9.0

As I sit here listening to Adele’s “Hometown Glory”, I can’t help but feel such pride for the dynamic, and even dull cities in the Los Angeles area that I call home. I can’t phrase this sentiment any better than with Adele’s lyrics about visiting home, “Round my hometown, memories are fresh. Round my hometown, ooh, the people I've met are the wonders of my world...” Yes, the wonders of my world. “The wonders of this world.” No matter where you go, no matter who you meet, you will carry some people forever. And they will captivate, amaze and enamor you more than anything else you'll ever come to know. So, when I look at the images of the destroyed coastal villages in the aftermath of the terrible Tohoku earthquake, I can’t help but think that someone’s hometown glory has been tarnished. What’s worse, many people, many “wonders of [someone’s] world” have been lost to the fury of the sea. What a terrible and deep loss.

For us here in the Kansai region of Japan, it’s almost unbelievable that a little more than 500 kilometers away, villages have been destroyed down to wooden planks, ashes, and belongings, all scattered away from their owners and proper places. Yet, whether it's hard to believe or not, it is a reality in numerous prefectures in Northern Japan.

When the earthquake hit, I was sitting at my desk in the school staffroom. I didn’t feel the earthquake. If I remember correctly, my area felt the earthquake at a magnitude of 3 on the Richter Scale. But as I said, I didn't feel anything. The only indication that something was wrong was from the messages I received from people back home. They were coming in quickly, as people wanted reassurance that I was fine and out of harm's way. I didn’t realize the extent of the disaster, until I saw the devastating images later that evening. The same images that had shocked viewers around the globe, and had prompted my family and friends to write to me. I received so many messages from family, friends and acquaintances inquiring about my well-being. It was heartwarming to see how many people cared, and took the time to write a message.

I won't deny it though, the constant messaging made me worry, because some messages I received were alarming, and asked me to come home, while others made me feel that the problem was more grave than the actual situation (regarding the nuclear plant in Fukushima). Because of all of the fear swimming around me, I was a mild case of nerves in the week following the earthquake, and it was hard to fall asleep at night. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone at home, because I felt that only the people here could understand my emotions. Sure enough, many ALTs were able to relate, and I found comfort in talking to them. I also did some research on radiation and the current state of the nuclear plant. It is true that the nuclear plant in Fukushima presents a danger, but I have faith in the men currently risking their lives to repair the damage. I can’t predict what will happen, but I have taken precautions to be as prepared as possible. Prepare for the worse, hope for the best.

Other foreigners have not approached the situation in such a cool-headed manner. So many people have left the country in an anxious flurry to escape the radiation. I don’t blame those around the nuclear plant for panicking, not at all. I probably would have done the same. However, I know of some people near me that have been forced by sponsors or parents to go home. I think this fear stems from sensationalist headlines abroad. There has been a scramble to acquire iodine pills, in order to combat radiation. People as far as the United States and Canada are panicking about the radiation. It is a small world, after all, but there is no reason for panicking. None. And yet, according to an article in The Economist, a packet of iodine pills that usually costs $10 was priced at more than $500 dollars online. Ugly panic. On the other end of that equation, it’s sickening to think that some people take advantage of people’s fears in order to make quick cash. Furthermore, it creates a low supply for those that are near the plant and might need to take them in the future. Here, in my area, I’ve noticed empty shelves in the water aisles in supermarkets. People are storing bottled water in their homes. Now that, I don’t blame the people of Japan for doing. This is directly affecting their nation.

Risk. I mentioned that the workers in Fukushima are risking overexposure to radiation. Risk is associated with solutions and discoveries. So, some people fear that I risk my health by staying here. I beg to differ, but there is some truth in their words. Anytime you leave home, you tamper a bit with uncertainty. Some people never go abroad, because of the fear of the unknown. Yet, I think that the pros of traveling and living abroad outweigh the possibility of disaster (which can happen in our own hometowns anyway.) Yesterday, I read a well-written article from The New York Times about why we travel. I find that the opening paragraph gives a good enough argument in itself, without disposing of reality. It is as follows:

“In the bungling and bellicosity that constitute the back and forth of history, worsened by natural disasters and unprovoked cruelty,  humble citizens pay the highest price. To be a traveler in such circumstances can be inconvenient at best, fatal at worst. But if the traveler manages to breeze past such unpleasantness on tiny feet, he or she is able to return home to report: 'I was there. I saw it all.' The traveler’s boast, sometimes couched as a complaint, is that of having been an eyewitness, and invariably this experience — shocking though it may seem at the time — is an enrichment, even a blessing, one of the life-altering trophies of the road.”

Indeed, in this recent disaster, ordinary people have paid the highest price. And true to this article, for some travelers, the tsunami was a fatal occurrence. An American woman, a fellow JET, passed away in the aftermath of the earthquake. I wish she could have left Japan enriched, and blessed with a new experience after being adventurous enough to leave home. Instead, we are left with a heavy heart as we long for an alternate ending. I know I speak on behalf of ALTs here, that our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends.

In times like this, it’s necessary to look at stories of survival, and to capture and radiate the smallest rays of hope. There’s no use in letting sorrow make us numb and weak. There are ways to channel that energy in order to help, with the end of restoring hope in the people who have been affected firsthand. First, we can donate money and materials, in order to ease the suffering of those in northeast Japan. Secondly, we must not forget about the disaster. I worry that months from now the victims will be forgotten and the ongoing needs will be regarded as a thing of the past. Let’s not allow that to happen.

There's no place in the world where we can be one-hundred percent safe from risk and danger. You take chances, in order to be rewarded with experiences and knowledge. In the end, if you don’t overcome your fears, they will overcome you. I don’t know about you, but that’s NOT a risk I’m willing to take.


Here are some of the articles I referenced, and a couple of others that I found interesting:

The Economist: Herd Behaviour

The New York Times: Why We Travel

The Washington Post: In Ishinomaki, Japan, stories of survival and loss

BBC News: Q&A: Health effects of radiation exposure

Links and ways to help Japan (if you have more, please add them as a comment! Thanks!):

American Red Cross

Japanese Red Cross