When does a victim become a perpetrator? That’s the question that kept coming up as we made our way across the irradiated landscape.
Many foreigners fled Japan after the tsunami triggered a meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant last March. My wife Junko Kajino and I went the opposite way, spending five months inside the U.S.-declared 50-mile no-go radius for our in-progress documentary Uncanny Terrain.
One steamy day last July, Junko Kajino and Ed M. Koziarski found themselves in Fukushima, Japan, hiding beneath a tarp in the back of a pickup truck full of cow feed. The farmer behind the wheel smuggled the filmmakers into a government-mandated 20-kilometer evacuation zone that became highly contaminated with radioactive cesium after a massive earthquake 43 miles off the city’s coast in March. The quake triggered tsunami waves that smashed into the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, causing meltdowns of three reactors.
Round, rough-skinned pears fill our Fukushima City apartment. Before the pears it was enormous, impossibly succulent peaches. Apples will be next.
Prior to the meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant six months ago, people all across Japan would send seasonal Fukushima-grown fruit to their relatives and neighbors. But now those outside Fukushima are too wary of possible radioactive contamination in produce grown here — and the fruit piles up.
The locals live with the risk. With a surplus of crops growing in the adjacent countryside, the fruits circulate in Fukushima like proverbial American fruitcakes at Christmas. We conspired to regift a box of pears to one neighbor, but they beat us to it and gave us another box. So we eat them all.
Yoshizawa at evacuated Namie's city hall-in-exile in Nihonmatsu, awaiting the results of his full-body radiation scan.
Yoshizawa displays the results of his radiation scan, which indicate he's been exposed to only .3 millisieverts since March. He's dubious of this figure, considering he was within earshot of the reactor explosion and has been returning to the evacuation zone weekly to care for his cows.
Iwaki hula girls perform at Nihonmatsu Candle Festival.
Giant dragonfly in Nihonmatsu castle park.
Bug in a well at Nihonmatsu castle.
Yoshizawa and Murata throw a barbecue to celebrate receiving half of their substantial compensation claim from Tokyo Electric Power Company for losses due to radioactive contamination of their cattle ranch.
A mother feeds her son at Yoshizawa's compensation party.
Revelers were eating this Wagyu beef raw at Yoshizawa's compensation party.
When the town of Towa was absorbed into Nihonmatsu City, they formed a nonprofit organization to preserve local culture and farming practices. A transplant from Osaka, Ebisawa is director of the group. He's been resurrecting Towa's ancient mulberry industry, and now he's running an active radiation measurement program.
You can now make a tax-deductible donation to Uncanny Terrain via our fiscal sponsor Ionia, Inc, an Alaska nonprofit dedicated to developing environmentally and agriculturally sustainable community.
Thanks to macrobiotic educator Phiya Kushi of SOS Earth for connecting us with Ionia. We are working with Phiya and web designer Pavel Dolezel to build an online community fostering international dialogue on food safety, sustainable agriculture, alternative energy, and disaster response. The site is in development, but it’s not too early to become a member and join the conversation.
This video was presented at the Institute for Strategic Leadership‘s “Carry On Fukushima” program in Tokyo on 7/21/11. It includes voices from food producers in the area around the still-leaking Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant:
Ohashi may need to look outside Fukushima now for organic suppliers for his bread. He says we need to learn to coexist with radiation.
Suzuki and Fukumoto are leaving the idyllic farming community of Kaidomari to live in balance with nature elsewhere.
Hongo won’t sell his potentially contaminated rice this year, but he’s eating it himself.
Yoshizawa wants to save his 300 irradiated dairy cows from a death sentence.
Yamamoto was a farming intern when the disaster struck. She decided to stay and volunteer at an evacuation center.
Yoshida is committed to stay and continue farming on the land his family has cultivated for 200 years.
Hidden under a tarp, wedged between 50-gallon sacks of steaming bean sprouts on a flatbed trailer, we passed unnoticed through the checkpoint into the 30km evacuation zone around the crippled Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant.
Permits to enter the zone are closely guarded and the review process is slow, so we stowed away with the evacuated dairy farmer Yoshizawa as he made his weekly trip to feed his 300 irradiated cows, which he's keeping alive in defiance of a government order.
This field in Minami-Soma is still littered with boats, four months after the tsunami.
Yoshizawa painted "save them or die trying" on the roof of the barn, the shovel of the back hoe that blocks the road to the ranch, and on signposts all along the road.
Junko Kajino interviews Yoshizawa at his ranch. The rain suits we bought as a cheaper alternative to tyvek safety suits were not a good idea in the heat and sun. We were pouring with hot sweat within minutes.
The cows were intimidated by my camera shoulder mount at first, but they became friendly very quickly.
It was 2 microsieverts per hour at this ice cream stand on the way to the evacuation zone.
After the March 11 earthquake and tsunami, Yoshizawa cared for his 300 dairy cows without water or electricity. He could hear the explosions as the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, 14 km away.
After days of heavy radiation exposure, Yoshizawa was evacuated with the rest of Namie on March 17. He spraypainted “save them or die trying” on the roof of the barn, and went to Tokyo. He talked his way in to see the chairman of Tokyo Electric Power Company. Both men cried as Yoshizawa begged the chairman to do something to stop the disaster.
Yoshizawa slept outside in Tokyo for a week, keeping vigil and waiting to see government ministers, calling on them for action. Now he travels Japan in his speaker van, proclaiming his refusal of a government order to kill his 300 cows.
Uncanny Terrain is a documentary about organic farmers facing Japan’s nuclear crisis, and an online community fostering dialogue on food safety, sustainable agriculture, alternative energy and disaster response. Please keep the conversation going by making a donation. Junko Kajino on Yoshizawa's ranch inside the evacuation zone.