37 Frames : Great Tohoku Earthquake & Tsunami 2011 Japan… Children of the Tsunami, Lady Gaga & The One about the Clock…

With Kodomo-no-hi (Children’s Day) today in Japan, May 5th, it is perhaps fitting that this post is dedicated to the littlest survivors of the the Tsunami. All about the kids. Let me keep it real though, this was a struggle. Where to start? What to say truly? How to do the situation justice as storytellers. For this is just how it is in one place. One experience in one shelter of many.   In composing this I was so distracted in trying to find the right frame of reference, package it neatly in an easy way to comprehend. But I am at a loss. I have nothing for you. I turned to Misuzu Kaneko, famed children’s poet hoping that she may have had something to say from beyond her young grave. I always come back to her Rainbows On Eyelashes…I mean, how can you not? It always says more than it doesn’t, it is as childlike as it is deeply profound. It applies and reapplies in its innocence and immaturity; it’s depth and scale. And of course in its need for snacks, the handing out of kindness and nourishment. For the stomach and for the soul. Which is sometimes just all we can do.

I wipe and wipe
Yet they keep flowing.
Within my tears
A thought arises.

– I must be
An adopted child –

While I look and look
At the beautiful rainbows,
On the tips of my eyelashes
A thought arises.

– I wonder what
Today’s teatime snack will be –

And so we journeyed back to the elementary school shelter with a little caravan of joy to try and do some heart care. For the children, with a focus on art, games, crafts and quiet play. This was an independent yet concurrent project with our documenting and volunteering. Something many feel they would like to do and truly can. Whether it is in Tohoku or down here in Tokyo – but more on that later. In almost every encounter we found that the need was so great for some kindness, time-out, soft words, smiles and simply just listening. The need to share and express and emote was so tangible, even if it was in the street passing the mangled remains of the infamous juice shop, delivering socks or being asked directly by locals to shed some light and create some awareness on the overwhelming issue of PTSD. Some attention to the heart, a lifeline. Equal parts food, water, heart.

There were so many different points of view on this during our last visit, particularly with regards to children. Hopefully things are somewhat more on the same page now. Some said unequivocally it wasn’t the time. It was too dark. We understand. Some said wait until the people ask for what they want. Others said please help, please reach out, do whatever you can now. I truly feel in this situation, very respectfully, it is just so extreme and simply too big an ask to expect people whose lives have been ripped from the foundations to have to think of what they want or need. So we thought working on a concurrent project, in a collage of reaching out was something we had to try, based on our previous interactions with locals and the resulting feedback. So with a love of Japan, an artist and parents in tow, collective years of education experience and sensitivity dialed up we had to just try. Then if mistakes are made we are an easy blame. We are an easy way out. And just as easy a way in.

Since our very first trip to Tohoku what we have taken away time and time again is the need for human contact and time. We are all hopeless professionals of the human condition, nothing more. If there are some needs to be met and someone can plug it for a bit then let’s give it a go. We are there anyway. One car was full of new toys, games and art supplies for an audience otherwise left to playing in rubble, avoiding glass and nails, running around wildly on a mountain of boxes, the only jungle gym in the neighborhood. Corry and Jane quietly set up some structured play, in an unobtrusive corner of the hall, with a beautiful art and craft area, a chance for expression and a few games.

Before they had finished setting up children came. Caregivers came. Tentatively at first, then very quickly trusting on all levels.  And that’s when we all realized the much bigger picture here and the much bigger need. It was screamingly obvious and immediately the blinkers of having to help the children were firmly off. For it was not only about the children it was the caregivers that so desperately need help.

The reach, in just a few minutes became so much wider than the intention. We met newly single parents, struggling mothers and fathers doing this on their own now in the vortex of grief and despair, and heartbreakingly tragic the grandparents now parents to tiny babies and toddlers again – they all simply need so much assistance.  There is real need for a time-out, a chance to think or not think while little ones are cared for and nurtured. We all need some heart care. Even just for a bit. So with a little deflection, the stage was set and people came. With quiet creativity flowing we met so many children, parents, relatives with stories to tell. This project was run over a few days. For privacy names will not be mentioned but forever remembered, just the stories, the words and moments shared.

I found a lady watching quietly from the front of the stage. I went to say hello. To check on her. I found her in silent tears and she clutched my hand and said “thank you, thank you”. “Thank you so much for coming today, we need this so much”. I was worried we had upset her. She said, “No, no. I just don’t know what to do”. “My daughter has passed, I must now take care of my granddaughter,” she said. “I am old and selfish…I don’t know what to do”. She looked anything but. The gentleness in her face, behind her mask, and her very kind repose. She was deep in mourning but determined to do her best. She said, “I have explained to my granddaughter that her mother will not be home again, that she is watching over us from heaven.” But that is of little consolidation to her 6-year-old charge…”She always says to me, I just want to hug my mummy one more time, please grandmother…” “How can I answer that? What can I say to her?”

So she just wept, her granddaughter unaware, all the while busy creating, this in itself giving grandmother a break. Freeing herself to a stranger. To say things she cannot say to her friends, neighbors, community in the same situation. We talked some more, about strength and tomorrow and being able to get there through children. But this is so much for her to bear, in the winter of one’s life.  She was so grateful for Jane & Corry’s goodness. She gingerly took crayons, paper and toys, at-home supplies. We gave her more. She was worried it was too much. But then she said, “I have nothing for my granddaughter to play with, just nothing, thank you truly, this will help so much”. She stayed all afternoon and we will be sure to check up on her next visit.

Here are some reflections from Corry…“the first day in the shelter within minutes children surrounded us selecting toys and tentatively stepping on the art mat. After quickly finding their medium of choice and getting stuck in (sometimes solo, sometimes with a bit of help from Jane and I) they soon became visibly relaxed as they got lost in the work. Whether it was rolling clay or gluing feathers or tracing lines on the page, the process always calmed and centered them and brought them back to being children. The longer they spent in that place of relaxed creating, the more we saw their personalities emerge and one thing we discovered straight away is that Ishinomaki kids are full of personality. Not big city kids. But rather they have grown up playing hard outside and getting into ‘stuff’ and it really shone within our small time together each day as the child in them would emerge again with the art and play.”

“I remember a little guy, one of the first to tentatively sit on the art mat, staring silently at all the materials and instantly grabbing the clay. Getting stuck in he worked away and kept looking up at me (I forgot I had my nametag on with my name written in katakana コリー!) and then as I was helping another child I felt a small tug at my arm and a little face look happily into mine as he proudly showed me his creation. My heart raced, this was my first connection, this was what I wanted to provide for these kids, a place to feel they could play and know we were there for them to help them find a bit of calm in the storm and to help them release things inside. Making that connection was all that mattered.”

“Then we encountered this little brother/sister pair who came that same day. They split up, the little girl to Jane and older brother to me…the kids knew who they felt most comfortable with and chose one of us to talk to and be with straight away (sometimes changing over as their moods changed), parents and mothers and grandparents too came to talk or stand near. That little sister was a dynamo, all decked out in princess get up that Jane had supplied, fixing the tiara, adding some bracelets and glittery hair slides. Such a wonderful little character. She had to have Jane’s full attention. In fact, she had the energy of 10 kids keeping Jane busy and laughing. Her brother was an old soul tucked into a 10 year old body. He had such a gentle smile. He spent the first day trying to figure Jane and I out, curious as ever, after a few questions on where we were from and why we were there (kokoro-no-care) he was our buddy. Bringing a good friend back to see us the 2nd day, they got stuck into the clay with Jane and he made me a snake sculpture with a huge bowl of curry rice.”

“Finishing up he told me to take it to my kids back in Yokohama and then he realized that Jane and I hadn’t eaten lunch (the shelter doubling as the food lineup for their 1 meal of curry a day, he ate his near me earlier and brought his friend a meal so that his friend could stay lost and quiet in the clay for an hour or so). Suddenly his mission was to feed us. I told him I had a power bar, that was ok then for him. Still, ‘What about Jane? Can she eat curry? She will be tired? Can she eat spicy curry? I will line up for her…’ and on and on until I refused enough. He returned after a few minutes with 2 cans of soda, still concerned that we were needing something. This young boy, caring for his sister and then worrying about Jane and I and bringing his best friend, who looked to be in a deep place of pain, barely speaking, just deep in thought and clay…these kids are growing up fast because they have to.”

Lady Jane and The Princess Series…

Meeting the Minato Boys.

This little oasis a respite from their outside playground.

While the heart care was reaching out inside, I had a little time to catch up on some of the other work and activities around the shelter outside. Much was going on and certainly a lot of substantial changes here from our last visit. In what was once the school playground, a temporary car park is in it’s place. Proudly parked to the right was this bright orange van. I went to find out and met this inspiring team headed by Ise-san with their mobile Japan Post on wheels. Ise-san is the head of the Post Office in Ishinomaki. It is all gone. He is now also an evacuee living at the school. But such is his dedication that on site he has now established a mobile Japan Post, servicing the locals as best as they can, supported by volunteers Japan-wide. His very friendly team here were from all over; Nagoya, Shimane, Tokyo. Some heading home, new volunteers on the way.

I asked them about what they were doing, particularly with regard to Postal Savings, which operates like a bank. I asked if he wouldn’t mind me asking…since many people have lost everything, including ATM cards, passbooks and personal stamps (hanko’s) and ID, how can you be sure of who they are and account for that? He simply replied, “This is Japan, Japanese are honest.” He was steadfast in his resolve. Cutting through the regular channels, “In this case, people can simply use their signature”. Very positive to see a basic service in operation and the smiles that accompanied it.

On the opposite side of the car park is now a little tent city, about to give much needed relief to the community. A temporary bath house is being built and should be open now. I went in to check it out and found small teams of carpenters hard at work.

The blue sign, signalling the entrance to the men’s bath, the red for the women. Locals working on the wood stove and perimeter encouraged us to take a look inside. It was new, beautifully made and of course not too far from after the entrance was the shoes off area. Such a small thing, but so symbolic. The smell of fresh pine perhaps and we rounded the corner to see a surprisingly large bath with 4 workers sitting comically inside. Eating their bento’s. We started to talk and they explained how they came to work on this project. They are volunteers from all over Japan, carpenters with a desire to help. They made their way to Ishinomaki independently and were quickly put to work.

Being in the know (as we were complaining about our own lack of showering this past week), they drew us a crude map to a nearby bath house servicing the volunteers not far from the university. We were so grateful and finally they happily posed bath-side, before heading back to their lunch boxes and important work.

The entrance to the Shelter, previously the elementary school. A hub of activity with people coming and going all the time. And then it was time to get back to the gym to see how the afernoon was progressing…

More reflections from Corry…
“This 14-year old showed up with his buddies and little brother. All the kids are from the aparto just 1/2 block from the school and all of them once attended the Minato school which is now turned into the shelter.

The 14-year-old was the laid back leader of the group. He entertained us with his relaxed banter, amazing card tricks, love of Michael Jackson (and a wicked moonwalk to boot). The boys had all been at the shelter the day before I met them and challenged Dee to an UNO championship. They returned as promised the next day and I clicked with the older boy right away.

We hung out and I rolled out long lengths of paper which we stuck to the cracked walls that failed to join to floor to the floorboards which had been ripped away from the walls. Always a reminder that nothing was ‘right’. The boys loved the idea of ‘graffiti-ing’ the walls of their former school, as all boys that age do.

Suddenly the older boy asked me the time and when I told him it was coming on 4 pm he grew really weary looking and his whole body closed in and looked heavy. He scratched the back of his neck like I have seen so many older men do on the train and said ‘tsukareta’. I asked if he was tired and he told me he is always tired now but he has to be genki for his brother and friends.

Then all the boys began to tell me that there are no more people living in the first floor of their aparto (Jane and I drove by later and it looked as though a bomb had gone off. The whole first was completely floor-rubble. The belongings filling the streets smelled of dead fish, sewage and god knows what). The water stopped at the second floor but they had lost neighbours and power and water and got their food from lining up in the shelter everyday. Sometimes breakfast (only some days) and curry lunch.

These boys broke my heart, we had seen them when we arrived playing in a pile of broken down boxes (which all the relief aid came in) over in the far side of the room and we thought, we need to bring sports ‘stuff’ for them…but then quickly realized, but there is no field. They so need to run and play. Still, our badminton racquets got put to use and we found a ball to shoot some hoops with that they could be boys again. “

The badminton was a hit.

From Jane…“Another little boy who was 4 came to sit on me and draw. Then we played badminton and he kept wanting hugs. He had such a cheeky grin, but sometimes disappeared into himself.

There was a lady who sat all day by the door of that gym – clutching a little dog. She had a mask covering most of her face. She didn’t talk to anyone the whole time we were there, and it was only when everyone was leaving that I realised that this little guy who stayed with me most of the day, was her son. She looked broken.”

Jane had a similarly emotional experience with another mother. She had lost her mother, her daughter’s grandmother. She has not told her daughter yet. She was so grateful for the time-out and the care. She was visiting the shelter for some supplies with her daughter and her daughter’s friend.  She said she had been together with her daughter continually for the last 5 weeks. Her daughter doesn’t want to be left with neighbors, as she is so scared. This has made it difficult for mum to do all the paperwork, visit the missing persons centers and make the very sad arrangements. She is beyond exhausted mentally, physically. She broke down with Jane and let it all out. Here are Jane’s reflections…

“The girls needed very little encouragement to get stuck into the art supplies and even began smiling after a few minutes. The mum hovered by the stage and talked a bit to Corry. But she didn’t want to leave. I saw her watching us so went to talk to her. She was such a lovely lady, and I discovered she had lived just a few minutes from me in Bangkok. Her husband is Thai and she had come back to Japan for 2 years to look after her parents. This was her 1st year back.

She was so happy that the girls could smile and remember to be children again, because they had been so busy just surviving that most of the adults had forgotten that the children needed to have fun.

She couldn’t cry, but apologized for having made me cry with her story. She couldn’t talk to her friends because they had all lost family and were in the same deep hole as she was, and being Japanese they had to keep a strong face. She did cry a little then reset her face with her hands, into a smile. Her mother was missing and she hadn’t told her daughter so that she wouldn’t need to be sad yet. She was living at the shelter as her home had been destroyed, and was so worried about her future.”

Within a few minutes, the mum called out to her daughter…”I have to go and run an errand, is that OK, I’ll be back soon?” Her daughter quickly replied…”Yes, mummy. Ok, bye, bye.” Mum moving forward, utterly relieved, a new kind of welcome shock, while her daughter created pipe cleaner works of art. Both able to express themselves in actions and thoughts. It was a pivotal turning point. Upon her return, there was a sense of calm, as she collected her daughter and supplies to go. With grateful, heartfelt thanks not needed in anyway.

We watched for a long time a very elderly man watch the children play. He had his back to the main hall, but was facing the stage. From here we saw that tears were simply streaming down his face, behind his mask, now damp from silent, invisible weeping. This went on for some time, not wanting to interrupt. Finally we went to check on him. “Are you Ok? Can we help you?” He quietly replied, “It is so nice to hear the children laughing again, it seems like so long ago. I haven’t heard laughter or seen smiles for weeks.” “I will be fine, thank you”. He stood there for more than an hour.

Trace had an experience with another elderly gentleman. He arrived looking dazed and confused.  There were numerous Japanese volunteers in the gym, but he made his way through all the people directly to Trace. Perhaps her smile, or just the strength in her presence drawing him to her rather than those nearer by.  He spoke in a very strong dialect and all she could understand was something about a bicycle.  She guided him over to ask someone to translate, where it was found that he was anxious and stressed, as his bicycle was broken… a spoke in the wheel cracked through… And he didn’t know where to go or who to see about getting it fixed. His anxiety about this problem, about getting his only means of transport seen to was all consuming.  On the verge of tears, it seemed like the stresses of the last few weeks had all culminated with this one last breaking straw.  Tracey guided him outside where she had met a lovely English speaking SDF guy earlier in the day. “Leave it with me” he said. “I’ll help him”. The elderly man bowed deeply to Tracey and she watched as they both wandered off together to fix the broken bike.

The same day Jane noticed another grandpa who came in with a little boy and a baby – obviously not used to taking care of them. This is what she remembers… “He was so grateful to let them play, but couldn’t look at me, as I played with the older boy.”

Jane also met another little guy who appeared out of the rubble covered in dirt. “He told me he was 4.  After sitting for a while and looking at the toys, he grabbed my hand and pulled me outside to show me the rubble and mud that had become his playground.

He began wiping mud off a rock that had fallen over the path.

Then I realized it was the stone from the entrance to the shrine and cemetery at the back of the school. He wanted to show me the writing on it. Using his hands he described the water and crumpled cars covering everything. 4 years old and such a wise little man already.”

The graffiti walls.

The day before we had popped into the school and we had run into a lot of children. We promised them we would be back the next day with more time to spend and some supplies. I asked if they would be up for the first Ishinomaki World Uno Contest? “Sure”, they said. “What time?” I promised 2pm, because of some other work we had to do. Corry, Jane and Trace were already set-up in the gym while I was off interviewing and documenting other initiatives at the school (the post office and the bath from above etc…)

You can be sure that when I excused myself for my 2pm appointment that they were ready and waiting. In a massive, debilitating effort I tried my very best, but Australia was no match at all for the impressive Ishinomaki team. And I went down, way down 3-0 before a little 2 year old came and collected all the Uno cards and wandered off with them. We were all stunned, but found it pretty funny really. There was no snatching or fighting or frustration. Just a wish to share and be kind to even the littlest, who have no idea that the rules of Uno do not include keeping all the cards for yourself and gluing pink pom-poms on them.

This is how we met up with the Minato boys. Strong, sweet, tough, tired, beautiful, sad, heavy, tired, very, very clever, lovely, real.

We finally rescued the cards, and quietly gave them to one of the older boys. He promised to keep them and share them and play everyday with the Ishinomaki team. Training, you know, for when we come back.

The one and only. Little Lady Gaga. She knew all the words to every song. She would only go by the name Lady Gaga. The stage and the world is hers. She entertained everyone gladly. P p p p p  Poker Face…

In the midst of all this it was so wonderful to see and meet the Columbian Ambassador who dropped by for an unexpected visit, to truly understand the scale and the real-life experience on the ground. She was so lovely and interested in all that was going on and her kindness, openness and awareness simply radiated. It was an honor to spend some time.

Friends, bringing back friends the next day…

Trace spent quite a lot of time with the older boy’s brother that was the recipient of the Uno cards. She found him outside. Sitting by himself with a ball. Trace asked him, “Would you like be alone or can I hang out with you?” “Please sit together with me”, was the reply.

And they talked about many things.Where Trace lived in Australia, what her house was like, her family and then do you have big disasters there? Well… Australia usually doesn’t have earthquakes, but we do have things like sharks, snakes, spiders. That kind of thing. He asked tons of questions, enjoying the escape into a different world for a while. They laughed and made terrible jokes all in pigeon Japanese, with a hand slapping game wedged somewhere in the middle. Only after about 30 minutes or so was he ready to head back into the gym to find his friends. All the while keeping a very protective eye on his new friend Trace.

We visited the school several times, knowing that it was important to be there for more than a minute, to do something more long term. To foster connections. But of course there would come a time when we had to go. On our last day we dropped by again. The Minato boys were there, of course. We saw our Uno friend. “We just wanted to let you know we have to go today, so we wanted to say ‘see you soon’, not goodbye.” We’ll be back. “When?” he asked. “Ummm not sure just yet, probably May, maybe around or after Golden Week”. “Oh, Ok. Could you come back May 22nd?” “Why?”, we asked. “That is my birthday”.

Our little attempt at heart care gave families time to get clothes, food, time alone.

We met so many people who have touched us deeply. From locals living in their own homes, to evacuees. Everyone stopped to say hello, to talk for a while.

As we were leaving, packing up for the day, then heading home Corry and Jane met another elderly man. Very dignified and elegant amid the dust and debris. “Where are you from?”, he enquired, as many did. Answers were given. He had visited all those countries and loved them all so much, showering glowing compliments and thanking us deeply. Then he suddenly announced he had lost his sister and mother. He was trying to find them, checking the lists, visiting shelters. He visits this one every day, just in case. He bowed deeply and left. And that was it. The girls saw him in his car driving off, tears streaming down his face.

The guy on the right above yelled out “Hi!” during his smoke break. “I saw you before, thank for coming again and again and not forgetting us”. Then we met the adorable cookie. A tsunami survivor. His owner, gaining much strength from Cookie’s many affections. He had outrun the waves in his car. How he did, he’s still not sure. Cookie gave us all cuddles and kisses.

We left the shelter finally, after connecting with so many new and old faces, of all ages, sharing experiences and hearing so many stories. It all spoke to the heart. Certainly some hope populated the landscape of this effort. Some. There was positivity in this visit, warmth and the seedlings of a tomorrow. Combine that with an undercurrent of continued awareness and the understanding of new needs and the overall massive need to harness the momentum of wanting to help. There is simply so much to do and still to do.

Upon arriving home we have had some moving and equally heartbreaking emails from survivors in response to our visit. We would love to share them here on the blog once we have permission.

So some lovely news to share today this Children’s Day…via Corry (with connections to Yokohama International School). She has just forwarded the YIS newsletter…

YIS confirms…“that we will be ‘adopting’ two junior high schools in the coastal city of Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture: Minato Junior High School and Watanoha Junior High School. The reason we are adopting two schools is because Ishinomaki, one of the areas that suffered tremendous damage from the tsunami, will almost certainly be consolidating schools in the city as, sadly, there are not as many students as there were previously. This consolidation is another reason why it took so long to find a partner school, as there has been uncertainly surrounding which schools would continue. Some schools will likely need to remain shelters over the medium term.

Our adoptee schools have identified some immediate requests for support, including sports uniforms, a piano and brass band instruments. (They will make sure that items they receive can move with the students in any consolidation.) So in the coming weeks and months we will be directing funds raised from Food Fair, the one-yen-drive and other fundraising activities towards helping these schools. And over the longer term we will be developing some people-to-people exchanges for students and community members.”

Thank you.

Hopefully more schools to be adopted by others, ideas in the works to adopt a community, a family, a store, a village.  Hopefully our teeny tiny part in introducing YIS to Yoshioka at Peace Boat and to Ishinomaki, will encourage others to follow suit.  James, and all at YIS who made this happen … thank you.

So the dreamlike state lifts. The reality that this is life for so many becomes so clear and time does still go by. Things improve day by day as dreadfully hard as it is. Differences are being made.

And that’s when it hits you even harder. It is right there in front of you all the time. Time. We didn’t even notice it. The Minato school clock presides over all. Of course it is now broken, fixed to a cataclysmic point in the past we cannot change. Evacuees towels drying above it. Tick. Tock. Stop. At 2:46 the earth shook, a little over an hour later it sunk, the blackness engulfing everything in it’s path. Stopping the clock. This wicked stopwatch reminding us all.

More about The Great Tohoku Earthquake & Tsunami 2011 Japan:

Read The Black Mouth here…
Read Dead Zone Ganbaro & The Fruit Shop Story here…
Read Sweet Philosophy, that Ishihara and The Bath House Story here…
Read Graveyard Views & Grateful Thanks here…
Read Sequels, Smili’s & The Gumboot Story here…
Read Children of the Tsunami, Lady Gaga and the One about the Clock here…
Read Dark, Heavy & the one about the Drum here…
Read Strangled Blossoms, Trespassing & the One about Sinking towns here…