前天晚上回到杭州。
庐山的自然风景不如黄山，更多的是人文的东西。
有了人文，有了历史，很多风景就超过了它的形式。
去了美庐、芦林一号、三叠泉、黄龙寺、植物园、白居易的花径、如琴湖、含鄱口，拜谒了陈寅恪先生的墓。
可惜没有见识到“一山藏六教”，没有看到牯岭的那些小教堂，松门别墅也没有看到。
从庐山下山之后，也就是周四。在下午去拜谒了白鹿洞书院，书院稍显破败，可能维护的费用不足吧。
周五早上，其他人都去了南昌，我租了一辆出租车，去了净土宗祖庭的东林寺。
虎溪三笑里面的虎溪居然就是一个小水渠，让我很惊讶。
罗汉堂非常精彩，还有聪明泉、果一堂、文佛塔。拍了很多莲池的照片，荷花怒放。
事前的功课没有做好，所以远公塔院等地方没有去，据说还有慧远手植的佛手樟。
圣贤之地总是寂寞的，看到白鹿洞书院还有东林寺，觉得很奇怪，现在都觉得偏僻的地方，那些先人怎么能找到，他们是怎么选中这些地方的？我很好奇。
寺内在施工，很多地方都是工地。
还有，不能踩踏门槛。
令我惊讶的是，寺内居然有火车售票处，于是买了11：14去从庐山站（也就是九江县火车站）去南昌的动车。
离开东林寺的时候，远远地拍了一张西林寺的照片，也就是《题西林壁》里的那个西林。
时间很紧张，包括在山上，也有很多地方没有太多时间驻留和细细观看。
庐山集自然风景、人文、地质研究价值为一体。
遗憾的是，没有去香炉峰，也就是李白的日照瀑布挂前川；也没有去康王谷的谷帘泉。
在东林寺买了一串佛珠，以资纪念。
还会再来吗？
如此风波不可行
2011年7月18日星期一
2011年7月3日星期日
2011年6月3日星期五
横江词
横江词
作者: 李白
人道横江好，侬道横江恶。
一风三日吹倒山，白浪高于瓦官阁。
海潮南去过寻阳，牛渚由来险马当。
横江欲渡风波恶，一水牵愁万里长。
横江西望阻西秦，汉水东连扬子津。
白浪如山那可渡，狂风愁杀峭帆人。
海神来过恶风回，浪打天门石壁开。
浙江八月何如此？涛似连山喷雪来。
横江馆前津吏迎，向余东指海云生。
郎今欲渡缘何事，如此风波不可行。
月晕天风雾不开，海鲸东蹙百川回。
惊波一起三山动，公无渡河归去来。
【横江】横江浦，安徽和县东南，古长江渡口
【峭帆】很高的船帆
【浙江】此指钱塘江
【海云生】海上升起浓云
【蹙】驱迫
【回】倒流
【公无渡河】古乐府有《公无渡河》曲，相传朝鲜有个“白首狂夫”渡河淹死，其妻追赶不及，也投河自尽。自尽前唱哀歌道“公无渡河，公竟渡河！渡河而死，当奈公何！”
作者: 李白
人道横江好，侬道横江恶。
一风三日吹倒山，白浪高于瓦官阁。
海潮南去过寻阳，牛渚由来险马当。
横江欲渡风波恶，一水牵愁万里长。
横江西望阻西秦，汉水东连扬子津。
白浪如山那可渡，狂风愁杀峭帆人。
海神来过恶风回，浪打天门石壁开。
浙江八月何如此？涛似连山喷雪来。
横江馆前津吏迎，向余东指海云生。
郎今欲渡缘何事，如此风波不可行。
月晕天风雾不开，海鲸东蹙百川回。
惊波一起三山动，公无渡河归去来。
【横江】横江浦，安徽和县东南，古长江渡口
【峭帆】很高的船帆
【浙江】此指钱塘江
【海云生】海上升起浓云
【蹙】驱迫
【回】倒流
【公无渡河】古乐府有《公无渡河》曲，相传朝鲜有个“白首狂夫”渡河淹死，其妻追赶不及，也投河自尽。自尽前唱哀歌道“公无渡河，公竟渡河！渡河而死，当奈公何！”
2011年5月28日星期六
黄达人文集引
对于基础学科,大学应该有一种平和的心态,要有“养士”的气度。对于那些以学术为生存方式的学者,大学应该给他们良好宽松的学术环境和生活空间,而不应该以量化管理来制约其创造力
□吴承学
黄达人校长文集编成后,编者命我作序。我虽感荣幸,又颇惶恐:因为我既非领导,又是后辈,何敢言序?在中国古代,“序”又可称为“引”。我就权作一引吧。引者,非引导也,引玉之谓也。我愿以一位在中山大学学习工作数十年的文科教师身份谈谈个人先睹之快。
十多年前,黄达人校长受命从西子湖走进康乐园,执掌中山大学。转瞬之间,已12年了。我们共同亲历的这一切,都已经成为历史的一页了。
在历史长河中,12年只是弹指之间,而对于百年中大来说,却不可谓短暂。这本书让我们这些一路相伴走来的中大人油然而生一种亲切感,蓦然回首,十多年走过的路又仿佛重现眼前。这种感觉就像李白诗中所描写的:“却顾所来径,苍苍横翠微。”现在,我们可以从容地站在今天所处的高度,回瞰这十多年盘旋而上的“所来之径”。这不是一条现成坦途,而是中大人自己开辟出来的道路,上面深深地留下了中大人的足迹。按照庄子的说法,事物有“迹”,有“所以迹”。“迹”,就是一般人所能见到的事物与现象。“所以迹”,就是事物、现象之形成发展的内在成因或者背后的精神与信念。这本书的珍贵之处,不仅在于记录了中山大学发展的“所来之径”,更有“所来之径”形成的背景、原因、动机与思路,为我们解读中山大学的发展与前景提供了可贵的文献。
这本书的核心是中山大学的制度设计与文化建构。大学的文化与制度是虚实相成的。制度是形而下的“器”,文化则是形而上的“道”。制度是“迹”,文化则是“所以迹”。有好的制度才能确保正常组织与运作的效率,才有规范可依。而在大学制度之上,还有大学文化。黄校长认为:文化是大学核心竞争力的最重要组成部分,对大学发展的影响是潜移默化、大道自然的,然而更为深远。所谓“大学文化”是大学的一种精神状态与特有气质,它是在一所大学长期的办学过程中积淀而成,越是有着悠久历史传统的大学,其文化的影响力就越巨大,那些无形的、约定俗成的传统总是会随时随地展现在大学的运作过程之中。这种大学文化实际上就是一种核心价值观。
黄校长不断强调“大学是一个学术共同体”、“教授就是大学”和“善待学生”三位一体的核心价值理念。这一治校理念,既是在中山大学发展过程中不断摸索出来的,也是借鉴国外数百年现代大学的经验而形成的,因此兼有现实性与超越性的品质。一方面,它直击当下中国大学行政化与社会化的要害,具有匡正时弊的现实意义,目的就是要使中山大学回归大学的本质、品格与使命。另一方面,它并不是只适应一时的权宜之计,也不是只适合一地一校的教育,它是对数百年逐步发展起来的现代大学基本理念的反思、提炼和总结,具有普适性与超越性,是一种可以超越国家与地域、制度与意识形态的价值观。在现行体制与条件下,这样的治校理念,最大程度地保障了对大学精神的追求与发挥。
如果说,黄校长的大学基本理念主要是受到西方现代大学的启发,他的思想方法则显然受到本土传统思想的影响。黄校长常说:政策的制定过程,是一个不断地寻找平衡点的过程,而在寻找平衡点这个方面,儒家的终极理想“中庸之道”可以给我们以有益的启示。黄校长甚至把中庸之道的理念投射到对于中山大学文化精神的把握之中。他有一段妙论:
人们经常将中山大学简称为“中大”,细想其中似颇有深意,按我的理解,“中”的含义有平衡、均衡、中庸等意思,在这里主要体现为“度”。“大”的含义有包容、博大、深邃、宽厚、多样化、差异性等意思,在这里主要体现为多样性与差异性。
这虽属“望文生义”,却是独具会心的睿智。我们看到近年中山大学的许多制度与理念都体现出这种允执其中、不偏不倚的中庸之道:立规矩与留空间、学科规划与学术自由、科研创新团队与孤独的思想者、国际水平与国家需求、象牙塔与发动机、自律与他律、道义与利益、学术自由与社会责任、师道尊严与善待学生……这种中国式的智慧是一种哲学,也是一种艺术。
黄校长是数学教授,又长期在以理工科见长的浙江大学工作,对文科有个逐渐理解的过程。他曾说:“初来中大时,我就被中大文科教授们的风采所吸引,他们的博学让我敬畏,觉得就算不能与文科的教授们结成知音,也一定要做他们的朋友。但是过了一段时间,我发现,在文科的领域,也许我只能做他们的学生。”他又说,他从中大文科教授那里得到许多教益,所以更为大气,更有境界。我不认为这是故作自谦之语。一位领导有无“文化”,与其专业无关,主要在他对文化的态度与胸襟。黄校长来到人文学科传统积淀深厚和具有独立、自由和宽容风气的中山大学,以敬畏之心与谦逊态度,走进文化,领略文化,引领文化,成为有激情与想象、有人文情怀的管理者,有人格魅力、有思想深度的教育家。从这个角度来讲,他受中大文化与岭南文化沾溉甚多。
一位从事理科研究的领导而能热心地支持与呵护人文学科,已属不易,而这种支持与呵护是出于对人文学科的真切理解的,就更为难得。黄校长认为,人文科学是“无用”之“大用”。虽然它不能像科学技术那样直接产生经济效应,也不能为大学排名增加多少硬指标,但是它代表着大学的品味与境界,所以是一种软实力,一种极为重要的无形资产。它的作用可能要很久才能看出来,却影响久远。鉴于此,中山大学非常强调正视学科的差异性,提倡学术的自由精神。黄校长说:对于基础学科,大学应该要有一种平和的心态,要有“养士”的气度。对于那些以学术为生存方式的学者,大学应该给他们良好宽松的学术环境和生活空间,而不应该以量化管理来制约其创造力。文科的评价有比较强的主观性,难以标准化。所以中大对于文科,相当重视“清议”。“清议”是一种纯学术的评价,是一种“共同体认同”,是一种可以经得起历史检验的“公论”,因为在真正的学者心里自有“一杆秤”。“清议”只能出于“清流”,“清流”就是一批有学术水平与学术良知的精英学者。应该让这些学者拥有更大的话语权。
我与黄校长并无深交。回想起来,黄校长掌校十多年,我到校长办公室谈话只有两次。第一次是2007年6月份,黄校长约我到中山楼谈话。《中山大学学报》社科版原主编退休,学校领导希望我能接替此任。我说,我不是中共党员,恐怕不太合适。黄校长笑着说:我们知道,不过,我们信任你。主编是一个学术岗位,只要坚持严格审稿,按照学术发展的内在规律,坚持用高水平的论文就可以了。他又强调,不要有压力,学校不会以什么转载率、引用率指标来考核学报。临别,他补充说,有什么需要可直接找他。不久,我就请见黄校长。因为学报改版和扩版,需要在原有预算外增加经费投入。我向校长递交了扩版报告,黄校长批示道:“我认为,对学报的支持也是对文科支持的重要手段。”这两次谈话总共不到半小时,干净利索,就解决了问题。在主持学报工作中,我深深感受到学校所给予的充分信任与尊重。在一次长江学者座谈会上,我发言说:对于有责任感、有担当的学者来说,信任是一种压力,最大的压力就是没有给他们具体的压力。信任不是放任,而是为之提供一个更好的空间和宽松的环境。当时,黄校长在座,我见他频频点头,意颇然之。
黄校长刚到中大时,偶尔还与年轻教师打打篮球。他球艺精良,球风硬悍,对于胜负还颇为在意,那时他是多么的魁梧健壮啊。十年过去,虽乡音无改,笑容依旧,但头发逐渐斑白萧疏。2010年6月,我和彭玉平教授主编的《中山大学文化校史》一书杀青,请黄校长赐序,他欣然俯允。在序中,他深情写道:
我与中大在一起,已经12年了,对四个校区的一草一木,已产生了深深的眷恋,与中大在一起,我充满了激情。我知道,这种激情来源于中大的历史、现在和未来,来源于中山大学的每个人,更来源于中大的文化血脉,我朝夕浸淫其间,早已成为其中不可分离的一分子。
可谓情动于中,一唱三叹。个中况味,不难读解。半年后,黄校长卸任。2010年12月23日下午,怀士堂座无虚席。黄校长作卸任演讲时,一贯从容淡定的他竟不能自持,数度哽咽。他以校长身份说的最后一句话是:“我是中大人,中山大学是我永远的精神家园。”闻者无不动容。
卸任数天后,十多位文科教授请老校长到珠江边饮酒品茗。席间,互道多年来工作中之韵事和糗事,笑语不断,举座皆欢。临别,众教授赠老校长一纸,上以秦简字体书写一颂。颂曰:
亦长亦友,达己达人。
康园一纪,百卉争春。
前人有谓:“秀才人情纸一张。”诚哉斯言。然纸薄,人情不薄。
愿康园春天永驻。
2011年3月于康乐园郁文堂
http://nf.nfdaily.cn/epaper/nfzm/content/20110526/ArticelD24002FM.htm
http://www.infzm.com/content/59613
□吴承学
黄达人校长文集编成后,编者命我作序。我虽感荣幸,又颇惶恐:因为我既非领导,又是后辈,何敢言序?在中国古代,“序”又可称为“引”。我就权作一引吧。引者,非引导也,引玉之谓也。我愿以一位在中山大学学习工作数十年的文科教师身份谈谈个人先睹之快。
十多年前,黄达人校长受命从西子湖走进康乐园,执掌中山大学。转瞬之间,已12年了。我们共同亲历的这一切,都已经成为历史的一页了。
在历史长河中,12年只是弹指之间,而对于百年中大来说,却不可谓短暂。这本书让我们这些一路相伴走来的中大人油然而生一种亲切感,蓦然回首,十多年走过的路又仿佛重现眼前。这种感觉就像李白诗中所描写的:“却顾所来径,苍苍横翠微。”现在,我们可以从容地站在今天所处的高度,回瞰这十多年盘旋而上的“所来之径”。这不是一条现成坦途,而是中大人自己开辟出来的道路,上面深深地留下了中大人的足迹。按照庄子的说法,事物有“迹”,有“所以迹”。“迹”,就是一般人所能见到的事物与现象。“所以迹”,就是事物、现象之形成发展的内在成因或者背后的精神与信念。这本书的珍贵之处,不仅在于记录了中山大学发展的“所来之径”,更有“所来之径”形成的背景、原因、动机与思路,为我们解读中山大学的发展与前景提供了可贵的文献。
这本书的核心是中山大学的制度设计与文化建构。大学的文化与制度是虚实相成的。制度是形而下的“器”,文化则是形而上的“道”。制度是“迹”,文化则是“所以迹”。有好的制度才能确保正常组织与运作的效率,才有规范可依。而在大学制度之上,还有大学文化。黄校长认为:文化是大学核心竞争力的最重要组成部分,对大学发展的影响是潜移默化、大道自然的,然而更为深远。所谓“大学文化”是大学的一种精神状态与特有气质,它是在一所大学长期的办学过程中积淀而成,越是有着悠久历史传统的大学,其文化的影响力就越巨大,那些无形的、约定俗成的传统总是会随时随地展现在大学的运作过程之中。这种大学文化实际上就是一种核心价值观。
黄校长不断强调“大学是一个学术共同体”、“教授就是大学”和“善待学生”三位一体的核心价值理念。这一治校理念,既是在中山大学发展过程中不断摸索出来的,也是借鉴国外数百年现代大学的经验而形成的,因此兼有现实性与超越性的品质。一方面,它直击当下中国大学行政化与社会化的要害,具有匡正时弊的现实意义,目的就是要使中山大学回归大学的本质、品格与使命。另一方面,它并不是只适应一时的权宜之计,也不是只适合一地一校的教育,它是对数百年逐步发展起来的现代大学基本理念的反思、提炼和总结,具有普适性与超越性,是一种可以超越国家与地域、制度与意识形态的价值观。在现行体制与条件下,这样的治校理念,最大程度地保障了对大学精神的追求与发挥。
如果说,黄校长的大学基本理念主要是受到西方现代大学的启发,他的思想方法则显然受到本土传统思想的影响。黄校长常说:政策的制定过程,是一个不断地寻找平衡点的过程,而在寻找平衡点这个方面,儒家的终极理想“中庸之道”可以给我们以有益的启示。黄校长甚至把中庸之道的理念投射到对于中山大学文化精神的把握之中。他有一段妙论:
人们经常将中山大学简称为“中大”,细想其中似颇有深意,按我的理解,“中”的含义有平衡、均衡、中庸等意思,在这里主要体现为“度”。“大”的含义有包容、博大、深邃、宽厚、多样化、差异性等意思,在这里主要体现为多样性与差异性。
这虽属“望文生义”,却是独具会心的睿智。我们看到近年中山大学的许多制度与理念都体现出这种允执其中、不偏不倚的中庸之道:立规矩与留空间、学科规划与学术自由、科研创新团队与孤独的思想者、国际水平与国家需求、象牙塔与发动机、自律与他律、道义与利益、学术自由与社会责任、师道尊严与善待学生……这种中国式的智慧是一种哲学,也是一种艺术。
黄校长是数学教授,又长期在以理工科见长的浙江大学工作,对文科有个逐渐理解的过程。他曾说:“初来中大时,我就被中大文科教授们的风采所吸引,他们的博学让我敬畏,觉得就算不能与文科的教授们结成知音,也一定要做他们的朋友。但是过了一段时间,我发现,在文科的领域,也许我只能做他们的学生。”他又说,他从中大文科教授那里得到许多教益,所以更为大气,更有境界。我不认为这是故作自谦之语。一位领导有无“文化”,与其专业无关,主要在他对文化的态度与胸襟。黄校长来到人文学科传统积淀深厚和具有独立、自由和宽容风气的中山大学,以敬畏之心与谦逊态度,走进文化,领略文化,引领文化,成为有激情与想象、有人文情怀的管理者,有人格魅力、有思想深度的教育家。从这个角度来讲,他受中大文化与岭南文化沾溉甚多。
一位从事理科研究的领导而能热心地支持与呵护人文学科,已属不易,而这种支持与呵护是出于对人文学科的真切理解的,就更为难得。黄校长认为,人文科学是“无用”之“大用”。虽然它不能像科学技术那样直接产生经济效应,也不能为大学排名增加多少硬指标,但是它代表着大学的品味与境界,所以是一种软实力,一种极为重要的无形资产。它的作用可能要很久才能看出来,却影响久远。鉴于此,中山大学非常强调正视学科的差异性,提倡学术的自由精神。黄校长说:对于基础学科,大学应该要有一种平和的心态,要有“养士”的气度。对于那些以学术为生存方式的学者,大学应该给他们良好宽松的学术环境和生活空间,而不应该以量化管理来制约其创造力。文科的评价有比较强的主观性,难以标准化。所以中大对于文科,相当重视“清议”。“清议”是一种纯学术的评价,是一种“共同体认同”,是一种可以经得起历史检验的“公论”,因为在真正的学者心里自有“一杆秤”。“清议”只能出于“清流”,“清流”就是一批有学术水平与学术良知的精英学者。应该让这些学者拥有更大的话语权。
我与黄校长并无深交。回想起来,黄校长掌校十多年,我到校长办公室谈话只有两次。第一次是2007年6月份,黄校长约我到中山楼谈话。《中山大学学报》社科版原主编退休,学校领导希望我能接替此任。我说,我不是中共党员,恐怕不太合适。黄校长笑着说:我们知道,不过,我们信任你。主编是一个学术岗位,只要坚持严格审稿,按照学术发展的内在规律,坚持用高水平的论文就可以了。他又强调,不要有压力,学校不会以什么转载率、引用率指标来考核学报。临别,他补充说,有什么需要可直接找他。不久,我就请见黄校长。因为学报改版和扩版,需要在原有预算外增加经费投入。我向校长递交了扩版报告,黄校长批示道:“我认为,对学报的支持也是对文科支持的重要手段。”这两次谈话总共不到半小时,干净利索,就解决了问题。在主持学报工作中,我深深感受到学校所给予的充分信任与尊重。在一次长江学者座谈会上,我发言说:对于有责任感、有担当的学者来说,信任是一种压力,最大的压力就是没有给他们具体的压力。信任不是放任,而是为之提供一个更好的空间和宽松的环境。当时,黄校长在座,我见他频频点头,意颇然之。
黄校长刚到中大时,偶尔还与年轻教师打打篮球。他球艺精良,球风硬悍,对于胜负还颇为在意,那时他是多么的魁梧健壮啊。十年过去,虽乡音无改,笑容依旧,但头发逐渐斑白萧疏。2010年6月,我和彭玉平教授主编的《中山大学文化校史》一书杀青,请黄校长赐序,他欣然俯允。在序中,他深情写道:
我与中大在一起,已经12年了,对四个校区的一草一木,已产生了深深的眷恋,与中大在一起,我充满了激情。我知道,这种激情来源于中大的历史、现在和未来,来源于中山大学的每个人,更来源于中大的文化血脉,我朝夕浸淫其间,早已成为其中不可分离的一分子。
可谓情动于中,一唱三叹。个中况味,不难读解。半年后,黄校长卸任。2010年12月23日下午,怀士堂座无虚席。黄校长作卸任演讲时,一贯从容淡定的他竟不能自持,数度哽咽。他以校长身份说的最后一句话是:“我是中大人,中山大学是我永远的精神家园。”闻者无不动容。
卸任数天后,十多位文科教授请老校长到珠江边饮酒品茗。席间,互道多年来工作中之韵事和糗事,笑语不断,举座皆欢。临别,众教授赠老校长一纸,上以秦简字体书写一颂。颂曰:
亦长亦友,达己达人。
康园一纪,百卉争春。
前人有谓:“秀才人情纸一张。”诚哉斯言。然纸薄,人情不薄。
愿康园春天永驻。
2011年3月于康乐园郁文堂
http://nf.nfdaily.cn/epaper/nfzm/content/20110526/ArticelD24002FM.htm
http://www.infzm.com/content/59613
2011年5月12日星期四
社论：躺在时间的河流上怀念他们
今天是汶川地震三周年纪念日，读者诸君一定知道我们的哀悼所在。那场大地震令山河破碎，八万多人罹难失踪，连绵不绝的哀伤延续至今。哀伤是为同胞一去不还，五月就此成为悲哀的月份；哀伤也因为念及自身无力，不能抵挡决绝的离逝。又一年祭祀重来，躺在时间的河流上怀念他们，实有必要确认诸多问题：他们是谁？他们遇到了什么？他们在哪里？他们想要我们做什么？
馨香几枝，烟气袅袅，升腾至虚空。他们不是冰冷的数字，他们也曾顶着百家姓活泼泼地存在过。他们用整整一生，走进五月的废墟。他们开心地在世上生活过七年，抑或更长更短的岁月。他们是父母，是子女，是姐妹，是兄弟，是黄皮肤的人。他们是寨子里的居民和过客，是跋涉山川河流的人，看云起云落，他们是一切真情。他们是你遇见或未见的人类，是住在大地上的灵魂。
生是偶然的，死亡是必然。三年前的今天，同个时刻，下午黄昏黑夜如朽木，纷纷落下，壅塞时间的河流。红色是血，灰色是扬尘，白色是眩晕，黑色是死神的衣袂，他们在颜色横流中倒下，像是不幸的庄稼，被锐利的刀锋杀害。他们失去了所有，他们的老年中年青年或童年时代结束得太早太快。他们成了各种各样碎片，使用尖锐的边缘，把日子割出眼泪，将故乡抛弃。
他们从四方而来，往八方而去。我们悔恨，他们本该有更好的死亡方式，譬如从容悼念，并且允许泪飞成雨。匆匆复匆匆，他们永远离开伤感的村庄和城市，他们现在石头长有新绿的山坡上，他们仍在学校，在路上，在地下，在无名之处。他们和他们在一起，就像麦子与麦子长在一起。在夏天，在他们最后的黄昏去了我们看不见的地方，他们是生者唯一的痛楚，唯一的安慰。
我们在心里为他们降过半旗，我们在哀悼日为他们招魂请安，我们搜集过他们一世为人的证据，我们一起念出过他们的名字。我们答应过要念念不忘，要生生不息。我们做了很多，又做得太少。迷途不返的人，你们在哪里？我们点燃的光能否照亮你们的路？我们无法做得更多，只好摆上铁做的十二生肖，敬上瓷做的瓜子，象征且祭奠你们凝固了的生命。你们还想要我们做什么？
我们知道，死亡已经发生，而遗忘等候一旁，觊觎他们的再一次死亡。如果不怀念，遗忘就会越来越强大。今天的祭祀就是为了拒绝遗忘，拒绝再次失去他们。以后的纪念，目的无他，也是一遍遍证明给他们看：我们从未远离，我们一直在一起，哪怕是遇到死亡和恐惧。这是一种要被记取的承诺，人千古，人又永远在。这是我们对整座村落、整座城市、良知国民的交代。
起于尘土而又归于尘土，可有一种责任无法推卸。这就是我们对他们的纪念，是校园对学生的纪念，山野对农夫的纪念，黄泥雕群对凝视者的纪念，是家庭对逝者的纪念，是鲜花对坟墓的纪念，是生命对生命的纪念。我们始终不忘，始终向着他们的方向眺望。我们的生活里有他们，我们不只是为自己过活。时间的河流联系彼此，让我们重聚在一起，就像是真的没有失去过。
止歇欢娱，今天此时，让我们躺在时间的河流上，采用他们惯常的姿势，感知他们的所在和请求，察觉我们的对话与诺言。在他们走后，没有一个夜晚能让我们安睡。可三年来，我们谨记并警醒我们的原则。五月是悲哀的，又是清醒的。通过对他们的取态，丈量我们与人类的距离。祝愿大地上的神祇同样能保佑他们，就像他们保佑我们一样。祈祷彼岸乐土。伏食尚飨。
馨香几枝，烟气袅袅，升腾至虚空。他们不是冰冷的数字，他们也曾顶着百家姓活泼泼地存在过。他们用整整一生，走进五月的废墟。他们开心地在世上生活过七年，抑或更长更短的岁月。他们是父母，是子女，是姐妹，是兄弟，是黄皮肤的人。他们是寨子里的居民和过客，是跋涉山川河流的人，看云起云落，他们是一切真情。他们是你遇见或未见的人类，是住在大地上的灵魂。
生是偶然的，死亡是必然。三年前的今天，同个时刻，下午黄昏黑夜如朽木，纷纷落下，壅塞时间的河流。红色是血，灰色是扬尘，白色是眩晕，黑色是死神的衣袂，他们在颜色横流中倒下，像是不幸的庄稼，被锐利的刀锋杀害。他们失去了所有，他们的老年中年青年或童年时代结束得太早太快。他们成了各种各样碎片，使用尖锐的边缘，把日子割出眼泪，将故乡抛弃。
他们从四方而来，往八方而去。我们悔恨，他们本该有更好的死亡方式，譬如从容悼念，并且允许泪飞成雨。匆匆复匆匆，他们永远离开伤感的村庄和城市，他们现在石头长有新绿的山坡上，他们仍在学校，在路上，在地下，在无名之处。他们和他们在一起，就像麦子与麦子长在一起。在夏天，在他们最后的黄昏去了我们看不见的地方，他们是生者唯一的痛楚，唯一的安慰。
我们在心里为他们降过半旗，我们在哀悼日为他们招魂请安，我们搜集过他们一世为人的证据，我们一起念出过他们的名字。我们答应过要念念不忘，要生生不息。我们做了很多，又做得太少。迷途不返的人，你们在哪里？我们点燃的光能否照亮你们的路？我们无法做得更多，只好摆上铁做的十二生肖，敬上瓷做的瓜子，象征且祭奠你们凝固了的生命。你们还想要我们做什么？
我们知道，死亡已经发生，而遗忘等候一旁，觊觎他们的再一次死亡。如果不怀念，遗忘就会越来越强大。今天的祭祀就是为了拒绝遗忘，拒绝再次失去他们。以后的纪念，目的无他，也是一遍遍证明给他们看：我们从未远离，我们一直在一起，哪怕是遇到死亡和恐惧。这是一种要被记取的承诺，人千古，人又永远在。这是我们对整座村落、整座城市、良知国民的交代。
起于尘土而又归于尘土，可有一种责任无法推卸。这就是我们对他们的纪念，是校园对学生的纪念，山野对农夫的纪念，黄泥雕群对凝视者的纪念，是家庭对逝者的纪念，是鲜花对坟墓的纪念，是生命对生命的纪念。我们始终不忘，始终向着他们的方向眺望。我们的生活里有他们，我们不只是为自己过活。时间的河流联系彼此，让我们重聚在一起，就像是真的没有失去过。
止歇欢娱，今天此时，让我们躺在时间的河流上，采用他们惯常的姿势，感知他们的所在和请求，察觉我们的对话与诺言。在他们走后，没有一个夜晚能让我们安睡。可三年来，我们谨记并警醒我们的原则。五月是悲哀的，又是清醒的。通过对他们的取态，丈量我们与人类的距离。祝愿大地上的神祇同样能保佑他们，就像他们保佑我们一样。祈祷彼岸乐土。伏食尚飨。
2011年5月2日星期一
2011年4月13日星期三
日本小城市长的生死抉择
按：今天在WSJ看到一篇感人至深的文章，特录于此。
日本小城市长的生死抉择
2011年 04月 13日 08:52
在那场毁灭性的地震撼动陆前高田市(Rikuzentakata)市政厅之前的几分钟，市长刀羽太(Futoshi Toba)（本文所有人名均为音译）正在享受一个安静的周五下午时光。自从担任这座沿海小城的市长以来，他已经几乎连续不间断地工作了一个月。
3月11日下午2点40分，他给妻子久美(Kumi)打了个电话，提议晚上带两个年幼的儿子去吃烧烤。她答应马上给他写电子邮件回复去不去。
这个谈话很简短，但是，命运有时候不给人细说的机会。
2点46分，距日本东北部沿海约60英里的海底发生的9级强震使陆前高田市猛烈晃动起来，毁坏了电力和通讯设备。此后不久，一堵超过40英尺高的黑色水墙冲过了20英尺高的海堤，涌入市中心。
刀羽太和几十位本地居民急忙冲上市政厅的房顶，这是一座位于市中心的钢骨混凝土结构的四层建筑。海啸引发的洪水漫过了这座建筑物的顶层。
卡车和公共汽车被巨浪抛掷得来回翻滚。在大浪冲击下，房屋与地基分离，漂向大海，屋里的人们惊叫着寻求帮助。
刀羽太说，“当我回首遥望自家方向时，只能看见所有的房屋都被冲毁。木头碎裂的声音响彻天际。”
刀羽太现年46岁，他的两个儿子——12岁的大河(Taiga)和10岁的奏多(Kanato)——当时正在位于山顶的学校里，得以躲过了海啸。但是，他的妻子像往常一样呆在地势更接近海平面的家中。
他说，“我曾想过抛开所有人，不顾一切地跳进车里，冲回家救她。但我真的不能这么做。”他解释说，作为市长所肩负的职责要求他把同事们带到安全地带。他当时一直在想，但愿她能逃脱险境。
当海浪最终开始退却时，陆前高田市已经被毁坏得面目全非，破烂的汽车、碎裂的木头和扭曲的钢筋交织在一起。银行被冲走了，加油站没了，杂货店没了，医院也没了。有超过2300人死亡或失踪，占当地人口的十分之一。
一个月后，刀羽太发现自己需要应付令人左右为难的复杂局面并肩负重任，因为日本要努力从现代历史上最严重的一场自然灾害中恢复过来，日本的领导者们正在讨论如何（甚至是否要）重建这个经济已经在急剧下滑的地区。刀羽太和其他当地政治家做出的决策很有可能就决定了遭受沉重打击的东北部沿海地区的命运：究竟是顽强地活下去并繁荣发展，还是从此一蹶不振？
在以往的天灾（比如1995年摧毁港口城市神户的大地震，还有1923年造成东京地区逾10万人死亡的大地震）过后，日本很快进行了重建。但是，分布在崎岖海岸线上的陆前高田及其他乡镇的情况和这些大城市很不一样。
在灾难发生前，这个地区早就陷入了困境：年轻人去其他地方谋求更好的生活，留下的只是一些老年人和夕阳产业。对这个地区持悲观看法的人认为，投资重建这些江河日下的城镇不符合经济学原理。
在最近的一个周六的下午，刀羽太正在设在该市一所学校的中央厨房内的一个临时指挥所开展工作。他说，“在这种情况下，领导人确实很难当。我们必须一切从头开始。”
刀羽太经常在指挥中心门外的人行道上来回踱步，穿着一身借来的衣服（一件市政工人的制服、米色的风衣和配套的长裤，再加上一双黑色的锐步运动鞋），抽着越来越稀缺的超醇万宝路(Marlboro Ultralights)，他不时拿起挂在脖子上的手机，联络中央和地方官员，努力寻求帮助。
到目前为止他取得的成果包括：为陆前高田市剩余的一些汽车讨来能够多跑几天的汽油，或者为依然无家可归的1万名市民争取生活补给品。从某种角度来看，这些成果只是突显了摆在他面前的任务的艰巨性。
尽管刀羽太全身心地投入到改善这座城市悲惨境况的工作中，但这并不能使他完全忘记自己和久美、大河及奏多一家人的生活发生的剧变。两个孩子目前和刀羽太的叔叔呆在一起。身为市长的父亲尽量抽空去看望儿子，但是在大多数夜晚，他都是睡在临时指挥中心办公桌旁边的地板上。
他也没有回过位于市区的家中，只是在灾难发生后匆匆地望了一眼。在那么远的距离下，他只能依稀辨认出他家房屋的外框依然挺立，但有另一所房子的屋顶搭在他家房屋的屋顶上。
在他家的房屋里面，充满了令人痛苦的印迹：在一楼的衣橱里，挂着一件沾满泥浆的外套和一些领带。地板上散落着照片，其中包括身穿灰色西装的刀羽和久美在结婚当天的照片。在另一张被污泥弄脏的照片中，他的妻子久美身穿袖子是青绿色的白色T恤、黑发齐肩，笑容满面，臂弯里揽着他们的一个孩子。
几周以来，刀羽太一直非常繁忙，都没有时间去停尸所看看久美是否在那儿。其实他也很害怕自己可能看到的一幕。
在上个月月底的时候，这位市长说，“作为一个丈夫，我想去寻找我的妻子，但我必须领导灾后恢复工作。这里的许多人都面临相同的境况。”
陆前高田市有人居住的历史已经有一千年了。穿过一个被群山环绕的平原，就可以看到大海，当地著名的特产有扇贝、海胆和一种品种特别的牡蛎，这种牡蛎在东京的餐馆可以卖到五美元一只。在沙质海滩边是一片松树林，曾被日本政府列为日本最美的100处景点之一。
这座城市历史上也曾发生过海啸。1960年由智利地震引起的海啸导致当地八人丧生，海水淹没了该市靠近海滩的地区。
但是，从来没有哪一次海啸能与3月11日发生的这一次相提并论。
那些冲出门警告居民的市政官员被海浪冲走了。一位市长顾问试图带着一位老奶奶一起转移，但他很快就意识到背着她跑不快，两人都无法逃生。他只好把她放在市政厅二楼的台阶上，抱歉地说，“对不起，奶奶。”然后匆忙跑上顶楼。后来，他再也没有见到这位老奶奶。
海啸冲垮了市区被当作紧急避难所的一个运动中心的后墙，在这里寻求避难的几十个人几乎全部被淹死。
两位消防员爬上消防局屋顶的一个了望塔。最终，在夜幕降临前，直升飞机救起了这两名男子，并将其他一些幸存者从市区的屋顶转移到安全地带。多处煤气罐爆炸，引发了熊熊烈火。
下午7点左右，天开始下雪。一些幸存者收集碎木块，燃起一堆篝火取暖，同时也是向救援人员发出信号。市长和他的助手们围在一台收音机前，收听最新的灾情公报。
余震持续了一整夜，咆哮的海浪一次次地涨起又落下。刀羽太称，他担心整座建筑物会倒塌。大家只能祈祷白天快点来临。
黎明时分，陆前高田市开始统计令人震惊的伤亡人数。它是日本受灾最严重的城市之一。在大约23,000位居民当中，有超过1,100人被证实死亡，有近1,200人失踪，估计已经死亡。在一个体育馆设立的临时停尸所里有成百上千具遗体还没有被确认身份。
警察局长、市议会的两名议员和三位学校的高级官员在海啸中丧生。三分之一的市政工人遇难。
许多幸存者质疑自己是否应该继续留在这里。现年55岁的建筑工人须藤明(Akira Suto)说，他无法忘记，当他和82岁的母亲携手跑出家门试图逃走时，冰冷的海浪墙将他打翻在地，冲开了他和母亲紧握在一起的两只手。
他说，母亲在被海浪卷走前喘息着说，“一切都结束了。”她的遗体至今仍未找到。
现在，须藤明和他的妻子及两个孩子暂住在一所学校体育馆内的一个紧急避难所。他说，他想留在陆前高田市。但事实上，他不知道这是不是有可能。
就连商业社团的中流砥柱都在动摇。
Suisen清酒酿造厂的总裁今野保彦(Yasuhiko Konno)说，他尚未决定是否在市区的场址重建他公司的酿酒厂。海浪将酿酒厂冲击得千疮百孔，用来储藏清酒的巨大绿色金属罐被冲得四处漂散，最远的漂到了三英里外的地方。Suisen是陆前高田市规模最大的企业之一。
现年64岁的今野保彦是本地人。他说，“我们在这里建厂是为了盈利，我不得不怀疑陆前高田市在遭受如此严重的损伤之后还能否复原。在四周别无他物的情况下建造一家清酒厂显然是不智之举。”
市长刀羽太将劝说人们留下视为其工作当中很重要的一个部分。他希望能从中央和县级政府获得足够的帮助，在具有带头作用的市民离开前向他们展示重建进展。
他一直在努力劝说将于今年退休的公务员推迟卸任时间，以确保有足够的人力开展重建工作。
刀羽太说，“这座城市的规模可能会比以前小一些。”他的妻子不在了，但他的儿子还活着，他希望当他们长大时，陆前高田市依然还在。
他说，“当我看着儿子们的小脸蛋时，我知道自己必须继续坚持下去。这是我的使命，我必须去完成那些需要做的工作。”
18年前当刀羽太来到陆前高田市时，他做梦也想不到会有今天这样的遭遇。
刀羽太出生在东京附近，在28岁时迁居到这座海边小城。低迷的经济使身为电脑程式师的他很难在首都谋生。他选择陆前高田市是因为这里是他父亲的出生地和家园，他说他很快就爱上了这里的自然美景和悠闲自在的感觉。
刚到这座小城，他就在一家本地的家禽加工厂找到了工作。在这里，他遇见了久美，她出生在北边的另一座海滨小城。
久美比他小七岁，拥有优雅美丽的容貌和一头乌黑的秀发，看起来比她的实际年龄还要年轻一些。当他们在一家珠宝店挑选订婚戒指时，一位店员问他是不是在帮女儿买戒指。
他说，“即使是现在，她看起来也就20多岁的样子。”
刀羽太回忆道，她喜欢收藏美国火皇(Fire-King)古董玻璃器皿，还喜欢制作手工艺品。她会制作压花图案的皮革手机链，还和她的朋友一起在临时摊位出售这些小饰品。
她从未质疑过她丈夫做出的成为一位政治家的决定，尽管她实际上并不喜欢政治。他说，她选择了容忍和迁就。
刀羽太说，从政甚至也不是他本人的想法。他的父亲在政界工作，在几年前的一次市议会选举之时，他父亲帮忙组织造势，要他出来参选。有一天当他回到家时，发现有150来个老街坊看着他，然后开始鼓掌，他都不知道发生了什么事。
刀羽老先生大约在10年前去世。他向他的儿子保证，他不需要做很多事，只需张贴一些竞选海报就可以。但是他还没来得及看到儿子参与竞选以及向人群发表讲话的场面。
进入市议会后，刀羽太把闲暇时间用来走访街坊四邻，和他们闲谈，关注他们的需求。
然而，他很快意识到，如果他只是市议会的一名成员，他的办事能量就会受到限制。他说，“我总是在想，有朝一日，即使只是当个小村长，我也要按照我所认为的最佳方式来打造它。”
他当了几年的副市长。然后，市长生病了，决定卸任。当刀羽太告诉妻子他想竞选市长时，她只说了一句，“好的，我理解你。”
刀羽太的竞选口号是消减该市数年大举支出之后累积的债务。他希望将陆前高田市的海滨发展为度假胜地和退休养老胜地，以吸引更多富裕的日本老年居民。
在2月份赢得选举后，他就开始忙于准备市政预算，礼节性地拜会了当地的达官显贵。他知道自己陪伴妻子的时间不多，但总觉得以后会有时间的。
在灾难发生后，刀羽太的市长日程暂时被放在了一边。最初几天，他只能努力让自己保持平静。他不知道他的妻子在哪里，但是，考虑到此次灾难带来的破坏程度，以及成百上千位被埋在瓦砾堆下的失踪人员，他不能去寻找自己的妻子。
在重重残骸物的阻隔下，他无法靠近自己的家，而且有政府的搜救队在对这个地区进行地毯式搜索。
在供电中断、救济品严重匮乏以及成千上万的灾民急需救助的情况下，这位元市长决定把精力集中在他所能做的事情上：帮助幸存者。
刀羽太请求他的朋友们制作尽可能多的饭团并分发出去。他要求士兵清理道路，这样更多的救灾物资就可以被运送进来。几周后回想起来，他并不能确定有时候自己在做什么，大部分回忆是一片模糊。
在灾难发生一周后，食品和饮用水开始更加定期地运抵当地，还有军队帮助分发。但是，对牙刷和纸尿裤这些基本生活用品的需求仍然得不到满足。
当时，刀羽太说，任何关于恢复该市渔业或其他重建工作的想法看起来都遥不可及。燃眉之急是获得汽油，以及确保老年人有足够的药品。
为了使政府官员相信他需要更多的説明，刀羽太邀请东京的一位议员在该市的一个紧急疏散中心过夜。这位议员开始抱怨国家的救援工作进展缓慢。当刀羽太提出邀请日本首相在灾难发生三周后访问陆前高田市时，这位议员考虑了一下，说道，“现在，他会来的。”
随着日子的推移，一套新的工作程式开始形成。每天下午，刀羽太都会心情沉重地就该市的最新伤亡资料与记者召开简短的新闻发布会，更新已经找到遗体的遇难者名单。他没有太多的时间去想他的妻子，甚至孩子，仅仅是有时会和他们通个电话。
市政府的幸存人员在一所学校的厨房里成立了指挥部，征用了一些电脑来办公。消防和员警部门的临时驻地则设在停车场一带。由于没有自来水，就在后面挖掘了一条沟渠作为公共厕所。
刀羽太不停地给县级官员打电话，敦促他们开始建设临时房屋，这一点对于防止居民流失至关重要。日本首相菅直人(Naoto Kan)一度要求刀羽太也要做好准备，暂时将居民转移到受灾程度较轻的内陆城市，但是刀羽太拒绝了这个要求。
刀羽太说，“我们有联系非常紧密的社区。我们需要把人聚集在一起。”
3月26日，建设活动终于开始了，这使陆前高田市成为最先开始建造临时房屋的城市之一。一大群建筑工人将首批带有室内抽水马桶和取暖装置的36间活动板房组装在一起，很快就竖立在作为紧急避难所的一所中学门前。有1,000多人参加了市政府组织的抽签，以决定房屋的归属。那些幸运的极少数中签者可以在4月10日搬进这些活动板房。
刀羽太还取得了其他一些小小的胜利：在和当地一家制衣厂的老板会晤后，他获得了该厂捐赠的一批女士内衣，这正是暂住在避难所内的女士们所急需的东西。
当紧急救助的急迫性开始下降后，陆前高田市面临的无比艰难的挑战就变得显而易见了。
该市的桥梁、道路和铁路网都被黑浪破坏或损毁。市区电网被摧毁。一家在10年前耗资约2亿美元建造的污水处理厂消失得无影无踪。耗费巨资修建的宽大的海啸防护墙曾经保护过这座城市，但现在已经沦为废墟。在防护墙得到重建之前，可能要采取其他替代措施来保护这座城市与海平面齐平的地区了。
存放在市政厅的几乎所有档资料都被毁坏。合同、设计图和最近的缴税凭证都被冲走了。官员们不得不根据从游客手册上撕下来的地图评估损失，修理城市道路和桥梁。
一些市政建筑（包括市政厅、一所消防局和一个运动中心）依然挺立不倒，但也被严重损坏，必须予以拆除。刀羽太正在努力筹集爆破所需的资金。他说，如果由市政府自己来出这笔钱，那么就没有任何余钱用来建造新设施了。
自1970年以来，陆前高田市的人口一直在不断缩减，超过三分之一的市民是65岁以上的老人，而整个日本的老年人比例为20%。过去，该市为了吸引更多游客而兴建了一些项目，这笔支出所带来的债务负担将使重建计划受到限制。被此次海啸冲毁的一座贝壳博物馆就是此类项目之一。
当地官员还没有开始计算总的损失。虽然东京方面可能会帮助筹集重建资金，但资金到位的具体时间和具体金额还不得而知。
重建需要创新精神。一个周六的下午，刀羽太一边用手指梳理着日渐稀疏的头发一边说道，“我们需要采取一些激烈的举措。”过度的劳累使他的面孔看起来无精打采。
他说，一个选择是把市区周围一座高山的山顶推平，以建造更多的山顶住宅区，然后用多下来的泥土把整个市区的海拔高度提升60英尺。但现在还不知道由谁来付这笔钱。
刀羽太早些时为陆前高田市设定的发展旅游业的宏伟计划看起来是更加不可能实现了。矗立在白色沙滩边的数万棵松树曾使陆前高田市成为旅游胜地，但现在都被海啸冲毁了，只剩下了孤零零的一棵。
在劝说居民留下的过程中，这位市长找到了一些同盟者，现年35岁的佐佐木隆(Takashi Sasaki)就是其中之一。佐佐木隆在几年前离开陆前高田市，到东京找了份电脑系统工程师的工作。但是，和大部分同伴不一样的是，他于去年返回家乡，帮助他父亲经营一个家族印刷企业。
3月11日，佐佐木隆用他的数码相机将海啸视频上传到互联网。当他看到海浪如此可怕之后，就和父亲松尾(Matsuo)跑进了市政厅。然后，他们和市长一起在市政厅的顶楼度过了一夜。
佐佐木隆的母亲、姨母和祖母都遇难了。佐佐木隆称，尽管搜寻了好几天，但他没能找到他家的房屋和家族印刷厂留下的任何痕迹。
佐佐木隆称，尽管失去了一切，他还是决定留在这座城市，并参与重建。
在海啸发生一个月后，刀羽太的努力终于取得了明显的成果，因为有越来越多的市民在他的带领下开始恢复正常的生活。上周，这座小城重新开设了第一家派出所，这种小型员警站是大多数日本社区必须配备的机构。
岩手银行(Bank of Iwate)在附近的一个拖车上开设了一家临时分行，每天营业四个小时。在街道拐角处的一个预制棚里，该市的商会开设了一个办公室，以帮助当地企业。
然而，在这座城市地势较低的盆地，仍然有数量惊人的工作要做。一些碎石堆已经被移开，以便为汽车和运送土方的设备开辟道路。但是，陆前高田市的大部分地方看起来还是像一个巨大的垃圾填埋场。
4月5日，这位市长接到了一个能让他把所有的一切都抛诸脑后的电话。停尸所里有一具遗体很像他的妻子久美，此前一天正是久美的39岁生日。这位女士的遗体是在离他们家约2,000英尺的高地被发现的。
接到电话后的几个小时，刀羽太一直没有勇气离开办公室。最后，他终于来到了停尸所。遗体已经被严重损坏，但确实是久美。
他不知道该如何把这个消息告诉他的两个儿子，他不愿意让他们看到这个样子的母亲，不希望他们以这种方式来记住他们的母亲。他说，“对他们来说，她就像是一位朋友。由于我总是很忙，他们有问题的时候总是跑去找他们的母亲。”
站在妻子的遗体前，他为自己未能去找她而向她道歉。他告诉她，作为市长所肩负的责任使他不能去找她
事后，刀羽太说，“每当我想到这一点时，真的会质疑自己到底是一个什么样的人。”
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
（本文版权归道琼斯公司所有，未经许可不得翻译或转载。）
http://cn.wsj.com/gb/20110413/bas085401.asp
Minutes before a violent earthquake convulsed City Hall, Futoshi Toba was enjoying a quiet Friday afternoon after a month of nearly nonstop work since becoming mayor of this small coastal city.
He called his wife, Kumi, at 2:40 p.m., March 11, to suggest they take their two young sons to a barbecue place for dinner. She promised that she'd email him soon to let him know.
The conversation wasn't much, but fate doesn't always allow for eloquence.
At 2:46, tremors from the magnitude-9 earthquake about 60 miles offshore convulsed Rikuzentakata, knocking out electricity and phones. Soon afterwards, a wall of black water more than 40 feet high smashed through the 20-foot high seawall and poured into the heart of the city.
Mr. Toba and dozens of local residents scrambled up the stairs to the roof of the four-story City Hall, a steel-reinforced concrete building downtown. The tsunami sent water surging as high as the building's top floor.
Trucks and buses were tossed end over end. Houses, pulled loose from their foundations, floated toward the sea, the people inside screaming for help.
'When I looked back in the direction of my home, I just saw all the houses being crushed,' Mr. Toba said. 'The sound of the wood splintering was so loud.'
Mr. Toba's sons, Taiga, 12, and Kanato, 10, were at a hilltop school, and escaped the tsunami. But his wife was at home, closer to sea level, as she usually was during the day.
'I considered just ignoring everyone, hopping in my car, and rushing to get her. But I really couldn't do that,' he said, explaining that his duties as mayor required him to lead his colleagues to safety. 'I was thinking the whole time: 'I hope she was able to get away.'' By the time the waves finally started to recede, Rikuzentakata had been reduced to a tangle of smashed cars, shattered wood and twisted steel. The banks were washed away. Gas stations, gone. Grocery stores, gone. Hospital, gone.
More than 2,300 people -- a tenth of the population here -- were dead or missing.
A month later, Mr. Toba finds himself in a role of bewildering complexity and responsibility, as Japan struggles to recover from the worst natural disaster of its modern history and its leaders debate how -- and even whether -- to rebuild a part of the country that was already in steep decline. The decisions Mr. Toba and other local politicians make now may well determine whether the hard-hit areas on the northeast coast survive and thrive, or never recover.
After past disasters -- the 1995 earthquake that wrecked the port city of Kobe and the 1923 quake that killed more than 100,000 around Tokyo -- Japan rebuilt quickly. But the situation in Rikuzentakata and other communities along the craggy shoreline here is far different.
The region had been in trouble long before the disaster: Many young people had gone in search of a better life elsewhere, leaving behind an aging population and dying industries. Pessimists question the economic logic of investing to rebuild its shrinking towns and cities.
'It's hard to be a leader in a situation like this,' the 46-year-old Mr. Toba said one recent Saturday afternoon, as he worked from a temporary command post in the office of the city schools' central kitchen. 'We are going to have to start again from scratch.'
Dressed in borrowed clothes -- a city-worker uniform with a beige windbreaker, matching pants and a pair of black Reebok sneakers -- Mr. Toba can often be found pacing the pavement outside his command center, smoking a dwindling supply of Marlboro Ultralights and cajoling national and regional officials over a mobile phone that hangs from a strap around his neck.
His successes so far -- like scrounging enough fuel to keep some of Rikuzentakata's remaining cars running a few days more, or securing supplies for the 10,000 citizens who remain homeless here -- in some ways only underscore the daunting scale of the task ahead.
Mr. Toba's preoccupation with the town's misery can't completely obliterate what has happened to his own life with Kumi and Taiga and Kanato. The boys are staying with Mr. Toba's uncle. The mayor sees them when he can, but most nights he sleeps on the floor beside his desk in the makeshift command center.
He hasn't returned to his house downtown, either, aside from a quick glimpse soon after the disaster. He could only get close enough to make out that its shell was still standing, but the roof of another home had come to rest atop it.
Inside, his home is filled with painful reminders: A mud-covered jacket and some ties hang in a first-floor closet. The floor is littered with photos, including pictures of a younger Mr. Toba in a gray suit with Kumi on their wedding day. In another mud-stained picture, his wife -- in a white T-shirt with turquoise sleeves and black shoulder-length hair -- wraps her arms around one of the children and laughs.
For weeks, Mr. Toba had been too busy to visit the morgue to see if Kumi was there. He also dreaded what he might find.
'As a husband, I'd like to go search for my wife, but I need to lead the way on the recovery effort,' the mayor said late last month. 'Many people here are in the same situation.'
Rikuzentakata has been inhabited for 1,000 years. Spread out across a plain surrounded by mountains running down to the sea, it drew fame for its scallops, sea urchins and a special breed of oysters that sold for as much as $5 a piece in Tokyo restaurants. A wooded area with pine trees along its sandy beach was once declared by the government to be one of Japan's 100 most beautiful sights.
The city also has a history of tsunamis. One touched off in 1960 by an earthquake in Chile killed eight people and inundated parts of the city near the beach.
But there had never been anything remotely like the waves that struck on March 11.
City officials who had rushed out to warn residents were washed away. One of the mayor's advisers tried carrying an elderly woman, but quickly realized he wouldn't be able to run fast enough with her on his back. He left her behind on a second-floor stair landing in City Hall. 'Sorry grandma,' he said, before dashing up to the roof. He never saw her again.
The tsunami blew out the rear wall of a downtown sports center that had been designated as an emergency refuge, drowning nearly all of the dozens of people who sought shelter there.
Two firemen clung to a watch tower atop a fire station. Helicopters eventually rescued the men and pulled some other survivors to safety from downtown rooftops before darkness fell. Exploding gas cylinders sent up plumes of flame.
At around 7 p.m., it started to snow. Some survivors gathered up debris and started a bonfire for warmth and to provide a beacon for any rescuers. The mayor and his aides huddled around a radio, listening to news bulletins.
Aftershocks continued through the night, and roiling waves swept in and out. Mr. Toba said he feared the entire building would collapse. 'We were just praying for daylight.'
At dawn, Rikuzentakata began to assess the staggering human toll. It was one of the worst-hit Japanese cities. Of its roughly 23,000 inhabitants, more than 1,100 are confirmed dead. Nearly 1,200 are missing and presumed killed. Hundreds of bodies in the temporary morgue set up in a gymnasium remain unidentified.
The police chief, two members of the city council and the three top school officials perished in the tsunami. One-third of city workers have died.
Many of the survivors are questioning whether to stay. Akira Suto, a 55-year-old construction worker, said he can't forget the wall of icy ocean water as it pitched him head over heels, breaking his grip on his 82-year-old mother as the pair ran from their home, trying to flee.
'It's over,' his mother gasped, before she was dragged away by the waves, he said. Her body still hasn't been recovered.
Mr. Suto, who is staying with his wife and two children at an emergency shelter in a school gym, said he'd like to remain in Rikuzentakata. 'In reality, I don't know if it will be possible,' he said.
Even pillars of the business community are wavering.
Yasuhiko Konno, president of the Suisen sake brewery that was one of Rikuzentakata's biggest employers, said he hasn't decided whether to rebuild his company's factory on the downtown site. Waves punched holes in the brewery and scattered its giant green metal sake tanks as far as three miles away.
'We are here to make a profit, and I have to wonder if Rikuzentakata can come back from this level of damage,' said Mr. Konno, a 64-year-old native of the city. 'It doesn't make sense to build a sake factory with nothing else around.'
Mayor Toba sees it as an essential part of his job to persuade people to stay. He hopes to wheedle enough support from the national and prefecture governments to show progress rebuilding before leading citizens move away.
He has been trying to persuade civil servants set to retire this year to delay stepping down to ensure he has enough manpower to rebuild.
'The city might be smaller than it was before,' Mr. Toba said. His wife was missing, but his sons were alive, and he wanted to be sure Rikuzentakata would still be there when they got older.
'When I see the faces of my sons, I know I just have to keep going,' he said. 'This is my destiny, and I just have to do what needs to be done.'
None of this is what Mr. Toba had in mind when he came to Rikuzentakata 18 years ago.
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Born near Tokyo, he moved to the coastal community when he was 28. Tough economic times had made it hard for him to earn a living as a computer programmer in the capital. He chose Rikuzentakata because it was his father's birthplace and home, and he said he quickly came to love its natural beauty and laid-back feeling.
When he first arrived in town, he found work at a local poultry-processing company. It was there that he met Kumi, a native of another small city up the coast.
She was seven years his junior, with delicate features and dark black hair, and looked younger than her age. When they were picking out engagement rings in a jewelry store, Mr. Toba recalled, a clerk asked if he was shopping for his daughter.
'Even now, she looks like she's in her 20s,' he said.
She collected vintage American Fire-King glassware and enjoyed making handicrafts, Mr. Toba recalled. She made leather trinkets with embossed designs to hang on cell phones, which she sold at temporary shops with her friends.
She never questioned her husband's decision to become a politician -- though she didn't really like it. 'She put up with it,' he said.
It wasn't really even Mr. Toba's idea, he said. His father was in politics, and when a city council election came up several years ago, his father helped organize efforts to draft him. He came home one day and there were about '150 old folks from the neighborhood who turned to me and started clapping -- I didn't know what was going on.'
The elder Mr. Toba, who died about a decade ago, promised his son he wouldn't need to do much, just put up some posters. But before he knew it, the son was campaigning and talking to crowds.
Once he was on the city council, he spent his free time walking through neighborhoods, chatting with people and looking after their needs.
He soon realized, though, that as long as he was just another council member, his ability to get things done was limited. 'I always thought that one day, even if it's being just a village head, I wanted to be able to shape a town in the way I thought best,' he said.
For years, he served as deputy mayor. Then the mayor became ill and decided not to run again. When Mr. Toba told his wife he wanted the job, 'she just said, 'OK, I understand.''
Mr. Toba's campaign called for reducing the city's debt after years of heavy spending. He hoped to turn Rikuzentakata's beachfront into a popular resort and retirement area to attract more of Japan's affluent older residents.
After his victory in February, he got busy preparing the city budget and making courtesy calls on local dignitaries. He wasn't spending much time his wife, he knew. But there would be time for that later.
Mr. Toba's mayoral agenda went by the wayside when the disaster struck. In the first few days, he just tried to stay calm. He didn't know where his wife was, but given the scale of the destruction -- and the hundreds of missing people buried beneath the rubble -- he couldn't do much about it.
So much wreckage blocked his home that he couldn't get near it, and government search-and-rescue teams were combing the area.
There was no electricity, few relief supplies. With thousands of people in desperate need, the mayor decided to focus on what he could do: Help survivors.
Mayor Toba pleaded with friends to make as many rice balls as possible and give them out. He asked soldiers to clear roads so more supplies could get in. Looking back several weeks later, he's not sure what he did some of the time: Much of it was a blur.
A week after the disaster, food and water began arriving more regularly along with troops to distribute aid. But basic needs, for such things as toothbrushes and diapers, still weren't being met.
Any talk of reviving the city's fishing industry or other rebuilding efforts was 'far, far off,' Mr. Toba said, a week after the disaster. The most pressing needs were getting gasoline and making sure the elderly had enough medicine.
To persuade government officials that he needed more help, Mr. Toba invited lawmakers from Tokyo to spend the night in one of the city's emergency evacuation centers. He complained about how slow national relief efforts were. When asked about a visit by the prime minister to Rikuzentakata three weeks after the disaster, he rolled his eyes and said: 'Now, he comes.'
As the days passed, a routine set in. Every afternoon, Mr. Toba somberly briefed reporters on the city's latest casualty numbers, and handed out updated lists of dead citizens whose bodies had been discovered. There wasn't much time to think about his wife, or even his kids, though he spoke to the boys sometimes on the phone.
The surviving members of his administration set up their command post in a school kitchen using commandeered computers. Temporary quarters for the fire and police departments were set up across the parking lot. Since there was no running water, a trench latrine was dug out back.
Mayor Toba burned up the phones calling and pressuring prefectural officials to begin construction of temporary homes -- critical to keeping citizens from drifting away. At one point, Prime Minister Naoto Kan told Mr. Toba he might as well plan to temporarily move his people to less damaged cities inland -- but Mr. Toba refused.
'We have very tight-knit communities. We need to keep people together,' Mr. Toba said.
On March 26, construction finally began, making Rikuzentakata one of the first cities to start building temporary homes. The first 36 modular apartments with indoor plumbing and heating were hammered together by an army of construction workers and went up quickly in front of a middle school that served as an emergency shelter. More than 1,000 people entered the city lottery to receive a home.
Mr. Toba scored other small victories: After he met with the owner of a local clothing-manufacturing firm, the town received a donation of women's underwear, desperately needed by women living in emergency shelters.
As the immediate tasks of emergency assistance started to fade, the scale of challenges facing Rikuzentakata became painfully apparent.
Bridges, roadways and the city's rail connection were damaged or destroyed by the black waves. The power grid downtown was wiped out. A waste-water treatment plant -- built a decade ago for about $200 million -- disappeared without a trace. The massive, and expensive, tsunami defense wall that once shielded the city was reduced to ruins. It will likely have to be replaced to protect the sea-level sections of the city before they can be rebuilt.
Nearly all of the city's paper records, stored in City Hall, were destroyed. Contracts, blueprints and recent city-tax payments were all swept away. Officials have to rely on maps ripped from tourist brochures as they assess damage and repair city roads and bridges.
Some city-owned buildings -- including City Hall, a fire station and a sports center -- remain standing, but are so badly damaged that they will have to be torn down. Mr. Toba is trying to find money for the demolition. If the city has to pay itself, there won't be any money left to build new facilities, he said.
Rikuzentakata's population had already been shrinking steadily since 1970, and more than a third of the city's residents are over 65 years old, compared with about 20% in Japan as a whole. Any reconstruction plans will be limited by debts from past spending on schemes to attract more tourists. One such project, a seashell museum, was demolished by the tsunami.
Local officials haven't begun to calculate the total cost of the damage. And while it seems likely that Tokyo will help foot the bill for reconstruction, the timing and amount of any money remain distressingly unclear.
Rebuilding will take creativity. 'We will need to do something drastic,' Mr. Toba said one Saturday afternoon, running his fingers through his thinning hair, his face sagging with exhaustion.
One option, he said, would be to bulldoze the top of one of the mountains that ring the downtown to create more hilltop residential areas, and then use the extra earth to raise the level of the city center by about 60 feet. But it's unclear who would pay for that.
Mr. Toba's earlier big idea for Rikuzentakata -- tourism -- seems especially unlikely. The tens of thousands of pine trees that once lined Rikuzentakata's white sandy beach, making it a tourist destination, were destroyed by the tsunami. Only one remains standing.
In his quest to get residents to stay, the mayor has found some allies. One is 35-year-old Takashi Sasaki, who abandoned Rikuzentakata years ago to work in Tokyo as a computer-systems engineer. Unlike most of his peers, he decided to return home last year and help his father run a family printing business.
On March 11, Mr. Sasaki was using his digital camera to stream video of the tsunami to the Internet. When he saw the size of the waves, he and his father, Matsuo, raced into City Hall, where they spent the night on the upper floors along with the mayor.
Mr. Sasaki's mother, aunt and grandmother died. Despite days of searching, Mr. Sasaki said he hasn't found any trace of his home or the family print shop.
Even though they lost everything, Mr. Sasaki said he's committed to staying in the city. 'I want to stay here and rebuild,' he said.
A month after the tsunami, the fruits of Mr. Toba's efforts are evident, as a growing number of citizens follow his lead, picking up the pieces of their lives. Last week, the town reopened its first koban, a small neighborhood police station, which is a staple of most Japanese communities.
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Nearby, the Bank of Iwate has opened a temporary branch in a trailer for four hours a day. Around the corner, in a prefabricated shed, the city's Chamber of Commerce has opened an office to help local businesses. The lucky few who won a slot in Rikuzentakata's temporary homes can move in on Sunday.
In the town's lower basin, though, a staggering amount of work remains. Mounds of rubble have been plowed aside to create roads for cars and earth-moving equipment. But much of Rikuzentakata still resembles a massive landfill.
On Tuesday, the mayor got a call that would push all that into the background. There was a body in the morgue that resembled his wife, whose 39th birthday had been the day before. The woman's body had been found about 2,000 feet uphill from their home.
For several hours, Mr. Toba couldn't get away from the office. At last, he made his way down to the morgue. The body was badly damaged. But it was Kumi.
He debated what to tell his sons, and thought he didn't want to let them see her like that. It wasn't how he wanted them to remember their mother. 'She was like a friend to them,' he said. 'Since I was always so busy, they always ran to their mother.'
Standing before her body, he apologized to his wife for not coming to find her. His responsibilities as mayor, he told her, kept him away.
'When I think about that,' Mr. Toba said afterward, 'it really makes me question what kind of human being I am.'
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
日本小城市长的生死抉择
2011年 04月 13日 08:52
在那场毁灭性的地震撼动陆前高田市(Rikuzentakata)市政厅之前的几分钟，市长刀羽太(Futoshi Toba)（本文所有人名均为音译）正在享受一个安静的周五下午时光。自从担任这座沿海小城的市长以来，他已经几乎连续不间断地工作了一个月。
3月11日下午2点40分，他给妻子久美(Kumi)打了个电话，提议晚上带两个年幼的儿子去吃烧烤。她答应马上给他写电子邮件回复去不去。
这个谈话很简短，但是，命运有时候不给人细说的机会。
2点46分，距日本东北部沿海约60英里的海底发生的9级强震使陆前高田市猛烈晃动起来，毁坏了电力和通讯设备。此后不久，一堵超过40英尺高的黑色水墙冲过了20英尺高的海堤，涌入市中心。
刀羽太和几十位本地居民急忙冲上市政厅的房顶，这是一座位于市中心的钢骨混凝土结构的四层建筑。海啸引发的洪水漫过了这座建筑物的顶层。
卡车和公共汽车被巨浪抛掷得来回翻滚。在大浪冲击下，房屋与地基分离，漂向大海，屋里的人们惊叫着寻求帮助。
刀羽太说，“当我回首遥望自家方向时，只能看见所有的房屋都被冲毁。木头碎裂的声音响彻天际。”
刀羽太现年46岁，他的两个儿子——12岁的大河(Taiga)和10岁的奏多(Kanato)——当时正在位于山顶的学校里，得以躲过了海啸。但是，他的妻子像往常一样呆在地势更接近海平面的家中。
他说，“我曾想过抛开所有人，不顾一切地跳进车里，冲回家救她。但我真的不能这么做。”他解释说，作为市长所肩负的职责要求他把同事们带到安全地带。他当时一直在想，但愿她能逃脱险境。
当海浪最终开始退却时，陆前高田市已经被毁坏得面目全非，破烂的汽车、碎裂的木头和扭曲的钢筋交织在一起。银行被冲走了，加油站没了，杂货店没了，医院也没了。有超过2300人死亡或失踪，占当地人口的十分之一。
一个月后，刀羽太发现自己需要应付令人左右为难的复杂局面并肩负重任，因为日本要努力从现代历史上最严重的一场自然灾害中恢复过来，日本的领导者们正在讨论如何（甚至是否要）重建这个经济已经在急剧下滑的地区。刀羽太和其他当地政治家做出的决策很有可能就决定了遭受沉重打击的东北部沿海地区的命运：究竟是顽强地活下去并繁荣发展，还是从此一蹶不振？
在以往的天灾（比如1995年摧毁港口城市神户的大地震，还有1923年造成东京地区逾10万人死亡的大地震）过后，日本很快进行了重建。但是，分布在崎岖海岸线上的陆前高田及其他乡镇的情况和这些大城市很不一样。
在灾难发生前，这个地区早就陷入了困境：年轻人去其他地方谋求更好的生活，留下的只是一些老年人和夕阳产业。对这个地区持悲观看法的人认为，投资重建这些江河日下的城镇不符合经济学原理。
在最近的一个周六的下午，刀羽太正在设在该市一所学校的中央厨房内的一个临时指挥所开展工作。他说，“在这种情况下，领导人确实很难当。我们必须一切从头开始。”
刀羽太经常在指挥中心门外的人行道上来回踱步，穿着一身借来的衣服（一件市政工人的制服、米色的风衣和配套的长裤，再加上一双黑色的锐步运动鞋），抽着越来越稀缺的超醇万宝路(Marlboro Ultralights)，他不时拿起挂在脖子上的手机，联络中央和地方官员，努力寻求帮助。
到目前为止他取得的成果包括：为陆前高田市剩余的一些汽车讨来能够多跑几天的汽油，或者为依然无家可归的1万名市民争取生活补给品。从某种角度来看，这些成果只是突显了摆在他面前的任务的艰巨性。
尽管刀羽太全身心地投入到改善这座城市悲惨境况的工作中，但这并不能使他完全忘记自己和久美、大河及奏多一家人的生活发生的剧变。两个孩子目前和刀羽太的叔叔呆在一起。身为市长的父亲尽量抽空去看望儿子，但是在大多数夜晚，他都是睡在临时指挥中心办公桌旁边的地板上。
他也没有回过位于市区的家中，只是在灾难发生后匆匆地望了一眼。在那么远的距离下，他只能依稀辨认出他家房屋的外框依然挺立，但有另一所房子的屋顶搭在他家房屋的屋顶上。
在他家的房屋里面，充满了令人痛苦的印迹：在一楼的衣橱里，挂着一件沾满泥浆的外套和一些领带。地板上散落着照片，其中包括身穿灰色西装的刀羽和久美在结婚当天的照片。在另一张被污泥弄脏的照片中，他的妻子久美身穿袖子是青绿色的白色T恤、黑发齐肩，笑容满面，臂弯里揽着他们的一个孩子。
几周以来，刀羽太一直非常繁忙，都没有时间去停尸所看看久美是否在那儿。其实他也很害怕自己可能看到的一幕。
在上个月月底的时候，这位市长说，“作为一个丈夫，我想去寻找我的妻子，但我必须领导灾后恢复工作。这里的许多人都面临相同的境况。”
陆前高田市有人居住的历史已经有一千年了。穿过一个被群山环绕的平原，就可以看到大海，当地著名的特产有扇贝、海胆和一种品种特别的牡蛎，这种牡蛎在东京的餐馆可以卖到五美元一只。在沙质海滩边是一片松树林，曾被日本政府列为日本最美的100处景点之一。
这座城市历史上也曾发生过海啸。1960年由智利地震引起的海啸导致当地八人丧生，海水淹没了该市靠近海滩的地区。
但是，从来没有哪一次海啸能与3月11日发生的这一次相提并论。
那些冲出门警告居民的市政官员被海浪冲走了。一位市长顾问试图带着一位老奶奶一起转移，但他很快就意识到背着她跑不快，两人都无法逃生。他只好把她放在市政厅二楼的台阶上，抱歉地说，“对不起，奶奶。”然后匆忙跑上顶楼。后来，他再也没有见到这位老奶奶。
海啸冲垮了市区被当作紧急避难所的一个运动中心的后墙，在这里寻求避难的几十个人几乎全部被淹死。
两位消防员爬上消防局屋顶的一个了望塔。最终，在夜幕降临前，直升飞机救起了这两名男子，并将其他一些幸存者从市区的屋顶转移到安全地带。多处煤气罐爆炸，引发了熊熊烈火。
下午7点左右，天开始下雪。一些幸存者收集碎木块，燃起一堆篝火取暖，同时也是向救援人员发出信号。市长和他的助手们围在一台收音机前，收听最新的灾情公报。
余震持续了一整夜，咆哮的海浪一次次地涨起又落下。刀羽太称，他担心整座建筑物会倒塌。大家只能祈祷白天快点来临。
黎明时分，陆前高田市开始统计令人震惊的伤亡人数。它是日本受灾最严重的城市之一。在大约23,000位居民当中，有超过1,100人被证实死亡，有近1,200人失踪，估计已经死亡。在一个体育馆设立的临时停尸所里有成百上千具遗体还没有被确认身份。
警察局长、市议会的两名议员和三位学校的高级官员在海啸中丧生。三分之一的市政工人遇难。
许多幸存者质疑自己是否应该继续留在这里。现年55岁的建筑工人须藤明(Akira Suto)说，他无法忘记，当他和82岁的母亲携手跑出家门试图逃走时，冰冷的海浪墙将他打翻在地，冲开了他和母亲紧握在一起的两只手。
他说，母亲在被海浪卷走前喘息着说，“一切都结束了。”她的遗体至今仍未找到。
现在，须藤明和他的妻子及两个孩子暂住在一所学校体育馆内的一个紧急避难所。他说，他想留在陆前高田市。但事实上，他不知道这是不是有可能。
就连商业社团的中流砥柱都在动摇。
Suisen清酒酿造厂的总裁今野保彦(Yasuhiko Konno)说，他尚未决定是否在市区的场址重建他公司的酿酒厂。海浪将酿酒厂冲击得千疮百孔，用来储藏清酒的巨大绿色金属罐被冲得四处漂散，最远的漂到了三英里外的地方。Suisen是陆前高田市规模最大的企业之一。
现年64岁的今野保彦是本地人。他说，“我们在这里建厂是为了盈利，我不得不怀疑陆前高田市在遭受如此严重的损伤之后还能否复原。在四周别无他物的情况下建造一家清酒厂显然是不智之举。”
市长刀羽太将劝说人们留下视为其工作当中很重要的一个部分。他希望能从中央和县级政府获得足够的帮助，在具有带头作用的市民离开前向他们展示重建进展。
他一直在努力劝说将于今年退休的公务员推迟卸任时间，以确保有足够的人力开展重建工作。
刀羽太说，“这座城市的规模可能会比以前小一些。”他的妻子不在了，但他的儿子还活着，他希望当他们长大时，陆前高田市依然还在。
他说，“当我看着儿子们的小脸蛋时，我知道自己必须继续坚持下去。这是我的使命，我必须去完成那些需要做的工作。”
18年前当刀羽太来到陆前高田市时，他做梦也想不到会有今天这样的遭遇。
刀羽太出生在东京附近，在28岁时迁居到这座海边小城。低迷的经济使身为电脑程式师的他很难在首都谋生。他选择陆前高田市是因为这里是他父亲的出生地和家园，他说他很快就爱上了这里的自然美景和悠闲自在的感觉。
刚到这座小城，他就在一家本地的家禽加工厂找到了工作。在这里，他遇见了久美，她出生在北边的另一座海滨小城。
久美比他小七岁，拥有优雅美丽的容貌和一头乌黑的秀发，看起来比她的实际年龄还要年轻一些。当他们在一家珠宝店挑选订婚戒指时，一位店员问他是不是在帮女儿买戒指。
他说，“即使是现在，她看起来也就20多岁的样子。”
刀羽太回忆道，她喜欢收藏美国火皇(Fire-King)古董玻璃器皿，还喜欢制作手工艺品。她会制作压花图案的皮革手机链，还和她的朋友一起在临时摊位出售这些小饰品。
她从未质疑过她丈夫做出的成为一位政治家的决定，尽管她实际上并不喜欢政治。他说，她选择了容忍和迁就。
刀羽太说，从政甚至也不是他本人的想法。他的父亲在政界工作，在几年前的一次市议会选举之时，他父亲帮忙组织造势，要他出来参选。有一天当他回到家时，发现有150来个老街坊看着他，然后开始鼓掌，他都不知道发生了什么事。
刀羽老先生大约在10年前去世。他向他的儿子保证，他不需要做很多事，只需张贴一些竞选海报就可以。但是他还没来得及看到儿子参与竞选以及向人群发表讲话的场面。
进入市议会后，刀羽太把闲暇时间用来走访街坊四邻，和他们闲谈，关注他们的需求。
然而，他很快意识到，如果他只是市议会的一名成员，他的办事能量就会受到限制。他说，“我总是在想，有朝一日，即使只是当个小村长，我也要按照我所认为的最佳方式来打造它。”
他当了几年的副市长。然后，市长生病了，决定卸任。当刀羽太告诉妻子他想竞选市长时，她只说了一句，“好的，我理解你。”
刀羽太的竞选口号是消减该市数年大举支出之后累积的债务。他希望将陆前高田市的海滨发展为度假胜地和退休养老胜地，以吸引更多富裕的日本老年居民。
在2月份赢得选举后，他就开始忙于准备市政预算，礼节性地拜会了当地的达官显贵。他知道自己陪伴妻子的时间不多，但总觉得以后会有时间的。
在灾难发生后，刀羽太的市长日程暂时被放在了一边。最初几天，他只能努力让自己保持平静。他不知道他的妻子在哪里，但是，考虑到此次灾难带来的破坏程度，以及成百上千位被埋在瓦砾堆下的失踪人员，他不能去寻找自己的妻子。
在重重残骸物的阻隔下，他无法靠近自己的家，而且有政府的搜救队在对这个地区进行地毯式搜索。
在供电中断、救济品严重匮乏以及成千上万的灾民急需救助的情况下，这位元市长决定把精力集中在他所能做的事情上：帮助幸存者。
刀羽太请求他的朋友们制作尽可能多的饭团并分发出去。他要求士兵清理道路，这样更多的救灾物资就可以被运送进来。几周后回想起来，他并不能确定有时候自己在做什么，大部分回忆是一片模糊。
在灾难发生一周后，食品和饮用水开始更加定期地运抵当地，还有军队帮助分发。但是，对牙刷和纸尿裤这些基本生活用品的需求仍然得不到满足。
当时，刀羽太说，任何关于恢复该市渔业或其他重建工作的想法看起来都遥不可及。燃眉之急是获得汽油，以及确保老年人有足够的药品。
为了使政府官员相信他需要更多的説明，刀羽太邀请东京的一位议员在该市的一个紧急疏散中心过夜。这位议员开始抱怨国家的救援工作进展缓慢。当刀羽太提出邀请日本首相在灾难发生三周后访问陆前高田市时，这位议员考虑了一下，说道，“现在，他会来的。”
随着日子的推移，一套新的工作程式开始形成。每天下午，刀羽太都会心情沉重地就该市的最新伤亡资料与记者召开简短的新闻发布会，更新已经找到遗体的遇难者名单。他没有太多的时间去想他的妻子，甚至孩子，仅仅是有时会和他们通个电话。
市政府的幸存人员在一所学校的厨房里成立了指挥部，征用了一些电脑来办公。消防和员警部门的临时驻地则设在停车场一带。由于没有自来水，就在后面挖掘了一条沟渠作为公共厕所。
刀羽太不停地给县级官员打电话，敦促他们开始建设临时房屋，这一点对于防止居民流失至关重要。日本首相菅直人(Naoto Kan)一度要求刀羽太也要做好准备，暂时将居民转移到受灾程度较轻的内陆城市，但是刀羽太拒绝了这个要求。
刀羽太说，“我们有联系非常紧密的社区。我们需要把人聚集在一起。”
3月26日，建设活动终于开始了，这使陆前高田市成为最先开始建造临时房屋的城市之一。一大群建筑工人将首批带有室内抽水马桶和取暖装置的36间活动板房组装在一起，很快就竖立在作为紧急避难所的一所中学门前。有1,000多人参加了市政府组织的抽签，以决定房屋的归属。那些幸运的极少数中签者可以在4月10日搬进这些活动板房。
刀羽太还取得了其他一些小小的胜利：在和当地一家制衣厂的老板会晤后，他获得了该厂捐赠的一批女士内衣，这正是暂住在避难所内的女士们所急需的东西。
当紧急救助的急迫性开始下降后，陆前高田市面临的无比艰难的挑战就变得显而易见了。
该市的桥梁、道路和铁路网都被黑浪破坏或损毁。市区电网被摧毁。一家在10年前耗资约2亿美元建造的污水处理厂消失得无影无踪。耗费巨资修建的宽大的海啸防护墙曾经保护过这座城市，但现在已经沦为废墟。在防护墙得到重建之前，可能要采取其他替代措施来保护这座城市与海平面齐平的地区了。
存放在市政厅的几乎所有档资料都被毁坏。合同、设计图和最近的缴税凭证都被冲走了。官员们不得不根据从游客手册上撕下来的地图评估损失，修理城市道路和桥梁。
一些市政建筑（包括市政厅、一所消防局和一个运动中心）依然挺立不倒，但也被严重损坏，必须予以拆除。刀羽太正在努力筹集爆破所需的资金。他说，如果由市政府自己来出这笔钱，那么就没有任何余钱用来建造新设施了。
自1970年以来，陆前高田市的人口一直在不断缩减，超过三分之一的市民是65岁以上的老人，而整个日本的老年人比例为20%。过去，该市为了吸引更多游客而兴建了一些项目，这笔支出所带来的债务负担将使重建计划受到限制。被此次海啸冲毁的一座贝壳博物馆就是此类项目之一。
当地官员还没有开始计算总的损失。虽然东京方面可能会帮助筹集重建资金，但资金到位的具体时间和具体金额还不得而知。
重建需要创新精神。一个周六的下午，刀羽太一边用手指梳理着日渐稀疏的头发一边说道，“我们需要采取一些激烈的举措。”过度的劳累使他的面孔看起来无精打采。
他说，一个选择是把市区周围一座高山的山顶推平，以建造更多的山顶住宅区，然后用多下来的泥土把整个市区的海拔高度提升60英尺。但现在还不知道由谁来付这笔钱。
刀羽太早些时为陆前高田市设定的发展旅游业的宏伟计划看起来是更加不可能实现了。矗立在白色沙滩边的数万棵松树曾使陆前高田市成为旅游胜地，但现在都被海啸冲毁了，只剩下了孤零零的一棵。
在劝说居民留下的过程中，这位市长找到了一些同盟者，现年35岁的佐佐木隆(Takashi Sasaki)就是其中之一。佐佐木隆在几年前离开陆前高田市，到东京找了份电脑系统工程师的工作。但是，和大部分同伴不一样的是，他于去年返回家乡，帮助他父亲经营一个家族印刷企业。
3月11日，佐佐木隆用他的数码相机将海啸视频上传到互联网。当他看到海浪如此可怕之后，就和父亲松尾(Matsuo)跑进了市政厅。然后，他们和市长一起在市政厅的顶楼度过了一夜。
佐佐木隆的母亲、姨母和祖母都遇难了。佐佐木隆称，尽管搜寻了好几天，但他没能找到他家的房屋和家族印刷厂留下的任何痕迹。
佐佐木隆称，尽管失去了一切，他还是决定留在这座城市，并参与重建。
在海啸发生一个月后，刀羽太的努力终于取得了明显的成果，因为有越来越多的市民在他的带领下开始恢复正常的生活。上周，这座小城重新开设了第一家派出所，这种小型员警站是大多数日本社区必须配备的机构。
岩手银行(Bank of Iwate)在附近的一个拖车上开设了一家临时分行，每天营业四个小时。在街道拐角处的一个预制棚里，该市的商会开设了一个办公室，以帮助当地企业。
然而，在这座城市地势较低的盆地，仍然有数量惊人的工作要做。一些碎石堆已经被移开，以便为汽车和运送土方的设备开辟道路。但是，陆前高田市的大部分地方看起来还是像一个巨大的垃圾填埋场。
4月5日，这位市长接到了一个能让他把所有的一切都抛诸脑后的电话。停尸所里有一具遗体很像他的妻子久美，此前一天正是久美的39岁生日。这位女士的遗体是在离他们家约2,000英尺的高地被发现的。
接到电话后的几个小时，刀羽太一直没有勇气离开办公室。最后，他终于来到了停尸所。遗体已经被严重损坏，但确实是久美。
他不知道该如何把这个消息告诉他的两个儿子，他不愿意让他们看到这个样子的母亲，不希望他们以这种方式来记住他们的母亲。他说，“对他们来说，她就像是一位朋友。由于我总是很忙，他们有问题的时候总是跑去找他们的母亲。”
站在妻子的遗体前，他为自己未能去找她而向她道歉。他告诉她，作为市长所肩负的责任使他不能去找她
事后，刀羽太说，“每当我想到这一点时，真的会质疑自己到底是一个什么样的人。”
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
（本文版权归道琼斯公司所有，未经许可不得翻译或转载。）
http://cn.wsj.com/gb/20110413/bas085401.asp
Minutes before a violent earthquake convulsed City Hall, Futoshi Toba was enjoying a quiet Friday afternoon after a month of nearly nonstop work since becoming mayor of this small coastal city.
He called his wife, Kumi, at 2:40 p.m., March 11, to suggest they take their two young sons to a barbecue place for dinner. She promised that she'd email him soon to let him know.
The conversation wasn't much, but fate doesn't always allow for eloquence.
At 2:46, tremors from the magnitude-9 earthquake about 60 miles offshore convulsed Rikuzentakata, knocking out electricity and phones. Soon afterwards, a wall of black water more than 40 feet high smashed through the 20-foot high seawall and poured into the heart of the city.
Mr. Toba and dozens of local residents scrambled up the stairs to the roof of the four-story City Hall, a steel-reinforced concrete building downtown. The tsunami sent water surging as high as the building's top floor.
Trucks and buses were tossed end over end. Houses, pulled loose from their foundations, floated toward the sea, the people inside screaming for help.
'When I looked back in the direction of my home, I just saw all the houses being crushed,' Mr. Toba said. 'The sound of the wood splintering was so loud.'
Mr. Toba's sons, Taiga, 12, and Kanato, 10, were at a hilltop school, and escaped the tsunami. But his wife was at home, closer to sea level, as she usually was during the day.
'I considered just ignoring everyone, hopping in my car, and rushing to get her. But I really couldn't do that,' he said, explaining that his duties as mayor required him to lead his colleagues to safety. 'I was thinking the whole time: 'I hope she was able to get away.'' By the time the waves finally started to recede, Rikuzentakata had been reduced to a tangle of smashed cars, shattered wood and twisted steel. The banks were washed away. Gas stations, gone. Grocery stores, gone. Hospital, gone.
More than 2,300 people -- a tenth of the population here -- were dead or missing.
A month later, Mr. Toba finds himself in a role of bewildering complexity and responsibility, as Japan struggles to recover from the worst natural disaster of its modern history and its leaders debate how -- and even whether -- to rebuild a part of the country that was already in steep decline. The decisions Mr. Toba and other local politicians make now may well determine whether the hard-hit areas on the northeast coast survive and thrive, or never recover.
After past disasters -- the 1995 earthquake that wrecked the port city of Kobe and the 1923 quake that killed more than 100,000 around Tokyo -- Japan rebuilt quickly. But the situation in Rikuzentakata and other communities along the craggy shoreline here is far different.
The region had been in trouble long before the disaster: Many young people had gone in search of a better life elsewhere, leaving behind an aging population and dying industries. Pessimists question the economic logic of investing to rebuild its shrinking towns and cities.
'It's hard to be a leader in a situation like this,' the 46-year-old Mr. Toba said one recent Saturday afternoon, as he worked from a temporary command post in the office of the city schools' central kitchen. 'We are going to have to start again from scratch.'
Dressed in borrowed clothes -- a city-worker uniform with a beige windbreaker, matching pants and a pair of black Reebok sneakers -- Mr. Toba can often be found pacing the pavement outside his command center, smoking a dwindling supply of Marlboro Ultralights and cajoling national and regional officials over a mobile phone that hangs from a strap around his neck.
His successes so far -- like scrounging enough fuel to keep some of Rikuzentakata's remaining cars running a few days more, or securing supplies for the 10,000 citizens who remain homeless here -- in some ways only underscore the daunting scale of the task ahead.
Mr. Toba's preoccupation with the town's misery can't completely obliterate what has happened to his own life with Kumi and Taiga and Kanato. The boys are staying with Mr. Toba's uncle. The mayor sees them when he can, but most nights he sleeps on the floor beside his desk in the makeshift command center.
He hasn't returned to his house downtown, either, aside from a quick glimpse soon after the disaster. He could only get close enough to make out that its shell was still standing, but the roof of another home had come to rest atop it.
Inside, his home is filled with painful reminders: A mud-covered jacket and some ties hang in a first-floor closet. The floor is littered with photos, including pictures of a younger Mr. Toba in a gray suit with Kumi on their wedding day. In another mud-stained picture, his wife -- in a white T-shirt with turquoise sleeves and black shoulder-length hair -- wraps her arms around one of the children and laughs.
For weeks, Mr. Toba had been too busy to visit the morgue to see if Kumi was there. He also dreaded what he might find.
'As a husband, I'd like to go search for my wife, but I need to lead the way on the recovery effort,' the mayor said late last month. 'Many people here are in the same situation.'
Rikuzentakata has been inhabited for 1,000 years. Spread out across a plain surrounded by mountains running down to the sea, it drew fame for its scallops, sea urchins and a special breed of oysters that sold for as much as $5 a piece in Tokyo restaurants. A wooded area with pine trees along its sandy beach was once declared by the government to be one of Japan's 100 most beautiful sights.
The city also has a history of tsunamis. One touched off in 1960 by an earthquake in Chile killed eight people and inundated parts of the city near the beach.
But there had never been anything remotely like the waves that struck on March 11.
City officials who had rushed out to warn residents were washed away. One of the mayor's advisers tried carrying an elderly woman, but quickly realized he wouldn't be able to run fast enough with her on his back. He left her behind on a second-floor stair landing in City Hall. 'Sorry grandma,' he said, before dashing up to the roof. He never saw her again.
The tsunami blew out the rear wall of a downtown sports center that had been designated as an emergency refuge, drowning nearly all of the dozens of people who sought shelter there.
Two firemen clung to a watch tower atop a fire station. Helicopters eventually rescued the men and pulled some other survivors to safety from downtown rooftops before darkness fell. Exploding gas cylinders sent up plumes of flame.
At around 7 p.m., it started to snow. Some survivors gathered up debris and started a bonfire for warmth and to provide a beacon for any rescuers. The mayor and his aides huddled around a radio, listening to news bulletins.
Aftershocks continued through the night, and roiling waves swept in and out. Mr. Toba said he feared the entire building would collapse. 'We were just praying for daylight.'
At dawn, Rikuzentakata began to assess the staggering human toll. It was one of the worst-hit Japanese cities. Of its roughly 23,000 inhabitants, more than 1,100 are confirmed dead. Nearly 1,200 are missing and presumed killed. Hundreds of bodies in the temporary morgue set up in a gymnasium remain unidentified.
The police chief, two members of the city council and the three top school officials perished in the tsunami. One-third of city workers have died.
Many of the survivors are questioning whether to stay. Akira Suto, a 55-year-old construction worker, said he can't forget the wall of icy ocean water as it pitched him head over heels, breaking his grip on his 82-year-old mother as the pair ran from their home, trying to flee.
'It's over,' his mother gasped, before she was dragged away by the waves, he said. Her body still hasn't been recovered.
Mr. Suto, who is staying with his wife and two children at an emergency shelter in a school gym, said he'd like to remain in Rikuzentakata. 'In reality, I don't know if it will be possible,' he said.
Even pillars of the business community are wavering.
Yasuhiko Konno, president of the Suisen sake brewery that was one of Rikuzentakata's biggest employers, said he hasn't decided whether to rebuild his company's factory on the downtown site. Waves punched holes in the brewery and scattered its giant green metal sake tanks as far as three miles away.
'We are here to make a profit, and I have to wonder if Rikuzentakata can come back from this level of damage,' said Mr. Konno, a 64-year-old native of the city. 'It doesn't make sense to build a sake factory with nothing else around.'
Mayor Toba sees it as an essential part of his job to persuade people to stay. He hopes to wheedle enough support from the national and prefecture governments to show progress rebuilding before leading citizens move away.
He has been trying to persuade civil servants set to retire this year to delay stepping down to ensure he has enough manpower to rebuild.
'The city might be smaller than it was before,' Mr. Toba said. His wife was missing, but his sons were alive, and he wanted to be sure Rikuzentakata would still be there when they got older.
'When I see the faces of my sons, I know I just have to keep going,' he said. 'This is my destiny, and I just have to do what needs to be done.'
None of this is what Mr. Toba had in mind when he came to Rikuzentakata 18 years ago.
(MORE TO FOLLOW) Dow Jones Newswires
April 08, 2011 22:30 ET (02:30 GMT)
WSJ(4/9) Fateful Choice On A Day Of Disaster -2-
Born near Tokyo, he moved to the coastal community when he was 28. Tough economic times had made it hard for him to earn a living as a computer programmer in the capital. He chose Rikuzentakata because it was his father's birthplace and home, and he said he quickly came to love its natural beauty and laid-back feeling.
When he first arrived in town, he found work at a local poultry-processing company. It was there that he met Kumi, a native of another small city up the coast.
She was seven years his junior, with delicate features and dark black hair, and looked younger than her age. When they were picking out engagement rings in a jewelry store, Mr. Toba recalled, a clerk asked if he was shopping for his daughter.
'Even now, she looks like she's in her 20s,' he said.
She collected vintage American Fire-King glassware and enjoyed making handicrafts, Mr. Toba recalled. She made leather trinkets with embossed designs to hang on cell phones, which she sold at temporary shops with her friends.
She never questioned her husband's decision to become a politician -- though she didn't really like it. 'She put up with it,' he said.
It wasn't really even Mr. Toba's idea, he said. His father was in politics, and when a city council election came up several years ago, his father helped organize efforts to draft him. He came home one day and there were about '150 old folks from the neighborhood who turned to me and started clapping -- I didn't know what was going on.'
The elder Mr. Toba, who died about a decade ago, promised his son he wouldn't need to do much, just put up some posters. But before he knew it, the son was campaigning and talking to crowds.
Once he was on the city council, he spent his free time walking through neighborhoods, chatting with people and looking after their needs.
He soon realized, though, that as long as he was just another council member, his ability to get things done was limited. 'I always thought that one day, even if it's being just a village head, I wanted to be able to shape a town in the way I thought best,' he said.
For years, he served as deputy mayor. Then the mayor became ill and decided not to run again. When Mr. Toba told his wife he wanted the job, 'she just said, 'OK, I understand.''
Mr. Toba's campaign called for reducing the city's debt after years of heavy spending. He hoped to turn Rikuzentakata's beachfront into a popular resort and retirement area to attract more of Japan's affluent older residents.
After his victory in February, he got busy preparing the city budget and making courtesy calls on local dignitaries. He wasn't spending much time his wife, he knew. But there would be time for that later.
Mr. Toba's mayoral agenda went by the wayside when the disaster struck. In the first few days, he just tried to stay calm. He didn't know where his wife was, but given the scale of the destruction -- and the hundreds of missing people buried beneath the rubble -- he couldn't do much about it.
So much wreckage blocked his home that he couldn't get near it, and government search-and-rescue teams were combing the area.
There was no electricity, few relief supplies. With thousands of people in desperate need, the mayor decided to focus on what he could do: Help survivors.
Mayor Toba pleaded with friends to make as many rice balls as possible and give them out. He asked soldiers to clear roads so more supplies could get in. Looking back several weeks later, he's not sure what he did some of the time: Much of it was a blur.
A week after the disaster, food and water began arriving more regularly along with troops to distribute aid. But basic needs, for such things as toothbrushes and diapers, still weren't being met.
Any talk of reviving the city's fishing industry or other rebuilding efforts was 'far, far off,' Mr. Toba said, a week after the disaster. The most pressing needs were getting gasoline and making sure the elderly had enough medicine.
To persuade government officials that he needed more help, Mr. Toba invited lawmakers from Tokyo to spend the night in one of the city's emergency evacuation centers. He complained about how slow national relief efforts were. When asked about a visit by the prime minister to Rikuzentakata three weeks after the disaster, he rolled his eyes and said: 'Now, he comes.'
As the days passed, a routine set in. Every afternoon, Mr. Toba somberly briefed reporters on the city's latest casualty numbers, and handed out updated lists of dead citizens whose bodies had been discovered. There wasn't much time to think about his wife, or even his kids, though he spoke to the boys sometimes on the phone.
The surviving members of his administration set up their command post in a school kitchen using commandeered computers. Temporary quarters for the fire and police departments were set up across the parking lot. Since there was no running water, a trench latrine was dug out back.
Mayor Toba burned up the phones calling and pressuring prefectural officials to begin construction of temporary homes -- critical to keeping citizens from drifting away. At one point, Prime Minister Naoto Kan told Mr. Toba he might as well plan to temporarily move his people to less damaged cities inland -- but Mr. Toba refused.
'We have very tight-knit communities. We need to keep people together,' Mr. Toba said.
On March 26, construction finally began, making Rikuzentakata one of the first cities to start building temporary homes. The first 36 modular apartments with indoor plumbing and heating were hammered together by an army of construction workers and went up quickly in front of a middle school that served as an emergency shelter. More than 1,000 people entered the city lottery to receive a home.
Mr. Toba scored other small victories: After he met with the owner of a local clothing-manufacturing firm, the town received a donation of women's underwear, desperately needed by women living in emergency shelters.
As the immediate tasks of emergency assistance started to fade, the scale of challenges facing Rikuzentakata became painfully apparent.
Bridges, roadways and the city's rail connection were damaged or destroyed by the black waves. The power grid downtown was wiped out. A waste-water treatment plant -- built a decade ago for about $200 million -- disappeared without a trace. The massive, and expensive, tsunami defense wall that once shielded the city was reduced to ruins. It will likely have to be replaced to protect the sea-level sections of the city before they can be rebuilt.
Nearly all of the city's paper records, stored in City Hall, were destroyed. Contracts, blueprints and recent city-tax payments were all swept away. Officials have to rely on maps ripped from tourist brochures as they assess damage and repair city roads and bridges.
Some city-owned buildings -- including City Hall, a fire station and a sports center -- remain standing, but are so badly damaged that they will have to be torn down. Mr. Toba is trying to find money for the demolition. If the city has to pay itself, there won't be any money left to build new facilities, he said.
Rikuzentakata's population had already been shrinking steadily since 1970, and more than a third of the city's residents are over 65 years old, compared with about 20% in Japan as a whole. Any reconstruction plans will be limited by debts from past spending on schemes to attract more tourists. One such project, a seashell museum, was demolished by the tsunami.
Local officials haven't begun to calculate the total cost of the damage. And while it seems likely that Tokyo will help foot the bill for reconstruction, the timing and amount of any money remain distressingly unclear.
Rebuilding will take creativity. 'We will need to do something drastic,' Mr. Toba said one Saturday afternoon, running his fingers through his thinning hair, his face sagging with exhaustion.
One option, he said, would be to bulldoze the top of one of the mountains that ring the downtown to create more hilltop residential areas, and then use the extra earth to raise the level of the city center by about 60 feet. But it's unclear who would pay for that.
Mr. Toba's earlier big idea for Rikuzentakata -- tourism -- seems especially unlikely. The tens of thousands of pine trees that once lined Rikuzentakata's white sandy beach, making it a tourist destination, were destroyed by the tsunami. Only one remains standing.
In his quest to get residents to stay, the mayor has found some allies. One is 35-year-old Takashi Sasaki, who abandoned Rikuzentakata years ago to work in Tokyo as a computer-systems engineer. Unlike most of his peers, he decided to return home last year and help his father run a family printing business.
On March 11, Mr. Sasaki was using his digital camera to stream video of the tsunami to the Internet. When he saw the size of the waves, he and his father, Matsuo, raced into City Hall, where they spent the night on the upper floors along with the mayor.
Mr. Sasaki's mother, aunt and grandmother died. Despite days of searching, Mr. Sasaki said he hasn't found any trace of his home or the family print shop.
Even though they lost everything, Mr. Sasaki said he's committed to staying in the city. 'I want to stay here and rebuild,' he said.
A month after the tsunami, the fruits of Mr. Toba's efforts are evident, as a growing number of citizens follow his lead, picking up the pieces of their lives. Last week, the town reopened its first koban, a small neighborhood police station, which is a staple of most Japanese communities.
(MORE TO FOLLOW) Dow Jones Newswires
April 08, 2011 22:30 ET (02:30 GMT)
WSJ(4/9) Fateful Choice On A Day Of Disaster -3-
Nearby, the Bank of Iwate has opened a temporary branch in a trailer for four hours a day. Around the corner, in a prefabricated shed, the city's Chamber of Commerce has opened an office to help local businesses. The lucky few who won a slot in Rikuzentakata's temporary homes can move in on Sunday.
In the town's lower basin, though, a staggering amount of work remains. Mounds of rubble have been plowed aside to create roads for cars and earth-moving equipment. But much of Rikuzentakata still resembles a massive landfill.
On Tuesday, the mayor got a call that would push all that into the background. There was a body in the morgue that resembled his wife, whose 39th birthday had been the day before. The woman's body had been found about 2,000 feet uphill from their home.
For several hours, Mr. Toba couldn't get away from the office. At last, he made his way down to the morgue. The body was badly damaged. But it was Kumi.
He debated what to tell his sons, and thought he didn't want to let them see her like that. It wasn't how he wanted them to remember their mother. 'She was like a friend to them,' he said. 'Since I was always so busy, they always ran to their mother.'
Standing before her body, he apologized to his wife for not coming to find her. His responsibilities as mayor, he told her, kept him away.
'When I think about that,' Mr. Toba said afterward, 'it really makes me question what kind of human being I am.'
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
2011年3月28日星期一
films
国王的演讲（King's Speech）
我知女人心，刘德华、巩俐
伦敦大道（London Boulevard(2010)）
女巫季节（Season of the Witch(2011)）
将爱情进行到底，2011
围困城堡（La Citadelle assiégée），2006
打擂台，2010
单身男女(Don't break my heart，高圆圆、吴彦祖、古天乐)，2011
海洋，2009
Faster（极速复仇，巨石强森），2010
一代骄马，Secretariat，2010
杀手们，The Killers，2010
早间主播，Morning Glory（哈里森·福特等），2010
暗杀令；The Hit List，2010
危情三日，2010
to be
加勒比海盗：惊涛怪浪
里约大冒险
功夫熊猫2
最爱
变形金刚3
速度与激情5
雷神
战国
关云长
unknown
武侠
雪花秘扇
我知女人心，刘德华、巩俐
伦敦大道（London Boulevard(2010)）
女巫季节（Season of the Witch(2011)）
将爱情进行到底，2011
围困城堡（La Citadelle assiégée），2006
打擂台，2010
单身男女(Don't break my heart，高圆圆、吴彦祖、古天乐)，2011
海洋，2009
Faster（极速复仇，巨石强森），2010
一代骄马，Secretariat，2010
杀手们，The Killers，2010
早间主播，Morning Glory（哈里森·福特等），2010
暗杀令；The Hit List，2010
危情三日，2010
to be
加勒比海盗：惊涛怪浪
里约大冒险
功夫熊猫2
最爱
变形金刚3
速度与激情5
雷神
战国
关云长
unknown
武侠
雪花秘扇
2011年3月11日星期五
2011年2月11日星期五
2011年1月27日星期四
2011年1月17日星期一
激进主义与保守主义的平衡术——格兰仕
《21世纪》：公司总部一直在顺德，这对人才引进有没有影响？有没有考虑将总部搬迁到中心城市？
梁昭贤：世界500强里很多公司，总部一直都是在其发家的地方，由此看来，不一定要将公司总部搬迁到中心城市、大城市。地理位置的确是个问题，但如果企业的其他吸引力够强大，是可以弥补地理位置的劣势的。如果格兰仕将总部放到上海，能招到的高层次人才的确会多很多，但在上海，人才的流动性会很大，而在顺德，高层次人才的绝对数没有上海多，但人才的流动性也没有上海大。格兰仕的总部还是要立足广东，面向世界。
当然，研发人才一定要全球化、国际化，此外，研发不能只在实验室，要贴近市场、贴近消费者，总部的研发中心只是一种统筹，主要是制定大的战略方向，打造好的机制，让研发人员愿意到市场一线去。
《21世纪》：问题是如何才能吸引到人才？
梁昭贤：好的管理者，应该是营造出一种人才磁场，要成为最吸引人才的磁铁。能否成为这样的磁铁，一是看企业家的资本实力、有无思想、追求、能力如何、胸怀是否够大；二看利益分配方式，是否有共享机制；三看企业家的组织力，是否可以带团队。
http://www.21cbh.com/HTML/2011-1-10/zMMDAwMDIxNTEzMQ.html
梁昭贤：世界500强里很多公司，总部一直都是在其发家的地方，由此看来，不一定要将公司总部搬迁到中心城市、大城市。地理位置的确是个问题，但如果企业的其他吸引力够强大，是可以弥补地理位置的劣势的。如果格兰仕将总部放到上海，能招到的高层次人才的确会多很多，但在上海，人才的流动性会很大，而在顺德，高层次人才的绝对数没有上海多，但人才的流动性也没有上海大。格兰仕的总部还是要立足广东，面向世界。
当然，研发人才一定要全球化、国际化，此外，研发不能只在实验室，要贴近市场、贴近消费者，总部的研发中心只是一种统筹，主要是制定大的战略方向，打造好的机制，让研发人员愿意到市场一线去。
《21世纪》：问题是如何才能吸引到人才？
梁昭贤：好的管理者，应该是营造出一种人才磁场，要成为最吸引人才的磁铁。能否成为这样的磁铁，一是看企业家的资本实力、有无思想、追求、能力如何、胸怀是否够大；二看利益分配方式，是否有共享机制；三看企业家的组织力，是否可以带团队。
http://www.21cbh.com/HTML/2011-1-10/zMMDAwMDIxNTEzMQ.html
2011年1月14日星期五
杭州下沙百联outlet
coach wallet, black, ￥1,750
san-kelloff, business bag, ￥740
callisto, suits, ￥2,490+1,210=￥3,700×30%=￥1,110
金数码：apple macbook pro
brooks brothers, down-filled coat, ￥1,120+￥1,750
adidas basketball boots, ￥590
wilson badminton racket ￥200
leo
total: ￥7,260
san-kelloff, business bag, ￥740
callisto, suits, ￥2,490+1,210=￥3,700×30%=￥1,110
金数码：apple macbook pro
brooks brothers, down-filled coat, ￥1,120+￥1,750
adidas basketball boots, ￥590
wilson badminton racket ￥200
leo
total: ￥7,260
2011年1月12日星期三
2011年1月5日星期三
2010年12月31日星期五
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