The Power of Hula to Uplift Japan

It’s wonderful when I can find a way to tie together Hawaii and Japan in the same post, even better when I can work in a hula theme during this wonderful time of year in Hawaii that we call “Merrie Monarch week”.

For readers who aren’t aware, Hawaiian culture is booming in Japan, especially hula. According to Hawaii Tourism Japan, over 400,000 people in Japan are studying hula. That’s an incredible number, more than the total number of hula dancers in all of Hawaii they say.

But as you might imagine, in the last month not much hula dancing was happening in Eastern Japan, certainly not Iwaki City.

And yet twenty nine very resilient Japanese ladies from Iwaki are already back practicing their passion. This is incredible in light of what they’ve gone through. I could try describing what happened to their city, but this clip says it better than I ever could:

For the geographically challenged, Iwaki is in the southern part of Fukushima.

To get a feel for the scale of the town, it’s the 10th largest city in Japan with a population just shy of 350,000 people. And as you saw in the video above, it took some serious hits from the disaster.

But these hula dancers–many who lost their homes in the tsunami–refuse to let a disaster stop them from dancing. They already have plans to re-start hula lessons in a facility on the premise of a local hot-springs resort called, appropriately, “Spa Resort Hawaiians”.

But before doing so, they are going to take their hula show on the road. Their objective: inspire the rest of Japan with the power of hula!

As you might expect from the Japanese work ethic and attention to detail, the ladies are working hard to do the hula tradition proud. The leader of the hula group, Yukari Kato, summed up the goal of the tour: “we want to tap into the power of dance and inspire the rest of Japan by showing that Iwaki City is working hard, in high spirits and smiling.”

The power of hula–and the power of Japanese women–never cease to amaze and inspire me. These ladies have some serious “mana” happening!

Hawaii can take pride in the fact that its ancient tradition is helping uplift our Japanese friends during very tough times.

(Source: NHK News. Unfortunately the original link to the source article no longer provides access.)

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2011

The Heroes of Mizuhama: How a Japanese Village Dodged a Tsunami

As you can see from my recent posts I’ve been preoccupied with the Japan disaster of late. I feel like we’ve been exposed to enough gloom and doom this past month to last a lifetime. So Japanese wife and I have been on the lookout for uplifting stories to bring light and inspiration back into our lives.

Proud to say that based on what we’ve found so far, there’s no shortage of heroes in Japan.

At the top of my list are the heroes at the Fukushima nuclear plant–workers, many of whom lost family members and friends in the disaster–battling the crisis around the clock under unthinkable conditions. Japan and the the world are indebted to them and their families for their sacrifice.

Then there’s Hideaki Akaiwa, who had the presence of mind and courage to find a wetsuit after the tsunami hit Ishinomaki city then dive into the murky waters of his submerged neighborhood to save his wife who, unbeknownst to him at the time, was still alive and trapped in their flooded home.  Can’t vouch for all the details of the story, but Akaiwa found his wife alive and got her to safety. Two days later he saved his mother.

And how about Susumu Sugawara, who sailed his boat into the teeth of the tsunami braving a massive wall of water and ensuing surges so he would have a functional boat to assist his community in the aftermath of the disaster? And can you believe the owner of a local supermarket gave away all his food to the community? It happened.

These people inspire me.

But not all heroic deeds are so bold and dramatic. There’s another kind of heroism, less sexy, less flashy, but just as impressive–in some ways more so. For lack of a better term let’s call it “collective heroism”: the accumulation of many small acts of heroism within any group of people, behavior driven by a cultural norm that expects community members to assist each other–to be heroic–when called upon to do so.

The Heroes of Mizuhama

(The story that follows was gleaned from the following article published in Japanese by Sankei News Japan, MSN. Keep in mind that this is not a word-for-word translation, rather a summary of the basic story that incorporates my thoughts and observations.)

On March 11^th a small fishing village on the Eastern coast of Japan called Mizuhama was about to be hit with a devastating one-two punch from nature: a 9.0 earthquake followed by a deadly tsunami, a disaster now referred to by the Japanese media as the “Higashi Nihon Dai Shinsai“, or “Great Eastern Japan Earthquake”.

Mizuhama is no stranger to tsunamis. In recent history it’s been hit with the Showa Sanriku Tsunami in 1933, then in 1960 an extremely destructive tsunami from the famous Chilean earthquake (the largest ever recorded in history), not to mention last year’s 70-centimeter tsunami from the most recent quake in Chile, a mere ripple by comparison.

What is incredible about this story is the short window of opportunity the villagers had to evacuate, although they had no way of knowing at the time just how precious every minute was. Reports vary on how long it actually took the tsunami to reach shore, but if you believe the residents interviewed in the article, it hit Mizuhama roughly 15 minutes after the quake.

Imagine 380 people evacuating within this small window of time. What are the chances of getting most villagers to high ground in 15 minutes? How many would you expect to make it?

Well, according to the Sankei article, out of their population of 380 people–many elderly, mind you–one person has been confirmed dead, with 8 more missing (all presumed dead). In the worst case scenario, that’s 9 out of 380, just over two-percent of the entire population.

Quoting statistics sounds a bit cold when discussing loss of life. The villagers’ deaths are sad and tragic for sure. But imagine how much worse it could have been. Think about it: a 30-plus-foot tsunami is on its way (the article said 20 meters), the village has less than 20 minutes to evacuate and 98% of the residents survive? That’s an incredible accomplishment.

It Takes a Village to Dodge a Tsunami

The story behind this success story works on so many levels. It’s about the human intellect working in harmony with the power of community. It’s about a culture–a particular subculture in Japan–with the right values, discipline and knowledge to prepare for a disaster and get its citizens out of harms way on very short notice. It’s about practice, cooperation and the sum total of many small acts of heroism.

In light of Mizuhama’s long history dealing with tsunamis in an extremely vulnerable location on an earthquake-prone coast, it makes sense its residents would be savvier than most folks when it comes to disaster preparedness.

To underscore the acute level of tsunami awareness in this part of Japan, a monument was erected in a nearby district inscribed with the following words: “When earthquakes occur beware of tsunamis.” In a cruel twist of cosmic irony, the March 11 tsunami washed away that monument.

But these villagers knew exactly what to do with or without that monument.

Akiyama Katsuko (67) escaped with even less warning than other residents of Mizuhama as she lives just 30 meters from the coast. When the earthquake hit she and her husband said they headed immediately for high ground. Some 15 minutes later they arrived at the evacuation area only to see a massive wave consume their entire village. Of 130 homes in Mizuhama, over 90% were washed out to sea.

How Did They Do It?

Practice, practice, practice. Every year the community practices safety drills designed to quickly evacuate the villagers to high ground. All residents of Mizuhama know by heart the quickest route to the designated evacuation area.

Some households, according to the article, even keep their valuables, photo albums, etc. in backpacks at all times so they’re ready for quick retrieval at a moment’s notice.

Keep in mind that Japan has an aging population: 20% is now over 60 years old, a demographic that continues to grow. Mizuhama, like many villages in outlying prefectures, has more than its share of elderly, many of whom live alone.

To ensure the elderly aren’t left behind, residents throughout their village are expected to learn who lives in every single home around them. Able-bodied neighbors take responsibility for helping elderly neighbors get to high ground. During this recent quake for example, the district Chair, Ito-san, said he went immediately to the home of an elderly neighbor living alone then helped him get to high ground by actually pushing him up the hill from behind.

If getting residents to high ground wasn’t enough of a challenge, the community was presented with a new challenge immediately after evacuation: the moment the tsunami hit they were isolated from the rest of the world.

Mizuhama is a geographically remote coastal region to begin with, more than 30 kilometers from Ishinomaki City (which also, by the way, turned into a 10-foot lake as the entire village dropped a couple feet in elevation thanks to the quake). As you might imagine the roads in and out of the city were impassible. For 4 days the villagers were on their own.

And yet no one panicked.

That’s because the residents of Mizuhama, isolated in their  remote little community far from the city, are always prepared for disasters: most residents keep reserves of water, fuel, and non-perishable goods such as rice, canned food, etc. just for these kinds of situations.

The Power of Community and Teamwork

But without the power of community and teamwork, all the preparation in the world ain’t worth a hill of beans.

Well, Mizuhama had the community and teamwork part covered as well: shortly after the water receded, residents returned to the village to retrieve food reserves from homes that survived–then shared it with all the other villagers. They pooled the village gasoline reserves, and agreed to use only one car to conserve. After a few days they organized a shopping run to the stores they could reach, and also found orderly, organized ways for everyone to get in contact with friends and loved ones.

As of April 2^nd, about 120 people were still living in the evacuation center at high ground. At the time they were without electricity, water and phone.

You’d think that this little village with an economy built on harvesting sea scallops would despair after losing all but 4 of its 50 boats. But the villagers are upbeat, especially Ito-san who said, “We won’t let this defeat us. If we support each other we can come back and do it again.”

Lessons from Mizuhama

This is a text-book case study of a community prepared for the worst. What strikes me is that success came from a low-tech place: people putting their heads and hearts together to harness the power of the team.

Then again, one could argue that harnessing the power of a community is more complex than any high-tech device known to man. An old colleague used to say that the technology of the mind was “the highest of all technologies”, and that knowing how to harness the power of people’s minds was the difference between mediocre teams and great teams.  I can’t help but believe that the incredible survival rate of  Mizuhama residents after this tsunami had everything to do with their “mind technologies”, a strong community spirit, and the discipline and dedication to master the basics of survival.

The Mizuhama story inspires me. It proves that a community can, as a collective, be heroic. My hat’s off to all of them!

And while communities around the world would do well to study and adopt a Mizuhama-style community model, the Mizuhama tsunami really hits close to home here in Hawaii. A mega-disaster could happen where I live; someday it will. (And if you think Mizuhama is isolated, keep in mind that we live on the most isolated landmass on the planet.) Of all places, it makes sense for my community–and those all across Hawaii–to plan for the worst and hope for the best.

If Mizuhama is our benchmark, we have a very long way to go.

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2011

How Can We Help Japan?

The Japan disaster is personal. If you read the previous post you know that my son, in-laws and friends live in Japan.

But it’s personal for other reasons. I’ll always feel indebted to Japan. The people of Japan forever changed the fortunes of an ignorant, immature 19-year kid from the North side of Chicago (um, that would be me 34 years ago). And my Japanese hosts did it with a patience that I didn’t at all deserve. They helped and nurtured me from adolescence to adulthood, no small feat as I was a royal pain in the arse. For this reason alone, these are my people!

And right now I feel helpless because I can’t help them. Can you tell it’s eating at me?

So it’s time to shift gears and do something; if not for the wonderful Japanese folks who hosted and put up with me for over ten years–then for my own sanity.

In this sense my motives are truly selfish. I am choosing to take action for my own peace of mind; unfortunately I haven’t yet figured out what action that might be. And this brings us to the point of today’s post: to solicit your ideas.

But before going there, let’s talk a little story first.

What Do I Do For a Living?

Just got back from a gig on the mainland. Did four seminars in two and a half days, that’s three half days plus one full day. (This doesn’t count the thirty-plus hours spent making my round-trip trek.) The entire trip took four days. As you might guess, I’m pooped as I type this.

So what’s my gig? Some folks call me an “intercultural trainer”, but my work is much more encompassing, and rarely do I “train” in the classical sense. “Educator” fits much better, as my sessions are designed to expand minds–to offer clients a deeper perspective by helping them view the world through the cultural lens of their counterparts.

On my business card my title is “Consultant”. The title doesn’t quite capture what I do either. People consult with me but I avoid giving clients answers. The deal is that I help them define the problem, then they come up with their own answers.

My wife calls me a “cross-cultural marriage counselor”, and that’s about as good a description as I’ve heard. I’m tempted to put the title on my business card.

My goal in every seminar I administer is not to tell people what to do or how to act. Instead I focus on helping them understand the current situation from a perspective they never before considered: through the eyes of coworkers (or customers) on the other side of the cultural fence. Based on this new perspective, I challenge them to reflect and decide for themselves the appropriate way to adjust.

I’ve been using this approach most of my career. And I’ve found over the years that once people get a glimpse of themselves through the lens of another culture, most know exactly what to do and how to adjust. (And yes I offer guidance when asked for it, but rarely do I lay down hard-and-fast rules–more on this in a future post.)

An Emotional Gig

One of my seminars on this recent trip was open to the public (as opposed to working privately with clients “in-house”). Participants were Japanese expatriate managers from various Japanese-owned companies around the Midwest. This particular seminar was geared toward helping them better understand the cultural values, motivations and behavior of their American counterparts, and challenging them to reflect on better ways to communicate and cooperate.

If we stick with my wife’s “cross-cultural marriage counselor” metaphor, then in this session only one “spouse” was present. (I actually do joint sessions that bring Japanese and Americans together, but this type of session is only practical when done internally at a single company.)

As far as my teaching style, most folks would say my seminars have a talk-story flavor (to use the local Hawaii vernacular). Telling stories is the best way I know of to engage and connect with an audience.

My stories always have a moral, but I try to keep the tone light. And when I’m “on my game” I’ve even been accused of being funny. As amazing as it sounds, I have a knack for making a roomful of anal, poker-faced Japanese engineers crack up, humor that only a factory-rat would appreciate. (I’m an ex-factory-rat.) My goal is to deliver a high energy seminar that’s enlightening and fun.

A Dilemma

And therein lies the dilemma I faced: how to reconcile the somber reality of Japan’s current crisis, with my happy-go-lucky, lighthearted teaching style.

Contemplating how best to approach the gig, I didn’t catch a wink of sleep on my red-eye flight from Honolulu to my Midwest destination. (It didn’t help that a baby a couple seats away was screaming most of the flight.) The more I thought about Japan’s current situation, the sadder and more emotional I got.

After some reflection I decided that the best approach was to take time at the beginning of the seminar to express my heartfelt regrets, sorrow for what happened, then let the chips fall wherever. I figured if there ever was a situation to follow my heart, this was it.

And it turned out to be the right decision, although for the first time in my life I almost broke down in front of an audience. (And it’s really hard to cry when you’re speaking Japanese, at least for me.) My stoic participants tried their best to keep a stiff upper lip, but pain was written all over their faces. The heaviness in the room was, as they say, palpable.

I managed to bumble my way through the opening without choking up too much. It was far from a perfect delivery, but after I was done I felt at peace. And it put me in a zone: the rest of the seminar flowed. We even shared a few laughs. We connected, and it felt good.

In fact it felt so good, that doing nothing is no longer an option for me. I need to get as busy as I can helping Japan. Here’s what I’ve got lined up so far:

We will donate money, either through Japan America Society Hawaii (JASH), or through our local charter school. Japan Red Cross is also a safe option. Other honorable organizations are out there, just be careful not to get scammed. (Please do your due diligence.)

I’m happy to say that Steve Hirakami, the Principal of Hawaii Academy of Arts and Science (HAAS) here in Pahoa, approached us to ask if my wife and I would help HAAS spearhead a fund-raiser for Japan. It’s worth mentioning that my wife teaches Japanese language at HAAS, so Steve’s idea is to have students in her class take the lead. Of course we jumped at the opportunity. We’ll be meeting with Steve this week to discuss the details. We’ll keep you posted on developments.

We’ve also reached out to Japan America Society Hawaii, and even to one of our clients in Honolulu, a company that is planning a fund-raiser in the near future. Still don’t know if there’s a place for us to make a contribution, but we offered to volunteer our time in any way that might help the cause. Once again, more on this as we figure out how we might contribute.

That’s all we’ve got so far. My inclination is to find a way to reach out to other businesses here on the Big Island, or anywhere in the islands for that matter. I want to get the word out here in Hawaii that helping Japan is not only the right thing to do, but it’s also in Hawaii’s best interest to do so.

The Japan-Hawaii Connection

Japan is a beloved member of Hawaii’s ohana, with deep cultural connecting points that are so obvious they’re easy to miss.

The most obvious connecting point is the local Japanese-American population in Hawaii, now in their 4th generation. Some of the old timers are still around; they speak a style of Japanese from another era, often mixed with English and pidgin. Many Japanese customs (like removing your shoes before entering a home) have taken root with all ethnicities in Hawaii. And most local folks love Japanese cuisine.

Just as significant as the Japan-immigrant connection, are some striking similarities between Japan and local Hawaiian culture. It’s why I believe that the popularity of Hawaiiana continues to boom in Japan today; it’s why over 400,000 Japanese are studying Hula today.

Indeed Japan and Hawaii share much of the same cultural DNA. For this reason, Japanese “get” the concept of climbing the mountain, picking a flower for their lei, and thanking the gods for the beautiful gift. The Japanese “get” the idea of paying homage to Pele through dance (as demonstrated through traditional Kahiko Hula). They “get” the concept of honoring nature.

Both cultures were incubated on a chain of volcanic islands. Earthquakes, tsunamis and eruptions are a way of life stretching back to the arrival of their inhabitants. No surprise both cultures respect and accept the awe-inspiring power of nature, and share a desire to live in harmony with it.

Both cultures pay homage to its ancestors.

Interestingly both spiritual traditions feature a powerful female deity who gave birth to their islands. (“Amaterasu Omikami, meet Pele!”)

Both spiritual traditions are polytheistic, both animate the phenomenal world with spirits; both believe that man is a part of nature. (Japanese didn’t even have a word for nature until relatively recent times.)

Both cultures are resourceful due to, ironically, lack of resources. Logically both traditions were adept at conserving resources–not because it was fashionable, but for their very survival. It’s tough living sustainably on a resource-scarce island.

The aforementioned outlook on the awe-inspiring power of nature would seem to contradict the intense love both cultures also feel toward nature. And yet somehow, some way that’s how it worked out. Japanese nature-inspired aestheticism is world-renowned. Hawaiians honor nature through music and dance (and yes, Hawaiian aesthetics are pleasant to the eye as well.)

Tying all this together, the Japanese love Hawaii and Hawaii loves Japan. Hawaii’s close cultural ties with Japan make them cultural cousins, ohana. Aloha means embracing friends and family in good times and bad. This is Hawaii’s chance to step forward and embrace an old friend. It will need to be a long embrace.

Which Brings Me to My Point…

I’m looking for ideas. I want to figure out how I might apply my skills (as wretched as they may be) to raise awareness and, ideally, inspire folks to give or do whatever they can to help.

One way is by educating people–specifically here in Hawaii–on how important Japan is to us, and why we need to link arms and pitch in.

I’m particularly interested in hearing long-term ideas on how we might offer continuous support, help and goodwill until Japan gets back on its feet, because a one-shot deal won’t cut it over the long-haul.

Final Thoughts

The scale of this disaster is beyond human comprehension. There seems to be a perception floating around that Japan is such a highly developed and economically rich nation, that they don’t need our help. It’s not at all true but that’s the perception and that’s all that matters–which means we have to find a way to change the perception.

Here’s the reality: recovery will take years in Japan. The human suffering happening right now in Northern Japan is as real as the suffering experienced by the poor folks in Haiti and New Zealand. Japan clearly had an advantage in terms of its infrastructure, development and warning systems. But the scale of the disaster swept away most of those advantages like the monster tsunami that wiped out Sendai. Now the survivors hurt. And when people hurt, we all hurt equally.

The human suffering will be further compounded by the economic impact in lost productivity while Japan struggles to recover. The cost to rebuild will be astronomical and that doesn’t even take into consideration the after-effects of the nuclear crisis. To further complicate matters, where will Japan’s electricity come from to drive their economic recovery?

Even if you’re not the altruistic type, there’s a practical reason to help: we live in a connected, interdependent world. It’s in the world’s best interest to continue enjoying the talents and strengths of a vibrant, economically healthy Japan. By extension, it’s in the world’s best interest to jump in and roll up our sleeves.

Please keep your thoughts with the folks suffering in Northern Japan. They need all the help and support they can get. Thanks in advance for your willingness to help the cause. Feel free to comment here or email me at hawaiilovesjapan@gmail.com.

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2011