Music makes the world go 'round

Sitting on the plane bound for O-town, I was flipping through a fresh copy of the Globe and Mail while a movie played on my personal television monitor. In "The King's Speech," Colin Firth's character was able to temporarily overcome his stutter while reciting Hamlet's soliloquy.

The cure? His doctor blared classical music into his headphones, so that he wasn't self-conscious when attempting to do some public speaking.

The song happened to be a popular piece from Mozart. Give it a listen here. And it just so happens this is the exact musical cue that my junior high school used every day. When this song played over the P.A. system, everyone dropped what they were doing for cleaning time. I'd try to clean with a different homeroom every day. I'd "clean" by sweeping the dust bunnies away and moving a few students' desks around.

I remember when T-kun to moonwalk while sweeping the floor. He learned his moves during P.E. with M-sensei. I remember the adorable second-grader at elementary school, who insisted on holding my hand for the entire 15 minutes we had to wipe down the dust from his classroom's bookshelves. At Iwane ES, little Tsubasa-kun would ask me tons of questions in English only. It was pretty impressive, considering he is about nine years old but speaks better than my 15-year-olds. T-kun's classmates giggled, probably in wonder that Tsubasa could hold down some decent conservations with me. "Gemma-sensei, what subject do you like? What is your favourite food? Do you have a boyfriend? My brother is going to kindergarten next year. Yada, yada yada."

I'm also thinking in the "past tense," because things in Fuku will never be the same. While the communities are trying to regain a sense of normalcy at school, school life is different. My JHS kids are even stuck studying at a local community centre, because our old building has been deemed unsafe after the earthquake. It didn't collapse, thank goodness. The building, however, is covered in destructive cracks. The ceiling tiles were collapsing. The sliding doors and window of most classrooms popped out. The building itself is such an important part of the neighbourhood. This is where the kids would spend the majority of their time, week in and week out. After classes, they'd spend hours after school and even on weekends at club activities. And now, the school is crumbling. But fortunately, I've read a recent newsletter that explains we should be returning to 2chu by this June. Talk about a massive "cleaning time."

It's funny how a music clip on my journey back to Ottawa, reminded me of my second home on the other side of the world...

An outsider looking in

From Reuters:

"Bangkok-based photographer Damir Sagolj

"What fascinates me is the way ordinary Japanese are reacting to this catastrophe. After all the tragedies I have covered in my career, I must say that this one is very special: no looting, no fight for food, fuel or place in shelters (though they need them, it is cold and they are hungry). They wait in lines that are kilometres long for fuel as if they are on a promenade and will chat with others while waiting for ice cream. I panic when my vehicle has only half of tank! The other day in one of the shelters a woman returned a piece of clothing she received earlier from aid workers. The jacket was too big for her daughter and she folded it back and returned to the distribution centre. She could have kept it and maybe sell or exchange it for something else she needs. But, not in Japan; it’s fascinating, the order and discipline of people experiencing the worst days of their lives. There are no tears and no screaming in front of our lenses, just a silent grief. I don't know where this calmness comes from. What in their culture or history makes them so special? I don't even know is it good or bad. Can they really process all the sorrow without venting it with tears? I'm so impressed by their behavior and power to stay cool in such a situation that it feels really stupid to write how cold I was sleeping outside while covering this story. Or to talk about whatever happens or will happen while here, before boarding planes to take us back to the comfort of our homes.”

バンコク支局カメラマン　Damir Sagolj 普通の日本人がこの大惨事に対処する様子に興味を持った。これまでいろいろ悲劇的な出来事を取材してきたけれど、今回はまったく特別だと言うほかない。略奪はないし食料や燃料や避難所での居場所　をめぐる争いもない。みんな寒くて空腹であるにもかかわらずだ。この人たちは燃料を手に入れるために数キロもの列をつくって待っている。まるで遊歩道でおしゃべりしながらアイスクリームを買うために並んでいるかのように。 私はといえば車のガソリンが半分しかないことでパニックになる！ ある日のことだ。ひとりの女性が避難所で服を返していた。前に受け取ったその上着は自分の娘には大き過ぎたのだという。きちんと折り畳んであった。彼女はその服を取っておいて後で売ったり、別のものと交換したりすることもできたはずだ。しかしこの国は違う。人生で最悪の時期にいる人たちが持つ秩序と規律、そういうものに私は引きつけられる。 私たちのカメラのレンズの前で涙を流したり、泣き叫んだりする様子は見られない。そこにはただ静かな悲しみがあるだけだ。この穏やかさがどこから来るのか私には分からない。日本の文化や歴史の何が日本人を特別なものにしているのだろうか。わたしにはそれが良いことなのか悪いことなのかも分からない。彼らはこの悲しみをすべて涙と一緒に洗い流すことなく乗り越えていけるのだろうか。 こんな状況で冷静さを保っている被災者たちの態度と力に心を打たれたので、今回の取材で外で寝ることになって、どれほど寒かったかについて書くことがまったくばかばかしく思えてきた。ここにいる間に起きたことやこれから起きるであろうことを暖かいわが家に帰るための飛行機に乗る前に語ることも."