“I am ready,” Ohtsu said. “I am ready to share the burden.”
Like tens of thousands in the northeastern towns and cities devastated by Japan’s March 11 earthquake and tsunami, Ohtsu is recalibrating his life, trying to reconcile the work that must be done and the time needed to do it. Japan’s far-flung populations were aging and shrinking well before this catastrophe, and in Ishinomaki, one in every three people is 60 or older. Here, as in many places, the ability to rebuild will depend on aging lifelong residents who must choose whether to stay and adapt to discomfort or pursue easier existences elsewhere.
Ohtsu sometimes shakes his head, thinking about how close escape is. Just 30 minutes west, there is no mud, no debris, no suffering. He’s one $4 toll road away from mountains where he loves to ski. Even now, when he drives to these places, he listens to the Beatles and sings out loud. Then he turns back toward Ishinomaki, on an industrial road where the tsunami dumped a world of trash. Minivans are kebabed on telephone polls. Dented freight cars sit on sidewalks. Trees are crusted in mud and newspapers.
“Sometimes it’s very difficult, and even painful, to switch my frame of mind — from this peace to focusing on this,” Ohtsu said, and he turned off the music.
He looked to his left, where a flattened school bus painted with Pokemon characters jutted from the remains of a kindergarten.
“My God,” Ohtsu said.
One of the lucky ones
In a sense, Ohtsu is one of the luckiest people in an unlucky place. He lives atop a hill in a city where everything below the hill became rubble, with 28,000 homes destroyed and more than 5,000 people killed or missing. When a Washington Post reporter visited Ishinomaki last week, Ohtsu served as an unpaid interpreter and local guide. During several days together, Ohtsu explained that he had lost his routine but not his possessions — and he said he feels guilty he lost only this much.
Before the disaster, he would map out his days on a white board in his study. One hour for tai chi. Four hours for studying French, ahead of his March 29 trip to Paris. A few hours for writing his latest book on Japanese linguistics. Bed at 11 p.m. Awake again at 4:30.
Then, at 2:46 p.m. on March 11, a 9.0-magnitude earthquake struck offshore. Ohtsu dived under his kitchen table, clutching his 89-year-old mother. When he emerged, the old priorities were no longer priorities.
He and his mother went the first week without electricity. He checked on his neighbors, found those with damaged homes, and soon 10 people — including three teenage girls — were sleeping on tatami mats in Ohtsu’s small house. He no longer worked on his book. He canceled his trip to France. He stopped exercising. He volunteered at a downtown shelter, passing out food.
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