It shook and it shook, then it shook some more, and it shook so hard that I thought the roof would fall, then it stopped as if to take a breath and kept shaking ever after.
At the risk of sound like a dark fairy tale , this is how the earthquake felt.
In the coming days when all conversations started with “what were you doing when the quake struck”, I would like to set my record clear.The date and time of the shake is well known, it began at 2:46 PM on March 11th, 2011. I was at my desk, located on the 9th floor of our building, on a call with my team in India when the quake struck.
When the quake started I did not pause, after all earthquakes are common in Japan and we had one only 2 days back. Then it got stronger, so I said to the other person on the line ”wait there’s a quake happening here”. And then it got stronger and I said “it’s a strong one, I’ll call you back”. I did not call back.
The biggest fear we have is to be embarrassed, come out whimpering or go overboard with profanities in a time of crisis, both signs of uncontrollable fear. If I remember correctly I did neither, the worst that would have come out of my mouth was “Oh Shit” and stood up and shouted “Everybody Down”.
To explain how you feel when a magnitude 9 earthquake strikes is difficult, but anyway I will try. There’s this feeling when your airplane runs into turbulence. The plane shakes, shudders and you know it is just normality, tilting gently towards extreme, but you know its not going to go all the way and will come back. Then it shakes stronger, you grab the armrest, gulp and assure yourself that its going to be all right, then the plane drops and your heart comes into your mouth , you fight the urge to scream and then it steadies. Only this time the plane kept shaking and went on dropping in regular cycles , until I knew somebody had called the bluff, and there was no possible way a plane could drop so much and not crash.
The office swayed from side to side, strongly , violently ,in sharp jerks and then it slowed down. The as if somebody had decided a change of rhythm was required, it went into a circular motion. So now instead of side to side, we swayed in circular patterns. Hiding below our desks, oblivious to all that was falling around, and kept our heads down, trying to make sure that nothing fell on us.
I looked up to see whether the roof was coming down, and in the blur of the shake, realized that it was still intact. Then I lowered my head, ready for what would happen. But the roof did not crash, and the shaking stopped.
Then, we all stood up, ashen faced, pulses pounding, voices breaking and forgot all the emergency procedure learnt over the years. Nobody knew what needed to be done, until someone suggested evacuation was required.
We debated whether to go by the back-staircase, which was exposed or by the covered one and decided on the latter. Coming down from the ninth floor, mixing with office-workers on the other eight floors, the absence of any panic did not look out of ordinary. We walked in order , but with a hurried step and finally came out and stood on the sidewalk.
One of the biggest risks of an earthquake is falling debris, and standing near buildings is strongly advised. But in the confidence that comes of out surviving such a big-shock, our attitudes cocky, we stood outside joking , till we understood that none of us could reach our families over phone and all the lines were jammed. And when it became apparent that even SMS’s were not working panic began to creep in.
And then the aftershocks came, waves after waves, and standing on the sidewalk, I saw buildings sway, as if in a trance, swinging side to side , forcing us to run to the safety of the nearest car-park. One shock after another and I concluded it would not make sense to stay there anymore and the only option was to head home.
The only problem, as my boss made me understand , was that the subway would not work, and all attempts at flagging down taxis failed. All available taxis had been snapped up, and the odd empty one was not available, the driver probably heading home to his family. I had to walk all the way home and had no clue how and where to go.
Then, along with 2 of my colleagues who lived in the same area as mine, guided by the GPS on the iphone, we started our walk home. The wonder of GPS is that it makes all human contact redundant, every twist, every turn is clearly marked out. It clearly pointed out that my house was a 15 Kms walk from my office, a fact which had escaped my attention for the last two and a half years. It asked me to climb the pedestrian crossing here, get down turn left there, walk hundred metres somewhere, turn right etc etc etc.
So we walked along with thousands of others, grim faced, the quake and the worry about family being as much as a reason, as the acceptance of the fact that all of us would be walking a long way this cold winter afternoon. Some wore helmets, an indication that their companies were better prepared for earthquakes, but most did not. Getting on the Showa Dori , moving towards Shimbashi, on towards Ginza, the crowd marched. There was little conversation among the temporary refugees walking towards the safety of their homes. The only acknowledgement or sign of camaraderie coming from an American, walking the other way.
“Big Shake” he said to me in the passing, and it took me a while to understand what he had said, and my standard “So desu ne”(expression of agreement) came out before I figured out that he was talking in English. And on we marched past closed subway stations, liquor shops running out of beer, cafes already closing for the day, under overcast skies with the occasional drizzle, running into the convenience store to buy an umbrella and coming out and realising that the rain has stopped.
And at that moment, with only the earthquake on our minds, we were oblivious to other events unfolding. The tsunami had stuck and wiped out towns and villages and a crisis was unfolding at the Fukushima nuclear power station. My focus was on walking fast and calling up my wife at the same time, my phone constantly on the re-dial mode. But the calls did not go through and the tension kept on building up.
The three of us who walked together had a lot in common, our kids studied at the same school and our wives also worked there. So we reassured each other with stories of what would have happened at the school when the quake struck, how they would have evacuated to the nearest park and would wait there before heading home. And this was exactly what had happened, the school having closed early due to annual exams, and most kids already home when the quake stuck. The remaining kids evacuated to a park and then going to a local ward run community hall, till all the parents came and collected.
We passed another subway station and decided to enter to find out when the trains would start. It was more a sign of desperation than optimism, having walked close to 8 kms , the legs tired and leaden and steps getting slower. When the station in-charge told that he had no idea when they would start, we came back to reality and decided to continue walking rather than waste any time.
The after-shocks still came, and at one point we ran across, bits of debris falling from an old building. Shop attendants stood on the roads, cleaning up and warning people to stay away from the buildings. But as we neared the suburbs, the crowds built up, leaving little option, but to walk on what space was available. The roads were filled with traffic, cars, taxis, but no buses.
To get a news update we entered an NTT Docomo(cellular service provider) shop with a television monitor on. The scale of the disaster was getting clearer slowly, the tsunami news was out, but the destruction not realised. But we also understood that the destruction in Tokyo had been minimal, only a few roofs collapsing and reports of a few fires.
Good news also comes in waves and finally my colleague was able to reach his wife on phone and able to confirm the safety of all others. So our step grew lighter and talk brighter and we decided to stop at a Café for a break. The waitress told us that the gas had been switched off, so the kitchen was closed and only drinks from the vending machines would be served. My optimism from the waves of good news pushed me into asking for beer.
The waitress went to speak to the manager and came back. “I’m really sorry, but we will not serve anything other then what is there on the vending machines” she told. My bubble pricked, I settled for a cup of hot cocoa and switched on my PC to try to connect to the internet and mail my wife. Having successfully done that and rested for a while, we set out again.
After all the good news came we finally got a lucky break. As we stepped outside of the café, there was a taxi by the kerb, with the driver involved in some dispute with the passenger. They were talking , the driver opened the automatic passenger side door, the passenger closed it and yet the taxi did not move. And this interaction raised some hope in us, maybe the passenger would come out and we would be able too get in. And still the drama inside continued, but finally the passenger emerged and we checked with the driver and he agreed to take us inside.
Not believing our luck, we got inside quickly, before the driver changed his mind and mentioned our destination. The driver set off, explaining that he had some trouble with the earlier passenger. And the trouble was, we realized, that the passenger wanted to go further, but did not have enough cash on him. Because the phone lines were jammed, the credit card gateway did not work, and the passenger did not have any choice , but to get off, halfway into his journey.
Then, when the taxi driver amazed that we had walked around 10 km before boarding a taxi, and even more amazed to be driving three Indians on the most extraordinary day Japan had experienced in decades, described his experience of the earthquake. He has been, it appeared, on a suspension bridge, when the quake came. The bridge shook so strongly, that he was afraid it would collapse, but it did not, and he survived , to drive us to our destination. Then he went on about how he thought India would be the next Superpower, and then about how his friend, visited India, and when eating at a restaurant, had his bill paid by a total stranger, just because he was a foreigner. The he asked me, whether this thing often happened in India. And I, at a loss for words, finally finding a positive experience from somebody about India, blurted out that it did.
And so our journey ended, we got dropped nearby our homes, and went back to our families. I reaching home, getting a big hug from my wife and some tears. Surprisingly my 7 year old son seemed unaffected until the aftershocks came and we sent him to hide below the dining table. And as the aftershocks continue, this has became a game, a shake and a run under the table. As the television is visible from under the table, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. And finally after a 10 km walk and a lucky taxi ride, all the tensions disappeared and I denied a beer at the café, opened a can and toasted to getting through the quake.
Aftermath
The aftershocks continued and we spend a turbulent weekend, sitting at home, talking to family, assuring all , that we were safe and would continue to be so. And we thought, that we had overcome a momentous event, not realising that the next events would reduce the magnitude 9 earthquake so something relatively minor.
The panic that followed in the next few days, the rumours of an even bigger quake happening soon, and then the nuclear nightmare unfolding, and the press, deprived of a happening event, projected, extrapolated and magnified the earthquake so big, that the exodus from Japan resulted in the birth of a new word “ Flyjin”. The press hyperventilated and panic turned virulent.
Connections which supported members turned infectious and the epidemic of fear spread. The thing about fear is that it coats you with emotion and strips you of reason. It attacks what is the weakest in you and makes it the most dominant part. It allows you to enact your deepest fears, it emasculates without the shame which accompanies it.
There is no right or wrong in the exodus that happened, people gave up decades of friendships and relationships in single moments of irrationality. And those of us who remained, lived with daily bouts of self-doubts, fighting our fears every moment and overcoming them at the end of every day.
The aftershocks that came and are still coming, the radiation fears different in shape but still there, tested even the strongest.
Each day is a rollercoaster, taking us through various states, the panic of contaminated water sending us to the supermarket queuing up before starting time and having waited for that time, the bottles of water disappeared in 10 minutes. Each day brought a new panic and a new rush of buying, toilet paper one day, batteries another and bread and milk some other day.
The Nuclear power plant leaked and contaminated, stabilised and then started spewing again. Yet a team of people , named and lionised as the Fukushima 50(though the total number was close to 200) worked in fixing power lines, spraying water and doing all that could be done to bring radiation under control.
On the other side, a cabinet minister(being touted as the next Prime Minister) sleepless, went in front of cameras hour after hour, day after day, updating the press and the general public. The foreign press understood partly, added their perception and hyped up the scale of disaster. The Japanese press on the other hand, focused on hyping the flight of foreigner and each day brought news of another country evacuating or giving advisories.
It is now two weeks since the earthquake now and living through a scale of situations and emotions has only brought out what I love about this country. The sense of decency , the discipline , the calm, the order even in times of panic buying has only reinforced my faith. So having to queue up early morning to buy mineral water, riding crowded subways running on less frequency, or working in dimly lit offices to conserve power , all seem worth it. I do not mind the occasional question as to why I am not leaving Japan because I know it comes more out of curiosity than malice. And I know, whatever may come, we’ll be all right.
