The people of Ohara, along with other people who happened to be in the area on March 11^th, spent the month immediately after the earthquake living in Ohara Elementary School. There were 200 people there, without electricity or water, although in true Oshika style, people smile as they tell you the stories of what that month crammed together was like: “Very friendly!” describes Onodera-san’s son, Kuni, as he puts his arms around imaginary people. Takahashi-san and Yachan still laugh about how they had to carry water from the school swimming pool so they could use the toilets.

They searched through the piles and piles of rubble to salvage what items would be needed for their living quarters — including, of course, futons. Whatever was in decent condition was salvaged from the debris, dried out, and used in the primary school. In a town of what was only 150 people before the earthquake, there weren’t enough futons for everyone but somehow they managed.

They started off as 200 people; one month later they were 100. Living in those conditions was just too much for many. Those that remained decided that they would leave the school after that month to try to give the local children as normal an experience as they could and get them back to school. People returned to what was left of their homes, or went to stay with friends or family in other parts of Japan. Temporary housing was to take another four months.

The futons, after being rescued from the debris and slept on by 200 people, were then stored in the community centre, and used by people who came to help with the recovery effort. Thousands and thousands of people from all over the world, who brought vital supplies and helped clear away the rubble during the first year, slept in the centre and on these futons.

And during the past two years, some very special individuals have come to rely upon the centre as a sleeping place and have become a real part of the community.

A talented photographer, Konishi-san, has been travelling up regularly — at first he rescued and repaired the tsunami-damaged photographs so people could have their wedding and graduation photos back. He also took beautiful photographs of the stunning scenery and made them into postcards that you can buy at the centre for a small donation to the shrine’s repair fund.

Then there is Kaneishi-san, who dedicates much of his time to helping the Ishinomaki area as well as the Oshika peninsula. He is still, two years on, clearing debris from beaches and isolated coastal areas, often completely by himself. I am totally in awe of this very gentle soul.

And of course there is Seiji, who has a base in Ishinomaki now but sometimes the important conversations that happen at the end of a long day just aren’t the kind to drive away from, and his work in the area is vital. I met him when I first visited Oshika and he is a big reason why I was inspired to return.

These are all people who are the complete opposite of the kind of volunteers that I mentioned in my previous blog entry — people who work harder than anyone I know, have specific skills that are very much needed, are always ready with a smile, and don’t care about where they eat or sleep. They have become a very real part of a community in recovery.

When I asked Kucho-san to tell me what Ohara needed, and he told me futons for the community centre, I am ashamed to say that I didn’t take this particular need very seriously. A bus stop? Yes, I understood the need for that. But futons? Yes I knew the futons were really tatty — I sleep on them when I am there too. They smell, they are ripped, they are covered in stains, and I discovered halfway through my last trip that the futon I was sleeping on was actually mouldy. So I know, firsthand, what a state they are in. But I also know that I really don’t care about sleeping on them, and I know that Konishi-san, Kaneishi-san, and Seiji don’t care either. I couldn’t see how the local people, who I’m always trying to put first, would benefit from their community centre having new futons, and, at the end of my last trip when the futons were brought up again, I said as much (sensitively) to Kucho-san and his wife.

What I didn’t realize, was that the former residents of Ohara also use these futons when they visit, and then suddenly the need for new ones made more sense to me. I could understand that these shabby futons with such a sad history would absolutely not be the kind of thing that the current residents would want their old friends to sleep on. I don’t want them sleeping on them either! These are friends they are hoping will return permanently to Ohara one day. They want them to see how the town is progressing, how they are getting back on their feet, how things of beauty are returning to a place that holds such terribly ugly memories for so many. I have seen the impact little gestures have here and I have seen how news travels fast — I could suddenly imagine how people would be excited to tell their old friends about the lovely new futons awaiting them in the community centre.

As I’ve said before, the biggest lesson I learned on this trip was to listen to the local people, and not to impose any of my own judgments or opinions. I hadn’t quite got there at the beginning of the trip but by the end of the two months, it was all very simple to me — you tell me what you need and I will do my very best to make that happen. No judgements. And my opinion on what you say you need, doesn’t really matter. It’s not about me.

So I set about researching futon sets, and in doing so, have discovered another story, which I am sure will make anyone who has ever been sceptical about donating money, feel that this is a great way to support the area.

Ginny, a likeminded and very lovely lady I have become close to through Oshika, and Masae, from the wonderful INJM, have introduced me to Murakami-san. Murakami-san ran Minato Futon Shop in Ishinomaki for 53 years. The shop was also his home. The entire building was destroyed by the tsunami. Murakami-san lost many of his neighbours and friends, and spent his days after the tsunami removing bodies from the rice fields. Soon after, he helped turn the local school into a shelter for those who had lost their homes. As with many towns in Tohoku, it is people like Murakami-san who have emerged as real heroes in the midst of dealing with their own trauma.

Murakami-san decided to set up his business again, in the exact same place it stood for over fifty years, despite there being absolutely nothing around it. He now runs his business out of a small prefab, working with a factory that survived the tsunami the other side of Ishinomaki. All business that comes his way directly supports the local area.

Murakami-san now lives in temporary housing. He is one of only two people in Ishinomaki with the highest qualification a futon-maker in Japan can possibly get. I can’t think of anyone more perfect to provide the futons needed for this project.

So, if you’re interested in being part of this, please let me know. Your sponsorship will help:

• respond to a need that local people have identified and requested help with (helping them feel listened to)
• replace things that are associated with sad and traumatic memories (helping them take another step towards their future)
• provide items that will bring a sense of pride back to a town (helping them create positive associations)
• encourage former residents to spend more time in the town (helping them rebuild their town together)
• support an individual as he rebuilds his business (helping him rebuild his life)

Futon sets include a mattress, a duvet quilt, a sheet, and a pillow and each set will have a badge sewn on it, with the sponsor’s name embroidered on it. As I mentioned before, the total sponsorship fee is ¥26,000 (that’s about $250 or about £170), which is paid directly to the futon-maker. You can sponsor in your own name, your child’s name, your pet’s name(!), in memory of a loved one, or in your company/group/school’s name. Please get in touch!

Despite having always had such a strong belief that we have a responsibility to help others if we can, I was seeing a lot of “volunteering in Tohoku” that was making me uncomfortable.

However, at the same time, I was developing a much stronger sense of what kind of person makes a good volunteer.

I’ve been wanting to … well … spell it out to people — explain to them about the kind of attitude you need to come to Oshika with — but in doing so it would mean explaining what kind of attitude you absolutely don’t come to Oshika with, and I wasn’t so keen to do that. But after being part of an email exchange a few weeks ago where I was giving advice to one poor woman who was trying to deal with a teacher who insisted on bringing her students to Tohoku to “help” yet expected to be fed, put up, and driven around everywhere; and then having read this excellent article recently (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-22294205), I decided that I would indeed, spell it out.

So, here’s my entirely personal opinion on what makes a good volunteer in Tohoku, what makes a bad one, and why. My words may sound harsh in places, and may offend some, but if you are truly interested in volunteering because you care about the local people’s needs above your own needs, you won’t be offended. My comments that follow apply to foreign and Japanese volunteers alike, although I have to say that I have met very few foreign volunteers and most of my experience has been with Japanese volunteers.

Good volunteers know why they are there

To people who say they want to go to Tohoku, I ask why. Often the answer is that they want to help. Again, why? Most people can’t actually answer beyond that and think it strange that you would question why they want to help. You might get some answers like “It’s the right thing to do,” or “I want to make the world a better place,” but in my opinion, there is only one answer to this question, and that answer is “Because I have skills that are needed.”

In order to respond in that way you need to have a good understanding of what is actually needed, which is why educating yourself beforehand is vital. Read blogs written by people who have actually spent a decent amount of time in the area you want to go to and doing the work you want to do — and I don’t mean they’ve gone there for a weekend but read about people who have lives in the area or are close to the local people. You also need to have a good understanding of your own strengths and weaknesses, and have a clear knowledge of what your own skills are — are you a carpenter? Good at DIY? Good at any kind of physical labour? Are you quick with your hands? Are you able to live in an entirely Japanese-speaking environment (and that isn’t the same as being able to speak Japanese)? Can you stand for hours on end in the cold/wind without complaining? Are you always ready with a smile, no matter what? These are all skills, too!

If you don’t have specific skills that you know are needed in the area you want to volunteer in, then you will end up feeling like and also actually being a burden to the very people you want to help. If you know you have those skills, you’re needed — get going!

Good volunteers are healthy

This sounds pretty obvious, doesn’t it — you wouldn’t go there unless you were physically or mentally fit, right? You’d be surprised.

If you’re not feeling 100% before you set off volunteering then postpone your activities until you are. I have seen university students spend entire days of their two-day visit sleeping in the communal room of the centre where I sleep, because they’ve got a bit of a sniffle and it’s too cold outside for them. If you’re the kind of person for whom some extra layers and a few paracetamol can’t keep you going for a day, then don’t volunteer.

Of course people get sick, and that is when you have to think about who is ultimately responsible for your wellbeing and how you being sick might affect them. I have seen on more than one occasion, people refuse to go to the doctor despite how much the local people responsible for them insist. The sick person might think they are being a burden if they have to go to the doctor, but they are creating much more stress staying there being sick and not allowing people to help — I cannot begin to explain how cross I was when I found Mrs Sasaki passed out on the floor with her heart pills in one hand — the stress of trying to deal with a 19-year-old girl having a suspected asthma attack yet refusing to go to hospital was too much for her. People on Oshika are very good at smiling and laughing but it is a highly sensitive environment — you are there to make their lives easier not worse. If you are told to go to the doctor, you go.

If you’ve got any kind of physical ailment that will affect your ability to work then, I’m sorry, but I don’t think Oshika is the place for you. All of the recovery efforts require physical strength and the ability to do certain kinds of manual work — it’s not hard labour or anything but you do need to be physically strong and able. And on the subject of being able, a physically disabled person would really struggle on Oshika — I understand that I may offend some for being an able-bodied person talking about what a disabled person can and cannot do but, I can tell you that it would be very, very difficult for a disabled person to volunteer on Oshika.

As for being mentally fit, that is just as necessary. Don’t bring your own emotional issues with you, and don’t go around feeling sorry for all the locals and the emotional issues you assume they have. Keep your dramas and your tears to yourself; if you have a big smile and a big laugh make sure you bring those! They are always needed and always welcomed.

Good volunteers get themselves around

If you don’t have your own car, find out about the transportation options in your area before going. On Oshika, it is impossible to get around the peninsula without a car or motorbike. You can get the buses but then you are restricted to the timetable and that might not suit the people who you are volunteering for. There are a few bicycles lying around outside the centre where I stay, so anyone visiting Ohara would be OK, but you probably couldn’t cycle around the whole peninsula. Please don’t ask anyone to give you lifts — more than once I have seen someone visit the area for a weekend and expect to be driven to and from Ishinomaki, as well as to and from the hot baths, and anywhere else she wants to go. I think it’s incredibly rude.

So bring your own vehicle or hire one so you can be completely independent and not burden anyone. If you have a car, you will be able to help locals who need lifts, do shopping for them, and even carry needed items around to the different villages — a really good way to help!

Good volunteers eat anything

Or at least they give the impression that they will eat anything! If you’re going to be eating anything provided by local people then please don’t be an inconvenience by telling them what you can and can’t eat. If you have a restricted diet for health, religious, or moral reasons then please think about how that might affect the people you are trying to help. Either don’t come, or if you do, eat whatever you can, leave what you can’t, and try not to draw attention to the fact if at all possible. I made a promise to myself when I first went to Oshika that I would eat anything put in front of me and not ask what it was. Not that I was expecting anyone to put food in front of me, you understand, which is another point to bear in mind — please don’t expect other people to feed you. It drives me nuts when I see volunteers turn up and expect local people to put on loads of food for them. Find out what local shops there are before you go and buy what you need from there. You’ll likely have to abandon any food restrictions or diets you might be on. You could bring your own food but I think it’s better to buy locally and put the money back into the local economy, and also I don’t really think the idea of doing things differently than local people do is really in the right spirit.

If you do bring your own food, please think very carefully about what you plan on doing with anything you don’t need before you return. There is a workers union from Kobe that sometimes visits Ohara — there are about 30 members and they bring all their own food and allocate about four of them to do all the cooking as well as the volunteer activities. They stay for two nights and then go back to Kobe. I was shocked to see them throw away the curry they had made and weren’t going to eat — there was enough for at least 20 portions and the whole lot went in the trash. Surely a better way to make use of surplus food would have been to portion it all up into separate bento boxes (of which there are plenty in the community centre kitchen, where they stay) with rice (again, a massive sackful is always sitting around in the kitchen) and then hand deliver them to the temporary housing units with a big smile? I would have done it myself if I’d known before it was too late. It’s not that people need food there at all, but being kind and thoughtful is always needed, and to waste food especially somewhere like this is, to me, shocking.

But really, I think that good volunteers don’t think too much about food — I see these big groups of people visiting the area to volunteer yet they seem unable to do it without sitting around with a massive breakfast, lunch, and dinner rather than eating on the go or even just stopping where you are working and eating a bento you grabbed from the combini earlier. If you’re only there for a couple of days then surely you can find something better to do with your time than sitting around eating extensive meals with your friends?

If you’ll eat pretty much anything and can eat on the go, then I think this will help make you a good volunteer.

Good volunteers think about where they’ll be sleeping

You’ve probably worked out by now that what good volunteers are always aware of, is whether they might be being a burden in any way, to the people they want to help. And this includes sleeping arrangements. When I first went to Oshika for an extended period of time, I specifically bought a vehicle that I’d be able to sleep in — a little Toyota jeep was perfect. I already knew that Kucho-san had given permission for me to sleep in the community centre but I didn’t know what might happen — a month was a long time and I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. So I wanted to have an alternative in case it was needed — as it turns out it wasn’t.

But that awareness of where you’re sleeping and how you sleeping there affects others is important. There are very few places for volunteers to sleep and often you might end up sleeping somewhere where there are a lot of other volunteers you won’t necessarily know. Good volunteers are not only aware of how their behaviour affects the local people but also aware of how their behaviour might affect other non-locals. Staying up late and being noisy affects other people — I know INJM has a quiet policy after 10pm and a strict lights-out policy after midnight. One of the most upsetting experiences for me was when I had to speak to a bunch of university students and ask them to be quiet over and over again — I had already pointed out to them that I’d come from the UK to be there, that I was there for two months and not going back to a comfy bed for a long time, that I had an extremely busy day the next day, but nothing seemed to work. A lot of Japanese volunteers think I am in my twenties, so I pointed out to this bunch, very strongly, that I was 41 years old and needed my sleep. Total shock, followed by total silence for the rest of the night. My first experience of the power that playing the age card has in Japan!

Seriously though, don’t assume you are the only volunteers in your area and be respectful of others you might be sharing a sleeping space with, regardless of anybody’s age.

Good volunteers use their time well

And good volunteers see meaning in every little activity. Oshika is an incredibly beautiful place, with very special people, and I think this creates a unique energy in this area. It is impossible not to learn skills and sensitivities there that city living and modern life have stripped away from us. I don’t think I’ve ever worked anywhere where I feel that every single day is so meaningful.

I feel that good volunteers can connect with the beauty of this area — they can see the beauty amid the wasteland, and they can see the laughter and love amid the sadness. And, as volunteers, I believe we are privileged to be able to spend time in these special communities and to be able to help as people put their lives, homes, and communities back together. For that reason, I think it is vital that we use our time well there.

If you look around you, you will always be able to see ways of helping — good volunteers don’t always wait to be told what to do. Water some plants, sweep the leaves away from the road, give the kitchen a good clean, give someone a lift to the combini, ask someone if they need anything in Ishinomaki before driving off there yourself. There are countless tiny, thoughtful, and helpful jobs to do.

Don’t sit around when other people are working — I saw a group of university students sitting around having finished doing wakame really early, so I told them I had some space in my car if anyone fancied joining me to do some painting. The response? “We’re going to the onsen in Ishinomaki.” That response made me so sad — not for Takahashi-san, whose building I was painting at the time, but actually for the students themselves who would rather have fun with their friends. If they wanted to take away special memories then I can’t think of a much better one than helping to paint hearts on an old widower’s building, rather than partying with the friends they came up with.

But unfortunately, a lot of the volunteers I have seen spend about as much time eating, drinking, and partying, as they do working. I had to physically remove drunk adult men from the kitchen when I was preparing the English brunch. I’ve seen people hungover and sleeping in the communal space until 6pm the following Sunday after a heavy Saturday night, and I’ve been woken by people who’ve travelled very far to volunteer so arrive at 2am but then start drinking. I do not understand any of this.

Now, like most people, I like to have a bit of a blow-out now and again. In the two months I stayed on this recent trip I had a very entertaining evening drinking with Onodera-san, and another with (a different) Takahashi-san and Yachan. Both times I was in their homes with them, and not bothering anyone else. I brought my own drink and had already eaten. I might have been just a teeny bit slower than normal the next day but it didn’t negatively impact any of the work I was doing there to help during the two months. In fact, I’d say that some of the conversations that were had on both nights possibly helped it. But for the time I stay on Oshika, I actually live there. I work every single day and I never take a day off. So I don’t understand why people who volunteer for such a short space of time want to spend half of it doing something so meaningless.

Being a tourist instead of a volunteer

If you’re not sure whether you meet the criteria of a good volunteer, then please don’t call yourself a volunteer. Still go to Tohoku, by all means, but why not go as a tourist? You don’t have to visit the area as a volunteer if you want to help. You could do a little bit of wakame or any other kind of work that could be arranged for you, but you can party and relax as much as you like. You can satisfy that natural curiosity that I think a lot of people have, and perhaps you can get a little bit of understanding about the area. And if you’re staying in a hotel then you will be actually contributing to the local economy and you won’t be bothering other people who are actually volunteering. Nor will you be a burden or an inconvenience to the local people — in fact, they will love that you want to go sightseeing in such a beautiful place that has suffered so much.

So what happened to the British woman who asked to join me on Oshika volunteering for a week? Well, when I picked Sophie up in the darkness — the lone passenger on the Ayukawa bus — I had a feeling that she would work out fine. Anyone who didn’t emerge traumatized by the journey and being dropped off in the middle of nowhere had some balls, and would probably be fine here! And work out fine she did. She got herself around the peninsula using an old bike she found by the community centre. She spoke very little Japanese but just got on with things and didn’t let it bother her, and developed a really lovely friendship with the 84-year-old woman with whom she did wakame every day. Once she finished her wakame work she’d often find me and get stuck in with whatever I was doing — a short-arse like me who doesn’t like ladders couldn’t have painted the top of Takahashi-san’s building without her, and I’d probably still be cooking the English brunch now if it weren’t for her help. She gave herself enough private time to process some of the emotions that are inevitable in this environment, without imposing her own emotions on anyone else. And she took care of me too, actually, and became a really lovely friend who I kind of miss, even away from Oshika.

Sophie’s one week volunteering on Oshika turned into four. She was a pleasure to have around and I was happy for her to stay. She, quite simply, got it. And didn’t want to nor did she burden anyone at all. It was only in the last few days that I discovered that she was, in fact, a vegetarian.

“But I’ve seen you eat meat when we’ve been invited to people’s homes!” I said.

“It’s my choice to be a vegetarian, not their’s. If people are feeding me, I don’t see why my choices should inconvenience them.”

Now, THAT, in my opinion, is a good volunteer.

It is surprising that Dana and I had never met before — she was a big supporter of Being A Broad, in which Furla Yoga advertised for a long time. Dana herself was even featured on the cover. But it took last month’s talk for us finally to get the opportunity to meet, at the end of which we exchanged big hugs.

In the Oshika section of my talk, I had focused on the bus stop, but also touched on other kinds of support that is especially useful at this stage of the recovery, and just a few hours after the event I received a lovely message from Dana, saying that they would like to make a donation towards the shrines on Oshika. The yoga studio had held a fundraising event on March 16^th, and was yet to decide where to allocate the ¥50,000 they had raised. As Dana said,

We thought it would be nice to contribute to the restoration of the shrines. As yoga is essentially a spiritual practice, we’d like to help restore a place for the people of Oshika to find deep inner peace in times of turmoil.

There is also a more personal reason for the Furla Yoga team to be especially interested in supporting the Oshika peninsula. One of their key members of staff lived in Sendai when she first came to Japan and considers Tohoku to be her home:

Oshika hanto holds a very special place in my heart as my husband and I had so many happy times camping there, together and with friends. I lost two dear friends to the tsunami, and I know how wonderful the people up there are; they are just regular people, but they have huge hearts. I reconnected with many of them during the funeral for my friends, and their courage and optimism was incredible. I am glad that you are working up there to bring some beauty back to their lives.

Furla Yoga has decided that their fundraising efforts will continue! And have set themselves a goal of ¥100,000, to be raised by the end of this year. The yoga studio will be holding a series of classes specifically to raise money, and you can find out about these classes by checking their website at https://yoga.furla.co.jp. Please support them in their efforts to support Oshika.

But as the weeks went on, it became clear that those long two months were needed in order to get so much done. This trip was so much more productive than previous trips for a number of reasons, partly to do with how the local people there now see me and partly to do with how I see myself. From my point of view my confidence in my Japanese ability has increased, and my worrying about upsetting people has decreased. When you don’t speak a language fluently you listen. A lot! You listen with your ears but you also listen with your heart. And I have spent so much time listening and concentrating on what local people are saying and feeling that I now think I have a much better understanding of Oshika than I had on previous trips. I know they are happy for me to be there, and they are happy with the things I do to try to help. So I worry a lot less and trust my instincts a lot more.

From the local people’s point of view, they know me now, and they trust me. They like the things that I do and they let me get on with them. They know I can’t be there all year round, but when I am there, I am part of their lives.

So because of this much deeper relationship I now have with individuals as well as with communities, it was possible to get a lot done on this trip:

The playground
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/04/the-thomas-keble-playground-in-ohara/
Building the Thomas Keble Playground in Ohara was the main thing I wanted to achieve on this trip, and together with some of the local guys, we not only built the playground that was sponsored by this Gloucestershire school, but also created a beautiful play space, complete with outdoor toys and a toy box, a cherry blossom tree, bushes, flowers, a romantic corner for grown-ups, a repaired giant ice-cream made out of fibre-glass, and a repaired panda complete with smile. All surrounded by a lovely matching fence.

English brunch
I like to cook for everyone on the last Sunday of my stays on Oshika, and this time I thought I would make an English brunch. It’s fun to tell people about English food, and to show people how to cook certain things the way I do. It is my way of thanking everyone for welcoming me into their homes but most importantly, these meals are a lovely way to bring together people from all over the peninsula, from the different villages, who would otherwise not interact. This time about 60 people came and went over a six-hour period, and enjoyed bacon, sausages (YUMMY sausages from Mark Spencer!), beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, fried bread, potatoes, and lots and lots of poached eggs. All served up with Bucks Fizz and proper English tea.

Valentine’s chocolates delivery
As with last year, I spent Valentine’s Day delivering chocolates throughout the peninsula. People had sent boxes and boxes of chocolates from other parts of Japan; all ready for me to unpack and organize when I arrived on February 10^th. I arranged them all in a basket lined with red velvety fabric, and spend seven hours driving around the peninsula, delivering them to temporary housing units, schools, community centres, shops, and offices, as well as to random people on the streets.

Cherry blossom planting
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/03/cherry-blossoms-for-ohara/
An unexpected addition to my jobs on this trip was the collection and digging up of 50 free cherry blossom trees that I, along with a couple of the local guys, drove back to Ohara. They are now planted in a temporary location in the village, until the permanent living areas have been finalized.

Outfits for the fishing men and women
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/04/an-update-on-the-pink-ladies/
This trip saw the purchase and distribution of an additional 19 outfits for the fishing men and women of the peninsula, bringing the total now to 41.

Koamikura festival & shrine repair
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/03/the-koamikura-matsuri/
The steps to the Koamikura shrine, inaccessible since the earthquake, was repaired thanks to money raised by the Ohana International School communities, and the people of the town were able to visit their shrine for the first time in two years. The shrine roof and walls are also being repaired thanks to this kind-hearted community. Not only that, but 50 of the people from Ohana, the British School in Tokyo, and Miyabi Arashi taiko group took the long journey up to Oshika and joined the Koamikura community for their first festival since the earthquake, with the taiko group giving an incredible performance. This is just the beginning of an ongoing relationship supporting the town as they get back on their feet.

The free shop
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/02/donating-clothes-to-tohoku/
I ran a free shop for the entire two months, in a container building next to the combini near Kobuchi. The shop started off with items that were left over after a clothes swap I held in Tokyo the day before driving to Oshika, and throughout the two months I put out calls for more items to be sent, depending on what was popular, and what people asked for. Hundreds, if not thousands, of items were given away for free.

Knitting club
I started two knitting clubs in Ohara — one in the evening for the women who worked and one in the morning for the women who didn’t. But in fact the morning one often went on all day as these marathon knitters carried on through lunch and even got the karaoke out. A few men joined the morning group — not to knit, but just to hang out with us because we were having so much fun!

Ohara bus stop
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/04/the-summerhill-bus-stop-in-ohara/
This was another unexpected project added to my list of jobs, after I had given a talk to the mums at Summerhill International School in Tokyo just before heading up to Oshika. They raised money to pay for a new bus stop in Ohara, which was built by a group of Saitama carpenters, who joined us on Oshika. We built it in three days, two of which were under tarpaulin because of the typhoon. But what a bus stop it turned out to be!

Disneyland trip & Tokyo homestay
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/04/tokyo-homestay-disneyland-trip-for-oshika-families/
I took 26 mums and children on a bus from Oshika to Tokyo, where they stayed with lovely host families for two nights, and spent a day at Disneyland.

Oshika Junior High School uniforms
http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/04/oshika-junior-high-school-uniforms-from-kspace/
Kspace International School in Tokyo raised enough money to pay for school uniforms and book vouchers for all of the incoming students at the only junior high school on the peninsula — I saw the children and their parents on the day they got fitted for their uniforms, and I also got to go along to the entrance ceremony and see them all wearing their uniforms. And already, a generous individual has pledged a million yen towards next year’s uniforms.

[In addition to all that, money generated by and for these projects, as well as my previous and some upcoming projects, has now hit almost ¥8 million (that's almost US$85,000 or nearly UK£56,000).]

These eleven projects would not have been possible to complete so quickly and simultaneously had I not been on Oshika for those two months. And as I work on getting those projects done, I am constantly thinking about what I can do to make people smile, spread some love, and make the place just a little bit better than it was when I first arrived. I have learned that I am good at doing this — I say that without arrogance but I’m not going to talk with any false modesty either. I know my efforts make a difference.

A very big reason why I am good at doing this is because of all the love that comes my way. My husband is incredibly supportive of what I do there, despite how much he misses me, and I feel extremely loved — that helps me on a personal level. And the lovely messages I get from my nieces and stepdaughter also help — getting my first “I love you” from Little Miss W at the end of my last trip was amazing.

I feel lots of love coming my way from the people who live on Oshika as well — I get lots of hugs, have a second home at Onodera-san’s, and know that everyone’s doors are always open to me.

But the love I get from all the people who want to help Oshika or support my activities is overwhelming. Often this love comes from complete strangers. And it kind of feels like I am channelling all that love onto Oshika — it truly gives me the ability to make all these things happen.

So thank you to everyone who sent Oshika so much love during those two months — thank you to those who sent letters and emails. Thank you for reading my blog and following my Facebook updates. Thank you to those who sent or raised money. Thank you for sending clothes and other items for the shop. Thank you for hosting families in your homes. Thank you to those who came and saw Oshika for themselves! Thank you for sending food for the brunch, toys for the playground, chocolates for Valentine’s, wool for the knitting clubs, and even medicine when I had a cold.

Thank you all so very, very much for keeping the special people of Oshika in your hearts.

However, there are some items that I know I will always be able to find homes for and if YOU want to, you can collect them between now and my next trip. These items include the following:

• Wellie boots
• Granny pants
• Incontinence pants
• Slippers
• Heat-tech items
• Thermal underwear
• Crocs
• Lightweight waterproof jacket/windbreaker/cagoule thing

Claire Blandford, who runs Kids Talk Children’s English School, has decided that she is going to be the wellie lady! And has taken it upon herself to collect brand new wellies from her friends and school community. And another friend, Elise Mori, has decided to be the granny pants lady!

So if you’d like to help, you can choose one of the items on the list to collect yourself. You can reach out to your own network, or post to me on Facebook, which I can then share. And then you can send them to me on Oshika during my next trip, which should be in the autumn. Let me know if you’re interested! Email caroline@carolinepover.com

But the fishing industry is so much more than just boats — there are generators, power cleaners, forklift trucks, and lots and lots of equipment used in the ports. What is also essential to the fishing industry are the “kappa,” or special heavy duty PVC overalls that are worn by everyone involved, on the boats and also on land. Of course, all of these items were washed away by or damaged in the tsunami.

Replacing such equipment and clothing is a wonderful way to support the recovery effort. I have seen firsthand what a difference has been made by the donation of a generator to the Ohara fishing community from Bratton Fleming Primary School, Northowram Primary School, and Notre Dame RC School; and the water pump to the Yagawa fishing community from Amity Yokohama, Microscooters Japan, Bratton Fleming Primary School, and Bolham Community Primary School. I have also seen what an impact the kappa gifts have made to people in the fishing industry throughout the peninsula.

The first kappa were donated to a group of (mostly) women working in the fishing industry — they had got together to try to encourage the revival of the industry in their towns, and I raised money through the various women’s communities in Tokyo, in order to purchase 23 BRIGHT PINK(!) outfits. The kappa were a huge hit, and every time I return to Oshika, I put feelers out for any other women who might be in need of joining the Pink Ladies!

On my last trip, I put a call out for more sponsors for kappa, and this time for men as well as women working in the industry, and raised money for 19 more outfits, with thanks to Rick Weisburd, Katt Kano, Robin Maynard, Waseda International School, Allan Murphy (in the name of Louise Murphy), Patricia Nyiri, Kit Nagamura, Angela Jeffs, Sun & Moon Yoga, Microscooters Japan, John Whetsel, Moko Igarashi, Maria Godebski (in the name of Mathew & Marian Godebski), Sarah Mulvey, Miyuki Kurihara, Jay Ponazecki, Kit Stock, and Alison Pockett. A great big thank you goes to you all!

The total kappa that have now been donated is 41. There will always be a need for these outfits as the work takes place in very tough conditions. I think they are a really lovely way to support the area, as well as making people smile. They cost ¥20,000 and I always put the name of the sponsor (or the name of your loved one) on the kappa. If you’d like to sponsor an outfit during my next trip, please get in touch! caroline@carolinepover.com.

Here are some of the outfits sponsored on my most recent trip:

When I first met the former Principal, Takahashi-sensei, last summer, and asked him what they needed, he had been very firm about the school itself not needing anything, but told me that the parents really did need help. Their biggest worry was providing school uniforms when their children entered junior high school; each uniform “set” (including sportswear and textbooks) costs ¥65,000 and the parents were considering taking out loans in order to buy the necessary items. With almost 90% of the families having lost their jobs, and 60% living in temporary housing, you can understand why this extra expense would be a huge source of stress.

It would be easy to respond by suggesting secondhand clothes, finding a cheaper supplier, or even to abandon uniforms completely for a while, and in fact I did receive a few suggestions like this when I wrote about the uniforms last year. But I’ve learned that if you truly want to help, you have to do it with a completely open heart and mind. You have to leave your own opinions and judgements behind and help in the way that the local people — the ones you say you are there to help — tell you they need. Helping shouldn’t be about you and your own needs or opinions.

And as I saw the whole process involved in these school uniforms I understood why they had to be brand new, why they had to be from this specific supplier, and why everything had to be the same as it always was. Because in the middle of a world where nothing is normal anymore, as a parent, wouldn’t you want this one day, that the entire family probably looked forward to since the day the child was born, to be as normal as possible? You’d want your child to look just the same as all the other children; you’d want them to participate in the very important rituals associated with entering a junior high school in Japan in the same way that you did yourself. You’d want to see your child walk down the centre of that huge school hall in their new uniform, and maybe you’d need that day for your own healing as much as for your child’s.

And the healing started a couple of months before the actual entrance ceremony, when all the incoming students and their parents gather together in the new school, to be fitted for those uniforms. I happened to stop by the school on the day this was happening, and was invited to join the families. It was very special to be allowed to be a little part of this special day, and to chat to the mums. In the weeks that followed I often bumped into them on the peninsula, and got to know their other kids too. I was frequently thanked for helping them with various project on the peninsula, including the school uniforms, and when eating in the temporary shopping street in Ayukawa I was once handed a note that made me cry over my ramen.

The actual entrance ceremony was lovely — it was such a treat to watch all the children walk into the hall, wearing new uniforms that were just a little bit too big for them — plenty of room for growing during the next three years! After the ceremony I was invited to their classroom along with the parents, where their new teachers introduced themselves. Kspace had raised some extra money, which, at Takahashi-sensei’s suggestion, Kspace’s Juliet and I had decided that I would purchase “tosho cards” (book vouchers) for each of the incoming students as a little gift. I presented each of the students with the book vouchers and there was a great fuss made of the one student who thanked me in English.

I loved that the parents were not only part of the ceremony but also part of this time spent together in the new classroom. There was a very special family atmosphere, and it felt so different to my first day at senior school. There was a lot of love in the room.

There was even more love in the room when the teacher showed a video from the children and teachers at Kspace, introducing the school, and personally wishing everyone good luck. It’s a wonderful video, which has me in tears every time I watch it. To everyone at Kspace — a very big thank you for everything you did. Your kindness not only helped solve a very practical problem, but you helped create new special memories and also told an entire community of people that they were very much in your hearts. Two years on. Thank you.

NOTE: Just before the entrance ceremony I started thinking about next year’s incoming students — until everyone has jobs and homes, practical and emotional support is still very much needed. The same day I started thinking about it I had a Skype conversation with an individual, who wanted to know more about what I was doing in Tohoku. After explaining the various projects I’ve been doing, he decided that he would donate a million yen to cover the cost of the uniforms for the incoming students for 2014. This is absolutely wonderful news — parents no longer need to spend the next twelve months worrying about how they are going to pay for the uniforms. Next year’s intake is 20, and the total cost will be ¥1.3 million. If you think you would like to help the new junior high school students on Oshika by raising the remaining ¥300,000 OR sponsoring an individual child for ¥65,000 please let me know. Email caroline@carolinepover.com.

I’d eventually decided to order the playset from ToysRUs. The set was delivered in the autumn of last year, and when the invoice arrived, I realized that ToysRUs only charged me for the shipping of the playset, and actually donated the playset itself, which was incredibly kind of them and freed up some funds to support the creation of the playground as a whole. As with the bus stop, I had a very clear image in my mind, of a beautiful play space and not just the playset itself. This meant that the Thomas Keble money could pay for the whole space to be created.

During my previous trip a container had been placed next to the playground area, inside of which the local fishermen stored their equipment. These containers are really useful and you see them throughout the peninsula. Some have been converted into small businesses — the ramen shop and the barber’s are both set up in these container units. They’re very practical but not at all pleasant to look at. I’m not really very artistic but I knew I wanted the container next to the playground to look beautiful — I imagined it to be covered in bright smiling faces and started wondering how I might be able to do that. So it really made me smile when I got there and discovered that a kind and creative soul had done exactly that! A good sign, I thought.

Actually quite a few containers on the peninsula have been adorned with bright and colourful artwork — Peaceboat sponsors an artist to decorate the containers, mostly with images of the sea, boats, or fish. They do add an unusual element to the landscape on Oshika, and definitely brighten up the otherwise dull and barren inland scenery.

As soon as we had some decent weather, Kucho-san, Onodera-san, and I set to work on building the playset. As the set had come from Australia the instructions were all in English, so I was designated to be “toriyo,” which I worked out means something like “foreman/supervisor.” I love building things like this — I love following the instructions, seeing all the pieces come together, and using drills and hammers. I found it very amusing that Kucho-san and Onodera-san just wanted to guess what fitted where yet couldn’t picture what the playset was supposed to look like, whereas I obsessively stuck to the instructions. I learned a lot of new interesting words as we put it together!

I also learned a lot about how the “nihon no toriyo” (I was “igirisu no toriyo”) liked to work — he was supervising the construction of the “dashi house” next to the playground. This building was to store the wooden float he had made for the February festival, to bring good luck and success to the fishermen. At 10am on the dot he insisted everybody stopped and had a break. At midday he did the same and sent everyone off for lunch. They would be back at 1pm on the dot, and he also stopped everyone for a break at 3pm. If I wanted to carry on working just a few minutes into the breaks then he would start grumbling and I’d later be asked whether people took breaks in England. So I stopped whenever he wanted to and learned to rest now and again — something that doesn’t come very naturally to me!

I’ve also learned a lot from him by just watching how he works. I didn’t work with him on the playground but I worked with him on a previous trip, when I built a stage with him. I saw how he works with the wood — he doesn’t measure everything and then cut it but he cuts it roughly, puts it together, and then cuts off edges so it fits perfectly together. There is a real beauty and creativity with it — it’s like he is working with all the lumps and bumps of the ground and creating something in harmony with its environment.

But of course, the playset was already cut and ready to be fitted together. The wood smelled absolutely beautiful — it was lovely to work with and to watch it all come together. Every day the kids would run down the hill from the elementary school and wait for their buses, always curious about what we were doing, and as soon as part of the playset was actually in the playground they started to throw themselves all over it. In the UK there would have been a huge health and safety issue, but there is quite a different attitude to things like that on Oshika, where common sense prevails. So we continued building around them. And actually, it was lovely to build it like that and every day I looked forward to when the kids would come tearing down the hill, throw their bags on the floor, and themselves all over the playground as it was being created around them.

Once the playset was made, it was time to think about the other elements of the playground; the elements that would make it a beautiful space. We planted one of the cherry blossoms (http://www.carolinepover.info/2013/03/cherry-blossoms-for-ohara/) that Kucho-san, Yukio-san, and I dug up from Tochigi a week earlier. We had dug up the cherry blossoms on March 2^nd, which is Mr W’s birthday, and I wanted to plant one in the playground as his birthday present. I also bought and planted bushes around the playground — they had to be special kinds of bushes that would cope with the harsh conditions, and they couldn’t have flowers because the deer would eat them. My friend Hajime Saito found the right kind of plants for Oshika. But I did want some flowers so I repainted the flower boxes and bought lots of yellow and white flowers to go in them. Kucho-san made some covers to go over them at night and protect them from the deer, and the flowers really did look beautiful.

I wanted to incorporate two things that had been damaged during the tsunami. Firstly the panda — he was battered and scratched, and had a few holes in his side. He had lost a couple of the concrete bases that used to be attached to his feet, and he’d also lost his nose, along with his smile. So I repaired the holes, and set to work repainting him, giving him a lovely new smile again. My other attempt at repairing something that had been damaged was the ice cream. This giant ice-cream was carried by the tsunami from another town and landed at Ohara — it had been very badly damaged and had huge holes in the side but it had become something that always made people laugh — they thought it was funny that it had been carried to Ohara. So I wanted to keep it. With some help from Sophie, I patched it up using aluminium (I cut up beer cans), duct tape, and then some kind of cement stuff, and gave it a couple of coats of paint. It’s not perfect, but it’s not bad at all. I placed it near the “love-love bench.”

I made the love-love bench from an ordinary bench I found. It was looking a bit tired but I felt it should be included in the playground and be something for the grown-ups to enjoy. So I gave it some new stain, painted a couple of hearts on the bases, and placed it facing out to the sunset along with a little “table” — on most nights this is the best place to see the sun go down. The Ohara sunsets are beautiful. It has already become a bit of a thing in Ohara where couples are supposed to snuggle up next to each other on the bench and watch the sun set. I love how much everyone giggles about this.

Next the playground needed a fence — I visited Homac and found some fencing that was a similar colour to the wood used in the playset, and Yukio-san and I placed the fencing all around the playground area. The fencing really did finish everything off beautifully. Then I made a large toy box to go in the playground — there was enough money to buy some outdoor toys but I wanted them to be stored in the playground themselves. I felt confident enough to have a go at making a toy box all by myself so, using some of the tricks I had learned by observing Ohara’s grumpy carpenter I did it! Sophie and I went shopping at the nearest Toys R Us, and bought roller-skates, pogo sticks, hoops, and all sorts of other outdoor toys and games. It was nice to be able to give a little back to the company that had helped make the playground happen. And Microscooters Japan very kindly offered to send up some scooters to go in the toy box too!

Kucho-san and I had planned to open the playground on the day of my English brunch party, on the Sunday before I was due to return to Tokyo. Unfortunately a typhoon arrived so we opened the playground on the following day, when the children had finished school. I had come across an ice-cream machine in the combini and asked to borrow it. I’d ordered 100 post of ice-cream and cones, and each child, and lots of teachers, stood around enjoying their ice-cream before we stood around the toy box, which by this time had a huge red ribbon on it. They pulled the ribbon and opened the lid of the box and were amazed to see everything in there! The playground and the area around it, usually used for parking, was filled with the children playing on the swings, skating and scooting around, and throwing Frisbees at each other. It was wonderful to see!

Kucho-san had repeatedly asked the local government for a bus stop and had been repeatedly told that there wasn’t any money available with which to build one. When you find out, as I did soon after that conversation, that each temporary housing unit cost between four and twelve million yen, you can understand why there isn’t any money left for things like bus stops. But really, I thought, how expensive could a bus stop be?

Kucho-san thought it would probably cost about half a million yen, but I had a feeling that I could get it done for much cheaper than that, and I knew for sure that I could create a bus stop unlike any other bus stop Oshika had ever seen. Because people are basically living in a wasteland, and are met with negativity from the people they rely on to rebuild their town, I wanted to give Ohara the most beautiful bus stop in the world!

The mums at Summerhill International School had invited me to talk about my activities on Oshika just a few days before heading up there, and had promised to donate half of the money they planned on raising at their March 15^th fundraising event, to a project they wanted me to find for them. The bus stop was perfect for this. They aimed to donate ¥150,000 and called me the day after their event to say that they could in fact donate ¥200,000 and gave me the go-ahead to get things moving.

By this time I had such a clear picture of what the bus stop could look like, and had contacted Tsukasa at Kigumi, a small architecture and construction company, and told him of my plans.

As is often the case on Oshika, and even more so during this recent trip, the right things and people often seemed to present themselves to me — things just have a habit of falling into place. I had heard of Kigumi when visiting the home of Stephen Bird, just a few days before going to Oshika. Stephen asked me to give a talk at Meikei High School in Tsukuba and then to join his family for dinner in their home. As soon as I walked into his beautiful wood home I was completely overwhelmed — I had seen the inside of this home in my mind before. I’ve been talking to Kucho-san about a big project on Oshika for the past 15 months, and the inside of Stephen’s home is exactly what that project looks like in my head. It was such an incredible coincidence. I asked for an introduction to the company that made it and Tsukasa and I exchanged a few brief emails, really just saying hello rather than talking about anything specific. The big project won’t happen for a long time yet — I just wanted to touch base at that point.

So when the bus stop idea came along I immediately thought of Tsukasa, and asked him what he’d be able to do with a budget of ¥150,000. His English was great on email so I tried calling him to discuss ideas, but we were completely unable to communicate on the phone. Tsukasa was later to tell people that he never really understood who I was, what I was doing, or what I really wanted from him, but he was overcome with a sense that he simply had to do it — he still says that he can’t explain the feeling that he had but he was so compelled that he just had to get to Oshika and make this bus stop. We instantly connected as soon as we met in person, and greeted each other with a huge hug like we were long-lost friends.

Tsukasa designed it using remnants of materials used in other projects, which is why he was able to keep the costs so low. During the planning stages it became apparent that the previous location of the bus stop would be problematic — the land belongs to the local government and it would take about a month to get permission from them, and even then there was no guarantee that they would give permission. The money was there, the architect had been found, the materials had been sourced — I didn’t want anyone on Ohara to have to wait one more day without a bus stop. But we didn’t have the land.

Until Kucho-san suggested that we put it on the opposite side of the road, on land belonging to Takahashi-san, who, along with his wife, used to run a shop that made the most delicious ramen ever, according to everyone on the peninsula. Takahashi-san and his wife were together every day, all day, working together and living together until their late seventies. On the day of the earthquake, the Takahashis were in their ramen shop, right here on the land that we were considering for the bus stop. Mr Takahashi went up to the second floor as the tsunami headed toward the town. His wife rushed downstairs to get something, despite her husband’s protests. She didn’t make it, and her body was found a few days later.

Ever since then, Takahashi-san spends each day walking all around the town. His daughter, Miyoko, who lives several hours’ away, calls him every day at 10am, checking whether he is eating properly and to see how he is feeling. She says she still cries for her mother, every single day.

Takahashi-san’s friend put up a small storage building for him, into which Takahashi-san has put any belongings he could retrieve from the debris. I had seen this building before and it always bothered me somehow — it looked and felt sad but I didn’t know why. When I realized it belonged to Takahashi-san and found out what had happened on this very spot, I understood why the building was so sad. As we stood next to it, talking about the bus stop, I asked if he would like me to cheer up his building for him with some paint. He said he would like that, so I asked what colours he would like me to use — he said he’d like it to match the bus stop and told me to go ahead and do whatever I wanted.

I don’t think he quite expected me to do what I did! With the help of a few random individuals that got roped in, I painted the entire building bright blue, and covered it in red and white hearts. He loves it.

Next, it was time to tackle the bus stop itself — Tsukasa and an associate drove all the way from Saitama, to spend one day laying the concrete foundations, locally sourced, and then drove all the way back again. He returned a few days later with his small team, Suzuki-san and Furutani-san, along with Akane, his friend’s daughter who had recently returned from overseas, and was coming to help with the wakame as well as hopefully find a little inspiration as to the next stage of her life.

We started work the next day, as a typhoon descended upon the peninsula. We worked under a tarpaulin that we attached to Takahashi-san’s building and the crane that Tsukasa brought with him. They told me they had never worked in such conditions, and I can definitely say that I never have. Despite the tarpaulin and my “waterproof” puffy jacket I was soaked to the skin by 11:30am and worked another five hours in it — looking back I am proud of being able to stick to the “no whinge” policy I live by on Oshika and more than a little amazed that I managed to do so. The following day was the same. Tsukasa and his team worked so incredibly hard — taking very short breaks and lunches, and working until it was too dark to work anymore. They share my work ethic, which I am sorry to say I have found sadly lacking in many “volunteers” I’ve met. I was so impressed with them and it was such an honour to spend time with them. I feel so lucky to have met them.

On one of the construction days, Stephen Bird, who had introduced me to Tsukasa, brought his family up to Oshika. There was quite an amusing moment when Stephen ran off in the pouring rain to get coffees from a vending machine for us all, to Kucho-san’s horror: “Is the guest going to get the coffee?!” to which Stephen’s wife replied that they weren’t guests, but friends. I enjoyed explaining to Kucho-san how we were all the kind of people who appreciate being allowed to feel at home, and going to grab coffees for everyone felt like you were immediately welcomed. After explaining this little cultural difference, I worked with Stephen’s son on the wall insulation, and the others went over to Kobuchi to help the Sasakis with wakame.

Every day, whether I was painting hearts on the building, or working on the bus stop, Takahashi-san insisted on joining us, even if it was just to hang around. I was happy that he wasn’t wandering about the town deep in his own thoughts, and that we were giving him things to laugh and smile about. I started sending Facebook messages to Miyoko, telling her how her Dad was doing each day, and telling her not to worry — and when the weather was really awful I would threaten him with calling Miyoko to tell her that he wasn’t staying at home in the warm and dry. There was a lot of laughter throughout the construction.

Finally the rain stopped and Tsukasa and his team happily threw off the tarpaulin and got to work in the dry. We were getting short on time now, so I pulled Akane and Sophie (a British woman who had arrived a couple of weeks earlier to help the fishermen) away from the wakame and asked them to work on the bus stop. Kucho-san and I had to take a truck into the Sendai branch of IKEA.

When the bus stop idea had popped into my mind, I not only had a very clear image of the outside of the bus stop, but also of the inside. I saw inside as being like a living room — bright and warm and cosy — with a sofa and pictures and plants. The kind of place you would just love to spend time in, and something that would always make people smile. As Summerhill had raised more than I had given Tsukasa as a budget, I had a bit of extra money with which to put the finishing touches to the bus stop; to spend on the kinds of things that make a place a home. I had contacted IKEA and explained about the bus stop project, and they had suggested that I speak to the Sendai IKEA, who were, I have to say, absolutely wonderful. They immediately understood what I was trying to do and were so happy to be able to help. I had initially asked them for a discounted three-seater bright red sofa, which they didn’t have in stock, but instead asked me if I would like two two-seater sofas. For free. Of course!!!! We collected the sofas, and I bought a few little things to add to the interior — some fake flowers, a vase, a bookshelf, and some picture frames. It was nice to spend some of that money in the shop that was being so incredibly generous by donating the sofas. Kucho-san left some fresh wakame in the store for the staff to enjoy, to show his appreciation. He had never been to an IKEA before and bought some things for his own home. Once everyone moves into permanent housing I think this IKEA store will be incredibly useful to them so it was nice to introduce the town to the shop.

The next day, when the paint inside the bus stop had dried, it was time to put all the finishing touches together. I was keen for Tsukasa’s team to see the project in its entirety before they headed back to Saitama, so also roped in a few guys from the Kobe Post Office Union, who were helping with wakame but happened to be sitting around doing nothing when I spotted them. Not a sensible thing to do if I’m around ; ) Before they knew it they were putting together outdoor garden furniture sent up from Tokyo as a gift from the lovely Amanda Jane Jones — a consistent supporter of the shop and the brunch throughout this entire trip.

We put together the sofas, placed a few ornaments on the bookshelf, hung the picture frames (I had printed out photos of the townspeople in group photos I had taken during the past 15 months — lots of new, happy memories to be treasured), planted the cushions that the Summerhill mums had kindly sent up, and placed fake plants around (fake so nobody need worry about taking care of them). Sophie had painted a little stool to match Takahashi-san’s building and the children of Summerhill had made a piece of artwork to go on the wall. Summerhill had been worried about putting their name on a bus stop that could get “shabby” and how that might then affect the school’s reputation, so I also included a doormat and a dustpan and brush to make it easy for people to keep it spick and span.

Next to the bus stop we made a little outdoor area from pebbles I sourced locally, surrounded by large stones that Sophie and I found on other parts of Takahashi-san’s land. It was nice to be able to somehow incorporate some of the items that would have made Takahashi-san’s land so beautiful before everything was destroyed.

And then we were done!

The completed bus stop, and everything around it, turned out perfectly. I felt so strongly on this trip that anything that is built here on Oshika has to be made with an extra amount of love, and created truly from the heart. Anything made here has to be made with beauty and love at its core, to somehow make up for the wasteland that surrounds it and the constant negativity that local people are subjected to. This bus stop not only makes everyone in Ohara smile, but also makes everyone who sees it smile. I lost count of the number of people who pulled over to find out what we were doing, to take pictures, and to go inside and try out the sofas. It makes the local people so proud of their town. It gives people something positive to talk about. The bus stop became the talk of the peninsula — I hoped that Takahashi-san would no longer be known as the ramen shop owner who lost his wife, but instead as the man with the building covered in hearts. It has truly brightened up the area and, judging by the conversations I later heard going on between the local people, planted the seeds of ideas of what just might be possible with a little bit of help from some friends.

So a huge thank you goes out to some very special friends who made this possible — Sophie, Akane, Stephen Bird and family, Amanda Jane Jones, IKEA, Kigumi, and everyone at Summerhill International School. Your kindness has had a huge impact on a very special town, and a very special gentleman.

The bus driver was lovely — with the foreign name written on the front of the bus he had thought he was picking up a bunch of volunteers and taking them back to Tokyo. But when he saw all the children get on the bus and I explained what we were doing he couldn’t stop grinning. For the entire journey.

The kids were also in very high spirits throughout, and the mums sensibly stuck together at the back of the bus, and let their kids get on with it in the middle section. I joined the mums and went through the details about their host families again — I had done this a couple of weeks ago but just wanted to confirm what we had talked about before. They also wanted to check they were pronouncing “please” and “thank you” correctly and also to find out how to say “I need a wee/poo,” which then led to lots of hilarious gestures they could use in case they forgot. The Tsudachi girls are quite a naughty bunch and had me in fits of laughter.

Most of the host families had made contact with their guests either by phone or on Facebook during the past week, so they were already feeling very welcomed. I called each of the host families from the bus and passed over the phone to anyone who hadn’t had a chance to say hello to their hosts yet.

As we got closer to Tokyo everyone started staring out the windows at the sprawling city — for quite a few of the children it was their first trip to Tokyo and they were glued to the windows. It was lovely to point out Tokyo Tower and the groups of cherry blossom trees still in bloom.

Finally, after nine and a half hours of travelling, we arrived at Tokyo Station, and were greeted by the host families, who had very patiently been waiting because of our 90-minute delay. There were 15 minutes of chaos as I tried to introduce everyone and then each group went their respective ways. Later that night photos started appearing on Facebook, showing what fun everyone was having together, and each one got me a little teary — this whole trip wasn’t just about Disneyland but also about the time with the host families, and I could see from how the children were having so much fun together that friendships were definitely being made.

The next morning the hosts handed off their guests to me at either Tokyo Station or Disneyland, and some decided to stay for the day too. I handed out the tickets and maps to everyone then waved them off, found somewhere with wifi and settled down to work and enjoy the photos they were posting on Facebook throughout the day, until I was to meet them again in the evening. Needless to say, they had a fantastic day despite it being unexpectedly cold and a bit drizzly.

The weather as we head back to Oshika on the bus, as I type, is absolutely beautiful though — we’ve enjoyed an amazing view of Tokyo as we move from one world into another and back to Tohoku. And I find myself so deeply touched by the kindness of the host families and sponsors. I have felt like that for all of this weekend, actually. I am naturally very easily moved to tears anyway, and especially about anything to do with Oshika — but what usually moves me is seeing my new friends laughing and smiling and enjoying themselves. There is something about seeing the pure joy on their faces that really makes my eyes sting.

Instead this weekend I have been rather overcome by the kindness of the host families, and a little overwhelmed at knowing that some people, really are, very special. You made possible an unforgettable weekend for everyone involved, and already many of you have told me that this is just the beginning of a special friendship between you all. I can’t wait to hear all about it as time goes on.

And then there are the people who made the weekend financially possible — almost ¥600,000 was contributed in total, which paid for the bus between Oshika and Tokyo, and all the Oshika people’s Disneyland tickets. I had some extra so I was able to put a little bit of money in envelopes for each of the families to use towards their travel expenses around Tokyo, refreshments during the day at Disneyland, or any souvenirs from the weekend. And at the very last minute, I was unexpectedly given even more money to go towards the trip — one person literally stuffed money in my pocket and ran because I had my hands full handing out the tickets and maps at the entrance to Disney. After waving everyone goodbye I remembered it and was shocked to pull out ¥40,000. I was moved to tears.

With that and the other unexpected donations I decided to buy lightweight Disney jackets for all the children, and some fun pants for the mums and dads! Zip-up hoodies and underwear are always needed on Oshika so this seemed like the right thing to do — a souvenir that was also extremely practical! And great fun to see all the gift-wrapped packages being opened on the bus home.

Originally this weekend was about giving families a break, letting the kids run about and be …. well, kids, and about creating new, happy memories for people who had lost so much. Of course it was still about that, but it actually became something quite different as well.

It became a celebration of the kindness of people who opened up their hearts, homes (and wallets!) to complete strangers.

And for doing so, I have to thank Stephanie Kawai, Lorna Nagamine, Veronica Lonsdale, Jane McDonald, Kellie Fitzmaurice, Monique Strauss, Yoko Fukasawa, John Whetsel, Tair Mordoch, Grace Sekimitsu, Lara Chho and their families; and also everyone at Kids World and Happy Days.