BY NAOKO IWASA

At 1:10 p.m. on March 31, 2000, Mt. Usu erupted for the first time in 25 years. At the foot of Mt. Usu is the town of Abuta. Abuta is my home town. This disaster has caused great damage to my family, so I will report on the grievous condition of the people living there.

On March 28, we felt intensive volcanic earthquakes. On the next day, my mother and I took refuge in Abuta Junior High School in compliance with the instructions given by the fire department. My father worked for the fire department and he came to the refuge only to sleep at night. My elder sister was away from Abuta because she worked out of town. On the 30th, my grandmother, who lives alone in Abuta, joined us at the refuge center. But the junior high school building became cracked in many places because of the big earthquakes and we had to move to the Abuta High School.

On the morning of March 31 my uncle, who lives in Toya, drove me to Sapporo because the entrance ceremony of Sapporo University was getting close. That same afternoon Mt. Usu erupted and my mother and my grandmother had to go to a third refuge in the nearby town of Toyoura because Abuta was no longer safe. My grandmother, who is old and often goes to the hospital, suffered mentally and physically from evacuating from one place of refuge to another day after day, until she was unable to move any more. On April 2 she was hospitalized in the town of Oshamanbe. Happily, after seven days of hospitalization she recovered her health to some extent, and went to stay with her son in Sapporo. My mother who, was taking care of my grandmother, came back alone to the refuge. She lived in the fourth refuge center in Oshamanbe for about one month and a half: that is, from April 8 to May 28. My father stayed on the alert in the Toyoura branch of the fire department. Therefore, all of my family were obliged to live apart from each other.

I went to the Oshamanbe Family Sports Center to meet my mother during Golden week vacation. I heard about her limited return to our home. It was on April 15 that my mother was permitted to go back home after the eruption. It was fifteen days since she had last been there. She got off the bus and opened the door of our house with extreme apprehension. But the inside of our house remained in the same condition as my mother last saw it. But she was given only 40 minutes, so she couldn't find time for even a little rest.

On April 26, when the second limited-return was permitted, there was another big eruption. The Mt. Usu that my mother saw from the bus emitted pitch-black smoke out of one of the craters. It must have been more terrible than she had seen on TV. The people on the bus cried out in terror. Our home was safe, but she saw a strange sight through the window. She saw a kindergarten distinctly at a distance. But before the volcanic upheaval the kindergarten was not visible there. She was petrified with surprise. But she had only about two hours, so she pulled herself together and took the daily necessities out.

After I heard this story, I realized that it was much more terrible than what I saw on TV. What happened during this one month period was beyond all my imagination. I asked my mother if she had gotten tired out owing to life in the refuge. She said, "If I say 'No,' it would be a lie. To say so would have no value to my life in the refuge, but I would love to go back home. I have to keep my end up without losing my hope now." There was truth in her words. Lots of refugees must have thought the same thing.

I didn't want to go to the refuge at first because I thought the refugees might be gloomy. But I was wrong. There were people who lived there day after day, wishing to go back their home someday. They had warm smiles on their faces. I stayed at the refuge for only four days, but I learned that human beings can live with brightness in the face of adversity. Now, I do hope that the volcanic activity will come to an end and everyone can return home. We need to begin the reconstruction of my hometown.