As with big events, the usual question arises, "Where were you?" Well... I was with my co-worker at the Saizeriya for our Friday, just tucking into my spinach gratin, when the building started shaking as though we were on a boat. We set down our silverware and waited for the shaking to pass, but then the shock wave that suddenly hit prompted a woman's scream, a couple of plates to hit the floor in the kitchen, and a swift relocation under the table. As 3 elderly women started screaming and running toward the door, I shouted over the noise, 'Don't run!' 'Don't run!' as I was afraid their reaction would create a panic and stampede in the partially occupied restaurant, almost certainly leading to someone getting hurt.
During the 4 or 5 minutes we spent under the table on the floor-turned-waterbed, I mentally assessed our position. We were about 10 meters from the main restaurant door, about 10 meters from the kitchen entrance, and 25 meters from the toilets. Outside didn't seem like the best place as I watched the numerous power lines swaying precariously above the roadway. The kitchen was definitely out as it was the falling plates that led to our choosing to sit under the table. And while the toilet is usually a safe place in the house, it was far from the main restaurant exit, in the back of the restaurant.
It was interesting to see the restaurant patrons' collection reaction when the shaking stopped-- the next sound was zippers, as people opened their bags to extract mobile phones to investigate the source and magnitude of the quake.
As we crawled out from under the table and resumed our lunch, we continued to feel aftershocks. The first aftershock was fairly strong, and the all-too-recent memory of the initial quake sent a few people to the floor in anticipation of a return to the shelter of the tables. While I didn't go to the floor, I set down my silverware and waited, as did most of the customers. A funny and shocking scene-- behind us, the businessman continued spooning soup into his mouth, reading his work papers, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.
My co-worker's first concern was getting in touch with her 85-year-old mother and her husband, to make sure both were okay.
The few kids who turned up today for English class were worried, scared, and excited. In between reports of someone getting a bloody nose in class, getting to have lunch with the ALT, and not having any homework for math class came the real truths-- scrambling under desks when the quake hit, wondering if Dad was okay and could he get home from the office in downtown Tokyo, and was the tsunami going to hit Saitama. Indeed, as a couple of strong aftershocks prompted us to send the kids under the tables, the fear of disaster striking was quite apparent, especially in the little ones.
Life in my area is continuing on as normally as possible, with a few exceptions. Businesses with automatic doors have set them to manual open for safety purposes, in spite of the late winter chill. My local supermarket and pharmacy have shut for the day, and there are other small establishments which have closed under the circumstances. Train services have been completely stopped in East Japan, so the station, which normally should have been crowded with commuters, was eerily silent at 6.30pm. Convenience stores have a larger-than-normal flow of purchasing supplies, and the station restaurants still open serving up dishes to the people waiting to get home.
Yet the feeling of impending doom still pervades. Each of the countless aftershocks brings fear that the Big One is not far behind. It's hard not to wonder if it's safe to go to sleep, and did I purchase enough supplies to get through a couple of days if necessary, and are my valuables really in a safe place to retrieve should I need to leave quickly. Do I know where the nearest emergency gathering point is, and do I have the right stuff to take.
Information is a vital piece of disaster management. Listening to NHK, I am thankful that I can understand the Japanese language broadcast for the most part, and can piece together what's happening. Although it is easy to fall into the trap of assuming English holds a linguistic presence in a given country, the most comprehensive and vital information could be contained in the local language. So, my message to fellow expatriates living in countries where a language besides English is spoken... as Denzel Washington tells Ethan Hawke about Spanish, "learn that shit."
The gates at Kita Koshigaya Station should normally have a large continuous wave of people coming off the trains from Tokyo, but tonight sit (almost eerily) silent.
The shuttered ticket machines and people staring at the closed entrance, wondering how to get home.
Hand-written notice at the station ticket window. For those who don't read Japanese, this basically says that train service has stopped due to the earthquake, and the JR line (2 stations up) is also shut. They apologize for the inconvenience caused.
In spite of the late winter night chill, businesses with automatic doors have opened them manually for safety purposes. Two signs on the door advertise this fact. Opening the in the event of an earthquake, if possible, helps assure that an escape route is preserved.
The Family Mart next door, also with its doors opened. Although the station convenience store is usually a busy place, tonight was particularly busy with people purchasing supplies in case.
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