This weekend was the Earth Day festival in a little mountain town called Kamiyama. "Kami" means god or spirit and "yama" is mountain. I arrived on the second day at noon. After a 3 hour drive through winding mountain roads that are as wide as alleyways with hairpin corners and sudden drops on either side, I was happy to make it in one piece.
Kamiyama has a program called "Artist in Residence" where, every year, an artist or two from anywhere in the world can come and live in Kamiyama for 5 weeks and work on their art projects while getting to know the local people. It is a very small and close-knit community and they like to get involved. You can read all about it here: http://www.in-kamiyama.jp/en/art They have an NPO organisation and, as the website says, work to keep their community as environmentally friendly and economically independant as possible. So this festival helped to raise money and awareness for their community on Earth Day.
When I arrived a group of Taiko drummers were performing. This group performs every year at the prefecture's Awa-Odori dance festival and also at other gigs around the place. Their drumming is amazing! But I couldn't help but feel like an outsider. Of course, this feeling is nothing new to me as a foreigner in Japan, but when faced with such a closely knit community like that, the feeling is somewhat accentuated. Whats more, these beautiful people didnt seem to have any of the traits that usually make me feel alienated around Japanese people. Nobody was wearing highheels. There was no shiny, straight and perfectly trimmed hair. Nobody seemed to be having mindless heady gossip about where they were going to eat or what their boyfriends were doing. Everyone was just really relaxed and happy, totally unassuming and completely welcoming. So why then was I having so much trouble relaxing? Maybe I had just gotten so used to my Gaijin status that I couldn't break out of it..
Anyway, in Japan, if you are a member of a sub-group of people, be it the punks, the goths, the Yankees (bleached haired kids) or whatever, you are clearly identifiable by your appearance. These kids follow all the rules for clothing and hairstyles and even mannerisms TO THE BOOK. So these lovely people at the festival were all dressed in the most beautiful tie-dyed and embroidered loosely fitting clothes. When I first arrived in Japan I would scoff at this kind of thing, thinking, "Well you think you're being so unique and rebellious when really you're just wearing a different kind of uniform to the other groups." But since then I've realised that this isn't really a fair judgement to make, because they probably don't think they're being unique or rebellious at all. It's more likely that they are proud and happy to be representing their group with such fidelity. If you draw your identity from your group then you want to be damn clear about which group that is. Hence the immaculate uniforms.
Hey! Back to Kamiyama! I was really happy to be at a festival where there were bands playing outside and people sitting on the grass and delicious vegetarian food and markets selling heaps of handmade treasures! And to my absolute delight an old man with a long grey beard and the biggest smile incessantly danced his heart out! Even to the point of stripping down to a loin cloth! My two favourite music groups of the day were a trio called "Eurasian Rung" and a couple who invited up a whole host of different people as guest musicians. Eurasian Rung had a digeridoo, sitar and taiko drum. They had that lovely fluid and easy feel to them that allowed them to build up the rhythm and bring the audience with them. I couldn't STOP myself dancing. The couple was a lady who played an Erhu (2 stringed vertical violin) and a man on keyboard and dig. This lady was AWESOME. They way she used her voice was creative and playful but aaalways musically sound. She started a call and repeat game with the taiko drummer, making the most complicated and rythmically challenging voice licks she could think of and challenging him to imitate her. He succeeded most of the time. She was absolutely beautiful.
So all in all I'm happy (and relieved) to know that there is a community of people not too far away who are alive in ways that I love and can hopefully be a part of sometime in the near future.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Gambatte?
At Japanese schools, the teachers all have their desks in the same room. So all day I am lesson planning and studying Japanese to the sound of shuffling papers and conversations in a language I don't understand. This was quite hard to get used to, because when I'm trying to come up with new ideas (as I always am for English lessons) I usually need my own space and absolute quiet in which to think clearly. It's also a good setting in which to become completely paranoid that EVERYONE is talking about you. But I have mostly gotten over that by now..
So anyway, the teachers are all in one room, and students are always coming in and out for various reasons. Everytime a student enters the teachers room they call out a loud "Shitsureishimasu!!!" "Sorry to interrupt!" or more accurately, "I'm interrupting!" So of course, some of the boy students use this as an opportunity to be particularly loud and obnoxious. One day, after a thundering "Shitsureishimasu!!" from one of the students at my Technical Highschool, an English teacher commented on how polite this young man was being. 'Polite??' I thought. Surely thats a prime example of how young boys take every opportunity they can to be smart-asses? But she explained that his loud speaking was a way of being respectful towards the teachers.
I then thought about the daily ritual of saying good morning to every teacher you come across, and how I've never managed to really get the technique down for making it feel natural and not painfully awkward. I suppose part of the reason is due to my awesomely conspicious foreign face - the most crazy thing a Japanese person could EVER encounter. But I also think perhaps my shy and guarded way of saying it is also partly to blame.
So I decided to experiment. I made a point of saying good morning or good day to people I passed in a very firm and deliberate way. And I found that I received a more positive response from people and generally felt more acknowledged.
My theory:
Japanese society is based on the concept of "Gambatte" or 'perserverance.' My half-assed greeting style is a symbol of lack of commitment or weakness. In a groupminded setting, this weakness is not something that needs to be supported or sympathised with. When the group is more important than the individual, energy cannot be wasted on trying to scaffold weaker members, and so little attention is paid to people who are performing below the standard set by the group.
Western society:
But maybe this positive reaction to a display of confidence is not peculiar to Japan and maybe I am learning just as much about behavioural communication in my own country.
I welcome any criticism from the reader, as my interpretations are definitely not air-tight.
I have been in Japan for 10 months, and the longer I've been here, the more blurred are the lines between what is unique to Japan and what is found the world over. Mys basis for comparision is a little too far gone! Hopefully this blog will help me to be objective toward my own ideas.
So anyway, the teachers are all in one room, and students are always coming in and out for various reasons. Everytime a student enters the teachers room they call out a loud "Shitsureishimasu!!!" "Sorry to interrupt!" or more accurately, "I'm interrupting!" So of course, some of the boy students use this as an opportunity to be particularly loud and obnoxious. One day, after a thundering "Shitsureishimasu!!" from one of the students at my Technical Highschool, an English teacher commented on how polite this young man was being. 'Polite??' I thought. Surely thats a prime example of how young boys take every opportunity they can to be smart-asses? But she explained that his loud speaking was a way of being respectful towards the teachers.
I then thought about the daily ritual of saying good morning to every teacher you come across, and how I've never managed to really get the technique down for making it feel natural and not painfully awkward. I suppose part of the reason is due to my awesomely conspicious foreign face - the most crazy thing a Japanese person could EVER encounter. But I also think perhaps my shy and guarded way of saying it is also partly to blame.
So I decided to experiment. I made a point of saying good morning or good day to people I passed in a very firm and deliberate way. And I found that I received a more positive response from people and generally felt more acknowledged.
My theory:
Japanese society is based on the concept of "Gambatte" or 'perserverance.' My half-assed greeting style is a symbol of lack of commitment or weakness. In a groupminded setting, this weakness is not something that needs to be supported or sympathised with. When the group is more important than the individual, energy cannot be wasted on trying to scaffold weaker members, and so little attention is paid to people who are performing below the standard set by the group.
Western society:
But maybe this positive reaction to a display of confidence is not peculiar to Japan and maybe I am learning just as much about behavioural communication in my own country.
I welcome any criticism from the reader, as my interpretations are definitely not air-tight.
I have been in Japan for 10 months, and the longer I've been here, the more blurred are the lines between what is unique to Japan and what is found the world over. Mys basis for comparision is a little too far gone! Hopefully this blog will help me to be objective toward my own ideas.
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