Evacuees Miss Volcano-Adjacent Homes

It was the first time Tomiharu Sogabe had been back to his butcher shop and grocery store in more than a year. What he found when he unlocked the door was worse than he had feared.

Potato chips and cookies were strewn across the floor, along with stationery, batteries and cooking oil. Weasels and rats had looted the place and left behind piles of scat. Spiders the size of a man’s hand crawled on the walls. The electricity was out, leaving the tiny store dark and dank.

Worst of all was the smell.

When Sogabe was ordered to get off this island to escape a volcanic eruption, he had no time to worry about what would happen to his shelves of meat, fish and milk. He didn’t think he’d be gone that long.

Now he and the nearly 4,000 others forced to leave are wondering if they will ever be allowed to live here again. Take one step out the door of Sogabe’s store and the reason is clear--the island is a smoking volcano that continues to spew toxic gases.

For Sogabe, that’s incidental.

Miyake is a beautiful island. The fishing is among the best in Japan. Divers came from all over the world in the summers. There are rare birds in the lush green trees, dolphins in its sparkling blue waters.

“Of course I want to come back,” Sogabe said as he picked up a dust-covered newspaper that had been sitting on the counter by his cash register since the evacuation on Sept. 1, 2000, nearly two months after Mt. Oyama started erupting. “But I’m 70 years old. I’m going to have to start all over.”

Three hours later he was on a boat bound for Tokyo and the evacuation shelter he refuses to call home.

The evacuation of Miyake, one in a chain of volcanic isles off Tokyo, was a model of success. As soon as the decision was made, emergency officials saw that everyone on the island was removed safely. It was an orderly, efficient operation. But now the government must make an even harder call--when, or if, to let them go back.

When the sirens went off and the ships came to take them away, Keiko Kurihara quickly packed the first things she could grab and joined the others as they rushed to the pier.

“I was pretty scared,” she recalled. “You don’t really think. You just grab stuff. I got some clothes, my bankbook. And I took my ancestors’ ashes.”

Since then her life has been on hold.

The government has provided each islander who needs it with free shelter in Tokyo. The central government has chipped in with $9,000 for each household. Tokyo, which has jurisdiction over Miyake, has provided an additional $4,500.

But with businesses destroyed and mortgages to pay, many of the islanders are facing severe financial troubles.

Kurihara, who worked at one of Miyake’s hot springs, has held some cleaning jobs since the evacuation. She has begun training to be a helper for older people, but at 62, her own health is not as good as it once was.

“It’s hard getting started,” she said.

Few islanders are critical of the order that forced them to leave their homes. The evacuation almost certainly saved lives; no one was killed by the eruption. But like most of her former neighbors, Kurihara wants to return.

That will not happen soon.

Shigeru Aoki, a Miyake Island official, said that along with continuing eruptions, the danger of mudslides and high levels of noxious gases are the main concerns. In particular, he said, the concentration of sulfur dioxide in the air can reach about 200 times the accepted standard.

“The island is not in a condition for people to return right now,” he said.

If the go-ahead for the islanders to return is given, it will come from Miyake’s mayor. Because there are no defined rules, the decision will be based largely on the opinion of a government panel of experts.

But expert opinion is divided.

“Some say the gas emissions will abate in another six months, and others say they will continue for more than 20 years,” Aoki said. “Even scholars, who are experts, don’t have a clear answer. We don’t know how soon.”

It is not uncommon for the wait to be long.

A 1991 eruption of Mt. Unzen in southern Japan killed 44 people and forced the evacuation of more than 11,000. The evacuation order wasn’t lifted until late 1995.

Thousands of people displaced by an earthquake that flattened Kobe in 1995 were forced to live in temporary shelters for several years as the port city struggled to rebuild. The stress was too much for many to bear--dozens committed suicide--and such evacuees are now often provided with counseling.

The recent visit to Miyake lasted just a few hours, and even that was considered a risk.

Old people struggled to hear instructions on how to use the gas masks they were issued in case they were enveloped by a sudden wind change or volcanic belch. Hard hats were required. Dozens of police and fire department officers were deployed, and a Coast Guard vessel waited offshore in case the visit needed to be abruptly cut short.

Every 30 minutes or so, a public address system blared safety updates.

“No major changes in gases or volcanic activity,” one said. “The plume continues to rise. It is now 850 meters [2,500 feet] high and moving north-northwest.”

The visit by 351 residents was allowed because officials think Miyake’s environment is finally stable enough, if the proper precautions are taken, to allow rapid evacuation again. More than 1,300 other residents are to follow in subsequent trips.

As the returnees fanned out just after dawn in buses to their hamlets, the surroundings seemed surprisingly normal. Most of the homes were undamaged, and the streets had been cleaned of the ash and debris that spewed forth when Mt. Oyama began erupting July 9, 2000, after a 17-year silence.

But those familiar with the island could see subtle differences.

Two Tokyo officials escorting the residents noted a stretch of flat beach covered with black volcanic sand. It was known for scenic crags jutting out of the sea, but the crags now are almost completely buried.

Sadako Hasegawa, who lives just up a steep hill from that beach, said she hadn’t gone down to look. Nor had she seen the homes of her neighbors at the base of the hill. Inundated by mudflows, they were probably more seriously damaged than any others on the island.

“There’s no time,” she said. “I have to get my house in order.”

Hasegawa, 66, said she had lived through four of Oyama’s eruptions. She said this one is different because of the threat of toxic gas.

“It’s frightening because you can’t see it,” she said. “If they told me to get back on the ship right now, I wouldn’t argue.”

But Hasegawa said the thing she feared most was the possibility of not being allowed to come back.

“We hear rumors, but we have little information,” she said. “It’s very unsettling not to know what is going to happen with our future. But I suppose there isn’t really anything we can do. We just have to trust the government.”