Sunday, October 30, 2011
Winter is drawing close to the land of Tohoku as the wind chills our bones when we work outside. For the people who live in the temporary housing, no one is sure how well those thin walls can shield them from the bitter cold. A department store generously donated tens of thousands of hot water warmers to the ones who lives in temp house, and we have been busy packaging them with a couple other basic essentials and delivering them.
This day we delivered almost 800 hot water warmers, came to about 393 families.
After a whole day of labor, we have only reached a tip of the iceberg. Sometimes it truly leaves me feeling so small, so insufficient. I constantly have to remind myself that I am merely like the little boy in 5 bread + 2 fishes. As long as I have given my everything, God will feed all who are hungry. It is not me, but Him.
In one of the temp house compounds, the occupant number of all 48 households are either 1 or 2. Likely that none of the families in this compound is whole. Especially when it came to household that was only grandpa or grandma, it wrenched my heart and I could only bless them with a silent
Mr Sasaki and his highschooler son came to help with our packing and delivering when we arrived upon his compound. We learned that he is a temple priest, in which his temple/house was washed away in the tsunami, and nobody can tell when it can be rebuilt. His tone was gentle and light, only with a slight hint of sadness in his eyes.
I needed to go to washroom and Mr Sasaki had his son took me to their unit. This was my first time to be inside a temp house. Sasaki's younger daughter was also in the house and looked over to say hi.
I took a quick glance around the room, went to washroom and returned to the meeting place with Sasaki's son. A question was burning at the tip of my tongue all the way as we were walking, but I couldn't manage to roll it out to ask him.
After I got on our van, I fetched out the occupant's list and searched for Mr Sasaki's unit number. In the column of occupant number, the number "3" was printed beside their name.
When I walked in their house, the chaos was unimaginable for a japanese family.
It could be a single parent family, It could be just their way to be.
But my initial impression was a chaos that stemmed from an utter loss.
Probably, probably mommy is not in the household anymore.
I often hope that I'd thought too much when these moments come.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Have you ever waited in front of the train's cross way?
We just had the day before. In the morning we were busing down from our dorm on the mountain down to our base, just as our daily routine goes. When we got close to the cross way, the safety bar was lowered and there was a little line up in front of it.
"Oh, how I have missed this!" said Mr Wada, our bus driver.
We all poked our little heads to see through the front window. Slowly but surely, a small train head passed through the crossway as we bursted into cheering and clapping our hands.
The lifeline of train tracks was destroyed in the tsunami in the coastal area, since then train service has been suspended. Hearing the sound of train is like hearing the sound of the footsteps toward recovery. Slowly, but surely.
How odd it is now that the usual stressful wait in front of the cross way become so moving.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Yesterday when Mr Kawahara learned that it was the last day of one of our volunteers Mayumi, he said, "Please don't forget Ofunato."
My dear people of Ofunato, do not be afraid
We can never forget you.
We who come from all over the world have met you in the debris of mountains and sea
We have laughed together, we have cried together.
When we leave, your lives are like stardust
ingrained on our hearts.
Perhaps one day, when dark night comes onto our path
it would be these sparkling stardust that save us from the starless nights
Thank you for sharing your smiles and tears with us
Thank you so much.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
After bundled up my finger for a good couple of days, the wound is healed! and I managed to shave off 2mm fibrous skin off it before taking this picture.
Oh what happened to my finger? Nothing. The rubber hammer just missed a gigantic brick and went for my tiny little finger tip instead (I feel so smart these days when I learn how to do handy work).
to my radiation therapist friends: tegaderm and paper tape are great for finger tip wounds!
A small price to pay for the making of a community park ;)
Park story coming soon!!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Today's work is to take people to spend money! XD
Most of locations of temporary housing are inconveniently located in the middle of nowhere. People who don't own a car, esp the elderly, can only wait for the mobile food truck to come, or take the shuttle bus to shop grocery which comes to the area once or twice a week. The temporary housing area that we serve doesn't even have a shuttle bus service. Honestly, I am pretty upset about the negligence from the city officials! On top of that, the shuttle bus service, when it is available, is not free. Each time they will have to pay 600 yen. When you have lost everything and the government is not paying you much, it is a lot of money.
The grannies and grandpas really appreciate our help to get some food.
One of the grannies called Mrs Asano asked me to carry her grocery to her house. It was definitely my pleasure to give her a hand. When we arrived at her small square box, she stopped in front of the door. She turned around and said to me, "It is really embarrassing inside, you can leave the grocery here, thank you."
I was a little stunned, and was overwhelmed with sadness.
Usually Japanese are very hospitable. They would double the miles if you have walked them one. And I wouldn't be surprise if the little old lady attempts to feed me.
She could barely lift the bags herself... How much shame does it take for a japanese old lady to refuse someone who has just helped her to carry heavy grocery to even step inside?
Yes, with a roof over their head. A roof that reflects their embarrassing and stranded situation. A roof that makes them feel they are not good enough to open their door to welcome a guest.
I suddenly remember the vision of Habitat for Humanity: A world where everyone has a decent place to stay. I wish for the day to come, that they can smile and open their door to guest with all the warmth and pride in the world.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
One of the important works that we do is to clean ditches (sewage system, canals... whatever you like to call it!). The tsunami has brought loads of mud and all kinds of debris into the canals along the road side clogging the water sewage system, thus floods the area when it rains. What we do is to lift all the concrete cover of canals, pull out the weeds that blossoms in the tsunami mud, then dig out the mud/earth shovel by shovel. After we dug out the soil, we must sort out the concrete and debris from the soil, putting them into different bags for disposal. Just a fun side note, there was a fish factory in one of the area before. Many fishes were washed to everywhere, including ditches. After so many months, the fishes decomposed into the mud, wherever they had landed. The mud becomes kinda sticky, gluey aka asphelt-like (I am sure it is full of collagen and protein!), emitting a distinctive obnoxious smell. YYYyuummmmmmmmmMMm.
In the usual japanese cleaning standard, we use a brush to clean the ditch after digging the mud out. A straw-made broom is used to clean whatever is left behind before the final touch of a lighter broom to rid the dust off the sidewalk. To be honest, my room has less treatment than the ditch!!
As we dig thru the ditch meter by meter, lots of different debris are recovered: a watch, calender, penguin-glass paper holder, red wine bottle, fragments of fine china... I feel I am picking up broken pieces of people's lives. In the midst of all the debris, we found a collection of train miniatures. We carefully put them aside as we found them one by one. over the span of that morning, we found a total of 4. We were all abit quiet and heavy. Perhaps they were once a favorite toy of a little boy. At the end, we couldn't manage to throw them away. Heather brought them back to the base in a small towel, and gave me 2 of them after washing them.
I carry them around in my bag during my break in Osaka and Kyoto, as a reminder of why I am here in this far far land. At times, I tell their story to my new friends. My new friends would look at these little trains with a tint of overwhelming sadness in their eyes.
I feel this has become a part of my mission. It is not to sell tragic tearful stories, but to tell the stories and lives of the earthquake area to others, so people of the Northeast will not be forgotten as they try to live their best in the midst of loss and grief.
Forget them not.
For more photo:
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
After 3 weeks of relief work, it is time to rest, redeem some lost thoughts and reflect.
Just found out one of our dance teachers has lost her son in the tsunami. It was a shock to us all, who were so oblivious of the deep sorrow that our beloved mama has been enduring all these time. At a loss of words and thoughts, I don't know what to think or what should I think. I will let this thought settle abit before I share more.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
I have been washing dishes, dishes and dishes in the past couple of days. And some cats' paws as well (there are 3 super cute kittens inside the house and running around with dirty paws on the wet wooden floor we just wiped clean. Bad kitty, Bad!) Those dishes are recovered from a tsunami damaged house to a second house that the owner has.
At the end of the day, my finger tips chapped badly. And it wasn't part of my gear to include hand cream (for some odd reasons I have such a hard time finding normal cream in japan O_O). Even after I put on cream twice, my hands still feels like sandpaper. All of a sudden I realized, this is one of the marks that my hospital job has carved on me. We washed our hands so often in hospital with anti-bacterial soaps and alcohol foam, after all these years my hands ceased to produce any oil such as normal skin would. As far away from my job as I am now, there are things in life that will make a mark in you, and follow you no matter where you go, reminding you life once lived.
Such as chappy hands, such as death.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
|Ofunato tsunami relief work|
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
This journey of faith started in the morning after I arrived in Kolkata. The volunteer friends whom I have made upon arrival offered to meet up and show me the way to the Mother House. Afterall, it was only my second day. They were going to meet me in front of my hostel at 5:15am. Now, most people know that there is a 7.5 hour time difference in Kolkata. Most people. Except me. So after I waited on the street for 15 min and the soliciting and stares from the men on the street became uncomfortable, I didn't want to miss the morning mass so I decided to start walking.
"Go straight on the street ahead, and you will find Mother House," they said.
Uncomfortable as a newly arrived, with my untrusting nature I kept on asking. At times, when I saw a street on the right, I would make a right turn to announce my suspicion by detouring. But the people kept pointing me back to the original street I was instructed to walk straight thru. As I walked on, there were some individuals who would point toward the end of that straight road without me asking, and said, "Mother House."
All of a sudden God's voice spoke, "See, I have told you where to go. It is only you who doubt. But despite your little faith, I still have placed beacons to show you the way."
I was stricken to the core. Where can I hide from your Spirit? The streets of Kolkata became an entrance to the Labyrinth of my faith.
Labyrinth looks very much like a maze. But in fact, no matter how we walk it, an exit awaits us. In our own pace, pause at times when we want to, it is a long stroll of rhythm where we slowly synchronize with God's and encountering Him in the whisper of the breeze. Every now and then, when I need to make a decision out of faith, I think of that morning in Kolkata. And every time I take a leap in faith with prayers, He proves He is God. The rhythm of faith seems to swing in pendulum. Between the tick and tock, slowly I am moving close to the edge of the boat. The storm seems wilds and the waves seems high. I heard His voice in the wind and His arm stretches out invitingly.
The Voice says, "Do not be afraid."
Come, let go. Let's go.