「イノシシもおらん」リニア工事で枯れた水、歩いて見えた地方の怒り
"Even the Boars Are Gone": The Drying Waters and Local Anger Over the Linear Shinkansen Construction
The following text is a summary and translation of a personal, individual report by an Asahi Shimbun transportation reporter who spoke to people affected by the construction of the Shinkansen Line in the Shizuoka region.
Source: https://www.asahi.com/articles/AST373S9 ... E019M.html Accessed 2025-03-12
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Source: https://www.asahi.com/articles/AST373S9 ... E019M.html Accessed 2025-03-12
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Source: https://www.asahi.com/articles/AST373S9 ... E019M.html Accessed 2025-03-12For the past two years, I had been wearing the same sturdy hiking sneakers for my reporting assignments. The soles had worn down, a testament to the countless miles I walked through rural communities in the Tokai region, speaking with residents and uncovering their stories. These journeys not only revealed the rich history and charm of these areas but also exposed the frustrations of people whose lives are often disrupted by urban-centric development.
One such case emerged in February last year in Okute, a district in Mizunami City, Gifu Prefecture. The area's water sources, including shared wells and household boreholes, suddenly began to dry up. By March, even the historic “Tenno-sama’s Well,” which had held water for 300 years, had gone dry. A local woman in her seventies lamented the sight of a cracked, empty pond that once teemed with life: “I’ve never seen it like this. The frogs used to be so loud; now, there’s nothing.”
The cause? The ongoing tunnel construction for the Linear Chuo Shinkansen. By May, JR Tokai admitted the project’s impact and implemented emergency measures, switching affected households to municipal water supplies.
As a transportation reporter, I spent two days investigating the water crisis, walking through the small community of 140 people. That’s when I met Tatsujii Hasegawa, a 79-year-old former agricultural cooperative worker.
“We struggled with water shortages here,” he explained. “So, we built our own water sources. There used to be so much water that even wild boars would wallow in the mud. But now, they’re gone. It’s devastating.”
Hasegawa led me to one of the community’s vital water sources. We entered the cedar forest, walking until a rusted pipe emerged from the hillside. He removed a stone cover, revealing clear mountain water trickling through the pipe—one of the few remaining sources sustaining the community.
Okute is a basin surrounded by mountains, with no major rivers. Sixty years ago, summer droughts forced residents to ration water, leading them to create their own sources. This history explains their deep respect for water and their heightened awareness of its depletion.
Hasegawa gently placed the stone lid back over the pipe. “They say we’ll get alternative water, but it’s not the same.”
Until I visited the site and spoke with the residents, I had never fully grasped how essential water was to them. Growing up in an urban environment with an extensive water supply network, I had taken it for granted. Understanding why people revere water and fear its disappearance requires walking their land, listening to their stories, and learning their history firsthand. Through walking, their lives and struggles came into view.
Accurate data and records can form the basis of a report, but some emotions—grief, frustration, anger—can only be truly understood by seeing and hearing them directly. As I transition to my new role as a photojournalist in Osaka, I hope to continue walking the ground and uncovering stories that matter.
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Source: https://www.asahi.com/articles/AST373S9 ... E019M.html Accessed 2025-03-12
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Source: https://www.asahi.com/articles/AST373S9 ... E019M.html Accessed 2025-03-12