Protests, vigils commemorate 1st anniversary of tsunami, nuclear disaster in Japan

TOKYO, Japan -- Thousands of Japanese bowed their heads in silence before marching in the streets in anger Sunday to mark the first anniversary of the earthquake and tsunami that killed nearly 20,000 people and triggered one of the worst nuclear disasters in history.

Protesters crowded Tokyo’s Hibiya Park to pray at 2:46 p.m., the moment the 9.0-magnitude earthquake struck off the coast of northern Japan on March 11, 2011.

The quake, Japan’s strongest on record, buckled roads and launched a tsunami that wrecked the northeast coast.

Demonstrators hoisted signs saying things like “Sayonara Nukes” and “Save Our Children” as they marched to the headquarters of Tokyo Electric Power Company, which operates the damaged Fukushima-Daichi nuclear power plant. The protestors demanded a stop to nuclear power and blamed the government for shrugging off the risks of putting reactors on the tsunami-prone coast.

“I don’t want the energy that comes from nuclear power plants,” said Mariko Hoshiko, 50, of Tokyo. “It’s all of our faults. The government ignored to the warning. It’s everybody’s responsibility.”

The nuclear power plant in Fukushima was already partially damaged from the earthquake when 30-foot waves crashed onto the shore, crippling the plant’s cooling systems. Three of the reactors overheated, exposing hundreds of thousands of people to radiation and driving 150,000 from their homes.

Saori Kanzawa lived 35 miles from the plant in the village of Koriyama, but said she never considered the danger of living so close before the disaster.

“I was never worried. We thought it was safe,” Kanzawa, 33, said. “We thought accidents like Three Mile Island and Chernobyl only happened in foreign countries. It would never happen in Japan.”

Most citizens had relied on the government and energy companies’ information about how safe the nuclear power plants were. Before the nuclear meltdown, 60 percent of the Japanese population favored nuclear energy, according to a government survey in 2009. Now, media surveys show less than 5 percent remain in support, and many citizens, like Kanzawa, no longer trust what the government is saying.

Outside of the national parliament building after sun down, demonstrators formed a human chain around the block.

“We’re asking them for no more Fukushima. No more nuclear power,” said Yuko Igarashi, 66, of Saitama as she held a sign protesting the nuclear energy and a flickering candle in memory of the disasters.

The demonstrators were supposed to continue to the prime minister’s office, but the police blocked their path.

The protest illustrated the new attitude of publicly challenging the government in ways rarely seen in Japan. Some people have bought personal Geiger counters to monitor radiation around them because they don’t believe what the government is telling them.

All of the data is uploaded to a website for the public to see.

Kanzawa didn’t doubt her government’s radiation numbers until after the U.S. warned American citizens within 50 miles of the damaged plant to evacuate. The Japanese required only people within a 12 mile radius to get out. After researching the radiation levels online, Kanzawa decided she had to move away from the area to protect her daughter from radiation exposure.

“I’m disappointed that all the time I was living there I didn’t have any doubts about the power plant. I’m angry at myself,” Kanzawa said. “But when the accident happened, I realized the way the government reacts. They’re trying to make fools of us. It’s really humiliating.”

For refugees like Kanzawa, life is constantly in flux. Her family is working to negotiate rent as the lease on their donated Tokyo apartment runs out. They still pay a mortgage on their house in Fukushima. She fears her furniture is absorbing the radiation from the atmosphere.

Her husband had to close his public relations business in Fukushima and now makes less money working for an undergarment manufacturer in Tokyo. The capital has run out of aid money to support families. To help, Kanzawa works with a group of Fukushima evacuees in the Tokyo area to distribute donated goods and emotionally support other refugees.

To Kanzawa, Fukushima is still home. Her family, belongings and many of her friends are still there despite radiation that she says remains at levels 150 percent above normal.

“It’s kind of sad. I want to go back myself,” Kanzawa said. “I just can’t feel like it’s safe for my child.”

Kanzawa had tears in her eyes as she talked about how uncertain her daughter’s future is. Knowing the consequences of radiation exposure on the survivors of the U.S. atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II, Fukushima residents worry about the long-term health effects of last year’s nuclear accident.

Kanzawa said she didn’t know whether daughter’s hair would start falling out or her reproductive system would be damaged forever. She worries her daughter may have trouble getting married if people learn where she was from.

The future of Fukushima and nuclear power remains unknown. Of Japan’s 54 nuclear power plants, only two are operating. The battle to close the plants is being fought with signs and chants from the street: “We don’t need nuclear power! We don’t need radiation! Let’s take care of our children!”

Protester Ryotaro Endo the Japanese people should have known better about the dangers of nuclear power after suffering through the horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

“We know the negative, the bad sides, of nuclear energy. But we said that if we used it for power then it’s for peaceful purposes,” said Endo, 44, as he marched through central Tokyo. “We tried to make it into a good thing, but that was a mistake.”