despite the horror hidden beneath the mud and waves, peopleall over Japan northeast coast found such as miracles
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The Sydney Morning Herald
Environment
This was published 9 years ago
Small miracles amid the carnage
Despite a rapidly rising death toll and worsening nuclear emergencies, Japan's stoic population have been delighted by a precious few survival stories. John Garnaut reports.
March 15, 2011 — 12.00am
INSIDE the unlit lobby of the Shin Tomi Tei Hotel, on a safe hill above the once beautiful cove of Matsushima, holidaymakers huddle around, waiting for the latest news.
''There are no trains and no mobile reception because there is no electricity,'' an emergency worker tells the crowd. ''And we just don't know how long it will be until they can turn it on again.''
A little ball of hope ... a four-month-old baby girl is carried to safety in Ishimaki by the Japanese Self Defence Force.
A little ball of hope ... a four-month-old baby girl is carried to safety in Ishimaki by the Japanese Self Defence Force. AP
The stranded hotel guests, consisting mainly of the elderly, nod their heads respectfully, ask important questions and receive detailed and respectful answers.
Everywhere, Japan's stoic resilience and its tightly woven community fabric are on display.
Shimizu Yasuhiro carries his baby, Lucky.Outside the hotel a line of people wait patiently, as perhaps only Japanese people can.
''We heard there was water here,'' says Makota Seki, holding a bag of empty water bottles with his daughter.
It seems every business that has fresh water is sharing it.
Shopkeepers who have no electricity are selling or giving away supplies on stands outside their front doors.
Toll
Toll
Around the corner a man hooks up a small diesel generator to a series of adaptors and hangs a sign ''Charge your phone here''.A small van with a man and a loudspeaker supplies drinking water to those most in need.
Matsushima's limestone island and cove has left the community relatively protected.
Most people got away with a crumpled car or boat and a lounge room full of mud.
''We in Matsushima have been lucky,'' an emergency worker tells hotel guests. ''Further north they are doing it very hard.''
Heading into this region, a sign advertising the town of Nobiru shows a beach packed with sunbathers - but today the river next to it is littered with crumpled houses.
Further along, four men from the Japanese Self Defence Forces resume combing the reeds on each side of the river and poke into the mud with long poles after pulling out a bloated body.
Overhead, hawks keep a watchful eye and helicopters shuttle back and forth.
But even in Nobiru, which is mostly destroyed, people are doing what they need to get by.
Shimizu Yasuhiro, 26, emerges dripping from his flooded street carrying a parcel wrapped in blankets. ''My baby is 10 days old and we called him Lucky,'' he said referring to the boy born six days before the tsunami obliterated most of his town. ''And he is lucky, to be alive.''
Beside him is the beaming mother, carrying their two Pekingese dogs.
At the main hospital at Ishinomaki helicopters shuttle in the wounded.
At first glance the scene is reassuring. The hospital is well staffed with medicos and volunteers from all over the country.
While the corridors are full and patients are lined up outside, those with critical injuries are being fully catered for.
But then the hospital director, Kazuie Ilnuma, explains: ''The tsunami either left people with very light injuries and some trauma, or they drowned.''
Despite the horror hidden beneath the mud and waves, people all over Japan's north-east coast are finding minor miracles.
The industrial lands around Sendai port have been obliterated and a blazing fire from an oil storage tank lights up the sky.
Trucks have been crushed and pile up on each other like aluminium cans, factories have been flattened and their contents spill all over the surrounding lands.
Outside one of those factories belonging to the famous beer company Kirin, residents work out how to solve their dehydration challenge.
Littered across the mud and debris, for as far as the eye can see, are thousands of kegs and what seems like a million cans of slightly shaken but perfectly chilled beer.
People who have been without water for days are fossicking and filling plastic bags with the next best thing.