The changing of the seasons has a
special place in Japan. Though
surrounded by this beauty, we
struggle to adjust to the culture.
The changing of the seasons has a
special place in Japan. Though
surrounded by this beauty, we
struggle to adjust to the culture.
Spring has finally arrived and with it cherry blossom season. I had heard that cherry blossom season was important in Japan, but I thought it was simply because of their beauty. An orchard in blossom is a beauty to behold, but it is more than that. It is the celebration of the changing of the seasons. It is a time for a family outing beneath its boughs. Or for a late night company party. And it is a time to reflect on the beauty and fleetingness of life. A cherry tree only blossoms for a short period of time, quickly losing its petals in a gentle and exquisite snowfall. For the Japanese such is life, beautiful and fleeting. There is a traditional Japanese song which most Americans associate with things Oriental that is entitled "Sakura", cherry blossom. It is hauntingly beautiful melody, sad but lovely. So beneath the gently falling cherry blossoms people reflect the beauty of life with their family, or among company parties its fleetingness by eating, drinking and being merry... .
We are now surrounded by water. So much so that Seiwa looks like it is an island. Spring rice planting season has arrived. The rice paddies are prepared by first ploughing and then flooding them, effectively controlling weeds. Rice seedlings have just been planted so that the paddies all look to have sprouted a green mist. There is something reassuring in seeing these paddies filled with the promise to come. I find myself praying over them as I walk by that they would be fruitful and the people would turn to the Living God in thanksgiving. "Lord, give us this day our daily bread."
Shannon has just started 1st Grade while Heather begins 4th Grade. Seeing them get ready for school and then walking off to the streetcar stop with their backpacks, laughing, talking never fails to warm my heart. They are making good progress in learning Japanese; much, much better than their parents. Unfortunately, Heather's 3rd Grade teacher who spoke English is not her current teacher. So now even though she can catch a lot of what is being said, sometimes she comes home confused about what her homework assignment actually is. Shannon seems to be adjusting to her new school pretty well. Currently, school is only half days for her, but that will change. Heather has joined an Origami club at school. Both girls tool around the house singing Japanese songs and talking in Japanese to each other. They're getting real good at speaking English with a Japanese accent (called Katakanese): "I speeku goodo engarishu." We particularly like the sound of the word "groovy" in Katakanese: "garuubi."
We have been attending a Nazarene church in Kochi, whose pastor teaches at Seiwa part-time. What attracted us to this particular church is that the pastor, his wife and several of the 30 person congregation speak English. In addition they, sing in Japanese, praise choruses, complete with guitar. But one of its biggest attractions for us is that the pastor's wife comes back to the back row where we are sitting and quietly translates the sermon.
One Sunday during the sermon, the pastor was telling a joke to illustrate a certain point. The translation, so graciously provided, was setting up the joke nicely, and I was looking forward to the punch line. The pastor spoke, the congregation laughed, and we waited, but no translation came. Instead she followed the speaker on to the next point. We never did get the punch line. Sometimes it seems that such is our life in Japan, a joke without the punch line.
We are particulary tired of being unusual. Every time we go to some public place we get stares and giggles. It seems worse for me and Heather, perhaps because of my height and Heather's very blond hair. Just this past weekend I went into the local shopping mall and saw some pants on a rack outside a clothing store. As I was looking through them in the off chance that they have the LLL size to fit me, three sales clerks watched, which was OK. But then one of them began to giggle and continued until finally she had to leave. I figured my fly must have been open. But it wasn't and I left a little embarrassed and angry.
I realize that some of our problem stems from being in such a rural and remote location of Japan. It's just been within the last 4 years that a bridge has been built to connect the island of Shikoku where we live with the main island of Honshu. And the expressway connecting Kochi to the bridge was only opened last month. There just haven't been many non-Orientals in Kochi. In all honesty though, we too have fallen prey to gaijin gawking. It's not uncommon that weeks go by without our seeing a Caucasian face. So when we visited the cosmopolitan port city of Kobe and were doing some shopping, Shannon whispered to us and pointed, "Look, there are two gaijin!" I was about to reprimand her when I realized that I too had been staring!
I have been challenged and edified by the words of Romans 12 in the midst of our difficulties. I am reminded of the mercies of God. I am reminded that true worship of God starts with the living sacrifice of ourselves, not with familiar and comforting settings, songs or worship services. I am reminded that even in Japan I am part of the body of Christ, even if I feel more like a hangnail than an eye or a hand. I am challenged to loving service that considers others before myself, be that the humble service of housekeeping for my family or teaching English. Lastly, the temptation within the throes of culture shock is to become hostile to the host culture. Romans 12 exhorts me when I become testy to live in peace with everyone and to honor others above myself.