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OTSUCHI, Japan, March 5: In a hilltop garden, under the broad branches of a cherry tree, a white phone booth glows in the early spring light.
Inside, Kazuyoshi Sasaki carefully dials his late wife Miwako’s cell phone number, bending over his large frame and holding the handset.
He explains how he searched for her for days after the devastating earthquake and tsunami a decade ago, visiting evacuation centers and makeshift morgues, returning at night to the rubble of her home.
“It all happened in an instant, I can’t forget it even now,” she says through tears. “I sent you a message telling you where it was, but you didn’t check it.”
“When I came back to the house and looked up at the sky, there were thousands of stars, it was like looking at a jewelry box,” says the 67-year-old man. “I cried and cried and knew then that so many people must have died.”
Sasaki’s wife was one of nearly 20,000 people in northeastern Japan killed in the disaster that occurred on March 11, 2011.
Many survivors say that the disconnected phone line in the city of Otsuchi helps them stay in touch with loved ones and provides some comfort as they deal with their grief.
I am alone
Earlier in the day, Sachiko Okawa calls Toichiro, her late husband who she was married to for 44 years. She asks him what he’s been doing with his days since he was washed away by the tsunami a decade ago.
“I feel lonely,” she finally says, her voice cracking, and asks Toichiro to take care of her family. “Bye for now, I’ll be back soon.”
Okawa says that sometimes he feels like he can hear Toichiro on the other end of the line.
“It makes me feel a little better.”
The 76-year-old, who learned about the hillside garden from friends, often brings her two grandchildren here so they can talk to her grandfather as well.
“Grandpa, it’s been 10 years and I’ll be in high school soon,” says Daina, Okawa’s 12-year-old grandson, as everyone squeezes into the phone booth. “There is a new virus that is killing many people and that is why we wear masks. But we are all doing well. “
Wind phone
The phone booth was built by Itaru Sasaki, owner of the garden in Otsuchi, a city about 500 km (310 miles) northeast of Tokyo, a few months before the disaster, after he lost his cousin to cancer.
“There are many people who have not been able to say goodbye,” he says. “There are families who wish they had said something at the end, if they had known that they would not speak again.”
The phone now attracts thousands of visitors from all over Japan. It is not only used by tsunami survivors, but also by people who have lost family members to illness and suicide. Nicknamed “the wind phone”, it recently inspired a movie.
A few months ago, Sasaki says he was approached by organizers who wanted to install similar phones in Britain and Poland that would allow people to call family members they had lost in the coronavirus pandemic.
“Like a disaster, the pandemic occurred suddenly and when a death is sudden, the pain a family experiences is also much greater,” says the 76-year-old man.
I’m so glad we met
Like thousands of people in devastated coastal communities, Kazuyoshi Sasaki, the councilor, lost not only his wife but many other relatives and friends in the disaster.
He had known and loved Miwako for most of his life.
He first confessed his love to her when they were both in high school, an offer that she quickly declined. It took another 10 years for the two to start dating. Eventually they married and had four children.
Sasaki explains to his wife that he recently moved from temporary housing and that their youngest son is now building a new house where he can live with his grandchildren.
Before hanging up, Sasaki tells Miwako that a recent medical check-up showed that she had lost weight.
“I’ll take care of myself,” he promises as a strong wind blows outside. “I’m so glad we met, thank you, we are all doing what we can, we will speak soon.” – Reuters
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