In the evacuated zone around the Fukushima nuclear power plant, 5 years after the disaster, the village of Tomioka is still empty of its 15,000 inhabitants. Only a handful of people still live in this radiation-hot land.
The Hangaï have decided to continue cultivating their land. The Sato family, convinced that repopulation is possible, are gradually moving back into their home, with the intention of resettling there in the near future. Matsumura, with his elderly father, takes care of the animals abandoned in the aftermath of the nuclear accident. He was the first to refuse the evacuation order. In his own way, making his life a symbol, he bears witness and campaigns for a nuclear-free world.
While the “decontamination” work orchestrated by the Japanese government seems derisory and futile in the face of the scale of the human and ecological earthquake, the seemingly unreasonable yet peaceful existence of these diehards reminds us that a piece of land is, as a last resort, our surest link to the world.
In the evacuated zone around the Fukushima nuclear power plant, 5 years after the disaster, the village of Tomioka is still empty of its 15,000 inhabitants. Only a handful of people still live in this radiation-hot land.
The Hangaï have decided to continue cultivating their land. The Sato family, convinced that repopulation is possible, are gradually moving back into their home, with the intention of resettling there in the near future. Matsumura, with his elderly father, takes care of the animals abandoned in the aftermath of the nuclear accident. He was the first to refuse the evacuation order. In his own way, making his life a symbol, he bears witness and campaigns for a nuclear-free world.
While the “decontamination” work orchestrated by the Japanese government seems derisory and futile in the face of the scale of the human and ecological earthquake, the seemingly unreasonable yet peaceful existence of these diehards reminds us that a piece of land is, as a last resort, our surest link to the world.