My part of Japan (Okayama) is OK. My neighbors to the north's part of Japan is not OK. I didn't feel like typing, so I said a few things to the webcam in my laptop. It's 10 minutes long. I had some stuff to say.
I mentioned some pictures. Pictures are worth a thousand words, which is good because even after all the images stuck in my mind the past two and a half weeks, these leave me speechless. Go have a look. Dang.
I also mentioned giving and said that I'd include in this post, too, links from last post. So, here they are.
Maggie's Favorite Ways to Help (Again)
Second Harvest Japan is a national food bank that collects perfectly good food that would otherwise be wasted, but they are now accepting donations of both items and money for the earthquake affected areas.
Japan Earthquake Animal Rescue and Support (Facebook info page and donation page) and is a coalition of three no-kill shelter groups that were in existence before this tragedy, and they are rescuing and reuniting pets in the affected area.
Socks for Japan (and here on Facebook, and here in Japanese) or is an effort based in Tochigi to deliver socks with notes of encouragement to those in shelters. The FAQs alone provide interesting insight into why it is often best to donate money instead of goods but also how in this case sending socks is a good and doable thing. Seriously, check out this update post. If nothing else, I promise that you will feel good reading it and seeing how huge of an impact a small gesture can make. I promise. I had already sent a box of socks, but this made me want to send even more.
The Red Cross seems to pretty much be there anytime something bad happens. Back in the States long ago, a friends house burnt down, and they were there to help. That was small scale. You know they are everywhere for the huge scale, too. You can, of course give money. If you are eligible and so inclined, it is free to give blood. If you are in Japan, the blood goes here, I think. If not, it can still be a nice way to give, and I went that route so that I could spend a little more money to support some of these smaller organizations. Win-win-win (me, those needing money, those needing blood).
3000 Letters for Japan was started by a member of the JET program, and it is a letter-writing/picture drawing/cheer sharing project aimed at the elementary and junior high school students in the hard hit area of Miyagi prefecture. If you or people you know want to help in some way that does not cost more than the price of sending letters, this is a great project. I think it would also be great for groups and schools wanting to do something but perhaps not having an abundance of resources. If you do this, please see the guidelines. Keep the message cheerful and the English very simple. These are kids. Some are too young to read, and others have just started learning English. Colorful pictures and drawings go a long way. If you sign the letter, they will probably love it more than I can explain. If you really want to do this, but money is tight enough that you need help with the cost of shipping some letters this way, I will see what I can do to help. Let's don't go crazy, now. I cannot finance heavy boxes of correspondence, but I am happy to help a bit if I can and if you need. Holler.
Thank you so much for your comments on my last post. I haven't been around to any blogs lately, but, really, still, thank you.
A little more to say today. Actually from yesterday already two days ago when I started writing this and much of it thoughts from last week. Just some reflections, then, I guess, for me, mostly, and you, too, if you care to wander around in my mind. This, too will be rambly. If you like that kind of thing, read on. If not, check back later, maybe.
I'm sitting at my desk at school where everything continues to be life as usual, at least on the surface. Last week I found it exhausting and almost impossible to stand up in front of a bunch of junior high kids and teach classes as if nothing was happening. I felt sort of like a whiny brat on the inside that everyone else seemed to be more easily able to go about the school day like normal. I didn't mean to. It's just that when it started snowing as if it was mid-winter (we rarely get snow here, even in winter), I had to hide the fact that my eyes were welling up knowing that people in the north had no heat. This on top of That, I thought. Salt in the wound. I didn't want to be all depressive and weird, but it was all I could think about. I'll be honest, I still think more about it every time I turn on a light, bump up the heat, put on warmer clothes or dump the last swallow of the glass of water I didn't want. The day it snowed, everyone around me appeared to just delight in watching the snow fall, the way we would have back in January, back when pretty much everyone in Japan had some access to warming basics for winter.
Part of it, despite what a friend who often knows everything tried to tell me, is that all of the teachers I teach with told me that they do not know anyone in the affected areas. I do think it makes a difference in terms of spinning your mind in circles trying to find out information about particular people and thinking of something, anything that you can do to help them as opposed to still being generally heartbroken for the whole set of people affected by this tragedy but without names of individuals on your mind.
Maybe my friend is right that I'm full of shit. Don't care, really. I just know that it was super difficult for me to walk into a classroom and teach when I knew that my friend and sons were safe but didn't know if they were cold or hungry and whether they'd want to come down to where I am for any period of time, when I knew that their husband/father was on his way but didn't know how the heck he'd get up there with no airport, trains not operating and gas scarce and wanting to be available if I could somehow be of help (he has good friends up that way and even more determination, but still, if I could help in any way, I kept saying...). It bothered me that other JETs were still missing (as I write this, one was first reported safe, then missing, and later found to have not made it; another still remains missing), and I kept checking to see if they were OK. I didn't know them, but I imagined how scary it would have been to not only go through such a thing but to also go through it so far from family and possibly with a language barrier. Of course I mourned for everyone's losses. They are no less tragic. Please don't misunderstand when I say that it's just that I felt a kind of connection to these names of others I'd never met but who were here doing the same thing I am. It just hit closer to home, is all, I guess. I cannot explain it further. I hope that makes some sense.
In any case, I wanted to blissfully focus on other things, but it was hard not to think of folks who didn't have the luxury of looking away and tuning it out for awhile. The teachers around me handled it like pros and didn't seem to flinch. The other part of why maybe I struggled to act normal, aside from my belief that my knowing someone made it a little more difficult to focus on other stuff, is that my co-workers know much more than I do about how to gaman and gambaru as a means of dealing with Very Bad Things. They have been learning this forever. Japanese culture has taught them this throughout their lives. I don't know for sure, but I think maybe this made it look like they were contentedly engrossed in the "life as normal" work routine.
Described better than I can here, it goes like this:
Doing One’s Best (Ganbaru)
There are two main concepts of achievement orientation that can be observed almost everywhere in Japan. The most important concept is ganbaru. Ganbaru translates as doing one’s best or never giving up, but it is a bit more involved than this. It also means to finish a task and to never stop until a goal is achieved. Ganbaru is an active process, meaning that one has to try as hard as possible to reach a certain goal. There are many hurdles and examinations in every Japanese person’s life, and to try to overcome these obstacles (even if not successful) is a most important task. People following ganbaru try to achieve a goal or fulfill a difficult task even if it might be very painful. In Japanese society it is considered a weakness to give up a plan or to look for an easier option. Trying as hard as one can (e.g., working very hard to get into a good company or university) is seen as a virtue.
Endurance (Gaman)
The second concept that is worth discussing is gaman. Gaman refers to the ability to withstand and bear something unpleasant that cannot be changed right away and that one has no control over. Going to work on a very crowded Tokyo train during rush hour is a situation where people usually gaman. But gaman can also be seen at the workplace, where people keep working even if they would rather not stay as long as their boss.
Ganbaru and gaman differ from each other. Where ganbaru is an active process and requires people to do something to achieve their goals, gaman is passive and focuses more on enduring and not complaining. However, both concepts are the major reason for Japan’s successful development after World War II. Even today, working hard and trying one’s best are viewed as good attributes, and a good employee is a person who is trying to dedicate as much time and energy to the firm as possible. Ganbaru is the reason for the unbelievable motivation that many Japanese show when it comes to work.
Believe me, neither of these words were new to me. Anyone who has been here more than 5 minutes has heard or been told or told someone to "ganbatte" or "ganbare," conjugations of gambaru which both translate roughly to "good luck" or "hang in there," depending on the situation.
Also, depending on the situation, being told to "ganbatte" has either encouraged me or annoyed me and made me feel in some whiny assed way that whatever concerns I had were not being taken seriously but that I was being told I should shut up and deal with it. You can see how useful "gambatte" can be!
So, here we were, headed to class, the JTE (Japanese Teacher of English) and I, and I felt comfortable enough saying that I was heartbroken, that I had a friend up there with kids and that I didn't know if they were warm and had food and that there were other JETs up there still missing and that generally, I was having a hard time being my usual cheerful and genki (enthusiastic, energetic, lively, happy, healthy all in one) self while knowing what was going with our neighbors to the north.
The JTE said to me the very thing I'd wondered about and didn't know I needed to hear until I did. He said "we all feel the same, but we must ganbaru."
I was relieved to hear him say that they, too, were just doing a great job of pretending on the outside not to be devastated inside. It had been really weird and confusing to me coming from a culture where we are encouraged to express ourselves and our feelings more outwardly. Japan takes the cake on being stoic. Also, to my surprise, instead of feeling stung as if it was the "shut up and deal with it" version of gambaru, for the first time, finally, after all this time, I think I instantly got it in a different way and on a different level than I had before, and I knew that he was right. It's not like we could just sit around feeling our feelings and crying and not teach classes. The students were there. It was our job to teach them.
Whether I felt like it or not inside, I just needed to buck up. For the sake and good of the whole of Japan. Even. Somehow. Kinda. I'm still learning about all this. I feel it differently, but I am not sure I can explain it so well just yet.
There is much work to be done in Japan, starting with finding more of the staggering number of people missing and getting this unsettling nuclear issue handled and sorted and getting sufficient provisions to the hundreds of thousands living in shelters (some still without electricity and heat), and that's before we even get into all the aspects of truly moving forward and rebuilding.
Whether I will ever completely be able to pull off the incredible amount of stoicism I see around me, or whether I would ever really want to change it about myself that I just don't have that cultural training, I think I've come to understand Japan a little differently on the bigger scale of what always puzzled me a bit on the smaller scale. Stuff like how the elementary school kids here often wear shorts on the way to school in winter to toughen them up (I'm never sure if Japan is pulling my leg when people tell me that's the reason). This is how Japan works, and it works for Japan. Japan will put on a brave face and will be OK. It's just what they DO.
Of course, I have much more to say. And, again, maybe I will. Or not. I can't promise. For now, I'm just walking around with a stiff upper lip during the day and going home and finding hopeful stories or charities to support while I cry in my bowl of miso soup for this country that I love and hope that Japan gets well soon. Maybe the teachers at my school are doing the same. Maybe not. Either way, it's really none of my goddamn business, anyway, what they are doing if they don't want to openly tell me. It's weird to even admit that I am this affected when I am nowhere near where anything bad has been going on. I worry that you will think that I am trying to paint myself as a victim of something by even admitting how sad I am for Japan and everyone in the affected areas when I am trying to say the exact opposite. Still, I want to say these things. I want to trust that you might get it and not judge me for being human and putting my feelings on display.
Last thing. I mentioned some ways to help the other day, but I want to really highlight them by listing my favorite ones here. This is not an exhaustive list of the good ones I've seen, just the ones that I personally have supported and would come to mind if a friend asked me. Good thoughts and nice prayers are good, but I can't help but think that good deeds will have a more direct and personal impact. One of these is almost free. In fact, if money is an issue on that one, holler, and I pledge, within reason, to make it free for you. More on that in a sec. Here we go.
Maggie's Favorite Ways to Help
Second Harvest Japan is a national food bank that collects perfectly good food that would otherwise be wasted, but they are now accepting donations of both items and money for the earthquake affected areas.
Japan Earthquake Animal Rescue and Support (Facebook info page and donation page) and is a coalition of three no-kill shelter groups that were in existence before this tragedy, and they are rescuing and reuniting pets in the affected area.
Socks for Japan (and here on Facebook, and here in Japanese) or is an effort based in Tochigi to deliver socks with notes of encouragement to those in shelters. The FAQs alone provide interesting insight into why it is often best to donate money instead of goods but also how in this case sending socks is a good and doable thing. Seriously, check out this update post. If nothing else, I promise that you will feel good reading it and seeing how huge of an impact a small gesture can make. I promise. I had already sent a box of socks, but this made me want to send even more.
The Red Cross seems to pretty much be there anytime something bad happens. Back in the States long ago, a friends house burnt down, and they were there to help. That was small scale. You know they are everywhere for the huge scale, too. You can, of course give money. If you are eligible and so inclined, it is free to give blood. If you are in Japan, the blood goes here, I think. If not, it can still be a nice way to give, and I went that route so that I could spend a little more money to support some of these smaller organizations. Win-win-win (me, those needing money, those needing blood).
3000 Letters for Japan was started by a member of the JET program, and it is a letter-writing/picture drawing/cheer sharing project aimed at the elementary and junior high school students in the hard hit area of Miyagi prefecture. If you or people you know want to help in some way that does not cost more than the price of sending letters, this is a great project. I think it would also be great for groups and schools wanting to do something but perhaps not having an abundance of resources. If you do this, please see the guidelines. Keep the message cheerful and the English very simple. These are kids. Some are too young to read, and others have just started learning English. Colorful pictures and drawings go a long way. If you sign the letter, they will probably love it more than I can explain. If you really want to do this, but money is tight enough that you need help with the cost of shipping some letters this way, I will see what I can do to help. Let's don't go crazy, now. I cannot finance heavy boxes of correspondence, but I am happy to help a bit if I can and if you need. Holler.
Still more to say. Maybe later. Considering doing another vlog. It feels easier to talk than to type out the things I want to say. While I'm at it, if you are wondering about some aspect of this whole big mess, I probably can't give you the technical details, but I don't mind sharing my thoughts. Or you can just let me ramble aimlessly. That works, too.
Go hug someone today, OK? Let's spread a whole bunch of love around and cherish people that make us smile and then go make others smile. Peace.
After my last post on the day IT happened, I'm still speechless, really. Yet I have so much to say. This week has been a sad blur of tears, heartbreak, worry, compassion, deeper understanding of the Japanese spirit, new friends, old friends and too many more to mention.
I haven't blogged in ages. When I do write, I try to keep it concise and on point and maybe even summed up with a cute little bow at the end. This post will not be like this. In many ways, I write this not for you, but for me and then still knowing that you will read. And that's OK. I don't mind letting you in. I also don't mind if you stop reading because of it being an incoherent jumble. I promise nothing, but something is telling me to put this all in writing, whether to just get it all out or because I may look back and wonder some day. Already there is so much I've forgotten, and the days all run together.
Before we get underway, please remember that I am in Okayama Prefecture, my power has not once so much as flickered, I have felt not one shake of any of the (very many) earthquakes, there were no tsunamis here, and there are no elevated levels of radiation in my water, food or air. For your reference, it's northern Japan, up near Sendai and Fukushima, that you are seeing on the news. If you aren't sure where this all is, go look on a map to see where that is and where I am. I will wait. Here, I'll make it easy. Okayama is just above and just to the right of Ehime Prefecture in green below, on the big island (Honshu), not the little on (Shikoku).
K, here I go.
A new old friend that I "met" (might get to this later) during this past week through a mutual friend who was in peril and who he was able to help beyond sending money and wringing his hands as I was doing, said that this was the longest week of his life. Even being way down here, I have to agree. I don't even know how to start writing all of this unless I go sort of chronologically and see what falls out onto my keyboard.
March 11, 2011
Just after 2:46PM Japan time last Friday, March 11th, I was sitting in the teachers' room at my school getting ready to leave in 14 minutes. I expected to spend the weekend reflecting on my Mom's birthday and anniversary of her death. I knew it would be sort of an emotional weekend for me. Looking back, it's weird how I had no idea how much so.
I was online and saw that a huge earthquake had hit, I thought, Tokyo. I wondered if this was The Big One (the predicted Tokai Earthquake) I'd feared the entire time I lived in Shizuoka back in 1995-1998. It wasn't, by the way, the Big One, if you wonder. That's yet to come someday. Tokyo gets a lot of earthquakes, but even minutes after it struck, it sounded pretty serious. Nobody in the teachers' room seemed to be aware, so I mentioned it to one teacher, saying "hey, did you hear about the earthquake that just hit Tokyo?" to which she replied "you mean Sendai? Yah, I heard about it," and busily skittered off to wherever. Graduation would be the next week, so everyone was very busy with preparations. I already felt a little weird that I was the only one who appeared to have any reaction.
I went home, decided not to go to the gym (I've been running on the treadmill - different post for a different day - and was about to complete the Couch to 5k program) and did something I never do here. I turned on my ancient ass TV. The images were horrifying. The tsunamis had come. You've seen the images, surely, of homes and cars and people with no chance being swept away. I won't be linking any videos, but they are all over YouTube. I don't need to watch them. I can't make the images I saw on TV leave my mind. More on that later, maybe.
I'd already emailed a friend in Tokyo to make sure he was OK (he was on business in Pasco, WA and had no idea what I was talking about ) and had heard from others on Facebook (a major source of information during this past week), and I marveled at the incredible engineers who had designed Tokyo's tall buildings to sway and not fall. They'd been anticipating the Big One mentioned above. If any city was ready for the largest earthquake Japan had ever seen, it was Tokyo.
I soon realized, though, that what happened in Tokyo was very small potatoes compared to what was going on north of there, closer to the epicenter and where, more tragically, the tsunamis were hitting. At 3:41PM, I emailed my friend Patty who I just knew lived in Miyagi Prefecture with her two school aged boys. Much of the scariest footage I was seeing was coming out of there. Later, still with no reply, I would learn more specifically that they lived in Kesennuma, Miyagi, one of the hardest hit areas. As the night went on, or maybe it was already into the next day, I was hearing of an entire town not terribly far from theirs (a 20 minute train ride) basically washed away with more than half of it's population presumed dead. Those who survived seemed to have lost everything. I knew that my friend and her boys didn't live exactly there, but it was so close and still a place close to the coast. I have never been so worried for someone in my life. I cried and worried, constantly checking anywhere I could online to see if they were OK. Of course, there was the Google Missing People Finder thingy, and there was a Facebook group, too, for people in Miyagi or concerned for others who were. Or maybe that was the next morning that I found those. Either way, I got one hour of sleep (went to bed, got woken up, couldn't go back to sleep) and remained sad, worried and in disbelief.
This is going to be a very long post. Maybe I'll make it more than one. But let me back up a minute to Patty, if I may.
Longtime readers (sounds fancy to say that) may remember this post back in July 2009 when I had just arrived in Tokyo. I had met Patty at our pre-departure orientation in Chicago, and we'd hit it off instantly because we were 2nd time JETs, which is pretty damn rare. We convinced people on the plane ride over to trade seats with us so that we could sit together, and we were joined at the hip throughout Tokyo Orientation. Having done this before and being 10+ years older than the average fresh out of school JET, we had a more clear or at least different perspective on what we wanted out of this experience. We were both coming back because we love Japan and had still more we wanted to see and do and experience here. This had always been like a second home to each of us. Patty was also coming with family. Her oldest boy had been born in Japan back in the day, and he and his brother would come to join her while her husband stayed back home. The boys would come and experience life as Japanese school children first hand, attending a regular school and making friends and being a part of the community. What an incredible experience it would be for everyone. They were headed back to Miyagi, the same prefecture where Patty had been a JET last time, and Patty was super excited. We both were.
And now here we were.
I emailed the embassy to say that her name was listed on the Google People Finder thingy as someone people were not able to contact, I emailed the Tokyo office that kind of oversees the JET Program to let them know the same thing, I got in the Miyagi group on Facebook to see if anyone knew anything about her town. And I hoped. I knew that none of these things would result really in anything, probably, but I thought it couldn't hurt and maybe would give people a place to start, one name among many to try to track down. At 3:15PM on Saturday, March 12th I got word that Patty had tracked herself down with a phone call saying that she and the boys were alive and in a shelter.
I cried and cried and cried and was so relieved. Although I worried constantly whether Patty and her boys were warm in those cold winter-like nights likely with no heat, according to the reports I was hearing, I thought that the worst was over. I thought that it would be less personal now. I thought that I'd be able to start focusing on other things. I thought that the rest of the weekend and week would be easier. I thought that a major earthquake and devastating tsunamis would be the only bad or scary news coming out of Japan.
Next, I heard that Patty's husband was on a plane on Monday, March 14th, headed to Japan when already many were doing the opposite and leaving. A Facebook group was put together by family to raise money for him to come and get them out, and stayed glued to it for updates. At some point I wound up in touch with their friend in Tokyo helping them with logistics and all manner of support, I'm sure, a guy with a last name almost the same as mine and who also had been a JET back in 1995 out of Chicago like us. I felt immediately connected to him and know that someday we will meet and will be good friends. Instead of being able to look away and focus my attention elsewhere, I continued to wait with anticipation for the moment that Patty's husband somehow reached them (the airport is damaged and closed, as are many of the roads, and gasoline is being rationed, so it's not a simple thing), then their journey further north as a family finally united, heading in the opposite direction of the threat of possible radiation that we were now hearing about (more on this later, maybe, or in another post) and hopefully the hell out of this whole sad mess. Knowing the conversations Patty and I had had about what it meant to get to be here again, or in her case, specifically up there, again, my heart breaks at how they had to leave. All I will say further on that is that I am profoundly sad and heartbroken for them and for all that they lost and all that they left behind.
As I type this, they are either getting ready to head to Seoul or are already there. I've been unable to think of much else until they are safely back home in the arms of loved ones in the States.
Meanwhile, whenever I did shift my attention away from what was going on with my friend, I was hearing crazy talk about radiation, the death toll and numbers missing were becoming more staggering, people were still suffering in the cold without heat in winter temperatures, my students were graduating, more earthquakes were happening where other friends lived in a place I used to call home, I was putting together an emergency kit and considering possible escape plans that I doubt I'll ever have to use, people were arriving in my prefecture from Tokyo as a precaution, huge aftershocks were shaking people already very much on edge out of their sleep still (as I've been typing this, Tokyo people have twice lit up Twitter with reports of more earthquakes - they are fairly constant, still), a shit ton of foreigners were leaving Japan entirely, people back home were asking me if I was coming home, I was giving blood (an experience in itself in a foreign language) and money for the animals and for food/supplies and notes with socks away to help while still feeling so sad and so unable to look away for fear that it meant I wasn't paying attention to the voices of those suffering.
And in my own very insignificant way that I hesitate to say because I don't want it to be misunderstood as if I've suffered anything at all compared to those who truly have, all the way over here, far from harm's way, it was destroying me on the inside. Compared to the plight of others, it is nothing, but I am just still not right, right now. I will be. And I've learned so much about myself and about the Japanese spirit that I want to share with you maybe later, but I am not quite right after this week. It has changed me. Things are on my radar that I never thought would be.
It's surreal.
I want to tell you more. I want to say some more to get it out. This is enough for now, though. This is enough for this post. Maybe later. You know I never promise to write stuff here anymore, but maybe I will. If not, I leave you with this to keep in mind about what you may be hearing in your media and why I am not freaked out as much as you might be. I love Japan. This is my home right now. I believe in these people. I believe in Japan's spirit. If anywhere can put on a brave face in spite of tragedy and rebuild and restore themselves, it's Japan. That said, yes, please do know that I am paying attention. I know or am doing my best to always know as much as I can aobut what is going on in Fukushima. I never thought the day would come that I would know the word nuclear reactor in Japanese and that it would roll off my tongue, even.
One more thing, then really I'll get to wrapping this up. Not to make light, at all, but for a lighthearted approach to explaining the nuclear power plant situation in Japan, there is this by, of course, the Japanese, the only people I know who would think to use anime about farts and poop to explain it all in a way that is better and more understandable than any media source I have seen. It's in Japanese, but it is subtitled. Enjoy seems the wrong thing to tell you to do, but, well, I guess, enjoy. (?)
Did it make things a little more clear?
One more last thing related to all of this radiation talk. While I am staying put, I do not judge anyone for fleeing, no matter where in Japan they may be or whether they are headed just down here where I am (reassuring, that) or out of the country entirely (less reassuring, that). Foreigners are taking some shit, tongue in cheek shit, I hope, it sounds like, for fleeing in droves, even from places like relatively safe Tokyo (though I have seen first hand people appearing to have something along the lines of PTSD even from there) or where there has been little effect, like Osaka where some US study abroad programs have chosen to evacuate students. To any criticism of those headed elsewhere, I say that nobody knows what the future holds, and it's none of anybody's damn business, anyway, what people choose to do for their own peace of mind.
For now, please remember the people in the northern part of Japan who are struggling. If you are so inclined, please click on the links above to give blood or money or socks along with your good thoughts. There are lots of other great charities, too, but those are the ones closest to my heart.
OK. That's all for now, for real. Thank you for your messages of love and concern. Imagine me giving you a big group hug while we all wrap our arms around Japan, too and think some get well soon type of thoughts. Thank you for reading this. Whoever you are, if you've made it to here, I love you. Please go spread some extra special love to someone today, too, OK?
Thank you so much to all who have contacted me concerned after such devastating earthquake and tsunamis. Where I am is fine. Zero shaking, no threat of tsunami. Lots of folks up north of me are in a whole lot of trouble, though. Watching the news is surreal. I am mostly speechless but wanted to say that much.
