“Welcome to my house,” S turns to us with a wry smirk. “Please come in and make yourself at home!”
We chuckle at his joke very cautiously, ascending three concrete steps that lead up to a wooden floorboard.
That S has maintained his sense of humor is a great feat, I think, considering that those steps and that floorboard are all that remain of his home.
Rather than wallowing in the loss of all his possessions, however, S has started a non-profit organization, whose sole purpose is to visit shelter after shelter- where thousands of city residents are still living in cardboard partitioned “rooms” on gymnasium floors, and engage the children living there in fun, developmentally appropriate activities.
My husband and I are volunteering with his organization in Ishinomaki and Higashi Matsushima for the weekend, and this has kept us extremely busy so far. We are playing soccer, freeze tag and dodge ball, making arts and crafts, organizing an English conversation class, assisting in mochitsuki (a rice-pounding ritual), and even having an all out sports festival (undoukai) in a parking space that usually fits about four cars, in a part of town where all the parks have become makeshift wreckage dumps.
Through the course of the weekend, we make seven visits to different evacuation shelters. A very busy guy, S is constantly talking on his cell phone while driving, only to toss the device onto the floor of his vehicle whenever a patrol car passes- which happens quite often- without much explanation to whoever he is talking to. He then picks the phone up and calls the person back as if nothing happened. This is quite amusing for anyone in the car at the time.
If we had seen the wreckage of his house the evening prior, we would never have accepted his family`s invitation to eat dinner at S`s eldest sister`s house, where the entire extended family is taking refuge together. They consist of S`s other older sister- who also lost her house- her two elementary school aged children, their grandparents, and the eldest sister`s family themselves, which includes a 17-year-old boy, a senior in high school, who smokes Marlboro Reds like a chimney.
Using the eldest sister`s house as a base, the entire family is helping to run S`s non-profit organization. Even the eldest son, while he is not smoking, comes along to assist and even lead volunteer groups at the shelters. He has become very popular among the children despite his somewhat intimidating punk-rock style, complete with dyed-red hair and multiple earrings.
At dinner, we try to teach them English conversation in an effort to repay them for their great hospitality. The family has a quirky, light-hearted sense of humor. For example, at dinner S asks me if, in America, other people get angry when somebody farts. When the family drops us off at the tent city that has enveloped Senshu university, where most volunteers are staying, he parks the family car in the spot marked “school principal,” and everybody laughs.
“It is the spot for the most distinguished of teachers.” Somebody says, giggling. Through my own laughter, I know that there is no parking space more fitting for this family’s car.
(S, at his "house")
(S`s niece and nephew's former elementary school)
(SDF troop outside the school.)
(Mochitsuki)
(Playground)
(Crafts!)
NOT relevant to the post, but that's some sweet, golden curls you have there!
Posted by: Biggie | June 07, 2011 at 12:52 PM
haha, thanks...
Posted by: Lea | June 07, 2011 at 01:24 PM