Sunday, March 27, 2011

Cherry blossoms a poignant reminder of Japan's fragility

Cherry blossoms a poignant reminder of Japan's fragility

'Humans, like the flowers, are transient,' says one quake survivor'

The cherry trees will soon blossom in Japan.
For the Japanese, it will be a particularly poignant sight. Even in normal times, the flowers are a cause for rejoicing tinged with sadness, because they fall at the moment of their greatest beauty. They are the embodiment of a notion that is central to Japanese culture — "hakanasa," a hard-to-translate word that conveys the fragility, or evanescence, of life.
For Japan, this sense of transience is also a source of strength.
In this time of national grieving, the cherry blossoms will bring home the awareness of hakanasa with a strange kind of force — one that doesn't strike but sinks into the soul like heat from a hot spring or fire from a sake bottle, bringing sorrow and solace in equal measure. The fragility of technologically-advanced Japan was exposed in the most terrifying way in the earthquake and tsunami that devastated the northeast, leaving more than 10,000 people dead, some 17,500 missing and about a half-million homeless, and spawning a nuclear disaster.
Hiroyuki Yoneta, a monger at Tokyo's bustling Tsukiji fish market, reflected on life's frailty as he took a break from loading crab and shrimp onto his rickety stall a couple hours before his 4 a.m. opening time.
"Thinking about how these people living normal lives suddenly disappeared, you can't escape the feeling that humans, like the flowers, are transient things," Yoneta said.
But consider this Japanese paradox: the delicate cherry blossom was also the symbol of the samurai, the epitome of Japanese valor.
The warrior class liked the flowers because they didn't cling to life, but rather showed up for the briefest spell, and fell at the peak of their splendor. In this way, they embodied the spirit of "bushido" — the way of the warrior that combines stoicism, bravery, and self-sacrifice.
  1. Japan earthquake
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    5. Crime gangs among first with quake aid
    6. In Japan, radiation level in sea water raises fears
    7. Time-lapse of  aftershocks
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These days, people invoke bushido less often than the common man's down-to-earth version — "gaman." It means gritting your teeth and just getting on with life. When people refer to Japan's salarymen as modern-day samurai, it's taken not so much in a swashbuckling sense but for the way these men in suits endure crushing, monotonous toil, and display unwavering loyalty to a common cause.
Moving on and starting over
And amid death, people of all stripes here are plowing ahead with life, in an orderly and cooperative way. Many are already starting to return to the sites of their devastated homes, and thinking cool-headedly about how to start over amid Japan's biggest catastrophe since World War II.
Scenes of gaman abound: the homeless family sitting around a makeshift fire as snow falls at night, their stoic faces lit up by orange flames. The old man walking his bicycle through an ankle-high lake of mud, his son's wedding picture in the basket. Drivers waiting patiently in line for hours for scarce gasoline in quake-ravaged areas.
Image: Quake rubble
Shuji Kajiyama  /  AP
Qa wedding photo lies in the rubble in the devastated area in Onagawa in Miyagi Prefecture.
And so do stories of self-sacrifice.
Kennichi Takeuchi, 81, and his wife Yukiko, 78, have been living in their tiny black Mitsubishi car since the quake, amid snow and a biting wind — even though they're just outside a community center packed with refugees.
Yukiko has a bad leg and can't sleep on the hard wood floor inside. Kennichi, who's been married to Yukiko for 56 years, isn't about to seek the comfort of the center.
"We pass the time here in the car," said Yukiko, her dog Meg sitting on her lap. "It's not so bad."
  1. Japan earthquake
    1. Japan criticizes nuke plant operator
    2. Nuke plant worker recalls narrow escape
    3. Dangerous breach feared at Japan nuke site
    4. Interactive
      PhotoBlog: Waves hit Japan nuke plant
    5. Crime gangs among first with quake aid
    6. In Japan, radiation level in sea water raises fears
    7. The notions of hakanasa and gaman may also have roots in Japan's traditional awareness of humankind's powerlessness in the face of almighty nature. It's a lesson Japan may have started to forget as it put nuclear reactors on shores near faultlines, reclaimed land from Tokyo Bay to build airport extensions, and sent ever-higher buildings into the sky.
But this relationship with nature — a paradox of being at one with it while still in constant antagonism — remains deeply embedded in the Japanese mind.
Part of it has to do with the fact that Japan is so prone to natural disasters: Killer quakes and tsunamis have struck time and again in Japanese history. And time and again, the nation has rebuilt.
Anyone who has visited the ancient capital of Kyoto will know that Japan was for most of its history a culture of wooden buildings rather than brick-and-mortar. This tradition of wood brings the Japanese closer to nature — and, because wooden homes can be destroyed so easily, also makes them acutely aware of nature's force.
"The transience (hakanasa) of human life and the transience of buildings are both caught in mutability's immeasurable vortex of sadness," the novelist Keiichiro Hirano wrote in an essay titled "On Mutability."
This year, that sadness will be driven home by the fact so many thousands will never see another "hanami" season — as cherry blossom viewing is known here.
And there may be comfort because amid horror, there are fleeting scenes of beauty: the hug of reunited family members. The smile of a relief worker handing out a blanket. And soon — even amid the rubble — clouds of petals drifting to the ground where homes once stood and laughter once rang out.
'Cherry blossoms and a change of heart'
Haruhiko Fukuda, a squat man with a shaved head and gentle eyes who runs a century-old dumpling shop a few steps from fishmonger Yoneta's stall, sees hope.
"After the cold (season) ... you have the cherry blossoms and a change of heart," Fukuda said. "I hope that will help spur our rebuilding. Step by step, fixing something that's broken is a huge task, and as a first step we need some inspirations to rebuild."
In the days to come the flowers will bloom in the south, appear soon afterward in Tokyo, and drift toward the ravaged north in April — poet T.S. Eliot's "cruelest month" — in a wave of whitish-pink that may reach its peak just as this nation's people emerge from collective shell-shock and a deeper pain, if that's possible, sinks in.
This story was written on the Vernal Equinox, a tradition-steeped public holiday in Japan that signals spring — and cherry blossom season — are around the corner. It's also a day for paying respect at the graves of loved ones — a reminder that for thousands in northeastern Japan, there will likely never be a tombstone at which to pray.
Spring everywhere carries the promise of renewal, yet in Japan the cherry blossoms are also a reminder of the fleeting nature of life. The acceptance of this paradox may bring out a particularly Japanese strength -- a stoicism that will be called upon repeatedly as the nation confronts its tragedy.

A burial in the rain for Japan tsunami victims

A burial in the rain for Japan tsunami victims

KESENNUMA, Japan - Ten flimsy wooden coffins were laid on two sturdy rails at a hastily prepared cemetery of mostly mud as Keseunnuma began burying its dead from the tsunami that ripped apart the Japanese coastal city.
Desperate municipalities such as Kesennuma have been digging mass graves, unthinkable in a nation where the deceased are almost always cremated and their ashes placed in stone family tombs near Buddhist temples. Local regulations often prohibit burial of bodies.
The number of dead in Kesennuma was 551 as of Saturday, far too many for local crematoriums that can typically manage about 10 bodies a day but are now facing shortages of kerosene.
Another 1,448 in the city of about 74,000 are missing from the tsunami two weeks ago that has left more than 27,500 people dead or missing across Japan.
"This disaster has created a tsunami of tears," said Shuko Kakayama, master of the Jifukuji Buddhist temple, which lost 300 members to the tsunami that also heavily damaged temple grounds.
Kakayama, who presided over the funeral of one temple member and prayed for all souls laid to rest, said there was a time when Japan permitted burials.
But the government has for decades sought cremations due to a lack of cemetery space in the densely populated country.
"If we are returning to the earth, then we are returning to nature," Kakayama said.
More than 100 mourners with rubber boots for the mud, umbrellas for the rain and snow and heavy coats for the biting cold were asked by a city official to form lines in front of the casket of their family members.
"Please feel free to place whatever you want in the casket," the official said in a funeral devoid of any formal ceremony.
Mourners approached caskets. Kakayama chanted and rang a small bell that gently punctuated the sobbing while a woman sang a song of loss, kneeling at the grave of her mother.
Mourners took lids off the coffins, placing inside food, flowers, pictures, a fresh set of clothes and other keepsakes for their departed loved ones to take with them.
There was little time to linger. The burial for the next 10 people was about to start in a few minutes in similar funerals expected to run for weeks at the wooded hilltop a few kilometres away from where the tsunami tore through the city.
Relatives burned incense, put improvised altars on the coffins and prayed.
They were told to remember the number of the wood marker placed behind the coffin because that would serve as the temporary tombstone.
Police have been storing DNA samples from unidentified bodies, which will also be buried, in case that can help identification at some later stage.
"You can visit the graves from tomorrow," the official said. "Be careful, there will be a lot of heavy machinery here."
Mourners filed out while a family consoled each other at a small tent that offered protection from the rain.
"All we can do is fight through this," one said to a sobbing relative.
As workers came to nail the coffins shut, the next batch of 10 bodies arrived.

Death toll tops 10,000 but nuke crisis hampers search

                   Death toll tops 10,000 but nuke crisis hampers search 
 The official death toll from the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami topped 10,000 on Friday, while around 240,000 people continue to seek shelter in some 1,900 evacuation centers. According to the National Police Agency, more than 27,000 people had been confirmed dead or missing as of noon Friday, comprising 10,035 deaths and 17,443 unaccounted for.
The full extent of loss of life is still unclear, as search efforts in Fukushima Prefecture have been hampered by the crisis at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear plant, which is leaking radiation. Police in Miyagi Prefecture meanwhile believe the sea will yield more bodies.
Damage to buildings and roads is estimated at between ¥16 trillion and ¥25 trillion. Miyagi police have posted information on their website about more than 2,000 recovered bodies, including details of clothing, in hopes of identifying them.
With the number of bodies collected far exceeding the authorities' capacity to cremate them all, Miyagi and Iwate prefectures are forgoing tradition and have started burials. In Higashimatsushima, Miyagi Prefecture, nearly 100 bodies have already been buried.
In Iwate, Miyagi and Fukushima prefectures, autopsies have been completed on some 9,890 bodies, of which 6,890 have been identified and 6,320 returned to their families.
While highways and ports in the disaster-hit areas have reopened, part of the bullet train service on the Tohoku Shinkansen Line remains suspended with no clear time frame for resumption. In addition, 55 sewage plants remain disabled.
Meanwhile, aftershocks have continued to jolt survivors of the disaster, and the Meteorological Agency is forecasting a 20 percent chance of an aftershock with a magnitude of more than 7.0 striking through Sunday.
In a fresh move to assist survivors, the Hiroshima prefectural board of education informed its Miyagi counterpart that it can accept around 150 elementary school children and 10 teachers for one year at two school buildings that are not in use in the city of Etajima.
As it will be difficult to host their families as well, the children would be put up at a nearby public accommodation facility.
Akitakata, another city in Hiroshima, is also preparing to accept around 80 elementary school students so they can continue their studies, the board of education said.
The nuclear crisis, meanwhile, led authorities to issue temporary warnings in Tokyo, as well as cities in Fukushima, Ibaraki, Chiba, Saitama and Tochigi prefectures on Thursday calling on people not to give tap water to infants due to contamination from radioactive iodine.
Tokyo has lifted its warning.

Major record labels join for Japan relief album

The world's four leading record labels have lent hit tracks to an album released on Friday to raise funds for the Japanese Red Cross Society following this month's earthquake and tsunami. What started off as an initiative by Universal Music, the world's biggest record company, has turned into an industry-wide collaboration. The result is the 38-track "Songs for Japan." Universal said it was handling the servicing of the digital album, while Sony Music would produce a physical version provisionally set to hit stores on April 4. Featured on the album, available on the iTunes Store for $9.99, are artists including John Lennon ("Imagine"), U2 ("Walk On"), Bob Dylan ("Shelter From the Storm"), Lady Gaga ("Born This Way") and Bruce Springsteen ("Human Touch")

Engineers toil to pump out Japan plant

07:30 JST March 27: Japanese engineers struggled on Sunday to pump radioactive water from a crippled nuclear power station after radiation levels soared in seawater near the plant more than two weeks after it was battered by a huge earthquake and a tsunami.
Tests on Friday showed iodine 131 levels in seawater 30 km (19 miles) from the coastal nuclear complex had spiked 1,250 times higher than normal but it was not considered a threat to marine life or food safety, the Nuclear and Industrial Safety Agency said.
"Ocean currents will disperse radiation particles and so it will be very diluted by the time it gets consumed by fish and seaweed," said Hidehiko Nishiyama, a senior agency official.
Despite that reassurance, the disclosure is likely to heighten international concern over Japanese seafood exports. Several countries have already banned milk and produce from areas around the Fukushima Daiichi plant, while others have been monitoring Japanese seafood

 
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