Japan News (3/19)
Mar. 19th, 2011 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mbarker3/18
Two guys out going into a trashed building. They're wearing white rubber boots, two or three layers of pullovers, and beard stubble.
They go up to the second floor, and into what apparently was an office. There's a copier or printer smashed on its side on the floor, other debris scattered around. But in a metal shelf near the wall is a computer. One looks at the other one, says, "It's all on there. It won't run, we don't have power, but the data is there." Apparently this was a small business, and these are the two owners.
So they pick up the computer, bag it in a handy blanket, hang that on a bamboo pole, and lift the pole to their shoulders. They set off up the street, with the computer in a blanket hanging on its pole between them. Two happy modern scavengers carrying their prey home. Bits frozen on an unpowered computer disk.
At one of the emergency centers, there is a line of people waiting with their cell phones and chargers in hand to get to a table covered with extension cords and outlets. One older woman unwinds her charger and plugs in, then turns on the cell phone. She punches at the phone. "I've got mail." A moment later, she grabs her mouth, and reads. Then she holds it up to the camera. "I'm in the apartment. It's a mess, but I'm okay." That was the first contact with her son that she had in a week.
There is a map of northern Japan, showing the number in emergency centers in the various prefectures (what I keep thinking of as counties, since Japan is about the size of California, and I think of the next step down from a state as a county). The main one hit by the quakes and tsunamis has about 166,000 in shelters, with various numbers below that for the other prefectures.
An auditorium with long rows of off-white coffins, small white boxes about 6x6x8 inches sitting on top of them. These are the dead, waiting for identification and tears. Japan does cremation, so they won't sit long, only a day or two. The small boxes are for the ashes and bones. I have to admit, I'm a little curious as to where they got the coffins in such numbers, and whether the crematoriums are running.
There's an ... I'm not sure whether to call it an impromptu emergency center or an emergency emergency center, but the owner of a game center has shoved all the game machines out to the walls, not running since the power is off. In the open space in the center, he's welcomed people needing shelter. There's a small group, clustered around candles, with blankets and stuff. Very peculiar, seeing the people huddled in blankets, lit by candelight, with the unpowered game machines and their garish manga figures and signs as a wall around and behind them.
Out in the debris, there's a woman searching for any sign around where she thinks her home was. She gets a picture out of a plastic bag, and shows her daughter and her one year and a couple months old grand-daughter. She shakes her head, and says she hasn't heard from them or been able to find any trace. Then she finds a little four-foot tall tree, looks at the surrounding brush, and says that's the ume tree (sour plum) that they planted when her grand-daughter was born. She examines it, closely, and smiles at the tiny buds. It is budding for spring. She gets a board and sticks it in the dirt to help protect that little tree.
Kansai area school department is talking about offering space at the schools right now, while they are empty during spring break, for people from Northern Japan. They'd have heat, power, water, and food could be provided a lot easier. They're worrying about whether there is a way to get people here, but it's a good idea. Although school will start again in a couple of weeks, so it isn't a long-term solution.
Chiba, which has been shaken, but is near Tokyo, mostly out of the mess, held their middle school (Junior high) graduation. The principal talked about being shaken, but going on, and helping their neighbors.
There's more video of people in lines, old women, little children, men in heavy coats, holding up their hands, turning their backs, all to be scanned by shining silver sensor heads wrapped in plastic, checking for radiation. The maps of exposure seem to show the highest area having something like 10 micro Sv, and so far there don't seem to be any reports of either high exposure levels or radiation effects.
3/19 morning news
In Miyako, one of the areas that had quakes and tsunami, there's a small ramen store that has re-opened -- and the owner is giving away free food as long as it lasts. Ramen and onigiri (rice balls). The ramen seems heavy on bean sprouts (that are pretty big -- I'd guess he grows his own, and they hadn't been used in a while), but people from the area smile and say it tastes wonderful. The cook smiles at the people eating, then tells the reporter that his home washed away, but as long as he can, he's going to feed anyone who comes.
In Sendai, middle of the quakes and tsunamis, at the hospital, there's a young mother with her brand-new baby. She says she was terrified, since she couldn't run, but she went to a nearby factory and climbed three stories. Her house is gone, but she's smiling as she looks at the tiny baby, eyes closed, in her arms.
In Miyako, at an elementary school, a teacher collected her students in a classroom. She looks around, and takes the roll. She talks to each one, listening to them tell her about missing students, those who haven't found family, and all. Then she takes the class into an auditorium, where everyone who can has gathered. They sit on the floor as the principal leads them in graduation. He's managed to get graduation certificates, and hands those out. He talks about going forward, even with family and friends dead and missing. One of the parents talks about watching them all grow up, and that they aren't alone, that they are all together.
There's a short piece about the French PM meeting (or phoning?) the Japanese PM. He apparently told the Japanese PM that if there is anything they can do to help, please say so. And to back up his words, there's a plane full of supplies from France brought in. Taiwan is running some kind of charity for Japan, with some millions of dollars already raised.
There's two women digging through the debris. One unearths a stack of albums, and hands them to the other one. They open them up. Pictures are damp, curling, some dirt, but... memories.
A middle or high school teacher is taking some of his students for a walk through the nearby town. They are walking past a firetruck piled on a crushed car, heaps of debris, and all the rest of the now familiar destruction. He says these are some of the students that were at school the day of the quake. He reassures the kids that just because they haven't found parents or family does not mean they're dead.
Quakes continue. About 8:30, in Iwate, there was a little 4.3 magnitude quake. And while I was typing this, another one somewhere.
As one of the principals said, life goes on. "Kore kara, dekiru." From here on, we can do it.
Quakes, floods, nuclear danger vs. messages from friends and family, a new baby, and humanity reaching out and doing it together? No contest.
Two guys out going into a trashed building. They're wearing white rubber boots, two or three layers of pullovers, and beard stubble.
They go up to the second floor, and into what apparently was an office. There's a copier or printer smashed on its side on the floor, other debris scattered around. But in a metal shelf near the wall is a computer. One looks at the other one, says, "It's all on there. It won't run, we don't have power, but the data is there." Apparently this was a small business, and these are the two owners.
So they pick up the computer, bag it in a handy blanket, hang that on a bamboo pole, and lift the pole to their shoulders. They set off up the street, with the computer in a blanket hanging on its pole between them. Two happy modern scavengers carrying their prey home. Bits frozen on an unpowered computer disk.
At one of the emergency centers, there is a line of people waiting with their cell phones and chargers in hand to get to a table covered with extension cords and outlets. One older woman unwinds her charger and plugs in, then turns on the cell phone. She punches at the phone. "I've got mail." A moment later, she grabs her mouth, and reads. Then she holds it up to the camera. "I'm in the apartment. It's a mess, but I'm okay." That was the first contact with her son that she had in a week.
There is a map of northern Japan, showing the number in emergency centers in the various prefectures (what I keep thinking of as counties, since Japan is about the size of California, and I think of the next step down from a state as a county). The main one hit by the quakes and tsunamis has about 166,000 in shelters, with various numbers below that for the other prefectures.
An auditorium with long rows of off-white coffins, small white boxes about 6x6x8 inches sitting on top of them. These are the dead, waiting for identification and tears. Japan does cremation, so they won't sit long, only a day or two. The small boxes are for the ashes and bones. I have to admit, I'm a little curious as to where they got the coffins in such numbers, and whether the crematoriums are running.
There's an ... I'm not sure whether to call it an impromptu emergency center or an emergency emergency center, but the owner of a game center has shoved all the game machines out to the walls, not running since the power is off. In the open space in the center, he's welcomed people needing shelter. There's a small group, clustered around candles, with blankets and stuff. Very peculiar, seeing the people huddled in blankets, lit by candelight, with the unpowered game machines and their garish manga figures and signs as a wall around and behind them.
Out in the debris, there's a woman searching for any sign around where she thinks her home was. She gets a picture out of a plastic bag, and shows her daughter and her one year and a couple months old grand-daughter. She shakes her head, and says she hasn't heard from them or been able to find any trace. Then she finds a little four-foot tall tree, looks at the surrounding brush, and says that's the ume tree (sour plum) that they planted when her grand-daughter was born. She examines it, closely, and smiles at the tiny buds. It is budding for spring. She gets a board and sticks it in the dirt to help protect that little tree.
Kansai area school department is talking about offering space at the schools right now, while they are empty during spring break, for people from Northern Japan. They'd have heat, power, water, and food could be provided a lot easier. They're worrying about whether there is a way to get people here, but it's a good idea. Although school will start again in a couple of weeks, so it isn't a long-term solution.
Chiba, which has been shaken, but is near Tokyo, mostly out of the mess, held their middle school (Junior high) graduation. The principal talked about being shaken, but going on, and helping their neighbors.
There's more video of people in lines, old women, little children, men in heavy coats, holding up their hands, turning their backs, all to be scanned by shining silver sensor heads wrapped in plastic, checking for radiation. The maps of exposure seem to show the highest area having something like 10 micro Sv, and so far there don't seem to be any reports of either high exposure levels or radiation effects.
3/19 morning news
In Miyako, one of the areas that had quakes and tsunami, there's a small ramen store that has re-opened -- and the owner is giving away free food as long as it lasts. Ramen and onigiri (rice balls). The ramen seems heavy on bean sprouts (that are pretty big -- I'd guess he grows his own, and they hadn't been used in a while), but people from the area smile and say it tastes wonderful. The cook smiles at the people eating, then tells the reporter that his home washed away, but as long as he can, he's going to feed anyone who comes.
In Sendai, middle of the quakes and tsunamis, at the hospital, there's a young mother with her brand-new baby. She says she was terrified, since she couldn't run, but she went to a nearby factory and climbed three stories. Her house is gone, but she's smiling as she looks at the tiny baby, eyes closed, in her arms.
In Miyako, at an elementary school, a teacher collected her students in a classroom. She looks around, and takes the roll. She talks to each one, listening to them tell her about missing students, those who haven't found family, and all. Then she takes the class into an auditorium, where everyone who can has gathered. They sit on the floor as the principal leads them in graduation. He's managed to get graduation certificates, and hands those out. He talks about going forward, even with family and friends dead and missing. One of the parents talks about watching them all grow up, and that they aren't alone, that they are all together.
There's a short piece about the French PM meeting (or phoning?) the Japanese PM. He apparently told the Japanese PM that if there is anything they can do to help, please say so. And to back up his words, there's a plane full of supplies from France brought in. Taiwan is running some kind of charity for Japan, with some millions of dollars already raised.
There's two women digging through the debris. One unearths a stack of albums, and hands them to the other one. They open them up. Pictures are damp, curling, some dirt, but... memories.
A middle or high school teacher is taking some of his students for a walk through the nearby town. They are walking past a firetruck piled on a crushed car, heaps of debris, and all the rest of the now familiar destruction. He says these are some of the students that were at school the day of the quake. He reassures the kids that just because they haven't found parents or family does not mean they're dead.
Quakes continue. About 8:30, in Iwate, there was a little 4.3 magnitude quake. And while I was typing this, another one somewhere.
As one of the principals said, life goes on. "Kore kara, dekiru." From here on, we can do it.
Quakes, floods, nuclear danger vs. messages from friends and family, a new baby, and humanity reaching out and doing it together? No contest.
