Memoirs of Tsunami - why I started this blog

It was seven years ago yesterday. I was then living in Bangkok, Thailand, working for an international relief organization. We didn’t even know what to call such magnitude of natural disaster at first. CNN breaking news that afternoon first described it as a tidal wave followed by a seaquake, one of the worst quake recorded in history.  Later that night, it was announced as a massive “tsunami” which hit the Indian Ocean affecting fifteen nations and killing nearly 250,000 lives on a quiet Sunday morning, the day after Christmas.  (See these video clips to learn more about what happened through the eyes of children: Children of Tsunami)

For millions other people, it was a devastating disaster - the world’s deadliest natural disaster in our time – which resulted in losses of loved ones, and livelihoods and communities. It left a significant mark in the course of history.  To that tsunami, I lost a dear friend and colleague in Phuket, Thailand on that day.

Carol, whose body was identified several months after the tsunami through DNA tests, is now laid in a community graveyard near Geneva, Switzerland, just a few miles away from her home village and the primary school where she had spent her childhood. I feel that a full circle is complete now as I went to Switzerland last October to visit Carol’s grave, her elderly mother and her brother, Jean Marc, who survived miraculously in that tsunami. I was finally able to name a chapter of deep pain and grief, which has never been easy to explain to anyone and but bore an amazing gift of silence in a little corner of my heart.  

 

I had an extraordinary blessing this year, through this sad and painful loss of Carol, to be asked to go to Fukushima and offer a little bit of assistance after the earthquake and tsunami and the subsequent nuclear disaster in March. One of the reasons why I started this blog is that I wanted to share stories of tsunami and nuclear disaster victims through the lens of my own experience of that painful loss and grief, and God’s gracious companionship to me throughout these years.

Tsunami is one of the worst forms of natural disaster in my opinion after many years of having worked in humanitarian aid. Within a matter of minutes and hours, the whole world you belong disappears and it never returns. It marks a moment in your life that is filled with incomprehensible and inexplicable pain and, to a degree, awe to the power of nature and its Creator.

Having visited Carol’s grave just few weeks before going back to Fukushima, my eyes and ears were attentive and eager to capture anything God was speaking to my team in Fukushima as we drove around the areas between 20-30 KM zone that was just recently open since the government lifted the stay-indoor order (see my previous blog post on November 20, 2011).

Passage of time, but no sign of progress? 

After visiting the 20KM border area, we went to see a nursing home that was destroyed by the tsunami. All residents, a few dozens of elderly men and women, were killed and the calendar on the wall had water marks and now just collecting dust since March 11. It was a moment of time travel.

The level of tsunami devastation in Fukushima was a lesser degree compared to the other two prefectures, Miyagi and Iwate, that were affected by the same disaster. But because of the nuclear disaster and the risk and fear of radiation, very little recovery action was done so far. Now Fukushima is left far behind the two other prefectures in terms of recovery and rehabilitation. Unlike victims of the nuclear disasters, those who have been displaced from their homes within the 20 KM areas from the Fukushima Dai-chi plant, tsunami victims do not get any compensations from the government other than temporary housing. 

 

Little has changed since March only there was some progress of cleanup, but no signs of recovery or promises of hope yet. Small fishing boats stuck in paddy fields miles away from the coast. 

Photo taken in mid November, 2011

Photo taken in mid April by Rev. Ishiguro in Minami-Soma city

Friends and family members of victims were wandering around looking for any personal belongings which might help them to keep the memories of lost family members and to endure this suffering of loss and pain of inability to identify their loved ones’ whereabouts.

Our eyes have seen much worse graphic images of destructive power of tsunami earlier this year and they do not capture images like these with sadness or grief.  These boring (!) and ordinary autumn scenery of brown barren fields would have not seemed so sad, have these people not had to wait for the last eight months. And they will probably have to spend many more months to come in waiting in uncertainty.  Waiting is a hard work and almost impossible if there is no hope, even if that means saying goodbyes and burying the loved ones after a painful season.