On March 14, 2011, the author recalls how he instantly sensed the disaster would surpass the Hanshin Earthquake in casualties. He urged closure of the stock market, worried for his mother’s safety, and condemned incompetent leadership. In frustration at delayed responses that cost lives, he could only cry out “Damn it” thirty times.

On March 14, 2011, this blog post reflects the author’s outrage immediately following the Great East Japan Earthquake. The author, who intuitively sensed the disaster would be worse than the Great Hanshin Earthquake, expresses anger at the delayed initial response and politicians’ actions. The post questions why the prime minister couldn’t understand what was obvious to an ordinary person and argues for the necessity of preventing market chaos. It is a poignant record where personal anxiety and distrust of society intertwine.

What I and the company president I was to meet on the 11th both understood—yet what others failed to grasp—this is absurd, like a bad comic. Damn it.
2011/3/14

Those who know me understand that I almost never use the word “damn” (kuso). In fact, they have probably never heard me say it.
But this time, I feel like saying it thirty times over. Damn it. I won’t go into all the details now.

On March 11, I wrote that I did not want to do anything that would benefit the capitalist brats inhabiting the stock market.
What I meant was this: as soon as the tremors stopped, I searched online and quickly realized it was an enormous earthquake.
On top of that, my own birthplace had experienced the worst shaking. I checked the numbers—more than 6,000 had died in the Hanshin Earthquake.

For some reason, I knew this quake would cause even more deaths. That uncanny, sinister shaking was far more disturbing than the sudden crash and rattling of Hanshin.

I had arranged a meeting at 5 p.m. that day with another company president in the same building. But, worried about my hometown—and since my office has no television—I phoned to postpone, saying I would head home. He said the same.
I had said, as an example, “This must be a major earthquake on the scale of Hanshin. I rarely go home in the middle of the day, but…”
He replied, “This might be even bigger. Let’s postpone until after the holiday. Go home at once.”

Back home, I immediately searched the internet for Hanshin’s death toll: over 6,400.
I thought, “This will be over 10,000 dead. A colossal quake.” That was my intuition.

I have not written about this until today, because I also knew with certainty that on Monday, the stock market would be in chaos.

And then those images appeared on TV. Soon after, someone—who rarely calls me—phoned.
“Are you all right? I was worried, since this is Kisara-san’s hometown…”
While we spoke, an incomprehensible anger welled up in me.
If my mother, in her nursing home, was in a hopeless situation… Those idiots… etc.

I said, “○○-san, this is a disaster so severe the stock market should be closed on Monday. What kind of fool runs news about nuclear power plants at a time like this? If it were really nothing, there’d be no need to mention it. Nobody would notice. But we must prevent the market from becoming a secondary disaster.”

He replied, “Kisara-san, I think everyone understands that.”
I shot back, “They don’t understand. If they did, these past twenty years wouldn’t have turned out this way!”

Startled by my rising anger, he said, “Kisara-san, I called because I was worried about you, not to be scolded…”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. Forgive me.”
“I understand. Anyway, please hang in there.”

That was our exchange.

Today, the same man called again.
“Kisara-san, you really do have foresight. Amazing.”
“I’m sorry, I have a guest right now…”

That shaking itself had already told me this was a quake deadlier than Hanshin.
A prime minister who could not grasp what I understood—such a man is unworthy of the title.

Yesterday he appeared with tears in his eyes. To me, everything about him is false. Not that his tears were fake, but because he thinks only of himself, everything he does is delayed, confused, tangled.
And then he shows tears at the end? Give me a break.

Because of his slow initial response, many who should have been saved died.
Of course, it is highly possible my own mother was among them.

Even thirty cries of “Damn it!” hurled at the fools of this world cannot release my feelings.
Damn it. Damn it all.