Awakenings

This is just a couple of stories from the past few days, so no illustrations; sorry. While visiting the research center where Camille works (Kenya Agricultural Research Institute) during our short 2-day visit to this town (Embu) in late July, I recalled seeing rugby field goal posts. The image stuck in my mind, and I was determined to go see; but I didn't. We moved here in late August and I just couldn't motivate myself to do much outside the house. Working, watching pirated DVDs, cooking with all the great stuff I can buy at the market here, etc. just seemed more important that "socializing" and being active. But when Camille left for the U.S., I started to get very antsy. So I decided to go check out the Kangaru Boys School, right across from KARI, and see if they needed an assistant coach. Turns out they do. First you have figure out the story you're gonna tell to the guard who blocks the entrance. Kenya is even worse than Japan or France or, even the U.S. in that they love paperwork. You could even fake it, as long as it has something printed and a signature, but you need something. Since I didn't have any, I had to talk with him for about 10 minutes. But eventually, he understood, checked my bag (luckily I'd left my firearms and stolen passports at home), and let me go in. I met with a really nice, but long-winded guy named Mr. Njiru who is the official coach. (This is all happening on Wednesday). He invited me to come back at 5 and start being the acting coach since he and another guy who comes every couple of weeks when he has time are both busy. When I arrived, I saw a pretty rag-tag bunch of kids, some sneakers, some bare feet, and maybe one pair of actual soccer cleats. I met the team and got started. Mr. Njiru likes to say inspiring things to the kids like "Look a Ph.D. student has come to support you! You must really appreciate how many people want you to succeed" and with that kind of introduction, I suppose it's hard for high school boys not to be polite. Practice went well, and the kids actually know how to play rugby a bit. So we'll see how it goes. To celebrate, last night the neighbor boy (we live in a compound with 4 houses all occupied by KARI staff ), a 27 year old son of a scientist, and I went to have a few beers in town. Although all my other acquaintances go to the pricey place right across from our house, we went into town... In town, you can drink old sop (I guess it's a bit like Pabst...) for 25 shillings or abou 40 cents U.S. That really hit the spot, and we had a good talk about many things from music to race to whatever else. But when I told him more about my job, he told me something that I didn't expect. This revelation indeed turned out to be both true and super interesting.

Bernard (the neighbor) mentioned that there were Japanese people in Embu. I thought that he was mistaken, but nonetheless the idea stuck in my mind. I asked him about that again, and he admitted that they might be from China. Given the limited role of Japan in Africa in general in comparison to the enormous role of China, I was pretty sure he was wrong about the nationality. This morning, I kept thinking "how can I procrastinate a bit more, just a bit more?," and the answer was "search for something on the internet that you won't be able to find." So I did. But I didn't expect to find out that Bernard was right. After searching (and not finding, which was the point), I stumbled across a few references down in the text of some web pages. I appeared that in Kenya, the Tenri group is quite present. Tenri is the administrative and missionary arm of Tenrikyou Japan's largest "new religion," combining elements of Buddhism, Christianity, and other more "new age" beliefs. I tried a few different numbers (still not finding, but starting to think that I might find), and finally I got one that worked. As soon as the polite voice on the other end said "hello," I knew I was on the line with a Japanese speaker (female) who then passed me to an older, man. In fact, there is a Tenri Clinic and academy here in Embu. Although its only be a few months since I left Tokyo, I could feel the rust squeaking and cracking as I conversed with the guy, but it felt real' good. So in addition to my coaching, beginning next Tuesday, I will be volunteering at the Tenri Clinic (and speaking Japanese with Japanese people). This may turn out to be a research project one day, like "Japanese New Religion in Rural Kenya: A Case Study of Tenrikyou in Embu". But for now I'm just excited to get on board.

A Safari Without Elephants

Where to start... I'm in Kenya. I decided that after a year of being separated from Camille for my research, it's not worth it. So I'm here with her as she does her fieldwork on how farmers and administrators adapt to climate change. We're in Nairobi at the International Livestock Research Institute which feels a bit like Club Med. But I go for walks outside the gates (and the guards that stand in front of them) to hit the local shops up the road. Pictures will be up soon, but I'm busy working the final paragraphs of my 1st dissertation chapter.... priorities, priorities... We spent a couple of days last week in Embu, the village/town where we'll be staying for Camille's research. Pictures are coming, I promise. But I'll just give you some highlights. The bus or matatu that we took on the way back was quite luxurious compared to the one we took to get there. There were 9 seats in this vehicle that is about as big as a large SUV, so conditions were cramped, but you get used to it. The driver speeds along at 80 km/h, passing cars without giving any signal, dodging the on-coming traffic in the opposite direction; terrifying and exhilirating. The multiple speedbumps that mark the road in the small villages that dot the main thoroughfare don't really slow these guys down much. There was an LCD screed mounted behind the driver's seat playing Akon and Ludacris and Missy E as the matatu rode over enormous speedbumps in the roadside village where farmer-merchants sat out their miles of rice to dry in the sun. Kenya is truly a country of beautiful contrasts; the rice huskers and Akon singing Belly Dancer, the wealthy Indian, Black, and White Kenyans in the same mega-malls that are frequented by others who are barefoot and less affluent, the country western music that the Kenyans guests at our hotel in Embu were listening and dancing to out on the English-cut lawn, a country of contrasts. That's all for now. Check out the pics.

Happy Ending to a Research Day

As some of you know, I'm in Kyoto at the moment. I took the cheap train, about a 10hour ride, coming down, meaning that I saw EVERYTHING there is to see between Tokyo and Kyoto. Nayce. Today, I have solved two great Japanese administrative mysteries that relate to my work. 1) when I called to ask about housing, two different telephone-answering secretaries at the archival library where I work, after asking around a bit, explained that there was no such thing at Doshisha. So I'm in a youth hostel. And you thought I was told old for that! Not only were the secretaries wrong, but I would have had a student discount! I found this out today, after 3 days here, when I met with the archival library director/history professor Hara Makoto who was REALLY helpful. He gave me all kinds of information, some books to read, and even started a discussion about the intricacies of the missionary movement in cases where it accompanied formal colonialism. From the same wise mouth came the second solution to an unsolved mystery. 2) I work on Tokyo churches and I need to look at documents from the late 19th and early 20th centuries that pertain to church activities (membership info, construction info, small group activities etc.) The pastor of one Tokyo church, not to be named here, has been extremely kind but unknowledgable. "What documents?" he said. "Well there were some, but they're at Doshisha". (in Kyoto where I am) A younger pastor of the same church knew even less. Here at Doshisha, the super awesome, if at times a bit stiff and boring, librarian who most likely gave me wrong info about housing, but has also given me access to tons of data and helped me to sort through it all, said that the documents on that church had all been sent back to said church. After a week of slight panic, Professor Hara explained the Japanese system, which surprisingly enough is pretty much like the French system as I recall it: In bureaucratic situations, one person always knows the answer to your question and the other ones, who don't know, avoid appearing ignorant or doing too much extra effort by just giving the most simple of responses: "No!". In fact the documents are hidden somewhere at the church and only one person has the key and knowledge of their existence and whereabouts. I now have the ultimate authority to call the keyholder and make him show me those files. If there are any stories about aliens or sunken treasure, I'll let you all know (unless it's something I want to keep).

It's been a good day. The pics that I just put up are of Doshisha University where I am doing my field research this week and where it all started for many of Japanese protestantism's native pastors.

Just next door is the Kyoto imperial palace, literally across the street. On the other side is a big but not so fancy Buddhist temple. So if you ever meander through Kyoto, you'll know exactly where I was. It is a 3 minute walk from the big gate of the imperial palace to the big gate of this buddhist temple (daihon soukoku tera). And the pathway runs right through the southern end of Doshisha. Funny, huh, emperor worship, buddhism, Christianity all one big happy family.

Coming back, with a victorious smile and another bag full of photocopies, I stopped for a burger at Kyoto Station. To my surprise, there were children disguised in school uniforms playing instruments. I rode the 11 floors of magnificent escalators (it is honestly what I think going to Japanese heaven is like: slow, orderly, and clean with fattening food at the top and some really out-of-place music to make your trip a pleasant one) to the theme from Gladiator as interpreted by one of the dozen or so middle school orchestras playing today. The last pic is the view from way up (pics were forbidden, so I went higher and got permission from the bureaucrat on top of the pile:) The kids are pretty small, but you can probably see that they're making song.

A Friendlier Tokyo

Over the past month, Camille has been visiting me here in Tokyo. The pictures that I've just added are from our long weekend vacation on the Izu peninsula. Amazing. In many ways, Camille is more at home in Tokyo than I am, so it was awesome being here with her. Now, I'm moving on to the final elements of the field research (I hope) and making decent progress. Yesterday and this morning were quite exciting and deserve, in my opinion, a spot on the blog. Camille left and I returned to my very solitary existence in Tokyo, or so I thought...

On a rainy rugby pitch during the Tokyo Cup (we're in the semi-finals now!!!) a few weeks ago, I looked across the scrum and noticed a pair of legs that seemed strikingly familiar, and then the same look of constant confusion that confirmed it for me. I was looking at a teammate from Kyushu University's rugby team (in Fukuoka), who was playing for our opponents (the losing team). I hadn't seen/heard from any of those fellas in 8 years, but I knew it was Toyama right away. We decided to have dinner (Nabe; one of the foods that I love the most but oddly enough eat the least of in Japan: it's boiling water and a few kinds of seasoning into which you add, at your own pace, various vegetables and thin slices of meat. there are many varieties of nabe, but yesterday we chose to have a dipping sauce made from pork bones. outsanding. If you're even in Omori, go to Nabezo and you won't regret it) last night in Shinagawa and then moved on to Omori. During our chat, Toyama called almost half of my teammates from Kyushu Univ, said calmly "Nothing much is up. Just sitting here with Garrett drinking in Tokyo" and waited for the person on the line to sound surprised. It was pretty funny, but just sitting in front of Toyama with all his quirks was pretty funny too. The night evolved into a longer night and he took me to a ""Sunaku" or a Hostess Bar. The highlights of the hostess bar include the Mama, a hostess, Toyama and I singing the Let It Be and Imagine. We did so well that I got a free drink! But somehow, just somehow, I suspect that the gift was just a way to make me want to stay longer. So we did. Another highligh: listening to Toyama, now glowing a beautiful bright red, explain to our hostess how "F@#&ing terrible" (heta-kuso) my Japanese was back then. After about 15 minutes of ridicule, he added "But now you're way better. Who'd have thought". Our night ended with an invitation from the Mama to go be part of a 24 hours Run-a-thon (I know, who is she kidding?) to raise money for something tragic (Myanmar or China?). As you can guess from that last part, the Hostess Bar was a far cry from the sexy and glamorous image, mostly perpetuated by non-Japanese, of a place where the male customer is a treated like a pasha in the "champagne room".

With one of the biggest hangovers I've ever had, I work up this morning and went to the National Diet Library to photo copy 19th and 20th century maps of Tokyo. But I couldn't go before I had some ramen in me. So I went to my favorite ramen shop, Hakata Tenjin, where (as the name implies for those of you who know Japan) they make Fukuoka-style ramen (the ton-kotsu or pork-bone based broth is what gives it that savoriness; perhaps you're beginning to see a pattern...) As I politely slurped down my second bowl (which I get for free! I know. A little piece of heaven), I thought "how funny" because this was Toyama's favorite ramen shop in Tokyo too. I also thought how nice it was to have, after spending a year with a lot of socializing and not a lot of talking, friends. Many of you who read this are in that category and I'm glad to be able to put Toyama (and a couple of guys from the team who I'll see down in Kyoto) back in there with you all.

In my haze this morning at Shimbashi, I stumbled onto some sort of firefighter training ritual. Lots of shouting and running in circles and pushing the antique, polished water pump (on 2 big wheels). There were children playing in the park, old men smoking cigarettes and reading, various passers-by feeding the 3 feral cats that live in that little space (Sakurada Park), me, and then this very elaborate event to which no one paid much attention. I was reminded that my favorite maps of Tokyo are the detailed maps from the Edo period (1603-1868) that divide the entire city up into fire districts. But things have changed a bit from those days and among the firemen were a couple of women who were shouting out orders and running the show. With people like that around, I feel pretty safe here in Tokyo.

A Day in Kamakura

As some of you know or will now know, I spent the day at Kamakura with Ashley, my friend from college who has just moved to Japan. It was nice going through all the sites and explaining to the inquiring mind; sort of reminded me why I used to find Japan so fascinating. The pics are up for this trip, and luckily we had excellent whether in early March. Kamakura was the capital of Japan from 1192-1333 and was the first government in which the emperor was "helped" by a Shogun. The city is beautiful and looks out on the sea. The beaches are supposedly very popular. So I sort of think that maybe Minamoto Yoritomo who founded the new capital back then, was just another beach-loving bum, and that he chose Kamakura, really really far from the other 2 capitals before, because he could go swimming and tan. Just my thoughts. Enough on that. Check out the pics.

Escape from Tokyo

I think that I can say that Camille's stay here in Japan was amazing for both of us. Although we had a lot of fun in Tokyo, (particularly because when she was here we did a lot of exploring and fun things that I just don't do when I'm alone), one of the true highlights of our winter vacation was our trip to Takayama. That place is quite special. As you ride the shinkansen and see less and less of Tokyo, it really feels like an escape. The landscape looks uncannily like that of France or Germany, with cute clusters of houses dotting the hills and valleys of the non-urban. Then, the clusters get much bigger and they move closer to the train as we begin to touch the border of Nagoya. From Nagoya, we took a small local train which went much slower and MUCH higher in the mountains. The green-blue rivers that greeted our choo-choo from below as we reached about halfway were probably my favorite site. They prepared us for a place that could not have been farther from Tokyo.
Takayama itself has a real train station and a very West Lafayette-like downtown. But if you walk towards the river, about 15 minutes into the city, the buildings get much smaller and older, the tourists jaunter at a slower pace, and the music (of good old Christmas classics) envelopes entire boulevards. The alley closest (and parallel) to the river also held the entrance to the Sumiyoshi Ryokan where Camille and I stayed for our entire time in Takayama. The photos should speak volumes about the charm and traditional-ness of this guesthouse. I think that we both appreciated the view from our room and the shared ofuro or constant hot-bath downstairs that we visited nightly. On the 3 nights that we ate in our room at the ryokan, we were content and stuffed with traditional Japanese dishes. Luckily we were eating on a kotatsu, a table covered by a blanket (under which an electric heater circulates warm air) which is covered with another table. This meant that we were very warm and seated on the floor, not far from our futons on the floor nearby. On the days that we managed to move away from the kotatsu, we toured an early 16th-century mercant house, the administrative mansion (one of the few left in Japan), a collection of 19th century farmhomes, many local restaurants (including authentic French, Italian, and Mexican), and the fine art museum. We also took a day trip up into the mountains to soak in natural hot springs or onsen and another to Shirakawa-go, an enchanting village whose designation as a UNESCO world heritage site is well-deserved.
It was hard to come back to Tokyo, but that little taste of the Japan's heartland eased our re-urbanization. I had been telling many of my foreign friends that Japan is NOT like Tokyo. But I'd forgotten just how much more impressive and welcoming the true Japan could be. Now that I've remembered, Tokyo seems much more bearable. I may even be beginning to like it here...