Uncertainty ...

So, this weekend I went to visit a friend of mine in Iwakuni. While I was at the train station, I met this old man. He seemed to want to have a conversation with me. However because of the language barrier, little defining if any is left up to the imagination in explaining what the conversation was really about.

I remember it going a little something like this:
Old man, "You're American?"
Me, "Yes."
Old Man, "Army base?"
Me, "No, English teacher."
Old man, "Army base?"
In Iwakuni, there is an American military base, so he kept asking me this to see if I lived on base. Again I replied though, "No." I attempted to say with my poor Japanese skills, "No, I'm an English teacher. I live in Kudamatsu city." He understood English teacher, but I guess he didn't understand, Kudamatsu. I guess I was pronoucing it wrong.

He asked me if I spoke Japanese, I said, "Skoshi dakay." (A little bit)

As he spoke, he kept walking closer and closer to me. I was sitting so, I would just lean more and more to the other side. I didn't want to actually get up and leave my seat, I figured that would be way to rude. So I sat there, with my spine definitely out of line. I was on a trip to the far left that day as he stood on my right.

I thought he was trying to stalk me. Lol. In my mind I kept saying, "You are violating my personal space. You people must not know about the three feet rule." Needless to say, he was waaaaayyy to near me.

Anyways, he went on further to speak more in Japanese. Once he figured I could speak a little, he decided to throw a lot at me. I just looked at him and smiled as he spoke. He pointed somewhere, my eyes would follow. Then he pointed down at his pants, I'd look. When he finished. I said, "I don't know." He laughed and smiled, "Aaah, ok. I don't know too." He paused for a little bit, he looked around. Then he proceeded to speak again. Once more he pointed elsewhere and back at his pants. Again, my eyes would follow. And at the end of his rant again I said, "I don't know."

He laughed again. He realized that the language barrier was just too great. At this point my sullied mind begin to think, "This old man is dirty."

He kindly tapped me on my shoulder and thanked me for my time. Then a train conductor stepped off one of the trains and the old man caught his attention. "Sumimasen," he said. Which means, "excuse me." He said something about "ere-baytah," an elevator. I looked around and said to myself this station doesn't have an elevator here. (I'd been to this station a number of times before. So I'm familiar with it's surroundings. Apparently though, the old man had not been to this station before) He then went on to repeat the same words to the conductor he'd said earlier to me. "Hai," responded the conductor. Which means, "yes."

The conductor got on a walkie talkie and translated the message to the train office. Moments later a train station official walked down the stairs and called after the old man. "Hai, hai." Said the old man, and again he pointed in the same direction he tried to show me and the conductor earlier. The official nodded and walked further down the stairs to grab a suitcase.

The old man said, "Arigato Gozimashta." (Thank You Very Much)

And one last time he turned back to me, he said "Nihon de blah, blah, blah." Again he pointed at his pants. He tried his best to translate to me, although his English is rough, like my Japanese, I understood what he had been trying to tell me the whole time. "Japanese kindness," He said. As he pointed and began patting his pants, He said, "Pain. I hurt."

At this moment, I began to feel really bad. Here I am thinking, with the mindset that all old men, who approach you and point to their pants are dirty. When all he had been asking me to do, is to help him carry his bag upstairs. He hurt his knee and could not both walk up stairs and carry his suitcase.

As he walked off and limped up the steep set of stairs one at a time, it hit me: The uncertainty of communicating in all ways to those who do not speak one's native tongue is evident in any country. But one thing we all want as humans is a little help from time to time. Even if the language barrier is too great.

As he and the official walked up the stairs the old man kept repeating, "Arigato Gozimashta, arigato gozimashta."

I looked at him and said quietly to myself, "I'm sorry, but I'm glad you have your help now." Next time, I will be certain. Thus, my quest to master the Japanese language continues.

Before the old gentleman disappeared from my sight completely he turned back to me one last time to say, "Gambattay kuda-sigh." Roughly translated it means "Good Luck."

Thank You and Be Blessed Old Man. Wherever you are.

Peace.



© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.