FUTABA, FUKUSHIMA PREF. – Dressed in protective plastic coveralls and white boots, Yuji Onuma stood in front of the row of derelict buildings that included his house, and sighed as he surveyed his old neighborhood.
On the once-bustling main street, reddish weeds poked out of cracked pavement in front of abandoned shops with caved-in walls and crumbling roofs. Nearby, thousands of black plastic bags filled with irradiated soil were stacked in a former rice field.
“It’s like visiting a graveyard,” he said.
Onuma, 43, was back in his hometown of Futaba to check on his house, less than 4 km from the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant where a triple core meltdown after the March 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake and tsunami spread radiation across the region.
The authorities say it will be two more years before evacuees can live here again, an eternity for people who have been in temporary housing for nine years. But given the lingering radiation here, Onuma says he has decided not to move back with his wife and two young sons.
Most of his neighbors have moved on, abandoning their houses and renting smaller apartments in nearby cities or settling elsewhere in Japan.
Given the problems Futaba still faces, many evacuees are chafing over the government’s efforts to showcase the town as a shining example of Fukushima’s reconstruction for the 2020 Olympics.
While there has been speculation that the global spread of the coronavirus that emerged in China last year might force the cancellation of the Olympics, Japanese officials have said they are confident the games will go ahead.
The Olympic torch relay will take place in Fukushima later this month — although possibly in shortened form as a result of the coronavirus, Olympic organizers say — and will pass through Futaba. In preparation, construction crews have been hard at work repairing streets and decontaminating the center of town.
“I wish they wouldn’t hold the relay here,” said Onuma. He pointed to workers repaving the road outside the train station, where the torch runners are likely to pass. “Their No. 1 aim is to show people how much we’ve recovered.”
He said he hoped the torch relay would also pass through the overgrown and ghostly parts of the town to convey everything that the 7,100 residents uprooted from Futaba lost as a result of the meltdowns.
“I don’t think people will understand anything by just seeing cleaned-up tracts of land.”
In 2013, when Prime Minister Shinzo Abe was pitching Tokyo’s bid for the 2020 Games to the International Olympic Committee, he declared that the situation at Fukushima No. 1 was “under control.”
The games have been billed as the “Reconstruction Olympics” — an opportunity to laud Japan’s massive effort to rebuild the parts of Tohoku ravaged by the offshore quake and subsequent tsunami, as well as the crisis at the power plant owned by Tokyo Electric Power Company Holdings Inc.
After the crisis, the government created an agency just to handle the reconstruction efforts and pledged ¥32 trillion ($286.8 billion) in funding to rebuild affected areas.
Signs of the reconstruction are everywhere near the plant: New roads have been built, apartment blocks for evacuee families have sprouted up, and an imposing seawall now runs along the coastline. An army of workers commutes to the wrecked plant every day to decommission the reactors.
In March, just days before the Olympic relay is scheduled to be held across Fukushima, the central government will partially ease a restriction order for Futaba, which co-hosts the plant with the town of Okuma.
This means residents like Onuma will be able to freely come and go without passing through security or changing into protective clothing. But evacuees will still not be able to stay in their homes overnight.
After a few years bouncing between relatives’ homes and temporary apartments, Onuma decided to build a new house in Ibaraki Prefecture. His two sons are already enrolled in kindergarten and elementary school there.
“You feel a sense of despair,” Onuma said. “Our whole life was here and we were just about to start our new life with our children.”
When Onuma was 12, he won a local competition to come up with a catchphrase for promoting atomic energy. His words, “Nuclear Energy for a Brighter Future” were painted on an arch that welcomed visitors to Futaba.
After the meltdowns, the sign was removed against his objections.
“It feels like they’re whitewashing the history of this town,” said Onuma, who now installs solar panels for a living.
Japan’s Olympic organizing committee did not respond to requests for comment.
Other residents and community leaders in nearby towns say the Olympics may have actually hindered the region’s recovery.
Yasushi Niitsuma, a 60-year-old restaurant owner in Namie, said the Olympics stalled local reconstruction projects because of surging demand and costs for securing labor and materials ahead of the games.
“We need to wait two years, three years to have a house built because of the lack of craftsmen,” Niitsuma said. “We are being put on the back burner.”
Fukushima’s agriculture and fisheries industries have also been devastated.
“I was astonished by the ‘under control’ comment made in a pitch to win the Olympic Games,” said Takayuki Yanai, who directs a fisheries co-op in Iwaki, 50 km south of the plant, referring to Abe’s statement.
“People in Fukushima have the impression that reconstruction was used as bait to win the Olympic Games.”
A government panel recently recommended discharging contaminated water building up at the plant into the sea, which Yanai expects to further hurt what remains of the area’s fisheries industry.
At a recent news conference, reconstruction minister Kazunori Tanaka responded to a question about the evacuees’ criticism.
“We will work together with relevant prefectures, municipalities and various organizations so that people in the region can take a positive view,” he said of the Olympics.
Local officials also say they are making progress on returning residents to Futaba.
“Unlike Chernobyl, we are aiming to go back and live there,” Futaba Mayor Shirou Izawa said in an interview, calling the partial lifting of the evacuation order a sign of “major progress.”
There were a lot of misunderstandings about the radiation levels in the town, including the safety of produce and fish from Fukushima, Izawa said.
“It would be great if such misunderstanding is dispelled even a little bit,” he said.
Radiation readings in the air taken in February near Futaba’s train station were around 0.28 microsieverts per hour, still approximately eight times the readings taken on the same day in central Tokyo.
Another area in Futaba had a reading of 4.64 microsieverts per hour the same day, meaning a person would reach the upper limit of 1 millisievert for annual exposure recommended by the International Commission on Radiological Protection in just nine days.
Despite the official assurances, it’s hard to miss the signs of devastation and decay around town.
The block where Takahisa Ogawa’s house once stood is now just a row of overgrown lots, littered with concrete debris. A small statue of a stone frog is all that remains of his garden, which is also scattered with wild boar droppings.
He finally demolished his house last year after failing to convince his wife and two sons to return to live in Futaba.
Ogawa doubts any of his childhood friends and neighbors will ever return to the town.
“I’ve passed the stage where I’m angry and I’m resigned,” he said.
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