Ever since my first experience of Japan during a 5 week home stay in 1997, I have been puzzled by the Japanese obsession with amicable/"happy"/"positive" endings. Despite that first stay being termed a "student exchange", I was not actually allowed to attend my host brother's school because, as the headmaster told us with frankness unusual for a Japanese, "a Foreigner would distract the students". (Note: I capitalise "Foreign" to emphasise the stronger connotations of the term. In Japan, it is not a flexible descriptive term as in the West, but rather a means of rigid classification, a complete definition of one's identity. If a person is not fully Japanese by blood and birthplace (i.e. is A Foreigner), it follows that he/she is unable to speak Japanese, ignorant of Japanese culture and affairs, undisciplined, lazy, uncouth, generally troublesome and rather stupid. I'd better stop there before I get carried away...)
Anyway, because of my "distractive" potential, I was cooped up at home for 5 weeks, with no company between the ages of 10 and 50 except for my two host brothers - chronological ages 18 and 25, mental ages 4 and 7 - whose interests didn't extend beyond the famicom (Nintendo) and eating.
Teppei: (hissing intake of breath) Phhhhhhhth..... Yappari, famicon suki desu ne. (Like everyone else, I like playing computer games)
Nick: Teppei wa Famicon no hoka no shumi ga arimasen ka? (Don't you have any interests apart from playing computer games?)
Teppei: Phhhhhhhth.... Anmari, anmari. (Not really, not really.)
The organisation which was responsible for this exchange, LABO, had about 10 members around my age living nearby, with whom I kept asking to be allowed contact, but this was always ima chotto muzukashii ("a little difficult right now") - to be sure, I don't know who was not keen for me to meet them, maybe they themselves didn't want anything to do with The Foreigner.
Soon the day for my departure neared, and in spite of my minimalist (though not by choice) social integration up to that point, a huge farewell party was planned, with all the people I really would have like to see before then. I was looking forward to at least enjoying an event in my honour (even if it was to celebrate my leaving), but as my host mother discussed the plans, I realised that I would be contributing far more than just my name to the occasion. Some 40 people, many of whom I had met only once before, if ever, attended to enjoy "Australian" cooking by Nick (I tried to make foccacia but owing to limited access to proper ingredients it became ham and cheese toasties on white bread - very exotic), music by Nick (someone brought a keyboard for me to play, and they made me sing Waltzing Matilda too), speeches by Nick (I somehow managed to thank everyone for their kindness in looking after me - irony comes so much easier in a foreign tongue), a one-man show the likes of which Aizuwakamatsu had never seen. Sure, I would be leaving soon, but they weren't going to let me go until they had SQUEEZED ME DRY of every last morsel of Foreign culture. After my speech, one of the youth leaders of around my age got up and talked about how much he regretted not spending more time with me. I was amazed! If he really felt that way, I was still in Japan for a few more days - how about a little less regret, and a little more initiative! I never saw him again.
Strange as they were, these events were to repeat themselves 3 years later in Kobe. My farewell party was planned by KBLC even before I had arrived, and it was truly amazing - some 50+ AIESEC members in attendance, a huge room booked at a youth/community centre complete with ovens and cooking equipment, a detailed plan for the preparation (in 6 separate groups) of a 3-course feast, and this time, I was only responsible for one speech, along with the preparation of dessert. Fantastic! What more could I have hoped for?
How about a Traineeship where I actually had some work to do?
How about a Traineeship in the same city as the LC so that I might have some reasonable level of contact with the AIESECers during those 9 weeks?
How about access to my earnings during the first 5 weeks of my traineeship (it took that long for KBLC to give me my own bank keycard, by which point I was living on Y500 ($5) a day as my cash reserves dried up - it is important to note here that most Japanese ATMs do not accept foreign cards, and in any case, they are only switched on during bank opening hours, i.e. when I was "working")?
How about a reception committee which actually read my expectations, or reception team leaders who had been outside Japan and had some understanding of foreign culture (and maybe spoke some English too!)?
Was an extremely well organised farewell party supposed to make up for all the frustration, isolation, inconvenience and general misery for which these people were at least indirectly responsible?
The night before the party, the reception team told me the plan and said that as well as a speech, it would be nice if I could answer some of the members' questions about Australia. Hmmmm, I thought, this is coming about 9 weeks too late, but if anyone still has any burning issues they want to raise, then that's okay. The reception team then drew out an inch-thick wad of paper - every single LC member had apparently submitted their questions for The Foreigner. They included such simple queries as "When we think of Australia, we just imagine Koalas munching on gum-leafs, but what is your country really like?" and "Please teach us about Australian culture". Did some of these guys really think that after them making zero effort to speak to me for 9 weeks, I would be happy to give them a whole "Foreign Contact" experience condensed into a few minutes? Was that even the intention, or were the questions just another classic token gesture to delude the Foreign Guest that the askers really are interested in his country, in spite of the undeniable superiority, in every respect, of Great Japan.
When I was leaving Pipes R Us - Oe, my boss, made me go around the whole factory grounds (several hectares) to thank every one of some 400 employees of the company. I was stunned when all these people started wishing me well for the future, and asking if I had an interesting time working at Pipes R Us! For the last 9 weeks, these people had looked through me if they passed me in the corridor, left me sitting alone in the dining hall, given me no more attention than some brief (and distinctly hostile) muttering behind my back, but here they where, finally showing interest in me the day that I was leaving!
Why is it so? If the Japanese I encountered had no interest in me, as certainly seemed for most of my time, why did they bother attending farewell parties or wishing me well for the future? If their finally expressed sentiments were sincere, why did they not go to more trouble to demonstrate this, get to know me and support me further BEFORE I was about to leave? Here is my guess.
Certainly, some Japanese are not in the least interested in contact with A Foreigner, but the preservation of face (mine or theirs?) would require them to show some interest in me when pressed, e.g. when I go up to them and thank them for their support. Fair enough. But this doesn't explain the deluge of questions at my KBLC farewell party. At least some of those guys were really interested in what The Foreigner had to say, and the security of a group (not to mention the indirect manner of questioning through the reception team) allowed them to compensate for the contact they had never made with me. "Bikozu, Japanizu sooo SHAI", a Japanese might claim, but surely shyness would affect Australians in a similar situation - the difference is that in most cases, our curiosity would overcome shyness. This doesn't happen for Japanese, because of a crucial value disparity.
Essentially, the Japanese glorify the act of resisting individual desires, maintaining a perpetual tension between giri (obligation) and ninjou (personal affections). A salaryman's ninjou would encourage him to come home before 10pm so that he might actually see his children, but this is unthinkable because giri to his employer requires him to show solidarity for his colleagues by staying in the office, even when he has nothing to do. Similarly, a Japanese AIESECer may genuinely wish to talk with The Foreigner, but his giri to avoid embarrassing his Local Committee, university, and ultimately Great Japan by exposing his poor English prevents him from doing so (it being a foregone conclusion that A Foreigner does not speak Japanese). Neither of these people would be happy about their situation, and this would invariably be expressed during nominication (alcohol-enhanced communication) with other Japanese.
A Western reaction to someone admitting unhappiness at being unable to spend time with their children due to long work hours would surely be "If it bothers you, find a different job!" - we might feel some mild contempt for someone who lets work or other obligations get in the way of what they really want to do. A Japanese, though, would admire this person's stoicism, respect their ability to withold the temptation to spend time with their children and to sacrifice their own needs to the greater cause of group solidarity.
Similarly, while anyone telling their fellow AIESECers in Australia "Ah, I really want to talk to that Trainee from Turkey/India/Taiwan/Germany, but I can't speak Turkish/Hindi/Mandarin/German well" would simply be laughed at - what would the Trainee be doing here if they couldn't speak some English, and why should a language barrier stop you anyway? - an equivalent lament in Japan would be met with considerable support, "Hmmmmm, I understand, it's so difficult, I feel the same way. Lets think about what we can do". The two (or more) troubled souls would then "think", and "think", and "think"... until The Foreigner is about to leave, when giri comes to the fore: "Ah, we MUST organise a great farewell party so that he has good impressions (inshou) of Japan." (Note that this last is acknowledged by all, not just those who are actually interested in talking to The Foreigner)
Next comes "Ah, we MUST ask many questions to show that we are interested in him", "Ah, we MUST ask his impressions of Japan, and pretend to agree with any criticism, and promise to work harder to make things better", and "Ah, we MUST ask him to prepare Foreign food, and pretend to like it, even though it is disgusting because it is Foreign".
Amongst this deluge of attention, the few genuinely interested parties are able to ask their own questions, try some exotic "notto Japanizu" food and listen to a (very rare) outside perspective on Japan. The system is perfect - no loss of face, no reneging on giri, a warm-fuzzy feeling for the Japanese in having provided such good inshou - but for One Very Confused Foreigner.
But this was never really about him anyway...