March 19, 2011 …those kindly helping hands

Oh that poor man, she feels for the person just in front of her, when his wife’s name was on “The list”.

“Your name please.”

“I was shopping. My husband was at work. My children were at school. I can’t find anyone.”

“Your name please.”

“…Tanaka, Keiko of Naida Shi.” “… Your husband is Kenji and son is Taroji and daughter, Michi?”

“Yes!”

“Well they are safe and staying at…”

And so it goes—people look for people, but so fearful of “The list”, even after one week of the quake, waiting quietly with their thoughts before they are asked.
“Your name please”.

As is “The list”, so goes other information received; this situation is evolving, so nothing is exactly correct at any time stated. In other words, if you ask if I have my passport? “Yes”, but it is still in the desk drawer.

On a more positive side of things, hardships upon hardships and then, I had mentioned to the receptionist three days ago that I could not find any rice to buy. She mentioned to some other person in the same building and two days ago she bought me 15 measured cups of rice sent from her home town (in the south) and 10 Omochis. And then again today, saying that her friend from the countryside sent a local grown rice to her writing that “I would like your friend from the US to have some of our local rice, hearing that America is really trying hard to help us.”

What can you say? What can you feel? Part of the country is down on its knees, and even in the mist of all the rubble and suffering, they think of others.

No, my passport stays in the desk. And I stay here to do what I can for a people who think of me, when they have much greater problems than my family and I going without rice for a few days.