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| OMF Missionary John Elliot Standing in Front of Ofunato Baptist Church |
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| OMF Missionary Martin Ghent Working on the Interior of Ofunato Baptist Church |
The first order of business Tuesday was to get Martin’s truck to Ofunato, along with kitchen cabinets, relief supplies, and a 4x8 foot garden shed. It was quite a load, especially with cross-winds on the highway. Along the way, I visited a small shelter in Kamaishi and Ofunato City Office with Laurie, Renee Williams, and Jean-Marc and Solveig Giffen, talking to people there and dropping off supplies. Yes, it was too much for one day. Renee had really hoped to go to Ohtsuchi as well, but we ran out of time. I had to get the truck to Ofunato Baptist church, so they ended up dropping the remaining stuff at the Kamaishi Shinsei church.
Wednesday, we finally got power into part of the Ofunato church’s wiring. I was working with Armin Messer, while Martin Ghent ran around on a frustrating search for housing for teams along the coast. Tuesday, we had spent a cold, hard night on the floor of the church, so it was nice to move to the unflooded second floor of a nearby English school on Wednesday night. There was no power or toilet, but a dry floor, and nice beds made up for those minor inconveniences. Thursday, Armin and I labored on. We removed the last bits of drywall, a ceiling, and bolted the shed down. Martin brought the new doors late in the day, and headed home.
Armin and I settled down in our comfortable quarters for the second time, only to be awakened by the room bouncing up and down, then back and forth, in a 6+ aftershock; probably the most violent quake I have experienced in 30 years in Japan. We had gotten rather blasé about the frequent temblors, but this was too much! By the time the sirens started to wail, we were dressed and in our vehicles, ready for the dash to higher ground. Never mind the first tsunami hadn’t reached the place we were sleeping; we were clearing out. It seems everyone else felt the same, and it was a good thing we were near the head of the stampede. We all raced for highway 46; it was above the high water mark. Once there, I debated for split second- left to the City Office, on it’s high hill, or right to Highway 107 and a clear escape route to the mountains? The City Office would have information, but we might get stuck there for a long time. So, right it was.
Of course, the power went out all over town. It was scary, rushing through the dark streets, with pedestrians and cars darting here and there; no signal lights, and the sirens wailing while the public announcement system roared out a warning to get to higher ground. I recalled survivor’s stories of fleeing in stockinged feet , with the wave licking at their heels; of a black, writhing wall of destruction bearing down on them; of cars caught in traffic jams and being swept away.
By the time I felt like stopping, we were a mile or two up the road to Tono, far above the highest high water mark. Now what?
Armin tuned in the television on his cell phone. It didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. Who knew when it would be safe to return? And, would we want to sleep the rest of the night down there, anyway?
We gave it up, drove an hour up the mountain to Tono, and crashed at the CRASH volunteer center.
With morning light came the news that there had been no tsunami, and the all-clear had sounded an hour after the alarm. We returned to work on the church. It is easy to feel sheepish about our wild flight out of town, but that is the problem with hindsight; it is of no use until it is hindsight, and cannot help us when we need to make decisions. Let’s just call it “better safe than sorry,” and leave it at that. It did give me a certain insight into the reactions of the locals at the time of the tsunami, and the malaise they feel now.
Friday was uneventful; we started pulling out the old doorframes. There was no power, no cell phone connection, no materials to prepare for installing the doors. I decided to give it up and go home early. We were to have gone to Mizusawa (90 minutes inland) to pick up the long-awaited insulation from Hokkaido, but there was no way to get confirmation that it was in.
I went via Tono. While there, I was able to top off the gas tank. We were back to no power, no gas that day. Our helpful Tono Gas station guy pumped it by hand. Then I noticed I had cell phone service again. Martin confirmed the insulation delivery, but the only way to alert Armin to go and get it was to drive back to Tono myself. On the way, I was able to buy the materials needed for the doors in Sumida, half way to Ofunato. I arrived back at the church feeling much happier than when I left. After a bit more work on the doors, we left for Mizusawa, Armin in the truck, and me following in a car.
Iwate’s Coast Mountains are wild country. It was a bit of a relief to get out onto the level ground of the central plateau, as there were a number of places where the road was down to one lane because of earthquake damage. It is no comfort, as you pass, to see a the outer half of a mountain road sagging toward the valley below.
Our carefully planned route to the delivery depot in Mizusawa went to pieces when we reached a bridge closed because of earthquake damage. There was very little of this further north where I had been for the past 3 weeks; it was a clear indication that we were getting closer to the center of the event.
Our cargo- 3 pallets of fancy new wood fiber insulation- was too much for one load. We piled it on, roped it down, and I left Armin to get it back over the mountains alone (and to repeat the trip the next day). I headed north and home.
The power outage had affected the whole north-east, but power came back on in Aomori after one day. Here in central Iwate, they were still in the dark. All of us were learning to Braille our way through intersections without traffic lights. It was a bit unnerving.
The further north I got, the more lights I saw, until I drove into Hirosaki. It was all lit up like a Christmas tree; no gas lines, no closed stores. The feeling of unreality I have experienced time and again since March 11 hit me once more. I find myself adjusting to two realities fairly readily, now, but neither seems entirely normal.
Monday should see me back in “the zone”. We tore the Ofunato church building apart, and we need to get it back together. Hopefully, it will be a place from which volunteers can continue to work. Hopefully, it will be a witness to Christian caring and solidarity.
I don’t know- I am still learning. Lots.
