Chapter 56: Land of the Rising Sun, Part II

June 17, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

“Steve? Lunch will be served in a few minutes! You can change into other clothes, if you wish.”

“Thank you, Hiroshi-san. What would be the norm?”

“For lunch, it’s very casual. For dinner, I have some clothing for you.”

“My other clothing is blue jeans, slacks, or what I guess you’d call a track suit. I also have other gi, black and red, but both have patches on the shoulders and the dojo symbol on the back.”

“That would be acceptable, if you want to change out of the white. But make sure you put on the white before you come to the instructional classes.”

I got up from the bench and went into my cottage to change into my comfortable red gi, then followed him into the house. We changed shoes at the door, and he led me to a room with a large, low table where Sensei Hiro, Sensei Robert, and two male students were sitting. I wasn’t surprised, based on what was said earlier, that neither Sensei Hiro’s wife nor Sakurako were at the table. I bowed, and took the seat indicated. The conversation that had been going restarted and Hiroshi translated. It was, unsurprisingly, a discussion about me and what I was doing there.

A few minutes later, Sakurako and an older woman, who I assumed was Sensei Hiro’s wife, came into the room carrying trays with our lunches. I was careful to watch the others, as both Mitsuko and Ailea had warned me that not only were there differences between how Americans and Japanese ate Japanese food, but there were regional variations as to what was proper. I simply copied what I saw and when nobody reprimanded or corrected me, assumed I’d followed it at least well enough.

One thing I was absolutely sure of, and that was with only Sensei Robert, Hiroshi, and Sakurako to speak to, I was going to spend a lot of time being quiet. I’d resolved to only speak when spoken to directly, and my complete inability to communicate would ensure that I was able to keep that resolution. Sensei Jim’s instructions on the proportion for using my eyes, ears, and mouth suddenly seemed downright libertine!

After lunch, during which the only words I’d uttered were ‘thank you’ in Japanese to Sakurako and her grandmother, Hiroshi led me outside and showed me the tool shed, and left so I could get to work. The first thing I did was go back to my cottage and change into sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt. It was warm enough, around 25°C, to wear shorts and a regular t-shirt, but I had the distinct impression those wouldn’t be appropriate. I put on my Pittsburgh Penguins Stanley Cup Championship cap, and then went back outside.

I noticed weeds along the wall of the compound, so I began there. Later, as I was using a broom to sweep the stone walk, I thought back to my days in Milford, working at Andreas’ deli. I’d once joked to myself about my relationship with the broom and mop, and remembered that I’d used that time to think. Suddenly, I saw the wisdom in doing manual labor which occupied the body but kept the mind free. I wasn’t wearing my watch, so I had no idea of the time, and I wasn’t sure enough of the sun to know for sure.

“Steve-san?” I heard Hiroshi say some time later. “It’s time to wash up and dress for dinner.”

I stood up from the flowerbed I was weeding, and followed him back to my cottage. I stripped off my clothes and used the shower to wash up. I wrapped a towel around me and walked out of the small bathroom.

“These are formal clothes. I have mine as well, so I’ll show you how to put them on. If you need help again tomorrow, just let me know. It can be a bit complicated.”

It took about fifteen minutes to put on my black and gray kimono, which included a «nagajuban», a soft undergarment, a «fundoshi», which served as briefs, a «hakama», a kind of pleated skirt tied with an «obi», and a «haori» jacket. There was no mirror available, but if I had to guess I looked like the stylized Samurai portrayed in the West, minus the sword. Once Hiroshi was satisfied, we left the cottage to head for the house.

“May I ask what may seem to be a rude question?”

“Yes, of course. Those are best left to ask me or Robert-san. What’s your question?”

“At lunch, the women served the men, and didn’t eat with them. Is that the norm?”

“For my grandfather, yes. He holds to very traditional ways, as I’ve told you. In his mind, young women submit to their fathers, married women to their husbands, and elderly, widowed women to their sons. He expects them to be modest, courteous, compliant, and self-reliant.”

“If so, how is your sister here if she should submit to her father?”

“She prefers the traditional ways, and my father and mother do not. When I chose to come here, she asked permission from Grandfather, and he granted it. It’s a bit out of the ordinary, but in his mind, preserving our traditional way of life was more important than strict adherence to that rule of submission I just explained.”

“So she goes to school, and otherwise, more or less acts like a servant?”

He stopped walking and turned to face me, “It’s not quite so drastic as you imply. She has fairly extensive freedom. If she wishes to date, she may. She has friends she has chosen she spends time with. If she wishes to go to university, he won’t stand in her way. I don’t think she will, because she has traditional values of home and family. And she will select her own husband, most likely someone quite traditional. Perhaps one of Grandfather’s students, all of whom hold to the traditional views.”

“I guess my modern, Western sensibilities recoil at that entire concept.”

“You’ve never known a woman who wished, truly wished, to serve and please you?”

Anala! Once again, life had given me a lesson to prepare me for something later.

“Actually, yes, I have. A young Indian woman who taught me Eastern wisdom and introduced me to Buddhism and Hinduism.”

“And was she happy with that role?”

“Very much so. In fact, she was unhappy when I pressed her to act more in line with my thinking.”

“My sister chose to come here. Remember that. She could have stayed in Kobe and been a modern girl, more Western than Japanese, if that was what she wanted. And she’s free to go back to Kobe at any time. She wants to be here. She wants to fulfill the traditional role of a Japanese woman.”

“Very interesting. And men’s roles?”

“As provider, protector, and guide. Some would use the term ‘master’, but you won’t find my grandfather acting that way except in his dojo. He is a kind, considerate man who would never demand something from his wife or granddaughter which was demeaning or degrading. He loves them, and he is a very sweet man. You’ll see tonight, after dinner.”

“«Agape»,” I said.

“I’m sorry, what is that word?”

“It’s Greek. It’s what you described - loving someone such that even if you are in a position of superiority or control, you would never do anything to hurt them.”

“Exactly. What my grandfather rejects, more than anything, is the lack of respect for tradition, for elders, and for women he sees in modern Japan. Japan changes very slowly, but it does change. Some change is good - technology, industry, and trade. My grandfather is no isolationist, and he doesn’t reject technology, he just believes it distracts from the important things in life.”

“My life is ALL about technology,” I said.

“And do you find it distracting?”

I shook my head, “No. I find it invigorating.”

“A month without technology should be an interesting challenge for you. May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Your wife and children, do they submit to you?”

That confirmed something that I hadn’t asked, but it appeared my unique family situation hadn’t been communicated, and given how conservative Sensei Hiro was, that didn’t surprise me.

“If you mean do I make the final decisions, yes. But not without communication and love. And there are many things they could decide for themselves. With my kids, I’ll do my best to advise, rather than control.”

“What you described is not all that different from our views. The difference is neither I, nor my sister, nor my grandmother, would go against my grandfather’s wishes. But he’s no ogre, so it’s not a burden.”

“There’s a saying in the Christian Bible which commands wives to obey their husbands, and husbands to love their wives and give themselves up for her. The man has the harder job.”

“If you take your responsibility seriously, it is. It sounds as if you understand.”

I nodded, “I think so. You know, in our talk yesterday, you never mentioned a girlfriend.”

“I have a Japanese girlfriend in Hawaii. And I have to say, I’m happy we are there!”

“Why?”

“Birth control pills are illegal in Japan. And I do not like sheaths.”

“Hang on! Oral contraceptives are ILLEGAL here? Why?”

“Japan is a very conservative country to start with. The Ministry said about two years ago, when they were considering the legalization of birth control pills, that they felt allowing them would reduce usage of sheaths, and thus allow the spread of HIV. According to my professor, having to use a sheath has indeed kept the incidence of social diseases very low. Well, except around US military bases.”

I chuckled, “My friends in the Navy said the same thing.”

“Come, we’re going to be late. We can speak further tomorrow.”

We went into the house, and Hiroshi led me to the large room with the low table where we had our lunch. I sat in the same spot, but now there were a dozen young men in the room. I guessed that many of them had been in school at lunchtime, and had come to eat dinner with their master. That was confirmed when Sensei Robert introduced all of them. I was going to have a heck of a time remembering names, especially given only two of the students spoke any English at all, and only haltingly.

Dinner was served a few minutes later, with Sakurako, her grandmother, whose name I had learned was Emiko, and two other young women who looked to be about eighteen or nineteen served our meals. All were dressed in kimono.

“They are the wives of Masaaki and Mitsuo,” he said, pointing to the men. “Their names are Haruko and Keiko.”

That explained why all three of the older women were wearing the type of kimono that Ailea had explained was for married women. Sakurako’s kimono was like the simple one which Ailea had before she received her «furisode» from HER grandfather. As I thought about it, I began to understand both Ailea and Mitsuko better. Both were trapped between two cultures, and trying to find their way forward. And that explained, at least in my mind, why Sakurako and Hiroshi had, in effect, fled from Kobe to Oguni. They didn’t want the constant struggle of straddling both worlds. It also explained why Hiroshi could study in Hawaii - he lived in a traditional Japanese community and that provided refuge.

I smiled, realizing that in less than twenty-four hours, I’d learned quite a bit, and yet, had only scratched the surface. We ate and I listened to either Hiroshi or Sensei Robert translate, and speaking only when asked a direct question. The other students were speaking their minds on topics and debating philosophy with Sensei Hiro, but I didn’t feel comfortable adding my own thoughts. It was time to listen, and learn.

I understood, at that moment, why my trip needed to be longer, and wondered if it would be possible to extend it. I was doing no programming, save on the website, and my dad could cover the executive duties longer, if necessary. It was something to think about, and something to discuss with Sensei Hiro in a few weeks. The major downside would be missing my family, knowing they would miss me as well, and a certain daughter would be starved for ‘Daddy cuddles’. In the end, I had to put the needs of my children, wives, and Michelle before my own needs.

But that raised a very interesting question. If I improved myself by being here longer, that might well meet their needs better than an extra few weeks or even months of my time. Birgit would certainly disagree vehemently now, but as an adult, she might look back and see how much her daddy had changed for the better. But this was all a question for later in my stay and only after an evaluation by Sensei Hiro.

When the meal was finished, we were served warm «nihonshu», and offered other drinks. I suppressed a laugh when I heard two words that were clear as could be from one of the young men - “Jack Daniel’s”.

“I see that smirk you’re trying to hide,” Sensei Robert said with a small grin. “It’s a very popular drink amongst businessmen in the big cities, too. I assume you like whisky?”

“I’m a bourbon man, though Irish Whisky will do in a pinch.”

He spoke rapidly to Emiko who nodded. She and the other women left and returned a moment later. Sakurako set two shot glasses before me.

“Nikka Twelve-Year-Old and Yamazaki Eighteen-Year-Old,” Sensei Robert said. “The first is blended, the second single malt. They’ll be more like scotch than bourbon.”

I tasted the ‘Nikka’ first, given the similarity to my company’s name, and found it to be malty, but have a nicely balanced flavor. It did, indeed, remind me of Scotch, but not starkly. The ‘Yamazaki’, on the other hand, could have passed for a top-shelf Scotch in any bar I’d ever been in. It had a distinctive flavor that said it had at some point been in a sherry cask, and had a ‘finish’ that was like ginger or cinnamon.

“Very good,” I said. “I had no idea Japan made whisky!”

There was a brief conversation between him and Sensei Hiro.

“How was your first day?”

“Other than my body clock being a complete mess, everything is fine. I actually enjoyed the quiet time working in the garden.”

He translated, then relayed the response.

“Nothing happens without reason.”

I nodded, “I understand.”

“Tomorrow after lunch, I’ll take you to the temple of Yama-dera. We’ll take a train to Yamagata City, then another train to the temple. There is a monk there who speaks English.”

“Thank you.”

For the next two hours, we drank and they talked, while I listened to translations, and occasionally answered questions. They didn’t drink like my Russian friends, but nobody I knew drank like my Russian friends! It had grown dark about an hour after we’d come in for dinner, and I estimated it was around 9:30pm when Hiroshi indicated I should follow him. I bowed to everyone and we left the room and walked back to the cottage.

“Sunrise is about 4:15am,” he said. “We’ll wake you around then. Is six hours sleep sufficient for you?”

“Usually, yes.”

“We can let you sleep an extra hour, and you’ll still have time for your run and exercises before breakfast.”

“Your grandfather was clear that I should rise with the sun,” I said.

“Yes, but he will make allowances until your body clock adjusts.”

“Just wake me at the right time, please,” I requested.

He left me at the door, and I went inside to find the futon had been returned to the floor, the duvet folded, and the pillows fluffed. A pitcher of water was on the table, along with a drinking glass. I removed my kimono and folded each item and placed them on a shelf in one of the closets, then put on my pajamas. I went into the bathroom, used the toilet, brushed my teeth, turned off the electric light, and got into bed. Once again, I was asleep almost instantly.

June 18, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

I heard my name spoken softly, which roused me from sleep. I yawned and stretched and opened my eyes to see Sakurako standing near the door, though with the light from the outside, I could only make out her form.

“«おはようございます» («Ohayō gozaimas»),” she said.

“«Ohayō gozaimas»,” I replied.

“How long will your run and practice take?”

“If you bring breakfast at 6:15am, I’ll have time to bathe as well. If I remember, you need to leave for school sometime after 7:00am?”

“Yes.”