The empty town of Odaka

It's been over a week since Midori, Jonathan and I visited Odaka in Minami-Soma city with Rev. Ishiguro, but it made a very strong impact on all of us. Midori told us that the biggest shock for her was that seeing no one out on the streets because that is just so not Japanese.

People everywhere. That's what ordinary Japanese towns and villages look like, but not in Odaka. During our 2 hour long drive, we saw hardly anyone. That's the reality of life in Odaka and other places in the 20 KM evacuation zone. I tried to capture all that in the 7 minute video below (this is my very first movie!)

I had a privilege to meet Rev. Yusuke Yanagiya from Iwate who wrote the lyric of the song and it is below:

Sing to the LORD a New Song*

By Rev. Yusuke Yanagiya

A song cannot satisfy our hunger

A song cannot satisfy our hunger

It is true, it is so true.

But, let us sing together.

Our hearts may be filled.

A song cannot bring power back 

A song cannot bring power back

It is true, it is so true.

But, let us sing together.

Our hearts may be illuminated.  

A song cannot clear the rubble away 

A song cannot clear the rubble away

It is true, it is so true.

But, let us sing together.

Our hearts may be lightened. 

A song cannot build a house

A song cannot build a house

It is true, it is so true.

But, let us sing together.

Our hearts may be united.

Singing may sound hollow 

I know sometimes it feels so

But, let the tears run

Let your heart be broken

Let us sing our true feelings

Somebody there to embrace you as you are. 

A song cannot stop tsunami

No human hand could stop it

It is true, it is so true.

Therefore, let us sing together.

We may know the heart of God. 

Translation from Japanese by Yusuke Yanagiya and Midori Yanagisawa.

English edit by Jonathan Wilson and Soohwan Park. 

* This title is given by Jonathan and he describes: Events like the triple disaster in Fukushima call us back to God and to a deeper relationship with God in our pain, suffering, and disorientation. Out of that, like Israel in Psalm 96, we learn to sing a new song to the Lord.

Where is Odaka town?

I hadn't realized the disaster had been long gone from people's minds outside Fukushima even though it's been only 18 months. People asked me where Odaka town was, the place where Rev. Ishiguro drove us into the 20 KM evacuation zone. So here is the map of the 30 KM radius area from the Fukushima Daichii plant.

Events related to evacuation in chronological order

March 11, 2011:

M 9.0 earthquake and tsunami were followed by melt-downs in Fukushima Daichii nuclear plant.

March 12, 2011:

The Japanese government ordered the evacuation of more than 100,000 residents within a 20 KM radius of Fukushima Daichii nuclear plant

March 15, 2011:

The government advised residents in the 20-30 KM radius area to stay indoors and declared the area a “voluntary evacuation zone,” meaning that evacuees would receive no financial compensation.

September 30, 2011:

The voluntary evacuation zone (20-30 KM) re-opened. The Stay-Indoors order was lifted. Some residents started returning but many towns and villages are still uninhabitable.

April, 2012:

The government gradually opened some areas within the 20 KM zone wherever radiation levels are not too risky. Only daytime visits are allowed: no overnight stays. Odaka town, 12 KM northwest of the crippled nuclear plant, reopened for daytime visits.

For more detailed information: 
About Tohoku disaster overall and a larger map of the disaster affected areas, I recommend this website (http://www.jcie.org/311recovery/background.html). This is a New York based research think-tank which collected information last year from organizations (both governmental and nongovernmental) to assess the level of recovery assistance (I also received an email to provide information to them). 

Into the 20 KM Evacuation Zone

Midori, Jonathan and I went to Minami-Soma by bus. The bus went through Itate village, which was one of the 100 most beautiful villages in Japan before the 3/11 disaster, and which now has the highest radiation level in Fukushima outside the 20 KM evacuation zone (read this fascinating New Yorker article here for more information about Itate village and radiation in Fukushima). It is still almost like a ghost town with residents still unable to return.

Soil clean-up by taking off about 5 cm of topsoil and covering it with a piece of blue turf. 

The problem of radiation is far more complex than what anyone outside Fukushima can imagine. Cleaning up the radiation-contaminated soil is a big issue in Japan right now because of a 'NIMBY' culture (not in my backyard): No one wants to store the contaminated soil in their city or prefecture. Even after the government tried to get the land cleaned up and created a long-term plan to dispose the contaminated debris, there's no place to store anything outside Fukushima. Not being able to progress according to the recovery plan, Fukushima falls further and further behind. People continue to live in fear and frustration, not knowing when to go back.   

An empty clothesline and barren yard indicate that no one lives in the house.

A house with washings in the clotheslines and flowers in the garden indicates the owners have returned.

Minami-Soma is a small city north of Fukushima Daichii nuclear plant and it is probably the most complex case of post-disaster management among all disaster-affected cities in Fukushima. Shaped in a long strip along the coast, Minami-Soma has three different radiation zones on top of dealing with the aftermath of the earthquake and tsunami: the mandatory evacuation zone around 20KM area, the voluntary evacuation zone between 20-30 KM (which was lifted at the end of September last year) and the low-radiation zone from 30KM area.

I heard the news back in my last visit here in March that depending on the radiation level, some areas within the 20KM radius from the nuclear plant were open for day-time visits. Odaka town is one such open area near the Ishiguro's residence/church.

20 KM border under strict control (November 2011)

This border is open now up to Odaka town (approx. 11 KM north of the Daichii nuclear plant)

Spiders and cobweb above the gate: No one can enter.

Bike station at Odaka train station.  

People went to work in the morning after parking their bikes on March 11, 2011. But they could not come back to collect their bikes.

Weeds growing all over the the bikes

The lonely death of a dog

One of the new radiation borders 
(approx. 11 KM northwest of Fukushima Daichii, between Odaka town and Namie town)

The Sunflower Conspiracy

Soon after the disaster, the government announced that sunflower had a high level capacity to absorb radiation from the soil. But it was later found to be not true (read the news article on Asahi Daily here).

A local park reopened after cleaning up the soil 
(radio-contaminated soil is stored at a corner of the park - behind the tress on the left side in the photo)

From Listening to Dialogue: Theology in Conversation

A cycle of action and contemplation

Having worked in the NGO ministry (action oriented ministry) for 12 years, my thirst was always for more reflection, for more time for prayer and contemplation: to be still, to be silent, and simply to stop.  Having worked in an academic institution (reflection oriented ministry) for the past 4 years, I was always hungry for more action in the world: to be relevant, to be responsive and to be useful.

Through my experiences and the experiences of others whom I have observed, I have learned that action and contemplation seldom come together simultaneously.  For so many years in the past I had felt guilty for not striking a balance between action and contemplation, resentment for having too much of one or too little of the other. I finally came to reconcile with myself about this: Action and contemplation come in seasons and are rather cyclical. Wisdom lies in knowing when to do what.

For the past four trips to Fukushima, every time I came back to Vancouver, I had the privilege of having friends who are theologians be willing to listen to my encounters, my questions and my limitations and offer their prayers. Some offered their places on Galiano island where I could get away and rest in God and in his beautiful creation on the opposite side of the Pacific Ocean from Fukushima. That’s how I have been cared for by my friends. The cycle of action and reflection continued throughout the intense year since 3/11.

Jonathan Wilson is one of such friends for me in Vancouver. He is a theologian who teaches theology and ethics and is closely connected with an evangelical renewal movement in North America called the New Monasticism (click here). Because of my involvement in community development among the poor around the world, I keep a keen interest in innovative models of community building and the New Monasticism movement is one that I’ve mentioned to people in Fukushima often.

In my reflection on contemporary missional praxis, I made observations that we evangelicals lack a comprehensive theology of creation in our approaches to mission. Dealing with the unprecedented triple-disasters of Fukushima, I concluded my year-long cycle of action and contemplation with the insight that ‘loving God and loving neighbor’ must include our role in restoring God’s good creation. It is simply put in Scripture as the reconciliation of all things to God through Christ (Col 1:15-20). My other observation is that the cycle of knowledge development in theological education and mission is not fast enough to deal with challenging realities like Fukushima (I won’t argue why or how it is so in this blog). My conversations with Jonathan often ended with my question to him, “So, when is your new book coming out?” This time, rather than handing me his new book, Jonathan decided to join me in Fukushima as a co-listener and co-learner.

A circle of listening: a place of restoration

18 months have passed since the 3/11 disasters and my Japanese colleagues decided to offer space for a group listening time for pastors in Fukushima after a similar gathering they offered a year ago. Just six months after the disaster, last year’s gathering was focused on creating a space to stop, rest, and listen to God collectively. As a result of collective rest and reflection, they wrote a declaration together (click here) and formed a local entity called the Fukushima Christian Cooperation, to live up to the name of Fukushima, the Land of Gospel for the first time in history (read the story here).

This time the gathering was created to offer a small ‘stopping point’ in the midst of busy routines of post-disaster life everyday. We met at a local church in Koriyama for an extended period of lunch and sharing. We set in circle with the beautifully presented Japanese traditional lunch boxes, “Bento.”

Dr. Kanda asked two questions, and one by one Japanese pastors shared their stories.

• How has the level of radiation changed since the 3/11 disaster and what have you been doing so far?
• During this time, how has God been speaking to you?

With Midori’s translation, Jonathan took lots of notes, as his task was to provide a theological commentary on what he heard. (What unconventional things my Japanese friends always come up with: This was a completely upside-down-theological-conference!)

Everyone was pre-assigned to read Jonathan’s short essay on God’s Good World (a summary of his upcoming book) before they could register to come today. Their lives for the past 18 months have been reflected through a new lens of theology of creation below to look at themselves, their life and work in Fukushima:

• that this is God’s good world,
• that the goodness of this world is grounded in the life of the One God: Father, Son, and Spirit,
• that the life of this One God has been given to redeem the world,
• that the purpose God has given to creation—its destiny—is new creation,
• that the worst possible event in the universe has occurred—the death of the Son of God,
• that the death of the Son of God did not bring an end to the universe,
• instead, the death of the Son of God is overcome in resurrection, which guarantees the ultimate redemption and healing of the universe in New Creation. 

We went around the circle and listened to each one’s story intently (I will summarize the stories another day), but this one phrase a pastor saw on a sticker on someone's bumper summed up everything:

WE LIVE IN FUKUSHIMA. WE BELIEVE IN MIRACLES.

Life is full of surprises and often these surprises have more to do with suffering than with excitement. In those dark times of suffering, it is not easy to listen to other people’s advice (especially in Fukushima where so much deception, lies and rumors about radiation have affected innocent lives).

Good listening is not only a service, but a necessity of community life, as Bonhoeffer said to his beloved community under the dark regime of Nazi Germany. Listening to one another and listening to God. That’s how we can make the best sense of a world that is so uncertain, so chaotic and so fragile as ours is today, especially in a place like Fukushima. In my humble opinion, that is how a good solid theology develops in dialogue with life in suffering, life with Easter Hope.

The circle of listening we offered today was an act of God restoring his good creation, touching our hearts through the stories we heard.

Mr. Ajima and his land

"'Nakoso' means 'Do not come here.' Up until 150 years ago, Japanese people were not allowed to leave their own districts. Think about the freedom today, how different things are now that we can travel globally with no difficulties!"

Midori and I were walking in the village one evening when she pointed to the road sign and almost shouted with excitement. In those 150 years, many things changed indeed.  Midori is here from a faraway city called Yokohama with no restriction on travel, and I am here from 'the land of enemy' 67 years after the end of WW II. We were walking together in this tsunami-hit town in Japan that has an elderly, rapidly diminishing population (as many families with young children have left Fukushima due to the fear of radiation). 

Midori and I just spent a week to write, hang out and get to know this quiet town more closely here with no organizational agenda to visit or interview anyone. I simply wanted to experience the rhythm of life in a small town of Fukushima as people continue to strive for recovery and to move forward. After finishing the week long retreat, as we were leaving Nakoso to come back to Iwaki city I looked at the train station sign, 'Nakoso,' and I prayed to God, 'I don't know when you will bring me here to Nakoso town again, maybe in one year, or maybe in 10 years? Or I may never come back, true to the name, Nakoso. I leave this place and the people of this land to you.'  

Nakoso Station

This morning we joined the worship at Nakoso Christ Church in Iwaki where Rev. Sumiyoshi works. I wrote the stories of this church a few times, especially following Rev. Sumiyoshi's powerful encounter with Jesus in his dream after the disaster last year (click here) and his vision to follow a Korean Christian martyr who was killed in the prison during the Japanese occupation in Korea (click here).  After the service we were invited for lunch with the Sumiyoshi's, and we talked about agriculture and land issues in Fukushima. 

Today for the first time, Rev. Sumiyoshi shared his vision of restoring an agricultural village in Fukushima and showed us the land he's been thinking of. For the past few years he has been building a relationship with the owner of this land. Then the disaster happened last year so everything stopped. We drove for about 15 minutes and arrived at the Nakoso station again to park his car! (I couldn't believe my eyes first that God had brought me back here just 26 hours after I had prayed!) 

We started walking along narrow paths past some houses and ended up in the field where I'd taken pictures while I went for walks a few times last week! 

Rev. Sumiyoshi in his big smile after hearing my story of walking around this field last week

"There's a place we should go." We got in the car and he drove us without saying where we were going. We stopped the car in front of a house and an old man came and Rev. Sumiyoshi introduced me to him, as the owner of the land, Mr. Ajima. 

Mr. Ajima showing Rev. Sumiyoshi plaques of his former students

A retired English teacher who had taught for 50 years in Nakoso, Mr. Ajima received us gladly and was happy for a chance to brush up his English with a stranger (this is a rather unusual happening because Japanese do not normally visit people's homes without prior appointments). 

"You have a beautiful piece of land!"

I told him that I was praying for him last week when I was walking through his field. He was very happy to hear that and told us about the history of his land. I also told him that I'd continue to pray for him and his land, and wished God's blessing for him before we left. I gave thanks to God for Mr. Ajima and for his land and for Rev. Sumiyoshi's vision to work with such a holistic vision in his community. 

Fukushima in August

I am in Fukushima again, my fifth trip here since the 3/11 disaster last year. Being here in August is more emotional than any other month of the year because historically August is full of intense meaning for Japan and Korea. 

August 29th, 1910 was the day when the Japan-Korea Annexation Treaty was officially announced after it was secretly and forcefully signed a week before on August 22nd. It was a treaty between the Empire of Japan and the Empire of Korea. Yes, Korea was an empire for a very short period, from 1897 to 1910. 1897 was just over a decade after Protestant missionaries came to Korea. A lot of efforts to westernize (or modernize) the nation were put in during these short years, until the Japanese colonization of Korean peninsula began officially. (On a side note, the biggest blessing out of the many tragedies that happened during this dark era of Korean history is that Korean Christians had to work very hard to make sense of their faith and expand their understanding of the bible and the God of the bible with very little help from outside, because the Cross did not come with swords like in many other nations of that time, but it was the power to resist the kingdom of swords.)

As we all know, Japan was defeated in World War II in August 1945 after the two tragic atomic bombings on August 6th in Hiroshima, and August 9th in Nagasaki. The Japanese emperor surrendered on August 15th, 1945, which brought Korea's independence on the same day. It was also the day the Parallel 38 was drawn by the Alliance (and then UN) between the North and South to demilitarize Japanese presence in the peninsula. 

However, the treaty of 1910 was only brought to an end in 1965 by the Treaty on Basic Relations between Japan and the Republic of Korea, which then became the root cause of current disputes and tension between Japan and Korea. This year, the two nations have had another intense August on the issue of Dok-Do (meaning: Island of solitude or isolation), Korea's easternmost territory and a couple other unresolved issues of the past. Political leaders of both nations are provoking unhealthy sensitivities all over again. Some experts believe that this is the greatest tension since 1965. 

The Fukushima Dai-ichii nuclear disaster has now transformed into anti-nuke protests in Tokyo since March (around the first anniversary of the 3/11 disaster). Over ten thousand people gathered to protest earlier this month as Japan remembers the tragedies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and now Fukushima. Thousands of people still gather in front of Prime Minister's Office every Friday.  

I am in the small town of Nakoso in Fukushima, a coastal village located about 40 KM south of the crippled nuclear plant. Life on the ground seems to be moving very quietly here in Fukushima while voices of protest seem to echo louder in Tokyo, just like the energy produced by the Fukushima plants was only for people in Tokyo. 

After Midori and I arrived here last week, we were told that Nakoso beach was the only beach in Fukushima that was open to the public for three weeks in August, the peak vacation season in Japan. But less than 10% of the number of visitors came when compared how many used to come here annually prior to the disaster. We went out for walks to the village and to the beach. More villagers seem to be back now than when we visited twelve months ago. Houses are fixed and shops are back in business.

No matter what is going on politically outside Fukushima at the moment, it is nevertheless a beautiful piece of God's creation in the tail end of another hot summer.

A long stretch of quiet beach, Nakoso 

Fukushima Thermal Power Plant 

Many people outside Japan mistakenly think that the Fukushima Dai-ichii plant, which is owned by Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCO), was producing power for Fukushima. It was actually producing power for Tokyo. This small thermal plant in the photo produces electricity for Fukushima.     

Weeds growing in a completely destroyed house 

As we were walking on the bank I noticed many houses were missing on the beachfront. Most houses were fixed and people had moved back in, but empty lots indicated the owners were missing. Some neighbours planted flowers and vegetables in the empty lots.

Tomato plants

Sunflowers and lilies

Tsunami warning house (?) - this is a new building that did not exist last year.

Several houses were disappeared and the owners never came back. 

Local cemetery and a vegetable garden side by side in the village

A house under renovation

Fukushima now has the highest rate of abandoned land due to the radiation

Some local farmers still planted vegetables and crops 

A local restaurant back in business (it was closed last year)

Sunset in the neighbourhood 

Full moon