Marika Yoshida: To live in Fukushima
11. februar 2012
Nedenstående tekst er skrevet af Marika Yoshida, som bor i Fukushima-området, på 10-månedersdagen for det jordskælv, som 11. marts 2011 udløste en gigantisk tsunami, som ud over store ødelæggelser langs Tohukus kyster satte en stribe atomreaktorer ud af kraft i det, som efterhånden står som verdens mest omfattende A-kraft-ulykke. Marika-sans tekst giver et meget præcist indblik i livet i Fukushima-værkets skygge, og jeg har tilladt mig at hente den ind fra bloggen Senrinomichi.
Ud over jordskælv og reaktor-nedsmeltninger er området denne vinter ramt af særligt store snefald. Sine steder fik det nordlige Japan midt i januar 2 meter sne blot fra et enkelt uvejr. Og oven i alle de andre bekymringer kommer således, at en del af den radioaktivitet, som nu ligger spredt i bjergene, samles med smeltevandet og øger problemerne for vandmiljøet.
Her 11 måneder efter er situationen omkring Fukushima-reaktorerne er stadig yderst labil. Nok blev de i december erklæret i en tilstand af permanent “cold shutdown”, og temperaturen i reaktorerne har siden holdt sig under 100ºC. Men man ved ikke, hvor meget af brændslet, som er tilbage, og hvor meget, som er nedsmeltet, og stadig må man løbende gribe ind med ændringer i kølingen. Det nærmeste en tidsplan for oprydningen efter de tre nedsmeltede reaktorer er, at selve brændslet kan være fjernet på 10 år, mens der vil gå op imod 40 år, før hele anlægget er fjernet.
A-kraftulykken har sat sig dybt i den japanske psyke, og efter Fukushima-ulykken har ingen indtil nu været villige til at genstarte reaktorer, efter at de blev standset for løbende sikkerhedstilsyn. Så en tid, hvor energibehovet for at holde kulden fra døren er højt, er kun 2 af Japans 54 kommercielle reaktorer i dag i drift. Disse tre står til at skulle til eftersyn sidst i april, og Japan kan da meget vel stå i den situation, at alle 54 reaktorer er standset.
Men tilbage til Marika-sans tekst – lad hendes ord trænge ind.
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I wrote the note below on Jan. 12, the 10 month anniversary of the nuclear plant disaster. I originally shared it only with limited circles of people. But since quite a number of people want to share it, I decided to edit it into a form of note and make it available more widely. I decided to preserve it as a note because this feeling is what I could feel only at this moment and I myself felt hesitant to simply let it flow by in the timeline of my social network pages. On archiving it as a note, I’d like to add a few things.
This is a document of my personal feelings. As I wrote in the text, I have no intention to represent something or somebody. I live in Fukushima, but in an area with relatively low radiation level. I am sure that there are many people who chose or were forced to choose to remain and live in areas with greater dangers. Reading this note, some people may feel offended because they might think that I live in a “safer” area and am “overreacting.” In that case, please simply delete my note.
No matter how people say my area is “safe,” I am still scared. And angry. And worried. It’s probably not just the matter of radiation level, but my fear, anger, and worries have been created because the information provided as the “facts” have been overturned and changed many times. Those honest feelings exist in my mind no matter how people try to deny them. Only after recognizing those feelings, I believe that we can overcome and sublimate this experience.
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To live in Fukushima
My living in Fukushima
To live in Fukushima, to me
It means, no more opening the window and taking a deep breath every morning
It means, no more drying our laundry outside
It means, to discard the vegetables grown in our garden
It means, to feel a pang at the sight of my daughter leaving the house with a mask and a dosemeter on, without even being told
It means, not to be able to touch this whitest snow
It means, to get slightly irritated sometimes when I hear the “Fight on, Fukushima” slogan
It means, to notice that I became to breathe shallowly
It means, to tell someone that I live in Fukushima and not be able to help adding “but our area’s radiation is still low…”
It means, to feel that now exist 福島 (Fukushima in Chinese characters) and FUKUSHIMA
It means, to get angry when someone tells us to “stay” feeling “What do you think of our lives?,” and to get angry when someone tells us to “flee” feeling “Don’t say it so easily! It’s not that simple!”
It means, to worry if my 6-year-old girl can get married in the future
It means, to feel like abandoning my responsibilities for having chosen to live in Fukushima
It means, to renew a deep understanding in my gut every morning that our daily lives stand on the thin-ice-like “safety,” which is kept on the sacrifices and efforts of others.
It means, to think every night that I might have to leave this house tomorrow and go far away
It means, to still pray every night that we could live in this house tomorrow
First and foremost, I pray for the health and happiness of my daughter
I cannot forget that black smoke
I want someone to understand that we still live happily more or less, nonetheless
I get furious, everyday
I pray, everyday
I have no intention to represent Fukushima. This is what to live in Fukushima means to me, only to me.
Today is the 10-month anniversary for Fukushima.
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My living in Fukushima: a note by Marika Yoshida, Senrinomichi 19.01.2012.
Se tidligere blog-indlæg om Fukushima-ulykken.
