16 March 2011 - I liked this piece by Laura King in the Los Angeles Times:
Reporting from Tokyo -- She was elderly and alone, injured and in pain. When the massive earthquake struck, a heavy bookshelf toppled onto Hiroko Yamashita, pinning her down and shattering her ankle. When paramedics finally reached her, agonizing hours later, Yamashita did what she said any "normal" person would do, her son-in-law recounted later: She apologized to them for the inconvenience, and asked if there weren't others they should be attending to first.
The worst earthquake in Japan's recorded history left a trail of blazing buildings, inundated coastal communities, wrecked roadways and potentially unstable nuclear power plants. But it barely made a dent in the implacably Japanese trait of exhibiting concern for others even in the worst of circumstances.
In Tokyo and its suburbs, the quake knocked out much of the usually clockwork-reliable public-transportation system. Yet when trains finally appeared on a few crucial routes, the queue was as orderly as on any mundane commuting day. Once aboard, people sat quietly, gazing at their cellphones in hope of an elusive signal. “It would be uncivilized to try to push and shove, and what good would it do anyway?” said Kojo Saeseki, helping his wife onto a crowded train on the city’s outskirts.
The Japanese language is full of ritual apologies, uttered so often as to become almost meaningless: I am about to make a nuisance of myself — please excuse me! Some of this is a matter of mere formality. But at a time of crisis, such politesse can be the glue that holds the country together. Even though Friday's magnitude 8.9 quake was shocking and discombobulating, few would imagine burdening a stranger with their anxieties.
The worst earthquake in Japan's recorded history left a trail of blazing buildings, inundated coastal communities, wrecked roadways and potentially unstable nuclear power plants. But it barely made a dent in the implacably Japanese trait of exhibiting concern for others even in the worst of circumstances.
In Tokyo and its suburbs, the quake knocked out much of the usually clockwork-reliable public-transportation system. Yet when trains finally appeared on a few crucial routes, the queue was as orderly as on any mundane commuting day. Once aboard, people sat quietly, gazing at their cellphones in hope of an elusive signal. “It would be uncivilized to try to push and shove, and what good would it do anyway?” said Kojo Saeseki, helping his wife onto a crowded train on the city’s outskirts.
The Japanese language is full of ritual apologies, uttered so often as to become almost meaningless: I am about to make a nuisance of myself — please excuse me! Some of this is a matter of mere formality. But at a time of crisis, such politesse can be the glue that holds the country together. Even though Friday's magnitude 8.9 quake was shocking and discombobulating, few would imagine burdening a stranger with their anxieties.
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