akitahanabi summer issue 2011

Want to contribute? Please email ‘editor.hanabi@gmail.com’

for more information

Hanabi

Summer

2011

From The EditorMichael Cullinane

The Catfish And The Fail WhaleAmanda Power

TestimonialsMelissa Dawe, Melissa Noad

Angels and Davies, or Renaud in ExilePat Costello

Helping Out, One Banana at a TimePaul Yoo

HaikyoPat Costello

Say Hello, Wave GoodbyeSebastian Young

HANABI STAFF

EDITORmichael cullinane

ILLUSTRATORSmae wkpmichael sammler

LAYOUTsebastian young

PRINTINGcasey kuesterrenaud davies

Hanabi is set in the Museo and Omnes font families.

Want to contribute?akitahanabi@gmail.com

As this is the final issue of the Hanabi for the year, I first want to thank the people that have done such a great job this year. Michael Sammler, Ryan Bailey, and I will be returning home and handing the reigns over to Mae WKP and Sebastian Young. Michael and Ryan were fundamental in both keeping the Hanabi running smoothly (or as smoothly as possible) and in creating an amazing new layout. Hopefully your contributions will continue to make the Hanabi something special for the ALT community.

Instead of focusing on a location for our Summer Issue, we decided to focus on the recent tragedy. The Akita community has responded so positively in the wake of the March 11th earthquake and tsunami, that it seemed important to document some of the stories. Though we didn’t get the quantity of stories we were hoping for, the ones we did receive reflect how much the earthquake touched our lives, and how much many have done to contribute to the rebuilding of Japan.

I’ve had a great time this year as Editor of the Hanabi, and I hope the stories shared in its pages have reflected the wide-variety of experiences our community has had. Good luck to everyone in the future.

Michael Cullinane.

From The Editor

Q: How does a catfish get blamed for one of the worst earthquakes in Japanese history?

A: With a lot of bad publicity from ukiyo-e (woodblock cut) artists.

In a country so rich in myths and legends, nothing shows the spread of a good story better than the history of Namazu the earthquake catfish.

The 1855 Ansei-Edo earthquake left 7,000 people dead and much of Edo in ruin. The disaster created a niche for political editorials, artistic reaction to tragedy, and a bit of much-needed humour. So naturally, the ukiyo-e artists of the era decided to blame the quake on a monstrous catfish to sell more prints. (Giant monsters and thinly veiled social commentary make a profitable combination, as the Toho movie company would discover 100 years later.)

These woodcuts depicted an enormous catfish, Namazu, chained under a rock deep beneath the earth, while the god Kashima kept a close watch. When Kashima ducked out for the weekend and left a drunken Ebisu to cover for him,

Namazu's thrashing caused the catastrophic earthquake. Not a myth so much as a meme that took on a life of its own.

It took two days for the first namazu-e woodcuts to start making the rounds in earthquake-ravaged Edo. (My favourite picture: Kashima forcing some guilty catfish to apologize to all the hardworking prostitutes they put out of business.) If the Internet had existed back when Kashima took his ill-timed nenkyuu, one suspects it would have taken five minutes for #catfish to be trending on Twitter.

In 2011, the biggest quake in Japan's history comes along. It's a disaster and a tragedy on an unfathomable scale. Yet technology keeps us connected through it all. Letting the world know what's happening is just a matter of pressing buttons. Skip the trolls and celebrity death rumours (no, Internet, the creators of Pokémon and Hello Kitty are not dead), and it's as good as a lifeline.

Technology defined the days in the quake's aftermath. It takes a disaster to make you realize the only contacts you have in Japan are keitai numbers, and that the JLPT4 is not enough to decipher a fuzzy Japanese newscast. My first real tsunami news came from a friend in the U.S. texting my phone. I could make sure that the first thing my parents saw were "I'm okay" messages on my mom's Blackberry, not the horrific tsunami images on CNN. My brother must have spent two hours on the phone reading out news feeds, Googling up disaster information, telling me that #tsunami and #godzilla were trending about equally, and doing everything else I didn't have the spare keitai battery to check myself.

Disaster response is one of the times when social media proves itself good for more than just attention seeking and LOLcats. 150 years after namazu-e woodcuts personified a quake with a meme, the story of a tragedy is now told by the endless stream of videos and tweets and blog posts and Facebook updates that make it out into the world. Whether it's news, reactions, support, rumours, or artists coming together to fundraise with anime characters fighting off leviathan-sized wave monsters (and a few catfish).... The reaction to tragedy is out there–the best and the worst of it—and now it's global.

After March 11th, my instinct was to reach across the ocean to deal with a disaster happening next door. All that social reaction to tragedy was what made it possible. It's a spectacle, it's news, it's communication, and it's all out there as long as we have the smallest connection to the outside world. When you can tap into that stream of consciousness just enough to stop asking “what's going on?”.... That makes it a little easier to be alone in the dark with the earthquake catfish thrashing.

Amanda Power

The Catfish And The Fail Whale

akitahanabi summer 2011; 4

TestimonialsBeauty Amongst Tragedy

When I first moved to Japan, one of the things that struck me the most was how giving the people here were. Upon my arrival, I had many offer their assistance, or stop by to check on me. Never was I reminded more of the kindness I first witnessed here three years ago than during the earthquakes in March.!For many people, that month was a time of fear, uncertainty, and struggle. Yet it was also a time of sharing, compassion, and togetherness. Though things at times seemed to be at their worst, people still tried their best. That's what

this experience has been like for me: a series of contrasts.!Standing in Kesennuma and looking around at what!were once houses, I remember thinking just how green the!surrounding mountains were so early in Spring. It is just another lesson that my time in Japan has taught me, something that I will take away with me and try to never forget - that even when faced with tragedy, there can still be beauty.!

Melissa Dawe.

Disaster Lessons

Teaching about our experiences in Miyako and Kesennuma was honestly a little bit strange at first. I started off feeling odd that I am a foreigner teaching Japanese students about a disaster in their own country, unsure about how they would feel about the footage we took. I was a nervous wreck when the regular jovial class went dead silent during the more bleak parts of the film, frightened that I was making students uncomfortable. To break the silence after the film, I asked, “So...does anyone have any questions or comments about volunteering, or Kesennuma,

or...anything?” “Was it difficult?”“Do you plan to

go back?”“Those people

are smiling!”“Your

presentation was inspirational.”

“I want to volunteer.”I was a little shy to talk

about our experiences with my JTEs at first but I am

definitely glad that I did. They quickly came up with the idea to share information with our students, and it opened their eyes to the fact that they actually can help in a variety of ways. Some of the best advice I can give is to not be silent about what you have experienced.

Melissa Noad.

akitahanabi summer 2011; 5

I WALK INTO SCHOOL on normal day of work at Ugo Junior High school. I go to my locker to put away my things and inside there is an envelope with my name hastily scribbled on it. I open the envelope and inside is a note that says “pull the ribbon.” I look up and there right in front of my face is a red ribbon, leading into the wall. The ribbon flies out of the wall with a key attached to the end. I examine the key and find that it goes to a locker in Ueno station. I look back at the note and notice the writing on the back. “You need to help me.”

Something tells me this is urgent and I need to go to Ueno station in Tokyo and open this locker. I run into the office and tell my kyoto sensei I have a family emergency, and I need to return home at once. He calls the BoE, and within the hour I’ll be on my way to Tokyo. I catch a taxi to the station and set off for Ueno, becoming more and more paranoid as the moments pass. Whilst on the Tokyo-bound shinkansen I get a barrage of texts and phone calls asking if I know where Renaud is. No one seems to be able to find him. I somehow know that Renaud is the one that left me the key, and that he is in great danger. I keep up the ruse that I’ve had a family emergency. While making fake frantic phone calls, I try to appear concerned I get off in Ueno and decide I need to check and make sure I’m not being followed. I open a station locker and act like I’m looking around suspiciously before placing some old receipts from my pocket in the locker and taking off. I circle back after a few

minutes and see that the locker had been ripped open. I need to lose my shadow. I realize how hard this would be if I were still in Akita. Renaud was smart to make me come to Tokyo, more foreigners to blend in with. I run into the nearest Lawson. I buy a razor, shaving cream, and a mask. “Of course!” I think “An Onsen!”. If they’re Yakuza, tattoos will keep them out, and it’s

really hard to hide a weapon when you’re nude, at least comfortably. I

rip the usual locker key off the little bracelet they give me and attach the Ueno locker key, no

one notices. I shave my beard and head. I change into some extra clothes, put on the mask and some sunglasses that came out of nowhere and head back to the locker in Ueno. Hopefully my ruse will work.

I open the locker in Ueno station. Inside is a box and a letter. I open the box first and there is what looks like a bishop piece from a very old chess set, but it’s slightly different. There is a crescent moon on the top of the piece as opposed to a sphere.

I look to the letter for an answer. The letter details (in more words than I have here) that this is the last remaining proof of a massive church cover-up. The chess game we know has six types of pieces. However, there used to be seven. This is the missing 7th piece, the “mad bishop”, the only surviving proof the piece existed besides unconfirmed whispers between conspiracy theorists, and for some reason the oral lore of pirates. The piece was banned by the church during the crusades because it reflected poorly on the corrupt church system, and the crescent moon on the top was reminiscent of Muslim iconography. The note continues, giving me the address of a museum curator in New York I am to take the piece to, so that the world will finally know the truth. Renaud has not been so lucky. He has been forced to go into exile in Bali to avoid the church-hired Catholic ninjas that have been hunting him, and to a lesser extent me, in Japan. I head off for New York, having successfully escaped… for now. PAT COSTELLO.

Stay tuned for Episode 3: Two Celions and a Funeral, or The Fast and the Fukushima.

Episode 2: Angels and Davies,

Or Renaud in Exile

akitahanabi summer 2011; 6

The March 11 earthquake and tsunami are things none of us will ever forget. In life, we remember specific experiences by the direct e!ect they have on our lives. For me, this experience was just that. These past months have been a whirlwind of emotions, but in the end I know I have grown from this. Living in Akita, I don't think anyone can disagree with how fortunate we were in terms of the earthquake's aftermath. It's hard to grasp how close we are to all of the devastation, and that is something that hits me hard every time I drive out east. Having said that, it also means we are in the perfect position to help,

which is why volunteerAKITA was created.

Right after the tsunami, it was especially frustrating being so close but feeling like we couldn't help. With patience and taking the appropriate steps, we were able to head in with a huge load of relief supplies collected from the people and ALTs of Akita . That trip really set the foundation for volunteerAKITA and it became

clear that our e!orts could not/would not stop there. Seeing all the devastation for the first time is such a surreal experience. From the start, all of us were all being fed thousands of images through all sorts of media outlets, but when you are actually down there in the thick of it, the experience

just becomes so REAL. All it took was that first trip to know that we had to keep helping and had to act fast. By the end of that weekend, the plans and groundwork for “The Fruit Tree Project” were set. Eventually, we met

“even a small

group of

individuals like

us, can make a

HUGE impact”

Helping Out, One Banana

at a Time

Paul Yoo

akitahanabi summer 2011; 7

with the Kesennuma VC about volunteering opportunities. Since that first weekend, there's been no turning back. To date, “The Fruit Tree Project” has raised ￥1,184,742 and has

delivered ~29,564 items of fresh fruit, while "the BIG CLEAN” has logged ~763 hours of volunteering in Miyako, Iwate and Kesennuma, Miyagi.

The amazing thing about this whole experience has been the overwhelming support we received from all over the world! Looking back, there are so many influential people that really made this all happen for us, and not a day goes by where I don't feel grateful for everything that everyone is doing for volunteerAKITA and all that we are involved in. Most importantly, right now is the amazing group of individuals who are working tirelessly to make volunteerAKITA run smoothly and e!ectively. It's truly been a blessing from day one. The skill set it takes to make an organization function properly is something I for one don't have! So it's amazing to see so many extremely talented people taking lead and stepping up to make these things possible. It is our goal right now to motivate and empower as many people as possible, because we need to show everyone that even a small group of individuals like us, can make a HUGE impact on the lives of so many hurting in this time of need.

On a personal level, these past few months have been life-changing for me. Connecting with the people and seeing firsthand what the situation is like in these areas right now is truly a humbling experience, and really puts into prospective how fortunate we are in Akita. For me, getting involved in the relief e!orts isn't something I feel is the "right" thing to do, but instead something I MUST do. Looking back on my own life experiences, there were definitely times when people helped my family out and really came through for us in times of need. Though those times are now a distant past, it has always had a profound impact on

how I was raised and how I have chosen to live my life today. I am a strong believer in the importance of community and we should always work our hardest to better the communities we live in while always showing compassion and love for our neighbors.

It's heartbreaking to think about the thousands of people who have been a!ected by this disaster. Everyday there are people who are fighting harder than we could ever imagine, surviving these hard times and pushing forward to brighter days. These are the people I think about every day, and these are the people that keep me motivated to do MORE. Fortunately for us, many like minded people in the Akita community share these values, which is why volunteerAKITA has become everything it is today and has accomplished as much as it has. It has been amazing to see everyone working so hard together, and the biggest heartfelt thanks goes to the AMAZING community we have up here in Akita. In the end, we are just a small organization full of highly motivated individuals with big hearts, trying our best to make a di!erence. Right now, fixing all the problems Tohoku faces, is near impossible, but does that mean we shouldn't try?

ABSOLUTELY NOT. Paul Yoo.

akitahanabi summer 2011; 8

At the end of a winding, unkempt road, at the top of a lonely hill, lies a forgotten memorial; overgrown with foliage, cracked with years of neglect and harsh sub-tropical weather; speckled with hawks’ nests, and covered in a shroud of dust and broken glass. Although its once impressive and beautiful curved spire still looms over the trees and brush, it now goes mostly unnoticed. It had the unfortunate luck of being built in a part of Japan so remote and ravaged by decline, that visitors are rare, and

developers, even more so. Its true purpose was as a memorial to students who gave their lives in World War Two. Just in front of the giant spire an eternal flame once burned, but was extinguished decades ago. A rusty plaque on the side of a nearby stone wall tells us that it was lit “to mourn the loss of these students who were never given the chance to return to their studies.” The developers also chose to put a nice hotel right next to the main memorial building, and why not? The views of Hyogo Bay and the rocky shores of Tokushima are fabulous. The hotel also lies in ruins; not so much because of nature and weather, but from vandalism. This memorial’s grand art-deco style spire was what did it in. Being visible from the road means it draws people in, and when no one is around people break stu!.

There are places like this all over Japan; built any time from the 40’s up through the early 90’s when the economy seemed to be unstoppable, and money flowed like a broken garden spigot that no

one seemed to remember was on. But then the bubble burst. Companies, people, banks, and entire communities alike went under. The economy shrivelled up and people no longer had the money or the impetus to visit the overly-grandiose Russian Village, or the seemingly pointless Volcano Museum, or the National Snake Research Center Museum. The exhibits were closed and the buildings locked until there was enough money to reopen. The mines became too expensive to mine, or ran dry, and the workers and their families were escorted out of the subsidized housing the company provided. Most

of all, no one had the money to stay at a tiny hotel at the

top of a mountain in a secluded part of a

secluded island next to a

memorial/museum that went bust.

These are not dead places though. Abandoned, perhaps, but

not dead. They are being

reclaimed by nature, slowly but

surely. Trees and weeds burst out of cracks

in masonry and vines choke the skylights and window frames. Water invades basements, forming standing pools, and animals roam and nest about the skeletons of the buildings. Pardon me, I must slightly correct my previous statement. Some people still do have the impetus to visit these places, but not despite their current condition; rather, specifically because of it. Places like this are called Haikyo (廃墟), a Japanese noun meaning

“ruins”.

廃墟

Haikyo

Pat Costello

akitahanabi summer 2011; 9

However this word now has a meaning closer to a verb, most easily translated as “urban exploration.”

Some might say that visiting Haikyo is trespassing, reckless endangerment, and disrespect to the owners of the property. These are fair arguments. However, due to the risk of rampant vandalism the haikyo community chooses to stay underground. They enthusiasts have a strict motto: “Take only pictures; Leave only footprints.” They never reveal locations and they are very careful. They wear military grade boots, bring proper safety gear, masks and respirators, and they never go alone. For them thrill isn’t really in the exploring of abandoned, crumbling, and run-down places, or smashing walls and possessions, and trashing hotels. No, the entire enjoyment for them is in seeing the “everything is gonna be great forever”-past caught in a gradually yellowing freeze-frame. I’ve read accounts and seen pictures of doctors’ o"ces, museums, hospitals, amusement parks, hotels, and mining communities neither touched nor looked upon by humans in decades; everything still in its place. Pots in the dish drain, suits still on hangers in the closet, game cartridges left in the famicom, tools and chemicals placed meticulously in their proper spot, guest log still open at the check-in desk, and soft music still playing over crumbling speakers for tourists that don’t come.

Something is di!erent though, it’s hard to say what would give a children’s toy, a piece of furniture, or a stack of papers a mournful quality. Perhaps it’s the layers of dust, perhaps it’s the greenish tint from the vines growing on the windows or maybe it’s the slightly brownish gray color on everything from mold and water damage. The logical part of my mind tells me it can’t be anything else.

The haikyo, destroyed by vandalism unfortunately, will soon be replaced 10 fold in the wake of the recent earthquake/tsunami/nuclear disaster, and as the economy continues its downward slump. Entire communities and towns in Fukushima, Miyagi, and Iwate will stand as a tragic still life; reminding us both what things

were like up until March 10th, and of the tragic results of these terrible disasters.

Those in Japan who visit haikyo must research and learn the story of the place to be able to find them. Doing so makes it much more personal, almost like reading a historical novel, then going to visit the real-life setting. Very few of these places have happy endings, some are quite tragic, some are

said to be haunted. As more and more people’s material lives become haikyo even though the people, the lives they lived, and the impact they had on the world may be forgotten, or never known, there are those that would seek out and find beauty in these places. In my mind that does something to assuage the grief and sadness befallen these places and elevates them higher than the somewhat base and emotionally devoid label of 廃墟.

*Keep in mind these are abandoned and potentially (read: most certainly) dangerous buildings, which are filled with crumbling structures, rusty metal, and hazardous materials, not to mention that entrance onto these properties may or may not be really illegal. Some may be patrolled by guards and some might be protected with cameras. Breaking a window, or moving a board to get in could be considered breaking an entering. Leaving anything behind is criminal, taking anything with you is criminal, and lighting a fire to cook food could be considered arson. Entrance onto some of them, like the old American Military compounds, might get you deported. I do not recommend anyone do this, ever. Those who take part in this take every necessary precaution, and usually inquire about how to legally enter these properties… but not always.

Pat.

“Take only pictures; Leave only footprints.”

akit

ahan

abi s

um

mer

201

1; 1

0

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

Firstly I want to extend my thanks to the outgoing members of the Hanabi team, without whose hard work, the Hanabi wouldn’t get made. I also want to say huge thank you to all the people who have contributed content to the Hanabi over the year. In the literal sense, Hanabi is you, we just stick it all together!

And so with Michael Cullinane, Michael Sammler and Ryan Bailey leaving this summer, it feels a little like Hanabi is at a crossroads. I think everyone can agree that the zine has come forward leaps and bounds over the last 12 months. We are now looking to take Hanabi forward even further in order to make it a better, larger, platform of your work. What we need right now is your help.

We want to know what YOU want to be included in the Hanabi. Have you written something you would like to appear in Hanabi? Have you got a great photo you want to show o!? Or maybe you’ve got some great artwork just aching to see the light of day? As it’s title suggests, Hanabi is a ‘creative arts zine’, so anything you have to showcase will find it’s place in an issue.

We’re also looking for creative people interested in joining the Hanabi team. What we need are artists, editors, layout specialists and web designers to help

take this great quarterly zine to the next level. If this sounds like your cup of tea and you’re

interested, please send us an email to ‘editor.hanabi@gmail.com’ for more

information.

And remember, as previous ALTs will attest, involvement with Hanabi can and has been used to support applications toward graduate schools and future employment opportunities.

Sebastian Young