A letter from Fukushima

This is a letter from Robert Gilhooly after his visit to Fukushim.  This is something you don't read or hear from the media in the UK or Japan. 

Since the earthquake and tsunamis struck Japan's northeast on March 11, I have spent some time in the affected region. It goes without saying that it has been a distressing few months, meeting people who have suffered terrible tragedy. 

In recent visits there have been more positive signs of mental and physical recovery – children returning to school, fish markets recommencing operations, people who lost their homes being transferred from evacuation shelters to temporary housing.Yet, there are some communities outside of the tsunami-hit areas that may never recover, and may, indeed, simply continue to be ghost towns. 

On my most recent visit I visited a school in Otama town about 60 km from the damaged Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant. The school had recently removed the top soil from the playground for fear of the long-term impact of elevated radiation levels on the pupils. Play time outdoors had been reduced to 1 hour per day, and some parents were not letting their children out of their homes at all, other than to attend classes.

The people in the village had barely been affected by the magnitude 9 earthquake and certainly not by the tsunami – at least not directly. Yet, parents had pressed the local education authorities to take precautions for the sake of their children, despite the fact that radiation levels in the town were still below those considered permissable.

Among the children at the school were a handful who had been evacuated from a town about 4 miles from the nuclear power plant. Several weeks before I had visited that town and found it desserted. In the gardens of houses some of there were toys that some of these children had played with and stray or dead dogs that they had once petted.

Meanwhile, the residents of pretty Tomioka town were being transported to a temporary shelter up in the hills above Otama's primary school. When I arrived the 100 people who have made the  shelter their home for the past 10 weeks or so were awaiting the arrival of three popular comedians who were visiting to try to lift their spirits. One of the celebrities – himself a Fukushima native – sang a traditional local song. The residents clapped along, many moved to tears by the gesture.

After the entertainers left, each wiping away tears as they climbed into their chauffeur-driven limos, I talked with some of the residents, many of whom had rushed from their homes in Tomioka so hastily they had not even had time to switch off the lights.

One lady in her 60s was looking after her two small grandchildren, one aged 4, the other 18 months. The childrens' mother and father had moved to a town in another part of the prefecture in order to secure jobs and were only able to visit the children on weekends.

“This is how it is – little by little our community is falling apart,” she said. “It's not bad enough that we have lost our homes. We also are being separated from our loved ones and friends.”

Another resident said that he had been sickened by the images of devastation caused by the tsunamis, but that the situation of Tomioka residents was in some ways even more dire: “At some stage the people on the coasts will rebuild. We, however, may never be allowed to go back home.”

In a more serious moment during the earlier entertainment, one of the three comedians had urged the Tomioka residents to fight on and get the compensation they deserved out of Tokyo Electric Power Company, the company running the leaking power plant.

I asked some of the residents if they intended to follow his suggestion, but they were unsure exactly how they could. One man said that he and his wife would be moved to accommodation about 700 km away, though there teenage children would remain in Fukushima to continue their education. Another woman said her family, who had all previously lived in Tomioka, were already “disbanded” -- some were with relatives in Tokyo, others working for a company in around 300 km north of Otama. She herself would be staying with other relatives about 50 km away.

“We want to keep in touch with family and friends, but there are no computers here, no way of sending mails or using Skype, and so on.” This meant, she said, that there was also limited access to outside news and information that might help them in their coming fight for compensation.

I have since been trying to find someone who could perhaps help these people by supplying them with computers. If there is any way that you can help, I be happy to assist in any way I can.

Rob Gilhooly 2011