(The following is based on actual experiences and events.)
RE: What to Do If You Encounter a Black Foreigner at Night (safety tactics for poor, defenseless, sexually irresistible Japanese women In distress)
The following safety tips were compiled for you--a poor, defenseless, Japanese woman, a probable victim, in the unfortunate event you should be found trekking the city streets during the evening hours, and encounter any dark-complexioned male subject of considerable height and build, henceforth referred to as "Black Foreigner."
It should be noted that the Black Foreigner has flown, sailed, and/or swam thousands of miles from his native country with the sole intention of victimizing you: a poor, meek, defenseless Japanese lady. You are undoubtedly sexually irresistible to every Black Foreigner. When on the streets at night, it would be foolhardy to assume that the Black Foreigner is up to any honest activity; in fact, he is constantly plotting ways to victimize you, the Japanese woman. The Black Foreigner is extremely dangerous, especially if he is wearing black articles of clothing, not limited to hats, gloves, shoes, or jackets, which undoubtedly increase his level of dangerous Blackness.
Please do not assume the Black Foreigner walking the streets in the evening hours, is returning home from work or running an errand, like yourself. Do not assume that bookbags, briefcases, nor plastic bags with shop logos have any work-related articles nor food in them. They most likely conceal the remains of his previous Japanese female victim. Therefore, exercise great caution when employing one or several of the following survival tactics:
1. Run! Even though there may be no train or bus station in sight, pretend to be rushing to catch a train or bus, as you sprint past and away from Black Foreigner. While escaping, please beware collisions with other Japanese pedestrians and bikers who are not yet aware of impending threat of Black Foreigner. Do not look back at Black Foreigner. (Note: Studies show that, comparatively, Japanese women are proficient at outrunning Black Foreigners, who are standing still or walking. Moreover, a sprinting Japanese female victim versus a Black Foreigner who's standing still or walking, will escape roughly *99.9% of the time, even in high-heeled shoes, thus making running a virtually failsafe survival tactic.) *(This statistic inverts in case the Black Foreigner is running also.)
2. Ninja Invisibility Technique. Hold your breath while standing still. According to Japanese legend, this ancient technique was employed by ninja rebels during the feudal eras, rendering themselves invisible to the naked eye, allowing them to evade pursuers undetected. To enhance invisibility, please avoid eye contact with Black Foreigner.
3. Cross the street. If close to an intersection, proceed to cross to the opposite side of the street immediately. If Black Foreigner approaches while traffic light is red, use Ninja Invisibility Technique.
4. Fake a phone call. Pretend to call someone/ actually call someone on your cell phone. Speak loudly. Doing this creates the illusion of a phone conversation with an "audible witness" to the potential victimization that is about to transpire, although audible witness can do nothing to assist you in event of actual victimization.
5. Invisible Sneak. If unable to retreat in the opposite direction, try to sneak past Black Foreigner briskly, while employing the Ninja Invisibility Technique, while looking at the ground. Because the probable victim is moving, this tactic will only render one partially invisible, although looking downwards away from Black Foreigner strengthens the invisibility factor. Beware wandering trees, lampposts, street signs, etc.
6. Keep a personal bodyguard. Activate Pokemon character attached to your cell phone. A solid shock from Pikachu can stun your probable assailant long enough for you to make your escape.
7. Create distance. Also, if probable victim is unable to retreat in the opposite direction of travel, maintain your direction while veering your path of travel away from oncoming Black Foreigner at the widest possible arc. Doing this will create distance and a "safety zone" between yourself and your probable assailant. The establishment of one's personal safety zone is critical in Japan's congested urban settings, even if safety zone requires probable victim to dash into the street, near moving traffic, (CAUTION: Dashing into streets of moving traffic increases the risk of being struck by oncoming vehicles; however, presence of oncoming Black Foreigner may pose greater risk of stress anxiety due to worry, panic, and xenophobia.)
8. Follow your instincts. Surprisingly, your most primal instinct may compel you to ask Black Foreigner out to dinner, perhaps even date, then marry him. Some consider this a strategy of reverse psychology to disarm the Black Foreigner's dangerous Blackness, while others disagree. However, this tactic poses great risk of injury from probable victim's parents, particularly Papa.
(These safety tips are sponsored by the Kokugaijin Civil Safety & Crime Prevention Committee (Co-sponsored by Playboy brand loose socks, Louis Vuitton brand mobile phone decals, and Chapstick brand green-tea flavored lip gloss))
Dec 21, 2006
Feb 2, 2006
JAPAN'S JIGGABOO
I've shared a few anecdotes with you regarding race and the Japanese society's take on Black people. I think I may have mentioned to some of you before about the depiction of Black tv personalities in Japan.
There's an American ex-NFL washout named Bob Sapp who came to Japan around the same time I did and became an overnight celebrity by flexing his Hulky 350+ lb. frame, screaming like an animal and making scary faces on Japanese variety programs. Additionally, Bob Sapp couldn't speak Japanese, and thus was relegated mainly to being a living caricature. He adopted the alias 'The Beast,' upon which he entered the ranks of K-1, Japan's mixed-martial arts fighting league, while simultaneously doing a multitude of endorsements, one of which was for a Morinaga brand banana ice cream sandwich with a limited edition wrapper with an image of him shirtless eating a banana. I was so appalled when I saw the ice cream package in the local grocery store, that I bought it just to take back to Chicago to show my folks. Bob Sapp has since passed the peak of his success and though still well-known, is a mildly popular celebrity. But since that time, a new, more disturbing Black caricature has emerged. His name is Bobby Ologun.
In short, Bobby Ologun is a Nigerian who speaks Japanese fluently. I did some background research on him and read that he initially came to Japan to work for his father's import/export trading business. He first achieved tv notoriety by playing a backup stooge to a famous white American tv celeb named Thane Camus (whom I actually met in person last year). Bobby's silly antics and infantile babbling would often prompt scolding and sometimes slaps in the head from Thane. Since 2004, however, Bobby Ologun has taken on a level of celebrity status all his own.
Bobby perfectly fits the commonly accepted Japanese stereotype of a Black male: tall, bald, dark-skinned, and with a large build. Bobby is renown for his foolish antics. He speaks broken Japanese in a slow baritone drone, almost as one who suffers from retardation might, often jumbling and mispronouncing words to the befuddlement/amusement of his hosts. He has been seen making ape-like faces and even bulging the whites of his eyes like the American blackface and jigaboo images of old. Apparently, and to the dismay of many Black foreigners in Japan, Bobby is etching out a living with his buffoonery and playing the centerpiece to the gamut of Japan's national variety and comedy tv shows. And like Bob Sapp, Bobby has also become a prizefighter in the K-1 league.
Below is a link to a very recent tv clip that's currently a hot topic on some expat message boards of a popular variety show featuring Bobby Ologun and Japan's most beloved pop singer, Ayumi Hamasaki.
Bobby Ologun meets Ayumi Hamasaki
The clip is about 12 minutes long. Here, Bobby doesn't display any of the particular "gorilla behavior" he's become known for, though he does a good job playing the fool. Take note of his vocal tone and manner of speech; also, read the English subtitles carefully. He persistently feigns ignorance and intentionally fumbles his Japanese, evoking ridicule from the girl singer and the program hosts. This may be an obvious act to some, however, consider that Bobby is only one of maybe 2-3 Black men found ANYWHERE on Japanese national tv programs, so just ponder the impact this kind of image has on broad Japanese perceptions of Black Africans/Black men in general. Most people have never been exposed to non-Japanese people of any descent, so you can imagine millions of viewers taking their foreign cultural cues from this wayward African. You'd be hard pressed to find a Japanese person with a tv who doesn't know who Bobby Ologun is. To re-emphasize this point, I've even had some of my more mischievous boy students call me "Bobby" in jest--something I didn't take too kindly to. In fact, other Black male teachers I know (of various nationalites) have also experienced being called "Bobby" by some of their respective students at their respective schools. Obviously, I look nothing like this guy, other than being brown-skinned. This occurred merely because kids automatically associated the only Black male person they know in real-life to the one Black male image they see on tv at home--Bobby Ologun. I find this frustrating.
With that being said, I'm grateful I have the present opportunity as an African-American man to make a positive impression on a generation of Japanese kids through teaching English, even if the ones under my influence number in the hundreds as opposed to Bobby's hundreds of thousands. Especially this school year, I feel like I've earned most of my students' respect as a teacher and perhaps their admiration as well. In that regard, I believe I've also earned the respect of most of the teachers I work with, having had made a predominantly positive impression. Working in Japanese public schools has taught me a lot about the power of image, particularly within this society. Knowing what I know now, I could never go out like Bobby.
There's an American ex-NFL washout named Bob Sapp who came to Japan around the same time I did and became an overnight celebrity by flexing his Hulky 350+ lb. frame, screaming like an animal and making scary faces on Japanese variety programs. Additionally, Bob Sapp couldn't speak Japanese, and thus was relegated mainly to being a living caricature. He adopted the alias 'The Beast,' upon which he entered the ranks of K-1, Japan's mixed-martial arts fighting league, while simultaneously doing a multitude of endorsements, one of which was for a Morinaga brand banana ice cream sandwich with a limited edition wrapper with an image of him shirtless eating a banana. I was so appalled when I saw the ice cream package in the local grocery store, that I bought it just to take back to Chicago to show my folks. Bob Sapp has since passed the peak of his success and though still well-known, is a mildly popular celebrity. But since that time, a new, more disturbing Black caricature has emerged. His name is Bobby Ologun.
In short, Bobby Ologun is a Nigerian who speaks Japanese fluently. I did some background research on him and read that he initially came to Japan to work for his father's import/export trading business. He first achieved tv notoriety by playing a backup stooge to a famous white American tv celeb named Thane Camus (whom I actually met in person last year). Bobby's silly antics and infantile babbling would often prompt scolding and sometimes slaps in the head from Thane. Since 2004, however, Bobby Ologun has taken on a level of celebrity status all his own.
Bobby perfectly fits the commonly accepted Japanese stereotype of a Black male: tall, bald, dark-skinned, and with a large build. Bobby is renown for his foolish antics. He speaks broken Japanese in a slow baritone drone, almost as one who suffers from retardation might, often jumbling and mispronouncing words to the befuddlement/amusement of his hosts. He has been seen making ape-like faces and even bulging the whites of his eyes like the American blackface and jigaboo images of old. Apparently, and to the dismay of many Black foreigners in Japan, Bobby is etching out a living with his buffoonery and playing the centerpiece to the gamut of Japan's national variety and comedy tv shows. And like Bob Sapp, Bobby has also become a prizefighter in the K-1 league.
Below is a link to a very recent tv clip that's currently a hot topic on some expat message boards of a popular variety show featuring Bobby Ologun and Japan's most beloved pop singer, Ayumi Hamasaki.
Bobby Ologun meets Ayumi Hamasaki
The clip is about 12 minutes long. Here, Bobby doesn't display any of the particular "gorilla behavior" he's become known for, though he does a good job playing the fool. Take note of his vocal tone and manner of speech; also, read the English subtitles carefully. He persistently feigns ignorance and intentionally fumbles his Japanese, evoking ridicule from the girl singer and the program hosts. This may be an obvious act to some, however, consider that Bobby is only one of maybe 2-3 Black men found ANYWHERE on Japanese national tv programs, so just ponder the impact this kind of image has on broad Japanese perceptions of Black Africans/Black men in general. Most people have never been exposed to non-Japanese people of any descent, so you can imagine millions of viewers taking their foreign cultural cues from this wayward African. You'd be hard pressed to find a Japanese person with a tv who doesn't know who Bobby Ologun is. To re-emphasize this point, I've even had some of my more mischievous boy students call me "Bobby" in jest--something I didn't take too kindly to. In fact, other Black male teachers I know (of various nationalites) have also experienced being called "Bobby" by some of their respective students at their respective schools. Obviously, I look nothing like this guy, other than being brown-skinned. This occurred merely because kids automatically associated the only Black male person they know in real-life to the one Black male image they see on tv at home--Bobby Ologun. I find this frustrating.
With that being said, I'm grateful I have the present opportunity as an African-American man to make a positive impression on a generation of Japanese kids through teaching English, even if the ones under my influence number in the hundreds as opposed to Bobby's hundreds of thousands. Especially this school year, I feel like I've earned most of my students' respect as a teacher and perhaps their admiration as well. In that regard, I believe I've also earned the respect of most of the teachers I work with, having had made a predominantly positive impression. Working in Japanese public schools has taught me a lot about the power of image, particularly within this society. Knowing what I know now, I could never go out like Bobby.
Jan 31, 2006
"SEPTEMBER"
Today at lunch, a 5th grade boy, Noguchi, asked me if I knew of Earth, Wind, and Fire. I was like "Yeah! How do you know about Earth, Wind, and Fire?" I was caught totally off-guard. I mean I've taught kids who barely knew who Michael Jordan was, and here I am eating my rice with fish sprinkles, with 11 year olds quizzing me on their favorite anime, when out of the clear blue one boy asks me about a legendary Soul group from back before I was born even. I was impressed to say the least.
Just to test if he was faking the funk, I asked him what his favorite EW&F song was. He answered, "September." Wow.
Just to test if he was faking the funk, I asked him what his favorite EW&F song was. He answered, "September." Wow.
Dec 19, 2005
SNOW!!!
Today, Chubu (Central Japan) received its biggest snowfall in 60 years, which would mean folks from this area haven't seen snow like this since the end of WWII. By the time the party ended, there was roughly 8 in. (20 cm.) of snow on the streets, a devastating amount for Nagoya.
I woke up, looked out the window, and thought I was back home in Chicago. Until today, I'd only seen snowfall a grand total of three times out of my 3.75 years in Nagoya, and this was the second time in one week. I just KNEW school would be cancelled. The roads and trains virtually come to a standstill during heavy rain even, so given this amount of snow I heavily anticipated a day off from work. Plus, I remembered two winters before, when all the students were sent home from my (then) junior high school during a "blizzard," and it hadn't snowed half as much as this.
So I rose and showered as usual, taking my time, confident there would be school cancellations. I flipped on the television to check the weather report, though I couldn't decipher the characters scrolling across the screen. I phoned up one of my fellow teacher buddies, John, and asked him what he knew. To my chagrin...
There was school. Doh! In disbelief, I called my company to verify. No answer. I called my school, and was greeted by the secretary. He too, said there would be class as usual. Curses! On Mondays of all days, when I have to walk 15 minutes from the local train station to get to school, I definitely did not want to deal with this snow business. I reluctantly got ready and made my way to the train station, trying not to slip--there was even ice too!
The trains were a complete mess. The marquees that ususally display the punctual arrivals of the trains were blank, indicating that it was going to be a long morning journey. As it continued to snow, I waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually a train came trudging along. What was a 10 minute ride became a 30 minute ride. And after a beast of a walk through country ice and snow, I arrived right during the first recess to catch 5th graders gleefully tossing snow chunks at each other at the front of the school entrance. Barely noticing my arrival, I caught the attention of one boy, Takuya, who looked up and emphatically uttered "Snow!" Yes, "Snow," I replied. I was just under 3 hours late, and not too ecstatic.
The assistant vice-principal, with his trademark sly grin, greeted me, saying "You're a little late, huh?"
"Um, you think?" I mentally quipped.
"Well, because you're late, your 3rd period class is cancelled, so you'll just have your 4th and 5th period classes today," he informed me.
"Fine. Whatever," I thought, while nodding in confirmation.
That was okay, actually, because I needed the extra period to defrost and get some green tea in my system. The rest of the day was pretty normal; I taught the remainder of my schedule as usual, though I left school a few minutes early to give myself time to slip and slide back through those rural, icy backstreets to the train station. What a day.
I woke up, looked out the window, and thought I was back home in Chicago. Until today, I'd only seen snowfall a grand total of three times out of my 3.75 years in Nagoya, and this was the second time in one week. I just KNEW school would be cancelled. The roads and trains virtually come to a standstill during heavy rain even, so given this amount of snow I heavily anticipated a day off from work. Plus, I remembered two winters before, when all the students were sent home from my (then) junior high school during a "blizzard," and it hadn't snowed half as much as this.
So I rose and showered as usual, taking my time, confident there would be school cancellations. I flipped on the television to check the weather report, though I couldn't decipher the characters scrolling across the screen. I phoned up one of my fellow teacher buddies, John, and asked him what he knew. To my chagrin...
There was school. Doh! In disbelief, I called my company to verify. No answer. I called my school, and was greeted by the secretary. He too, said there would be class as usual. Curses! On Mondays of all days, when I have to walk 15 minutes from the local train station to get to school, I definitely did not want to deal with this snow business. I reluctantly got ready and made my way to the train station, trying not to slip--there was even ice too!
The trains were a complete mess. The marquees that ususally display the punctual arrivals of the trains were blank, indicating that it was going to be a long morning journey. As it continued to snow, I waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually a train came trudging along. What was a 10 minute ride became a 30 minute ride. And after a beast of a walk through country ice and snow, I arrived right during the first recess to catch 5th graders gleefully tossing snow chunks at each other at the front of the school entrance. Barely noticing my arrival, I caught the attention of one boy, Takuya, who looked up and emphatically uttered "Snow!" Yes, "Snow," I replied. I was just under 3 hours late, and not too ecstatic.
The assistant vice-principal, with his trademark sly grin, greeted me, saying "You're a little late, huh?"
"Um, you think?" I mentally quipped.
"Well, because you're late, your 3rd period class is cancelled, so you'll just have your 4th and 5th period classes today," he informed me.
"Fine. Whatever," I thought, while nodding in confirmation.
That was okay, actually, because I needed the extra period to defrost and get some green tea in my system. The rest of the day was pretty normal; I taught the remainder of my schedule as usual, though I left school a few minutes early to give myself time to slip and slide back through those rural, icy backstreets to the train station. What a day.
Dec 10, 2005
"SEAN"
I met Sean on the bus on the way home from school. I boarded and took my usual middle seat at the back (No diss to Rosa Parks, but that's the only seat on the compact bus that won't disfigure my long legs). As I was taking my seat, I immediately noticed a hip-hoppish-looking young Japanese guy with a cap, shades, shamrock-green Yankees Starter jacket, and a long braided ponytail. I didn't pay him much mind, mentally brushing him off as another J-hopper MTV Japan emulation.
It wasn't until I popped in my iPod earbuds and fired up Erykah Badu's Worldwide Underground did I hear a voice from my left. It was the hip-hoppish-looking guy. Initially, I think I gave him a "Wha?" before removing my phones. Naturally, I spoke to him in Japanese:
Him: "Erykah?"
Me: "Yeah. You have it?"
Him: (smiling) "Yeah."
And that was the beginning of our conversation. He introduced himself as "Sean," a very non-Japanese name which caused me to raise a suspicious eyebrow, to which he then revealed his real name as Shun (pr. shoon). He used the alias Sean to sound more Western. It turned out Shun liked soul music and had traveled to San Francisco where he'd made friends with a musician, a "Black man." Shun could also speak a little English, though we spoke mostly in Japanese. We began discussing music. He told me was in a band and played percussion, namely African drums. He commented several times that my Japanese was good, a compliment I appreciated though didn't overindulge in, as it seems almost any foreigner who speaks any level of Japanese is eligible for such praise from a Japanese person. Shun reeked of alcohol.
To my surprise, I also discovered that Shun, a construction welder by day, was on his way to Hawaii for 4 days to run in a marathon. Wow. At that point, I noticed his small luggage case. We continued to talk until we arrived at the train station, then rode the same train and taled some more. He told me he frequented Gary's, a well-known club that features live soul music by Black musicians. He invited me to come see him play at some club in Nagoya I'd never heard of. I'd mentioned the musical instruments in capoeira, and invited him to one my practices. Shun asked if Iwent out often, to which I responded "Not often." He also asked me if I liked to go out drinking--I guess that explained his pungent aroma. I didn't hold it against him; he seemed like a nice guy. We exchanged cell numbers and pleasant farewells--his in English, mine in Japanese--before I got off at my stop.
The biggest surprise of my encounter with Shun, was the fact that he spoke to me first. Admittedly, I tend not to bother with attempts to socialize with Japanese strangers, as Japanese people tend to be very socially reserved, especially toward stangers, especially toward foreigners. Only in a rare few instances have any Japanese strangers struck up conversation with me. I suppose "Sean" had gained some confidence from going abroad and befriending Black folks. Kudos for his bravery. Perhaps we'll meet again in the new year.
It wasn't until I popped in my iPod earbuds and fired up Erykah Badu's Worldwide Underground did I hear a voice from my left. It was the hip-hoppish-looking guy. Initially, I think I gave him a "Wha?" before removing my phones. Naturally, I spoke to him in Japanese:
Him: "Erykah?"
Me: "Yeah. You have it?"
Him: (smiling) "Yeah."
And that was the beginning of our conversation. He introduced himself as "Sean," a very non-Japanese name which caused me to raise a suspicious eyebrow, to which he then revealed his real name as Shun (pr. shoon). He used the alias Sean to sound more Western. It turned out Shun liked soul music and had traveled to San Francisco where he'd made friends with a musician, a "Black man." Shun could also speak a little English, though we spoke mostly in Japanese. We began discussing music. He told me was in a band and played percussion, namely African drums. He commented several times that my Japanese was good, a compliment I appreciated though didn't overindulge in, as it seems almost any foreigner who speaks any level of Japanese is eligible for such praise from a Japanese person. Shun reeked of alcohol.
To my surprise, I also discovered that Shun, a construction welder by day, was on his way to Hawaii for 4 days to run in a marathon. Wow. At that point, I noticed his small luggage case. We continued to talk until we arrived at the train station, then rode the same train and taled some more. He told me he frequented Gary's, a well-known club that features live soul music by Black musicians. He invited me to come see him play at some club in Nagoya I'd never heard of. I'd mentioned the musical instruments in capoeira, and invited him to one my practices. Shun asked if Iwent out often, to which I responded "Not often." He also asked me if I liked to go out drinking--I guess that explained his pungent aroma. I didn't hold it against him; he seemed like a nice guy. We exchanged cell numbers and pleasant farewells--his in English, mine in Japanese--before I got off at my stop.
The biggest surprise of my encounter with Shun, was the fact that he spoke to me first. Admittedly, I tend not to bother with attempts to socialize with Japanese strangers, as Japanese people tend to be very socially reserved, especially toward stangers, especially toward foreigners. Only in a rare few instances have any Japanese strangers struck up conversation with me. I suppose "Sean" had gained some confidence from going abroad and befriending Black folks. Kudos for his bravery. Perhaps we'll meet again in the new year.
Sep 18, 2005
I'M BACK(?)
I think this year's summer season slowed down blog production. It's been over 4 months since I dropped any science on y'all, but I've noticed some of my peers' blogs haven't seen daylight since July (I won't mention any names *COUGH* black bacchus *COUGH* brain droppings *COUGH* Ahem!)--so I'm not the only one!
Ahh, laziness enjoys company. =)
Actually, I'd been mulling over whether I should continue this blog thing in earnest, but I received inquiries from 2 out of my 3 readers. Majority rules, I couldn't ignore a 66.6% public demand any longer. The people have spoken.
There's been a bunch of activity in the last 4, so allow me to, once again, give you the highlights:
• Been busy at my 3 elementary schools in the new town, working for the new company. Haven't had any issues with the company. School life is cool: I'm fairly popular amongst the students, but I find I command more respect from students and teachers alike since I pretty much dress up everyday and present myself as less of a buddy to kids, and more of a teacher figure. Plus, I use a lot more Japanese than before, so that commands plenty of respect as well. I like being liked. I like being respected. Respect is good. But in the current context, I feel more comfortable being respected than loved. Well, probably in any context, for that matter.
• Endured a long, hot, nasty Japanese summer, which is slowly but steadily winding down (finally). This year was excessively hot and muggy, so I was elated to vacate the main island and hit sunny L.A. for a couple weeks. Speaking of which:
• Attended my cousin's wedding on a ranch in the canyons of Malibu. Very nice event. Almost the whole family came out, so it was more like a wedding/family reunion. Was glad to see all my folks and L.A. friends who I hadn't seen in 5-8 years. Had a really cool, chilled out time. I enjoyed U.S. prices immensely: did a *little bit* of shopping at one of the super outlets, and finally got a desperately-needed wristwatch for about $60. And $3 chicken burritos off the truck in the Mexican hood near downtown were the biz-omb. Also had a couple Japanese encounters while in So. Cali.: Encounter 1: went with my college friend, Mai, to see 1990's hit rapper Ahmad Jones's "HipRock Soul" band http://www.4thavenuejones.com , which were highly dope by the way. Mai was friends with Ahmad and 'em, so I met everyone in the band, including their half-Japanese guitarist Timmy Shakes. Mai told him that I live in Japan, and we had a cool little convo about that. He asked me if I spoke Japanese. I said yes. I asked him. He said no. Laughing, he was like "Teach me Japanese!" The irony of that was classic. Dude rocked OUT, by the way. I told him they should tour Japan, so Tim could inspire some soul in these young Japanese artists. Encounter 2: My cousin Ed took me to Century City to see Buju Banton. After the show, they had a female Japanese reggae dancer. The emcee was like "She's the #1 reggae dancer in Japan.." I was wondering if she was really Japanese, or American-born, so I decided to try to approach her and find out. I caught up to her outside the front of the club, and started speaking to her in Japanese. The conversation went like this:
Me: (tapping shoulder) "Excuse me.....Are you Japanese?"
Her: (turns head, stunned look on face) "Ye....Yes!"
"Oh really, where are you from?"
(sustained stunned look) "I'm from from Yokohama."
"Oh yeah? I live in Nagoya."
(sustained stunned look) (In broken English)"Now.....vacation!"
"How long are you here for?
"I go home the day after tomorrow."
"Really? Me t-...."
The conversation ended abruptly as her friends snatched her away, off to their next exploit. I can only imagine the thoughts flying through her head as to why an African-American man was speaking to her in Japanese outside of a club in So. Californina. The look on her face was classic, nonetheless.
Overall, I pretty much did everything I wanted to do in L.A., except play Capoeira. I called the number of the teacher that I'd found on the net, but it turned out to be a fax number. Doh! By the way, did I mention I met a preggy Jennifer Garner on the second leg of my flight to L.A. She sat in the seat in front of me, and flashed a smile at me as she came back to her seat from the toilet. She's actually pretty in person, too. Anyway, not to sound like a groupie, I'll end on that note. No, I didn't ask for an autograph.
• Witnessed my first Japanese pickpocket. I was kickin' it with my Nagoya homie DJ Black (Richard) one night, deejaying music on the corner in the downtown Sakae district. Two youngish hip-hoppy Japanese guys come up to us tryng to slap hands, speaking broken English talkin 'bout: "I-I....D..J.....Boogie!" He seemed drunk. He and his silent buddy sat nearby and listened to us play. Shorlty after Richard claimed he spotted that Boogie guy pluck some money out of an unsuspecting colleg-aged girl's purse, while she was carelessly running her mouth on her cell, ￥8000 (about US $80). To make a long one a short, Richard, trying to be a vigilant semaritan, confronted the guy about stealing the girls' money, but the guy vehemently denied, all the while pulling up his shirt and rabbit-earing his pockets to demonstrate his innocence. He was clearly guilty. Meanwhile, the victim, her friend and various bystanders (all Japanese) acknowledged the girls' money had been stolen, but none readily accepted that the culprit was indeed guilty, merely because he denied it. Everyone stood around confused like "He said he didn't take it, so maybe he didn't." Richard grew furious with Boogie's blatant lying and strip-searched him in some nearby bushes. After a while, we kept looking around the crime scene and even found crumpled bills Boogie had slyly jettisoned to the ground once he realized he's been caught. Even after discovering evidence, the onlookers still didn't seem very fazed. In fact, the victim and her friend didn't even want the money back, or police involvement, because it would "cause too much trouble." They were willing to let the culprit stand in plain sight and walk away with free money. I was dumbfounded by the level of complacency and ignorance I witnessed. I considered that yet another demerit to the overly-passiveness of Japanese culture.
• One other thing: I started recording new material for a new a mixtape collab with DJ Katalist from BC, Canada. Straight HEAT. IMHOTEP MetaMixtape
Ahh, laziness enjoys company. =)
Actually, I'd been mulling over whether I should continue this blog thing in earnest, but I received inquiries from 2 out of my 3 readers. Majority rules, I couldn't ignore a 66.6% public demand any longer. The people have spoken.
There's been a bunch of activity in the last 4, so allow me to, once again, give you the highlights:
• Been busy at my 3 elementary schools in the new town, working for the new company. Haven't had any issues with the company. School life is cool: I'm fairly popular amongst the students, but I find I command more respect from students and teachers alike since I pretty much dress up everyday and present myself as less of a buddy to kids, and more of a teacher figure. Plus, I use a lot more Japanese than before, so that commands plenty of respect as well. I like being liked. I like being respected. Respect is good. But in the current context, I feel more comfortable being respected than loved. Well, probably in any context, for that matter.
• Endured a long, hot, nasty Japanese summer, which is slowly but steadily winding down (finally). This year was excessively hot and muggy, so I was elated to vacate the main island and hit sunny L.A. for a couple weeks. Speaking of which:
• Attended my cousin's wedding on a ranch in the canyons of Malibu. Very nice event. Almost the whole family came out, so it was more like a wedding/family reunion. Was glad to see all my folks and L.A. friends who I hadn't seen in 5-8 years. Had a really cool, chilled out time. I enjoyed U.S. prices immensely: did a *little bit* of shopping at one of the super outlets, and finally got a desperately-needed wristwatch for about $60. And $3 chicken burritos off the truck in the Mexican hood near downtown were the biz-omb. Also had a couple Japanese encounters while in So. Cali.: Encounter 1: went with my college friend, Mai, to see 1990's hit rapper Ahmad Jones's "HipRock Soul" band http://www.4thavenuejones.com , which were highly dope by the way. Mai was friends with Ahmad and 'em, so I met everyone in the band, including their half-Japanese guitarist Timmy Shakes. Mai told him that I live in Japan, and we had a cool little convo about that. He asked me if I spoke Japanese. I said yes. I asked him. He said no. Laughing, he was like "Teach me Japanese!" The irony of that was classic. Dude rocked OUT, by the way. I told him they should tour Japan, so Tim could inspire some soul in these young Japanese artists. Encounter 2: My cousin Ed took me to Century City to see Buju Banton. After the show, they had a female Japanese reggae dancer. The emcee was like "She's the #1 reggae dancer in Japan.." I was wondering if she was really Japanese, or American-born, so I decided to try to approach her and find out. I caught up to her outside the front of the club, and started speaking to her in Japanese. The conversation went like this:
Me: (tapping shoulder) "Excuse me.....Are you Japanese?"
Her: (turns head, stunned look on face) "Ye....Yes!"
"Oh really, where are you from?"
(sustained stunned look) "I'm from from Yokohama."
"Oh yeah? I live in Nagoya."
(sustained stunned look) (In broken English)"Now.....vacation!"
"How long are you here for?
"I go home the day after tomorrow."
"Really? Me t-...."
The conversation ended abruptly as her friends snatched her away, off to their next exploit. I can only imagine the thoughts flying through her head as to why an African-American man was speaking to her in Japanese outside of a club in So. Californina. The look on her face was classic, nonetheless.
Overall, I pretty much did everything I wanted to do in L.A., except play Capoeira. I called the number of the teacher that I'd found on the net, but it turned out to be a fax number. Doh! By the way, did I mention I met a preggy Jennifer Garner on the second leg of my flight to L.A. She sat in the seat in front of me, and flashed a smile at me as she came back to her seat from the toilet. She's actually pretty in person, too. Anyway, not to sound like a groupie, I'll end on that note. No, I didn't ask for an autograph.
• Witnessed my first Japanese pickpocket. I was kickin' it with my Nagoya homie DJ Black (Richard) one night, deejaying music on the corner in the downtown Sakae district. Two youngish hip-hoppy Japanese guys come up to us tryng to slap hands, speaking broken English talkin 'bout: "I-I....D..J.....Boogie!" He seemed drunk. He and his silent buddy sat nearby and listened to us play. Shorlty after Richard claimed he spotted that Boogie guy pluck some money out of an unsuspecting colleg-aged girl's purse, while she was carelessly running her mouth on her cell, ￥8000 (about US $80). To make a long one a short, Richard, trying to be a vigilant semaritan, confronted the guy about stealing the girls' money, but the guy vehemently denied, all the while pulling up his shirt and rabbit-earing his pockets to demonstrate his innocence. He was clearly guilty. Meanwhile, the victim, her friend and various bystanders (all Japanese) acknowledged the girls' money had been stolen, but none readily accepted that the culprit was indeed guilty, merely because he denied it. Everyone stood around confused like "He said he didn't take it, so maybe he didn't." Richard grew furious with Boogie's blatant lying and strip-searched him in some nearby bushes. After a while, we kept looking around the crime scene and even found crumpled bills Boogie had slyly jettisoned to the ground once he realized he's been caught. Even after discovering evidence, the onlookers still didn't seem very fazed. In fact, the victim and her friend didn't even want the money back, or police involvement, because it would "cause too much trouble." They were willing to let the culprit stand in plain sight and walk away with free money. I was dumbfounded by the level of complacency and ignorance I witnessed. I considered that yet another demerit to the overly-passiveness of Japanese culture.
• One other thing: I started recording new material for a new a mixtape collab with DJ Katalist from BC, Canada. Straight HEAT. IMHOTEP MetaMixtape
May 4, 2005
CINCO DE MAYO QUICKIE UPDATES
Dear loyal reader: I'm not dead. And the date is 05/05/05 on the 5th day of the week (Thu). How rare is that?
It's been a busy spring so far, with a lot of things happening/happened. Let's gloss over the highlights:
• Said a solemn sayonara to my elementary school and a polite good rittins to the JHS at the end of March.
• Due to shady company drama, I was forced to seek employment with new company. New employment acquired. Same job, different employer, different city of work.
• Went cherry blossom-viewing, domestically bka “O-hanami.” Stunningly gorgeous for a whole two weeks.
• Celebrated another birthday. Yay! Birthday booty: a brand new box spring mattress, courtesy of my girl. The spinal-misaligning futon era comes to an end (Hurray!).
• Started work in new city, new school system. Now teaching at 3 elementary schools (no JHS). 3 schools, 50 classes, 1400 students, working with 50 different homeroom teachers, teaching 21-25 periods out of a 30 period week, not to mention planning and almost completely running every class in English and Japanese, even though I’m actually an “assistant” teacher by title (ha!), have assumed double the responsibility and workload of my previous schools, however with no increase in pay (argh). Also discovered that most Japanese kids under 15 don't know who Michael Jordan is (yikes!).
• Historic commuter train wreck in Hyogo prefecture leaves over 100 dead, hundreds more injured (I was not one of them-- different prefect.)
• Brand-new Apple computer tragically and mysteriously suffers roughly $900 US worth of damage, leaving me devastated.
• Brand-new Apple computer triumphantly and miraculously is repaired out of good faith by local Apple Store (after much perseverance, politicking and pleading).
• Enjoying beautiful weather during the Golden Week national holidays!
It's been a busy spring so far, with a lot of things happening/happened. Let's gloss over the highlights:
• Said a solemn sayonara to my elementary school and a polite good rittins to the JHS at the end of March.
• Due to shady company drama, I was forced to seek employment with new company. New employment acquired. Same job, different employer, different city of work.
• Went cherry blossom-viewing, domestically bka “O-hanami.” Stunningly gorgeous for a whole two weeks.
• Celebrated another birthday. Yay! Birthday booty: a brand new box spring mattress, courtesy of my girl. The spinal-misaligning futon era comes to an end (Hurray!).
• Started work in new city, new school system. Now teaching at 3 elementary schools (no JHS). 3 schools, 50 classes, 1400 students, working with 50 different homeroom teachers, teaching 21-25 periods out of a 30 period week, not to mention planning and almost completely running every class in English and Japanese, even though I’m actually an “assistant” teacher by title (ha!), have assumed double the responsibility and workload of my previous schools, however with no increase in pay (argh). Also discovered that most Japanese kids under 15 don't know who Michael Jordan is (yikes!).
• Historic commuter train wreck in Hyogo prefecture leaves over 100 dead, hundreds more injured (I was not one of them-- different prefect.)
• Brand-new Apple computer tragically and mysteriously suffers roughly $900 US worth of damage, leaving me devastated.
• Brand-new Apple computer triumphantly and miraculously is repaired out of good faith by local Apple Store (after much perseverance, politicking and pleading).
• Enjoying beautiful weather during the Golden Week national holidays!
Mar 17, 2005
SAYONARA JHS
Today was my last day at JHS, as I'll be changing schools for the
next school year. I didn't want to make a big tadoo about leaving, as I
didn't want to go through the ritual of saying goodbye's to all the
teachers with phony a sentiment seeing as how I got the love of a
red-headed stepchild for the bulk of the two years I spent there. I was
comfortable with the idea of leaving quietly, after all, I doubt I'd be
missed much. However, a quiet departure wasn't to be.
My plan was to give a few personal than-you's to the principals and the office secretary, Mrs. Kanie who'd been unfailingly nice to me since I first came to the school. I had two classes for the whole day, one with the special learning class. I had my last lunch with their class, and they gave me a jello-like fruit cup with a little "sayonara than-you note" attached. That was pretty nice. As the time rolled around for me to get off, I went to seek out the vice-principal to say my goodbye. Couldn't find him. Asked the secretary, and turned out he was in a meeting. I asked how long it would it be and she said she didn't know. Kind of blowing my spot, she said "Oh, today's your last day! I have to get the principal!" Immediately, I knew this was going to become a big deal. She went into the principal's office, adjoined to the staff room, and told them I wanted to speak to them. The vice-principal came out and before I could get two words in edgewise, he started clamoring about it being my last day and that they would have to summon all the teachers to the staff room for a formal goodbye. Aww jeez no.
The cat was out the bag and they were on the school loudspeaker before I knew it calling all teachers to the staffroom for the big formal goodbye. After the 20 or so teachers returned, the principal made a brief announcement about me leaving then called me to the head of the staffroom. All the teachers had to stand at their desks while I spoke. I thought I heard the principal say I could speak in English, but I deliverd my final words in Japanese. A few generic lines of Japanese business niceties followed by a bow to get me out of there in a hurry. I said something along the line of "Thank you" and "I had a good time at the school, good luck, goodbye, etc." The whole time, I half-felt like flipping them the bird, but what can I say--I was brought up too well to go out like that; thus, I went out with class. Shucks. Everyone politely clapped when I finished, and a few people shook my hand. The principal stood to the side making comical faces, innocently patronizing me about my Japanese being "pera-pera" or "fluent." Yeah right. Thanks.
And that was pretty much it. I got my stuff and headed toward the door, while everyone remained standing and gazing. One teacher handed me a grapefruit. Thanks. I actually mustered a decent smile as I shook the princpals' hands a couple more times. The always jesterly principal, slapped me on the back while laughingly feigning tears as I hit the door, as if to say that I'd be missed. Nice try homie. Sayonara JHS.
What can I say?: I never felt like I was genuinely respected/appreciated by the teachers there, but they were at least courteous on my way out. I have to accept it as another of life's many learning experiences. On to bigger and better.
My plan was to give a few personal than-you's to the principals and the office secretary, Mrs. Kanie who'd been unfailingly nice to me since I first came to the school. I had two classes for the whole day, one with the special learning class. I had my last lunch with their class, and they gave me a jello-like fruit cup with a little "sayonara than-you note" attached. That was pretty nice. As the time rolled around for me to get off, I went to seek out the vice-principal to say my goodbye. Couldn't find him. Asked the secretary, and turned out he was in a meeting. I asked how long it would it be and she said she didn't know. Kind of blowing my spot, she said "Oh, today's your last day! I have to get the principal!" Immediately, I knew this was going to become a big deal. She went into the principal's office, adjoined to the staff room, and told them I wanted to speak to them. The vice-principal came out and before I could get two words in edgewise, he started clamoring about it being my last day and that they would have to summon all the teachers to the staff room for a formal goodbye. Aww jeez no.
The cat was out the bag and they were on the school loudspeaker before I knew it calling all teachers to the staffroom for the big formal goodbye. After the 20 or so teachers returned, the principal made a brief announcement about me leaving then called me to the head of the staffroom. All the teachers had to stand at their desks while I spoke. I thought I heard the principal say I could speak in English, but I deliverd my final words in Japanese. A few generic lines of Japanese business niceties followed by a bow to get me out of there in a hurry. I said something along the line of "Thank you" and "I had a good time at the school, good luck, goodbye, etc." The whole time, I half-felt like flipping them the bird, but what can I say--I was brought up too well to go out like that; thus, I went out with class. Shucks. Everyone politely clapped when I finished, and a few people shook my hand. The principal stood to the side making comical faces, innocently patronizing me about my Japanese being "pera-pera" or "fluent." Yeah right. Thanks.
And that was pretty much it. I got my stuff and headed toward the door, while everyone remained standing and gazing. One teacher handed me a grapefruit. Thanks. I actually mustered a decent smile as I shook the princpals' hands a couple more times. The always jesterly principal, slapped me on the back while laughingly feigning tears as I hit the door, as if to say that I'd be missed. Nice try homie. Sayonara JHS.
What can I say?: I never felt like I was genuinely respected/appreciated by the teachers there, but they were at least courteous on my way out. I have to accept it as another of life's many learning experiences. On to bigger and better.
Feb 15, 2005
HOW TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED BY A BLACK FOREIGNER
There's about 5 weeks of the school year left, and I'm glad because the needle on my Japanese B.S.-Tolerance Gauge has been taking precarious dips in the red lately. Of course, I'm talking about JHS life.
So, in class yesterday, a third-year boy named Tetsuro said the word "nigger" to me, out of the blue. It actually sounded more like "nee gah," a mispronunciation byproduct of the effed-up speak known domestically as "Japanese English." Despite the mispronunciation, which sucked just about all of the impact out of the word, I picked up on it immediately. At the time, I was walking around the classroom preparing students to pair off to play a game. I'd just approached Tetsuro's desk, when he suddenly uttered the word, followed by a sheepish chuckle. The boy sitting across from him, Kauzuki instantly warned him to be quiet-- he knew better. In Japanese, I instantly asked "What did you say?" and "Who taught you that word?" Embarrassed, he clammed up, leaving Kazuki to answer in his stead "He doesn't know." I then calmly instructed him to not to say it again. He complied.
Now, for a split second, I was faced with the decision to get angry and blow the incident up into a major issue, which could have gotten ugly. But for some reason, I chose not to get upset, simply due to the fact that this 15-year old kid had no clue what world he was about to enter by trying to be funny, unmaliciously spouting some mangled word he heard from one of his wiseass friends, or probably read in some J-hip-hop magazine. The concept that he could he hospitalized just for saying that one word alone was miles over his head. That, and the fact that Tetsuro is one of the most unproductive kids in his grade and about as bright as a black hole actually made me feel sympathy for him. Obviously, a country-ass kid as dull as that couldn't come from parents too much brighter; afterall, he's not so much of a bad kid, he's just dumb as hell, so I couldn't really hold it against him, even though I wanted to smack him in the mouth. But, damn, hearing a racial epithet in an environment where I'm already virtually socially ostracized is like tossing a fat straw on a creaking camel's back. I really don't want to have to hurt any students, or teachers for that matter. I'm about 90% sure if it had been any J-person on the street, It would've gotten physical, joking or not.
These days I've been feeling like the brothas on the Brooklyn stoop of Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing"--Step on my Nikes and catch a beat-down.
So, in class yesterday, a third-year boy named Tetsuro said the word "nigger" to me, out of the blue. It actually sounded more like "nee gah," a mispronunciation byproduct of the effed-up speak known domestically as "Japanese English." Despite the mispronunciation, which sucked just about all of the impact out of the word, I picked up on it immediately. At the time, I was walking around the classroom preparing students to pair off to play a game. I'd just approached Tetsuro's desk, when he suddenly uttered the word, followed by a sheepish chuckle. The boy sitting across from him, Kauzuki instantly warned him to be quiet-- he knew better. In Japanese, I instantly asked "What did you say?" and "Who taught you that word?" Embarrassed, he clammed up, leaving Kazuki to answer in his stead "He doesn't know." I then calmly instructed him to not to say it again. He complied.
Now, for a split second, I was faced with the decision to get angry and blow the incident up into a major issue, which could have gotten ugly. But for some reason, I chose not to get upset, simply due to the fact that this 15-year old kid had no clue what world he was about to enter by trying to be funny, unmaliciously spouting some mangled word he heard from one of his wiseass friends, or probably read in some J-hip-hop magazine. The concept that he could he hospitalized just for saying that one word alone was miles over his head. That, and the fact that Tetsuro is one of the most unproductive kids in his grade and about as bright as a black hole actually made me feel sympathy for him. Obviously, a country-ass kid as dull as that couldn't come from parents too much brighter; afterall, he's not so much of a bad kid, he's just dumb as hell, so I couldn't really hold it against him, even though I wanted to smack him in the mouth. But, damn, hearing a racial epithet in an environment where I'm already virtually socially ostracized is like tossing a fat straw on a creaking camel's back. I really don't want to have to hurt any students, or teachers for that matter. I'm about 90% sure if it had been any J-person on the street, It would've gotten physical, joking or not.
These days I've been feeling like the brothas on the Brooklyn stoop of Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing"--Step on my Nikes and catch a beat-down.
Feb 6, 2005
DAMN, IT'S COLD
Japanese folk need to come to Chicago because I think they like cold.
I actually got to Elementary a little early today, to my chagrin. I made it just in time for the big morning assembly, which was held inside for a change. It might has well have been outside, because I swear it was colder inside that gymnasium than it was outside. My breath was so cold, my breath looked I was smoking cigarettes. Ridiculous. The meeting was longer than usual, because the graduating 6th grader color team captains had to pass down their ranks to the 4th graders. This entailed a lot of excessive speaking and low-grade pomp and circumstance. As if everyone wasn't freezing to death, it seemed like they kept extending the duration of the meeting, finding more and more unnecessary b.s. to ammend to an already overdrawn assembly. They capped it off with the GAYEST school dance known in the Eastern hemisphere. Besides being ultra-campy, it lacked flavor, style and coordination. They need a choreographer. And don't look at me like I'm the token nigger dance-boy teaching Japanese folk how to dance and catch rhythm--to hell with that. The assistant principal came up to me and asked me to join in. I looked around and none of the other teachers are moving a muscle. I'm thinking to myself "Why the hell you want me to do this exceptionally GAY dance when not one other teacher is twitching a butt cheek? What I look like?" Then after a few seconds I start doing a few of the little moves, just trying to generate some heat. I dunno, but I'm feeling like this next school year might be last at this gig--I can already feel the seeds of disinterest settling in--and there's not much worse in life than being bored.
On another note, I don't have class until 3rd period, so until then I'm monitoring the online play-by-play of Super Bowl 39, even though it's Monday morning, Feb 7th. I haven't been a pro football fan in some time, but I'm quietly rooting for McNabb to get this ring. It's past due time to add another Black QB to the championship cadre. Doug is lonely. Go Eagles!
I actually got to Elementary a little early today, to my chagrin. I made it just in time for the big morning assembly, which was held inside for a change. It might has well have been outside, because I swear it was colder inside that gymnasium than it was outside. My breath was so cold, my breath looked I was smoking cigarettes. Ridiculous. The meeting was longer than usual, because the graduating 6th grader color team captains had to pass down their ranks to the 4th graders. This entailed a lot of excessive speaking and low-grade pomp and circumstance. As if everyone wasn't freezing to death, it seemed like they kept extending the duration of the meeting, finding more and more unnecessary b.s. to ammend to an already overdrawn assembly. They capped it off with the GAYEST school dance known in the Eastern hemisphere. Besides being ultra-campy, it lacked flavor, style and coordination. They need a choreographer. And don't look at me like I'm the token nigger dance-boy teaching Japanese folk how to dance and catch rhythm--to hell with that. The assistant principal came up to me and asked me to join in. I looked around and none of the other teachers are moving a muscle. I'm thinking to myself "Why the hell you want me to do this exceptionally GAY dance when not one other teacher is twitching a butt cheek? What I look like?" Then after a few seconds I start doing a few of the little moves, just trying to generate some heat. I dunno, but I'm feeling like this next school year might be last at this gig--I can already feel the seeds of disinterest settling in--and there's not much worse in life than being bored.
On another note, I don't have class until 3rd period, so until then I'm monitoring the online play-by-play of Super Bowl 39, even though it's Monday morning, Feb 7th. I haven't been a pro football fan in some time, but I'm quietly rooting for McNabb to get this ring. It's past due time to add another Black QB to the championship cadre. Doug is lonely. Go Eagles!
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