The wind has been fierce for the past three days in Rikuzentakata. Stepping outside means noses run, eyes tear, cheeks burn, and hair requires rearranging. It's hard to walk. It's hard to stand upright. Window panes rattle causing an eerie whine.
We are located on the ocean here in Rikuzentakata so the argument can be made this kind of weather is normal. The restlessness I sensed among the locals meant these winds are anything but. Finally last night I heard the whole story.
Yuji is drunk. This is not the month for him to detox per his doctor's orders so he's downing beers as fast as they can be reordered. By the end of the evening when we've all switched seats several times mingling and talking, laughing and chiding, I end up next to Yuji who has his own version of what these winds mean.
"It's not normal whats' going on," Yuji says slurring his words.
"What do you mean, it's not normal?" I ask.
"The day before the disaster was like this. Winds ridiculous and seemingly never-ending."
Yuji is the one who shared with me a web site "from somewhere in California" predicting earthquakes. While I put no stock into this type of "science" he's certain there's enough truth not to dismiss.
"Look," he says, showing me his cell phone. "Look at these dates. We're due, most of Japan is due, 100% it says for an earthquake larger than a M5.5."
"But, that was for yesterday," I say. "It didn't happen."
"That's why I'm concerned about the wind. Maybe it's a day off."
Before I can protest his logic he continues, "Then there are the crows."
Here we go. I've heard about the crows before from plenty of locals.
"This morning there were a ton of them sitting on the telephone wires..."
"Just like there were two days before." I've interrupted him and we're now speaking in unison.
"You heard about the crows?"
"Yes, I heard about the crows."
Over and over, I've heard about the crows. Two days prior to the disaster of March 11, 2011 hundreds sat on telephone wires all throughout town, black lines in the sky. They all shat, creating a maze of white lines on the ground.
"The crows were back this morning," Yuji says. "That and the wind and this web site..." and now he's trailed off, reaching for his beer again.
What do I do with this pseudo-science? Nothing. Partly, there's nothing I can do--this is not a real enough warning system--and partly I don't believe the strong-winds-mean-impending-doom theory. The crows I'm less inclined to dismiss. I can't help thinking animals might sense something humans have long since lost the ability to detect. Surely if there were hundreds of crows lining the sky today I would have heard by now. Wouldn't I?
I'm tempted to bring up to Yuji the multiple conspiracy theories I've heard over the past two years about what really caused the giant earthquake. It was Ken who first told me.
"Don't get mad, okay?" This is never a good way to start out a conversation and I should know better than to agree not to be offended by what surely will be offensive. I'm a slow-learner as I told Ken to go ahead.
"There are those who say the Americans, your military, shot a missile into the ocean floor and that's what caused the earthquake and that's what caused the tsunami." I roll my eyes.
"Why would Americans do this?"
"To ruin the Japanese economy."
"Look," I start. Ken interrupts.
"You said you wouldn't get mad!"
"I'm not mad. It's stupid, that's all. If my country wanted to ruin the Japanese economy, now don't get mad," I grin, "it wouldn't target Tohoku. There's not enough going on here that it would bring down all of Japan."
"Huh," he says, clearly not happy I make sense.
What would Yuji make of this? I would completely ruin his theory about crows and winds being viable methods of predicting a natural disaster if the earthquake and subsequent tsunami were anything but natural. I decide Yuji is too drunk for this tonight and let the conversation flow out to sea.
My takeaway from Yuji's concern over crows and wind is this: thoughts of the next big one is right under the surface. If only we could predict.
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