After the horrific earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan in March, those affected are struggling to rebuild their lives. With many homeless and jobless, the future looks bleak for survivors in the Fukushima area, but they refuse to give up hope.
The number of dead and missing caused by the earthquake in the Fukushima prefecture is 1,844, compared to 11,604 in the Miyagi prefecture. However, there are approximately 100,000 evacuees in Fukushima, four times that of Miyagi. This is because there are more than 88,000 people who have been evacuated from the area within 30 km (18.6 miles) of the nuclear power station.
Depending on how nuclear power station accidents are controlled, it remains possible that the people who had left the 30 km (18.6 miles) circle may never return to the area again and will continue to live as refugees in their own country. They want to return to Fukushima, but cannot do so. How do they feel as they go on with their daily lives, moving from shelter to shelter?
"The shelter life has become unusual. The goal I am struggling towards is to return to my homeland," said Tadano Katsuro, 67.
"The girl volunteer said to me, 'Please hold out and carry on!' Although I feel encouraged, I also became angry at the thought of 'In what way should I carry on?' and couldn't help but cry."
Tadano lived in Tomioka town. After the earthquake, he came to Kooriyama City and lived his sheltered life in the convention center named Big Palette Fukushima. From the look in his eyes, it is easy to see his complete desolation. His living space is a two-mat wide floor in the hall covered with sheets and towels, which is closed off with a thin cloth. Tadano has almost gotten use to this kind of living.
The anti-disaster headquarters of Tomioka town is in a prefabricated house. Tadano decided that to stay close to the headquarters makes it easier to apply for temporary housing and compensation, and it is also easier to collect information. Therefore he lives here, alone and away from his family. His wife and his only son, a college student, are living in the city center. His daughters, who have married into other families, are living in Kansai.
Before the earthquake, the Tadanos had their own house in Yorunomori in the center of Tomioka town. Now an evacuated area, the community had been famous for its cherry blossoms. Tadano's grandfather was one of those who planted the cherry blossom trees that became the town's symbol. Working as a manager in an affiliate of Tokyo Electric Power Co. and running a boarding house, Tadano sent all of his children, four girls and a boy, to universities, a rare achievement in this part of the country.
The unprecedented earthquake suddenly changed Tadano's peaceful life. His boarding house was accommodating 15 workers from TEPCO's cooperating company, but when the earthquake happened, everyone was evacuated and the boarding house was closed. While the closure was regrettable, there are things that are far worse: When Tadano briefly returned to the house, someone had broken into the rooms of his boarding house and stolen all 15 TV sets.
"Why don't they block off the roads when giving the evacuation direction? There should be lots of ways to prevent theft," he said.
Tadano is full of disheartened thoughts. Now, more and more people are moving into temporary housing and the shelter space has become empty. Acquaintances left one by one. Tadano, who is also in charge of arranging the shelter's matters, is worried about the people who are left behind.
The housewife from Minamis?ma city sighed.
"How can we talk about reconstruction?" she asked. "We haven't even got a starting point to stand on yet."
She lives her evacuee life in a hot-spring hotel in Fukushima city. Right after the earthquake, she left her house, which is in an evacuated area, and went to seek refuge at S?ma Girl's High School, which was closed down. Her 12-member extended family -- including her two kids, her grandparents, parents and the family of her brother -- lived as evacuees for a while in the classrooms, with the floor covered by cardboard. After the major aftershock in April, the high school building could no longer be used as a shelter, because it did not have earthquake-resistant structures. So they moved to a second shelter in Fukushima city, which is 30 km (18.6 miles) away from Minamis?ma. The business where she was employed closed down.
Now her third-grade children have gotten used to their new school life. Under "out of region schooling," they can attend primary schools in Fukushima city without having to change their resident cards.
She has already found a two-generation house for lease in Fukushima city. However, because the electric appliances that the city and the Red Cross have given her are not ready, they cannot move in.
"First shelter, second shelter and now leased housing. I have to start again from less than zero every time I move. I thought I could organize my life style again after we move in the leased housing, but that is also difficult. The transitional method, that is, the life in the hot-spring hotel now, has a lot of restrictions and I can't take it anymore. The children also cannot keep calm."
Her face clouded up as she talked.
"It would be nice to go back to Minamis?ma city, but compared with everything else, I am most worried about the radiation. Also, the basics of our life, including the children's school, my job and the hospitals are all gone. The city might want its residents to come back, but it's impossible not to take these factors into account."
It is already the fourth month since the earthquake. The residents living in refuge are anxious and insecure because they cannot yet see the future. Their fatigue is beginning to reach its peak.
Nizuma Sachiko, 68, said she wants to "keep the flavor of Kawauchi, despite the mass migration that has taken place.
"It is really sad to hear people saying, 'I have to go seek shelter in some place far away,' or 'I have lost my job.'"
Nizuma is vice president of Kawauchi Chamber of Commerce and Industry and the director for specialties in the village's business union. She helped make Kawauchi village a "village of soba," due to its specialty, hand-made soba noodles. Nizuma herself has moved five times as an evacuee.
Among the villagers, the people from their 20s to their 40s have moved to temporary housing or leased housing, and started their lives in a new world. As for people over 50, they say that "since we are old already, taking in some radiation would not matter much. We want to go home right now."
But they still don't know when they can return to their villages.
"The villagers are devastated. They are also worried when they can go back home. I hope we can put an end to this status soon," Nizuma said.
"Perhaps the families with young people and children will never come back to the village. The village will not look like it used to." Still, Nizuma has her hopes.
"I would like to preserve the flavor of Kawauchi and the hand-made soba noodles, for the sake of those in and out of our village who said they like Kawauchi's clear-cut four seasons and rich natural attraction."
She is also thinking about opening shops in the future and making them gathering spots for the villagers scattered in all the shelter areas. She hopes that the shops become the place to tell more people about the culture and history of the village as well as the flavor she takes pride in.
"This is my first step towards reviving the village: to keep the light on for Kawauchi."