HITA, Oita Prefecture—At 85, Yasuko Nishi is in an age group considered at high risk of severe COVID-19 complications.

But she doesn’t appear to be worried.

Nor does she seem to care about government requests to practice social-distancing and avoid human contact. The “new normal” is quite an old one for Nishi.

“My life hasn’t changed,” she said about the impact of the pandemic. “Not even a little bit.”

Nishi is the last remaining resident of the Minabaru community, part of the former Nakatsue village that was merged into Hita city in the northwestern part of Oita Prefecture.

“There’s not much traffic of people coming in and out of the area to begin with,” she said. “It’s such a lonely place. But at a time like this, it’s better to be in a place like this, isn’t it?”

‘NEVER FEEL ALONE’

From her one-story house, it takes about a 30-minute drive to get to the central part of Nakatsue, where the area’s only hospital and post office stand.

Abandoned houses and ramshackle barns covered by thick grass dot the winding mountain path that connects Nishi’s home and a prefectural road that leads to the downtown area.

Minabaru becomes pitch black after sundown, and Nishi uses a flashlight when walking outside at night.

“Wild boars come and eat tree roots and worms,” she said, pointing at small holes on the ground here and there.

On a typical day, Nishi watches TV and takes a walk around the empty neighborhood. She sees fellow humans only a few times a week.

A social welfare worker comes to check on her once or twice a month.

Her eldest son also visits her once or twice a month and takes her out in his car to shop for food and everyday items in neighboring prefectures.

A city-run bus takes senior residents to the hospital. Nishi has also used the bus to get to a day service facility. But the service was suspended because of the novel coronavirus outbreak.

Despite her life in solitude, she said she does, in fact, have a “neighbor.”

“We’ve ended up being left alone, me and Tenmangu,” Nishi said with a beaming smile on her heavily creased face.

Tenmangu is an aging shrine in Minabaru, where Nishi offers sake and sacred “sakaki” leaves once a month.

“I never feel alone because Tenmangu-san is here with me.”

When autumn rolls around, she enjoys gathering and boiling edible wild plants to make “tsukudani.”

GOLD MINE AND GOLDEN BOOT

Nishi has remained in Minabaru since her family moved there from another community in Nakatsue village when she was in her 10s.

She recalled the days when dozens of villagers lived together, cultivated the precipitous terrain and made their livings through agriculture and forestry.

“I helped with everything, from cedar pruning to rice planting, except for work with chainsaws. That was my father’s job,” she said.

In her mid-20s, Nishi married a man of the same age from the community. She became a widow about 40 years ago.

Her two sons left Minabaru. One relocated to another community in the village while the other moved to a different prefecture.

Gradually, the number of residents in Minabaru decreased.

Several years ago, a woman in Nishi’s age group started living in a nursing home in Hita, leaving Nishi all by herself in Minabaru.

The population of Nakatsue village peaked at more than 7,500 in the 1930s. The Taio gold mine, once nicknamed “the best in the east,” enriched the village at the time.

But after World War II, part of the village became submerged because of dam construction. The gold mine was closed in 1972.

Still, Nakatsue village rose to fame as the host town for the Cameroon national soccer team during the 2002 World Cup held in Japan and South Korea.

The team arrived in Nakatsue five days behind schedule, but the residents waited so patiently and enthusiastically that domestic and foreign media fell in love with the village.

The special bond formed between the villagers and the players, including star striker Patrick Mboma, became one of the more endearing stories from the event.

ACCEPTING THE END

Things quickly changed after the village was integrated into Hita in March 2005.

The population of Nakatsue was 1,312 when the municipal merger occurred. By the end of February this year, it had dropped to 741, and more than 50 percent of the villagers are elderly. Some communities have disappeared.

All residents of the former village formed a community organization in October 2018. Members help each other with chores, such as shopping, managing transportation services to and from the hospital, and organizing events.

The group’s goal is not necessarily a revival of the aging and depopulated community.

“I just want residents to feel truly good about having lived in Nakatsue when their time has come,” said Eiji Nagase, the 58-year-old secretary-general of the organization.

Ryoji Tsue, 73, who chairs the group, agrees that it would not be realistic to try to increase the population by encouraging young people to move back or relocate to the depleted communities.

“That’s difficult. We don’t have jobs desirable for young people, nor a place for shopping,” Tsue said.

“Rather than having a pessimistic attitude about aging and depopulation, I want us to think about ways to live with fun and happiness. That is more beneficial, don’t you think?” Tsue added.

For Nishi, moving out of the village is not an option nor a consideration.

“Sometimes I feel inconvenienced. But I grew up here, and so did my parents. It’s my destiny to die here,” Nishi said.

She knows, however, that the end of her life will also spell the end of the Minabaru community.

“In 10 years or so, nobody will be here,” the octogenarian said. “Then nobody will take care of Tenmangu-san. That’s my only concern.”