Week Four
Monday, August 4, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Tskaretah (tired)
Tired. Today was another long day at Kawabe So, the nursing home. Mrs Nakamura died last night and was taken home. The rumor around here is that her ghost is going to come back Tuesday night, the night I chose to sleep over. Coincidence or Japanese joke? I don't know. But I am less scared of Mrs. Nakamura than of the poltergeist that was tormenting me in Kansas City. They all had a smile when they said this, but that doesn't mean much. One of the men who works there asked me if I had any pictures of her. I am not sure because I didn't know her. But I probably did because she was in room 5 with Mrs. Noto.
I never feel like I am taking pictures that are good enough, and I continually see pictures that I missed, but I am used to that feeling by now. My major achievement today was getting to know the residents better. I think their trust of me just tripled today. I also went in and visited a few residents who I hadn't previously spoken with because they are bedridden or seem in their own world. I guess I was kind of scared or felt awkward, but they are all so grateful to have a visitor. I wave to everyone if they are looking at me as I pass. Many have started to wave back if they can or if they didn't already. I have a few favorites. One woman who is totally deaf just cracks up laughing when I come to her. I always open my arms like I am going to hug her and she says laughing "are you still here?" Then when it is time to leave, she asks me four or five times what time I am going to leave. She is about 3'9" with big glasses, fake teeth and a laugh that is more like the waves at the beach on a windy day. It kind of takes over.
I spent a lot of time talking with as many of the residents as I can. Or for those who can't talk, I sit and stroke their hair, and do all the talking, oh and of course I take photos. I spent my morning with the group that comes for the day. I went to pick them up in the bus. The older women are so cute. There is a big socializing network. They all come to chat, sip tea. I got sound of the hum of the obaachans (that's what old ladies are called, baah for short) talking and drinking tea. There are always a few totally genki (energetic in mind, body, and spirit) old women who just love to talk. I could sit and listen to them gossip for hours. Of course if I am around, they all want to talk to me or about me. But gradually they bore of that as more interesting topics come up like someone else who is sick, or just got married, or died. Of course they use old vocabulary words that even most normal Japanese can't understand but they are so animated. I mentioned before Japanese women outlive Japanese men by about 10 years I think. I need to check on that.
I photographed the bedridden residents getting baths today. The care workers wash them down on a special bed and then there is this machine that looks like a huge bathtub that they slide the bed on. The machine lifts a huge tub of hot water up submerging the resident. This has been the biggest challenge so far. One of the men who works at the home didn't want me to photograph this. I can understand his resistance, it definitely is sensitive situation and it is hard not to feel like I am exploiting these people in some way. Believe me I have wrestled with this. But I am here to tell a story with pictures of this place. And the love that the care workers have on their faces as they bathe the residents who can't do it themselves, or the expressions of joy, if any, when they are submerged in the water is what I am photographing. This is an important part of the week. I just try to think about how can I make this beautiful. It is hard. The women who were washing the people said it would be no problem but I made sure we asked each person if it was OK. Two said no, but about 15 said OK. One guy even gave me the peace sign and said thank you. The care workers were surprised because he has never said this before.
Access is good and keeps getting better. I am also much more comfortable getting real close. In fact, I rarely use the long lens unless I want to compact the space like this wall that has a bunch of wheel chairs lined up and before meal time all the hall becomes a traffic jam of wheel chairs and walkers as residents slowly make their way to the meal hall. The residents are delighted to have me around and have stopped staring at the camera. I think I am a nice break in their routine.
Tuesday day, Tuesday night, Wednesday, August 5-6, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Shhhh, naisho. (Shh it is a secret)
More inroads. This time with the staff as I learned how to say menstruate in Japanese. They were thrilled to talk openly about this. And got a huge laugh as I at first referred to it as the red thing that comes for women once a month.
Throughout the day I began talking to more and more people. And today I finally feel like I can move freely among the residents and staff. One care worker insists that I take a nap everyday. She thinks I am always using my ki and that I need a rest. I photographed the bath time for the permanent residents that are fairly independent. I felt strongly about making sure it was OK. I do not want to take photographs of people who don't want to be photographed. It turns out I was more shy than they were. I was asking Mrs. Noto about it after words and she said that old women don't really care who is looking at them naked, saying they have lived their life and now they don't worry about much. The final resident to take a bath was Mr. Sato. I often see Mr. Sato sitting up hunched over in his bed head down and resting in his right hand (his left hand is immobile), with the covers pulled up around him. Or I see him slowly pulling himself along the rail in a wheelchair with his right hand inching towards the Coca Cola machine where he buys his three bottles of Real Gold, an energy drink loaded with vitamin C and caffeine. He never says a word, but when I go in and say good morning he raises his head and nods. And recently he has started to wave back to me or grab my hand. He has nodded yes to photographs. Well Mr. Sato once submerged in the ofuro (bath) started singing a beautiful old Japanese song from years ago. All of the care workers stopped what they were doing and gathered to listen. I, of course, grabbed the recorder because he kept going. With the water dripping in the background in this steamy room and his haunting song telling of a disappearing time, I started photographing(and crying). (I have enclosed the clip in this email for you to listen to, it is a real audio file.)
Dinner came and went without incident. There are two residents who go at each other, one always wants to shut the window and the other always wants it open. And so the debate continues. At 6:00 p.m., the day staff leaves and goes home. It was hectic this day because two women residents went to the hospital. Reason "guwai ga warui" which basically means their condition is bad. This is the generic and elusive Japanese word for sick. I have heard it hundreds of times. One care worker, Noriko, told me that the hospital no longer accepts residents for overnight stays, there was some kind of change in the health care and now they have to leave the same day. She said that it has made it increasingly hard on the care workers.
Later that night, when it was dark I started making the rounds. I go from room to room saying hello and seeing what the residents are up to. They all have their own rituals and customs, how they fold their blankets, how they socialize, how they sleep, patterns of life that create some form of order in their final home. I am looking for nice light still and sometimes it is from a TV set that illuminates the room.
I stumbled upon Mrs. Kamada. She has sort of adopted me too. I have about 6 Japanese grandmothers who are all looking out for me and a few of them think that I came back to Japan to find a husband. I can't figure out how to say I don't date guys who have waists the size of my thigh. Illuminated only by the hall light, Mrs. Kamada ushered me over with the Japanese hand signal that at first looks like they are trying to shoo a fly away. She put her finger to her lips and said "shh naisho"(shh secret). Next thing I know she is pulling out a tray of delicious Japanese rice cakes that are filled with a sweet bean paste. Absolutely my favorite Japanese dessert. She offered me one and said that they are not allowed to have these. I remember reading about this in an anthropology book on Japan. In the nursing home that was being studied, there is an underground culture that resembles the outside, for example when you have guests you serve them tea and cakes. She insisted I have another. I said that I knew these were so special. She said tomorrow they won't be as good. How she got it I have no idea because I didn't see anyone come and visit her. Mystery.
I spent Tuesday night at Kawabe So. There was no ghost, but even had there been one I wouldn't have noticed because I was tired. I shared the room with a college girl who is volunteering. She was up all night because she was scared. Iwaya, the director, actually came and found me at 10:00 p.m. and said that I should go to bed and keep the college girl company because she was scared. I found this slightly annoying because I was contemplating staying up a little later. But all the residents had gone to bed. What was even more annoying was that instead of me going directly to the room to protect the small college student from any threatening ghosts, Mr. Iwaya wanted to talk. For an hour we sat there and talked.
At 4:30 a.m., I woke up to photograph and observe early morning life at Kawabe So. This was a good move. In the summer, many of the residents get up at 4 or 5 and are active for a few hours before going back to sleep. Mr. Yamakami, a man who has very yellow skin, a very bald head, and no teeth was sitting up writing complex kanji in a diary, the light was beautiful. He had pages and pages of thoughts. One of the care workers, Asami, said that she didn't understand much of what he wrote because it was old language. Usually I see him lying down sleeping or sitting on his mattress that he has placed neatly on two tatami mats. He has a tube that comes out of his pajamas and goes into a bag. I also tried to photograph the small women residents who pull back the curtains in their room and welcome the day.
Later that morning I went to visit Mrs. Kamada. There is are four women in her room. One of them, Mrs. Ogata who is totally blind and totally jolly, has been there for 13 years. She seems to be one of the main socialites of the place. I walk in and always say hello and she always says "what? who is that?" in thick Akita accent. She and Mrs. Kamada pulled up a wheel chair and tied a nice pillow onto the edges and offered me a seat. Then Mrs. Ogata leaned over me from behind and wrapped her arms around me so that her face was resting on my shoulder. Every time she spoke, her breath tickled me. She got a kick out of that and tickled me some more. But then she sat for ten minutes like that talking. I nearly melted. Japanese people rarely touch others and I have only recently seen someone hug another person. Even mothers who have kids sitting on their laps don't really put their arms around their kids. Mrs. Ogata eventually went and sat down on the bed opposite Mrs. Kamada but next to me. As I said she is blind. Mrs. Kamada kept saying white thing, white thing. Mrs. Ogata grunted and proceeded to flip one of her eyelids around until a white membrane that had shifted into place was invisible. Then she asked is it gone. I almost threw up.
One thing I must mention about Kawabe So in the wake of all these sweet experiences. The smell, the smell is some times overbearing. It is a combination of urine, musty clothes, institution food, and detergent. It gets in your clothes, and follows you home. Also I am over come by the waiting here, the sitting, the laying, the sleeping, the waiting. For many that is all they do all day and part of the night, wait.
3 P.M.
Went with the Taiko team to Kanto Festival. This is THE festival for Akita prefecture. The Taiko team is full of young people from 18- 30 years old. I have been having trouble with my eyes recently. They have been burning and are very sensitive to light. I think I might be allergic to my contact solutions or they may just be tired but whatever the case it made photographing a challenge. I photographed everyone getting ready big festival with many drum teams and many
analysis. I think people are getting used to having me around now, but it was awkward at first.
I got right in the midst of all of them changing and helping each other put on brightly colored hanten which are short kimonos that are their performance costumes. I also rode on the truck with all the drums to the performance spot. As they waved to the crowd and practiced the playing the drums, I photographed and recorded sound.
Shooting the performance wasn't that great. They were in the middle of a wide street with tons of wires above and crowds on either side. The light was gone, but it wasn't dark yet. Basically gross. I shot the faces of the really intense men playing. And I shot the hands drumming. I tried to get real low to just get the silhouette of the sticks and arms against the sky using a little fill but don't think it was successful. No big deal there will be other performances.
After the festival, Takahashi introduced me to a woman called Ms. Watanabe. Evidently she volunteered to have me come and stay in her home. She is a very typical Japanese woman. She is very demur and never really lets on what she wants to do. She made me nervous but I tried to talk openly. She was earnestly listening to everything I said which made me even more nervous. She said she lives with seven family members and her father is in construction. She lives at home as so many of young Japanese do. Many live at home until they are married.
I am glad that I have my 35 mm lens. It seems to be the lens that I use the most. I am working mainly with one body so far. I thought that my F3 was broken but I processed a roll of film and it seems like there is no problem. All of the light in Japan is fluorescent, but I am going to filter out the green on the computer. I haven't found a good place to process my film yet. All around me are these little Mom and Pop places that are dusty and dirty. I handed three rolls of film to a guy the other day and his hands were filthy. I think he is a mechanic or a farmer. I am trying to meet someone from the paper in Akita City who may be able to tell me of a lab, or better yet, let me use their processor. This needs to be solved right away because in Japan it is expected that you give pictures to whoever you photograph. Although I try to never promise prints, I feel like I need to produce something soon so they can see some of my work. I try to remember to bring clips and slides to show people what I have done.
Thursday, August 7, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Lesson Learned
Today is an important day in the Obon (festival welcoming dead ancestors back) festival time. It is when families go to their family grave stone and clean it and make offering for the ancestors who are returning home for Obon. I awoke at 4:30 a.m. so I could go to some place that looks like a grave yard and photograph people cleaning the grave stones and offering flowers, bringing incense and lighting candles. I wanted to photograph one family throughout Obon and thought I had found someone, but that fell through the night before. And with Kanto and everything at the nursing home, I was busy and couldn't scramble fast enough. So I set out for the grave yard tired and in a bad mood. I arrived and all around me were men and women silently cleaning their family graves. The sun hadn't come up yet but already there was smoke from burning incense left by relatives who had already come and gone. It took me a few minute to get into stride and I finally latched on to an old woman and man who were cleaning. What I was looking for was generations working together. Or a younger person cleaning. Way up on the top of the grave yard, I saw a boy in a bright red, white and blue sweat suit. He told me in English (and its on tape) that he and his grandfather always used to come here every year but his grandfather died this year so this year it is just him. I also photographed Takahashi and his two boys cleaning their family's grave stones. I think I gathered some good sound.
As I was coming down the mountain, I met an older women and two children who were wearing straw hats. The older woman was showing them what to do. She asked me what I was doing for breakfast. Of course breakfast wasn't really on my mind. She invited me to their house to eat sekihan, a celebratory red rice. Sekihan is only served during special occasions and is red because of the red beans that are added. At her house was a grandmother who was cute and curious. And as I am just about to take a bite of sekihan, out walks Itoh, one of the workers from Kawabe So. This is his house and it was his mother invited me. He was just as surprised as me. They told me all about Obon and said next week is Ohakamaeri when the entire family goes to the grave. Evidently the cemetery is alive with hundreds of people in the early evening as people come to send the ancestors back to the other world. I thought this would be great to photograph her family gathering. So I asked. In Japan there is a way to get something you need. It is a complex but simple combination of timing, sentence structure, and time spent getting to know people and endorsements from people who know you. Mr. Itoh doesn't like to be photographed. Well Mrs. Itoh is having a lot of family over that day and doesn't want me there. So that is out.
Headed back to the grave yard. An entire family was there cleaning but they were leaving as I was arriving. There was one woman, Mrs. Shindo, in a special area enclosed with a fence. She had a wide brimmed straw hat to keep the sun off her face. She was neatly arranging flowers and lighting incense. I photographed her and talked to her for a while. She carried her flowers (and she only used traditional flowers not like others, she made a point of saying) wrapped in a contraption that was made of small pieces of bamboo. She didn't even know what it was called but said that this was very old. She invited me back to her house for tea. I got some nice stuff of her saying her thanks to the ancestors.
At Mrs. Shindo's house, I met her husband who is 77 and still farms. He was in taking a break. They had a beautiful alter set up for their ancestors. It was huge. She told me all about what it was. I understood about 50 percent. My Japanese is manageable but I am challenged when it comes to complex stuff. A priest is coming to their house on the night of the 12th to do a traditional blessing. She said I could come and photograph. I want to but I am trying to figure out where all this is going, so I haven't made up my mind if I want to include that or not. I really want to photograph several generations doing these rituals. I plan on spending some time trying to locate one this weekend. I am finding that I am not totally clear about all the events that are happening around this time. I have done a bunch of reading but it does not reveal every thing.
PM
Shot Kanto Festival and Taiko again. Again it wasn't that great.
Friday, August 8, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Small Town Japan
Woke up this morning with a bit of a head ache. At 10:30 last night Asami and Yoko, two care workers from Kawabe So, came by and said asked if I wanted to go to a party with them, an enkai for people from work. As we neared the house I thought, hmm this is in the same neighborhood as Miyuki's house. Miyuki is an old student of mine. She had a lot of trouble during junior high because of bullies, and lack of motivation. She would blow off class, or not study and sleep all day, kind of like a depression. I always thought she was smart. She spoke English pretty well and most of it came from listening to John Lennon songs. We used to go for walks, or if I would notice Miyuki not in school I would stop by or call to see what was up. Her mother loved me. Well Miyuki invited me to a party at her house for last night which I declined because I was going to Kanto and I didn't think I could make it. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, her mother works at Kawabe So in the kitchen. The party that I went to was at her house. Small town. Concentric circles are being traced and retraced around me here. One face in one setting belongs to another face in another setting.
I walked in the door and complete mayhem broke loose. People were flying around getting me beer and handing me food. It was crazy. Atsuko another woman who works at Kawabe So, who was also in my adult English class six years ago was drunk and speaking near fluent English. Atsuko has a plump face which is always in a beautiful smile with bright brown dancing eyes. I was floored by her English. She is always kind of shy and asks me questions in Japanese at Kawabe So. I told her no more Japanese. I need her help me with translating.
This morning I went to take pictures of Mrs. Oishi teaching the kids the Macarena. The words to the Macarena are very suggestive (as my mother would say). It was kind of weird to see six elementary students waving pom poms and fans to words like "if you're good, I'll take you home with me." Mrs. Oishi asked me to translate which I did to her. She in turn translated it into "he loves me, but we are friends." And all the elementary students howled "EEya EEya dah" which means yuck or gross. I keep looking for the mixture of the ages pictures. As well as fun detail shots.
Went to the town government office today to see if I could get any information on upcoming events and any other holidays or festivals that may be coming up.
P.M.
Taiko practice. Takahashi wants me to play in an upcoming festival because all of the other foreigners are gone for the summer. Tonight I practiced with them
analysis
I have been in Japan two weeks now. I feel like I have my feet on the ground and it is time to think more in depth about how all these pictures are going to fit together, National Geographic or a series of smaller stories. There is a lot of overlap and I want to play on that in some way because that is really telling about Japanese culture, and small town life in general. But I also want to keep in mind a larger theme of the generations. Today I am going to rest my eyes and catch up on my work as I think about how these photos can all fit together. The big challenge is that I have no one to talk to about this project with. I don't quite feel rudderless, but it would be nice to be able to bounce ideas off of someone and be pointed in a direction should I head off course. But I guess I knew that when I started planning this entire thing.
The town office was a big help today as far as names of people who might be worth contacting and exact dates of certain activities around the holiday including preparation. I still haven't found any where to process my film, the newspaper in the big city near here has never had anyone ask to use their machine and in Japan no precedent, without knowing a person at the institution, means no way.
Saturday, August 7, 1997 - Kawabe, Japan
Kokyu Funaki, an old friend of mine, surprised me and came over this morning. About five years ago, he flew to San Francisco to ask me to marry him while we were lying under the stars at Yosemite. There we were, faces flushed from red wine, and he said the word "Oyomesan" which means bride. Of course stupid me, I couldn't remember what it meant. I got the part about how he and Takahashi thought that Kokyu should come over to America and that they were worried about me here. And I got the part about Kokyu wanted me to return with him, but I couldn't figure out what "oyomesan" meant. About 10 minutes later after I had said the he and I have different lifestyles. I realized the magnitude of his visit. Of course at that time I wasn't able to do the marriage thing, especially with some one who I hadn't even held hands with. Well we are still good friends. Now he is married and his wife is expecting a baby. This morning he explained to me the upcoming Obon festivities. The upcoming week is going to be rich with content about traditional rituals.
Another old friend, Mrs. Itoh came over. She is a bit of a radical, but she knows English and offered to help me with any research that I may need. Thank you. She started crying because she couldn't believe that I called her. She kept asking me on the phone who are you? Are you really Jennifer from six years ago. She insists that I come and spend the night at her house, this seems to be very Japanese too. Everyone wants me to come spend the night.
analysis
Listened to all the sound that I have recorded so far, making notes in a notebook so I can find things when I return. I can definitely hear my progress. Good stuff at the nursing home, and of the cleaning of the graves. Taiko is also real nice. I think I am going to have much to work with as far as sound goes.
Picked up some test rolls of film today. I hate color negative film, it flattens everything. I wish I had gotten chrome. Hindsight is 20/20, I guess. Needless to say I was a bit disappointed but these rolls were from my first day here. At least my camera is working. This processing is going to cost me a fortune, for three rolls, I spent 30 dollars. But I feel like I need to see what I have done so far so that I can figure out what is working and what is not. The weather has been grim here, dark and cloudy, rainy or with flat light.
Next week
Obon Ohakamaeri- go to the grave stones and welcome back the ancestors
Town festival
Deal with processing
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