Dealing with the dead has become a pressing problem in Ishinomaki. The town’s deputy mayor, Etsuro Kitamura, estimates that 10 000 out of a population of 160 000 may have died in the tsunami that pulverised the Japanese coast on March 11.
Although cremations are traditional, they are not an option, given the shortage of fuel and the lack of facilities. “Our city has only one crematorium, which can handle perhaps 18 bodies a day,” Kitamura said. “If there are 10 000 dead it will take 500 days to burn them all. “Close to 20 000 people lived in coastal communities that were far from high ground,” Kitamura said.
“There was nowhere for them to flee. We don’t know for sure that they are dead and we hope they escaped, but the chances are slim. They are probably buried or washed out to sea.”
Local schools have become morgues, but in spite of the low temperatures, the bodies cannot be kept for long in these temporary facilities. The local government is considering mass burials. The immediate concern, however, is for the living, who are desperately short of essentials, particularly food and fuel.
The central government has dispatched troops and pledged to send extra volunteers and food supplies. In Ishinomaki the food has to be transported by helicopter to a nearby football stadium. But the relief operation does not appear to match the scale of a disaster still not properly understood.
“What we have been given so far is not enough,” said Kitamura. “Our needs are enormous. People have lost their homes. They will be here a long time.” Getting supplies to the area is difficult. The regional refinery at Shioyama has burned down, so oil will have to come from further afield. But the pressure on limited supplies is intense across the country.
Fuel limit
According to the state media, the hauliers’ association has asked the government to tap the country’s oil reserves because it is able to deliver only 60% of the normal amount of fresh produce. Most petrol stations in Miyagi have closed. Cars are queuing for hours at the dwindling number that still have fuel, but they are limited to about seven litres.
“At this rate, I think we have enough for one more day, perhaps a little more,” said manager Nobuhiko Araki. “I don’t know when the next tanker will come in.” There are food delivery difficulties across a widening swathe of north-east Japan. More than 100km from the disaster zone supermarkets are rationing shoppers to two pieces of bread each. The same refrain can be heard again and again in the disaster zone, where food has been slow to arrive. For many the situation is desperate.
“I’m hungry. So are my four children. All we have to eat each day is one banana and a rice ball,” said Hiroko Kodo, a care manager in an old people’s home. It is a similar story in the city’s 106 evacuation centres, which house 39 854 people. They camp on the office floor, lie across rows of chairs and spend hours watching the threatened nuclear meltdown and the disaster aftermath on the television. The grim scenes are at least a distraction from a rumbling stomach.
“I haven’t had breakfast or lunch today. We just get one very small meal — a single rice ball or piece of bread,” said Mieko Kono, a hostess bar “mama-san”, who looks spectacularly out of place in the municipal office, dolled up as she is in her work clothes of leopard-print top and slacks. “I’m hungry, but I think the local officials are wonderful. I would have died if they hadn’t come to rescue me from the tsunami.”
Hers is not the only tale of dramatic escape and admiration for the heroism of public-spirited citizens and local officials. Under a neighbouring blanket Sumiko Saito is trying, without success, to sleep amid the crowds and noise of the refugee centre. After the earthquake she was trapped between fallen beams in the hairdressing salon she owns. An English teacher heard her cries and called local officials to help. Six of them dragged her out of the damaged building and carried her to safety as the tsunami approached.
Calmness
“If they had been even a moment later, I would have died,” she said. Kumiyaki Sato, a sake shop manager, had just been evacuated from the centre after losing his elderly mother when the tsunami hit. “She was trapped in a car. I was pulled under the water and thought I would die. I saw a ship surge over my head. It rammed into a building. It was terrifying.”
The gratitude and politeness of the refugees is striking, though for the moment it may reflect relief about surviving the disaster as much as the fabled Japanese spirit of forbearance. First Lieutenant Hideo Amagai of the Self-Defence Forces said his unit arrived on Sunday night and rescued 200 people. “They have been extremely calm and polite. There is no sense of panic. People don’t shout ‘Help!’, they ask: ‘Please assist me’.”
But the situation could change if fresh relief does not come soon. “Water, food and petrol are a problem,” said Amagai, who heads a unit of 90 troops. “We have more than most, but even for us, supplies are tight.” Prime Minister Naoto Kan has called for calm, endurance and unity in the face of what he described as “the country’s worst crisis since the war”.
His slow response has been widely pilloried, but there is praise for the heroism of the nuclear engineers in the Fukushima No 1 plant who are exposing themselves to dangerously high levels of radiation as they try to stabilise the temperature of the stricken reactors. Social stability is another concern. In the disaster zone there have been very few reports so far of crime or violence, though several refugees said a small number of looters had been entering deserted homes to steal valuables.
In Kesennuma people have siphoned petrol from the tanks of crushed and abandoned cars. But for the most part civility has held up well. Officials at the centre say 95% of the refugees have followed the rules and etiquette, but inevitably the stress gets too much for some. “There have been a few arguments and complaints. It’s normal given the conditions,” said Yoshinori Sato, the municipal press secretary.
“I don’t know how long we can put up with this. But we must endure. That’s a characteristic of the Japanese people. “We will have to demonstrate it with great effort in the days and months ahead. It may be a very long time until we can return to our homes.” — Guardian News & Media 2011