The offices of the Japanese Consulate in Denver are downtown on the 30th floor of a 17th Street building. The office itself is inconspicuous. A metal detector just inside the front door. A small waiting room. A security guard who says, “It sure has been busy around here lately.”
I visit Tuesday, five days since the earthquake and tsunami struck mainland Japan’s northeastern coast. Five days in, and the death toll climbs, a nuclear crisis threatens, refugee centers fill. Five days in, the images still stupefy.
Consul General Kazuaki Kubo is a friendly man, diplomatic by requirement, philosophic by nature. He has been in Denver three and a half years, seeing to the needs of the 8,000 Japanese passport holders who live in Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Wyoming, doing what he can to strengthen economic, political and cultural ties between his country and ours. He will leave this post at month’s end.
He looks tired. His tie is slightly askew. He has been watching six or seven hours of television a day, and Kubo never watches television.
The earthquake struck just off the coast of Japan about 2:45 p.m. Friday in Tokyo, which was 10:45 p.m. Thursday in Denver. “The first vision told us it’s beyond any normal situation,” Kubo says. “Of course, as time passes, the real situation is more profound than the first image itself.”
By 10 a.m. Friday, the consulate staff was gathered around his conference table, analyzing official communications from the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs. None lost relatives in the disaster. The governor sent a letter of condolence. Calls poured in. Some were from Japanese seeking news about relatives. Most were from people who wanted to help. “People have been so kind and generous,” he says. “They want to help, make donations. Some were offering to adopt orphans.”
People who wish to make donations can contact the American Red Cross or the Japan America Society of Colorado. More information can be found on the consulate website at .emb-japan.go.jp.
Consul General Kubo is careful with his words and more so with his emotion, but together, we look at a map of Japan, tracing a line along the eastern coast to Ogawamachi, where he is from, and Nagano-ken, where I once lived.
I can bring nothing of my brief, long-ago life in Japan to this. I lived in the mountains far from the devastated region. I can say only that I lived among rural, reserved, conservative people not unlike those who occupy the disaster area. I’m not surprised by the stories marveling at the orderliness of the lines in the grocery stores and gas stations or at the fortitude and cooperation on display or by what is being called stoicism but may be shock.
On this subject, Kubo grows reflective. “It is true through the long history of Japan, the Japanese endured much and have been taught not to express too much emotion or sentiment, perhaps in contrast to America, where so much of the strength of the society comes from the ability of the individual to speak freely and from the many voices within the whole.”
Japanese society has been moving in this direction, he said, but “when it comes to a situation like this, people revert quickly to the older way. This way is not good all the time, and it’s not bad all the time, but it works when it comes to recovering from a disaster.”
He talks about the U.S. firebombing of Tokyo on March 10, 1945.
“More than 80,000 died in one night. This is not to compare disasters, but to say that the Japanese recovered.”
Before I leave, I ask him what the Chinese pictographs hanging on the wall say. He says: “If the harvest is rich, the people rejoice.” No, no, that’s not a good translation, he corrects himself. “A good harvest brings joy to the people.” He’s still not satisfied. “It is a basic recognition that being human is subordinate to Mother Nature, so don’t be arrogant. Be humble.”
He taps the map still lying on the desk between us. Nothing more need be said.
Tina Griego writes Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Reach her at 303-954- 2699 or tgriego@denverpost.com.
