Chapter 3: Disasters Challenge Our Social Support Systems—Ensuring People Are Valued in Shelters

When I think about the Kumamoto earthquake, what remains in my heart is not just the scenes of the disaster-stricken areas I saw on the news.

The experiences of those who actually went to provide support.
Stories I heard from friends.
And the experiences of those who went to Noto, where recovery is still delayed.

Every time I hear such individual stories, my heart aches.

Disasters are not just events that happen on the news.

They are things that suddenly snatch away the daily lives of the people who lived there.

The home where you slept peacefully.
The kitchen you always used.
The road you walked every day.
The casual greetings with neighbors.

Such ordinary daily life changes in an instant.

Thinking about that reality, I feel that disasters leave deep scars not only on buildings and roads, but also on people's hearts.

Can people truly rest in a shelter?

When I think about shelters, what I am particularly worried about is the difficulty in maintaining privacy.

Not being able to sleep peacefully.
Feeling self-conscious and unable to rest your mind or body.
It becomes difficult to maintain cleanliness.
It becomes harder to notice changes in physical condition.

Shelters are necessary places to protect lives.

But at the same time, I think they can also become places where the longer you spend time there, the more your mind and body gradually wear down.

Thinking as a nurse, I am very concerned about dehydration, insomnia, and fatigue during shelter life.

Not being able to drink enough water.
Not being able to sleep soundly.
The constant tension in an unfamiliar environment.

When these things pile up, even people with physical strength gradually weaken.

I think it becomes an even greater burden for the elderly, those with underlying health conditions, children, and those providing care.

A sense of despair like entering a long tunnel

I thought about what would be the hardest if I were in a shelter.

What I feel is a sense of despair like entering a long tunnel.

You don't know when it will end.
You don't know what will happen next.
You cannot lie down in peace or take a deep breath.

I believe that spending a long time in a space where you cannot relax is very exhausting for the human heart.

The pain of a disaster is not just about cleaning up what has been broken.

Not being able to see what lies ahead.
Not having a place where you can feel safe.
Not being able to manage your own life.

I think that the accumulation of these things weighs heavily on a person's heart.

Beyond supplies, a place to rest in peace

That is why I thought that disaster relief requires not only supplies but also the provision of spaces where people can relax.

Of course, water, food, and daily necessities are essential.

However, beyond that, a place where you can sit with even a little peace of mind.
Time to rest without worrying about others' eyes.
Someone to talk to about your feelings.
Someone who asks, 'Are you okay?'

I believe such things are also necessary for people to live.

Being there for someone.
Doing what you can together.
Not taking everything on for them, but finding small things you can do together right now.

I feel that this connects not only to times of disaster but also to our everyday mutual support.

I felt gratitude and hope in the actions of those who were actually working

I once had the opportunity to see photos of someone who went to provide support.

It showed them loading supplies into a car, trying to deliver them to where they were needed.

When I saw those photos, I felt that disaster relief is not something 'someone else will do,' but work where people actually move, sweat, and make decisions while observing the situation on the ground.

Also, a message from someone mentioned that although fortunately there were no human casualties, there were people in some areas suffering from significant damage, disrupted lifelines, and forced inconvenience.

While there were voices wanting to gather at the church to receive communion, there was also a commitment that everyone would respond to necessary support needs, such as fetching water, cleaning up, and handling supplies.

Reading that, my heart was moved.

I believe that in times of disaster, people do not just need supplies.

Water, food, and daily necessities are, of course, essential.

But at the same time, I realized that connections like
“We care about you,”
“Please let us know if you need any help,”
and “We will support you together”
are also vital forces that sustain people.

When I saw those photos and messages, my first feeling was gratitude.

That there are people working for the local residents in such difficult circumstances.
That there are people transporting supplies, staying in touch, and thinking about the necessary support.

Seeing that, a feeling of heartfelt gratitude welled up within me.

At the same time, I also felt hope.

Disasters shake our lives to the core.
There are people whose water has stopped, who are busy cleaning up, and who are living in anxiety.

Yet, even in the midst of that, there are people acting for the sake of others.
There are connections that allow people to say, “Please let us know if you need any help.”
There are people trying to support one another so that no one has to carry the burden alone.

In that, I felt hope.

Prayer leads to action

What I felt when seeing the support from the church and Helping Hands was the importance of being able to act quickly.

Prayer is important.

But I believe prayer does not end there; it also becomes the strength to act for someone else's sake.

Delivering necessary supplies.
Checking on the situation.
Staying in contact.
Those who can, acting in ways they are able.

In that, I felt as though I had seen one form of faith.

Faith is not just something inside the heart; it also becomes the feet that walk toward those in need.
It becomes the hands that carry heavy loads.
It becomes the words that ask, “Are you okay?”

When I thought of it that way, I realized that mutual aid is a small practice in creating peace.

Peace is not just the absence of trouble

Perhaps peace is not just the absence of trouble.

Even when difficult things happen,
it is the existence of human connections that allow us to say,
“We will not abandon you”
and “We will support you together.”

I believe that there, too, lies a small form of peace.

The absence of war.
The absence of conflict.
These are, of course, important.

But also, that vulnerable people are not left behind during a disaster.
That the elderly, children, those who are ill, and those providing care are treated with value.
That there is a system in place to support those who provide support.

I believe that is also necessary for a peaceful society.

Peace means creating a society where people are treated as human beings, even in times of disaster.

And that vulnerable people are not left behind, and that there are connections that allow us to say,
"I will not abandon you."

That is how I feel.

Do what you can, when you can, from where you are.

Faced with a major disaster, I feel that what I can do is small.

I cannot solve everything.
I alone do not have the power to advance recovery immediately.

However, I do not believe that I can do nothing.

To keep caring.
To pray.
To learn about the necessary support.
To cooperate within one's means.
To cultivate relationships in our local communities where we can support each other on a daily basis.

And to say to the person in front of you,
"Are you okay?"
"Let's think about this together."
"I am thinking of you."

I believe that is also a step toward creating peace.

Disasters challenge the way our society supports one another.

So that at such times, no one is left behind.
So that those who are suffering are not left alone.
So that those who provide support are also supported.

Do what you can, when you can, from where you are.

I want to be someone who creates peace while cherishing such small acts of mutual aid.