KESENNUMA, Miyagi Prefecture--When the Great East Japan Earthquake struck March 11, I was covering a briefing on candidates planning to run in the elections for the prefectural assembly.
KESENNUMA, Miyagi Prefecture--When the Great East Japan Earthquake struck March 11, I was covering a briefing on candidates planning to run in the elections for the prefectural assembly.
The session held in a building housing Miyagi prefectural government offices located near the waterfront.
Seconds before 2:46 p.m., everyone's cellphones at the briefing sounded alarms in unison. They were warnings of an imminent earthquake.
Suddenly, the violent shaking of the 9.0-magnitude earthquake rocked the building.
"A tsunami is coming," said the meeting moderator. "We better take refuge."
I immediately set out by car for Kesennuma City Hall, which was on higher ground, but I changed my mind and parked my car on the third-floor rooftop parking lot of a fish market.
My watch showed it was just before 3 p.m.
About 70 people joined me on the rooftop, all of us staring out to sea for any sign of an approaching tsunami.
Kesennuma has one of the most prosperous fishing ports in the nation, with catches of tuna, bonito and Pacific saury. The port is tucked away deep in Kesennuma Bay, and with Oshima Island serving as a breakwater, it has always provided good shelter for fishing boats against storms.
At 3:26 p.m., the ebbing tide came to a complete halt.
"The tsunami is coming!" somebody shouted.
Soon, a swelling black wall of water came rolling in. I saw the prefectural office building submerged up to the second floor. The view in front of me was turned into one of surging waves washing away a car ferry, fishing boats and petroleum tanks measuring more than 10 meters in diameter.
Everyone on the rooftop was left speechless at the unfolding calamity. Snow was falling intermittently. I frantically took picture after picture of the tsunami swallowing the city.
Around 5:50 p.m., objects floating in the sea began catching fire.
We could see silhouettes of large fishing boats lit by flames and smoke at night.
Explosions were heard and a stench of burning oil filled the air.
I left the fish market rooftop the next morning, around 7:30 a.m., after watching the water subside. I was wondering where I should begin my news gathering on the catastrophe.
I headed to city hall where a contingency task force center was established. But getting there was no easy task because large stranded fishing vessels blocked the road and charred remains of boats were scattered here and there.
I finally reached the Kesennuma bureau, my office and home, shortly before noon on March 12. The bureau sat amid a mountain of debris. The office, living room and kitchen on the first floor were smeared with sludge laden with jet black oil. My computer was submerged in water. My telephone was dead.
My cellphone finally came back online in Ichinoseki in Iwate Prefecture, north of Miyagi Prefecture, when I reached there after an hour's drive. It was 25 hours after the earthquake until I could contact the Sendai general bureau.