I took the “Storyteller Bus to preserve the memories of the earthquake”* operated by the Minamisanriku Hotel Kanyo (Minamisanriku Town).
A Middle-aged man standing with microphone in hand begins to talk mater-of-factly about his experience of the earthquake.
I could see the elementary school building from the bus window. It was right next to the sea. This area is said to have suffered significant damage from the tsunami. The bus then headed for a nearby hill. The sea was now out of sight, and I saw a middle school building, and adjacent to that an expansive school yard. I thought I would hear about how everyone was saved here, and I felt a little lighter. However, that was not how the man explained. The tsunami went past the school yard and almost up the second floor of the school building. Lives were lost. “The tsunami came up to here...” I was speechless. Ten years on from the earthquake, I had come into contact with news about the earthquake in newspapers and the media, but it was the first time I heard directly from someone who had experienced the earthquake. I was left feeling that for the horror of an earthquake, there are some things that can only be conveyed through the words of survivors.

I got off from the Storyteller Bus, and at the fifth-floor lobby of the hotel Ms. Abe told me what happened at the time of the earthquake. On the other side of a large glass window was a magnificent view of Minamisanriku. Watching the calm sea, it was hard to believe that a large tsunami actually hit this area. However, at the time, the hotel must have been packed with victims of the earthquake.
When the earthquake struck, Ms. Abe was having a meeting at this fifth-floor lobby. Ms. Abe heard a cracking sound that she had never heard before coming from the lower floors.
The tsunami reached the second floor, but the upper floors were not affected. Ms. Abe noted that “The bed rock is hard so there was little damage from the tremors. Not one product fell of the store shelves.” However, lifeline services were cut off. Ms. Abe had to make immediate decisions about orders to staff and how to deal with customers. “It wasn’t a situation where we could sit on our hands.” The most challenging thing was that they had no water for four months. The information “you can take shelter if you go there” spread around the area, and a maximum of 600 people took refuge in this hotel. They held regular guest evacuation training, but the hotel never expected to take in extra evacuees. Ms. Abe recalls, “It was natural. I just did what I could as a person.”
While listening to Ms. Abe, I felt that her feelings were connected to the “Storyteller Bus.”
She said that more lives were lost in the areas further away from the sea than at the coast. “The people living at the coast had experience from the Chile Earthquake. That horror was passed down from parents to their children.” As a result, they quickly evacuated to higher ground. One of the reasons why the “Storyteller Bus” is continuing is that the words of those who experienced the earthquake can sometimes even save lives.

In 2021, an important milestone ten years on from the earthquake, they are facing the new situation of COVID-19. This hotel is part of the tourism industry, and it has not escaped impact. Last year, there were constant phone calls from people canceling their reservations at times. However, one day, the phone suddenly stopped ringing altogether. “There were not even any reservations to cancel.” However, Ms. Abe says that what they gained from the experience of the earthquake was “Don’t give up. Come up with ideas.” They are making use of this with COVID-19. “We will not stop going forward,” Ms. Abe says. As chairperson of the Miyagi Landlady Association, Ms. Abe worked together with other hoteliers. She proactively pursued the advance selling of accommodation vouchers, which was highly successful.
Ms. Abe states, “The once-in-a-thousand-year disaster was an opportunity for once-in-a-thousand-year learning.” They are making use of this mindset with COVID-19.

When the large tremors struck, Komatsu was at his family home in Kesennuma, Miyagi Prefecture. He was in the middle of packing personal belongings he would need in Tokyo into cardboard boxes.
In April, Komatsu was due to start his dream life as a university student in Tokyo. However, things didn’t turn out this way.
He wasn’t at the Nippon Budokan for the entrance ceremony, nor was he present at the Hakusan Campus where the new academic year was starting. At that time, Komatsu was temporarily staying with relatives in Iwate Prefecture. His family home in Kesennuma was swept away by the tsunami.
The boxes Komatsu had prepared for moving were nowhere to be found. Even though Komatsu and his grandparents survived by fleeing to high ground, looking back on the day it took all he had just to take in what was happening in front of his eyes.
“I starred at my house as it was swept away. At the age of 18, this was shocking for me.”
Fortunately, all members of Komatsu’s family were safe, but they had lost so much. “I thought I wouldn’t go to university. I was more preoccupied with my next meal, what would happen tomorrow, and if my friends were alive.”
It was at that time that I received a call from the Education Affairs Section. The university staff recalls,
“I kept telling him that ‘we will support you, so don’t give up on university. It is okay to come when you can.’” However, at first, it seemed that Komatsu was just lost. He became increasingly anxious about the gap between the situation in front of his eyes and his future. He sometimes broke into tears while on the phone with the university staff.
When Komatsu appeared at the Hakusan Campus, it was already the middle of May, when the recruitment of new club members had ended, and the campus returned to its usual tranquility. All Komatsu had was the bag in his hand, but he had finally decided to start rowing alone into the urban ocean. He had to cover his living expenses with part-time work. Thanks to an introduction from the university, he soon got a part-time job at the university co-op. Komatsu didn’t even have a futon in his one-room apartment, so for a few days, he slept in his jumper. University staff could not just stand by. Some were so concerned they considered offering to allow Komatsu to stay at their homes. However, Komatsu recalls, “Compared to the evacuation site, I was just happy to have my own space.”

Exactly ten years after in mid-May 2021, I looked out onto the calm sea at Kesennuma with Komatsu.
Listening to him tell me about his early days coming to Tokyo, I couldn’t help but think of him at that time as a lonely boat rocking between the waves.
“I have never disliked the sea. When I watch the sea, I feel calm for some reason.”
Komatsu is currently working at a shipyard in Kesennuma. He says that the main reason he decided to work in his hometown was that he wanted to help the recovery efforts. While we walked through the shipyard with its huge ships, Komatsu told me about the ships he worked on. His proud expression struck me.
“Now I want to help Kesennuma as much as possible through working in shipbuilding.”
Komatsu’s words held the conviction of someone who knows what they are doing with their life. At the very least, he was no longer a lonely boat rocking between the waves.