一封来自日本仙台美国女孩的EMAIL# WaterWorld - 未名水世界
r*z
1 楼
这个女孩是同事的朋友。日本的社会治安相当好啊。
Things here in Sendai have been rather surreal. But I am very blessed to
have wonderful friends who are helping me a lot. Since my shack is even
more worthy of that name, I am now staying at a friend*s home. We share
supplies like water, food and a kerosene heater. We sleep lined up in
one room, eat by candlelight, share stories. It is warm, friendly, and
beautiful.
During the day we help each other clean up the mess in our homes. People
sit in their cars, looking at news on their navigation screens, or line
up to get drinking water when a source is open. If someone has water
running in their home, they put out sign so people can come to fill up
their jugs and buckets.
Utterly amazingly where I am there has been no looting, no pushing in
lines. People leave their front door open, as it is safer when an
earthquake strikes. People keep saying, "Oh, this is how it used to be
in the old days when everyone helped one another."
Quakes keep coming. Last night they struck about every 15 minutes.
Sirens are constant and helicopters pass overhead often.
We got water for a few hours in our homes last night, and now it is for
half a day. Electricity came on this afternoon. Gas has not yet come on.
But all of this is by area. Some people have these things, others do
not. No one has washed for several days.
We feel grubby, but there are so much more important concerns than that
for us now. I love this peeling away of non-essentials. Living fully on
the level of instinct, of intuition, of caring, of what is needed for
survival, not just of me, but of the entire group.
There are strange parallel universes happening. Houses a mess in some
places, yet then a house with futons or laundry out drying in the sun.
People lining up for water and food, and yet a few people out walking
their dogs. All happening at the same time.
Other unexpected touches of beauty are first, the silence at night. No
cars. No one out on the streets. And the heavens at night are scattered
with stars. I usually can see about two, but now the whole sky is
filled.
The mountains around Sendai are solid and with the crisp air we can see
them silhouetted against the sky magnificently.
And the Japanese themselves are so wonderful. I come back to my shack to
check on it each day, now to send this e-mail since the electricity is
on, and I find food and water left in my entranceway.
I have no idea from whom, but it is there. Old men in green hats go from
door to door checking to see if everyone is OK. People talk to complete
strangers asking if they need help. I see no signs of fear. Resignation,
yes, but fear or panic, no.
They tell us we can expect aftershocks, and even other major quakes, for
another month or more. And we are getting constant tremors, rolls,
shaking, rumbling. I am blessed in that I live in a part of Sendai that
is a bit elevated, a bit more solid than other parts. So, so far this
area is better off than others. Last night my friend's husband came in
from the country, bringing food and water. Blessed again.
My brother asked me if I felt so small because of all that is happening.
I don't. Rather, I feel as part of something happening that much larger
than myself.
Things here in Sendai have been rather surreal. But I am very blessed to
have wonderful friends who are helping me a lot. Since my shack is even
more worthy of that name, I am now staying at a friend*s home. We share
supplies like water, food and a kerosene heater. We sleep lined up in
one room, eat by candlelight, share stories. It is warm, friendly, and
beautiful.
During the day we help each other clean up the mess in our homes. People
sit in their cars, looking at news on their navigation screens, or line
up to get drinking water when a source is open. If someone has water
running in their home, they put out sign so people can come to fill up
their jugs and buckets.
Utterly amazingly where I am there has been no looting, no pushing in
lines. People leave their front door open, as it is safer when an
earthquake strikes. People keep saying, "Oh, this is how it used to be
in the old days when everyone helped one another."
Quakes keep coming. Last night they struck about every 15 minutes.
Sirens are constant and helicopters pass overhead often.
We got water for a few hours in our homes last night, and now it is for
half a day. Electricity came on this afternoon. Gas has not yet come on.
But all of this is by area. Some people have these things, others do
not. No one has washed for several days.
We feel grubby, but there are so much more important concerns than that
for us now. I love this peeling away of non-essentials. Living fully on
the level of instinct, of intuition, of caring, of what is needed for
survival, not just of me, but of the entire group.
There are strange parallel universes happening. Houses a mess in some
places, yet then a house with futons or laundry out drying in the sun.
People lining up for water and food, and yet a few people out walking
their dogs. All happening at the same time.
Other unexpected touches of beauty are first, the silence at night. No
cars. No one out on the streets. And the heavens at night are scattered
with stars. I usually can see about two, but now the whole sky is
filled.
The mountains around Sendai are solid and with the crisp air we can see
them silhouetted against the sky magnificently.
And the Japanese themselves are so wonderful. I come back to my shack to
check on it each day, now to send this e-mail since the electricity is
on, and I find food and water left in my entranceway.
I have no idea from whom, but it is there. Old men in green hats go from
door to door checking to see if everyone is OK. People talk to complete
strangers asking if they need help. I see no signs of fear. Resignation,
yes, but fear or panic, no.
They tell us we can expect aftershocks, and even other major quakes, for
another month or more. And we are getting constant tremors, rolls,
shaking, rumbling. I am blessed in that I live in a part of Sendai that
is a bit elevated, a bit more solid than other parts. So, so far this
area is better off than others. Last night my friend's husband came in
from the country, bringing food and water. Blessed again.
My brother asked me if I felt so small because of all that is happening.
I don't. Rather, I feel as part of something happening that much larger
than myself.