Tribute to Akiko

After Akiko interviewed me for her article in the Daily Tohoku, she went back to Hachinohe, and I didn’t see or hear from her again. She was obviously continuing her work as a journalist, and I saw the piece she published about me and Bonsai for Life. I thought it was fine, but we didn’t stay in touch. What I did hear later was that on the afternoon of March 11th, 2011, Akiko left Hachinohe and drove toward some of the worst hit areas. Over the next 10 days or 2 weeks, she worked tirelessly, reporting from the devastated communities. I wasn’t in touch with her then. Everything I learned came afterwards through the media, but it became very clear she had done something quite extraordinary. Her on-the-spot reporting was widely recognized. The Daily Tohoku used her work extensively, and national outlets picked up her footage and accounts. From everything I heard, she did an amazing job; she just kept working. I’d only known her briefly, so I can’t claim to know what those days were like for her, but it sounded very much like the Akiko I had met.

After those first days reporting from the areas hit by the tsunami, Akiko eventually came back to Hachinohe and went back to her newspaper work. I can only assume she was deeply affected by what she had seen and experienced, but that’s only an assumption. We weren’t in contact then. Much of what I learned came later, from people who had worked directly with her. They told me that when she came back, she seemed like a different person. They were worried about her and about her health. Eventually, her department head suggested she take some time off to recover. From what I was told, she made sure her disaster reports were properly completed, and then she went home to her apartment in Hachinohe to rest. I think everyone expected that she’d eventually return, but she never did. I later heard that she had gradually withdrawn from friends and colleagues, and was no longer part of the social life she’d had there. Then in December 2011, she was found dead in her apartment. She had apparently been there for several days, and everything pointed to her having taken her own life.

When I heard about Akiko's death, I remember feeling a disbelief I couldn't quite place. We hadn't been close friends, just those few days during the interview and some messages afterwards, but when someone sits with you and listens, really listens, you feel something of who they are. By the time I learned what had happened, we were all still stumbling through the aftermath of the tsunami, trying to understand what had been taken from so many. She'd gone into those shattered places and heard things most of us can barely imagine. Her death felt like one more brutal consequence, not of the waves themselves, but of everything that lingers after. I still think of that woman with the notebook across from me and wish I'd known her better. I wish her story had continued.

Owen Goodwin, 2012