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Poet Ryoichi Wago tries to bridge hearts after Fukushima

“For example, Wago says the argument that Japan must rely on nuclear power to some extent may sound rational, but if one spares a thought for the misery of people directly affected by the nuclear disaster then surely championing nuclear power generation does not offer a viable future.

Despite the lack of common ground and the prospect of never resolving such differences, Wago concluded that starting conversations to talk about issues related to the disaster would be a fundamental first step in the right direction.”

FUKUSHIMA–Ryoichi Wago, a high school teacher who doubles as a poet, rose to national prominence with a series of tweets he posted days after the March 11, 2011, nuclear disaster in his native Fukushima Prefecture.

On March 16 of that year, he tweeted the following short free verse about the drama unfolding at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant:

“Radiation is falling.

“It is a quiet night.”

Plunged into despair by the nuclear accident, Wago began groping for ways to get a dialogue going involving all sectors of society to bridge differences brought on by the catastrophe.

At the time of the disaster, Wago, now 47, was at his home in Fukushima city, which is situated inland and northwest of the crippled nuclear power plant. It has been estimated that radioactivity levels there were as much as 500 times higher than before the accident.

Like many other local residents, his wife and son left town and took refuge in Yamagata Prefecture, north of Fukushima. But he stayed on, even though the neighborhood felt like a ghost town. A radio station kept blaring, “Keep calm and evacuate.”

“Will I be forced to leave?” Wago feared. “Fukushima will be abandoned by the nation.”

Two months later, he published “Shi no tsubute,” or “Pebbles of poetry,” a compilation of free verse he had tweeted expressing his fears and anguish. Prior to the disaster, he had only four followers. The number quickly rose to 15,000 by the time the book was released.

Clearly, his words and thoughts were reaching a wider audience. But not everyone was in his corner.

One day a message sent through Twitter gave him pause for thought: “You live inland so you are not a disaster victim. You have not lost your hometown nor your family,” the message read, questioning his legitimacy to talk about the disaster as “one of them.”

By April, gas pumps were working again and Wago was able to visit other parts of Fukushima Prefecture to listen to what people were saying. He spent a year doing this, mostly at weekends, and talked to 60 or so people.

During these chats, he noticed a wide disparity in the way people viewed the disaster.

“I want the government to promise to return us to our hometown,” one individual would venture. “I cannot go back, I will make a new life somewhere else,” another would say.

A mother’s wish that her children would ”be able to play outside” invites a stinging rebuke: “Are you trying to make them sick from radiation exposure?”

It occurred to Wago that such disparities must be felt everywhere in Japan after the 3/11 disaster.

For example, Wago says the argument that Japan must rely on nuclear power to some extent may sound rational, but if one spares a thought for the misery of people directly affected by the nuclear disaster then surely championing nuclear power generation does not offer a viable future.

Despite the lack of common ground and the prospect of never resolving such differences, Wago concluded that starting conversations to talk about issues related to the disaster would be a fundamental first step in the right direction.

That was Wago’s starting point for creating Fukushima Mirai (future) Kagura. Kagura is dance and music performed at festivals and rituals as offerings to Shinto deities.

Wago gathered 50 or so locals as production staff and dancers, and held a talk session to get them to state what they wanted to get out of the project.

“I want to tell how much my tsunami-drowned friends would have wanted to live,” said one. “I want to express my anguish that my hometown was contaminated by radiation,” said another.

Wago recalls “some kind of intangible solidarity” was born among the participants.

In August 2015, the presentation of kagura at Fukushima Inarijinja shrine in Fukushima city received an ovation from the 700 or so spectators gathered for the performance.

His kagura is made up of several parts, including poetry reading accompanied by live calligraphy and a drum performance, and dance performance representing foxes and a dragon.

“A willingness to have conversation rather than confrontation is important. It is not necessarily in words either,” said Wago.

In March 2016, Wago published a new poetry book titled “Kinou yorimo yasashiku naritai” (I want to be kinder than yesterday).

One of those poems goes to the heart of what Wago is trying to express.

“From that day, I am having fruitless discussion with him.

“He tells me he cannot understand a single thing I say.

“I also respond flatly that I cannot understand him.

“Still, we have no way but to keep up our dialogue.”

http://www.asahi.com/ajw/articles/AJ201605170009.html

May 17, 2016 Posted by dunrenard | Fukushima 2016 | Disaster, Fukushima continuing, Fukushima Daiichi, nuclear | Leave a comment