地震

I am okay.

Thank you for all your concern, and I really mean that. I am fine, Nagoya is fine, my friends are fine. We have been going about our daily routines as usual. Classes are still being held with no signs of change. Nanzan University and my program are running business as they always have, and have assured everyone that Nagoya is in no immediate danger and evacuation is not necessary. I'm on spring break, and the four of us got back from Kyoto a couple of days ago. Everything is still open, people are still shopping and eating out and living their lives.

But up north the images are much, much different, and the sense of detachment that comes from living in Nagoya and yet knowing that, 270 or so miles north of this city, entire towns don't exist anymore and people are freezing, starving and wandering around with nowhere to go, is scary and frustrating at the same time. My heart goes out to those people, to that part of this country that I have been calling home for years and years. They have been here much longer than I have, and this disaster has affected them in the most direct and terrible way.

I read the news every day, morning and night, whenever I can. And by the news I mean practically every resource of information available. I'm reading American news (and I'm disappointed in it, but more on that later), I'm reading the BBC, I'm reading Al Jazeera, I'm reading the Japan Times and NHK World and bravenewclimate.com (for the science stuff; it's an incredibly honest resource) and the military newspaper, Stars & Stripes. I'm trying to be informed not only because I live here, but because I don't want to leave. And I know inherently that there's no reason for me to go because I am safe in this city, but I have to know why.

Here's what happened, from my point of view:

On Friday, around 3 PM, my entire Japanese Politics class thought we were all having vertigo until someone noticed the blinds swaying. It was an aftershock of the 9-magnitude earthquake off the coast of Sendai, though we didn't know that until much later. At the time we simply stayed in our seats and just waited it out. The aftershock lasted about a minute--the longest earthquake I've ever felt in my 7ish years here.

Then an announcement came over the loudspeaker, the same one three times in a row, saying that the quake we'd just experienced had been a 3 on the Japan scale, which is about a 5 on the Richter scale. The end of the announcement said, "Everyone, please calm down."

I received a text from that moment from Massiel in the computer lab that read, "That was an aftershock from an 8.7 in Tokyo."

My teacher tried to go on with class after telling us a couple of earthquake stories, but we had another tiny aftershock after the first one--this one lasted about 10 seconds. This time we could tell that something was out of place. Soon enough one of the administrators from the exchange student program came by our classroom to tell our teacher that northern Japan had just had a massive earthquake; at the time it was a 6 on the Japan scale, which is about an 8 on the Richter.

Our teacher told us that the epicenter was apparently Sendai; Massiel texted me again to say she'd heard it was Morioka, which is roughly in the same region.

At this point class was actually over, and Rachael and I started texting people we knew in Tokyo and Sendai to see if they were okay. They received our texts sporadically; my friend didn't get hers until later that night, Rachael's text arrived at its connecting phone about an hour after she'd sent it.

At this point my brother called, saying he'd already had about half our family call him because they couldn't reach me--I'm still not sure why, because he lives in Hawaii, but....anyway, he asked if I was alright and I told him that yeah, we'd had an aftershock but that was all. He asked if we were being evacuated, if there were any plans to move us out, if the school was doing anything. I said no, because that was the truth.

Rachael went home. I met up with Massiel in my dorm and called her dad and my parents through Skype in my room (she wasn't allowed to come up with me; it's dorm policy). It was around 2 AM in the States, but everyone was awake. My mom said she'd had people call her already asking how I was. My dad said he was watching the news but knew I was fine. Massiel's dad hadn't heard about the earthquake, but he said he would call her mom and tell her she was fine.

Then I went downstairs and Massiel and I watched the news. We watched the tsunami footage--Sendai Airport engulfed by debris and water, entire homes off the coast being swept away like nothing, cars floating along the waves like they were weightless. We watched the fires, everything on fire, buildings and ports and homes. We watched the earthquake footage from the NHK office in Sendai over and over again, so many times that we could count the seconds until the woman grasped the table to keep herself steady as cabinets flung open and books and papers fell to the floor.

As the hours passed, the details became clearer. We learned of the real epicenter, the real magnitude (that was soon to increase) and of the immediate damage in Northern Honshu. Massiel and I had dinner out that night, and every television screen in the restaurant had a color-coded, flashing map of Japan indicating tsunami warnings. Nagoya was pink; we had a chance of a tsunami. But really, we're too high above sea level for anything to hit past the port.

After that I can't remember days, only moments. I don't keep a diary, I just go with the days, and all I can I recall now are news articles and more earthquake footage and my deep desire to do something. All I've done so far is donate, and I know the money counts, but for awhile--and even now--I still want to go to the Tohoku region and just help. Clear rubble. Give out food. Help the lost. Help the lonely. Give out blankets. Find shelter for those who don't have any. Give a prayer, an outstretched hand, a smile. Give something positive. Because I might just be an idealist, but I still believe in the power of positivity.

And then the nuclear reactor situation started to grow out of control in the hands of the media, and I spent most of my days frustrated because Western journalism portrayed the occurrence as the imminent death of Japan. But it wasn't. From the beginning it was a problem, yes, and a very serious one at that. Then it took a turn for the worse and I can't say I wasn't worried. But the way the Western media told the story, it was "The entirety of Japan is affected, radiation is spreading throughout the country and there will be a nuclear meltdown. Everyone will have to be evacuated." I've heard stories that this was going to be the next Chernobyl, that I would not be able to eat the food here anymore, that the wind would blow nuclear fallout directly to my doorstep. According to a number of supposedly trustworthy news sources, the Fukushima nuclear situation was the near-end of Japan.

But it wasn't. It isn't. It is still a big problem and it is still underway (though recently coming under more control). From the start, however, the whole of Japan was never affected, nor about to be affected, by any sort of nuclear fallout. The case is localized to the Fukushima area and its surroundings in a 30-50 kilometer range, and maybe a little more than that, but barely beyond. Radiation levels outside of the area are totally safe and are background, which is no more than what one receives from the natural environment. Tokyo, while experiencing food/gas shortages and blackouts, is actually completely safe from any health concerns caused by radiation.

I am disappointed that a large number of the foreign population has shifted their attention to the nuclear reactors when in fact the real disaster lies, as it always has, in the earthquake-damaged areas. I'm not saying that people have completely forgotten about it; I know that's not the case at all. But there are so many who are solely preoccupied by the reactor situation--something they can't help in any way--that they're no longer thinking, at least in the forefront of their minds, about the people up north who no longer have food, water, shelter, family or even a town to call home because it was entirely destroyed by the tsunami.

Instead, the Western media has propagated a sense of panic. Because of that panic, numerous colleges have terminated their programs for fear of nuclear fallout in areas 250+ miles away from Fukushima, though geographically and scientifically such a happening is nearly impossible. Because of that panic, nearly 8000 people have chosen to depart from US military bases on mainland Japan.

And for what? Safety, when nothing was really happening in the first place? Caution, when all signs point to safety in the areas outside of Fukushima and its evacuation zone?

(Though to believe in blind safety is, of course, wrong. Food is contaminated, after all, and so is the tap water in some areas. Being informed and knowing what's harmful and what isn't is crucial. But simply walking outside in Tokyo will not give you any risk of breathing in dangerous amounts of radiation.)

I am not leaving until the US Embassy or Nanzan University (which issued a statement instructing exchange students to inform their parents and home universities that Nagoya is safe and not in any danger) tells me I have to. UNC has requested that I come home, but I said no. I believe I am in no imminent danger by staying here, and unless the time comes that I am and it is in my best interest to evacuate, I will not leave before May 22nd.

Meanwhile, nearly half of the CJS exchange student program has gone home involuntarily due to terminations. According to what I've heard from other universities in the area, some students are even being threatened with expulsion if they don't return home. I have friends waiting out the situation in China and other areas of Asia, with either round-trip tickets back to Nagoya or plans to return as soon as the situation clears up.

This is far from over. The number of dead and missing has topped 21,000, and it rises every day. When I pass magazine racks all I see are photos of the destroyed areas; entire cities flattened to dust and rubble. I don't turn on the television any more because I know I won't be able to watch anything but the news--not because there isn't anything else on, but because I will only feel like watching the news. When I talk with my friends we always end up discussing the aftermath of the quake and the Fukushima situation.

And yet everything that has happened in the last seven or so days has amazed me in the way one takes in a world of things, closes their eyes, takes a deep breath and looks up again only to find that Japan is doing its very best to recover from a natural disaster that nearly stripped all feelings of hope from an entire country. Nearly, but not.

So I donate--time, money, thoughts. I stay informed. I pray. And I ask you to do the same.