Japan has been seeking “recovery of people’s hearts” for decades after the quake
By MARI YAMAGUCHI and HARUKA NUGA
TOMIOKA, Japan (AP) – Ten years after the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster in Japan, the lives of many who survived are still waiting.
On March 11, 2011, one of the largest earthquakes on record hit a massive tsunami, killing more than 18,000 people and triggering catastrophic crises at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant. Nearly half a million people have been displaced. Tens of thousands have not yet returned home.
So far, more than 30 billion yen ($ 280 billion) has been spent on reconstruction – but even reconstruction minister Katsuei Hirasawa recently acknowledged that while the government has paid for new buildings, it has invested less in helping people and rebuilds life, for example, by providing mental health services for trauma.
The Associated Press spoke with disaster victims about how far they have come – and how much more needs to be done.
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“HOW MANY MY BODY”
Yasuo Takamatsu, 64, lost his wife, Yuko, when the tsunami hit Onagawa in Miyagi Prefecture.
He’s been looking for her ever since.
He even got his diving license to try to find his remains, and for seven years he went on weekly dives – 470 and counting.
“I always think it could be somewhere nearby,” he said.
In addition to his solo dives, he joins local authorities once a month, conducting underwater searches for about 2,500 people whose remains are still unforeseen throughout the region.
Takamatsu said the city’s scars had healed largely, “but recovering people’s hearts … will take time.”
So far, he has found albums, clothes and other artifacts, but nothing that belonged to his wife.
He said he would continue to look for his wife “as long as my body moves.”
“In the last text message she sent me, she said, ‘Are you okay? I want to go home, “he said. “I’m sure he wants to come home again.”
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“REGISTRATION LINE”
Just a month after a tsunami of up to 17 meters (55 feet) broke out in Rikuzentakata, Michihiro Kono took over his family’s soy sauce business.
The fact that he even managed to continue the two-century-old business is a miracle, he says. The precious soy yeast was saved only because it donated a few to a university laboratory.
For the past decade, Kono has been working to rebuild the Iwate prefecture business, and later this year will complete the construction of a new factory, replacing the one that was destroyed, on the same land where his family started making sauce. of soy in 1807. He even launched a soy sauce called “Miracle” in honor of the saved yeast.
“This is a critical time to see if I can do anything meaningful in the next 10 years,” said the ninth-generation owner of Yagisawa Shoten Co. “I was born here and now I’m back at the starting line.”
But the challenges remain: its customer base has been decimated. The city’s population has fallen by more than 20% to about 18,000, so it is trying to build business networks beyond the city.
Kono often thinks of people killed by the tsunami, many of whom used to talk about plans to revitalize the city.
“Those people all wanted to make a great city and I want to do things that make them say, ‘Well done, you did it,’ when I see them again in the next life,” he said.
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“Who wants to come back?”
About 10 kilometers south of the destroyed nuclear power plant, rice farmer Naoto Matsumura defied a government evacuation order a decade ago and remained on his farm to protect his land and cattle abandoned by neighbors.
It’s still there.
Most of Tomioka reopened in 2017. But dozens of neighboring houses around Matsumura are still empty, leaving the area dark at night.
The city’s main train station in Fukushima prefecture received a facelift. A new shopping center was built. But less than 10 percent of Tomioka’s former population of 16,000 returned from massive amounts of radioactive material that dumped forced evacuations from the city and other nearby areas. Parts of the city remain out of bounds; houses and shops are abandoned.
“It took hundreds of years of history and effort to build this city and it was destroyed instantly,” he said. “I grew up here … but this is nothing like a house.”
Because it took six years to lift the eviction order, many townspeople have already found jobs and homes elsewhere. Half of the former residents say they have decided to never return, according to a city survey.
This was true throughout the region.
In Tomioka, radioactive waste from decontamination efforts in the city is still stored in a no-go area.
“Who wants to go back to a place like this?” Matsumura asked. “I don’t see much future for this city.”
For the company, Matsumura has several cows, a pony and a family of hunting dogs that help him drive away wild boars. The cows are descendants of those from neighboring farms that he kept as a protest after the government issued an order to destroy thousands because of fears of radiation.
This spring, for the first time since the disaster, the 62-year-old farmer is planning an experimental rice plantation and expanding his beekeeping efforts.
“I will stay here until the end of my life,” he said.
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“THEIR HOUSE IS HERE”
Yuya Hatakeyama was 14 when he was forced to evacuate from Tomioka after the disaster.
Now 24, the former third member of the Fukushima Red Hopes team, a regional professional league team, is working at Tomioka City Hall for the first year – but has yet to return to live in the city, joining many commuters in the exterior.
Hatakeyama has sweet and bitter memories of Tomioka. The area that is now a no-go area includes Yonomori Park, where people gathered for a cherry blossom festival. Decontamination work is intensifying in the area, and the city intends to raise the rest of the banned area in 2023.
“I want to reach out to residents, especially the younger generation, so they know their home is still here,” Hatakeyama said. One day, he said, he wants to see young families playing catch, as he did with his father.
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“A PLACE OF COMFORT”
Hazuki Sato was 10 years old when she ran away from her elementary school in Futaba, the home of the destroyed nuclear power plant.
She is now preparing for the age-old ceremony, which is typical of 20-year-old Japanese youth, in hopes of a reunion in the city so she can reconnect with her former classmates who have scattered.
Despite the awful memories of escaping from her class, she still considers Futaba at home.
After studying for eight years outside the region, Sato now works for his hometown – albeit from an office in Iwaki, another city in Fukushima prefecture.
None of Futaba’s 5,700 residents can return to live there until 2022, when the city is expected to partially reopen. An area outside a train station reopened in March last year just for a daytime visit to bring the Olympic torch.
Sato has fond memories of Futaba – a family barbecue, riding a unicycle after school and doing homework and tasting with friends at a childcare center while waiting for her grandmother to take her.
“I want to see this city become a place of comfort again,” she said.