Loss of innocent life is always sad and tragic. Yet it is easy to feel detached from a situation when reading about it. Seeing it with your own eyes is something else entirely.
Before visiting the site of Okawa Elementary School in Ishinomaki, which was ravaged by the 2011 East Japan Earthquake and tsunami, I thought I was prepared for what I was walking into. I knew that there had been a magnitude 9.0 earthquake- Japan’s largest ever recorded- which had displaced an enormous amount of water. I knew that the resulting tsunami had ravaged much of Japan’s east coast, including Ishinomaki, where Okawa Elementary is located. I knew that the great wave had made its way up the Kitakami river where it crashed down upon the school two miles inland. And I knew that 74 of the 78 children present that day had perished when the wall of black water came for them, as well as 10 of the 11 teachers.
However, what I didn’t know was that I would feel such raw sadness when visiting this place.
When we arrived at the site of the Okawa Elementary School, I immediately noticed the barren landscape. The school was located in a flat river plane, surrounded by farmland and wooded hills. It seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Nothing remained of the community that had once been there. The school itself was just a skeleton- the warped remains of what used to be a place brimming with life. A memorial had been constructed at the front entrance and flowers had been planted throughout the grounds. I was overcome with a feeling of melancholy.
We were met with a guide who was there to tell the story of how he lost his sixth grade daughter eight years ago at Okawa Elementary. The day that the tragedy occurred, he was at a school some distance away, where he was a teacher. After the initial earthquake, our guide explained that he and the other faculty at his school immediately evacuated their students to higher ground. There, he watched as the town below was mercilessly destroyed by the incoming tsunami. Meanwhile, at Okawa Elementary School, his daughter and the other students were evacuated to the school grounds where they waited as the teachers debated what to do. A whole 51 minutes passed between the earthquake and tsunami- plenty of time for the children and teachers to escape to safety. However the teachers were indecisive about what to do, and it cost them. Some of the students ran towards the hill that was directly behind the school, trying to get to high ground. However, they were scolded and told to come back down. Eventually it was determined that they would head towards the bridge a short distance away. Little did they know, the tsunami had come roaring down the river, bringing with it debris which piled up against the bridge and created a dam. Because of this, the water got backed up and diverted towards the direction of the school. The students were running right towards the danger; they didn’t stand a chance.
“Why did they not take appropriate action?” our guide asked rhetorically. “Why?” I wondered the same thing.
He then took us to the wooded hill right behind the school, where the students often did class activities each year. There was a path that led up towards a lookout point, and along the way there was a little white marker. This marked the height that the tsunami reached. It was a short walk- only about three minutes from the classroom buildings- and easily accessible. As I stood at the elevation of the marker and looked back down over the school grounds, a wave of sadness washed over me. If they had only reached that point- the point where I was standing- they would have been safe. They would have lived. In that moment, the 74 children and 10 teachers who lost their lives became more than just a number.
Our guide left us with an important message: we should never forget what happened at Okawa Elementary and we should learn from our mistakes in order to prevent this from happening again. “Mountains don’t save lives,” he said. “Action does.”