Three months after the disaster, I finally was able to spend a day actually volunteering instead of coordinating. I left my house at 5:00am and took the bullet train up to Sendai to connect with one of our volunteer teams who were working at a farm house in Shiogama. Quite a ways inland, we could see from the line on the walls that the water from the tsunami had still reached well over our heads. Our CRASH (Christian Relief, Assistance, Support and Hope) teams have been here for weeks already and there is still so much work to be done. The task before us today was to clean out the black tsunami sludge from a small out-building that was used to make pickles and miso. The traditional way of preparing these foods is to let them sit in vats until they are ready to eat, letting the flavor become rich and distinctive to each local area. While we worked, other members of our team sat and listened to the elderly woman who had been born in the house tell of its hundred year history and the shock of losing everything.
After dumping wheelbarrows full of the black, foul smelling sludge we were able to pull out the large vats that were used for making the miso, a spicy paste made from fermented soybeans, that is used in so many traditional Japanese dishes. The huge vats had been cemented together by the mud and we held little hope of being able to use them again.
Next came a wooden cabinet that was carefully emptied of all the treasures that it contained, stacks of dishes, various bowls and cups that would be brought out for special occasions to hold all of the pickles, soy sauce and food that would cover the table. Each mud-caked dish was set aside to be washed by the next team and we pulled the ancient cabinet out. Next there was a discussion with the owner of the house, should we keep it or throw it away. The shelves and panels were falling apart but the frame was solid and made entirely without nails. Even breaking it up to throw it out would be difficult. While we were trying a heavy equipment driver came around the corner to haul away broken cement and offered to break down the old cabinet as well. All we could do is agree with the owner that it was a shame to lose it but nothing could be done.
In the back of the building we found a small vat of unopened miso, perhaps this one could be saved? As we opened it the pungent smell overpowered the foul odor of the sludge that our noses were becoming used to. The women came out of the house to see if it was any good and everyone exclaimed how delightful the smell was. But when we opened it up, we found that the terrible water had found its way in and the miso was ruined. Three year Sendai miso that had been put in the year before – what a waste. The grandmother once again had tears in her eyes, but we told her we don’t have to throw away the vat – “it is still usable, you can make miso again for next year.” We scooped out the bright orange miso from the vat, and the center part looked good enough to eat, but of course we could not.
By the end of the day, the small building was clean and bare, the dishes laid out for the next day’s team to clean and wash and surprisingly the large wooden vats came unstuck and were able to be saved as well! As we looked around it seemed such a small accomplishment in the midst of so many homes, even just in the context of this one home. But what struck me was that as this family struggled with loss, whether we were able to save something or only help them throw away the things that could not be saved, they did not have to do it alone. I told the grandmother as we prepared to go that I was looking forward to trying some of her 3 year Sendai miso. 