Field Notes from My Master's Project in Japan 1997: Week 3

Week Three

Wednesday, July 29, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Dekiru.Dekiru. (Can do, Can do)

I arrived in Akita last night. Seven of my old friends came to the airport to meet me. I was nervous, wondering how everything would work out particularly because Takahashi, my main contact in Kawabe, called me last night wondering if I was actually in Japan.

I am staying in a one-room apartment by myself near the one supermarket, WellMahto (Wellmart). The only other westerner in this town is Tara Olmstead, an American woman who has my old job teaching English at all the elementary and junior high schools here. She lives in this apartment and is letting me stay here while she is vacationing in the States. Takahashi and another old friend, Seki, showed me how to do everything in the apartment short of blowing my own nose. I had forgotten this about the Japanese. They worry for your comfort and that means showing you where the bathroom is in a room the size of a US living room that has two doors and one of them you came in through. It is so endearing but in 1991, after a year, I remember I found it maddening. My friends also did the usual Japanese song and dance about how good my Japanese was. In Japan, all you have to say is Good Morning (Ohaiyo) with some degree of efficiency and soon people are hemming and hawing about your excellent language skills. I actually have been surprised with how quickly it has all come back. I am remembering things I didn't even know I knew.

Seki and Takahashi left saying "take a rest; you must be tired from all the travel." Mind you it was only a one-hour flight from Tokyo. This is another thing I had forgotten about Japan. They believe in resting. An inherent part of the language is "Go Kurosama Deshita," which they say after you complete a task or journey. Basically it means it was hard work; thank you for your trouble.

Later that night, Takahashi came to pick me up and we went to his house for dinner. His wife and two kids were there. I used to teach one of his kids, who is now 20. The word for old lady in Japanese is Obaaachan (make the sound like a lamb). That would be me. We had sushi, fresh and yummy. The youngest son kept glaring at me with a sullen look because Takahashi kept putting the best pieces on my plate. I can't say I wasn't grateful because, as in most families with an 18-year-old boy, delicious food can disappear pretty quickly, and Atsushi opened the sushi and started eating before anyone could even find their chopsticks. Takahashi and his wife seem to have a much better relationship than I remember. This time, she ate with us and participated as I caught up on the gossip of the town. She even volunteered a little English, which is very reassuring because it means she feels comfortable around me. I was surprised to find out that none of the women who played Taiko with me six years ago are married. They all must be close to 40. Evidently this is a Japanese trend; women are getting married at older ages, if at all.

Takahashi showed me a video advertising Kawabe as a beautiful green country place with many fun activities, and guess who is in it playing the drum? Watashi desu. Me.
After the video and dinner, Takahashi and I talked about the project. It seems like he has a clear grasp of how I need to work. I also showed him the clip from the midwife story, reinforcing this style. I asked about a possible homestay with a farmer, and was told that they can barely eat right now. Evidently times are hard for the farmers. I am going to find out more about this. He also mentioned a friend of ours whose wife is going to have a baby in October. (This is the friend who came to San Francisco and proposed to me in Yellowstone Park). And he said that next week is Haka no Soji, cleaning of the family grave stones in preparation for the Obon Festival honoring the dead whose spirits are believed to return home for this week. He says that it is early in the morning and should be interesting.

I mentioned that I would like to photograph a nursing home. As I said earlier in these notes, I read about an anthropologist who conducted a study in a nursing home in Hokkaido. Nursing care is relatively new in Japan and she was studying the structures within the home. Photographing this new phenomenon might prove interesting. Takahashi responded enthusiastically, "Dekiru, Dekiru," which means can do. He is going to introduce me to someone this week.

Wednesday, July 30, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Ageru yo. I'll give this to you.

My first day in the town of Kawabe, I went for a walk. Takahashi wanted me to reacquaint myself with the town before I started getting active and shooting. No problem. I think he is right. He knows me well enough to know that I throw myself into things.

I headed out around 10:00 am. It was hot and humid, though not as bad as I remember. I walked passed a group of construction workers. There was only one woman who was four feet tall. She must have been at least 65 and was wearing a huge white cotton bonnet. Her arms and hands were covered with big white gloves with sleeves. Most Japanese women hate the sun, and often the older ones dress themselves up to look like little country dolls.

On my way back through town, I decided to stop in a hardware store. A little old woman with dyed black hair and dentures was sitting behind an old desk. She laughed, rather cackled, at everything I said and asked me to sit down and chat because it is rare that they get western customers. About 45 minutes later, I left with a brand new knife sharpener that costs about $20. I had merely inquired if they sold them because in America I had never seen such useful tools. I thought my mother would like one. With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she said "shhhh, ageru yo," and leaned closer pushing it into my bag. Of course I protested, trying to remember the proper way to refuse a gift, which there is none, just the awkward moment when my Japanese can't come out to stop such kindness. Them shh-shing me and saying IIe Iie (it is nothing), knowing they have won because it is more rude to refuse. That is how the entire culture works. I do something nice for you and you feel uncomfortable, but are pleased by my kindness. Later, you do something nice for me or someone else such as giving vegetables, fruit, or cakes. In the country this is proper etiquette for older Japanese people.

My walk continued on to Mrs. Oiishi's house, who is a hairdresser. First of all, six years ago she dressed me as a Japanese bride in a kimono, styling my hair like a geisha. She casually timed it so that I was finished just around the time that her single son got home from work all the while discussing what an eligible bachelor he was. They videoed the entire thing. I looked hideous.

This trip, I walked in and she was wearing a batiqued halter top and skirt, waving around a red feathered fan and shaking her hips to the Macarena. Behind her are two children frantically trying to imitate her moves. After greeting me with a big smile, she informed me that they have a performance during the Obon festival. She smiled and whispered in my ear that she is trying to get them ready for the performance, but they aren't very good yet.

Mrs. Oishii lives in a traditional Japanese house with tatami mats that is connected to her beauty salon. Her house is filthy by my standards. Not only is it cluttered with junk piled high in every crack, but there is also years of food sticking to the kitchen walls, and I am not sure if she ever sweeps. I had forgotten about the clutter and filth in Japan. Many houses that I have seen are like this; the clean image that the Japanese have is not totally true. Although every morning most homes, offices, and schools do soji (cleaning), saying it cleans their heart and mind, I am not sure what that entails. Maybe they just move junk around.

After the dance practice was over, Mrs. Oishii offered me some tea and showed me this $5,000 machine that she bought to give her more ki. Basically by sitting on an electric mat, and having a current pulsing through you, you increase your ki. I tried it and I felt a little strange as if I had altered some important atoms. We ate lunch together and she insisted on having a beer in my honor, which made her even more lively and outrageous. She served up instant food taken out of the freezer and various plastic packages lying around her filthy kitchen. Another Japanese myth dispelled; they don't all eat amazing food. She then called her son, Masato, to tell him that I was here and proceeded to give herself a facial with a strange machine in her beauty parlor. She also treated me to a facial and then invited me to go on a walk with her and Pack, her dog, at 5:30 a.m. the next day.

Masato, who has a haircut mildly reminiscent of the cartoon character Nancy without the bow, told me about a group of single young men and women (mostly men) in Kawabe that get together to go camping or volunteer. Wakamono no kai, which basically means group of young things, is going camping this weekend. Masato invited me along. I know several members from when I was here before; some are my old students. Sounds like fun as well as a good opportunity to take pictures showing younger generations of the town. I asked Masato why no one was marrying. Masato says that men and women are not getting married because the men are weak and the women are strong. Hmm.

I left Mrs.Oishii's feeling a little guilty for staying so long. She just kept chatting especially after drinking that beer. I forgot that it is up to the visitor to leave; the hostess will never push you out the door. I will remember in the future.

My next stop was a visit to my old friend Mrs. Yamada. She was my next door neighbor, and once when I was extremely ill she brought me lunch and dinner for an entire week. At that time, we had not been introduced formally and I was too sick to talk. She would quietly leave the tray in the doorway and come and take the dishes away. Eventually we became great friends and would get together at least once a week and drink wine, solving all of the problems in the world. She is a Jehovah's Witness and she told me she met Tara Olmstead (the person who is loaning me her apartment) on a recent conversion excursion. She goes house to house telling people about Kurisuto (Christ).

When I walked in the door, we both almost started crying because for six years I have had the wrong address and all my mail was returned, so neither of us have been able to contact each other. We sat for an hour talking. She ran to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher with my name written in faded red magic marker. I must have given it to her before I left. Although my name had faded after six years, she said she always thinks of me when she uses it.

I told her about my project. She mentioned that now because most of the farmers are old, there is a group of young people that assist them. I think that this could be worth investigating for the project.

My fear with this project is that I am going to have too many things to photograph. But so far I am OK.

II yo. Good, no problem yo.

I also went to Taiko practice last night. The group is fun!! Everyone jokes around and makes fun of each other. They have really gotten good in the last seven years and are playing some difficult songs. The lighting was terrible, so I recorded some sound and shot a roll of film to see what the color shift is. Takahashi wants me to play in the fall festival, which is fine, but there is no way that I am going to be able to learn all the songs in two weeks.

I met a few 20-year-old girls who go to Minnesota University Akita Campus. One of them is quite large; she went to America and likes to practice her English, which I find mildly comforting. She was wearing cut off Levis and a white T-shirt. I told them why I was there and asked them to just forget about me. Ahh, ii yo. No problem. Then I asked if I could take pictures of them getting ready for the Kanto Matsuri. Again, no problem. Access seems good so far.

While I think taiko could be an interesting story, I can only see it as one aspect of the project, if that. There does not seem to be enough substance, nor am I interested in spending a huge amount of time on this group. I like the sound, and I did record sound which I can see as being the base note for the entire multi-media presentation. In that respect, taiko is important for the project.

Thursday, July 31, 1997 - Kawabe

This morning I met Mrs. Oishii at 5:45 for a walk. Wearing a straw hat with a wide rim and black bow, bright white gloves, knee-length black jeans with black-and-white striped knee socks, and a shirt that looked like a Hermez scarf, off we went with Pack, her dog, into the rice paddies. She walks for an hour every day because she wants to be strong. Also she says that she works very hard on having clean thoughts because that keeps her young. I took a few pictures, but I find it difficult to shoot action. There is much activity in this town before 9 because the air is still very cool. Mrs. Oishii told me that at 6:30 a.m. the children gather near the train station for radio taiso. Tomorrow I am going to check it out.

Mrs. Oishii also said she could introduce me to a family that has four generations living together. I thought that might be another interesting component for this story. Kind of a visual discussion pointing to the generations that have lived in this town.

After my walk, I rode my bike to Kawabe So, the nursing home. Takahashi set up a meeting between me and the director. The director, Takahito Iwaya, was very agreeable and gave me total access. I am even going to be able to stay the night once a week. This is going to be a big challenge for me though I am not sure how; I just know that it will be. The older people are hard to understand, and many of them are bed ridden. Women out number the men about 8 to 1. At this time, there are about 54 people. They have some that just come for the day, and about half stay there all the time. The staff numbers 17 with two being nurses. All of the cayah takahs (care takers) are women except for three men.

When I met with Iwaya, I had just ridden my bike in the heat of the day 20 minutes up a huge hill to get there. He kept saying "Atsui ne," which means "it is hot, isn't it." In the summer in Japan, you hear that at least 100 times a day along with other obvious observations. As we sat and talked, I was trying to explain my purpose as buckets of sweat poured down my face. There were no windows open, and a fan was sitting unplugged in the corner of the office. Finally I just got up and turned it on. He said that in addition to the three days that I asked to come, I would be welcome any time. He thinks I am a little crazy to want to spend the night because of ghosts, but said that he would put me in a room with one of the care workers.

Although we spent more than two hours talking and touring the facility, we spent only 15 minutes talking about the actual project. This is the Japanese way. The true reason happens to be secondary to getting to know someone. And by this I mean sitting down, sipping tea and talking about baseball or the weather, or just sitting there. For minutes at a time we sat and talked about baseball and Terminator, the movie. And for minutes at a time there was silence. Six years ago this made me very uncomfortable, but now I actually enjoy the mental space to think about what I need to ask. I can't help but to wonder if this is normal, or just because I am not Japanese.

Mai nichi asobi ni kitte. Every day come here to play.
I pedaled home feeling good about the nursing home and the opportunity to shoot there. The evening light was beautiful. I saw a truly amazing sight and tried to take a picture though not too successfully. Coming across the green rice fields was a hunched-over older man pulling a cart. Sitting in the cart was an old woman who I later found out is 84. Every day the two of them go into the fields. I followed them to an old-style Japanese house neatly hidden in between two brand new houses. They were cool to my advances; yes I was trying to pick them up. Maybe I can get an introduction. Everything works on introductions here. If you have one usually there is no problem.

There is a garden with neat rows of sprouting vegetables near the apartment where I am staying. An older woman was watering the vegetables, taking water from a nearby waterway. She had on the traditional white bonnet that I find so endearing. Although I was tired, I talked myself into going out. I am glad I did; she was so sweet and friendly. She told me that she was 65 years old and worked in the city. Every day she came to this garden to have fun. Tanoshimi is a word that means enjoy and have fun. This was what she enjoyed. I explained to her what I was doing in Japan and she didn't seem to get it. But I took a nice portrait of her smiling with the white bonnet on. She kept saying Mai nichi, asobi ni kitte. I don't think she would really appreciate me showing up every day to take pictures, though I told her when I had free time I would be sure to stop in and was excited that we could become friends. Last time I was here I was always waving and stopping to talk to people. This is how I met many people. Not only did I feel it important to be friendly because most of them had never met a Westerner, but it was also fun. I became known as the girl who always waves (raises her hand in direct translation).

I got an idea for my final project. To have portraits of people that I meet in the town flash on the screen to the beat of the Taiko. Starting with older people and ending with babies if I can. And then launching into the different sections of the project.

I feel like I am in a dream. Tonight I was sitting at the table of an old friend, Kasuko Matsuda. I taught her English six years ago. Kazuko invited me over for dinner saying that she was not going to fix anything very delicious. Of course I had forgotten about the Japanese way of humbleness and was expecting a little bit of fish and some soup. When I arrived the table was covered with beautiful little dishes containing colorful and delicious foods. Well not totally--Kazuko decided we should have a special treat, Cow's tongue. Couldn't do that one.

She has offered to have me stay with her next month after Tara Olmstead returns from the United States. She has a huge new house and a barn. Her old house had a cow living in the entrance way, but during a typhoon three years ago the house down and she sold the cow. As I walked in the door her husband was just getting out of the ofuro (bath). He was walking around on two tiny legs no thicker than my arm, and he was wearing the traditional cotton undies that are basically one long piece of cloth wrapped around the legs and stomach. They are white and resemble a cloth diaper. He walked out of the kitchen, looked at me unabashed, and calmly walked to get his clothes. Dressed in white cotton pajamas, during dinner he proceeded to drink himself into oblivion--four cans of beer and three bottles of hot sake. It was a vacation day. As I left he was struggling to get some noodles unstuck from his fingers while he tried to get a cigarette out of the pack.

Hisao, her husband, is a taxi driver, and Kazuko works construction. He is 56 and she is 55. Her son, Hisaki, who is 26, works for an agricultural co-op. Hisaki said he would introduce me around the coop and that I could take pictures. Yippee! I think this might be nice for the project. Agricultural co-ops are becoming more and more common. I need to find out more. I think this one might be the same one that Mrs. Yamada was telling me about. The mother of Kazuko's husband also lives in the house. Sumi is very cute, but I can barely understand her. She speaks thick Akita-ben (accent). She suggested that when I spend the night I sleep with her. I am always looking to Kazuko to translate into what I refer to as my elementary-school Japanese. Simi is 72 and takes care of all the family gardens and also helps with planting and harvesting the rice fields.

Friday, August 1, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
I am not sleeping. I am not sure if it is because of all the wonderful things to photograph here or what, but I am damn tired. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. again and stayed in bed until 6:00 a.m. when I decided to get up to go take pictures of the young kids doing radio exercises which they do Monday through Saturday. There were a few snags; the person who was supposed to bring the radio didn't come and the light sucked. I can't remember when the morning light gets good here. I think it is in the fall. Of course all the parents felt like nimrods because here I was camera in hand and no radio. So someone went and got a car and turned on that radio. But by that time the program was half over so what was supposed to be an orderly morning exercise session turned into a bunch of kids flapping their arms around and staring at me with huge toothless grins. I think I got some good sound.

I also had another idea. The guy who is the announcer is so genki and enthusiastic and funny. I am going to record him and try to use this sound in my project. On my way home I saw a couple of the neighborhood kids. I met them the day before when they said hello and squealed with laughter. I was on my bike and turned around to go talk to them. They freaked out and ran behind the house terrified that I might tie them up and make them speak English. I coaxed them out in Japanese, and asked them their names and what they were doing. Then I said come over anytime. Big mistake. I did this last time I was here and soon was running a day-care center. This morning, they had lost their fear and called me over to show me their newest pet, a beetle the size of, what? It was huge and black and had horns. It was the size of my computer mouse. No kidding. I took a picture. They wanted me to hold their cute beetle. No way, that thing looked like it would eat me for breakfast.

"Watashi wa, karitai" I want to go home so much.
Yesterday was the first day of shooting at the nursing home, Kawabe So. WOW. This is HARD CORE. Am I crazy or what? This one is going to push me beyond any limits I thought I had. There are different degrees of healthy people here. One woman I met I fell in love with. Her name is Noto Mitsu. Ms. Noto is 75. Her daughter is in Tokyo. Although she has difficulty moving around, she said to me that she is not as bad as most of the people at Kawabe So(KS). She and I talked with another lady whom I find hilarious because she is either always complaining or singing. Ms. Noto gently would talk to this other woman, explaining why she needed to eat the bad food. This other woman was complaining about how she didn't want to die before Obon (festival for the dead ancestors) because she didn't want her family to worship her just yet. Ms. Noto looked at me with a sigh and a quiet smile and said, "watashi wa karitai." She really wants to go to her home. When she said that I almost lost it. I tried to hide the tears but I am not sure I was successful. Yes, I took pictures of her. But most of all I just wanted to sit and hug her. Most, if not all, of these older people are sleeping in beds for the first time in their lives. To me this seems like it would be a shock. Some have put their beds on the floor; others just sit upright on them like they were sitting on the traditional floor covering, tatami mats. Tatami is a thick mat made from woven grass about 1 inch thick and about 4 feet by 2 feet. It is a very Japanese floor covering and most. Japanese houses have rooms with tatami mats. These rooms are usually reserved for formal occasions but it is also the room where the grandparents and the younger kids sleep together.

There is another woman here, Mrs. Toita. She has a sweet voice, an even sweeter smile, and bright shining brown eyes. She is rather fit and I often see her helping other older residents by wheeling them into meals, helping them eat, or changing clothes. In fact it seems like there are a few older people here who are not incapacitated and do a lot of work besides helping other residents, such as clearing dishes, folding bibs, passing out hot water for tea and handing out hot towels.

Oh god, I hope I can tell this tale with the beautiful endearing pictures that it deserves. I keep trying to find the light. I keep thinking how can I make this light almost kiss these people. Some times I cry and have to go into a small room and take a break. This is only my first day!

There is a mix of old and young staff members. I am a little more partial to the older staff members, maybe because they are the Japan I am used to. There are several people on the staff that I met before or whose kids I taught six years ago. I would like to think that this is VERY KEY for negotiating access. Several have asked me to stay at their house. Another lent me shorts so I could photograph bath time. Another made my lunch, and another gave me a shoulder shiatsu (massage). This is a very typical Japanese way to treat a girl friend, it seems almost like pampering but they would do it for other friends. I have always been impressed with how they help and take care of their friends.

Everyone here understands very well that I want natural photos. And natural I get. Things almost happen too fast. There is one younger girl who is just amazing with the people at KS. Her name is Yamamoto Yoko. She loves the people there and is constantly hugging them. I told her that I think she is good at what she does, and she sincerely thanked me, adding that no one has told her that. She really wants to be my friend and has invited me to her house, which is deep in the mountains. She is also good at cooking Japanese food, which is an added bonus considering I am surviving on corn flakes, yoghurt, and the kindness of strangers and friends for my daily nutrition. (My trip to the supermarket is not pertinent for these academic field notes, and is another story on small-town life Japan.) Yoko gave me a ride home yesterday. She has lots of Kermit the Frog, Star Wars and Toy Story paraphernalia hanging all over in her car. I took a picture. Yoko is 21.

Back to the shooting. When I first arrived I photographed the changing of the underpants and diaper-like things. I tried hard to be sensitive, didn't want the photographs to be voyeuristic. It is HARD not to seem or feel like a voyeur though. What I concentrated on was how the care worker dealt with the person, gently or not. And of course, I am always asking myself in these sensitive situations what is necessary to show to get meaning across. I mean, I don't need a crotch shot of an old man getting cleaned up. That seems totally unnecessary. I met one woman who was so happy to meet me she started bawling loudly. She had never met a foreigner and I was told thought she never would. Yoko, who was standing nearby, started tearing up too. It seems like many of these residents are on a hormonal roller coaster. Tears seem to come at times of frustration and times of happiness. In Japan, crying is acceptable, but any kind of emotional outburst is not really encouraged or accepted based on the social concept that your emotional outburst such as crying or anger will affect others around you. Emotions are thought best kept to one's self. If you show too much emotion it affects someone else; for example, if you are overjoyed about a success, that joy is based on someone's failure.

Here are a few other things I photographed:
Feeding the older ones who can't do it themselves; lunch; watching TV; a lady who had beautiful flowers all over her room; another man was just sitting head in hands depressed; same man buying cola from machine in wheel chair; another old lady helping feed a woman who shared her room; an old man setting a small vase of flowers on his dresser; Yoko hugging her favorite grandma; the grandmother of an old friend of mine who recognized me; a woman who slowly wheeled herself down the hall to come and look out the door; nap time for the folks who only come for the day; the staff hanging out after lunch. Oh, and here is the best one: I photographed bath time for the women. There was a man care worker who was in the ofuro (bath) helping these women wash themselves before they get into the big bath, which is bright green because of the medicine they put in it. He was so good with the women, washing their hair, joking with them, allowing them to wash their private areas, guiding them to the handrail and slowly walking them down into the bright neon green-yellow water. I actually got into the water and photographed from in the water. The women had such joyful looks on their faces. I am going to photograph it again on Monday in the morning when there is different light.

My plan is to go to KS three days a week, and on Tuesday night I am going to spend the night. This is hard work and makes me tired, but I have such a good feeling here.

Notes I took at KS:
1. Relationships: look at how the residents are cared for by staff, look at how they care for each other,
2. Staff morale and tired times,
3. Daily life: bathing, feeding, morning rounds, socializing, cleaning, going home.

Observations from my first day at KS:
The men are less accepting of me than women.
The nurses seem secluded from other staff and have given me a cool reception.
Day Care elderly seem to just sit there all day, no games. One person said that it was because they just came to socialize. Hmm.
Healthier residents help out at the home as well as help the more feeble residents.
Yoshinori Kon, the male care worker, is good with the older women.

Questions: How do I approach photographing a place such as a birth center, or a nursing home? What kinds of things do I include? What sorts of questions should I be thinking about? I feel like I can't focus on one person all the time because they get embarrassed. I suppose I could try but this place seems too interesting to focus on one person.

Saturday and Sunday, August 2-3, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Wakamono no Kai Campu (Camping with the young things)
DemoWatashi, motto motto nomitahai (But I want to drink much much more)

Oh my god, Japan is in trouble. I just got back from camping with Kawabe's Young people's club. I thought it might be interesting to add a different dimension to the project. I didn't realize when I was here before that this was the group I hung out with, different people, same club. We would fix food, drink, take walks in the dark and have fun. But these younger people of Japan are different than my friends before and different than the older people. First of all they do nothing but wait to be served by the older ones, and don't help clean up or pack or anything. I took a photo of my friend, Masato, packing the entire camp while two groups of girls and boys sit and laugh and talk. This made me angry to watch.

It all started when we arrived at a campground that was wall-to-wall tents. I was hanging out drinking a beer with some of the younger guys and the first thing they do for recreation is take out a pellet gun and start shooting at a can on a log. Mind you we are surrounded by tents and children are running everywhere. I took pictures though, thinking it might get gory. In fact, one of the guys kept missing and the pellets flew dangerously close to my head. Lovely. "How do you say I have a pellet lodged in my head, can you please remove it" in Japanese?

After we set up the camp and while we were waiting for everyone to show up, Masato (the one with the hairdo like Nancy) and I went swimming to get some kind of shell fish to roast on the fire. Masa