Monday, April 11 The Swiss pitch in, and a vanished village

Removed food from van and loaded it and the little truck to the gills with the stuff we sorted yesterday. Footnote: they call the little truck the “K truck.” The explanation for this also explains all the tiny narrow cars and microvans. There are special specifications for models that do not exceed certain dimensions and engine displacements (and previously limited the top speed). These vehicles have yellow license plates and get reduced registration fees (and maybe other advantages too—I don’t know). These are called “K models.”

Then at the Samaritan’s purse warehouse we met up with a team from

Switzerland representing “Hope for Japan.” Wolfgang lives in Japan but Dominic and Tobi had come especially to document the destruction, collect stories on video from victims, and also record words of hope and encouragement from them to put online to share with the rest of the county. While I (suddenly promoted to instant “expert”) directed the Swiss team as we laid out, cut, and bagged fruit and vegetables, Paul and Beth pulled new supplies from the warehouse: boots for cleanup, gas fuel for he cookstoves, and plastic garbage bags.

We drove (3 vehicles now) to Ishinomaki, then out the Kitakami River to the village along the dike (this time the post office was open, so we had to ask permission), the Swiss guys helped set out the relief supplies, then asked the people in line if they could do some video. As we cleaned up a light drizzle began. I got to go into the post office and thank the mail clerks in Japanese. Then we headed back to the rest home.

Vignettes:
• Stopped about 1 kilometer short of the rest home at what had been a small farming community. Close to the ocean now. Our guide Chihiro, showed

where her friend’s home had been. Then said that that friend and her daughter had not only lost a house, they had lost their husband/father too. The Swiss crew took a lot of pictures, and had Chihiro tell her story. I took pictures of toys in piles of mud and wreckage, half-buried

farm tractors, and clothing snagged 30 feet high in the bamboo trees.
• Public safety crew making its way down the marshy bank, poking bamboo poles into the reeds checking for bodies

• Japanese road and utility crews installing new power poles and hauling truckloads of mud and debris to dumping sites
• Grandson of rest home supervisor talking proudly about his baseball team and then mentioning by the way they had no baseballs

• Walking through foundations of what had been houses, and seeing red chard poking up through the mud in what had been someone’s backyard garden

End of Paul’s last full day (his wife is staying in the south near my sister since she is pregnant) and he will be leaving Tues to join her. Two hours to drive 45 miles back to camp because of heavy traffic westbound from the coast. Mental images too potent for words.