Last Friday when my husband called down to me from his upstairs office that Japan was hit with a severe earthquake and tsunami, my chest constricted with panic. Where? Where in Japan? I wanted to know.
My first worry was that it hit the place I lived and worked for a year as an assistant English teacher on the Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme (JET). Were the homes where my students lived being destroyed?
Most of all, was the dear friend whom I considered a second mother and whom I still keep in touch with okay? Was her home okay? Is the apartment building that I lived in being engulfed in water? I was not all that far from the coast.
My fears were abated when I learned that the tsunami was nowhere near where I lived. I lived in the south of Japan, on Shikoku Island. Relief washed over me. But then that felt a little selfish of me because it was affecting thousands, and I do not wish this kind of devastation on anybody.
I turned on my computer and watched homes being washed away. I saw cars speeding away in front of the wave, and because I was so far away, in the safety of my own home, it was hard to imagine the fear and turmoil that must be going through those driver’s heads.
I kept watching the new photos that pop up on the web and some video too. I learned that the earthquake shifted the Japan coast by 8 feet and shifted the Earth’s axis by nearly 4 inches. The Earth is an amazing and scary place.
What if it had hit the place I had once lived? I would be beside myself thinking about my young students who used to hand me notes and giggle about the movie stars they loved best. They would be in their early twenties by now.
I would remember the beautiful valley of rice fields that I used to walk to in the evenings. I met my Australian friend there, and we’d walk until our limbs were too tired to go any farther. Some nights we would watch a moon rise above some Japanese arch. It was like walking in a postcard.
I would remember my supervisors who took me to karaoke, and my friend Mari who came over each Monday evening for English lessons, and she taught me about the customs of Japan. She showed me her drawings and told me she wanted to travel like I did and become an artist.
I would remember Sachi who took me under her wing and helped me on several occasions, including once when I was extremely ill and needed to go to the doctor. She and I also took walks together, and she even took me on a weekend trip to Kyoto to show me around that beautiful city.
Her house was very close to my apartment, and I’m sure if that tsunami hit that island, the whole area would be obliterated. The parking lot and grocery store that my apartment building looked over would have surely been devastated.
I’m extremely grateful that it’s not, yet I know there are people and places just like these who were affected. There were students, kind people and beautiful places destroyed. It gives me a heavy heart, and my prayers this week are for Japan.
Shelli Bond Pabis is a Winder resident and columnist for the Barrow Journal. You can reach her at writetospabis@gmail.com.
