Life In Japan: School Lunch | John Rachel

As an American, when I hear a reference to ‘school lunch’ I think of school lunch programs back in my homeland. School lunch programs are designed to help the poor. Believe it or not, every night more than 13 million children go to bed hungry in what putatively the richest country in the world — the richest nation in history! The euphemism is these kids are “food insecure”. That’s a polite way of saying neglected, victims of grotesque wealth inequality, and systemic racism. School lunch, school breakfast, and after school meals, are an attempt via various government programs at keeping these children alive and minimally healthy.

Here ‘school lunch’ has an entirely different meaning.

Yes, it refers to that time around noon when across the entire country, students from four to twenty-four are sitting down for their mid-day meal.

But here in Tambasasayama, it has another very special connotation. This weekend, in fact, Masumi-san and I had a “school lunch”. It was at a restaurant set up in one of the schools which is no longer functioning as an educational institution.

Japan’s population is in freefall. This attrition is especially significant in communities like where I live. When kids here graduate from high school, it’s either off to university, or to where the “good jobs” are, which from the prevailing perspective of local youth is surely not here. Being a farmer is not glamorous, nor does it offer the opportunity to amass a decent fortune. Or falling short of a decent fortune, getting one of those high-paying corporate positions with Panasonic or Mitsubishi.

The upshot is that our town is shrinking in numbers at a rate faster than even Japan itself. Many of the schools which once served a thriving farm community now sit empty.

Well, they sit empty unless put to other use. The former school where we had our meal not only has a restaurant, but a curios shop, an arts & crafts workshop, and an art museum for showcasing local artists. Where we sat down to have lunch was previously the office area where the school’s teachers had their individual desks, a room where they could think, create teaching plans, grade tests, get away from the noise and chaos of the students.

In the grand scheme of things, the world is over-populated, exceeding the planet’s ability to support the human race living in the splendor of modernity, convenience and luxury. Most environmental experts judge the Earth’s current growth trajectory unsustainable.

In other words: we need fewer people.

Inadvertently, perhaps, Tambasasayama is doing its part to reduce the human imprint. There are very few new couples starting families here. Few babies are being produced. Meaning a number of beautiful old schools will continue to sit idle, collecting cobwebs.

Here’s one. It even has an observatory on top, where elementary students a decade ago would gaze in wonder at the heavens.

Looks like a decent place to store rice. Or soybeans. That dome is a good start on a silo.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]


Life In Japan: School Lunch | John Rachel

Life In Japan: Police Power II

Let’s face it. Crime is universal. Wherever you find human beings, you’ll find individuals in violation of the carefully-crafted laws of the land. Why just this week here in Japan, a lady in Kyoto walked out of a pet store with a cat. Granted, it was not a heist on the scale of the Great Train Robbery. In fact, the lady was convinced the cat was actually her cat, one that had recently run away. A case of mistaken cat identity? Covid-19 derangement syndrome?

But no matter how you look at it, policing is a tough job.

So . . . while police in the U.S. are killing fellow citizens, and especially people of color are being terminated by the law enforcement officers who are supposed to protect them, what are the police here in Japan doing?

The story pictured at the head of this article is a perfect example. Are they stopping waves of armed terrorists? Are they cracking down on drug traffickers and drug addicts who in need of their next fix are snatching purses from helpless old ladies? Are they interdicting elicit trade in contraband which could send the Japanese economy into a death spiral?

Actually, these officers are putting a notification on a bicycle! The owner of this bike — brace yourself — failed to lock it, a clear invitation for a hardened bicycle thief to cart it off and then God only knows. Ride it? Sell it? Ship it to North Korea as a gift to Kim Jong-un? The paper band around the tire is a reminder that it’s a good idea to lock a bike.

Of course, the world is in great turmoil right now. The coronavirus pandemic has everyone on edge. In the U.S. people understandably let off steam by burning down police stations, as a message to authorities that they should do a better job, even though now they don’t have a proper place to organize their police work.

By contrast, here in my charming home town of Tambasasayama, the police embrace a slightly different narrative. Since things that grow can offer both calm and beauty, they now have 40 flowering plants in the lobby of the main police station. Not surprisingly, people like this and some just stop by for no other reason than to enjoy the display of flora. No one has been seen outside the building with a torch and a trunk full of Molotov cocktails.

I guess some cynics would characterize this as police power merging with flower power. Or the cops trying to put an amicable face on the often unpredictable and brutal business of enforcing the law and keeping the peace. Whatever the reason, we have to recognize the harsh realities.

It’s easy for crime to take hold, spread, and run roughshod over a society. It’s important to draw the line, never make excuses or compromise.

Take jaywalking. Everyone knows that jaywalking is a “gateway crime”. Statistically, every person who has murdered, robbed, raped, dealt drugs, pimped, cheated on their taxes, or thrown someone off the top floor of a skyscraper, has jaywalked. In the minds of tough law enforcers, this is proof that jaywalking, if unchecked, leads to truly reprehensible and villainous behavior.

Thus, in the U.S. the police take a rigid stance on jaywalking. If you’re too lazy to walk the extra few steps to find a proper pedestrian crosswalk, it can end badly.

Hmm . . . I’m not sure why I brought this up.

Oh, I remember!

You see, the Japanese don’t jaywalk or cross against a signal. They dutifully seek out an official crosswalk, and even if there is absolutely no traffic in sight for several kilometers, they wait until the walk sign goes on before proceeding. Which is why there’s practically no crime here. No jaywalking. No murder or burglary, kidnapping or gang banging. Or very little. This strict regard for jaywalking law is, of course, reinforced by an abiding respect for the lives and property of others, as I’ve written about elsewhere.

Let me close this by referencing a video of the Japanese police in action here. This was a difficult “traffic management” situation which in my opinion they handled admirably.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]





Life In Japan: Police Power II

Life In Japan: The Telephone Booth

Probably anyone under 25 living in the U.S. will not know what that is in the photo above. Or maybe they saw one in an old movie. You know . . . old . . . like 1987.

It’s a telephone booth. Inside is a pay telephone. A person can put a coin or two in it and make a phone call. If they put a lot of coins in it, they can make a long distance call, maybe say ‘hi’ to their grandmother in Heidelberg or Guadalajara.

The one pictured is in a fairly rural area about five minutes by bicycle from my house. Mind you, I live on the very edge of town, surrounded by bean and rice fields. This road is even further out but has houses on both sides of it, a small cluster of residences, forming one of the several villages which are the “neighborhoods” of Tambasasayama City*. Each village usually has regular meetings, puts on social functions — barbecues, holiday celebrations, bingo parties, etc — gets together to clean up and maintain the grounds and properties of the village. Most have a community center for hosting monthly meetings and various social gatherings. Some, like the one where I live, called Noma Village, have their own Shinto shrine, a valued but mostly symbolic feature — nobody goes there on a regular basis to worship, as they might a church or synagogue in America — visited on certain special holidays, e.g. New Years.

Back to the phone booth. Why is it there?

Well . . . someone just might need to make a call. And maybe their iPhone battery is down. Or they dropped their Samsung in a toilet and it’s not so waterproof after all. It’s there on the off chance someone needs it. Does this seem odd?

Actually, it reflects a typically Japanese level of forethought and consideration. Respect for redundancy. A willingness to leave some things in place — just in case.

Here’s another example: Everywhere you find a school or public building, they have what’s pictured here on the walkways.

What are they? They’re for blind people. Now I’ve been coming and going for 13 years. I’ve been up and down these streets. And I can honestly say that in all that time, I’VE NEVER SEEN A BLIND PERSON in this town. So why do they have these? Well . . . ya never know. A blind person could show up one day. And the city doesn’t want to leave them stumbling around, wandering into the street, getting hit by cars or tractors or rice harvesters.

If the city council decided that there was some reasonable possibility that space aliens could visit our town, I have no doubt they’d designate parking places for their space ships and provide electrical outlets for them to recharge. That’s just the way they think here.

Tambasasayama is far from being a rich town. In fact, some would say it’s a dying town. There are hardly any young adults. Most kids bolt once they graduate from high school, first stop university, next a nice job in the city. Very few return. Not much going on here and unless you want to be a farmer, there aren’t really many jobs.

Yet, it seems they are constantly working on improving things. Paving the roads, installing new or fixing the old curbs. Here’s a bridge they painted a few years ago. I remember this well because I was so astonished at how much care they lavished on this particular bridge, a pedestrian/bicycle bridge which I use almost every day. When the tiniest, nearly invisible signs of rust appeared, they sanded it and put FIVE COATS OF PAINT ON IT! Five! Seven years later and it still looks perfect. It could probably take a direct hit by a MOAB and survive.

We have one street which is rich with tradition, sometimes referred to as ‘merchant street’. It has many traditional shops, vegetable stands, restaurants, art galleries, ceramics stores. It’s charming in every respect but one. The electrical lines. They are now in the process of putting all of the power lines underground. Because most of the buildings have traditional architecture, when they’re done with this, this already charming street will look very much the way it did, say 200 years ago. There’s only one conclusion to be drawn seeing this sort of commitment of time, energy, and public funds to the town’s infrastructure: For the Japanese, aesthetics are an essential part of honoring history and community life.

Politicians in the U.S. are always bloviating about the need to repair the “infrastructure” there, which they all openly admit is crumbling, if not already in shambles. Then there will be another tax cut for the rich or another war or pandemic . . . or [ fill in the blank since any excuse will do ] . . . and nothing ever gets done.

Well, building and maintaining infrastructure to keep Tambasasayama safe and operable is not just a campaign slogan or bumper sticker here. It’s an integral part of daily life. We all do a little. But the government itself does the real heavy lifting.

To put it mildly, I’m awed.

One last note. Proof that the telephone booth at the beginning is not just a fluke, here is a photo I took less than 100 meters (300 feet) away, even closer to my house. Frankly, I had never noticed it before. Yes, it’s yet another phone booth, this one sitting adjacent to a truly funky old bus stop shelter. While you’re waiting for the bus, you can call your grandmother in Heidelberg or Guadalajara. How convenient!

* Note that in May 2020 the town officially changed its name from Sasayama — the name that appears in most of the articles in this series — to Tambasasayama.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]




Life In Japan: The Telephone Booth