On March 11th, 2011, Japan suffered the biggest earthquake in its history. The tsunami that followed was to create  the worst crisis Japan had faced since the end of WWII. One of the aftermaths of the tsunami was the Fukushima nuclear plant incident, a series of equipment failures that led to the worst nuclear disaster since Chernoyl.



The explosion and escape of nuclear waste into the sea and surrounding area four days later, on March  15th,  forced the evacuation and creation of a 20 kilometre no-go-zone around the plant. The surrounding area, still damaged from the earthquake and tsunami, was polluted by radiation and not suitable for habitation. It was even recommended by the government that a zone of 30 km around the reactor should be evacuated. This is a story about Minamisoma, deep into the  20 kilometre zone.



Arriving at Fukushima city is normal, a bullet train from Tokyo drops you off at the station in the centre of town in less than three hours. Everything seems normal in this modest and not very big Japanese northern town, 92 kilometres by car from the wrecked nuclear reactor . But walk a couple of meters and you will notice a small solar powered radiation metering station,displaying radiation levels in a eerie red counter, making the reactor feel much closer than before. Although Fukushima was affected by the fallout, the levels are, according to the government, still acceptable for living. Lay, a student from Malaysia living in Fukushima helps me explore the city. She herself worked with NGO's cleaning up the mess left behind by the tsunami. She tells me that children are not allowed to play on playgrounds and must do al theirl activities inside the schools, for fear of thyroid cancer;  that the water and food are most likely to be contaminated; and that you can find citizens measuring stations down town. The sudden realization is that the contamination left by the reactor is severe, permanent and, even worse, its effects not treatable by any means, is hard to digest. Far worse, many people think that the way the situation is been handled by official sources is too obscure, and that the incident is still not over and many other measures have to be taken regarding the reactors. The 20 kilometre no-go-zone is, for example, too small for the experts and they have advocated that it should be made bigger. If it were, a major city like Fukushima could be forced to evacuate...



After wandering the city we finally find the temporary housing we have been told about in the citizens measuring station, almost on the outskirts of the city. The houses look small but decently built; they seem even to have satellite dishes and air conditioning. The houses were built by the government when they realized that the Fukushima power plant had contaminated a large part of the coast of the Miyagi and Fukushima prefectures, and certain villages had to be evacuated and marked as uninhabitable until such level of radiation decreased. Most of the people living in these houses are elderly, their entire life having been washed away by a tsunami and the chance to return closed off  by the radiation. The feeling of intruding into a place where people might feel vulnerable because of the situation they are going through is off- putting , but once they see Lay and me, they greet us and come out of the houses. They tell us that the houses are fine and they are happy the government is taking care of them, but that the feeling of never been able to return to their own homes, is terrible, that many of them are unhappy and welcome some interest in their situation. One of the residents explains how the radiation levels were more than six times the recommended levels when he had to be moved out of his house. The language barrier is substantial, but you can feel the sadness in his voice when says he has been living here for almost two years and he wont be able to go back to his village for at least another four.

Kári, a local English teacher at the northern part of Minamisoma and a good friend of Lay's, agreed to drive me down to the no-go zone a week later. The roads up to Minamisoma from Fukushima are winding, so as we travel Kári and I talk about how the autumn transforms the region and its forests into a great sight.  Kári tells me stories of how the region has evolved after the tsunami and how the people have learned to deal with the no-go zone. The road is open to cars and people are allowed to cross the zone, work or clean the debris still remaining from the tsunami and to try and repair the houses that are still standing. There are almost no restrictions or  controls when entering the contaminated zone, only a sign with red flashing lights and a warning written in Japanese. "Who would go to a contaminated zone?" Kári asks. The sight of the place is heartbreaking, from the road and stretching almost two kilometres to the  coast there is nothing but a plain where previously houses stood. Some of them still stand along with wrecked cars and some electricity poles that managed to survive the wave. Kári drives off to work and I'm left alone in the road. I'll just walk back out of the zone and back to Fukushima. The silence is absolute, only disturbed by an occasional car driving down the road.