Many of the pains in the world may not have been felt at the time, but when we pulled the time to today, 10 years later, we realized that we had walked through a period of human purgatory.
At 14:46 on March 11, 2011, an earthquake of magnitude M9.0 occurred on the seabed of Japan's Miwaku Rush, and the magnitude of the northern part of Miyazaki Prefecture reached a magnitude of 7. The earthquake triggered a tsunami that broke through the protective embankment, causing a large area of damage in the northeastern coastal areas of Aomori, Iwate, Miyagi, Fukushima, Ibaraki, and Tochigi. The earthquake also caused the incineration and explosion of three atomic reactors at the Fukushima nuclear power plant, resulting in the second-largest nuclear leak in human history in Chernobyl.
More than 470,000 people were affected, and 22,193 people died or disappeared. Nuclear leaks produce millions of tons of wastewater, and there is still no reasonable solution.
"The smell of destruction came from all directions, and that morning the 400-mile-long coast was reminiscent of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945, except that water replaced fire, silt replaced ashes, and the fishy smell of fish and silt replaced charred wood and billowing smoke."
In 2011, it was still an era of information asymmetry and no self-media.
I can't remember any information about the Great East Japan Earthquake on 311, and maybe the Japanese extracurricular teachers mentioned it in class, or maybe not. At that time, we did not pay attention to it, and at that time, it seemed to us to be just another earthquake, and the earthquake was as common as four meals a day for the country we were learning and approaching.
In 2019, emperor Heisei abdicated, I was on a content platform to plan a special issue of "Review of the Heisei 30 Years", which included a selection of topics about natural disasters, selected the 311 East Japan Earthquake, consulted a lot of official and unofficial video and text materials, and the result was that only this one could not be solved.
In 2020, all of humanity is shrouded in the shadow of COVID-19, isolated every day at home, every second under the mask, no one is not thinking about the meaning of life. After reading Richard Lloyd Parry's Elementary School Under the Great Waves, I felt like I should jot down something at some point.
This flesh that I have won with my pain,
This meteorite fed with my milk,
This made my blood stagnate in the atrium
Or plunge a chill into my bone marrow,
What is the love that makes my hair stand up?
- Yeats
In 10 years, a lot of things can be done.
432 km 2-15 meters high tidal embankment, blocking the sea view for peace;
236 kilometers of new highway opened to traffic, connecting the Sanriku coast, free of charge;
30,000 resettlement houses were completed, the land was replanned and put into use.
A lot of things, 10 years is not enough.
Today, more than 40,000 people still live in temporary shelters;
Tourist accommodation, aquatic food processing, etc. only recovered 30% of the pre-earthquake;
The population of Iwate, Miyagi, and Fukushima prefectures decreased by as much as 380,000;
Millions of tons of nuclear-contaminated wastewater, the Japanese government does not seem to consider other options other than to discharge into the Pacific Ocean. There is also endless accountability and perfunctory, concealment and truth.
The walls are moving,
There was a vibration from the soles of the feet,
A petal leaves the branch and falls.
Alone in the room,
It came and went.
Ripples last longer than stones.
The smell of rain stirs the atrium,
The nostrils are slightly open. gasp. We wait
Something to start with.
—"Shock" by Anthony Sweet
The truth may never come.
This is the weakness of human nature, lying too much, becoming the protective color of the parties, even believing it.
It's probably hard to see a better non-fiction story than The Elementary School Under the Great Waves, I don't know what the Japanese translation is in Japan, what we do know is that when the tsunami fades and another peaceful morning comes, there are many people who stayed yesterday forever.
"It's easy to think of sadness as a noble, pure emotion—one that can help clear up trivial, ephemeral thoughts and make people see the essence." But grief doesn't actually solve anything, it's just a blow to the head or a devastating illness. It exacerbates stress and confusion, making people more anxious and nervous. It swells the crack into a crack and props it up into a huge chasm. ”
Time is very casual, life is not so simple.
Throughout 2020, we are living under masks and living in fear. One meal after another, it does not resemble the original taste. We witness the cordons pulled downstairs in the neighborhood, wearing airtight white protective suits, like the white soldiers in Star Wars, unrealistic.
What is certain is that the outbreak will not pass anytime soon. It is likely that it will have a deep impact on the next 10 years, just like the 311 East Japan Earthquake, only this time, it will come more fiercely and want more.
"It's easy to describe tragedy in the most sensational language, and in many cases even too easily."
Looking back at the entire history of China, it is all about not yielding. The national epidemic prevention has achieved achievements that are obvious to all in the world, and patience and sacrifice have been exchanged for today's fresh air, unity and freedom.
In the future, there may be many people who will remember our time and do not know how to comment. I am reminded of a passage from The Kite Chaser:
I became who I am today on a cloudy, cold winter day in 1975, when I was twelve. I distinctly remember lying behind a once collapsed mud wall, peering into the alley next to the frozen stream. Many years have passed, and people say that old things can be buried, but I finally understand that this is wrong, because the past will climb up on its own. Looking back, I realize that for the past twenty-six years, I have been peering into the deserted path.