My impressions of Fukushima in 2009

Fukushima’s rice fields are the closest thing to magic I have ever experienced, the mellow harmony of the fields, the symmetry of the rice growing between the water channels, the subdued colors, the gentle mist slowly rising from the ground.  I was there on a beautiful morning; no sun, it was downcast, with the mist rising above the trees; still the temperature was so mellow.  As I breathed in the delicate moist and warm air filled my lungs, I was in peace surrounded by the large expanse of green fields and the soft small peaks covered in trees and bamboo that grew in the distance. The sounds of crickets and the tiny frogs were filling the moist morning air. 

I went out in search of Yomogi with aunt Hatsue, her husband Yukio and uncle Nobuo.  The Yomogi grows around the rice fields, it mixes in with the weeds, of which there are many different kinds, still they are gentle to the feet and hands, not spiky or hard, sometimes I would remove my shoes and walk barefoot; the ground was moist with the mist,  dripping from the leaves of the plants. 

I could imagine my father’s last days on that blessed land, how his heart might have ached to leave behind that piece of paradise, the only place he had known for the 22 years of his life.  He was also leaving behind his community, the mother he just so adored and the little sister Fumiko whom he bought a book every month with his meager post war salary and to whom he read every night fall facing the mountains.  He was leaving for an unknown future, an unknown destiny, foreign and strange lands.  You see, he was the second son.  Not the first who would inherit the family ancestral lands with the duty of looking after his beloved father and mother.  He was one of the spare sons and in a land with dwindling natural resources it only made sense that the other sons besides the first would have to go out in the world and try to find their own fortunes. 

Was his heart open with anticipation for the adventures that were waiting for him?  Or was he grieving his loss and fate, afraid of what would lie ahead and still proud and stubborn to show how much he was afraid of everything.  Was he resentful towards his oldest brother who would end up tied to that sweet land forever?  I know that he wanted to study past high school; however he was not admitted to the University that he applied to.  All the times he talked about his leaving Fukushima during my childhood he sounded resigned, after all it was his duty and he was obeying his elders and that always seemed to be all that mattered. 

Like many generations of second sons before him, my father was groomed from early childhood for his role in the family life.  He was told of the family traditions and that he should obey out of love for his emperor, his country and his parents.  He knew he would have to leave.  Unlike the previous generation of spare sons before him who served in the heroic 2^nd world war of which Japan is famous for its kamikaze pilots and many other acts of selfless heroism by the army, my father’s generation faced the post war recession, the lack of food and the government programs paying for one way ship tickets overseas.   

Isao took a ship to Brazil.

The lands in Brazil were so different from the tame landscape in Fukushima.  Instead of the plain and muddy rice fields with the straight canals there was an arid openness and vastness with hardy trees and shrubs with all kinds of spikes and thorns, the water scarce, the stones in the earth so abundant.  The air was eternally dry, never the benevolent mist. I can understand now his frustration in dealing with the soil in that foreign and strange land. 

Tiyo and Yuzo, my paternal grandparents started their own house, this means that both their parents had already died and that they had to start from scratch, and in the feudal traditions of pre-war Japan in the framer’s class to which they belonged that meant toiling the land without the comfort of the help from the parents, machines or even a horse. 

During the Meiji period (1868-1912), when the first modernization took place, the Japanese society experienced profound stratification changes, expressed in the transition from feudal clans to a modern class system