"Somewhere far away - at least the children…"

I still sometimes catch myself murmuring this line from Nanao Tavito’s song "Kennai no uta" that came flying into my ears with the wind. "Kennai" ("within the zone") here refers to the radiation evacuation zone designated by the Japanese government. That is, of course, Fukushima.

 

March 11, 2011. On 14:46, a major earthquake hits the northeast of Japan. A giant tsunami extinguishes about 20,000 human lives, and eradicates entire villages along the coast. One day later, a reactor building explodes at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant.

Thereafter, along with a growing awareness of the seriousness of the nuclear accident, the evacuation zone was gradually expanded. On March 15, people living in the zone between 20 and 30 kilometers from the power plant were instructed to stay in their houses, and ten days later, they were requested to evacuate voluntarily. Since that time, "kennai" and "kengai" - within and outside the "zone" - have become standard terms in the discussion on the borderline between safe and unsafe in all parts of Fukushima Prefecture.

 

I heard Nanao’s "Kennai no uta" for the first time on October 29 at the "TOKYO-FUKUSHIMA! LIVE!" event at Kichijoji Baus Theater. Appearing next to Nanao were two musicians from Fukushima - Otomo Yoshihide and Endo Michiro, former vocalist and leader of the Japanese legendary punk band The Stalin. The "TOKYO-FUKUSHIMA!" event combining this concert and an exhibition was largely based on the current "Project FUKUSHIMA!"

 

The initiators and central figures behind the "Project FUKUSHIMA!" are Otomo Yoshihide, Endo Michiro and Fukushima resident poet Wago Ryoichi.

Otomo, particularly active in his role as a leader, began to spread information on the state of radioactive contamination in Fukushima on stage, on the radio and in lectures immediately after the accident. Yokohama-born Otomo came to Fukushima as a third-grader, where he grew up until moving to Tokyo at age 18.

After the accident, Otomo canceled his planned concert tour around Europe, and became increasingly engrossed in self-reflection while exchanging with the people of Fukushima, as well as with musicians and other artists. His message was clear and simple.

"We must not make 'Fukushima' a name with a negative meaning!"

 

For example, the name "Hiroshima" appears wherever people talk about the cruelty of the atomic bomb, and at the same time, it also embodies human aspiration for peace. Hiroshima has come to stand for peace because a number of successful cultural events themed around peace have been staged in Hiroshima. In other words, culture has the power to change meanings of names. If we send out culture from Fukushima, that will surely give "Fukushima" a positive meaning. That’s what Otomo was convinced of.

His concrete plans included the launch of a Fukushima-based Internet broadcasting station, the establishment of a school training a new generation of artists, and as a highlight, a music festival for approximately 10,000 people in Fukushima on August 15, the day marking the end of World War II. Admission to the festival was to be free. It was Endo Michiro who first talked about the idea to do this festival. (*1)

Only four months later, 13,000 visitors from across Japan gathered at the festival venue. The various concerts, performances and poetry readings on multiple stages were all miraculously brilliant, and above that, they were all penetrated by the same thought. Footage of the festival was streamed live via the Internet, and musicians around the world who sympathized with the project staged simultaneous performances in several different countries. The "8.15 Festival FUKUSHIMA!" was a huge success.

 

At the end of October, with the memory of the festival still fresh in our minds, this time it was "Fukushima" that came traveling down to Tokyo, for an event titled "TOKYO-FUKUSHIMA!" The festival’s three key players performed on the same stage, and personally I was particularly looking forward to seeing Nanao play, as I had missed his set at the previous festival.

The first artist to appear was Otomo Yoshihide. After continuously running at full speed up to the festival opening, he finally seemed to have calmed down and showed a relaxed improvised performance on the guitar and several drums. In between sets, an MC briefly explained the outline of the "Project FUKUSHIMA!"

 

When Nanao was about to take the stage, a friend who was standing next to me whispered in my ear,

"You know there’s a line in his 'Kennai no uta' that goes 'I want to take at least the children somewhere far away.' I think it’s a good song, but apparently there was some controversy in Fukushima regarding those lyrics. After all, there are families that for whatever reason can't just leave…"

My friend muttered with a wry face, "That’s really a difficult part…" Like Nanao, neither myself nor that friend are from Fukushima.

Next on the program was said "Kennai no uta". The song starts off with slowly picked guitar notes and lyrics illustrating the beauty and warmth of the beloved homeland, before the word "radiation" pops up and adds a notion of brutality to the idyllic scenery. That line, "I want to take at least the children somewhere far away" finally wipes the last bits of nostalgia away, and depicts instead a frightful landscape covered with radioactive substances.

For some it was probably painful or bothersome to listen to the song, but while advocating evacuation out of the danger zone, it also seemed to be expressing Nanao’s sincere feeling of helplessness in light of the threatening radiation, which left him with no other option but to wish for a positive outcome from outside the "zone".

 

Quite in contrast to Nanao’s lyrics, the "Genpatsu (nuclear power plant) Blues", shouted and played on the guitar by Endo Michiro, got right down to the dirty stuff.

"My power plant / melt down / radioactive rays / scattered around…" (*2)

Those familiar with the scandalous yet humorously allusive lyrics from his "Stalin" days will probably interpret "my power plant" as a phallic metaphor.

A power plant that has been hidden under the veil of alleged "safety" in the phallocentric Japanese postwar society going berserk is indeed comparable to a willie growing stiffer and stiffer against its owner’s will, and finally chucking its stinky semen all over the place.

The "owner" here is none other than Japan, a nation that achieved spectacular economic growth thanks to the tremendous energy supplied by nuclear power, and that went on to waste tons of energy ever after. It is no longer deniable that nuclear power plants were attracted to the regions that as a result managed to raise employment rates and wallow in the patronage of nuclear power. Endo’s song addresses the people that accepted the power plant as part of their own flesh and blood, and as the Japanese are all bearing the responsibility for this, we are all equally concerned. In other words, if Nanao was singing his song from "kengai", Endo’s was a clearly "kennai" point of view that made it clear that none of us can really get away from the "zone".

 

"Inside" and "outside" the zone - or "Fukushima" and "Tokyo"

"TOKYO-FUKUSHIMA!" made people aware of these two poles. In terms of visualizing them, the "Fukushima Ooburoshiki", displayed as a document in the foyer of the Kichijoji Art Museum, was a particularly meaningful exhibition.

 

There were a number of people other than musicians, poets and other artists that assumed key roles at the festival. One of them is Kimura Shinzo, a scientist specializing in radiation hygiene.

Upon hearing about the accident at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, Kimura was eager to commence research as soon as possible, but was advised to refrain from independent investigations on site by the lab under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare that he belonged to. Therefore, he immediately quit his post at the laboratory, and arrived in Tohoku on March 15, where he began to conduct research and collect minute primary data using radiation counters at various locations across the afflicted area, driving more than 5,000 kilometers in total from one place to the next. He took soil samples, sent them to specialists in environmental radioactivity and dose assessment in all parts of Japan, asked them for analyses of radionuclides, and continued to create a radioactive contamination map based on detailed results of his fieldwork. A special program documenting Kimura’s activities was aired on NHK’s ETV channel on May 15, and attracted great interest. Otomo himself was one of those who were deeply impressed by Kimura’s endeavors.

 

When planning the festival, Otomo was feeling uneasy about the fact that that people from all over Japan would gather in Fukushima, where the level of radiation was still higher than in other prefectures. With only little information available, he did want visitors to come, but couldn't assume responsibility for their health. In his dilemma, Otomo got in touch with Kimura immediately after watching the program on TV, and asked him to conduct radiation measurements around the venue prior to the festival. Kimura readily agreed, and above that, he offered advice on radiation safeguarding for the overall management of the event, and eventually appeared on the festival stage to give a lecture. This is how Kimura Shinzo made significant contributions in regard to the realization of the festival.

When measuring radiation prior to the event, he pointed out that, compared to paved roads, the risk of exposure to radiation was much greater on the grass, and suggested that measures should be taken to prevent visitors from getting in direct contact with the ground around the venue. Upon Otomo’s question what exactly should be done, Kimura replied with great facility, "Why don't we just cover the ground with a piece of cloth?" That’s how the "Fukushima Ooburoshiki" - the "great Fukushima wrapping cloth" - was born. (*3)

 

Artist Nakazaki Tohru and architect Asano Cohta, who were involved with the making of the Ooburoshiki, were dumbfounded by the scientist’s simple idea that set the project going. The ground at the venue was mostly grassy, so they were going to need quite a big furoshiki (wrapping cloth) to cover it all… The two eventually worked out a plan, according to which the "Project FUKUSHIMA!" committee appealed via Twitter and their website to people across Japan, asking to send spare furoshiki. The donated wrappers were collected at Otomo’s father’s factory, where large numbers of volunteer helpers spent weeks sewing the pieces together to make several huge sheets of cloth.

At nine in the morning on the day of the festival, the giant furoshiki was spread out on the grass under a dazzlingly bright blue sky. Under the instruction of Nakazaki, Asano, Otomo and Kimura, and in line with the stage design, and measures ensuring visitor safety and a sense of security, countless volunteers took care of the furoshiki until it was in the right place two hours later. The various colors and designs of the different pieces created a cheerful atmosphere, and at the same time, reminded everyone that the festival that was just about to start was going to be an especially meaningful one.

In a documentary exhibition in Tokyo, a sealed, cube-shaped acrylic box containing a part of the actual "ooburoshiki" was displayed in front of a video monitor showing footage of the entire procedure. The furoshiki looked at first glance like a decorative, neatly patch-worked piece of cloth, but when considering its actual function shielding off radioactivity, I couldn't help but think of the box as an object on the inside and outside of which "kennai" and "kengai" respectively coexist with a sense of tension.

 

Compared to the radioactivity that will probably stick around for decades, centuries, or even longer, the "Project FUKUSHIMA!" has just begun. Will the project manage to give Fukushima a positive name? First of all, we have to make the project known in order to achieve this. (*4)

I am writing this text knowing that it will be translated, and as someone outside the zone, I sincerely hope that it will help spread the word of the "Project FUKUSHIMA!" among people in many different countries. Somewhere far away. Somehow.

 

 

1) More on the "Project FUKUSHIMA!" and "8.15 Festival FUKUSHIMA!" in "Chronicle FUKUSHIMA" (Seidosha, Inc., 2011) by Otomo Yoshihide and others.

 

2) Endo Michiro, "Genpatsu Blues". "Ore no mawari wa (Around me)" and "Genpatsu Blues" can be downloaded in mp3 format for 500 yen or more from the website below. Proceeds go to the "Project FUKUSHIMA!"

http://www.pj-fukushima.jp/diy_details/diy_list_details002.html

 

3) "Ooburoshiki wo hirogeru" ("to spread out a large furoshiki") is a metaphoric Japanese expression referring to an act of starting or exclaiming something on an adventurously big scale.

 

4) Up-to-date information on the "Project FUKUSHIMA!" is available on the official website.

http://www.pj-fukushima.jp/en/