Japanese boy teaches lesson in sacrifice

{THIS letter, written by Vietnamese immigrant

Ha Minh Thanh working in Fukushima as a

policeman to a friend in Vietnam, was posted

on New America Media on March 19. It is a

testimonial to the strength of the Japanese

spirit, and an interesting slice of life near the

epicenter of Japan 's crisis at the Fukushima

nuclear power plant. It was translated by NAM

editor Andrew Lam, author of "East Eats West:

Writing in Two Hemispheres." Shanghai Daily

condensed it. }

Brother,

How are you and your family? These last few days,

everything was in chaos. When I close my eyes, I

see dead bodies. When I open my eyes, I also see

dead bodies.

Each one of us must work 20 hours a day, yet I

wish there were 48 hours in the day, so that we

could continue helping and rescuing folks.

We are without water and electricity, and food

rations are near zero. We barely manage to

move refugees before there are new orders to

move them elsewhere.

I am currently in Fukushima , about 25 kilo

meters away from the nuclear power plant.

I have so much to tell you that if I could write

it all down, it would surely turn into a novel

about human relationships and behaviors

during times of crisis.

People here remain calm - their sense of dignity

and proper behavior are very good - so things

aren't as bad as they could be. But given another

week, I can't guarantee that things won't get to

a point where we can no longer provide proper

protection and order.

They are humans after all, and when hunger

and thirst override dignity, well, they will do

whatever they have to do. The government is

trying to provide supplies by air, bringing in

food and medicine, but it's like dropping a

little salt into the ocean.

Brother, there was a really moving incident. It

involves a little Japanese boy who taught an

adult like me a lesson on how to behave like a

human being.

Last night, I was sent to a little grammar school

to help a charity organization distribute food

to the refugees. It was a long line that snaked

this way and that and I saw a little boy around

9 years old. He was wearing a T-shirt and a pair

of shorts.

It was getting very cold and the boy was at the

very end of the line. I was worried that by the

time his turn came there wouldn't be any food

left. So I spoke to him. He said he was at school

when the earthquake happened. His father

worked nearby and was driving to the school.

The boy was on the third floor balcony when

he saw the tsunami sweep his father's car away.

I asked him about his mother. He said his house

is right by the beach and that his mother and

little sister probably didn't make it. He turned

his head and wiped his tears when I asked

about his relatives.

The boy was shivering so I took off my police

jacket and put it on him. That's when my bag

of food ration fell out. I picked it up and gave

it to him. "When it comes to your turn, they

might run out of food. So here's my portion.

I already ate. Why don't you eat it?"

The boy took my food and bowed. I thought he

would eat it right away, but he didn't. He took

the bag of food, went up to where the line ended

and put it where all the food was waiting to be

distributed.

I was shocked. I asked him why he didn't eat it

and instead added it to the food pile. He answered:

"Because I see a lot more people hungrier than I

am. If I put it there, then they will distribute the

food equally."

When I heard that I turned away so that people

wouldn't see me cry.

A society that can produce a 9-year-old who

understands the concept of sacrifice for the

greater good must be a great society, a great

people.

Well, a few lines to send you and your family

my warm wishes. The hours of my shift have

begun again.

Ha Minh Thanh