Thank You For Taking Care Of Me

After work, I went drinking with Kumiko, The Handsome Businessman, and Masakazu. After turning down a very subtle invitation from the Handsome Businessman, I made last train out of Ginza--barely. The train station attendants were on hand to push people into the cars so the doors could close. The train was packed until Nihombashi, at which point people streamed out and the ride became much more bearable.

At Higashi-Mukojima station, I watched a twenty-something woman slip and fall on her face as she was coming down the stairs. Flat on her face, she slid down a half flight of concrete steps, probably breaking her nose in the process. Four or five men were behind her on the stairs. They didn't even look down as they stepped around her. Three women stopped. I stopped. One woman bent over and asked "Daijobu desuka?" Are you okay? I had reached out one hand, but touching in public is so verboten that I didn't touch her. No one else did either, not even to help her sit up. She sat up on her own, holding her nose which was bleeding, and nodded, looking down, ashamed. A brown-suited JR official hurried up and we all stepped away. "Daijobu?" he asked.

I moved past her, shocked.

Though four of us stopped, many more people--men and women--just moved around, continuing on their way. That would probably be true in the US as well, though I would like to think that it wouldn't be as true. I would like to think that if someone fell down the stairs, a few people would stop. (In fact, I was just reminded of a woman who fell down the stairs at TV-I one day and about seven or eight people rushed up to make sure she was okay.) But the Japanese are not so inclined to get involved. The men certainly made no effort to rush to her aid, and it was only the paid person, the JR official (they're always men, by the way) who came up to help.

Welcome to Japan.

I taught a class this week on softening complaints. It was a high-level class and I handed out situations, one of which was: Your neighbor plays loud music. I stopped and asked a series of questions that the students answered: Has anyone ever had a neighbor like this? No. What would you do if you did? Would you complain? No. Bang on the wall? No. Call the landlord? Maybe. Call the police? Never. Have you ever called the police? I asked. No, never. Another situation was: You lent someone money and they seem to have forgotten that they owe you. What do you do? Would you ask for the money? No. We might hint, like, we would say in front of the person that we were kind of short of money.

In general, the Japanese don't confront each other and they don't step in the middle of things and they don't draw attention to themselves for any reason if they can at all help it. That sounds extreme, doesn't it? But it's true. Here's another example of that in action:

We were drinking in Kachi-kachi last night, The Handsome Businessman, Masakazu, Kumiko and I. The Handsome Businessman had just returned from China, from a conference. He works for a Canadian company and something made him remark on the fact that Canadian businessmen socialize with their wives. I don't understand it, he said. I explained that it was usual for Americans to do this too, and that when David and I were together, I would have expected to be invited to work-related social events. Would you ever take your wife to a party with your co-workers? I asked. No, he said, a work relationship is completely different from a personal relationship. Besides, he said, it's tough to get a babysitter in Japan. They just don't exist.

I laughed and pointed out that Masakazu often brought his wife out when he came drinking. This is unusual because, honestly, here married couples do not socialize together. Masakazu explained that he knew it was usual, but that he liked to spare his wife the anxiety of having him out at all hours drinking. He doesn't have a choice about drinking for business. Here, a person who doesn't drink with coworkers doesn't move up in the company. Period. But Masakazu has decided that he's willing to take the hit he potentially suffers professionally for bringing his wife along rather than have his marriage take a hit for causing his wife to needlessly suffer anxiety. This is unusual in Japan. Here, the wives just eat it. They just eat their distress and worry and anxiety about having their husbands out at all hours. In fact, perhaps most wives don't even care about this because some women have told me that they would feel more anxious if their husbands didn't go out drinking. (Mostly these are traditional women, women who see their roles within the marriage as being well-defined: The man works. The women stay home, keep house, raise children and control the money. Since the man's work invariably requires him to drink, if he doesn't he must not be holding up his end of the marriage deal. That's when traditional wives worry. They worry when their husband doesn't stay out drinking.)

I asked Kumiko, who is unmarried, if she would expect her husband to take her drinking with his co-workers. "Yes," she said simply. I stage whispered, "Then don't marry a Japanese man--unless Masakazu has a brother!" They laughed. "Good advice," the Handsome Businessman said. But then, when I tried to continue the conversation, the Handsome Businessman refused to say anything.

Later, thinking as to why he just shut down, I thought: Ahh, though he holds the culturally normative point of view, he is--at our table anyway-in the minority. The Japanese are not accustomed to holding their own in such discussions. This is not an "e pluribus unum" kind of place and the Japanese are not a people accustomed to expressing and defending opinions. Instead, they find what seem to an American to be elaborate ways to establish and maintain peace within a group and there are no real ways to express dissent without causing what people fear will be irreparable harm to others. That isn't to say that people don't hold dissenting views, that is to say that people think very, very carefully before expressing those views and so they express them rarely, and only with the utmost hesitation. And it is precisely that hesitation often makes the Japanese seem (to an American at least) to be dishonest or two-faced about things.

In fact, the Japanese themselves recognize this as being the case, but here it doesn't fall under the category of honest and dishonest. No, here it is honne (true feeling, real intention) and tattemae (diplomacy, duty, public feeling).

For example, women give chocolates to men on Valentine's Day. But women don't just give chocolate to the men they like. No, they give chocolate to every man they work with. Someone called this kind of chocolate "duty choco" and I laughed. What do you say when you give "duty choco"? I asked. Someone said, "We say, 'Thank you for taking care of me.'" (In fact, I've heard those words before, when I went to Aki's wedding back in December. At the end, when I met her family, her parents said to me, in Japanese, "Thank you for taking care of our daughter." It's a touching sentiment, however diplomatically issued.)

Notes To Self

More train emails to myself:

bohan

I've seen him around Higashi-Mukojima, and I know his story from Ben (who met him on the train). I've seen him twice at the gym, but this time I smile. The tall Somali man smiles back and walks over to me and introduces himself. His name is Bohan and he's an architect who was educated in Sweden and California. He's lived in Japan for the last five years. (Ben's told me he's married to a Japanese woman and they have two children.) We chat for a bit, then he says, "Well, I'll let you get back to your workout."

octopus on the way to kita-senju

Near Kita-Senju, I spot a playground octopus. The same octopus, a kind of toy for children to climb on and hide out in, catches my eye everytime I go to Kita-Senju.

sitting next to robert

Someone on the train on Friday morning smelled like Robert, who died almost eighteen years ago. I close my eyes against the tears.

what is yellow hat? tsukuba expr.

Today I rode the Tsukuba Express from Kita-Senju to Tsukuba and back. The Tsukuba Express is a relatively new train line. (It opened for business last October) and it runs along the extreme southern edge of a place called the Seigo-Tsukuba Quasi-National Park. Anyway, I didn't have a particular destination in mind when I left Asakusa (where I had gone for coffee and a change of scenery), and coming back to Higashi-Mukojima, I decided to stay on the train to Kita-Senju. At Kita-Senju, I decided to change trains and head to Tsukuba even though the ride there and back cost a cool 2,000 yen. Why did I do this? Just for the sheer pleasure of looking out the window at trees and hills and farmland. About an hour into the ride, I happened to look up at a small town we were passing through and my eye snagged on a big, lighted sign with a cartoonish cowboy hat on it. Yellow Hat the sign said simply.

english is the lang. of the oppressor, but i have no other lang.
and oppression is everywhere.
having no lang is worse