When a 9-year-old boy from Fukushima Prefecture wrote a letter to Prime Minister Naoto Kan in August, he asked a question that was on the minds of many other children his age.
When a 9-year-old boy from Fukushima Prefecture wrote a letter to Prime Minister Naoto Kan in August, he asked a question that was on the minds of many other children his age.
“Will I be able to grow to become an adult?” Ken (not his real name) asked.
Ken, who loves playing soccer and moved to Kyoto in July to escape the dangers from the crippled Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant, said his fear of radiation prompted him to write the letter to the prime minister.
“I am scared because I may die of radiation-linked cancer,” Ken said. “If I cannot grow to become an adult, I will not be able to make it to the Japanese national soccer squad.”
Ken is one of thousands of students who have fled Fukushima Prefecture since the magnitude-9.0 quake and giant tsunami on March 11 knocked out the cooling systems of the No. 1 plant, leading to a triple meltdown and a huge release of radioactive materials.
Ken, a third-grader from the prefectural capital of Fukushima, moved out with his mother, Yumi (not her real name), and his 1-year-old sister. His father and grandmother remain in the city, about 62 kilometers from the embattled plant.
According to the Fukushima prefectural board of education, 8,987 children at public elementary and junior high schools, or about 5 percent of the total, had left the prefecture by Sept. 1. As of Dec. 1, 7,977 remained outside the prefecture.
Ken’s letter is carried in the book “Fukushima no Kodomo-tachi kara no Tegami: Hoshano tte Itsu Nakunaruno?” (Letters from children in Fukushima Prefecture: When will radiation be gone?), published in February by Asahi Shimbun Publications Inc. Other letters, essays and drawings by about 50 children are included.
The book is partly the result of efforts by Kids Voice, a private group of parents of children who have left the prefecture and their supporters. Their goal is to provide government officials with a clearer picture of the situation facing Fukushima children, regardless of where they live.
Ken said he did not want to leave. He had joined a neighborhood soccer team only in April and was looking forward to playing in a game.
But Yumi, 37, was concerned about her children’s health.
In May, she arranged to have Ken undergo a urine test conducted by a group of parents working to protect children from high radiation doses.
The test detected more than 1 becquerel of both cesium-134 and cesium-137 per liter in his urine.
The nine other children in the city who took the urine test--five boys and four girls aged 6 to 16?all showed radiation exposure.
The education ministry brushed off the parents’ concerns, saying the readings were at an “extremely low level” and that the children’s health will not be affected.
Yumi was not convinced.
“Nobody knows what will happen to my children if radioactive material keeps accumulating within their bodies,” Yumi said. “I would not know how to apologize to them if they became sick later.”
Her family decided that the three would move to Kyoto city, which was offering housing units to evacuees.
Ken used to look forward to playing soccer with his father on weekends. Now, they can see each other only once a month or two.
Yumi was brought to tears when Ken replied to her question about what present he wanted for Christmas.
“Daddy and grandma,” the boy said.
When his father and grandmother joined them in Kyoto for about a week late last year, Ken would not leave them, even for a moment.
Yumi longs for the day when the entire family can live together again.
“I cannot afford to ponder my family’s future during our evacuation because I am so preoccupied with how to protect the health of my children,” Yumi said. “I hope to be reunited with my family soon so that we can discuss our plans and dreams.”
Although many relocated evacuees may now be largely free of worries about radiation, their moves did not come without a price.
Takako Shishido, a 39-year-old who fled to Sapporo in Hokkaido in June with her two children--a fifth-grade girl and a junior high school boy--said she is worried about the “double isolation” effect on fellow evacuees in their hometowns and in their adopted community.
Shishido, a member of the parent-teacher association at her daughter's school in Fukushima Prefecture, constantly called for the evacuation of children and urged parents and teachers to pay greater attention to the health risks of radiation doses.
But most of the other parents would not listen to her.
“We have no choice but to live here,” one of the parents told Shishido.
Gradually, fewer parents were willing to talk to her when they gathered.
The apartment complex in Sapporo where the Shishidos now live is home to about 150 evacuating families, mostly from Fukushima Prefecture, most of them mothers and their children.
Shishido serves as the representative for the residents’ association formed by about 110 such households.
The mothers were already struggling with the enormous burden of gaining income and raising their children in a community with no acquaintances, when a revolting incident occurred in early July.
Somebody scattered animal feces in the apartment building.
After that incident, the Fukushima mothers gathered more often to help each other. They created the residents’ association to ride out the tough times together.
With extensive assistance from the Hokkaido government, various plans emerged to improve the lives of the mothers and their children. A day-care center opened, and the public job placement office offered counseling session for those seeking work near the apartment building.
Shishido’s daughter had serious trouble adjusting to her new school, refusing at times to even enter the classroom. But school officials offered counseling and other assistance, and she is now doing well at the school.
In an essay carried in “Fukushima no Kodomo-tachi kara no Tegami: Hoshano tte Itsu Nakunaruno?,” the girl expressed her concerns for the health of her classmates back home.
When asked how she felt about a message left by her former classmates on her birthday on the answering machine, she broke down in tears and was at a loss for words.
Shishido said people are mistaken to assume that children are too young to recognize and ponder the seriousness of the nuclear accident.
“Children are thinking about various things in their own way,” Shishido said. “I am hoping that there will be more opportunities for children to convey their thoughts.”
Despite their large numbers, often it is difficult to know how the children from Fukushima are faring in their new environment.
Those interviewed for this article asked that their full names not be printed. The same request was made by the children who contributed to the book.
Their request reflects the quandary they are in: feeling isolated in their hometown and struggling to blend into a new community.
Children’s lives in Fukushima Prefecture have been altered dramatically since the nuclear disaster. Although a year has passed since the disaster started, they still cannot play outdoors as much as they used to.
Many children were heartbroken when their close friends took refuge elsewhere.
In the book, Kanako, a 5-year-old girl in Fukushima who had just learned hiragana, wrote, “Please get rid of radiation.”
She also drew a picture of herself, wearing clothes with a heart pattern, one of her favorites, and playing under the sun.
After the nuclear accident, Kanako stopped going to a park near her home. She had played in the park almost every day, but now the ground remains covered in contaminated surface soil.
Every weekend, her parents take Kanako, her brother, a third-grader, and her sister, a first-grader, to neighboring Yamagata Prefecture where the children can play outside as much as they like.
Kanako’s mother, Yoshie (not her real name), who works as a nursery teacher, said she once considered moving to a faraway place with her children.
But she concluded that such a move was not economically viable.
Although many prefectures provide free housing for evacuees, most units are available for only two years. And there was no guarantee she would be able to find a job upon her return two years later.
The couple still had a mortgage to pay for their home built seven years ago.
Yoshie, 39, said she also considered the potential effects on her children if the family was split apart.
“There were no other choices available for us but to remain here and do everything we can do,” Yoshie said. “There are a great number of families in Fukushima Prefecture who were trapped in the same situation as us.”