Chapter 12

Matt woke with a start and then he smiled. The last thing he could remember from last night was his chinpo sliding into the deep recesses of the mouth of his visitor. Just before she left she tenderly kissed his kintama and disappeared. The experience had been more spiritual than sexual. It was like his mother tucking him in for the night.

“God, he was beginning to think in Japanese as well as speak it. Would he start to reason in Japanese,” he wondered? Just then he heard Ms. Shimata come in with his morning meal. He surprised himself when he realized that he looked forward to the sticky rice and some strange complement to be served in the same bowl. “Would it be rice and squid, rice and scrambled eggs, rice and peas, or his favorite rice and fish heads,” he asked himself as he hurriedly got dressed because if he didn’t come to eat, Ms. Shimata would come in to get him no matter his state of undress. He had been caught more than once with his chinpo open to view by the lady serving his meal that morning. They would stare and Matt could hear a whispered, “Much taka chinpo.”

“Good morning Ms. Shimata.”

“Good morning Reverend Billingsley sama,” she said bowing and backing away from the table. When she had backed to the door Ms. Shimata said, “Sayonara, Reverend sama.

“Sayonara, Ms. Shimata.”

After he had finished off his fish head and rice, Matt bathed, shaved and dressed for a morning of visiting those of his flock that were ill and unable to get out. Mostly they had been in the hospital and were home recovering from whatever had put them in the hospital After his visitation with the shut-ins, Matt’s schedule called for lunch at Hanna’s.

Leaving the home of Mrs. Hushima, his last shut -n visit for the day, Matt recognized Keiko, one of the church choir members, carrying a large bag of rice on her back. “Keiko, let me help you,” he said. She immediately placed this broken Japanese as that of Reverend Billingsley.

“Eeee, Reverend Billingsley sama. So nice to see you. Rice okay, I’m used to it,” she said as she hefted it higher on her back, “I live right over there,” she said indicating a house three buildings down.

“Well, let me help for this short distance,” he said lifting her burden as if it were a hand-full of rice instead of a gunny sack full.

When she reached the door Keiko said, “Domo arigato gozaimos, Reverend sama.” As she opened the door a toddler waddled out uncertainly and grabbed Keiko around the legs. “Matsuki, watch it or you will cause mama to fall.”

“You’re very welcome Keiko. Who is this big boy?”

“This is Matsuki. Matsuki meet your, er, ah, meet the Reverend Billingsley sama.”

“He’s not talking yet but he will make you think he is with all his jabbering.”

“It was good running into you Keiko. I’d love to visit but I can see you have your hands full. As they say, I’ll see you in church.”

“Sayonara, Reverend sama.”

“Sayonara, Keiko.

Matt, you have been referred as sama ever since you arrived, why the sudden interest?”

“I guess it’s because I made my rounds visiting the sick and recovering and heard sama every other word it seems. However, they don’t use it when addressing one another.

“There are several honorifics in Japan that you hear every day. The most common are san, kun and sama. San is used between equals, kun when one of superior standing is speaking to one of less standing, and sama is used when one is speaking to one who is highly revered or is of superior standing. You, as a minister, especially with your congregants, are of high standing by virtue of being the top dog in your church.”

“Top dog, huh? Is that what I am? Or am I just a dog like everyone else?”

“Stop the humble act Matt. You know you are a person of stature.”

“To change the subject from my obvious eminence. I ran into Keiko when I was leaving the home of my final visit. She has a little boy. He’s not old enough to talk but he is walking just fine. He was awfully fair for a Japanese. His coloring was more like a person with a light tan than the yellow brown mixture you usually see. I didn’t even know she was married.”

“I don’t think she is, Matt. In Japan an unmarried woman with a child is not looked down on nor is the child. They are treated like any other woman and any other child. As to the coloring you have to remember that a large number of White Russians and Jews have mixed their blood for generations, with that of Japanese, since their arrival. The one thing we have learned over millennia is that neither color, religion nor national origin represent a barrier when it comes to sex, with the Nazi being the glaring exception.”