Quakebook

Originally written on March 25, 2011 for http://traviews.com.

It has been two weeks since I felt the earthquake (at 5.0 magnitude where I live in west Tokyo—approximately 250 miles from the epicenter).

Five days later, I finally broke down and cried.

Seventeen years ago, I was 10 when my mother woke me up during the middle of the night, and I found our room shaking. Luckily for us, only a few things fell down. My most vivid memory of that incident was laying in bed with my mom as she prayed the rosary during the aftershocks that seemed stronger than the initial quake. Her calmness about the situation made me feel that everything was okay, and so I fell back asleep. It wasn’t until I watched the news that morning that I realized how much damage resulted from the 6.7 Northridge Earthquake.

It was déjà vu on March 11, 2011. After a fun-filled week touring Tokyo, Hiroshima and Miyajima with friends visiting from the States, the kids and I said many goodbyes on Friday. In the middle of the night, I dropped off my husband at Yokota AB so that he could leave for a mission at an undisclosed location. Later that afternoon, the kids and I watched our friends board onto a shuttle bound for Narita International Airport. Exhausted, the kids and I went home and took a nap. At 2:46pm, I woke up from my nap to find our house shaking. I had been through many earthquakes before, but this felt like it was never going to end. Again, we were lucky with nothing falling off our shelves and walls.

Surprisingly, my kids slept through the earthquake—they finally woke up during one of the aftershocks; and my two-year-old said, “It’s shaking, Mom. It’s shaking!” Even though nothing fell down, I kept feeling like if these aftershocks kept continuing, our house was going to eventually fall off its foundation.

Once the aftershocks stopped, I decided to visit the BX and Commissary since we were low on some household items. We walked into the stores, and there were half-full carts stranded all over the stores as well as team members restocking fallen items onto the shelves. I saw a few people watching the news, but I thought they were just talking about the recent earthquake. It wasn’t until we returned home, and I turned on the TV that I saw the devastating events that happened north of us.

At that moment, I felt that I needed to keep it together for the kids. I remembered my mom during the Northridge Earthquake, and I remained calm. Except with each aftershock that I felt for the next few days until I left for my trip to Singapore, I felt like I was losing my grip. It was different being the parent this time around as my decisions don’t just affect me but also two little children. Every time I watched the news, read the news, read concerning emails, I felt like everything was not going to be okay. I felt like my days were consumed with learning about the earthquake, tsunami, victims, and radiation and how they affected us.

Four nights later, I actually started writing a post on here about my experience, but then I felt another earthquake. I found out that it was at a 6.2 magnitude in Fujinomiya—about 54 miles southwest from where we live. I stopped writing, and I just kept researching. Learning that it happened near Mt. Fuji terrified me. I started imagining more aftershocks happening around the area causing a volcanic eruption.

The next night, I was watching World News with Diane Sawyer where Hiroshima survivors shared their stories. Having visited the A-Bomb Dome, Children’s Peace Monument, Peace Memorial Park, and Peace Memorial Museum the previous week, I started crying. I remembered Sadako Sasaki, a little girl who died of leukemia 10 years after the atomic bombing; and I began to fear for my two kids, 2 and 13 months at the time of the nuclear reactor explosions in Fukushima.

My strength was continually tested. As I was crying, the house went completely black. I hoped that we would be immune to the rolling blackouts to generate power in northern Japan because we live near Yokota AB. Obviously, this wasn’t the case. My kids were eating dinner, and they just looked at me when it happened. That’s when I decided it was time to be strong again. I told the kids that everything was going to be alright. I turned on some light; after the kids finished their dinner, we started playing in the dark. They were completely fine and were having fun in the new scenery. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure anymore. As our house quickly grew colder and I realized that we had an electric water heater, I couldn’t stop thinking about the earthquake and tsunami victims. We only had to go through two hours of no heat and hot water, but they were going through their fifth day of trying to survive and look for lost loved ones.

Then I started feeling guilty instead of blessed. I felt guilty that nothing terrible happened to my family during the Northridge and Tohoku Earthquakes. That feeling was then quickly overcome with worrisome that something worst could happen if we stayed—a stronger earthquake, a tsunami, more nuclear plant explosions, or a volcanic eruption.

There were two things that kept me optimistic at the time: 1) My husband was returning from his mission to help with the relief efforts; and 2) The kids and I were leaving the next day for our planned trip to Singapore. Although we weren’t going to see him for another week because we were on a plane as he was on a shuttle back to base, the trip to Singapore was perfect timing. I needed a break from feeling aftershocks and being within proximity to the everyday events.

When we arrived in Singapore, I learned about the voluntary evacuation for US citizens. As I heard about friends fleeing the country and asked by family & friends when we were going to the States, my friend (along with her two boys that accompanied us on the trip) and I contemplated about it everyday.

We returned to Japan this past Thursday, and a voluntary authorized departure (VAD) flight from Yokota AB left the next evening. We decided to not board it. As the days went by, I learned that there is no radiation in the air where we live and the tap water comes from wells and streams of the mountains not Tokyo. (They’re constantly checking on both levels everyday.) I haven’t felt an earthquake/aftershock since returning home; and, best of all, we’re reunited as a family. (Side Note: My husband was part of the first C-130H aircrew to land at Sendai Airport since the earthquake and tsunami. They provided relief supplies for the victims in northern Japan.)

Right now, I feel like I’m on this roller coaster of emotions that’s dependent on the current situation of the country. The last week has been better than the first; and I continue to pray that it’ll keep getting better.

Submitted by: Maricel Johns, Tokyo

For now, see Our Man in Abiko for updates, until we get started here.

I’ve been warned since I came to Japan two and a half years ago that, any day now, the ‘big one’ would be coming. In North Carolina, where I’d lived since I was born, we have no earthquakes. The idea of the earth moving underneath me was not really something I could comprehend. But after the first two or three small quakes here, the events became commonplace, or at most a game. I’d hop online after each one, checking to see if my friends in Tokyo felt the same quake, or doing a larger search to find other English-speakers in the country.

Even last Wednesday, when we were hit with a large quake, things were normal. Power never goes out in Japan, while it seemed that after every big storm in North Carolina we’d lose power for hours at the least. With no larger consequences, the earthquake was just a conversation topic for my English classes. Each student told stories about the earthquakes they’d been in over the years. None spoke of fear, and none spoke about food shortages. Maybe they’d have no gas for a day or two, but no one considered earthquakes too much to worry about.

As I got home from my classes on Friday the eleventh, I settled in for a quiet afternoon playing on the computer before the gyu-don dinner I planned to make for my roommate and myself once she got home from school. The quake from two days earlier was almost forgotten, and life, as it had never deviated from normal, was still trucking on as it had since I flew halfway around to world.

But there was something disturbing in the first tremors in the afternoon. I believe I was sitting on my couch, but all I can really remember is that I immediately knew something was different. The entire apartment seemed to jump and slide. I had trouble moving, but as quickly as I could I darted under the flimsy kitchen table and hoped it would end quickly, even as I knew it wouldn’t.

The shaking got worse, and I grabbed a leg of the table to keep it in place, half-remembering that that’s what I was supposed to do and half just trying to stay safe. My heart was pounding, and it was as I could see all the furniture in the kitchen moving and the entire building rumbling around me that I think I grasped that not only was this the biggest earthquake I’d ever felt, but that I was really and honestly and for the first time scared.

And I knew that any second the metal rack on top of which was precariously perched my ancient microwave would fall, scattering debris around my kitchen. I stayed rooted to my hiding place, knowing that if the quake were strong enough, my apartment building could collapse, but also knowing that if I wasnt under the table when the rack fell that I could be knocked unconscious. The last thing I needed was to be unconscious, so I stayed in my hiding place as the shaking continued to grow more violent.

I thought about a lot of things: about my roommate, who was on the other side of the city. About my parents, on the other side of the world. About my life, which was about to be thrown into utter turmoil, the extent of which I couldn’t tell, and wouldn’t have any idea until the infernal shaking would finally stop. This was when the rack fell, and whatever was on it hit the floor and slid towards me, the microwave hitting somewhere with a large crash.

This then focused my mind on the apartment building, which was getting old, and my roommate’s fears that it would collapse under the stress of an earthquake. I knew that if I wanted to get out, I could either go now, when there was little risk of being hit by debris, which was mostly already on the floor, or wait until the shaking stopped, and risk the building falling on me. I decided in a moment that I had to go.

The next hour is a complete blur. I remember a neighbor approaching me and asking me if I’d seen his cat. I remember running back inside the apartment for my phone and trying to send out a few desperate messages to my parents and then to my roommate, first to assure them I was ok and then to make sure they were. I also remember trying to clean up the apartment as I hadn’t heard from my roommate and could only assume the worst: that her school had collapsed, or at the very least that the phone lines were damaged and I wouldn’t hear from her for hours.

The next several hours are no more solid in my memory either. I travelled downtown to try to find my roommate, encountering a freak blizzard and a swarm of people including two foreigners like me who told me that downtown ‘wasn’t safe,’ and they were going to the river. It was around this time that I learned there had been a tsunami, and I realized that people at the coast would be worse off than me. But my cell phone service was spotty at best, and my battery was dying, and no one seemed to know any more than I did about what was happening.

It was days before I stopped being scared. I heard my roommate, who returned home late that night and huddled with me for comfort and warmth. In the days that followed, I tried to make good decisions. The one thing I knew I wanted was not to be governed by fear. I didn’t want to run from my home because I was afraid of what had happened or worried about the future. I also didn’t want to stay because I was too scared to act. I still don’t know if everything or anything I’ve done has been right, but at least I don’t feel scared anymore. As I stand in a line for a grocery store, one week after the quake, along with hundreds of other people whose home is here, I feel a sense of community, and from that I am finding strength. Strength to keep going, no matter what, in the uncertain days that are ahead.

Submitted by: Gregory Harbin
Taihaku-ku, Sendai, Japan

Originally written on March 15, 2011 on our private family blog.

Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers during this difficult time. Fortunately for us, we were not affected like the cities north of us. Here is Friday, March 11th, as I remember it:

3:50 am: I drop Alex off at the squadron for his flight to an undisclosed location. He will be away for work until March 26th.

10:00am: Chris, Sean, the kids and I drive to Ome to visit Yoshino Baigo Plum Gardens. It’s their last day here during their one-week visit, and I really wanted them to see Japan’s beautiful plum blossoms. They’re not in full bloom yet, but I thought it would be one last beautiful sight for them to remember.

12:00 pm: Our time is too short at the Gardens–filled with finding the place, getting lost-in-translation with parking lot attendants, and walking there. After getting to the highest point of the grounds that we could reach and admiring the views, we departed for Yokota AB so that Chris and Sean can catch the shuttle to Narita Airport. (If we didn’t make it, I was going to drive them there–about a 2 1/2-3 hour drive from where we live.)

12:50 pm: We say goodbye to the guys. It’s been a great week hanging out together–showing some of our favorite places in Tokyo and exploring Hiroshima and Miyajima together.

12:55 pm: The kids fell asleep in the car, so I grab Burger King for lunch (it’s the only drive-thru restaurant on-base).

1:10 pm: We’re home, and I put the kids in their beds. They were sharing a room this week since Chris & Sean were staying in Tristan’s room.

2:00 pm: After cleaning up a bit, I finally decide to take a nap. Our week was so fun, but I was exhausted and needed sleep.

2:46 pm: Earthquake. I’m awake. I looked around the room and waited for it to be over, but it felt like it was never going to end. The house was shaking, but nothing fell down. While it was 8.9 at the epicenter, it was only a 5.0 magnitude where we live in Hamura, next to Yokota AB.

Later, I found out that Sean and Chris felt the earthquake, too–on a bridge. The bus driver STOPPED, yes, STOPPED on the bridge TWICE. (You can be rest assured that the bus driver was trying to be safe by telling them to put on their seatbelts. Seriously, apparently it’s a rule for bus drivers to stop during an earthquake. There should be an exception, though, when driving on a bridge. Hasn’t anyone ever heard about the San Francisco or Northridge earthquakes?)

3:00 – 4:00 pm: Aftershocks after aftershocks. The boys finally wake up during one of the aftershocks. (I didn’t see a need to wake them up because the quakes weren’t that strong. Only a few trinkets were knocked down, but nothing fell off the shelves or walls.) Being from California, I’m used to earthquakes–I slept through earthquakes–but now I was getting a little worried with the frequency of the quakes. Tristan says, “It’s shaking, Mom. It’s shaking!”

4:15 pm: We drive to Yokota AB. I needed to go grocery shopping because the kids were out of diapers. We went to the commissary, and there were so many filled carts left in the store. There were only a few people shopping, and the workers were restocking fallen items. I took this time to stock up on items we needed.

I saw a herd of people watching the news, but I figured they were just talking about the earthquake. It wasn’t until we returned home, and I turned on the news that I saw the tragic events that were occurring north of us.

6:30 pm: Sean’s and Chris’s flight was scheduled to depart from Narita Airport.

7:00 pm: I see on the news that Narita Airport is shutdown.

7:15 pm: I finally hear from Sean and Chris. Luckily, they rode the bus with Shawn, one of our friends in Alex’s squadron, and they’re able to call me. Not only is the airport shutdown, but all of the nearby hotels are closed, and the transportation systems are inoperable. They were given sleeping bags and spent the night at the airport.

I felt terrible about their situation–mostly because I felt helpless. Should I pick them up? What if there’s another earthquake, and I’m driving on the road? What if I’m stuck in traffic while an earthquake occurs? With the kids in the car? On a bridge? In a tunnel? I decided that we were all safest staying where we were at the moment. Luckily, they only had to endure one night at the airport. Operations started back up on Saturday, and they were able to fly home.

Alex is safe; and he still won’t be home until the 26th. I wish I gave him a bigger kiss when he left.

As for us, we are fine. Even with the aftershocks that are still occurring (sometimes I feel them, sometimes I don’t), I feel safe here at home. I am prepared for what may occur; and I have the utmost faith in the military. Yokota AB has been continually been part of the relief efforts, and I am constantly being updated with information about what’s going on. By the way, they are continually monitoring the radiation levels, and there is currently no trace of radiation where we live.

UPDATE 3/16: Alex is coming home this Thursday to help with the relief efforts! Unfortunately, we might miss him because we’re attempting to hop to Singapore (pre-planned trip).

Submitted by: Maricel Johns, Tokyo