Last Month

(The original title of this post was February in Review, but as usual I've been a bit slow, hence the new title)

…I took part in a feed-the-homeless project, resumed taking Japanese lessons, and discovered haiku.

The homeless project was organised by my work colleague and good friend, Faisal. He’s a Pakistani-born Briton; he’s a Muslim; he’s a vegetarian, and he doesn’t drink or smoke. Above all, he’s an extraordinary individual. It was while he was fasting last year during Ramadan that he decided he wanted to do something to help those people who, unlike him, were not guaranteed a meal after sunset: the homeless.

The homeless of Japan, much like their homed compatriots, are a unique bunch, and quite enigmatic, too. There have been many things said about them. For instance, not only are they homeless by choice, or as a result of some bad thing that they did, but, according to some, they are positively rich. I’ve even heard it said that they are entitled to a monthly payment from the government, though no one has been able to tell me how much it is, and I’m not sure how one would collect such a payment if one does not have a mailing address or bank account. Anyway, whether they are rich or not, there by choice or not, I don’t know; but I must admit I’ve never been asked for spare change or food, and I’ve never seen anyone else being asked (though this may just be a reflection of the pride in the Japanese character). Also, a lot of them seem to be a bit better dressed than the homeless of other countries—no one seems to be getting around in tatters, in fact many of them you would not suspect of being homeless until you saw them setting up their little cardboard box shelters. In summer, when they sit around in their little groups talking and laughing and drinking their little cups of sake and shou chu, it does look like they’re having a ball, and I can see why the average overworked Japanese citizen might resent them for this. Having said that, I can’t imagine anyone choosing to be homeless during the winter.

So on the fourth of last month, when Faisal and I and a few other gaijin walked the streets of Tenjin handing out bentos (boxed lunches) and boxes of cookies, we got, as you might expect, quite a few bemused looks. We were crazy gaijin—outsiders—who were helping the lazy work-avoiding homeless. I’d like to tell you more about this night as it was quite funny, but I know it’ll take me a long time to write it, and there are plenty of other stories I want to share with you.

Team Gaijin! Can you guess which one is me? (Sorry for the poor pic quality)

Last month I also resumed my formal study of Japanese and began taking classes again. I had taken lessons for the first ten months I was here, but when I took a couple of weeks off work to go back home to visit friends and family I had to work overtime both before leaving and when I returned, and so I wasn’t able to take lessons for about two months and never got back into it. What re-sparked my motivation to start taking lessons again were a few recent social outings where I felt I was being made fun of because my Japanese is so poor. I guess you could say I’ve been shamed into action.

Someone who is very competent with the Japanese language is a man by the name of Donald Keene. He translated one of the classic works of Japanese haiku: The Narrow Road to Oku by Matsuo Bashou. Written in 1689, it is a book, consisting of a narrative interspersed with haiku, in which Bashou writes about a long journey that he undertook. It’s great stuff, and I’d like to leave you with a little sample:

Sprigs of verbana
Thrust in my cap—such will be
My fancy attire.

Have a good one!
eyechan

Correction: the above haiku was not written by Bashou but by his travelling companion, Sora.