Radiation forced tens of thousands to evacuate, turning towns and villages into no-go zones. Today, neighbourhoods closest to the plant are trapped in time. Homes have fallen into disrepair and weeds and other plants have been left to swallow up pavements, roads and once well-tended gardens, while boar and other wild animals roam the streets. But a little further out, there are signs of recovery : new shops, restaurants and public buildings catering to the small number of people who have decided to return.
Rail services are being restored and roads have reopened. The Japan leg of the torch relay for the Tokyo Olympics will start at J Village, once the base for the response to the crisis, now restored to its previous role as a football training complex. But these are modest gains. In areas that have been declared safe for human habitation, many residents have decided to stay away, citing radiation fears, especially for their children, and a lack of medical facilities and other social infrastructure.
Workers at Fukushima Daiichi are battling with huge quantities of radioactive water, while decommissioning the plant is expected to take at least four decades. Seimei Sasaki became a local celebrity during the eight years he spent living in temporary housing for evacuees.
He was part of a group of residents who built a sense of community through daily early-morning exercise routines. At 93, he is a dedicated driver who can be spotted on the roads in the Odaka district, where his family put down roots almost years ago. The landowner-forester has just moved back into his grand old wooden house. His three sons and their families are near by, but Sasaki insists on fending for himself β a determination he attributes to his samurai ancestors β even if it means spending long periods alone.
The neighbourhood was home to people, but only 23 β with an average age of over 70 β have returned, he says, before reeling off their family names.
