I made it home just in time to be part of the 99% to occupy Wall Street. Having been back in the San Francisco bay area for a few days now, I’m finding that remembering to look left first when stepping out into on-coming traffic can be a challenge. Disoriented, I’ve found myself standing on the southbound platform in the BART station trying to board a train to the east bay. I wish that this was the hardest thing about returning home. I’m not sure how to process, fold and integrate the enormity of the volunteer experience into my daily world as life around me continues to flow.
In terms of the bonds built between fellow volunteers, a month can compound itself, quickly accelerating into dog years.
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| At the All Hand's Sakari Base |
My last day on Project Tohoku was one of laughter and hope. I worked on a project to clear ditches with a small group of 6 volunteers. We were small in size, but we were incredibly efficient. By the time we reached our afternoon break, we had cleared close to an entire square block. It was unspoken, but we had developed a system. All of us took turns using the crowbar to lift and remove large cement squares to enable the other 5 team members to shovel out debris. Then we all took turns shoveling sludge into fat white bags and hauling the debris to a designated location with a wheelbarrow. During our 2:30 break, we all sat along a guard rail underneath a dense grey sky overlooking the shallow river bed that ran to the sea. It had been raining off and on all morning and as the sky seemed to dry, we all began to comment on how inviting the river looked. All of a sudden, Katsuhiro climbed the rail and scaled down the ladder into the river. Next Angel went in. I was thinking how unfortunate it was that I didn’t have rain boots. Before I could finish the thought, I too was scaling down the ladder and balancing my weight on the rocks to join my team in the river. Lisa, Phil and Alice, our team leader, soon joined in as well. We were all absorbed in the moment, forgetting about time and walking through the shallow river water. I ran my fingers through the cool waters and rinsed the sweat from my face and neck. Then something brilliant happened. Simultaneously in a catharsis, we all began to pick debris out of the water; large pieces of cement, wood and glass, broken tile and broken plates. The river water bubbled over the rocks carrying with it the whispers of life moving. Rays of sun began to shine through the clouds in pale brass coloured patterns like filagree and in the ebb and flow of the bubbly whispers, there was hope.
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| It's Sotsuke! |
That evening, several volunteers had planned a soccer match with Sotsuke, a child at the Fukushima Sato Center who seems to possess an endless supply of energy and an electric smile. Barefoot, I played on his team with everything I had. I bruised my ankles and shins with the ball, but it didn’t matter. There was joy, laughter and light and at that moment I understood from the blood muscle of my heart what a powerful vehicle hope is. With hope, there will be healing. With hope northern Japan will rejuvenate and rebuild. With hope, life will continue flowing forward in all its strength like the river. I am deeply humbled by the opportunity to take part in the rebuilding effort and I will never forget the people of Ofunato and Rikuzentakata.
