiny four-seater boat with an engine that kept dying (I thought surely he doesn’t do any fishing on this thing and wondered whether I should have bought an engine instead) and was relieved to find out that this was just to get us to his actual fishing boat, which was much more impressive! I stayed out of the way on the boat as there were ropes everywhere and the side of the boat was so low it was easy to see how someone could fall overboard. I was happy watching how they attached new buoys to the oyster ropes, posing in the lovely bright blue fishing outfit they gave me to match theirs, and just being out on the ocean. They actually harvested some oysters then and there, which was a treat to watch — the rope was attached to a pulley and the oysters dragged into some kind of device, which then detached the oysters from the rope, landing with loud crashes into the baskets waiting below. I kept thinking about what an amazing sight this would be for the children who raised the money for the fishermen.

The second project was paid for by a combination of individuals and organizations — Iwao Nishiumi, Minoru Iketani, Eri Sato, Emily Downey, Natsuko Lobo, Naoko Fukai, Ken Fujioka, Jacinta Hin, Marcus Yeung, Stephen Gill, Tracey Thredgold, Ashley Thredgold, Max Thredgold, Sam Woodgate, Rika Meynell, Sainsbury’s Leamington Spa Staff, and King Henry VIII’s Sixth Form all paid for walls that the Sasakis needed for their wakame processing facility. The walls were delivered on Friday, just a couple of minutes before I popped over to say hi to them. They were thrilled. Mr Sasaki was talking to the delivery guys outside while I went inside with Mrs Sasaki. She showed me the invoice and apologized because it was a little higher than they had thought (¥170,000 instead of ¥140,000) but I had ¥150,000 for them so gave them that — she was very touched and visibly moved. We all had a coffee together and I started making a move to leave. We tried to work whether I could find a couple of hours on my last day here (Monday) where I can help hammer in a few nails with Mr Sasaki, but in the meantime we had a huge hug. Suddenly Mrs Sasaki started sobbing — really big sobs that broke my heart and actually still bring me to tears thinking about it. Her husband stroked her arm to comfort her and she apologized for being so emotional but by that time I was crying myself so we ended up having a laugh together, although I had to pull over once I’d driven off but was out of their eyesight. It was truly lovely to be able to help them and I hope that one day, all of those people who paid for those walls, get the chance to give Mrs Sasaki a hug too.

The third project was paid for by Yuriko Miyazaki and Andrew Robinson, and by another individual in memory of Joan M Dwyer. This was for my new hero, 72-year-old Kameyama-san, the only person on Oshika who is building his own house. He has worked so hard, all by himself, to the ridicule of so many others, and has built a lovely home for his family without knowing a thing about carpentry. He is such an inspiration and I think people like him deserve a break. The first time I visited him he was a bit withdrawn and reluctant to tell me what he needed but eventually told me a few practical things. I subsequently visited him a few times, each time bringing him something different — some clothes I thought he would like, a stove heater I knew he needed, my toolbox from Tokyo, some chocolates on Valentine’s Day. Now he doesn’t stop chatting to me, although I swear he’s not speaking Japanese because I don’t understand anything he says, but he laughs non-stop and that makes me laugh so somehow we manage to have fun together. He drove me to a recycle shop in Ishinomaki the day before yesterday, so we could kit out his kitchen — we got the biggest fridge I have ever seen (and it was worth it just to see his smile), a gas range, a microwave, a sink and cupboard unit, a kotatsu, and a small home shrine. It came to ¥85,000 and I had budgeted ¥100,000 so I gave him the remaining ¥15,000 to pay for an electrician/plumber to help him set it all up. The recycle shop staff loaded up the back of Kameyama-san’s truck, and held everything down by ropes. They redid everything when I told them we would be driving on Oshika, which has lots of windy roads and hills, but I wasn’t convinced that the massive fridge would still be upright by the time we got there (if it made the journey back at all). Kameyama-san’s driving didn’t help things — he actually went right through a red light with traffic coming from every direction and me shouting “aka aka aka,” which made him laugh even more so we ended up just laughing together the whole way back. Watching Kameyama-san and his friend unload everything, put it in a wheelbarrow, push it down a hill, over a tiny bridge, and down another hill (this time covered in mud) to the house was a sight I will never forget. We all agreed that the fridge wouldn’t make it so I came back the next day with strongmen Seiji and Hiroyuki, except it had snowed in the night so now the fridge had to make that journey but in the snow — watching these four men carrying the fridge all the way to the house was hilarious. I love the way that Kameyama-san finds fun and laughter in everything he does, and it was such an honour to be a part of it.

So thank you again to everyone who was part of these projects, and thank you to the people who sent petrol money. I still have about ¥350,000 coming from the UK to allocate, and will be back again in May to look at more projects, but was very happy to be able to find projects for the money I brought here with me on this trip. As well as the lovely friends I’ve made here, I’ve made a lot of contacts who now know the kinds of projects I’m looking to support — something that can make a real difference to someone’s home or work, costs a relatively small amount of money, can be completed quickly, and that I can see firsthand and be able to convey back to the people who paid for it. I think it is so important to let people know what happens to the money they have donated, and I hope that my blog has kept people informed. I have made plaques with the donors’ names on them (here are the first two and the third is on its way), and they are being placed on the water pump, the Sasakis’ walls, and in Kameyama-san’s kitchen — you can rest assured that your kindness will never be forgotten. I truly hope that during my time here, you have grown as fond of the Ohara fishermen, the Sasakis, and Kameyama-san, as I have.

The first time was quite unexpectedly, yesterday, when I was out delivering Valentine’s gifts to everyone. I saw a couple huddled around a fire just up a little hill and ran up to them with my basket. I immediately recognized the woman as someone I had met when I came here for the first time in May. I had thought of this woman literally every day since then and couldn’t believe that I had come across her again.

One of the reasons I felt a little lost when I first arrived here on this trip was that almost everything had been cleared, including what was left of people’s homes, and the people who were living in them had also disappeared. Three weeks ago I looked at the wasteland and wondered what on earth I could do to help. I had naively thought that some of the people that were etched in my memory might still be in the same places. There were two women in particular that I had secretly hoped to find again and to see for my own eyes that they were doing OK, and I have carried that secret hope of coming across them with me the whole time I have been here.

When Andrew Abbey and I had come here in May we had found this lady and her adult daughter just off the road, living under a big plastic sheet attached to half of their home, surrounded by debris. The daughter was totally bored so went right for a box of children’s toys and games, pulling out a Winnie the Pooh book, saying she was thrilled to hear that it came from England because she had always wanted to have an English boyfriend. I told that story and showed a photo of her with that book, alongside her mother, in every single school I visited in the UK. That very same photo is on the homepage of my website.

The daughter had been extremely cheerful in May but I remember the mother being expressionless and clearly in shock and exhausted. They both stayed in my mind for different reasons. I cannot explain what it felt like yesterday to come across the mother, proud to tell me that her daughter has a job in Ishinomaki, lives in a temporary home, and that they are both doing just fine. I also can’t explain how it felt to give her something not because she needed it this time but because it would make her smile. And she truly did smile. I invited her and her daughter to my “English food party” next Sunday and I really hope they come. I then tried to explain to her that I had thought about her and her daughter every day since May but suddenly realized I was going to burst into tears so instead rushed off waving goodbye and kept the tears for the car.

At the end of my day delivering Valentine’s goodies I decided to get some red wine and abandon my self-imposed January/February alcohol ban (I do this occasionally when I know I’ll need to sleep really well, have a lot of energy, be mentally alert, and prepared for a lot of activity). Mr W and I love our red wine nights in so I thought I’d like to have a drink with/for/to him on Valentine’s evening. So I popped over to the combini to see what they had — only one kind, no choice, and less than a thousand yen. My kind of wine shopping! Onodera-san (one of the Ohara boys) was there, and as I took the wine to the counter to pay he grabbed it off me and insisted on paying. Of course I said he wasn’t to, but he said that I had given presents to everyone on Oshika that day so he was giving me a present. So I insisted he came back and drank it with Hiroyuki and I.

At some point in the evening Onodera-san’s wife came up in conversation — Hiroyuki knows about my strokes and it turns out that Mrs Onodera had two brain haemorrhages when she was 43, one of which left her blind. I can’t imagine how terrified she must have been during the earthquake and tsunami. Mr Onodera told the story of how he was at the port working in a wakame processing factory when the earthquake happened. He immediately headed back home to his wife because he knew that a tsunami would come. He found all the furniture had fallen down so moved it all out of the way to find his wife. He found her on her knees, gripping on to either side of the kotatsu, with her head tilted downwards. She was in such a state of shock that he had to say her name five times until she responded, and finally he managed to lift her up and guide her up the mountain just in time before the tsunami hit their home.

Mr Onodera then talked a little about how he had cared for his wife since she went blind — he never goes out in the evening unless one of his children are there. Throughout the evening Mr Onodera kept rearranging my jeans that were drying next to the fire, and said that he was an expert because he does all the laundry at home (bear in mind that this is an extremely traditional community where gender roles are very old-fashioned, although the women here seem tougher than any women I’ve met before in Japan, and the men seem nothing but respectful toward and about their wives). He talked about how much he takes care of his wife.

Hiroyuki then talked about when his wife was in a car accident and subsequently in a wheelchair for two years. He talked about how much he took care of her during that time and we all talked about how you take care of each other, and what love is, and what marriage means — actually a lovely topic of conversation on Valentine’s Day! Although Mr Onodera and Hiroyuki weren’t to know but taking care of a sick spouse is a bit of a sensitive topic for me — unfortunately my ex-husband didn’t do very well in the care-taking department when I had my strokes, and he’s the first one to admit it. It’s not that he’s a bad person at all but he just doesn’t know how to take care of other people, and I know that when I think back on that period when I was so seriously ill, I still feel really upset about the lack of support. I’ve forgiven him otherwise we couldn’t be friends, but it is still very painful to look back on.

So I was feeling a little sensitive when Onodera-san started talking about how he loves taking care of his wife, and it wasn’t because of any sense of obligation or duty. Instead he said very simply, “She is my wife. I love her. She is my heart.” Pretty soon all three of us were crying.

As Onodera-san said goodnight he hugged and hugged me, and had tears in his eyes again as he said, “This has been the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.