This is a photo book I'm sending to Charlotte, our resident girl who wants to save the world. (I have fun stuff for you too!) I want to introduce my very good friend, a truly extraordinary photojournalist, whom I hope one day will be at least nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize.
He has done the most documentation in the world of the harm done by depleted uranium of non-nuclear weapons. If you vaguely remember the term "Gulf War Syndrome," illnesses suffered by veterans of the first war on Iraq, this is the disease I am referring to. His work is primarily on the effects of depleted uranium in Iraq. American and British military also suffer health defects and yet they are gagged. If they talk publicly about their medical conditions, they are cut off from compensation packages. Information about Morizumi's work internationally are done by these two organizations. It is everyone's hope that his work may one day stop depleted uranium from being used. Or even better, war from happening.
(check out the speech of then 13-year-old Charlotte Aldebrein!)
But my blog isn't really about campaigning for him. It's MY blog and so it's about ME and memories of my time spent with him. It's about the human being behind the politics.
Before I had children, Morizumi and I travelled everywhere together -- America, the Philippines, China, Korea, Hong Kong. Sometimes for my stories, sometimes for his. Besides my husband there probably isn't another man I feel more comfortable around. Funny things happen on our trips.
My favorite story of us though is in rural Washington state when we were doing a story called America's nuclear victims. (See Atomic Harvest by Michael d'Antonio. I wish I had the time to write everything I saw, the people I met on that trip...) We went to record testimonies of survivors and relatives of victims who are scattered throughout America's heartland.
The trip was almost three weeks. The poor man was so homesick for Japanese food.
Towards the end of the trip, we had stopped at yet another roadside diner. Happily, I order my chicken fried steak with extra gravy and rhubarb crumble, warmed with vanilla ice cream. He ordered a chicken sandwich and salad.
"What kind of dressing would you like?" asked the waitress with a rural twang.
He understood the question and answered, "Soyr saucer preaser." (Japanese people have this thinking that if they add an "r" to every syllabel, somehow what they say will end up sounding more American.) The waitress had a puzzled look.
"Soyr saucer preaser," he repeated.
She turned to me and asked desperately, "Does he want... a beer?" It was funny, but sad really because I was the only one of the three who thought it was funny. I ordered oil and vinegar. I added salt and pepper, tossed his salad and said,"It's not American dressing, it's global dressing." He smiled.
The next day, I turned to the Yellow Pages in the motel room to look for any semblance of Asian food. Found a Japanese/Chinese take-out place. Now I avoid Japanese food because it would be such a bastardization of it, in his state, he may just weep at the sight of Utah's interpretations of what is Japanese. So I went with Chinese. Ordered fried rice, chop suey and some dumplings. They tasted okay!! I took the little packets of soy sauce and saved them. At the next diner, I ordered steak and baked potatoes for him and sprinkled his platter with the dark Chinese soy sauce (which is different from Japanese, but on steak, it would still seem Asian.) He looked at me and had tears.
In 2003, when the second Bush attacked Iraq, Morizumi became a socio-political world celeb. He had exhibitions worldwide, was on the most important Japanese news programs, had a full lecture circuit. It was also the most sleepless time for me when I was most busy with two toddlers. He'd call and write and I never attended more than one exhibit.
At one point, he asked me all upset, "Am I too famous for you to hang out with?" I laughed. For me motherhood was a full time obsession. Issues of world peace and human rights still mattered but my frontline was fixing tantrums and educating my children to be good, moral little beings.
He is nowhere as busy as he used to be now. We sometimes chat, talk about doing some smaller project together. Nothing has materialized so far. I adore this man. Our relationship is proof of what I once was. I don't regret that my priorities are now different. I look back and think, wow, I did awesome things back then! And I made a very special friend who will always be in my heart whereever he goes.
