After the Quake, and Why I'm Staying

Continuing on with unburdening my mind after the events of March 11th, I wanted to talk about what happened after the quake, as well as the little memories that have stuck with me the most during this stressful time. I also wanted to address, briefly, my personal reasons for staying, and explain them to my family and friends.

The two other English teachers stayed with me and Aaron for a while, one for a few days and the other for about a week before everyone felt safe to go back to their own homes. We continued to sleep together on futons laid out all over the floor in our living room, again to be close to the door in case we needed to evacuate quickly. The constant aftershocks left us all with a sense of vertigo; often one of us would look up in alarm, sensing an earthquake, only to realize that it was only in our head. We couldn't take showers for the first two days immediately following the disaster, as our power remained out for that entire time. Without power, there was no heat, and no heat meant no hot water. No one was particularly keen on the idea of taking a shower in freezing cold water. Finally being able to take one was the first thing to really make me feel better after the quake.

The local grocery store opened up once during the power outage, on a limited basis only, to sell ramen, as well as fruits and vegetables that were going to go bad without cooling. As there was no power, they only let a few people in at a time, through a small area, before taking everyone to where a line of cashiers waited with calculators and cash in hand. We stocked up on food, making sure to buy lots of cup ramen, and stockpiled it on our kitchen table. Once power was restored, people piled into the supermarkets to buy food. At first, little things ran out, like instant ramen and miso soup packets. Then, other things started to become scarce. As of now, things are finally starting to get back to normal, but for a while our grocery store was almost completely out of bread, rice, ramen, snacks, milk, butter, frozen foods, and many other emergency food supplies.

The reason for this random food shortage was another cause for concern: there was no gas. The quake and following tsunami had damaged/destroyed most of the supply lines for the Tohoku region, and gas tankers were unable to come up to re-fill stations. Gas stations quickly closed, having nothing to sell. When a shipment did come in, there were lines as long as 6 hours to buy about 20 bucks worth of gas. Buses and other vehicles used by the city took priority, but even they had to make changes. The buses ran on a limited Saturday schedule all week, and cancelled all Sunday routes. Our car was so low on gas that the next time we went to the station, we knew we had to fill up. So, we ended up not using our car, at all, for almost two weeks. When the main highway into the Tohoku region was finally opened up last week (after passing a safety inspection and being repaired in certain areas) this situation improved rapidly. We can now get a full tank of gas again at any gas station we go to, with no wait at all.

With the power coming back after two days, we were finally able to watch the news and see the damage caused by the tsunami along the east coast. I almost wished we didn't. The images we finally saw on the TV were unreal; houses floating on tsunami waves while on fire (which seems like some sort of horrible joke), entire villages reduced to kindling, people sobbing as they helplessly watched others being swept away.... Many of the survivors have said that it was hell. Seeing the images, I believe it. It was horrible enough just seeing, I can't imagine living through it.

Hachinohe, a city about 40 minutes away from where I live, was hit by the tsunami. While not nearly as bad as some of the places down south, it still sustained a lot of damage to the port area. It was shocking to see pictures and videos of places I had been, now destroyed almost past recognition. Kaboshima, the Seagull Island I talked about last year? That got hit. The shrine, being up on a hill, is still there, but the buildings surrounding it are gone or badly damaged. The little booth next to the base of the shrine that sold food for the seagulls got washed away. Debris, cars, and boats are smashed up and laying everywhere, and the entire area is covered by this thick, black mud. I don't even want to imagine what the beautiful Tanizushi Seaside looks like now.

One thing that has been continuously stuck in my mind since it happened was an experience we had the day of the quake. Having picked up the two other English teachers, we went to the Board of Education in my town to check in with my supervisor and let her know we were okay. As we walked along the strangely empty and quiet road, we passed by a large, old clock outside a local barber shop here. It was frozen at 2:46, the time of the earthquake. I admit I haven't had the courage to go look at it again since. I'm afraid that if it actually broke and froze at that time, instead of just stopping due to lack of power, that I will be forced to relive my emotions from that moment.

Even with all the bad things that happened though, and the massive amounts of stress we were all experiencing (I have never, ever wanted things to just go back to normal so badly. Not being able to lose myself in Dragon Age II, with my Xbox still being broken at that time, was irrationally infuriating.), there were some good memories too. In particular, the kindness of my friends and neighbors here in my little town stand out. A local funeral store owner gave us candles and candlesticks during the blackout for free, as we didn't have nearly enough. We all went and visited her and her family many times during the week after the earthquake, to talk and take advantage of human company. We also went to my supervisor's house many times, where she talked with us and made us warm, comforting tea. An older lady friend of ours had been in Europe recently, and was on the bullet train in Sendai when the tsunami hit. After being trapped inside for 9 hours, they finally let the passengers out and they walked along the tracks to the nearest station. There they were able to take buses to make it the rest of the way to their destination. After our friend finally reached our town again, one of the first things she did was harvest some fruit from her garden, and along with some souvenir chocolate, she came and delivered it to our house to check on how we were doing. I will never forget the kindness of these people, as well as many others who just stopped me to talk a bit and see how I was.

This really was a traumatic experience, for me as well as a lot of other people. Many foreigners living here in Japan have returned home, some for a short period of time, some permanently. While I understand the feelings behind those decisions, I do not share their desire to leave. I've had many friends and family ask if I am okay, and stress out about the situation down in Fukushima, and puzzle at my seeming calm. I am very, very far away from everything happening down there. The radiation level in my area is the same as always, and even if it was higher, I believe what the experts are saying about most of the areas with radiation posing minimal health risks, if at all. There is very little reason for me to worry about it, as there is nothing I can really do to change it. For me, the risk I face here is not at a significant enough level for me to leave, and I don't want to go back to America and leave all my Japanese friends behind here, especially after how kind they have been to me. I truly feel I have been accepted here, and until my contract ends, as far as I'm concerned this is my home right now. This is just for me, however, and I am fortunate to have many good friends here, as well as a husband who has supported me and been with me through all this. Many other foreigners that have left are single, and in this stressful time, without the support of a spouse or close friends, I can understand the desire to be with family. Others are also much, much closer to the disaster area than I am. Some have lost their homes in the tsunami, and at least one English teacher here has lost her life. My heart goes out to those people, as well as everyone else who has lost their homes or loved ones in this disaster.

With this, I am now done, and moving on from this subject. Talking about all this has definitely helped me. If you took the time to read both, thank you, my heart is a lot lighter now. I just want to end with one last thing: I am okay. I am cared for, my house is still here, I have power, food, friends and even laughter. My area is mostly returned to normal at this point, and I am thankful for it. There are many, many others, however, who have lost everything, and will not be okay for some time, if ever. If you haven't already, please make the effort to do something for Japan, whether it be a monetary donation, a moment of your time, or a thought and a prayer, sending good wishes their way. Thank you.

March 11th, 2011, 2:46 p.m.

So, I've been going back and forth on writing this. On the one hand, it would be nice to have all my friends and family know what happened without having to tell the story 20 billion times. On the other hand, nothing really that horrible happened to me, so do I have the right to vent about my insignificant problems? In the end, three weeks after the event, what decided me were the aftershocks. Not the ones that happened right after the big earthquake, but the ones in the last few days. I decided to write this because of one reason: the recent quakes are upsetting me, much more than they have any right to, and I think it's because I never dealt with my experiences from the first one. I've decided that even though my town, my friends, my house and myself are all alright, I did have a fairly traumatic experience, and talking about it will only help me. Besides, this blog is supposed to be about my experiences in Japan; it doesn't necessarily follow that it will only contain good experiences. With an aim of clearing the air and relieving myself from the memories, I therefore present to you my experiences on March 11th, 2011, the day of the Great Northeast Japan Earthquake.

I won't bore you with the day leading up to the quake; it was ordinary in every way. As it was a Friday, I was at my elementary school that I teach at, per my usual schedule. When 5th period rolled around and I went in to teach the 2nd graders, I admit I was more upset at the text I had received from my husband telling me our Xbox 360 had just died than I was excited to see the kids. That feeling changed fairly quickly though, as it's impossible to teach adorable 2nd graders and remain grumpy. Our lesson was proceeding to plan, with the kids being happy and active, when the quake hit.....

At first, everything was exactly like March 9th, two days before, when the biggest earthquake I had experienced in my life up to that point hit. On that day, when the ground started rumbling, the 1st graders (again, at my elementary school) immediately hid under their desks while I stood in the doorway, the one thing I could remember from earthquake preparedness in my youth. As the building trembled, the 1st graders got a little scared, so I kept talking to them and assuring them it was alright. Once it stopped, the teachers checked on all the kids, and as nothing had happened other than some shaking, the day soon resumed its normal activity. As that was my first large earthquake, I was a little nervous about what had happened at first, but as no overly large consequences came from that quake, I soon began to feel that these earthquakes were no big deal, if that was a 7.0. I remember Aaron telling me that his Dad had joked with him about it maybe being a fore-shock, instead of the actual earthquake, and we laughed at the absurdity.

Unfortunately, he was right. When I first felt the rocking on March 11th, it was fairly slight. Right as I was becoming aware of it, one of the 2nd graders inquiringly asked 'Earthquake?' The rumbling became a little more pronounced then, and the 2nd grade teacher declared it to indeed be an earthquake and told the kids to get under their desks. They did this quickly, just as they always practice, and the 2nd grade teacher dove under her desk. Again, I stood in the door frame, remembering that it was supposedly the strongest place in a building structure, and having no desk to duck under. Japanese are apparently taught different earthquake strategies, however, as the 2nd grade teacher came out from under her desk and told me to please go hide under the table in the corner of the room. I quickly obliged, taking the few steps over to that side of the room and ducking down. I was amused by her insistence, as the earthquake didn't seem that bad. Just as I squatted down under the table, though, I was glad of her perseverance.

The rumbling of the earth changed, and suddenly the intensity rocketed up. The earth seemed to literally be jumping around underneath my feet, as we all tried to hang on. In addition, there was this rocking motion, as though we were all on a large boat at sea, which wasn't that disconcerting until you remembered, suddenly, that you were ON LAND. I looked around at the kids, who were all huddled under their desks, washcloths pressed to their faces in case of a gas leak, holding on to the bottoms of their desks as they shuddered and shuffled about. Some were looking around with me, fear making their eyes huge. Others were staring determinedly at the floor, not wanting to look up and see what was going on.

The rocking motion got more intense, and the whole building started to shake. The walls waved back and forth, and the TV on wheels in the corner started rolling around wildly. Things were falling over and toppling off bookcases and desks. The windows were rattling and shaking, and the whole building was making a sort of groaning noise, like the effort to keep itself whole was proving too much for it. The table I was hiding under, unfortunately, had a large fish tank on top of it. The water in it was splashing back and forth, and I could measure the strength and intervals of the rocking motion by how badly it was making the water splash out. Miraculously, it did not shake off of the table (although it was close). It did, however, manage to deposit 3/4 of its water onto the floor, and on me.

The shaking and rocking seemed to go on forever... it lasted a good three minutes in actuality, so in my head it felt like an eternity had passed. At its worst, I honestly thought the building was going to come down on us, that it couldn't move this much, be groaning this much, and not fall apart. My mind went blank when I had that thought, and after that I just tried to hold on. Finally, the shaking started to lessen. As it slowly, almost painfully, got weaker, the kids started to whimper in fear. I was in as much shock as them, but I kept calling out from under my table to hold on, that it wouldn't be much longer, that it was going to end soon.... I think I was saying it for myself just as much as them.

At last, the shaking completely stopped. At first I thought that everything was silent, as none of the children had moved or spoken. Then I realized that I somehow hadn't heard the alarms that were going off, and I noticed that the lights had all gone out. I slowly crawled out from under my shelter, as did the 2nd grade teacher. We told the students to stay put. As we poked our heads outside the classroom, we noticed that the fire door (a thick, tall, steel wall that slides out in case of fire and blocks off one end of the school from the other) had been engaged. Then, the emergency door, the small door in the middle of the fire door, opened, and the Vice Principal of my school came through. Some of the other teachers had emerged from their classrooms as well, but none of the kids. The Vice Principal shouted out that since the intercom system was down with the power outage, he couldn't tell us sooner, but that we all needed to get outside the building, and to please exit quickly and calmly. Almost immediately the kids exited from their classrooms, formed a single file line, and together with the teachers, we all walked outside together. The teachers, myself included, ran into the staff room on the way out to grab our cell phones.

The kids were quiet, and kind of pale, although some seemed to have an odd sort of nervous energy to them. A couple of them asked me if I thought it was scary. When I admitted it was, they confessed that they were scared too. Once we had filed outside, they sat down in orderly lines, and the Vice Principal talked to them a little bit. It was bitterly cold, and we had all left without grabbing anything, including our coats. The teachers were milling about on the perimeter of the kids, talking about the earthquake and trying to get information on their cell phones. Some were trying to call their families, but the lines were down and they couldn't get through. I couldn't get through to Aaron by calling either, but thankfully the internet on my smart phone was still working, and I managed to contact him through Gchat to find out he was okay. Once I ascertained his safety, I knelt down and talked to the kids, along with a couple other teachers. They were mostly okay at this point, talking with and comforting each other, except they were all horribly cold. I originally tried to rub a 6th grade boy's arms, as he was shivering, until eventually he told me (with a stiff upper lip) that he was okay, that everyone else was cold too, so he would try his best to endure. I grinned at his attempt to be an adult, then told him to at least huddle with all the other kids for warmth, which he conceded to. I then turned my attention to a 6th grade girl, the only one who was crying out of all the kids. She had just lost her house 3 months earlier to a fire, and only her family had escaped. None of her possessions had been saved. Their new house had just been built a few weeks earlier, and the poor girl had had as much as she could take. She kept sobbing that her new house had to have fallen down, that her family had to have died, and that there was no way it was still standing after such a strong earthquake. Other girls were huddled around her, hugging her and trying to comfort her. I went over there with my phone, and showed her (uselessly, as she can't read a high level of English) that my husband had just texted me that our house was okay, and our house is really old, so if it's okay, hers has to be. She didn't understand the English I showed her, but she understood what I was saying, and tried to calm down. I joined the girls huddled around her giving her hugs.

As we sat there, shivering, two more earthquakes rocked us, making the windows of the building behind us rattle again, and the rocking motion almost knocked me off balance as I tried to stand up. The 6th grade girl wailed every time an aftershock came, her anxieties coming back each time, until we calmed her down again. Teachers who had gone back inside to grab coats for the students came running out of the building, their arms full. At some point, we heard two large, rumbling sounds coming from somewhere far off..... To this day, I don't know whether they were explosions, or possibly even the sounds of the tsunami hitting the coast 40 minutes away from us. Regardless, at the time I plastered a smile on my face and told the kids it was probably just thunder, even though there was barely a cloud in the sky.

Eventually, Aaron came to my school. It was such a relief to see him, even though all I felt I could do in front of the kids was give him a quick hug. We talked with the kids a bit, the children shyly using their limited English with him and smiling. Together with the teachers, we helped set up a giant blue tarp the kids could sit in to take shelter from the cold wind. Soon, giggles could be heard emanating from their make-shift blue tent. Parents came to pick up their kids, and as soon as they were all taken away, Aaron and I left to go check on the other English teachers in our town.

We found one still at her school, and the other one we met on the way to her apartment. None of us really wanted to be alone, so we decided that it would be best for everyone to stay at my house, as it was relatively new and only one story, both appealing things at that moment. That night, with only candles for light and piles of blankets for warmth, we all stayed in my living room, as the sliding glass doors provided the quickest exit to the outside. The after shocks continued, every hour, and I lost count of the amount of times we got up to run outside. What little sleep we managed to get in between aftershocks was poor, but it was better than staring at our phones, trying to get information about what exactly had happened and how bad it was. We found out soon enough that it was much, much worse than any of us could have predicted. With a feeling of thankfulness that I had been able to contact most of my family and friends through Facebook or e-mail, I tried to read my Kindle by candlelight, before giving up and falling into a restless sleep.