"So long child, it's awful dark

I never felt the sun

I dread to think of when 

The wind blows" 

-David Bowie

 "Memories awashed"  is a personal account of the day I spent on the tsunami ravaged coast of Arahama and Wakayabashi, in Miyagi prefecture.A few weeks earlier, some of my colleagues and I had originally planned to go over to there with a volunteer group to help out with the cleaning effort but unfortunately pulled out in the last minute. As cliche as it may sound, an inner voice urged me to go so I decided to finance my own trip and took a bullet train from Tokyo by myself. Upon arriving in Sendai, I rented a car and drove to the coastline of Miyagi. 

 At the disaster zone, the first thing I noticed was utter devastation and debris for miles;  an apocalyptic holocaust was an understatement. Police were assigned on the corners of streets to navigate traffic. As I tried to drive in, I was stopped by one and asked me if I were a resident of the area. I simply nodded and he let me through without further interrogation. 

 I drove slowly through the partly cleared up roads and felt as if I was driving through a warzone. The devastating tsunamis showed no mercy as it bent steel and destroyed concrete buildings, turned over cars and uprooted massive trees. All the while trying to comprehend such tragedy and horror, I saw how destructive mother nature can be. 

 I went for a walk on the deserted beach where hundreds of wavebreakers stand strong yet were not quite enough to prevent the cataclysmic tsunamis from breaking through to swallow the entire city 3 miles inland. I saw eerily similar images of "the Golgotha* and *Chemin des Dames" flash into memory like pages out of the history books and they will be ingrained in my memory forever. I saw, among many completely destroyed cars, a Toyota Century sedan , reduced to a pile of broken , twisted metal and cracked glass , prophetic of the soon-to-be crippling of the myriad of large Japanese companies. There was  a truck with a Madonna carrying a mound of debris and a lone resident carefully navigating through the piles of rubble.  I saw softtoys  rescued by workers but I had no idea whether the children have been accounted for. Fresh flowers were left at a grave in a cemetery which ironically is the only structure left standing in the immediate proximity of the area. 

 I don't know what prompted me to go over but I felt a pull, an uncontrollable urge to go there no matter the cost . Yet walking around witnessing such a catastrophe, I felt hopeless and clueless. I walked away from the destruction and toward the beach lost and confused when suddenly a group of monks appeared and gathered near the coastline right in front of the ocean. They started to play their musical instruments while making chants and prayers of hope which echoed with the ocean breeze. While I was witnessed this moment, it hit me. I was there not to bring images of destruction to the world but images of hope. For even though the people of these towns may have lost everything they still remain resilient and will persevere through these difficult times with endless hope and determination. I needed to reflect this through my images as a tribute to them.

 I scoured the towns again for glimpses of hope among destruction but I needn't look hard because the images spoke right to me. Nearby where the monks were chanting,a beautiful suggestion of a dandelion of wishes having dispersed its seeds out into the sea. Further up from the beach, a show of strength and courage, where a fragile Shinto Torii gate was left standing among the rubble. Stuck in mud was a toy figure of Charlie brown,  a child possessed of endless determination and hope, having survived the disaster, still smiling.  A house, tilted on one end, all but destroyed yet a pair of boxing gloves hang out on the balcony; it simply yelled "Keep fighting!" And last but not least, the most telling of all, a lone tree, the only thing left standing within miles with it's two branches up high as if raising its arms in triumph , prevailing the destructive force of mother nature. A show of courage, strength and determination.

 The Japanese people do not need us to cry for them. On the contrary, they need us to be strong for them and to give them support and hope in an effort to rebuild their lives and to remember their lost loved ones. I hope these images can be a symbol of hope for them.

- www.ontoshiki.com - 

 * The collection of photos were curated from various trips to many cities and towns in the Tohoku and Fukushima regions.

My book can be viewed and purchased at: www.blurb.com/user/store/ontoshiki