Crate & Barrel, Japan Division: Onagawa, Part 3

Yes, quite a significant gap between Parts 2 and 3. Being back in America has been much much busier than I anticipated. But here it is, my final (and shortest) post about Onagawa. I wanted to describe the story of how I became connected with Onagawa, and the project I did before going.

Stuck in Ishikawa, I wanted very much to do something to raise money to help Tohoku and the affected areas. Inspired by some of the other initiatives I saw going on, I collected all kinds of artwork from expats around the prefecture and combined it into a 50-page art journal. I then sold copies of the journal to people to raise money. Most of the people who read this blog regularly know about the journal, but you might not know about the interesting shift in my thinking that occurred in regards to where to donate the money I raised.

I had no real idea where the money would be going, but I had some vague sense that I would donate it to be used for buying blankets, food, and necessities. Perhaps the Red Cross, perhaps my favorite charity organization Mercy Corps.

Then, near the end of the production cycle for the journal, my friend Anna emailed following a weekend volunteer trip that she'd taken to Onagawa. Through her boyfriend Stephen, she met Fujinaka-sensei and heard about one of his many missions--to save two cherry trees.

Cherry trees carry enormous weight in Japanese culture, and they symbolize everything from rebirth to the samurai spirit to the transience of life. Two cherry trees near the center of Onagawa were almost destroyed by the tsunami but miraculously survived; Fujinaka and his friends had decided to save them and create a memorial park. Anna suggested that I donate the art journal money to that memorial park fund.

I liked the story of the trees, and I liked the connection of an art journal going to support something meant mainly as a metaphor, but I had reservations. Wasn't it too soon? Didn't people need food and supplies first, survival? Nonetheless, I talked more with Anna and was convinced that it was a worthy cause. Still, I didn't quite understand or get it in my gut. That changed immediately when I traveled through Onagawa and then stood in front of the trees.

The town is a trash heap, and its survivors live in the higher surrounding areas. In a very real way, there is no Onagawa anymore. What is it that makes a town a town? What binds a community? What is home, and why do we stay there? Onagawa needs rallying points, symbols to remind people about the town they loved and that rebirth is possible. Certainly, the cherry trees are not the only rallying point, and clearly people are taking inspiration from many other sources, but I felt immensely humbled and happy to have been part of that process. I think there is a time for food and supplies and utilitarian survival, and a time for the deeper meanings that make that survival worthwhile.