BY ALMA REYES
MARCH 11 IN THE MIRROR
Every year in March I greet the spring blossoms of Japan in no different way from the previous year, perhaps, just like everyone else in Japan. Stores and supermarkets start to glitter with pink decors on food packages; some hang stalks of artificial sakura above the shelves. Anxious toddlers in that orthodox dark blue suit attire, accompanied by their likewise darksuited parents walk down the streets to the kindergartens for their graduation ceremony. Museums, parks and riverbanks start to fill up with students who are either on excursion trips, or having just finished school, are eager to enjoy the first weeks of their spring break. The city is bright, cheery, and hopeful Then, television programs and news run the usual recap of the March 11, 2011 Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami disaster, paying once again, respect to the thousands of lost beloved ones and hideously devastated towns. Do Japanese ever still think about how unimaginably different Japan was during that month of March in 2011 when cities everywhere (especially in the Kanto and Tohoku regions) were almost completely black: train stations dark and dull with some
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turnstiles not deliberately operating; exaggeratedly overlit electronic stores suddenly reduced to dim lighting and blasting music gone; food shortages continuing week by week with people lining up outside groceries from early morning to stock up food; sudden abundant supply of mineral water everywhere; every single person wearing a mask; and minute-by-minute aftershock alarms and nothing else to watch on television except for the earthquake effects and radiation updates? I have recorded a “live feedback” of such an experience on March 20, 2011:
TOKYO: THE DARK CITY
Living in Tokyo these days, ten days since the BIG quake, is no longer like living in the energized city of East Asia. Gas stations are closed—no gasoline; some bank ATM machines are not operating; supermarkets, office buildings, department stores, electronic stores, pharmacies, train stations have turned dark and gloomy due to power conservation—less ceiling lights on, lower-powered heaters (despite the current 12 C climate)...not to mention, less commodities in shelves that go empty from day to night, each single day. Some descending escalators no longer run (only ascend-
MARCH - APRIL 2019
ing escalators) so that people can use the stairs instead when going down; 5 out of 10 turnstiles in train stations are blocked to save power; some TV screens inside trains are black; less elevators in buildings are running to save power. Some of those big flashing screens on the buildings in Shibuya have been turned off. Akihabara has become quieter now with less pumping music and flashing neon lights. In supermarkets, maybe 4 out of 6 aisles are lit; the rest of the aisles have the ceiling lights turned off. Our neighbors have turned off their porch lights, which we normally keep on overnight for security reasons. I arrived at the supermarket 10 minutes before it opened and there was already a long line outside stretching about 10 meters from the entrance. It is NOT TRUE that Japanese are non-panic people and non-pushing people. As soon as the doors opened, people swarmed in like ants, picking up the grocery baskets and bumping each other; some running like crazy. The rice shelves were definitely empty. Cooked food was disappearing fast and people were just pushing around and looked like they were about to die in a minute. I have never seen this homey supermarket so packed with ants and lines in caterpillar lengthspeople hoarding toilet paper, tissue and whatnot;
