Aftershocks continued to rattle through at intervals all through the night, and I didn't sleep very well. I roused myself at a little past seven, just in time for breakfast to be served. This consisted of more rice balls, a simple stew, cold oolong tea, and a selection of Japanese snacks like fish sausage. The power was still out. Seeing no particular reason to linger, I walked back to my apartment. I was somewhat relieved to find that the rattling of the china was now intermittent rather than continuous. I made myself some coffee (with the gas working I could at least do that much), and prodded rather half- heartedly at the mess all over the floor. That could wait, I decided after a while; it was time to do some reprovisioning. If it was true, as I'd heard the previous evening, that Fukushima City had electricity, then I assumed that meant that shops would be open. If my town was basically undamaged from the earthquake, it stood to reason that the city was probably no worse off. Indeed, with the benefit of electric power, it was possible that things there might be pretty much normal. I hoped it might also be possible to get some real information about what had happened. From my point of view, all I knew was that a large earthquake had struck somewhere off the coast of Miyagi (big enough to shake buildings and knock out power in rural Fukushima), and that it had apparently spawned a tsunami that flooded Sendai Airport and some other coastal areas. I didn't know what kind of casualties, if any, there might be. I'd seen a fairly long line of cars waiting at the gas station across from the health centre that morning. Fortunately, I had at least a third of a tank, enough for two or three round trips into the city if need be. I made a mental list of what I needed, hopped into my car, and drove off. The traffic lights were nonfunctional until I approached the main part of Fukushima, but otherwise nothing in particular seemed amiss. I saw no obvious damage within the city, but was mildly surprised to find almost all the shops closed. I was able to buy about a week's worth of kerosene, as well as some instant noodles, pasta sauce, soup, eggs, and some oranges -- enough food for a couple of days, perhaps. Surely things would be back to normal in my town by then. I didn't manage to find much in the way of information, however. I was, however, quite relieved to run into some of my elementary school students, out shopping for groceries. Relieved, because these particular students were from the oldest and presumably most vulnerable school building in the town, and yet they seemed as healthy and cheerful as ever. Everyone was fine, they said. Consequently, I was feeling almost upbeat as I headed home. When I reached my apartment, it was just past two thirty, or almost exactly twenty-four hours since the earthquake. I was pleased to see that my block had power back again. Getting inside and quickly putting away my supplies, I turned on the television (apparently none the worse for its little tumble) and plugged in my laptop. The TV news was in Japanese, as usual. The English-language audio feed was repeating a tsunami warning for various coastal areas, in endless loop (interspersed with Chinese, Korean, and something that might have been Portuguese). Turning to my computer, I discovered to my delight that my Internet connection was working. I probably should have relished the feeling more, because it was the last thing I would be delighted about for some time. After firing off a quick email to let my family know that there'd been an earthquake and that I was fine, I brought up some international news sites and began to read. And I saw what the whole world had been watching for the past twenty-four hours. It struck me... a tsunami in Indonesia, earthquakes in Haiti and New Zealand... appalling as these things are, there's always the knowledge in the back of your mind that they're happening in other parts of the world, in places that don't much intersect with your everyday life. But Minamisoma? I've driven through it. Iwaki? I sometimes go to the beach there. Namie? An hour's drive down the highway. I have friends, co-workers, even former students living there. I drive past road signs pointing to these places almost every single day. I soon realized that the damage from the actual earthquake was relatively minor compared to what the tsunami had wrought. Not living near the coast, I'd had no notion of how bad the situation was there. Over the next day or so, a steady stream of increasingly awful images and reports came in. Up in Miyagi Prefecture, entire towns had been washed away. Closer to home, the waves had knocked out emergency cooling systems at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power station in Okuma, about 45km away. Millions were still without power, and in many cases without even running water. The destruction of oil refineries (combined with increased demand thanks to all the emergency generators) had led to a general shortage of gasoline, making it a challenge just to get relief to where it was needed. Perhaps worst of all, the winter weather was choosing just this week to blow back in with a vengeance. As the temperature plunged and snow fell, tens of thousands of refugees were packed into draughty, uninsulated, earthquake-damaged shelters with no light, no heat, no water, limited medical supplies, the clothes on their backs, and no means of communication. With roads and bridges destroyed or flooded, it was taking rescue forces days simply to reach the worst-affected areas. My town, obviously, being just outside the disaster zone, was right on the front lines of the relief effort. I wasn't to learn this until Sunday evening, but when a 20km evacuation zone was declared for the nuclear power station late on Saturday, my town became a designated shelter area. Almost the entire town of Futaba, on the coast, was effectively relocated to impromptu local shelters. The municipal gymnasium, health centre, various public halls and almost all of the elementary schools became home to thousands of evacuees. For myself, the balance of the weekend was spent alternatively watching the news, emailing various people around the world with reassurances, and slowly cleaning up the mess in my apartment. On Sunday night, I stuck my head in at the emergency command headquarters (still at the health centre) to find out from my supervisor what I should do regarding work on Monday. My regular school visit (what were to have been my last elementary school classes of the school year) was, unsurprisingly, cancelled. After a brief discussion, it was decided that I would spend the day at the town's central elementary school (which is conveniently quite close to my apartment). Consequently, Monday morning found me there, along with the rest of the slightly frazzled staff. Most of the school was filled with evacuees; one wing had been set aside for the students. There were no proper classes, and the school day, such as it was, was only about two hours long. The main purpose of the exercise was, I gathered, to reassure the children by offering them some semblance of routine. On the surface, at least, it seemed to be working: as I wandered around from class to class, everyone appeared as boisterous and cheerful as ever. The afternoon was surprisingly peaceful, all things considered. The shelter operations were being run by municipal workers, leaving the teachers largely free to look after school concerns. We spent a few hours sorting through mountains of donated clothing for the evacuees, evidently courtesy of the students and their families. By four o'clock, however, we'd done about as much as we could, and the principal declared it a day. I stopped back in at the health centre on the way home. There was to be no school the next day, so after a quick discussion I decided to take Tuesday off. I need to do some more shopping, anyway. It was becoming clear that life would not really be back to normal for quite some time. POSTSCRIPT This (probably) concludes my diary of the earthquake and its immediate aftermath. If the continuing problems at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear plant end up affecting me directly then another instalment might follow. At the moment, however, I can add nothing in particular to the nuclear saga than what is already widely disseminated on the news. This is but one first-hand account of a small, peripheral corner of events. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of people have stories of their own, many of them far more dire. In the days and weeks to come, they will need all the help the world can give.