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Evacuees from Futaba, a town near the tsunami-crippled Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear plant, arrive to an evacuation shelter near Tokyo. (Eugene Hoshiko/AP Photo / March 19, 2011) |
March 11, 2012
By José Holguín-Veras
Los Angeles Times
I am an engineer and a disaster researcher; I went to Japan after the March 11, 2011, magnitude 9.0 Tohoku earthquake to try to identify lessons there that could benefit future disaster-response operations.
In late May, I was following the usual research routine of interviewing individuals involved at the various stages of the disaster response, and particularly those involved in the distribution of critical supplies as part of the relief effort.
In a refugee center on the beautiful island of Miyatojima, at the entrance to Matsushima Bay, I stumbled on a story that, by its reach back in time, taught me something unexpected: Collective memory, as much as science and engineering, may save your life.
After a long day of field work, my colleagues and I were chatting with a community leader, Koutaro Ogata, from a fishing village called Murohama. We asked what had happened to him in the moments after the earthquake. He told us that he and his neighbors were well aware that a large earthquake would generate a large tsunami and they knew, particularly, what to do because "a thousand years ago" a massive earthquake and tsunami had all but wiped out Murohama.
This is the story he told. A millennium ago, the residents of Murohama, knowing they were going to be inundated, had sought safety on the village's closest hill. But they had entered into a deadly trap. A second wave, which had reached the interior of the island through an inlet, was speeding over the rice paddies from the opposite direction. The waves collided at the hill and killed those who had taken refuge there. To signify their grief and to advise future generations, the survivors erected a shrine.