Saturday, March 7, 2015

The hamster and the gecko – a survivors story

Preface

I was watching NHK news a few days after the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. The coverage of the tragic and unfolding events in Japan was unprecedented – there had never been so much technology available to record a natural disaster of this magnitude. The raw footage was shocking and the 24-hour media coverage of the aftermath was mesmerizing. Like so many, I was glued to the television – I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.
An older man was shown walking through the rubble of one of the devastated towns. The camera, of course, was following, waiting for that one shot or one quote that would make the evening news. He walked in a steady fashion; strong Japanese legs carried him through the mud and over the remnants of his neighborhood. We learned that he was a volunteer firefighter who had left his family at home when the tsunami warnings came over the sirens. It was his job to secure the first line of defense near the harbor.
He stopped suddenly and turned towards a house that had been flipped on its side and dumped near a gray stone wall. The reporter shoved a microphone in his face and asked him a question off-camera. Tears welled up in his eyes and his face wrinkled with emotion. With a cracked voice he said, “There is nothing to say.”
The moment hit me so hard. I was stunned and shocked all over again by the enormity of the tragedy. I could feel this man's despair through his silence.
I thought, “Yes, there is nothing that can be said in such a situation,” but somehow, all of us who were not there have to say something. Each one of us has to decide what we can say and how loud and far that voice can go. We have to speak for those who cannot.
The following short story is my message of hope – the words are my voice.

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