A Drop In the Bucket, March 29

Aomori pastors fix the pipes- water at last!

Goodby, mud!

Imagine trying to clear a building and parking lot of 4 inches of mud – with out running water.

That is where we were until today.

I was at the local building center at 8:00 sharp this morning to pick up the 50 sheets of drywall they had promised to hold for me when I got the first 50 yesterday. There is still quite a bit in the warehouse, but I don't expect that to last for long. Everyone will be after it soon. Then it was down the mountain for another day on the beautiful Iwate coast.

At the Ofunato Bible Baptist Church where we are working, I met up with two of the pastors from the Aomori team. They were going to help remove the last of the ruined drywall from the church, when water started gushing up at the corner of the building. The water was back on- and we were not ready for it. All the rest of the water sources could be, and were, turned off, but the outside tap, which had been broken off, could not. There followed a wild scramble, as we tried to bail out the flooded hole, and get the main shutoff to work. Finally, Pastor Kanno dug up the access tube and enlarged the hole enough to get a wrench on it and turn it off (we didn't have the long t-wrench plumbers use). Pastor Igarashi and I rigged a new tap, and plugged all the exposed pipes inside the building. Then we turned the water on and- success! The joints all held, the tap worked, and there were no other leaks. Just then a plumber came along, checking each building in the block for leaks. It appears they were working block by block, which explains why houses near us had water before we did. He looked a bit stern, said "Only pros are supposed to turn that valve on and off"- and left. He came back later, checked the meter briefly, and crossed us off the list. I think he was glad we took care of it ourselves.

The pastors had come mostly to help me get the 50 sheets of drywall into the church (a huge part of house building is just plain humping heavy stuff into difficult places). However, a couple of Junior High boys had happened along, and asked us if we needed help. The schools are still closed; many are shelters. The teachers have instructed them to go around and help people. So- they got to move the drywall while we messed with the water. The pastors wanted to go and check out needs in the area so they can plan for long-term assistance, so they left. The boys took their leave and went off, looking as though they wanted to get away before we thought of some other grueling job. I was left with Ms. Kumagai, the energetic church member who has been our interface and information source in the town.

Water! We had water!

How has the stress of the situation affected me? I found out today.

I hate mud.

I think Ms. Kumagai does, too. A new-found gripe; an enemy to be attacked with vigor.

Sounds good, but we were getting pretty bushed by the time we got half the parking lot done (note: this is a rural Japanese church: 4 members, one space for each. It is not an American church with a parking lot the size of a Japanese farm). Then- 4 Junior High girls walked down the street. They too were looking for people to help ( theoretically: I must admit, it looked a lot like 4 girls walking down the street having a good time). They spotted me, stopped in their tracks, and yelled "Gaijin!" (foreigner!- not very PC, but, you get used to it).

This was a window of opportunity. I addressed them in English, and they just couldn't resist coming closer for a look. The upshot was that, 2 minutes later they were washing down the parking lot.

They worked very happily, asking how to say this and that in English. They seemed very carefree and lighthearted. We sat down to take a break, and I asked, "How are you doing? Are your houses okay?

The boldest, most talkative one piped up. "Nope, my house is gone. I'm in a shelter."

The other one decided to try English. "My car- go river."

Another added, "We don't know where our car is".

But, none of them had lost family, or classmates (as the tsunami came before the children returned from school, many were spared because most of the schools were on high ground).

"Some of our classmates lost their parents." One said, calmly.

Another added, "Yeah, and there was that school where the parents all went in the car to get their kids, got in a traffic jam, and died when the ripple came."

"Did you hear the story of the boy in Omoto who went into town as soon as class was over to get chocolate for his girlfriend, and got caught in the ripple?" (they were calling the tsunami a rippuru, Japanese pronunciation for ripple? Or, riptide?).

I was getting a bit uncomfortable. It was as though they were talking about something they saw on TV, not something that had devastated their town 2 weeks before. These were 13 and 14 year old girls. The break ended, and they went back to work, chattering and joking as before. Iwate people are famous for their stoicism, but I think this must be something else. The girls finished the parking lot and the street in front of the church, and left. It was down to Ms. Kumagai and I again. Then a van pulled up; a pastor and friends from Aichi Ken (near Nagoya).

"How are you doing? Do you need anything?"

Why be shy?

"Insulation", I said. "Forty-five tsubo of 16 kilogram insulation."

One of them dutifully made notes on his hand. Good luck. It appears there is no insulation to be had in the country, and that is from before the tsunami (please do not offer to send insulation from overseas- 16 inch insulation does not fit in a 45 centimeter space).

"Do you need gas? We brought gas."

"I don't, but Ms. Kumagai might."

Ms. Kumagai did- she was very happy to receive 25 liters of gas in a shiny new red can. I have a relief vehicle pass, so I get preference at the pumps. The locals still face long lines here- if gas is available at all.

The visitors pulled out to go to the next church on their list, and I showed Ms. Kumagai how to operate a gas can. It was a new experience for her. We are all having a lot of new experiences. I showed her how to start the generator, too. We had fired it up to operate her vacuum cleaner, to clean sand out of the window rails. Martin had taken the frames from the large windows (6 in total) to Itayanagi when he went home for the weekend. He has a friend who owns a glass shop. We took down the tarp from the window. What a joy to have lots of light; to be able to see out; to be free of the crippled look of a building with tarped windows. The neighbors drifted over.

"Wow- glass. That was fast. Where did you get glass?" No gas to travel, no money to pay, everyone buying up the same things at the same time. There are going to be a lot of tarped or plywooded windows here for while yet.

Armin Messer, our colleague from Kanagi (Aomori) came with Martin today. Ms. Kumagai had taken him around the neighborhood looking for people to help. He trucked mud out of a nearby English tutor's school, and came back "dirty as a pig and happy as a skunk". He grabbed the hose and started washing his shovels and wheelbarrow. It was then I had the revelation. Maybe the stress is getting to me. I hate mud.

"ARMIN. DON'T WASH YOUR DIRTY WHEELBARROW ON OUR CLEAN STREET."

Not surprisingly, Armin was surprised. Compared to the mess he had been wading through, the bit he had dumped on my antiseptic asphalt was inconsequential. I didn't see it that way.

"DON"T TAKE THAT THING INTO THE CHURCH THAT WAY. YOU MISSED A SPOT RIGHT THERE."

Now Armin was amused. I must have started to sound like his mother on bath night.

But, hey. Work all day in a mess so bad there is no place to sit down, no place to set anything; a mess that leaps gaps and gets on anything clean; a mess that grinds into your hands so your fresh washed ones look like the dirtiest hands most people ever get.

You would hate mud, too.

It is everywhere in the zone. Take the drywall off- there it is, on every horizontal surface, sometimes a half inch thick. Inside the wall. Take out the bathroom vanity. Wash it. Wash it again. Turn it over, spray from every angle, spray it again. Then bump it, and a glob of mud falls off some surface so hidden the manufacturer doesn't know it's there.

You would hate mud, too.

Look down the street. Mud. Today, the sun was out. The temperature is up. The ground is drying. And, the mud is taking to the air on the strong spring winds- powdered mud, sifting down to cover everything you just washed.

This is life on the beautiful Iwate coast. What are we doing here? It is just a drop in the bucket.

But, enough drops will fill the biggest bucket.

What are you doing? Praying? Giving? Doing your job in difficult circumstances? You are not here, but you are here. We are all drops in this bucket, if we are doing our part to get this place back on it's feet.

Look out, mud. Here come God's drops.