Saturday, March 10, 2012

"Shikata ga nai"

This was an editorial I wrote shortly after the 11 March 2011 earthquake. I thought it would be appropriate to post it on the one year anniversary of the event.
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Shikata ga nai,” is something that was said to me quite often growing up in a traditional Japanese home. It is a phrase for our philosophy; we say it in times of extreme devastation and we say it in day-to-day life.   Of the many translations, perhaps the most appropriate and often perfected is, “It cannot be helped.” During the short time I have been living in Japan as a guest in their country and a service member of the United States Air Force, I find myself saying shikata ga nai more than I would have expected.  I am extremely impressed by the ability of the Japanese people to maintain their composure, stay true to their polite traditions and exhibit nothing less courteous demeanor.  It is in fact so apparent, that it begs the question, why doesn’t the rest of the world display the same values?

Just a few days into the New Year, I arrived in Misawa Air Base with no expectations except for getting settled in as quickly as possible. With my eyes trained far ahead on the long road of adjusting to my new life, I was caught completely by surprise when my world was turned on end in a matter of just a few minutes.  In the days before the enormous earthquake on March 11, Japan experienced its introduction to the coming days’ havoc.  Preceded by an approximate 6.1M earthquake, the historic 9.0M quake left a mark on the people of Japan as well as my own psyche.  I was sitting in my office and will never forget the rumbling of my two computer monitors as they clashed against one another during the 7-minute long earthquake that shook the islands of Japan. My unit chief yelled from his office in a relatively calm voice, “Earthquake!”  We all sat tensely waiting to see when—or if—it would end.  After a minute passed, I ran to my door to check on my co-workers, exclaiming that it was so surreal.  The quake continued, and I started to feel sea sick as I tried to make my way outside.  Behind me I saw the building where I work and noticed the Japanese Air Self Defense Force’s (JASDF) weather observation tower swaying back and forth against the inconsistent waves of the quake. The moment the earthquake ceased was the beginning of seemingly endless aftershocks, one after another. Some of the “aftershocks” were as big as 6.0 at the epicenter; luckily the ripples weren’t as strong as the big quake.

After it ended, I rushed straight to my computer to look at the potential tsunami warnings. The Japan Meteorological Agency is the primary source of tsunami information and warnings throughout the country; and the outlook was not good.  The tsunami warning indicated tide heights quickly changed from 3-8 feet to an approximate height of 30 feet for the Aomori Prefecture.  Misawa Air Base was lucky to escape the tsunami.  While only three miles from the Pacific Coast, the elevation is just over 100 feet. As people from the Air Operations unit started communicating with us in the weather unit, we received word from the local Japanese news station, NHK, that the situation was grave.  Our neighboring city of Hachinohe was seeing effects of the tsunami.  Hachinohe, “Hach” for short, is only 20 miles from Misawa and witnessing the water inundate the community put into perspective that we could have been in the same situation.  Watching NHK news coverage with our JASDF counterparts, there really wasn’t any need for translation— the tsunami waves were starting to roll into the coastal cities and obliterate anything in its paths.  “This is only the beginning,” I thought to myself.  And it was.

Once we started to comprehend that cities were being flooded, people were missing, and that power grids were offline, the base was ordered to attain 100% accountability for personnel. With no cell phone capabilities and no landline communication, we had to physically drive to the homes of our Airmen.  This proved difficult because not only are there differences in laws and driving styles but drivers were left with little more than the moon and the stars to light their way.   Driving rules such as free-for-all 4-way stops added to the chaos of the situation.  The streets were pitch black save for a few brave souls on the road, my own headlights and the stars. Misawa is not a typical busy Japanese city but is usually illuminated brightly—bright enough to not fully appreciate the stars on a daily basis.  I will never forget that drive home.  When I arrived, I took a moment before entering to enjoy the peaceful stars, so blissfully unaware of the terror experienced down here on Earth. 
I did not know what to expect, except for a cold house and maybe a few broken belongings. When I took my boots off and planted my feet on the wooden floor, they immediately froze but I endured the cold while my one flashlight illuminated a path through my house.  It was about eight in the evening and I remember my digital weather station telling me that it was 43 degrees Fahrenheit in my house.  I wanted nothing more than to get warm.  After a quick peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a sleeping pill to guarantee some rest, I went to bed.  I was still awoken three times that night by aftershocks.

From day one of the crisis in Japan, Americans and Japanese have both understood the importance of a collective humanitarian mission.  The near-instantaneous shift from day-to-day operations to “Operation Tomodachi (Friends)” brought with it goals for ensuring continued health and welfare of all people affected by the quake.   Misawa Air Base quickly transformed into one of the primary staging areas for military personnel and supply airlift.  Misawa worked to route aircraft further south, about 230 miles away, to Sendai and Matsushima, the most significantly damaged areas.   With long hours, no days off, and continuous patience, we awaited and executed the orders of our military leadership.

No matter the stress level, we continually work toward a mission of safety and well-being for those affected by this disaster.  Even with long hours and minimal chance to recharge with off days, my Airmen and I understand what we are here to do.   Devastation may still be in the back of our minds but it really is time for Americans to adopt and internalize the meaning of “Shikata ga nai.”  Thanks to my parents, I now truly understand the strength of this phrase; who would have thought my wisdom would come so early in life and so soon in my military career.   



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