Fukushima, Japan. I want to play outside.

“Why has the world abandoned us?” she asked, eyes brimming with tears.

That was the first question the twelve-year old girl asked me when I went back to Fukushima, Japan.

I shrugged my shoulder. “I don’t know why.”

She wiped back her tears. “I used to be able to play in the forests, swim in the rivers and ocean, but I can’t now – they’re too contaminated with radiation.”

I didn’t say anything - couldn’t say anything. I just stared out over the rice paddy – a lush green carpet that stretched into the distant hills. It looked so normal.

“I’m not even allowed to play outside,” she mumbled.

I looked at the girl. Eyes wet with tears that stared out from above the surgical mask she wore constantly to lessen here intake of radiation. I tried to say something, but the words got stuck in my throat.

“Why has the world abandoned us? You adults told us it was safe clean energy – but you lied and now you won’t help us.”

I nodded.

“You lie that everything is okay, but my friends are sick – some have cancer. Why don’t you help us?”

I wanted to say it would be okay, but couldn’t.

“Why do you use such a dangerous energy if you don’t know how to fix it when it breaks?” She paused and a small scarlet stain appeared on her mask.

I stared at the stain. “Are you all right?”

She slid her mask down and a trickle of blood seeped from her nose.

“It sometimes happens,” she said, tearing off a piece of tissue and stuffing it in her nose. “It’s the food.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have to eat and drink contaminated food and water.” She slid the mask back up, her eyes moist with tears.

I went over to the table and took out a clean mask and handed it to her.

“I’m afraid to go outside,” she sobbed.

I helped her change the mask.

She looked into my eyes. “You teach us to share and not to be greedy, to clean up our mess, to help ones in need, but why don’t you help us?”

I stared back in silence.

 “You lie, you always lie to us. You tell us to be kind and to forgive, but you fight war after war. Why do you waste so much money on destruction when so many children around the world are sick and starving?” Why do you pollute our planet with out considering the children who will inherit it? You are all mothers and fathers – don’t you love your children?

“I’m sorry.” Was all I could say.

“I wanted show my children and grandchildren the beautiful beaches, lakes and mountains in Fukushima – take them skiing and hiking. But I can’t. I will never be able to – you have destroyed my beautiful home.” She laid her face in her hands and cried. “You destroyed my home out of greed.”

I put my arm around her, but I couldn't muster any words of comfort – I knew she was right.

“Why are you here?” she whimpered.

“I’ve come to help,” I whispered.

“How?”

“I’ve written a book. I want to tell the world what is happening to you.”

She broke from me and then bowed deeply. “Arigatou gozaimasu. Thank you so much.”

“I returned her bow. “Douitashimashite. You’re welcome.”

I put my arm around her again and she clung to me as if she was too frightened to let go. I wondered why the world had abandoned her and children like her. How can we sleep peacefully knowing we could do something to help?

You can help by purchasing the book. 100% of royalties go to 'Help Save the Fukushima  KIds.'