Hello, Kitty!

Aren't these kitties cute? Maren, this blog post is just for you.
Love and kittens,
Joyce

i am what puffy likes to eat.

I want to help all of you to understand how strange both Japan and my job are. Here are some of the things I have been told to say in class in the last few days:

"Constipated! Constipated! Constipated!"
"I always cover my dung." "I always cover my dung."
"I am what Puffy likes to eat." "I am what Puffy likes to eat."

I didn't dare ask who, or what, a Puffy was. The whole sentence sounded wrong. But I was supposed to be a crab. That much I was sure of. I'm thinking Puffy might have been Buffy, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Does anyone watch that show? Does Puffy like crab?

Now I'm going to tell you the story of constipated!

Due to senior graduation, my schedule has been completely turned on its head and I am now teaching with 3 English JTEs with whom I have never taught before. One of these people is insane. This story isn't about him though. One of these teachers is the new bright and shiny part of my day. Here's the only photo I have of him (which may give you an idea of why he is AWESOME).

On Friday we went to 2-6 together. I walk in. Class hasn't started yet. He tells me, onaka ga itai (my stomach hurts). Oh, I'm sorry I say. He turns back to the podium and leans on it, tapping his fingers restlessly and staring out at the class as they chatter amongst themselves. A few moments pass in silence, as I stand next to him and stare out at the class as well. From the serious look on his face I pick up with a quick peripheral glance, I assume we are contemplating their education, their futures, the fate of Okinawan... but then he turns back to me, blinks from behind his glasses and says in dead seriousness,

"I have diarrhea."

Ehhh, oh. I stutter back. He takes that as words of condolence, he nods, turns back out to face the class and exclaims in Japanese, "I have diarrhea!" "I have diarrhea, today my stomach doesn't feel good! Gas!"

Oh, too bad. The kids are in sympathy. Right, they don't seem to think this is weird. Then they start talking in Fast Japanese (a language I don't speak well) for a few minutes. Sensei turns back to me and says,

Yes, can you please write it on the board?

Uhhh, write what? I stutter again.

Diarrhea, yes please could you please give us the spelling? He nods encouragingly.

Well, you all know my spelling abilities. Like, as if each one of these blog entries doesn't get spell-checked twice and still have mistakes. I tell him I don't actually know how to spell that.

More Fast Japanese with students.

How about the other one? He queries. You know, Hand motions at his rear-end, then stomach and a bit of a batsu X made with his hand. Then ... No!

Luckily, I have become very good at figuring such speech out. Don't think that time has been spent in vain, ha!

Constipated? I ask.

Yes! That's right! Can you please share with us the spelling of that word on the board?

Suuuuuuure I can! I pick up a piece of pink chalk and write CONSTIPATED in giant block letters. Everyone stares at it.

Con-, conpi-, consuto-, conupa-, consuchi- Sensei tries to pronounce the word a few times in vain. The kids are also looking at it as if it is a habu snake.

Please, Joyce. You will read for us? Well, ok!

This is how I find myself shouting, "constipated!" "constipated!" "constipated!"

Everyone, try to repeat after Joyce! Sensei shouts, clearly enjoying himself (but not for any of the obvious reasons. Simply because we are learning new vocabulary).

I watch a sea of 30 kids frunch their brows and chorus, "conusuchipeeeto!"
Over. And over. And over again.

Wait, it gets better. Then sensei decides we need to practice this new word. He goes down the rows of students and one by one, asks each of them,

"[name], are you constipated?" Followed by a friendly smile and fatherly blink from behind his glasses. "No, I'm not constipated" answered each student. Until we got to the third row. Then, the kid in front answered, "Yes! I'm constipated!" Oh, the honesty. It kills me.

Tell me readers: what would happen in your respective cultures if an uncool, lanky kid in glasses in the front row said "I am constipated!" in front of the entire class? Not what happened here (and don't worry for not having figured out that this was coming, if you didn't. I wasn't expecting it at the time either).

You are?! Yes!!! Cries the teacher. Everyone claps. You are a winner, he informs the child. But hold on. We continue up and down the rows, just to make sure that no more constipated winners are lurking amongst us. As the last boy answers, "no I am not constipated," the teacher whirls around, races back to Lanky Glasses, grabs his arm and yanks him to his feet with a fist in the air shouting "You are the Champion! You are the champion!" and we have another round of applause, plus a few giggles from the kids who are with me on this one (surprisingly few).

What do you think this kid won? No don't guess, it's wrong. After all the cheers he got for not drinking his 8 cups a day, he got quite a disappointing prize. He got sent up to the front of the class to be blessed with a 2-minute real-life ekaiwa (English conversation) practice session with me.

Despite some suggestive eyebrow raises from sensei, I resolutely refused to utilize our new vocabulary and ask the child whether he was constipated during our chat.

Here's a picture of this class. Maybe it will help you understand more about them:

Interesting Facts about Japan #3

* In the coffee section of the ubiquitous beverage vending machines here, there is a drink that I have always found to be surrounded by an air of mystery. UNTIL NOW. It's called "deepresso". Being who I am, I had never put much thought into why this coffee was called that, I just figured it had to do with depression... possibly it was reverse caffeinated? And steered clear. Yesterday, Jeff's ingenious friend J revealed the secret of deepresso: it's deep roasted espresso! But as Jeff points out, this is too long to fit on the can, and the Japanese are a people who very much like to make things shorter.

* There is no Ladies Night in Okinawa, except at the bar where a particular someone (whose name shall remain undisclosed) works. However, there is Ladies Day at the gas station. That's right JET ladies: were you aware that your gas might be 10 cents cheaper than the man's liter if you show up on the right day? You should ask. They've got this on Sunday at my station.

* If you buy a bottle of awamori (Okinawan rice liquor) at an izakaya (Japanese bar), you can consume part of it, and leave the rest there. The bar will keep your bottle in their storage area under your name for up to 2 months, and you can keep drinking from it every time you come.

LEFT: neko-chan guards a bottle of awamori and the bell one rings to get more awamori at a local bar.

* Japanese people are obsessed with point cards. Every place you go in this country has a point-o kaado that they swipe/stamp for you every time you shop there: the grocery store, the gas station, restaurants, department stores. After 7 months here, I must say I have yet to see a single one my point cards bear fruit (and I've got at least 5, cuz my supervisor signed me up for all of them in my first week here). How many hundreds of dollars of groceries do I have to buy at Kanehire before I get my measly 500 yen off??? Like $1,000. Whaaaaat, you're thinking. That's just depressing. Give up the point cards now, or don't even bother. The funny thing is, Japanese people are really enthusiastic about these incentives. I mean, these folks are in it for the long haul. Tell an America that you have to shop at one particular grocery store for 2 years every week and then you'll give them the equivalent of one box of free cereal and they'll rip that up and throw it back in your face. I want my free stuff NOW! I want buy one get one FREE! I want a coupon I can hold in my hand for 50 cents off my next can of kidney beans. Are you guys with me on this? Patience is definitely a virtue that Japanese society has more of than I do. And yet, I'm still handing my point cards over, every time.

I hope you now feel one step closer to understanding my way of life.

the best

AHHH! The funniest valentines day card yet made its appearance yesterday. Here it is.

my Dragon Boat Racing team

ROAR! I may have mentioned to a few of you that I joined a Dragon Boat Racing team several months ago. Japanese Dragon Boat racing is called Harii... or any spelling variation thereof. Its from the Chinese word for `dragon`, so Im told. My team likes to transcribe it Harlee, because our leader drives a Harley motorcycle and he thinks it makes us sound like we`ve got more power between our legs. Eh. Either way our girls team is still called the Pink Pandas so I`m counting on that name counterbalancing any power the harlee punch was packing.

I joined this team one week before they ended seasonal practice and took a 4-month break for winter. I went to some practices but not many people were there, nor did they really involve boats (rather, a large fellow in spandex smiling and shouting for me and Jon to keep up with the ten billion sets of squats we had been roped into, having thought we were just going to `observe`. And then they made Jon roll metal weights up and down his shins and he must have scars to prove it). Meaning that I actually had only met a handful of people on the team, 5 months ago. So this past Saturday I was invited to the team New Years party, despite not really feeling a part of the team or knowing anyone. You're thinking that its a little late for New Years festivities... ah, but you are wrong. We were celebrating the Chinese New Year. Above and to the left you can see what Dragon Boat Racing (which begins in May) looks like.

I almost didn't go to this party, because truth be told I have been doubting the decision to join the Dragon Boat Racing team ever since I made it. In order to protect myself from sounding lame, let me explain the circumstances under which I joined the Pink Panda team. This explanation shall be interspersed with some party photos, to liven it up.

Here you see what I have dubbed the Funnel Of Death. There was a massive earthenware jug full of awamori (which is about 40% alcohol, I think) at our party. The bamboo dipper you see in the photo above was supposed to be used to dip awamori from the jug through a funnel into smaller clay teapots from which people would poor their poison. Around midnight, it began to be used thus instead: to drown poor Shi in alcohol. I hope he was ok the next day. I doubt it.

One night in October I found myself with some friends at Hinotama Hall (our favorite Japanese club). There was dancing, there was merriment, there was beer and loud loud music and that DJ who always makes shirtless appearances after 1am. Due to limited seating, we joined a group of Japanese people at their table. Lo and behold, these friendly folk turned out to be dragon boat racers. As we all swayed to the music in a drunken stupor and shouted to each other in mutually unintelligible languages over the din of blaring music, there came a moment where we felt The Bond of Friendship form. Our hearts beat as one heart! Our glasses clinked against each other to the same unearthly beat! (or was that just the bass?) Im sure you all know the Bond of Friendship from your own experiences being drunk with strangers. Anyway.

JOIN OUR TEAM OUR DRAGON BOAT RACING TEAM!!!!!! They cried to me.

YEEEEEEES! MOCHIRON, OF COURSE! I cried back. Bliss.

It seemed a spectacular idea at the time. Rowing! Something I've never done. Something I have never been (nor am I now) interested in doing. Exercise. Hm, I don't do that. Arms. No, I don't do those either.Japanese men are fine being touchy-feely if they are drunk. Don't you wish Americans were like this? (I know... CFS boys are!!!!! RepreSENT!)

The kimono-wearing girl was given one beer too many.

Well, not being in a high state of genkidom the weekend that this party rolled around (5 months after the Bond of Friendship had worn off), I still managed to drag myself out of the house to the party. I was half planning on telling them I'd given up and they could count me off their team... I'd be no good anyway, only drag them down and whatnot. But just about as soon as the alcohol started flowing, the team chief sat down next to me and began to talk about how wonderful it was that I had joined the team. Because international cooperation is key, and Okinawa really cares about cooperation between Americans and the islanders. They had been distressed for a long time because their men's team was international (having 2 Americans) but their ladies' team had been lagging. For months they have been anguishing: will Joyce actually join us in the Spring (or will she be a lame American, say she will do something and bow out when training starts?) But here I am, and they are filled with joy at my coming. Beam Beam Beam.

Oh. Yeah. Yeah!!!! Of course, I once again ended up enthusiastically agreeing to be on the team. But seriously, the people are great fun, and I think it'll be awesome. Practice starts March 4th. Wish me luck, I'm definitely going to need it.

But getting to wear the funny outfits they wear when racing is going to make up for everything. Plus, the simple fact that I can tell people I'm "on a dragon boat racing team". Deshou?

the secret of nabe

Ok ok, I`ll actually tell you why Nabe is a funny name for my car. Asta is right on: nabe means pot in Japanese. Isnt that funny enough, right there?

My car is Okinawan and clearly female, so after a nomikai (drinking party) one night I asked my female co-workers, "what is a typical Okinawan female name?" Shouko hiccoughs (being somewhat tipsy at the time this occurred), sways, ponders for a moment, raises her index finger and proclaims NABE!. Case closed.

Why would this be a name for a person, you are wondering. Before WWII, it wasn't uncommon for women in Okinawa to be named after common household kitchen items. One of these names was Nabe. So, thats pretty much just weird and hilarious by itself.

A last twist on the story is that the most famous woman poet in Okinawan history (my sources on this are Etsuko sensei and Jeff) was named Nabe. Onna Nabe (Ms. Pot Woman).

So its a good name! Respectibiggle (as some cheerful Marsh-wiggles might say) and full of Okinawan cultural history.

Valentine's Day Class

Yay! Another blog entry where we get to look at student handicrafts. I am doing Vday class this week because last week was finals. We don't let tests get in the way of exposure to American culture though, not here in Japan. Basically I threw colored markers and piles of colored paper at the kids and screeched, "barentainzu!" Then sat down on a chair and ignored them for 50 minutes. Poof. Here's what I got.

Once again, about a dozen thoughtful youngsters made their cards for Joyce Teacher. This one is my favorite. This guy loves me with all of his heat.
Then sometimes it's just nice to see someone this self assured:

And my favorite girl student in the whole school made me this beautiful card. Today was her b-day. You can see that she thanks me for the present I gave her (assorted stickers dug with haste out of my sticker drawer and thrown into my carrot ziplock bag from lunch, 5 minutes before class started, when I remembered her b-day).

My favorite card of all was this one. It was made by a 17 year old boy for his best friend Yoshito, who sits directly beside him. Yoshito was busily making Ryo a love card as well. Watching them scribble away right there beside each other and then exchange cards made my day. Imagine how good you would feel if you got this card from your friend:

Ok, what's up with the Japanese kids drawing eyeballs on all their hearts? Has anyone else noticed this? And the scary chick at the bottom... like, is that what love looks like?

This is how much sense Japanese people make when they speak English. My whole day at school is just nonsense sentences strung together like this card, to which i answer oh reary! and bob my head enthusiastically. The weird thing is, these kids had the Japanese translation of all these sentences on the print out I gave them. It wasn't as if they didn't understand what they were writing. Is this how they talk in Japanese too? I may never know, since I lost all interest in learning the language about one month after I got here (I think I forgot to tell most of you that.)

For some, the card making process was more spiritual than anything else.
And then once again, there were those with imaginary pets as their only loved ones.
Some kids kept the message simple and to the point.
there were those who, in their gleeful haste, failed to remember that this was an exercise in the English Language.
The straightforward:
The wondrously cute and cuddly.
I know I show you the cool ones. At the end of the day, most of them just look like this:

More about that

Wow. I was bombarded with emails about how funny you all thought my kids' test answers were. I guess I've gotten so used to it. I barely even realize the hilarity of Engrish. You know, it's not just tests that bring out funny English. My Every Day functions on a level only marginally above what was exposed in my last post, with most people. I even find myself modifying my speech in the hopes that I will be better understood. No more contractions. Nope. No more articles in places where its clear you don't need them (seriously, who needs articles at ALL anymore? They`re so 90s). These days I'm full of enthusiastic statements like,

`EHHHH?! You will go Tokyo for kurisumasu holiday?! Sugoi!`

An even worse example: I now consistently use then instead of so, in a sentence like,

`My kids have no school today, then, I take holiday leave.`

Japanese people really like to do that. I don't know why. But what they like... Joy-su likes. Except that this is really pronounced (by both myself and others) as den, since Japanese people have trouble with the interdental fricatives. No shame there, those things are tough!

I also have to teach funny English lessons sometimes. If the teacher doesn't ask me to edit their handout, I'm stuck agreeing with their Engrish. The hardest part is reading it out loud to the kids. You really have to concentrate hard to read what they've written and not say it correctly. Look, this is the lesson I taught today (kids got this on their handout too):

Screen de Lesson

Let`s learn English expressions while watching one Sheen of movie `Anastasia` and understand contents of the stories

10 years ago royalty family get separated because of the festivity of Rasputin. Anastasia is too young and does not have any memories of her past is brought up in an orphan home as Anya.This is scene where Anastasia is going to Paris for a trip of search for hereself. But The empress bets the prize money on looking for Anastasia and Anastasia meets with Domitri and Vladimir who aim at the prize money. But She has to get Visa to go to paris and meet with them

Let`s watch the Sheen!
- Expalin a meaning of each word.
- Practice pronaunciation.,

The darartd of Norbanbar and Erebor ate gaybytc on Weduesday.

The horrendous monotony of my day has been broken by Junko-sensei`s tests. She is one of the only senseis that actually takes me up on my desperate offers to grade tests (and you know I must be desperate if grading sounds like fun). Actually, grading tests IS pretty fun, as long as it`s written answers that you can laugh at (as opposed to A, B, C). This is exactly what I got today. Not only was I lucky enough to get written answers, everyone was required to write a 6 line dialogue for the final. Subject: bumping into Joyce in the hallway.

First let me say that Japanese kids rock out the spelling of English words. Not rock in a the sense of getting it right, but rock in an `oh my, that is AWESOMELY wrong but oh so funny` sense. Here are a few of the variations I got on these tests for the following words:

CABBAGE: gaybytc, green bowl, green leaf, cabets, chabet, cavage
DAUGHTER: darartd, douter, dorter, dauter, doughter, dauther
ELBOW: erebor, elbor, adley, elbo, ellbo, aible
WEDNESDAY: wemd day, wenedbay, weduesday (mixed that up with Tuesday!), webnesday
NOVEMBER: norbanbar

Last but definitively not least, a good 50% of the students wrote POPAI for... you guessed it. SPINACH. Not a single student wrote `spinach`. Several wrote hourensou (Japanese), and the rest left it blank. Everyone who didnt do either of those two things wrote POPAI (pop-eye). Lovin` it, y`all.

Now to the dialogues with Joyce. I will give you a few, since I am bored and clearly so are you, if you are blog surfing.













STUDENT Hello Joyce
JOYCE (silence)
STUDENT I Love Joyce
JOYCE (silence)
STUDENT Good bye. Joyce.
JOYCE See you!

STUDENT Hi joyce.
JOYCE How are you?
STUDENT I farin tancs.
JOYCE Farin too.
STUDENT Wart go to cras room?
JOYCE Yes! Bey!

STUDENT Hi Joyce teacher.
JOYCE Hi how are you how was test?
STUDENT Im soso. test was very tiyerd.
JOYCE Oh! Good Job!
STUDENT I felt so difficult is math. Sad.
JOYCE I`m can`t math too :-(

STUDENT Hi Joyce!
JOYCE Hellow, are you going to now?
STUDENT I going to cras room.
JOYCE Oh reary!
STUDENT yes!
JOYCE see you.

STUDENT Hi Joyce techer, How are you?
JOYCE Hi. I fain and you?
STUDENT I`m butt!
JOYCE OH. are you ok? Why?!
STUDENT today is test.
JOYCE I see! dont mind! but are you study very hard to do, FIGHT!!!

STUDENT Hi ms. Joyce. How are you?
JOYCE I fain tank you.
STUDENT It give me chocoreet in Barenterin? Yes who is it?
JOYCE I give she chocoreet for you.

STUDENT Good morning joyce.
JOYCE Hi chihiro.
STUDENT I love Joyce, give chocreat.
JOYCE Realy?
STUDENT Happy velentain!

STUDENT Good morning Joyce.
JOYCE Hi good morning.
STUDENT How are you?
JOYCE I fine and you?
STUDENT I fine thankyou and you?
JOYCE Oh... please listen to my SAYING!
STUDENT I`m kidding I sorry!

なべ the '93 Toyota Starlet

You may or may not know that the Chapman Women have a long tradition of naming our automobiles. Sandi`s poor Charlie (who had a troubled history of drugs and tinted windows) moved on to a new foster family several years back; I laid the faithful Petunia to rest, just before coming to Japan; Ruby Pearl (whose delicious, glossy paint we shall never forget) set out with a new job as a community organizer last year, headed south to work with FLOC (the Farm Labor Organizing Committee). In her place, mom welcomed Juanita (a bio-diesel who is more into character than flash) into the family. And I? I now drive a 1993 Toyota Starlet. Starlets were never marketed in American (go ahead, someone correct me, I know nothing of cars). Here she is:

I know what you're thinking... geez, Joyce is really into the Toyota type. She likes those small little Japanese cars: responsible, reliable, strong in emotional crisis... it's not like that! Pure coincidence, friends.

I blush to say that it has taken me 6 months to decide on a name for the lovely Starlet. But decided it is!

なべ。 Nabe.

If you aren't living in Okinawa, you are probably not guffawing at that name. Ha. It shall remain a mystery to you. Or maybe I'll have more energy to write more about it later.

Odds and Ends (photos)

There are several photos that I keep meaning to post here but... you all know my memory. Now's the time, my friends. Left, you see my first (and most likely last) attempt at Japanese calligraphy. I found myself at a cultural festival in Urasoe City several weeks ago (there was a hoola dancer. There were people pounding mochi with mallets. There were zillions of joyous children running underfoot. There were karate-men and sushi and sandwiches and more.) Most pertinent to our story: there was a calligraphy station. The people running this joint got the idea into their heads that each and every gaijin there should be forced to produce a calligraphic masterpiece. So without explanation I found myself twirled around, a brush pressed into my hand, and bam. There was Peace. That's what this says, peace. I wouldn't mind it, except that they forced me to write my name on the left hand side. Now what am I supposed to do with it? I have a hanging scroll that says, "PEACE, Joy-SU!" Geeeeeez.

Ok, this is another of my artistic masterpieces, since we're on the subject. As I mentioned before, my mother sends me a plethora of mail. This is an example of one of the odd kinds of things that she thinks to put inside the envelopes. It's a baby clown in space, drawn by mom and Joyce, 21 years ago. According to a note from mom on the back, I was still working on mastering the J. As you can see. kawaiiiiiiii!

Lastly, there is a photo of my spankin' new name stamp. Name stamps are very important in Japan. They're called inkan, and someone can steal your identity if they get their hands on your inkan. I've warned you now, don't complain about identity-theft when you move to Japan. My official inkan is really boring because I'm a gaijin. It says, ジョイス (jo-i-su). Today I was nodding off at my desk when Katanosaka (the eccentric and handsome art teacher) enters, stage left. "Junko-sensei!" He exclaims near my head. I jerk awake and almost head butt him in the process. Teachers at my school insist on talking to me through Junko-sensei (my supervisor whose desk is to my right) if she is within a 10ft radius. Never mind that we communicate perfectly alright when we are alone together, they seem to think that once a translator appears, I will no longer understand them. A curse on both your houses! I think with a sullen glower as they talk about me over my head.

Jibber-jabber at lightning speed ensues, then the art teacher grins and shoves a small bamboo piece filled with dry flowers into my confused hands. When I turned this mini-vase over, it turned out to be a hand-carved inkan, with my name in beautimous (though fairly meaningless) kanji. Turns out that he had made this for me as a thank you present about 5 months ago when I baked him a birthday cake. Apparently, no one had celebrated his b-day in 7 years or something before my cake. But hadn't quite had the nerve to give the inkan to me after he made it. Ok. Better late than never? Now I have a kanji name! Scoooooore.

Valentine's Day

Today was Valentine's Day in Japan as well as America. The main difference is that here, February 14th is a holiday where ONLY women give cards or gifts to men. March 14th is a second holiday called White Day. On White Day, it's the dudes turns to give back to the ladies. Aren't Japanese people weird? Come on, that's our holiday anyway. Like, what's up with the splitting it into two pieces and giving materialism twice as much fodder?

According to my friend Rachel, chocolate is the #1 thang to do here on Vday. I was glad to read her blog entry because my teachers had been blathering nonsense to me all week about what they were calling `Duty Chocolate` and I hadn`t a clue what they were talking about. Rachel clarifies on her blog:

There are two specific types of chocolate gifts that should be handed out by women to the men in their lives. One is called giri-choko, which translates as "obligation chocolate" and should be given to male coworkers, friends, etc. There is no implication of romantic feelings, only gratitude and friendship. The other is honmei-choko which is given to a love interest, usually with another small gift, like a necktie.

Anyway, to show Okinawa how much I love her on this fine day, I swam into the ocean and wrote a note to her across the sea... actually no, I just made her this picture on the computer. But that was the idea! Happy Valentine's Day, Okinawa.

Just Another Friday

Every few months my school seems to have these surprise celebrations for unfathomable reasons. I'm sure that everyone else is informed far ahead of time. Usually no one remembers to tell me (since of course multiple notices have appeared in jibber-jabber-kanji in everyones mailboxes and it's been announced a zillion times in jibber-jabber on the intercom) until half an hour ahead of time. Ok. So on Friday it turned out that we would all be attending the gym after lunch for what I've come to expecct as "the usual": girls hip-hop dancing, boys breakdancing, Masayoshi dressed as a goose making lewd sex jokes (teachers trying to get the mike away from him), Kuuske (one of the larger more motorcycle-gangish 3rd years) ripping off his uniform shirt and jumping onto the stage in excitment to join the terrified first-year girls in their pathetic dance-routine, the buck-toothed kid dressed as a geisha (are we laughing with him or at him?), teen rock and punk bands with white towels tied around their heads, and this time something new... stage diving!!!! Yay. Here is my blurry picture of Masa (the goose) stage diving. I would like to add that the first person to try stage-diving was Dan-san. the crowd hurriedly parted and he did a classic belly-flop BAM! right onto the floor.
Here is a photo of Kuuske in the midst of the freshmen girls dance routine:

Here is a photo of the buck-toothed geisha, with whom I choose to laugh, despite the language barrier:

Daito Meets the Big City

This week, Minami Daito Jon is crashing at my place. It`s not often that these distant island-boys like Jon (whose island is a small rock in the ocean, 17 hours by ferry away from the Okinawan mainland, with nothing but sugarcane, 1,500 people, and a karaoke bar) come to visit us in the big city. This time round Jon made the unfortunate decision to see even more of mainland life: he came to school with me. Except actually I was sick and he ended up going to my school by himself. My school is half the population of his entire island. Now, I`m not a Hater. I didn't send Jon to any badly behaved classes. In fact, I sent him to 3 classes that I describe as well-behaved.

On Minami daito there is no high school, bc there aren't enough people. Plus, picture growing up on a rock with 1,500 people. You know everyone and see them every day. The kids are well behaved, don`t have evil influences or motorcycle gangs, etc. Jon said that after his day of classes at Ginowan High, he has a new-found appreciation for Daito kids. Yes, Jon was not impressed by academic excellence at Ginowan High (though he quite enjoyed my students genkidom outside of class). Jon did not find the classes I sent him to well-behaved, as I had described them. So, I had meant that they were quiet. But when I say `quiet` the truth of the matter is that they are completely unresponsive. A lot sleep, the rest are zombies. Won`t talk. Won`t nod. Won`t show a single sign of life. Sullen stares from all sides. But at least they're not yelling, tying each others heads up with tape or standing on the desks. You know. Thats what I`d been thinking when I said well-behaved. Oh well. Its all for the best, as Jon will now go back to his rock a happier man, content with the well-behaved, bright-eyed children that are his to teach. Above is a picture of Jon with 2-3, the one class that did make him happy. They are the best class in school! See if you can find Jon among the crowd.

Shout Out to Mom

Once a few months back I gave my mother a complex by mentioning on the blog that she didn't ever call me on the telephone. So now I want to publicly acknowledge her greatness in other areas.

Oh mother!
You are the only one that sends me snail mail.
Rain or shine, holiday or normal day, news or no news to share... I receive at least one letter from my mother every week here in Okinawa. Six months! My friends. Six months, and I don't think a single week has gone by without a letter or postcard from my wondrous mother. Sometimes theyre cards, sometimes postcards or newspaper clippings, often they consist of fliers from the most recent vigil or peace walk she has been on with messages scribbled around the borders to me and some photos. The best part is that they come completely without rhyme or reason. If its my bday, or xmas, I am sure to expect cards and most likely be disappointed by the small number of them that I receive, because most of you are failures at communicating. (Ha just kidding, trying to keep you on your toes. No really, I'm not kidding, how many postcards do you all get from me and never write me back, huh? You're all losers. Except for a few. I'm giving you a shout out but I'm afraid Ill forget someone... off the top of my head, props to Maren, Cheryl, Rosario, Ainsley, Sven, Sandi!) But on an average day, I don't expect to find more than a preposterous amount of kanji-jibber-jabber-junkmail waiting for me when I arrive home from work. This is why it is so fantastic that my mother sends me so much mail. Can she know whether Ive had a crappy day or a good one? No, but with this volume of mail, a good number of her letters arrive purely by chance at the Right Moment. Feeling down? Feet hurt? Kids naughty today at school? It often just so happens that at such moments, there is a letter from mom waiting in my mailbox.

Thanks mom! You da bomb!!!!

Thai Thai

Last night I went out to eat with my buddy and realized that I have never posted pictures of Thai Thai's on this blog. I thought about it back in September and promptly forgot. This place is the awesomest looking restaurant I've ever eaten in, with the exception of Heaven and Hell in Tokyo... which was just too weird for words. You remember, the dungeon with the toilet face that kissed me and the gong that you had to bang 3 times to enter. To the right above, you see me if you look hard.

To the left, what you see is a table inside a metal blossom of sorts. If you have a party of more than 4, you are seated in a raised metal pod (featured in the photo below). The pods make up the second floor, so to say... at least you have to go up stairs to get there. The entire place is really confusing and I have walked into mirrors, I must admit. And fallen into a crevice while eating. Yup. If you come visit me (and Sandi may prove to be the only taker on that standing offer) then you too will experience the wonders of Thai Thai.

3-4

Today was the last class with 3-4. I baked them peanut butter cookies (a big hit in Japan, btw) and they devoured them. After that, an unexpected ceremony of sorts took place. Each student stood up at their desk, one by one, and gave me a little speech. They were told to say "whatever the wanted" to me. I got a lot of compliments on my baking skills (this not having been the first time they experienced my cookies) and a lot of this-year-was-really-awesome-thank-yous. But I also got a few surprises. This one kid very seriously told me that I am "really cute". Not even an eyelid flutter accompanied it. I looked at the sensei but she didn't seem to think it inappropriate so I thanked him graciously. Two kids told me they love me. Thanks again? One kid asked me if we were allowed to date now that he wouldn't be my student anymore. One kid asked if they could have their parties at my house from now on. Then it was Masaki's turn. Someone kicks him awake, as he is sleeping on his desk. He rubs his eyes, stands up, apologizes for having been naughty all year, then goes back to sleep. Cuuuuute! Another kid who I'd always taken to be a jokester without a serious bone in his body turned out to be the class PRES and gave a bit of a lengthy speech (these are in Japanese) wherein he declared something like, "in life, we will go many places and meet many people. You, too, will move on away from Okinawa and meet many people and have many new experiences. But maybe, someday, we will all meet again." Sniffle sniffle sniffle. This week is full of sniffles.

Then we all had to get together for a group photo (group photos are almost as much of a given as rice in Japan). The cellphone cameras clicked and dazzled us. And then it was over.... alas, I shall miss my kiddies. We'll see if 2-4 (who I don't really know since I don't teach 2nd years) can fill their shoes next semester!

がんばろう!

In the last days of life before adulthood hits them in the face like a sack of bricks, my 3-4 boys performed a remarkable feat. My boys pulled their late-night-partying, motorcycle-drag-racing boot-ays into school at the crack of dawn. Then they drove up north and ran back down. Yup, they RAN from Nago to Ginowan.

Ok, you don't live here so that means nothing to you. In a car, this trip is 1.5 hours on the normal highway, 45 minutes on the expressway... I think its about 80km. 3-4 ran a relay race along the coast, which lasted from 9:30am to 3:30pm. Above, you see their triumphant and weary return to school. The first thing you're probably thinking is that Okinawans seem obsessed with relay marathons, which is true: they are obsessed with marathons in general. But that's not the point.

It is misleading that class number 4 is called the "sports" track. It makes it sound like all its members are extremely athletic. That's not the case. Rather, it's one of those tracks that kids get shuffled into if they don't have a special talent. There`s two IT tracks (1 and 2), and there are tracks for smarties like the international track (5) and we-want-to-go-to-college track (3). Then there are those for people who are all definitely not going to college, and have no idea what will become of them... these are 4, 6, 7, 8. And though the 4 tracks are cool kids at school, they are among those whose anxieties post-graduation run the highest.

This marathon was a がんばろう! ("ganbaroo!") race for the 3-4 before graduation. Ganbaru is a verb very important to Japanese culture. In this case it means, "let's give it our all! Try our best!" The marathon was a tool to pump up the kids` courage for entering the next stage of life; to give them faith in themselves that they can aim to do something difficult and accomplish it. The photo below shows the school awaiting their return. I, of course, found myself sniffling into a hanky... this kind of thing always hits a chord in me. The 1-4 and 2-4 tracks were excused from class to be a part of the return ceremony. In Japan they pay more attention to the relationship between elders and juniors than we do. The 3-4 sports course boys are the role models and seniors (senpai) of the 1-4 and 2-4 sports boys. So below you see one side of the walkway lined with 1-4, and the other side with 2-4, cheering their graduating senpai on.
After they returned, the seniors were asked to stand and give words of wisdom and advice to the youngsters, and the youngsters stood and gave words of encouragement to the elders. It never fails to amaze me how different Japan is in one respect from America: kids here have the capacity to be very serious and sincere, even in front of large groups of peers. They can go from goofy slackers and too-cool-for-school bad-asses to laying their hearts out on the table in a second. Below, one of my best buddies from 3-4 gives a little pose as he crosses the finish line.

Ganbatte, boys! Here comes the rest of life.

It's not Japan

When people ask me how I like living in Japan, I am always surprised. I don't really consider myself to be living in Japan because, well, I'm not. Okinawa is distinct culturally, historically, and distant geographically from mainland Japan. When I was practicing nationalities in class last week, I asked this one kid who hadn't been paying any attention, "are you Japanese?" He stared at me for a second and shook his head. I thought he hadn't understood the question. "JAPANESE?" I repeat. A head shake, and one word mumbled: "uchina." I'm Okinawan. Answered not in English, not in Japanese, but in Okinawan language. These kids are smarter than you think.

Okinawa was its own nation (the Ryukyu kingdom) until it was annexed forcibly by Japan due to its convenient geographical location and the fact that Japan was threatened by an independent, prosperous little nation that could be used as a stepping stone to their own islands by their Enemies. Ha! Sounds like someone you know? If you talk to Japanese people, they know ZIP about Okinawa. Well, I take that back. They know that it is a tropical island convenient for Japanese vacationers to reach without a passport. Hawaii.

Japan announced in 1872 that it was unilaterally abolishing the Ryukyu kingdom. Okinawan officials were replaced with mainland Japanese (sometimes through imprisonment of former Okinawan officials) and the Okinawan king was forcibly exiled to Tokyo. The Meiji gov't withheld economic reforms from Okinawa that vastly benefited the rest of Japan. Though taxes were proportionately much higher in Okinawa than in the other Japanese prefectures, Okinawans were not allowed to be represented in the national Diet until 1912. The Japanese undertook assimilation policy in Okinawa: they repressed Oki religion, spiritual healers, and language (at that point, Okinawans were all spoke Ryukyu languages).

During World War II, Okinawa was caught between the hammer and the anvil, as they say. The largest land battle of the Pacific (the Battle of Okinawa) was fought between Japanese and American troops on Okinawan soil. Did Okinawa have anything to do with the war? No. But they sure paid for it. One third of their civilian population was killed in this battle, and just about everything was razed to the ground. Even the landscape was changed forever. Were American troops responsible for all these deaths? Nope. Japanese soldiers threw civilians out of caves or other hiding places into the middle of battle in order to make room for soldiers. They killed crying babies out of fear that they would give away their hiding spots. They shot people for speaking in Okinawan languages, on the off-chance they might be American spies. Japanese soldiers set up 100s of brothels on the island, forced 100s of Okinawan women into prostitution.



After the war, Okinawa was occupied by the US for 27 years. For decades, American military committed crime after crime, rape after rape, murder after murder on Okinawa, and remained untouched by the law; safe behind their barbed wire and walls. I won't go into detail about the Battle of Okinawa or the occupation, but if you want to read about some gross stuff, read about what one imperial power or another has done to Okinawa for hundreds of years.

When they came, Americans picked the land they wanted and brought in their bulldozers. Families were driven out, houses were destroyed, ton upon ton of crushed coral was spread across the ground that had been family farms for centuries (and coral ruins arable land). Asphalt was put on top. Military bases were built. The Okinawan land-owners are paid "rent" every year for their land, but they are not given the choice of whether they want to lease it. When the time came for renewel of the land leases, many families refused to sign. Governor Ota (the best governor Okinawa ever had) refused to sign for them, standing firm for his people's rights. Going against their own constitution, mainland Japan broke the law, and allowed the military to remain on the land. In a famous case, one fellow and his family were allowed to enter a base under guard for 2 hours and eat a picnic lunch on their land. It was the first time most of them had seen it.

Now Okinawa "belongs" to Japan again. But nothing has changed. Time after time, the mainland breaks promises that have been made, sacrifices Okinawa's well-being for its own interests. Before '72, many Okinawans struggled for reversion to Japan, assuming that US bases and military personnel would be removed. Where they? No. They're all still here, over 30 years later. Okinawa is less than 1% of Japan's landmass, yet hosts most of the US military presence in Japan. Why? It's ok for them to be down here, in Okinawa. But talk about bringing them into your own backyard, and the Japanese citizens would be up in arms in an instant. Who pays the rent money to Okinawans for US bases? Japan does, not America. What is required by Japan of the Americans when they leave Okinawa? Not much. They don't have to return the land in the same state they found it in. They don't have to remove dangerous chemicals or clean it up at all. What will Okinawans get, if and when they finally win back what is their own? What was once miles of farming land will be more of a wasteland.

We can think of Okinawa as Japan's offering to the United States, post WWII. The sacrificial goat.

Okinawan is currently Japan's poorest prefecture. The unemployment rate here is double that of mainland Japan, and many jobs that do exist are service industry. There are more gambling parlors, tourist shops, and restaurants than anyone could ever know what to do with. It's coming time for graduation at Ginowan High, so these things are ever-present in my mind. In the last few months, seniors have become more subdued. They don't play as much, they look tired and serious. Seniors at my school know that childhood is about to be over, and next month, they will be forced into the world of adults. What awaits them there? My kids aren't high achievers. 80% of them already have part-time jobs, most are from poor families. A lot have trouble at home and act it out at school. In the main hallway, we've got this display:
It's a list of what the future holds for all graduating seniors. On each ribbon is printed the name of a student who has a plan, post-graduation. One line represents those who have been accepted to technical schools, one line those who have found employment, etc. To the far left, you can see a sign that reads "53.1%: 112/211". This is a rolling count of how many graduating seniors have found jobs or a place in a school. Every week, the teachers receive printouts in our mailboxes with pictures of students who were successful that week in finding a job. Every time a kid passes a test for a technical school, it's announced at morning meeting and we all clap and cheer. Because life isn't easy for these kids on this island.

This week is the seniors last week of classes. We're still at 53.1%. What will the remaining 50% of our seniors do? Probably, they will all continue on in their current jobs. They'll be bumped from part-time to full time at the gas station, the grocery store, the cellphone shop. This island could have a better employment rate, could move away from service-industry based jobs if Japan would agree to funnel more money into development and infrastructure. But they won't. Okinawa has presented several plans of economic development that they would like to consider as an alternative to the bases. For example, a free trade zone plan that would make Okinawa a middle man of imports from the rest of the world into Japan. This would create jobs, boost the standard of living, seems like a good plan... but mainland would never allow it. Reading about such a conflict makes you realize that Okinawa would be much better off as an independent nation.

Okinawa is a Japanese colony when you get down to it. Mainland takes, but it doesn't give back as far as I'm concerned. Japan is sucking as much as they can get out of this little island and its people. I wonder what Japan plans to do, once it's finished killing all the coral and paving the beaches with landing pads.