『あの時、福島のある町で起こっていた、25人の真実』というタイトルで、朝日新聞の紙上で連載されていた『防護服の男』という記事を、ここに転載させていただいた。
ひとりでも多くの人に、あの日、あの時、福島のある町で起こっていた真実を、知ってもらいたかった。
ありがたいことに、とても大勢の方が、ツィートなどで広げてくださり、読んでいただくことができた。
本当に感謝！
そして今日、この記事を読んだ、ここ東海岸に住んでおられるTakako Tokuokaさんが、なんと、全文を英訳してくださったことを知った。
Takakoさんの英語力は、わたしのそれとはまるで比べ物にならないにしても、あの文章を英文に替えるには、大変な思いをされただろうし、時間もそれ相応にかかったと思う。
本当にありがとう！
Men In Protective Clothing
“Men in protective clothing” is a series of shocking articles that are currently buzzing in Japan. I read it, tears filled up in my eyes. I decided to translate the full story into English. I felt their frustration and anguish. I wanted them to be heard. It could happen anywhere in the world…
I found a photo of Mrs. Mizue Kanno in front of the gate of the house on the original article published on Asahi Shinbun (newspaper) website. I can’t help, but to repost it here. Asahi Shinbun is currently running the second series right now.
Men in protective clothing
This is translated from a series of articles originally published in Asahi newspaper in Japan, titled “Prometheus’ Trap” by reporter Motoyuki Maeda. (The second series is currently run in the paper.)
It's about what really happened to a handful of people in a small town near Fukushima Daiichi. When I read the Japanese article, it moved me and made me cry. So I decided to translate it into English for the rest of the world.
Here's a link to a blog featuring the entire original Japanese articles. I'm not associated with Asahi newspaper. This is my voluntary work. I'm just a messenger.
―――
Prologue
According to Greek mythology, it was Prometheus who gave the gift of fire to humans.
Acquiring fire, humans thrived, cultures developed. The fire from fossil fuel sped up the progress. Eventually, humans acquired nuclear fire. It was once described to be a “dream energy.” Little did they know, there was a trap set within it.
Mankind, who built cultures upon Prometheus'fire is now troubled by the nuclear fire. Amid the failure of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, we think of the nation, its citizens, and the dependency on electric power.
―――
Men in protective clothing
Part 1: Please get out of this area…
Please get out of this area… (Originally published on Asahi Shinbun: 10/3/2011)
The Tsushima area of Namie town is located in the mountains of Fukushima prefecture, located about 30 kilometers northwest of TEPCO's Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant.
On March 12, the day after the nuclear accident occurred, 10,000 evacuees headed to the Tsushima area from the seafront areas within 10 kilometers of the nuclear plant. As all the emergency shelters - elementary and junior high schools, public halls, even temples - were filled, some people knocked on private residences.
Mizue Kanno (age 59) started receiving evacuees at her house in the morning. By night fall, the number grew to 25. Most of them were her relatives and acquaintances, and some strangers.
The house was large with an impressive gate, which was rebuilt where a 180-year-old house stood that belonged to her husband's family. It even sported a great room of 20 tatami mats, ideal for receiving evacuees. The driveway inside the gate was packed with evacuee's cars.
As they reached Mizue's house, they looked relieved. “We have no idea what had occurred at the nuclear plant, but it's probably far enough from the plant here.”
Mizue cooked 14 cups of rice in two pressure cookers for everyone. The menu for supper was rice balls and pork stew. After a long day of evacuating, everyone sat in the great room and dug in.
After dinner, people introduced themselves to each other, and agreed on some basic rules of living at Mizue's house.
- To avoid clogging the toilet, one must toss the tissues in the cardboard box next to it.
- Everyone must help prepare the food, and clean up afterwards.
- Let's be honest with each other.
They were to sleep in two rooms at the Kanno residence. Mizue offered all the futons and blankets she had.
Then, Mizue went outside for a moment and noticed there was a white van parked in front of the house. Two men who were wearing white protective clothing in the wagon shouted something at Mizue, but she couldn't hear well.
“What is it? What's wrong?”
She asked.
“What are you doing here?! Please get out of this area.”
Mizue was taken back.
“Get out …? But this is an emergency shelter.”
Two men got out of the wagon. Both of them were wearing respirator masks.
“Radioactive material is spreading.” One said seriously. The air was imminent.
Route 114 which ran in front of the house was jammed with cars of people who couldn't find shelters. The men in protective gear also shouted at the people who got out of their cars to “get back inside of the cars.”
Then they headed towards Fukushima city in the white van. They weren't going to the town hall branches, nor to post warnings on message boards.
The government said outside of a 10km radius of the nuclear plant was safe. But why were those two men wearing respirator masks? Let alone the protective clothing? Who were those people?
Mizue wondered. She hurried inside, and reported what she had just heard.
Part 2: Re-evacuation
Re-evacuation
March 12, 2011, in the evening - Mizue went back inside the house and reported to everyone what she was just told by the men in protective gear. A meeting started.
“Well, let's wait and see… Wouldn't the town officials or the police warn us if it's seriously dangerous to stay here?” No one wanted to move again as they just got settled in after a hard day.
Later that night, the situation changed rapidly. One of the evacuees noticed that a few buses entered the public hall parking lot, which was one of the official emergency shelters. When one of the bus drivers was asked why, he said he was ordered to move the evacuees.
At the time, Namie town had chartered a few buses to transport people who were left behind within the 20 kilometer radius of the plant to the Tsushima area. But Mizue didn't know about it. Instead, she started to doubt that her house was safe. She woke up the people, and started another meeting.
Still, most people didn't want to leave. One woman, however, said, “If we all remained here, Mizue's family wouldn't be able to leave, could they?” That changed everything. They decided upon evacuating.
“We will go as far as possible until the gas runs out.” The first ones to flee were 2 young couples who left at midnight. One couple had a month-old infant and another had a toddler. They hesitated at first saying, “We really don't want to drive through the mountain roads at night.” But Mizue pressed, “Please go for the sake of your children,” and handed them some rice balls for the road.
The next morning on the 13th, they had another meeting. Another young couple who didn't want to move decided to flee “for their children.” An older woman let them borrow her car, saying, “I can take the bus from the town shelter as I'm by myself.”
By that evening, all 25 evacuees at the Kannos re-evacuated to Fukushima city, Koriyama city and Minami Soma city.
Mizue went around the neighborhood to tell others about what the men in protective clothing had told her. A man laughed and responded, “I used to work for TEPCO. The nuclear plant we built can't be that dangerous.” He fled from the tsunami, not from the nuclear accident. It deflated Mizue. She and her first son, Jun-ichi (age 27) decided to remain.
Jun-ichi was volunteering in the kitchen of a shelter, making rice balls. “I can't just run away from here.”
At that point in time, the dosimeters with 30 micro-sievert capacity flung the needles to the max just a mere 10 kilometers from the Tsushima area.
Part 3: Why is that policeman wearing such an outfit?
Why is that policeman wearing such an outfit?
As of March 13, after 25 people left the Kanno family home, many evacuees still remained in the Tsushima area. The exclusion zone widened to a 10 km radius at 5:44 a.m. on the 12th. Then it widened again to a 20 km radius at 6:25 p.m. after the No1 reactor had an hydrogen explosion.
But Sachio Edano, Japan's chief cabinet secretary, said at the evening press conference on the 12th, “[The explosion] wasn't going to leak much radioactive materials. We don't think it would affect the areas outside of a 20 km radius from the plant.” In other words, the message was‘it's not so bad, but please evacuate just in case’more or less. People believed that the Tsushima area, which lies within a 30 km radius from the plant, was safe.
TEPCO employees visited the Tsushima branch in Namie town on the 12th and on the 13th. They weren't wearing protective gear. They didn't say “it was dangerous to stay here.” Big difference between their state and the two men who advised Mizue to leave the area the other night.
Town officials and the mayor hadn't seen the men in protective clothing. Mizue kept a note and wrote down everything she saw and heard.
Early in the morning on the 15th, an impacted bang was heard from the No2 reactor, following the explosion at the No3 reactor the day before. Then another explosion occurred in the No4 reactor. For the first time, the government requested that anyone in a 20~30 km radius should “stay indoors.”
Around that time, the residents of the Tsushima area began to evacuate. Upon learning about the No3 reactor explosion of the 14th on TV, Mayor Baba decided to have the residents of Namie town voluntarily evacuate to the neighboring town of Nihonmatsu city, starting March 15.
At 9 a.m. on the 15th, they measured 11,930 micro-sieverts per hour at the main gate of Fukushima Daiichi. Chief Secretary Edano's comments were still optimistic.
“The radiation levels are much less and diluted beyond a 20 km radius, and its effect on human health is either minimal or none.”“All three reactors, No1~3, are getting dowsed with water, and cooling.”
The fact that the reactors suffered meltdowns on March 12 wasn't reported to the Japanese citizens until much later.
A traffic policeman wore protective clothing in the morning of the 12th in Namie town.
The residents wondered, “Why is that policeman wearing such an outfit?”
The chairman of the town council, Kazuki Yoshida (age 65) visited the police station, and requested the policemen “not to wear protective clothing because it worries the residents.”
Yoshida comments [now] “We were the only ones who didn't know [the truth].”
Part 4: This is murder…
This is murder…
SPEEDY is a computer simulation system, in which the Japanese government has invested 13 billion yen. It instantaneously calculates and shows where radioactive materials spread by feeding the actual data such as radiation levels, topography, weather, and wind.
The radioactive materials spread towards the Tsushima area, but the government did not inform the residents.
Fukushima prefecture officials also knew about the results of the SPEEDY. The night of the 12th, they requested the information from the Center for Nuclear Safety in Tokyo and got the information by email, but they didn't act on it. The emails were eventually deleted.
The first time this information was made available to the Tsushima area residents was May 20, more than two months later only because the issue was brought up in the Prefectural assembly.
To offer an apology on May 20, the prefecture sent a representative to the Towa branch in Nihonmatsu city where Namie town had moved their office functions.
“This is murder…,” Mayor Tamotsu Baba protested. According to him, the prefecture rep apologized profusely through tears that they hadn't reported the results of the SPEEDY.
That was not all. The Fukushima prefecture officials have been measuring the radiation levels of many areas as early as the day after the accident on March 12.
At 9 a.m. on March 12, they measured 15 microSv/hr in the Saki area of Namie town, 14 microSv/hr in the Takase area. Two areas showed relatively higher readings compared to other towns of Fukushima. These measurements were taken 6 plus hours prior to the hydrogen explosion at the No1 reactor, and there were a lot of evacuees in the vicinity.
All these numbers were posted later on the homepage of the Ministry of Economy & Industry, but their importance was lost in the rest of the numbers neatly charted alongside.
At the end of August, Kazuo Ueda, the head of the rescue team operation at Namie town, was shocked to see such a document. “I've never seen this before. Why didn't the government or the prefecture inform us?”
Mizue Kanno says, “Does this mean that our nation abandoned us?”
Part 5: Am I gonna die??
Am I gonna die?
So what happened to those 25 evacuees who were at the Kanno residence that day?
One of them, Misako Yatsuda (age 62) currently lives in municipal housing in Kasugai city in Aichi prefecture. She's a distant relative of Mizue. She has a house in the Onoda area of Namie town. It's about 20 km closer to the ocean, and within a 10 km radius of Fukushima Daiichi.
March 11, she was home at the time of the earthquake. In the early morning of March 12, her second daughter and her family rushed to her place, “It's not safe here. We have to get out of here.” They left by 9 a.m.
Route 114 towards the Tsushima area was already in a massive traffic jam. They took Rt 6 north to Minami Soma city, and reached Misako's first daughter's house in the Odaka area. There, they learned about the hydrogen explosion, and together they drove to Tsushima.
It was already passed 6 p.m. when they got to Mizue's house. Other evacuees there had just finished eating supper.
They were exhausted after running around all day, but attended the meeting otherwise. It was Misako's idea to use the cardboard box for the used toilet paper to prevent the toilet from clogging. She got the idea from the time she traveled to Mexico.
Their sense of relief was very short lived as Mizue told them about the warning made by the men in protective clothing. Misako's second daughter’s family of 7 including a month old infant, and her first daughter's family of 4 fled that night. Misako herself left the next evening on the 13th.
Misako didn't have anywhere particular to go, but headed toward Koriyama city, further away from the plant. Koriyama city was measuring radiation exposure levels of every evacuee coming into the city. As an instrument was held near Misako, the meter flung out. “Am I going to die?” Misako cried to the person measuring.
That night, she slept in the car.
March 15, in the morning, she got in touch with her husband at last, who was in Soma city at the time of the earthquake. They got together at Aizu Wakamatsu city, and headed to Kasugai city (Aichi) where her sister lived via Niigata prefecture.
12 days of running around without any support or information from the government or TEPCO.
“Nuclear power is safe,” they were told many times. Their lives based on that assumption totally crumbled away.
But it's true that nuclear plants have been good for the residents. “We can't say it was all bad.” Misako sighs.
Part 6: Flies were buzzing…
Flies were buzzing…
Misako Yatsuda (62) was born and raised in Namie town. She was in junior high school when TEPCO started constructing Fukushima Daiichi. After graduating from high school, she left Namie town to work in Tokyo for a year and half. When she returned to Namie town, her life was involved with TEPCO all the way.
She got married and had three children. She and her husband opened a yakitori (chicken kabob) diner. TEPCO workers were their regular customers. Later, she went to work at the TEPCO dormitories where she worked for 10 years until last year. She cooked for the employees. She was loved by many young employees who adoringly called her “YatsuDutch.” The women's dormitory housed some of the recently popular players of Nadeshiko Japan (Women’s soccer team) including Aya Samejima. She recalls, “They were all good and lovely girls.”
After her children grew up, she moved into the TEPCO dorm where management staff lived. She still remembers how the management staff geared up during the election time. Whenever there was to be an election for mayors or governors, the dorm's dining room became their hang out. They all rushed to congratulate when the candidates whom they were supporting got elected. She was impressed how “the power company and politics were firmly intertwined.”
She spent half of her life involved with TEPCO. For this nuclear accident, however, no information was offered by TEPCO. After moving to Kasugai city, Aichi prefecture, she got even less news. She subscribed to a local Fukushima paper, and scanned through everything.
What's going to happen to our lives in the future? What about the compensation for the damage? Full of worries.
In June, she and her husband made a furlough back to their house in Namie town. The earthquake left the refrigerator fallen sideways on the floor, and flies were buzzing around the rotten food.
At the end of August, they made another trip back home to get her car. Her husband drove 8 hours from Kasugai city to get to the gymnasium in Hirano town, where they changed into protective clothing, and got on a chartered bus. When they got off the bus, two dogs with collars came to their feet. On the way, they saw two dead cats.
“With one wrong step, perhaps we might have ended up like them.”
After the nuclear accident, Misako's first daughter's family evacuated to Koriyama, and second daughter's family to Niigata. Her family, that once lived close from one another, was now scattered. In September, they applied for temporary housing in Fukushima. “We want to go back there. We lived there for many decades…” Tears filled up her eyes.
Part 7: Come to Tokyo!
Come to Tokyo!
One of the couples who evacuated to Mizue Kanno's house, Hiroshi and Shoko Monma (ages 67 & 68), kept changing locations to evacuate. They were advised by their daughter who lived in Tokyo through mobile communication.
Their house was in the Kengendo area of Namie town, which was within a 10 km radius from the nuclear plant. On March 12, the town's disaster radio transmitted a call to the residents, “Please evacuate to Tsushima.” Hiroshi and Shoko Monma drove to their friend's house, Mizue's.
They arrived at the Kanno residence before noon. Shoko helped Mizue in the kitchen and made rice balls. After supper, 25 evacuees introduced themselves to each other. Hiroshi and Shoko knew many of them.
When they learned about the story of the men in white protective clothing, the couple hesitated to move again. But on the morning of the 13th, as Mizue convinced them to flee the area again, they took the advice and left before noon.
They drove north, to Minami Soma city. All shops and convenience stores were closed. They spotted a restaurant. The only item left on the menu was Natto Teishoku (a cultured-soybean dinner set), so they ordered two of those. Then, they found a hotel for that night, but only after they were refused by 3 other hotels.
On the 14th, they took a flight from Fukushima Airport to Tokyo. They got together with their first daughter on the 15th.
Their first daughter, Mariko (36), kept trying her parent's mobile phones when the disaster happened. They briefly made contact right after the earthquake of March 11, but that was it. After that, they could only communicate through emails.
But email communication, too, became unavailable for a while. Mariko emailed her parents at 8:43 a.m. on the 12th, “I'm praying to god for mother and father's safety.”
She combed through for the newest information on the nuclear accident from TV and internet, and continued to send them to her parents. At 9 a.m. on the 12th, when the hydrogen explosion occurred at the No1 reactor, she heard an expert saying, “It's ok.” So, she sent her parents a message that said “The explosion only caused damage to the exterior of the reactor, and they said it didn't scatter the radioactive materials.” What a big error that was!
She emailed them again on the 13th, when they were in Minami Soma city, “Come to Tokyo as soon as possible. Where you are is unsafe. The radiation has spread as far as to the area near the Onagawa nuclear plants.”
Again at noon on the 14th, she emailed them, “The No3 reactor had an explosion at 11:30 a.m. Come to Tokyo quick.” Her father responded with“We don't think we need to evacuate that far.” But Mariko snapped, “Just come here quickly anyway.”
“None of the people who were responsible offered any help to my parents.” She's left with an uneasy feeling of doubts.
Part 8: Couldn't sing “Furusato (Hometown)”
Couldn’t sing “Furusato (Hometown)”
Hiroshi Monma (67), who was among the 25 who evacuated to Mizue's, used to be a high school teacher. He has been actively protesting against the nuclear plants for 40 years since TEPCO started constructing Fukushima Daiichi. He and two other local residents started the protest. They used to meet at his municipal apartment. They continued to appeal to the governor and mayors of Fukushima about the danger of the nuclear plant. They recently started meeting with TEPCO on a monthly basis, and they were to have a meeting on March 22.
In the past, they brought a case against the other nuclear plant, Fukushima Daini, to court, but lost. He still remembers vividly what the supreme court judge in Sendai said to them.
“You need to think more calmly before being against it. We don't see how we can quit nuclear power.”
It's been 21 years since then. The fantasy that nuclear plants are safe collapsed like a house of cards.
“TEPCO's assumption was not at all well-thought-of. That assumption had brought astronomical damages to so many people. How are they ever going to take responsibilities to compensate for the damage?”
He also feels uneasy about Namie town's hypocritical stance to criticize the government and TEPCO. Tohoku Electric power company has had a plan to construct a nuclear plant in Namie town since 40 years ago. The Namie town council was even inviting it. Last year at the town assembly, the council chairman said looking towards him, “A Nuclear plant will secure a bright future for Namie town. I understand Prof. Monma is against it….”
When he made a furlough back to his house in July, he measured the radiation level around the house. It was 4 microSv/hr.
On their farm stood a persimmon tree that they planted when his first daughter, Mariko (36) was born. The tree has given many fruits, and it produced more than 300 fruits one year. “We can't eat the fruit anymore. It's been contaminated.”
30 years ago, he invited a theater group from Tokyo and produced a play that had a story in which people ran from the radiation after a nuclear accident. It became reality.
The couple currently live in an apartment in Kita ward in Tokyo. The rent is 13,500 yen/month, and it's a stretch but they decided on the place as it was close to their daughter's place. They put the temporary advance of 1,000,000 yen they received from TEPCO toward the rent.
Hiroshi liked to sing in a chorus. In July, they heard about a singing event, and decided to join. When they sang the song called “Furusato” (Hometown), both Hiroshi and Shoko choked up in the middle of the song, and couldn't continue singing.
Part 9: You can't see radiation
You can’t see radiation
Yasuko Sanpei (77) has lived in the Akougi area of Namie town. She moved from neighboring Iitate village when she got married 55 years ago. She and Mizue Kanno know each other through the folk song circle of the Namie public hall.
She lived alone in a house that stood on a narrow mountain road until the beginning of August.
Right after the earthquake, she and her first daughter and grandson evacuated to her granddaughter's one bedroom apartment in Kanagawa prefecture. The walls were so thin that she could even hear their neighbors eating a meal. It took her extra nerves to live in such a place. “The city life is not suitable for my age.” She returned to Akougi at the end of April. She was also worried about her dog and cat that she left at home.
In April, there were still several households staying put in the Akougi area. Soon, they all left, one by one. When the police started regulating traffic at a checkpoint near a 30 km radius, cars stopped coming through the area, too. It felt lonely. It was pitch dark at night. She tried not to think, but her hands trembled with worries, and the food didn’t go down her throat easily.
One day, she went for a drive to get some relief. She noticed that none of the houses were lit on the way home. She felt utterly scared thinking that no one would come to rescue her if she happened to fall off from a mountain road.
On Sundays, some men in working clothes that said “Ministry of Education & Science” on the back started to come by to measure the radiation level of the areas. When she spotted their van near her house, Yasuko went outside and asked them, “What’s today's reading?”“It's 15 micro-sieverts per hour,”a man answered.“Do you mind measuring around my house, too?”
On a different day, one of the Ministry men came to measure around her house. The outside of her house was 10 microSv/hr, and her living room was 5.5 microSv/hr. Both numbers are far exceeding the normal level. The man wrote them down and gave it to Yasuko.
The Ministry man quietly said to Yasuko on one Sunday in June. “I can now confess to you that this area measured over 100 microSv/hr at first. I couldn't tell you then. I am deeply sorry I didn't.”
The man gave Yasuko a map with radiation levels written in each area, advising her to use it“as a reference.” But Yasuko remained in Akougi until early August. She says,“You can't see radiation, and I didn't really understand what all the numbers meant, either.”
As she won the lottery for temporary housing in Nihonmatsu city, she left Akougi in the beginning of August. But she continues to drive 25 km back to her house every couple of days to feed her dog and cat.
Part 10: A silenced policeman
A silenced policeman
Kazuyo Sekiba (52) evacuated to her relative's house in Aizu Wakamatsu city on March 14. Her house was located in Minami Tsushima in Namie town a little south of Mizue Kanno's place.
She soon returned home on April 2, since there was no official evacuation orders. A few days later, a self-defense army jeep parked in front of her house, and out came a man. He said he was checking on the local residents.
Around that time, media reported that Namie town was among the places with high levels of radiation. She fearfully asked the man, “What’s the radiation level around here?” He smiled and answered that the area was safe. “We wear portable dosimeters to know how much radiation we get exposed to,” he added. Upon hearing his comment, Kazuyo felt at ease. She stopped hiding in the house, and started going out again.
April 17. A man approached her when she was on a bridge near her house. His name was Masaki Toyoda (55), a journalist. Kazuyo asked him to measure the radiation around her house. He complied, and started measuring many different areas around the house.
When he measured beneath the gutters at the front entrance of the house, he exclaimed,“Whoa, this is not good.”Kazuyo asked him to tell her the truth.“If you stay right here for 2 hours, you'll be exposed to 1 mili-sievert per hour,”he answered hesitantly.
According to Toyoda, the radiation level measured at the spot exceeded 500 microSv/hr. Just 2 hours of exposure to such an amount will exceed the safe annual exposure limit.
After learning those specific numbers from Toyoda, she realized how serious it was for the first time. She hastily packed and left as Toyoda saw her off.
A few days later, she returned to get her cat. A police car came onto the property. So she asked the policeman who looked roughly 30 years old, “This area was highly contaminated, wasn't it?”
“Yes, it was. High radiation. But I couldn't say anything because the government instructed us not to.” Kazuyo was utterly surprised. What about that self-defense military man who said the area was safe? Was he silenced, too?
“If it was their own family, I don't think they would have done the same. Rather, they would have advised them to flee the area before anyone else. Don't they care about us, strangers, at all?”
In July, news about the hidden evidence being discovered regarding the highway accident in China was reported. The Japanese media criticized the Chinese government's reaction of the case. It made Kazuyo angry and frustrated.
“It's the same in Japan, isn't it?!”
Part 11: Thanks to those two men…
Thanks to those two men…
25 people who initially evacuated to Mizue Kanno's house re-evacuated to other places and were able to avoid seriously dangerous situations thanks to the information given by the “men in white protective clothing” and Mizue's judgment of the situation.
It was a time of emergency. Large amounts of radioactive materials were scattered from Fukushima Daiichi. Anyone could have been exposed to a dangerous level of radiation in the surrounding areas, but the government or TEPCO didn't inform the local residents. Fortunately, those 25 people moved calmly without much fuss.
Mizue currently lives in temporary housing in Kori town near Fukushima city.
“Look at those children.” Mizue points to the kids playing in a vacant lot. “Poor little children. They carry the burden of evacuated life. I pray that they're not exposed to too much radiation….”
Mizue still thinks about the men in white protective clothing she encountered that day. Who were they?
In Fukushima prefecture, there were many organizations driving around to measure the radiation levels at that time; Ministry of Education & Science, Fukushima prefecture, Japan Nuclear Research & Development, TEPCO, Tohoku Electric, to name a few.
For example, a rescue & support team van from Niigata was there, too. They passed through the Tsushima area on the evening of March 12.
Two men from the Niigata prefecture office drove the van into Fukushima prefecture to give whatever support they could to counter the nuclear accident. They took Rt 114 into Namie town and passed the Tsushima area. They turned around when a policeman stopped them from going further at around 4 p.m. in the Kawabusa area.
In a recent interview with them, they asked not to have their names mentioned because they were internally exposed to some radiation.
According to them, their dosimeter alarm sound never stopped, which made them extremely nervous. When they passed the Tsushima area, they saw a lot of parked cars, and thought it was a shelter.
“Protective clothing? No, we weren't wearing those. We didn't get out of the van, either.”
At dawn of the 14th, a vehicle of the National Institute of Radiological Science passed through the Tsushima area. That was when most of those who evacuated there hadn't left the area yet. They were from the public relations division, and had measuring equipment on board, but“the main purpose of the mission was to transport some materials.”They did not measure radiation.
The two men Mizue encountered that day must have belonged to one of the radiation measuring teams.
“We were able to run from a serious danger because of the men's warning. How come the government or TEPCO didn't organize such a vital warning? That would have made a huge difference in many more people's lives.”
Part 12: The mayor of Shimo-Tsushima ward
The Mayor of Shimo-Tsushima ward
On March 13, after the 25 evacuees left the Kanno residence, Mizue paid a visit to the mayor of Shimo-Tsushima ward, Hidenori Konno (64), at his house, to tell him about the story of the men in white protective clothing.
He chose not to leave the area. He didn't think it was wise to panic without reliable information. But most of all, as the ward mayor, he could not leave before the residents.
March 15, at 10 a.m. He was summoned to the disaster headquarters of the Tsushima branch, and learned that they were moving the office to Nihonmatsu city for safety.
That made him wonder. Wasn't Tsushima safe, being 30 km away from Fukushima Daiichi? He couldn't comprehend the situation at first. Then he glanced at the TV, which was airing the press conference of the government officials. They issued an order for the residents in a 20~30 km radius to stay indoors. The office staff were glued to the TV screen.“Is this the reason that they're moving?”
In that afternoon, he made a personal round to all 50 households in Shimo-Tsushima ward to advise them to evacuate. Most households had already evacuated, but 10 of them still remained. He encouraged them to evacuate, but they refused. 3 of them said,“We've got cows to look after. We can't leave.”Some were bed-ridden elderly persons.
Mayor Konno let his wife (55) and his daughter (23) evacuate, but he remained. The area that once sheltered many evacuees became empty. Rain turned to snow that night, and the ground was covered in white. It was very quiet.
Perhaps some of the people weren't home the other day. On the 16th, he made another round of 50 house calls. 5 of them returned home from evacuation. One couple said that his wife was in a wheelchair, which made the shelter life even more challenging. Even using the bathroom was a big deal. The husband said,“We're old. The radiation doesn't matter. We'll live here.”Mayor Konno found an alternative facility where it was wheel chair accessible, and informed the couple.
“Our community is fading away.”
Mayor Konno felt a surge of frustration as he was driving though the empty neighborhoods. He used to work for the prefectural office. He was going to put an effort into the conservation of traditional local arts and crafts. Such a dream of his evaporated.
Mayor Konno borrowed a dosimeter from Namie town, and has been measuring the radiation levels of each household in his ward every month since July. He mails the information to the homeowners at their evacuated addresses. No one instructed him to do this. He somehow feels responsible. He regrets that he couldn't advise everyone to evacuate promptly. If only he knew the radiation level was high in Tsushima when Mizue told him about the story of the men in protective clothing.
He noticed more weeds growing in every neighborhood yard. The well-cared-for plant of his late father who died 3 years ago also withered.
Part 13: Backyard became wild
The backyard became wild
Kori town's temporary housing, where Mizue's family now lives, is about 40 km from Namie town. Once a month, they make a visit to their house.
There is a police check point on Rt 114 near a bend towards the Tsushima area. A policeman gets out of the patrol vehicle and checks your resident pass issued by the town.
At the end of August, they made their monthly visit back home. The neighborhood looks the same, but her portable dosimeter won't shut up its alarm. She has set it to sound the alarm at 3 microSv/hr or more.
“In order to buy this dosimeter, 210,000 yen quickly disappeared from the 1,000,000 yen we received from TEPCO as a temporary advance.”
They arrived at their house. When they held the dosimeter close to the ground at the front entrance, it jumped to 46 microSv/hr. Under the gutter in the back of the house measured 170 microSv/hr. Staying there for 6 hours exceeds the amount of radiation exposure of 1 milliSv/hr, which is considered the safe annual limit for an adult human.
Mizue is originally from Osaka. It was 2 years ago, her husband (60), who is from Namie town, inherited his parents'180-year-old house in Tsushima. They moved, and rebuilt the house. They decided to become hothouse vegetable growers there, and went through some training sessions on farming.
Their first son, Jun-ichi (27) who worked at an izakaya (pub restaurant) returned home to Tsushima to join them. To become better acquainted with the local people, he joined the local festival crews, and started taking Japanese drumming lessons.
They may never be able to return to their land to live.
Mizue has something to say to the government and TEPCO.“Drive down the road where you don't see a single person. Perhaps then, you'll be able to realize the scale of what you have done.”
The backyard of Mizue's house looks like a jungle of weeds that have grown taller than her. Wasps made a nest on the front door, and are buzzing around noisily. The neighborhood is full of sunflowers. The news reported that they absorb cesium, so everyone planted sunflowers. But if you let them wilt, the absorbed cesium will return into the soil, and the effort would be in vain.
Mizue had experienced the Kobe earthquake when she lived in Takagi city in Osaka prefecture. She volunteered to help the evacuees at the temporary housing sites, counseling the elderly of their health concerns.
“I never thought in a million years I'd end up living in temporary housing myself.”
―――
Original Japanese article by Motoyuki Maeda
Translated by Takako Tokuoka
Proofread by Michael DiBari
ひとりでも多くの人に、あの日、あの時、福島のある町で起こっていた真実を、知ってもらいたかった。
ありがたいことに、とても大勢の方が、ツィートなどで広げてくださり、読んでいただくことができた。
本当に感謝！
そして今日、この記事を読んだ、ここ東海岸に住んでおられるTakako Tokuokaさんが、なんと、全文を英訳してくださったことを知った。
Takakoさんの英語力は、わたしのそれとはまるで比べ物にならないにしても、あの文章を英文に替えるには、大変な思いをされただろうし、時間もそれ相応にかかったと思う。
本当にありがとう！
Men In Protective Clothing
“Men in protective clothing” is a series of shocking articles that are currently buzzing in Japan. I read it, tears filled up in my eyes. I decided to translate the full story into English. I felt their frustration and anguish. I wanted them to be heard. It could happen anywhere in the world…
I found a photo of Mrs. Mizue Kanno in front of the gate of the house on the original article published on Asahi Shinbun (newspaper) website. I can’t help, but to repost it here. Asahi Shinbun is currently running the second series right now.
Men in protective clothing
This is translated from a series of articles originally published in Asahi newspaper in Japan, titled “Prometheus’ Trap” by reporter Motoyuki Maeda. (The second series is currently run in the paper.)
It's about what really happened to a handful of people in a small town near Fukushima Daiichi. When I read the Japanese article, it moved me and made me cry. So I decided to translate it into English for the rest of the world.
Here's a link to a blog featuring the entire original Japanese articles. I'm not associated with Asahi newspaper. This is my voluntary work. I'm just a messenger.
―――
Prologue
According to Greek mythology, it was Prometheus who gave the gift of fire to humans.
Acquiring fire, humans thrived, cultures developed. The fire from fossil fuel sped up the progress. Eventually, humans acquired nuclear fire. It was once described to be a “dream energy.” Little did they know, there was a trap set within it.
Mankind, who built cultures upon Prometheus'fire is now troubled by the nuclear fire. Amid the failure of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, we think of the nation, its citizens, and the dependency on electric power.
―――
Men in protective clothing
Part 1: Please get out of this area…
Please get out of this area… (Originally published on Asahi Shinbun: 10/3/2011)
The Tsushima area of Namie town is located in the mountains of Fukushima prefecture, located about 30 kilometers northwest of TEPCO's Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant.
On March 12, the day after the nuclear accident occurred, 10,000 evacuees headed to the Tsushima area from the seafront areas within 10 kilometers of the nuclear plant. As all the emergency shelters - elementary and junior high schools, public halls, even temples - were filled, some people knocked on private residences.
Mizue Kanno (age 59) started receiving evacuees at her house in the morning. By night fall, the number grew to 25. Most of them were her relatives and acquaintances, and some strangers.
The house was large with an impressive gate, which was rebuilt where a 180-year-old house stood that belonged to her husband's family. It even sported a great room of 20 tatami mats, ideal for receiving evacuees. The driveway inside the gate was packed with evacuee's cars.
As they reached Mizue's house, they looked relieved. “We have no idea what had occurred at the nuclear plant, but it's probably far enough from the plant here.”
Mizue cooked 14 cups of rice in two pressure cookers for everyone. The menu for supper was rice balls and pork stew. After a long day of evacuating, everyone sat in the great room and dug in.
After dinner, people introduced themselves to each other, and agreed on some basic rules of living at Mizue's house.
- To avoid clogging the toilet, one must toss the tissues in the cardboard box next to it.
- Everyone must help prepare the food, and clean up afterwards.
- Let's be honest with each other.
They were to sleep in two rooms at the Kanno residence. Mizue offered all the futons and blankets she had.
Then, Mizue went outside for a moment and noticed there was a white van parked in front of the house. Two men who were wearing white protective clothing in the wagon shouted something at Mizue, but she couldn't hear well.
“What is it? What's wrong?”
She asked.
“What are you doing here?! Please get out of this area.”
Mizue was taken back.
“Get out …? But this is an emergency shelter.”
Two men got out of the wagon. Both of them were wearing respirator masks.
“Radioactive material is spreading.” One said seriously. The air was imminent.
Route 114 which ran in front of the house was jammed with cars of people who couldn't find shelters. The men in protective gear also shouted at the people who got out of their cars to “get back inside of the cars.”
Then they headed towards Fukushima city in the white van. They weren't going to the town hall branches, nor to post warnings on message boards.
The government said outside of a 10km radius of the nuclear plant was safe. But why were those two men wearing respirator masks? Let alone the protective clothing? Who were those people?
Mizue wondered. She hurried inside, and reported what she had just heard.
Part 2: Re-evacuation
Re-evacuation
March 12, 2011, in the evening - Mizue went back inside the house and reported to everyone what she was just told by the men in protective gear. A meeting started.
“Well, let's wait and see… Wouldn't the town officials or the police warn us if it's seriously dangerous to stay here?” No one wanted to move again as they just got settled in after a hard day.
Later that night, the situation changed rapidly. One of the evacuees noticed that a few buses entered the public hall parking lot, which was one of the official emergency shelters. When one of the bus drivers was asked why, he said he was ordered to move the evacuees.
At the time, Namie town had chartered a few buses to transport people who were left behind within the 20 kilometer radius of the plant to the Tsushima area. But Mizue didn't know about it. Instead, she started to doubt that her house was safe. She woke up the people, and started another meeting.
Still, most people didn't want to leave. One woman, however, said, “If we all remained here, Mizue's family wouldn't be able to leave, could they?” That changed everything. They decided upon evacuating.
“We will go as far as possible until the gas runs out.” The first ones to flee were 2 young couples who left at midnight. One couple had a month-old infant and another had a toddler. They hesitated at first saying, “We really don't want to drive through the mountain roads at night.” But Mizue pressed, “Please go for the sake of your children,” and handed them some rice balls for the road.
The next morning on the 13th, they had another meeting. Another young couple who didn't want to move decided to flee “for their children.” An older woman let them borrow her car, saying, “I can take the bus from the town shelter as I'm by myself.”
By that evening, all 25 evacuees at the Kannos re-evacuated to Fukushima city, Koriyama city and Minami Soma city.
Mizue went around the neighborhood to tell others about what the men in protective clothing had told her. A man laughed and responded, “I used to work for TEPCO. The nuclear plant we built can't be that dangerous.” He fled from the tsunami, not from the nuclear accident. It deflated Mizue. She and her first son, Jun-ichi (age 27) decided to remain.
Jun-ichi was volunteering in the kitchen of a shelter, making rice balls. “I can't just run away from here.”
At that point in time, the dosimeters with 30 micro-sievert capacity flung the needles to the max just a mere 10 kilometers from the Tsushima area.
Part 3: Why is that policeman wearing such an outfit?
Why is that policeman wearing such an outfit?
As of March 13, after 25 people left the Kanno family home, many evacuees still remained in the Tsushima area. The exclusion zone widened to a 10 km radius at 5:44 a.m. on the 12th. Then it widened again to a 20 km radius at 6:25 p.m. after the No1 reactor had an hydrogen explosion.
But Sachio Edano, Japan's chief cabinet secretary, said at the evening press conference on the 12th, “[The explosion] wasn't going to leak much radioactive materials. We don't think it would affect the areas outside of a 20 km radius from the plant.” In other words, the message was‘it's not so bad, but please evacuate just in case’more or less. People believed that the Tsushima area, which lies within a 30 km radius from the plant, was safe.
TEPCO employees visited the Tsushima branch in Namie town on the 12th and on the 13th. They weren't wearing protective gear. They didn't say “it was dangerous to stay here.” Big difference between their state and the two men who advised Mizue to leave the area the other night.
Town officials and the mayor hadn't seen the men in protective clothing. Mizue kept a note and wrote down everything she saw and heard.
Early in the morning on the 15th, an impacted bang was heard from the No2 reactor, following the explosion at the No3 reactor the day before. Then another explosion occurred in the No4 reactor. For the first time, the government requested that anyone in a 20~30 km radius should “stay indoors.”
Around that time, the residents of the Tsushima area began to evacuate. Upon learning about the No3 reactor explosion of the 14th on TV, Mayor Baba decided to have the residents of Namie town voluntarily evacuate to the neighboring town of Nihonmatsu city, starting March 15.
At 9 a.m. on the 15th, they measured 11,930 micro-sieverts per hour at the main gate of Fukushima Daiichi. Chief Secretary Edano's comments were still optimistic.
“The radiation levels are much less and diluted beyond a 20 km radius, and its effect on human health is either minimal or none.”“All three reactors, No1~3, are getting dowsed with water, and cooling.”
The fact that the reactors suffered meltdowns on March 12 wasn't reported to the Japanese citizens until much later.
A traffic policeman wore protective clothing in the morning of the 12th in Namie town.
The residents wondered, “Why is that policeman wearing such an outfit?”
The chairman of the town council, Kazuki Yoshida (age 65) visited the police station, and requested the policemen “not to wear protective clothing because it worries the residents.”
Yoshida comments [now] “We were the only ones who didn't know [the truth].”
Part 4: This is murder…
This is murder…
SPEEDY is a computer simulation system, in which the Japanese government has invested 13 billion yen. It instantaneously calculates and shows where radioactive materials spread by feeding the actual data such as radiation levels, topography, weather, and wind.
The radioactive materials spread towards the Tsushima area, but the government did not inform the residents.
Fukushima prefecture officials also knew about the results of the SPEEDY. The night of the 12th, they requested the information from the Center for Nuclear Safety in Tokyo and got the information by email, but they didn't act on it. The emails were eventually deleted.
The first time this information was made available to the Tsushima area residents was May 20, more than two months later only because the issue was brought up in the Prefectural assembly.
To offer an apology on May 20, the prefecture sent a representative to the Towa branch in Nihonmatsu city where Namie town had moved their office functions.
“This is murder…,” Mayor Tamotsu Baba protested. According to him, the prefecture rep apologized profusely through tears that they hadn't reported the results of the SPEEDY.
That was not all. The Fukushima prefecture officials have been measuring the radiation levels of many areas as early as the day after the accident on March 12.
At 9 a.m. on March 12, they measured 15 microSv/hr in the Saki area of Namie town, 14 microSv/hr in the Takase area. Two areas showed relatively higher readings compared to other towns of Fukushima. These measurements were taken 6 plus hours prior to the hydrogen explosion at the No1 reactor, and there were a lot of evacuees in the vicinity.
All these numbers were posted later on the homepage of the Ministry of Economy & Industry, but their importance was lost in the rest of the numbers neatly charted alongside.
At the end of August, Kazuo Ueda, the head of the rescue team operation at Namie town, was shocked to see such a document. “I've never seen this before. Why didn't the government or the prefecture inform us?”
Mizue Kanno says, “Does this mean that our nation abandoned us?”
Part 5: Am I gonna die??
Am I gonna die?
So what happened to those 25 evacuees who were at the Kanno residence that day?
One of them, Misako Yatsuda (age 62) currently lives in municipal housing in Kasugai city in Aichi prefecture. She's a distant relative of Mizue. She has a house in the Onoda area of Namie town. It's about 20 km closer to the ocean, and within a 10 km radius of Fukushima Daiichi.
March 11, she was home at the time of the earthquake. In the early morning of March 12, her second daughter and her family rushed to her place, “It's not safe here. We have to get out of here.” They left by 9 a.m.
Route 114 towards the Tsushima area was already in a massive traffic jam. They took Rt 6 north to Minami Soma city, and reached Misako's first daughter's house in the Odaka area. There, they learned about the hydrogen explosion, and together they drove to Tsushima.
It was already passed 6 p.m. when they got to Mizue's house. Other evacuees there had just finished eating supper.
They were exhausted after running around all day, but attended the meeting otherwise. It was Misako's idea to use the cardboard box for the used toilet paper to prevent the toilet from clogging. She got the idea from the time she traveled to Mexico.
Their sense of relief was very short lived as Mizue told them about the warning made by the men in protective clothing. Misako's second daughter’s family of 7 including a month old infant, and her first daughter's family of 4 fled that night. Misako herself left the next evening on the 13th.
Misako didn't have anywhere particular to go, but headed toward Koriyama city, further away from the plant. Koriyama city was measuring radiation exposure levels of every evacuee coming into the city. As an instrument was held near Misako, the meter flung out. “Am I going to die?” Misako cried to the person measuring.
That night, she slept in the car.
March 15, in the morning, she got in touch with her husband at last, who was in Soma city at the time of the earthquake. They got together at Aizu Wakamatsu city, and headed to Kasugai city (Aichi) where her sister lived via Niigata prefecture.
12 days of running around without any support or information from the government or TEPCO.
“Nuclear power is safe,” they were told many times. Their lives based on that assumption totally crumbled away.
But it's true that nuclear plants have been good for the residents. “We can't say it was all bad.” Misako sighs.
Part 6: Flies were buzzing…
Flies were buzzing…
Misako Yatsuda (62) was born and raised in Namie town. She was in junior high school when TEPCO started constructing Fukushima Daiichi. After graduating from high school, she left Namie town to work in Tokyo for a year and half. When she returned to Namie town, her life was involved with TEPCO all the way.
She got married and had three children. She and her husband opened a yakitori (chicken kabob) diner. TEPCO workers were their regular customers. Later, she went to work at the TEPCO dormitories where she worked for 10 years until last year. She cooked for the employees. She was loved by many young employees who adoringly called her “YatsuDutch.” The women's dormitory housed some of the recently popular players of Nadeshiko Japan (Women’s soccer team) including Aya Samejima. She recalls, “They were all good and lovely girls.”
After her children grew up, she moved into the TEPCO dorm where management staff lived. She still remembers how the management staff geared up during the election time. Whenever there was to be an election for mayors or governors, the dorm's dining room became their hang out. They all rushed to congratulate when the candidates whom they were supporting got elected. She was impressed how “the power company and politics were firmly intertwined.”
She spent half of her life involved with TEPCO. For this nuclear accident, however, no information was offered by TEPCO. After moving to Kasugai city, Aichi prefecture, she got even less news. She subscribed to a local Fukushima paper, and scanned through everything.
What's going to happen to our lives in the future? What about the compensation for the damage? Full of worries.
In June, she and her husband made a furlough back to their house in Namie town. The earthquake left the refrigerator fallen sideways on the floor, and flies were buzzing around the rotten food.
At the end of August, they made another trip back home to get her car. Her husband drove 8 hours from Kasugai city to get to the gymnasium in Hirano town, where they changed into protective clothing, and got on a chartered bus. When they got off the bus, two dogs with collars came to their feet. On the way, they saw two dead cats.
“With one wrong step, perhaps we might have ended up like them.”
After the nuclear accident, Misako's first daughter's family evacuated to Koriyama, and second daughter's family to Niigata. Her family, that once lived close from one another, was now scattered. In September, they applied for temporary housing in Fukushima. “We want to go back there. We lived there for many decades…” Tears filled up her eyes.
Part 7: Come to Tokyo!
Come to Tokyo!
One of the couples who evacuated to Mizue Kanno's house, Hiroshi and Shoko Monma (ages 67 & 68), kept changing locations to evacuate. They were advised by their daughter who lived in Tokyo through mobile communication.
Their house was in the Kengendo area of Namie town, which was within a 10 km radius from the nuclear plant. On March 12, the town's disaster radio transmitted a call to the residents, “Please evacuate to Tsushima.” Hiroshi and Shoko Monma drove to their friend's house, Mizue's.
They arrived at the Kanno residence before noon. Shoko helped Mizue in the kitchen and made rice balls. After supper, 25 evacuees introduced themselves to each other. Hiroshi and Shoko knew many of them.
When they learned about the story of the men in white protective clothing, the couple hesitated to move again. But on the morning of the 13th, as Mizue convinced them to flee the area again, they took the advice and left before noon.
They drove north, to Minami Soma city. All shops and convenience stores were closed. They spotted a restaurant. The only item left on the menu was Natto Teishoku (a cultured-soybean dinner set), so they ordered two of those. Then, they found a hotel for that night, but only after they were refused by 3 other hotels.
On the 14th, they took a flight from Fukushima Airport to Tokyo. They got together with their first daughter on the 15th.
Their first daughter, Mariko (36), kept trying her parent's mobile phones when the disaster happened. They briefly made contact right after the earthquake of March 11, but that was it. After that, they could only communicate through emails.
But email communication, too, became unavailable for a while. Mariko emailed her parents at 8:43 a.m. on the 12th, “I'm praying to god for mother and father's safety.”
She combed through for the newest information on the nuclear accident from TV and internet, and continued to send them to her parents. At 9 a.m. on the 12th, when the hydrogen explosion occurred at the No1 reactor, she heard an expert saying, “It's ok.” So, she sent her parents a message that said “The explosion only caused damage to the exterior of the reactor, and they said it didn't scatter the radioactive materials.” What a big error that was!
She emailed them again on the 13th, when they were in Minami Soma city, “Come to Tokyo as soon as possible. Where you are is unsafe. The radiation has spread as far as to the area near the Onagawa nuclear plants.”
Again at noon on the 14th, she emailed them, “The No3 reactor had an explosion at 11:30 a.m. Come to Tokyo quick.” Her father responded with“We don't think we need to evacuate that far.” But Mariko snapped, “Just come here quickly anyway.”
“None of the people who were responsible offered any help to my parents.” She's left with an uneasy feeling of doubts.
Part 8: Couldn't sing “Furusato (Hometown)”
Couldn’t sing “Furusato (Hometown)”
Hiroshi Monma (67), who was among the 25 who evacuated to Mizue's, used to be a high school teacher. He has been actively protesting against the nuclear plants for 40 years since TEPCO started constructing Fukushima Daiichi. He and two other local residents started the protest. They used to meet at his municipal apartment. They continued to appeal to the governor and mayors of Fukushima about the danger of the nuclear plant. They recently started meeting with TEPCO on a monthly basis, and they were to have a meeting on March 22.
In the past, they brought a case against the other nuclear plant, Fukushima Daini, to court, but lost. He still remembers vividly what the supreme court judge in Sendai said to them.
“You need to think more calmly before being against it. We don't see how we can quit nuclear power.”
It's been 21 years since then. The fantasy that nuclear plants are safe collapsed like a house of cards.
“TEPCO's assumption was not at all well-thought-of. That assumption had brought astronomical damages to so many people. How are they ever going to take responsibilities to compensate for the damage?”
He also feels uneasy about Namie town's hypocritical stance to criticize the government and TEPCO. Tohoku Electric power company has had a plan to construct a nuclear plant in Namie town since 40 years ago. The Namie town council was even inviting it. Last year at the town assembly, the council chairman said looking towards him, “A Nuclear plant will secure a bright future for Namie town. I understand Prof. Monma is against it….”
When he made a furlough back to his house in July, he measured the radiation level around the house. It was 4 microSv/hr.
On their farm stood a persimmon tree that they planted when his first daughter, Mariko (36) was born. The tree has given many fruits, and it produced more than 300 fruits one year. “We can't eat the fruit anymore. It's been contaminated.”
30 years ago, he invited a theater group from Tokyo and produced a play that had a story in which people ran from the radiation after a nuclear accident. It became reality.
The couple currently live in an apartment in Kita ward in Tokyo. The rent is 13,500 yen/month, and it's a stretch but they decided on the place as it was close to their daughter's place. They put the temporary advance of 1,000,000 yen they received from TEPCO toward the rent.
Hiroshi liked to sing in a chorus. In July, they heard about a singing event, and decided to join. When they sang the song called “Furusato” (Hometown), both Hiroshi and Shoko choked up in the middle of the song, and couldn't continue singing.
Part 9: You can't see radiation
You can’t see radiation
Yasuko Sanpei (77) has lived in the Akougi area of Namie town. She moved from neighboring Iitate village when she got married 55 years ago. She and Mizue Kanno know each other through the folk song circle of the Namie public hall.
She lived alone in a house that stood on a narrow mountain road until the beginning of August.
Right after the earthquake, she and her first daughter and grandson evacuated to her granddaughter's one bedroom apartment in Kanagawa prefecture. The walls were so thin that she could even hear their neighbors eating a meal. It took her extra nerves to live in such a place. “The city life is not suitable for my age.” She returned to Akougi at the end of April. She was also worried about her dog and cat that she left at home.
In April, there were still several households staying put in the Akougi area. Soon, they all left, one by one. When the police started regulating traffic at a checkpoint near a 30 km radius, cars stopped coming through the area, too. It felt lonely. It was pitch dark at night. She tried not to think, but her hands trembled with worries, and the food didn’t go down her throat easily.
One day, she went for a drive to get some relief. She noticed that none of the houses were lit on the way home. She felt utterly scared thinking that no one would come to rescue her if she happened to fall off from a mountain road.
On Sundays, some men in working clothes that said “Ministry of Education & Science” on the back started to come by to measure the radiation level of the areas. When she spotted their van near her house, Yasuko went outside and asked them, “What’s today's reading?”“It's 15 micro-sieverts per hour,”a man answered.“Do you mind measuring around my house, too?”
On a different day, one of the Ministry men came to measure around her house. The outside of her house was 10 microSv/hr, and her living room was 5.5 microSv/hr. Both numbers are far exceeding the normal level. The man wrote them down and gave it to Yasuko.
The Ministry man quietly said to Yasuko on one Sunday in June. “I can now confess to you that this area measured over 100 microSv/hr at first. I couldn't tell you then. I am deeply sorry I didn't.”
The man gave Yasuko a map with radiation levels written in each area, advising her to use it“as a reference.” But Yasuko remained in Akougi until early August. She says,“You can't see radiation, and I didn't really understand what all the numbers meant, either.”
As she won the lottery for temporary housing in Nihonmatsu city, she left Akougi in the beginning of August. But she continues to drive 25 km back to her house every couple of days to feed her dog and cat.
Part 10: A silenced policeman
A silenced policeman
Kazuyo Sekiba (52) evacuated to her relative's house in Aizu Wakamatsu city on March 14. Her house was located in Minami Tsushima in Namie town a little south of Mizue Kanno's place.
She soon returned home on April 2, since there was no official evacuation orders. A few days later, a self-defense army jeep parked in front of her house, and out came a man. He said he was checking on the local residents.
Around that time, media reported that Namie town was among the places with high levels of radiation. She fearfully asked the man, “What’s the radiation level around here?” He smiled and answered that the area was safe. “We wear portable dosimeters to know how much radiation we get exposed to,” he added. Upon hearing his comment, Kazuyo felt at ease. She stopped hiding in the house, and started going out again.
April 17. A man approached her when she was on a bridge near her house. His name was Masaki Toyoda (55), a journalist. Kazuyo asked him to measure the radiation around her house. He complied, and started measuring many different areas around the house.
When he measured beneath the gutters at the front entrance of the house, he exclaimed,“Whoa, this is not good.”Kazuyo asked him to tell her the truth.“If you stay right here for 2 hours, you'll be exposed to 1 mili-sievert per hour,”he answered hesitantly.
According to Toyoda, the radiation level measured at the spot exceeded 500 microSv/hr. Just 2 hours of exposure to such an amount will exceed the safe annual exposure limit.
After learning those specific numbers from Toyoda, she realized how serious it was for the first time. She hastily packed and left as Toyoda saw her off.
A few days later, she returned to get her cat. A police car came onto the property. So she asked the policeman who looked roughly 30 years old, “This area was highly contaminated, wasn't it?”
“Yes, it was. High radiation. But I couldn't say anything because the government instructed us not to.” Kazuyo was utterly surprised. What about that self-defense military man who said the area was safe? Was he silenced, too?
“If it was their own family, I don't think they would have done the same. Rather, they would have advised them to flee the area before anyone else. Don't they care about us, strangers, at all?”
In July, news about the hidden evidence being discovered regarding the highway accident in China was reported. The Japanese media criticized the Chinese government's reaction of the case. It made Kazuyo angry and frustrated.
“It's the same in Japan, isn't it?!”
Part 11: Thanks to those two men…
Thanks to those two men…
25 people who initially evacuated to Mizue Kanno's house re-evacuated to other places and were able to avoid seriously dangerous situations thanks to the information given by the “men in white protective clothing” and Mizue's judgment of the situation.
It was a time of emergency. Large amounts of radioactive materials were scattered from Fukushima Daiichi. Anyone could have been exposed to a dangerous level of radiation in the surrounding areas, but the government or TEPCO didn't inform the local residents. Fortunately, those 25 people moved calmly without much fuss.
Mizue currently lives in temporary housing in Kori town near Fukushima city.
“Look at those children.” Mizue points to the kids playing in a vacant lot. “Poor little children. They carry the burden of evacuated life. I pray that they're not exposed to too much radiation….”
Mizue still thinks about the men in white protective clothing she encountered that day. Who were they?
In Fukushima prefecture, there were many organizations driving around to measure the radiation levels at that time; Ministry of Education & Science, Fukushima prefecture, Japan Nuclear Research & Development, TEPCO, Tohoku Electric, to name a few.
For example, a rescue & support team van from Niigata was there, too. They passed through the Tsushima area on the evening of March 12.
Two men from the Niigata prefecture office drove the van into Fukushima prefecture to give whatever support they could to counter the nuclear accident. They took Rt 114 into Namie town and passed the Tsushima area. They turned around when a policeman stopped them from going further at around 4 p.m. in the Kawabusa area.
In a recent interview with them, they asked not to have their names mentioned because they were internally exposed to some radiation.
According to them, their dosimeter alarm sound never stopped, which made them extremely nervous. When they passed the Tsushima area, they saw a lot of parked cars, and thought it was a shelter.
“Protective clothing? No, we weren't wearing those. We didn't get out of the van, either.”
At dawn of the 14th, a vehicle of the National Institute of Radiological Science passed through the Tsushima area. That was when most of those who evacuated there hadn't left the area yet. They were from the public relations division, and had measuring equipment on board, but“the main purpose of the mission was to transport some materials.”They did not measure radiation.
The two men Mizue encountered that day must have belonged to one of the radiation measuring teams.
“We were able to run from a serious danger because of the men's warning. How come the government or TEPCO didn't organize such a vital warning? That would have made a huge difference in many more people's lives.”
Part 12: The mayor of Shimo-Tsushima ward
The Mayor of Shimo-Tsushima ward
On March 13, after the 25 evacuees left the Kanno residence, Mizue paid a visit to the mayor of Shimo-Tsushima ward, Hidenori Konno (64), at his house, to tell him about the story of the men in white protective clothing.
He chose not to leave the area. He didn't think it was wise to panic without reliable information. But most of all, as the ward mayor, he could not leave before the residents.
March 15, at 10 a.m. He was summoned to the disaster headquarters of the Tsushima branch, and learned that they were moving the office to Nihonmatsu city for safety.
That made him wonder. Wasn't Tsushima safe, being 30 km away from Fukushima Daiichi? He couldn't comprehend the situation at first. Then he glanced at the TV, which was airing the press conference of the government officials. They issued an order for the residents in a 20~30 km radius to stay indoors. The office staff were glued to the TV screen.“Is this the reason that they're moving?”
In that afternoon, he made a personal round to all 50 households in Shimo-Tsushima ward to advise them to evacuate. Most households had already evacuated, but 10 of them still remained. He encouraged them to evacuate, but they refused. 3 of them said,“We've got cows to look after. We can't leave.”Some were bed-ridden elderly persons.
Mayor Konno let his wife (55) and his daughter (23) evacuate, but he remained. The area that once sheltered many evacuees became empty. Rain turned to snow that night, and the ground was covered in white. It was very quiet.
Perhaps some of the people weren't home the other day. On the 16th, he made another round of 50 house calls. 5 of them returned home from evacuation. One couple said that his wife was in a wheelchair, which made the shelter life even more challenging. Even using the bathroom was a big deal. The husband said,“We're old. The radiation doesn't matter. We'll live here.”Mayor Konno found an alternative facility where it was wheel chair accessible, and informed the couple.
“Our community is fading away.”
Mayor Konno felt a surge of frustration as he was driving though the empty neighborhoods. He used to work for the prefectural office. He was going to put an effort into the conservation of traditional local arts and crafts. Such a dream of his evaporated.
Mayor Konno borrowed a dosimeter from Namie town, and has been measuring the radiation levels of each household in his ward every month since July. He mails the information to the homeowners at their evacuated addresses. No one instructed him to do this. He somehow feels responsible. He regrets that he couldn't advise everyone to evacuate promptly. If only he knew the radiation level was high in Tsushima when Mizue told him about the story of the men in protective clothing.
He noticed more weeds growing in every neighborhood yard. The well-cared-for plant of his late father who died 3 years ago also withered.
Part 13: Backyard became wild
The backyard became wild
Kori town's temporary housing, where Mizue's family now lives, is about 40 km from Namie town. Once a month, they make a visit to their house.
There is a police check point on Rt 114 near a bend towards the Tsushima area. A policeman gets out of the patrol vehicle and checks your resident pass issued by the town.
At the end of August, they made their monthly visit back home. The neighborhood looks the same, but her portable dosimeter won't shut up its alarm. She has set it to sound the alarm at 3 microSv/hr or more.
“In order to buy this dosimeter, 210,000 yen quickly disappeared from the 1,000,000 yen we received from TEPCO as a temporary advance.”
They arrived at their house. When they held the dosimeter close to the ground at the front entrance, it jumped to 46 microSv/hr. Under the gutter in the back of the house measured 170 microSv/hr. Staying there for 6 hours exceeds the amount of radiation exposure of 1 milliSv/hr, which is considered the safe annual limit for an adult human.
Mizue is originally from Osaka. It was 2 years ago, her husband (60), who is from Namie town, inherited his parents'180-year-old house in Tsushima. They moved, and rebuilt the house. They decided to become hothouse vegetable growers there, and went through some training sessions on farming.
Their first son, Jun-ichi (27) who worked at an izakaya (pub restaurant) returned home to Tsushima to join them. To become better acquainted with the local people, he joined the local festival crews, and started taking Japanese drumming lessons.
They may never be able to return to their land to live.
Mizue has something to say to the government and TEPCO.“Drive down the road where you don't see a single person. Perhaps then, you'll be able to realize the scale of what you have done.”
The backyard of Mizue's house looks like a jungle of weeds that have grown taller than her. Wasps made a nest on the front door, and are buzzing around noisily. The neighborhood is full of sunflowers. The news reported that they absorb cesium, so everyone planted sunflowers. But if you let them wilt, the absorbed cesium will return into the soil, and the effort would be in vain.
Mizue had experienced the Kobe earthquake when she lived in Takagi city in Osaka prefecture. She volunteered to help the evacuees at the temporary housing sites, counseling the elderly of their health concerns.
“I never thought in a million years I'd end up living in temporary housing myself.”
―――
Original Japanese article by Motoyuki Maeda
Translated by Takako Tokuoka
Proofread by Michael DiBari
