Cafe

Over the last two days, I've been given mango tea, a can of cafe latte, an ice cream bar, and a Go-gurt. All from people who come to the assistance center. That ice cream bar and Go-gurt were probably the most expensive, given who brought them. She gave up something to bring those. Accepting thank-yous from recipients is an important part of the day. 

A lady who sells deep-fried foods came. She's an evacuee, and her business is struggling too. She expects to have a couple of slow years before business picks up again. 

But a lot of evacuees are tired of deep-fried foods. Most of the meals in the evacuation centers were deep-fried. Maybe her guess of two years will be enough to get her market back. 

One of our volunteers loves to cook for evacuation centers. He makes sure to omit heavy oily foods, and always makes plenty.  We tease him that he thinks they need a banquet. Actually, maybe they do. They sure get one. 

The very last of the centers in Iwaki City will close next week. The city originally planned to close everything by the end of June, but not everyone could find a destination. One lady said she couldn't find an apartment, and will go back to her rented house. It leaks when it rains, but she has nowhere else to go. Roofers are over-booked. Tile roofs require special skills. 

Two shy sisters, a fourth-grader and a second-grader, were among the many kids who came to the cafe. They were supposed to have gone to their lessons at a house by the beach on March 11, but the quake hit early enough to keep them from going. That house was destroyed by the wave. 

I told them I'm very glad they're alive, and so is everyone else. Their shy little smiles made my day. 

During a rare lull when there were no kids in the cafe, I picked up my knitting and sat next to some newcomers to the assistance center. Turns out that both were knitters, and had no needles or yarn. 

Once that little problem was corrected, right then and there one of them started casting on and knit a few rows of a green-and white scarf. Her fingers couldn't wait to start knitting again, and started in as soon as they touched the yarn. She was grinning from ear to ear. 

The other said she needed to measure her grandbaby first. But she was watching every single stitch her friend made. 

They were next in line to get relief goods. The man in charge of  distribution almost called their name, and then saw her happily knitting away and stopped himself. She didn't get called until she put away the knitting. Her enjoyment was just too good to interrupt. 

Mr. Distribution takes a breather in the cafe now and then, especially when the next person is deep in conversation or just looks happy and relaxed. He knows they need the time more than a few bags of stuff. 

The cafe was mobbed with kids today. Rainy day again. Balls, balloons, a pretend ice cream store, a couple of babies intent on getting back outside... Let's just say I took a nap after lunch. Can't wait for a sunny day to put up the brand-new pool that just arrived! 

In the midst of this hustle-bustle comes the quake information lady. She knows which faults are doing what, and what's predicted next. Her nuclear information is over the top. She's hovering over the line between prudence and paranoia. Sometimes her tone sounds like the quake is winning. She loaded her car again last night to be ready to evacuate. She may be right. She may not. How should anyone respond in these uncertain times? 

The little ones remind me that balloons are fun and that crayons are worth a taste-test. We all need the reminder.