And So I Resolve

It's March 16, Wednesday, 7:21 pm here in Kamakura.

It is only 5 degrees Celsius outside, but it is nothing compared to the cold of those affected in Northeast Japan. They have suffered so much: the earthquake, the tsunami, the threat of radiation. And now, they suffer more: the snow, the cold, the lack of food, drinking water, a hot bath.... And so, I resolve not to complain about 5 degrees.

It is 15 degrees in my study room now... a far cry from the cold darkness of whoever might still be under the ruins left by the tsunami, or in some car hoisted somewhere by the violent waves of March 11. And so, I resolve not to complain about 15 degrees.

It is the 3rd hour that we have electricity tonight after a 4-hour power interruption. Electricity is being rationed around the country as 6 nuclear reactors are being repaired, with one in Fukushima on the brink of a meltdown. But what's a 4-hour loss of electricity to a lifetime loss of loved one up north? And so, I resolve not to complain about power outages.

It is cold in my room now. All around the country, everybody is asked to cooperate to save as much electricity. It is quite uncomfortable to work indoors with your thick winter jacket on. My metal desk is just too strong cold despite the blanket on my legs. My ankles are cold, and so are my feet. But what are these compared to those who have lost not just heaters and blankets, but their whole house, their farm, their fishing boats... yes, their source of living. And so, I resolve not to complain about saving electricity.

It is so quiet now in Kamakura. I have already gotten used to the local and foreign tourists coming over. But these days are just too quiet. Yet, what have I to say when confronted with many cities and towns bereft of even the annoying sound of a railroad crossing siren, places that have been erased from the map by the unforgiving sea. And so, I resolve not to complain about the silence.

It is just so irritating -- these itchy eyes, this runny nose, this pollen allergy! No matter how much you put those new "minus ion" ointments, no matter how devoted you put drops in your eyes, the allergy will never go away. But what is this compared to the many old people whose maintenance medicines were forgotten and washed away by the tsunami. What is this to the usual call of the evacuees of the lack of medicine, just a little dose that can extend their life and see their cities and towns come back again. And so, I resolve not to complain about my pollen allergy.

It is just confusing! No, it's not the government. It's not the long lines at supermarkets and gas stations. It's not the stubborn aftershocks and plate movements under. It's the many news that come out, and many of them edited to sow over-reaction. It's the many opinions of people who feign knowledge of almost anything from nuclear science to social work and rescue. It's the many words that get written on social networks and comment boxes that make you tempted to hate, to get selfish, or just plainly to discriminate. Yet, there are a lot of people out there who cannot even get hold of any computer to mail their loved ones, people who have to fall in line and use specially set-up phones for just one minute to call their relatives and tell them they made it out, people who have no other words to say in front of TV cameras but cry and hope their loved ones might be in another far away shelter. And so, I resolve not to complain about the confusion.

And if there is anyone who has the right to complain right now,

it is the grandmother who left her glasses in that washed-away house,

it is the town mayor who saw 20 of his workers washed away by the waves as they held on the railing of their 3-floor town hall,

it is the father who cries because not even one photograph was left,

it is the high school kid who might have passed the university exams but cannot go any further, it is the little girl who still does not know if her parents are alive or not,

it is the baby who has not even a good clean diaper for change,

it is the farmer who has lost his land or has his land tainted by radiation,

it is the old man who knows that destruction is never the end and prays that he sees the rebirth of the place he has always called "home".

And so I resolve not to complain.

And so I resolve to offer any whatever can be made into a worthy prayer and sacrifice.

And so I resolve to wait and get my chance to help.

Photo taken from http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/03/14/article-1366155-0B2A6F2600000578-79_634x470.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1366155/Japan-earthquake-tsunami-4-month-old-baby-girl-father-reunited-Ishinomaki.html&usg=__val68k-GtoRcKg1tLfvgaGwXxNE=&h=470&w=634&sz=108&hl=en&start=13&zoom=1&tbnid=eXtvsA5iqIuxIM:&tbnh=102&tbnw=137&ei=3MCATaLsBcrXcf_zpeIG&prev=/images%3Fq%3DJapan,%2Bbaby%2Bfound%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DN%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1176%26bih%3D1084%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C6&um=1&itbs=1&biw=1176&bih=1084