I met a retired English teacher from Osaka working as a platform attendant. I met him on the Keikyu line at 泉岳寺 on 31 August Thursday. One aspect of him that impressed me was his willingness to tell me he wanted to practice English. Often, when in Japan, I persist in speaking Japanese until the Japanese speaks Japanese to me. It’s your country. US & them bombed the b-jesus out of it, and now you got the A Jesus. The least you can do is speak your own language.
Not in this instance.
I just left Japan. In the departure process, I surrendered my residency card. The 入国管理局 asked me when I intended to return. The answer would determine whether the official punched a hole in my card, and my heart.
I use wheelchairs when necessary, and airports are one of the more necessary places. An attendant pushes travellers requiring wheelchairs. The attendants I receive are significantly related to my history, recent or otherwise. I enjoy learning why they have chosen the person they send. On this occassion, He clearly explained to me what he wanted. I loved that. I can work with that. What I can’t work with is Japanese that hem and haw about whether to stand up for themselves.
He asked me where I lived, which often elicits a long, rambling explanation of why I’m homeless. Being that I am on a Buddhist pilgrimage, religion often factors in my explanations. After I explained that I am 虎さん, and I attended the 100th anniversary of Zenshu Temple in June, he asked me if I was Christian. I replied yes, I had been Baptised. He asked me if I was Buddha. I replied ‘No, you’re Buddha.’ and affectionately punched him in the right side of his chest, just about where my second heart was grown to grow clone tissue.
