A Fish Out of Water

Gaijin

I thought I had more time to figure this all out. My son is barely one year and five months old, and at this age he and his peers are a long way from noticing that some people look different. Surely I have a year or two to decide what labels I'll use, and allow others to use, and how to react when people use the wrong ones.

It's not that I haven't given it any thought- I've given it plenty. But I hadn't really come to a conclusion yet, and it turns out that I've been focusing on the wrong problem: whether or not to use the term "hafu". It is a troublesome term, no doubt, but it's not the term that ignorant Japanese people use when they find the need to point at my child and call him names. Shuma, with his dirty blond hair, pale skin and caucasian features, doesn't really look like a "hafu", so he gets called "gaijin".

Friday wasn't the first time, but the other times involved adults who didn't really mean it in a bad way. They were calling to their wife to come look at the cute foreign kid, or explaining to their child that Shuma didn't answer them because foreigners can't speak Japanese. Um, no- he didn't answer because he was a BABY, moron mom, and babies can't talk, but never mind, and never mind that my son is not an exhibit in a zoo to be gawked at, moron husband. And neither of you need to mind that Shuma is not in fact a foreigner, because I don't have time to waste on idiots like you. You're all grown up and a lecture from me won't change the fact that you're a twat.

But when another kid calls my son "gaijin" it's another story, a story that ended with me in tears. I probably need to develop a thinner skin (how is it that I get more sensitive the longer I live in Japan? And isn't motherhood supposed to make me stronger?), but in the meantime I have some thinking to do. Here is what happened, if you have a few moments please read on and let me know what you think.

Friday was our first time out of the house since Monday (I had the flu), and as luck would have it the weather was gorgeous: warm, sunny, and full of the promise of spring. A perfect day to play at the park, and this was actually our second attempt, as earlier in the day he'd fallen asleep on the way. So by the time we finally got to the playground it was late afternoon and the usual parents and toddlers weren't there. Instead there was a group I'd never seen before: about a dozen kids, mostly elementary school age, and seven or eight moms, who were apparently all together. A group of the kids was sitting on and around the slide while two moms watched, which instantly pissed me off because the slide is Shuma's favourite piece of equipment and they were hogging it without even using it. I hate playground equipment hoggers!

The moms also failed to greet me, which would have been easily rectified with a cheerful "Konnichiwa!" from me, but seeing as they were slide hoggers I didn't bother. A mistake. The pre-emptive greeting is a powerful thing in Japan, and might have helped later on. Anyway, Shuma and I kicked a ball around for a while, but he really liked watching the other kids (like a lot of toddlers he is fascinated by older children) and eventually he lost interest in the ball and walked over to the slide to gawk at them.

That's when one of the boys, maybe seven years old, pointed at us and said "Gaijin da!" (A foreigner!) and when the other kids failed to show interest (credit to them) he tapped his buddy and repeated "Ne ne, gaijin iru yo!" (Hey, there's a foreigner!). I didn't react right away because I was kind of trying to figure out if he meant me or Shuma, or how he meant it. Because you know how sometimes kids just point out mundane stuff without meaning anything, like they'll see a dog and go "look, it's a dog!", then point to the sky and say "look, an airplane!"? I've been called "gaijin" by kids that way plenty of times, and it's not a big deal. That's just how kids are. But the way he said it, and the look on his face, made it obvious he wasn't just pointing out a curiosity. He meant it in a bad way.

I also hesitated because I was waiting to see what the moms nearby would do. I wasn't sure if either of them was his mom, but I still kind of expected them to say something. But no, nothing, so after the second comment I picked up Shuma, walked over to the slide with a big friendly smile and started to say "This boy's not a foreigner, he's Japanese!". Which is a woefully inadequate response because it fails to do deal with a few important things, but with my limited Japanese I figured was the best I could do. I hoped it would at least get him talking to us and maybe he'd say "But he looks like a gaijin" and I could tell the kid that Shuma was born in Japan, lives in Japan, has a Japanese Dad, a Japanese name, speaks Japanese (well, one word), and therefore he's Japanese. And maybe the kid would say, "Huh, I guess he IS Japanese" and accept it in the way that kids are able to quickly process mind-blowing new information. Or maybe he wouldn't get it at all, but at least he would have seen that we are human beings with real feelings and stuff, and the other kids would see how nice we are and what an asshole the other kid is, and the moms would feel guilty for not saying anything and also be impressed with my quiet dignity and stellar Japanese skills and next time I saw them at the park they'd greet me and make their kids get off the slide and play with Shuma.

But that's not what happened, because as soon as I opened my mouth one of the other kids poured a bucket of water down the slide, soaking the kids in its path and making a big mess, and they all started laughing and shouting and the moms started scolding and nobody heard me. The moms' scolding technique was the typical useless Japanese way that involves gently saying "Dame" (No) and "Yamete" (Stop it) a lot, so of course all of the kids ignored them, which made them fuss more, which made one of the boys yell "Baka!" (literally "idiot" but kind of an all-purpose slur that children definitely shouldn't yell at adults) back at the moms. What a kerfuffle.

So Shuma and I went off to play in the sandpit, as I'd missed the chance to say something and the slide was now completely unusable. I did notice the remaining moms going over to the slide to respond to the commotion, and got to see that the boy who'd called us "gaijin" had a vile woman for a mother, which somehow didn't console me. He also called her "baka" and told her to shut up when she yelled at him (no ineffective Japanese style fussing for her), so she dragged him off the slide and slapped his head several times while continuing the yelling. It's not actually all that rare to see parents hit their kids like that here, but it's certainly not the norm and I couldn't help thinking that if they were perfectly comfortable going through this routine in public, it must be at least as bad inside their home.

So the commotion calmed down and Shuma and continued playing, until out of nowhere we heard "gaijin" shouted again. I hadn't been paying attention so missed the context, but there the boy was pointing at us again. Again the adults ignored him, including his mother who was nearby this time. And that did it. Not believing that my son and I couldn't be left in peace in our park, and frustrated that I didn't have the language skills or opportunity to say anything, I wiped away the tears that were starting and carried Shuma to his tricycle. Which unfortunately was parked in such a way that I had to pass the group of awful moms and kids. The little brat was still staring at us so I said "Mou, 'gaijin da' wo yamete yo!" (Stop calling us 'gaijin'!), which is probably completely incorrect (both in grammar and politeness level) but I just had to say something. So of course all of the moms turn around and stare, and now I'm the crazy gaijin who runs around crying and yelling at kids.

So that's what happened. It's not so awful in retrospect, and I know there are kids and their parents who have experienced much, much worse. But I do think that my son has the right to play at our local park without being harassed, and am utterly frustrated by the fact that I am unable to defend him. So all I can do is raise him right, and one day he will proud of who he is and able to deal with mean people all by himself.

Now, what do I find so objectionable about the word "gaijin"? Well, the word itself doesn't bother me terribly, especially when directed at me. I don't like it much and would prefer to be called the proper "gaikokujin", or better yet, to not be singled out for my foreignness at all, but I've never really gotten worked up about it. It's nothing compared to the racial slurs that are heard in my country, and usually doesn't have any malice behind it (in my decade and a half in Japan I've only once been called gaijin- to my face, anyway- in a bad way). Actually many Japanese people don't really understand the difference between "gaijin" and "gaikokujin", and the subject deserves a post of its own. I don't have the time and space to discuss it, but Wikipedia has a basic explanation if you're curious.

But beyond the meaning of the word itself, my main objections are that it is simply an inaccurate description of my son, and it's just mean to taunt people who are different. Shuma is Japanese, and just because he has one non-Japanese parent doesn't make him a gaijin. And yes, he does look different, but it's not nice to point it out. How would the boy feel if I pointed at him and said "Look, an ugly boy!". Or called his mom a bitch or laughed at his dad for being bald? Not very nice, but kids don't know that unless they've been taught. Empathy and manners don't come naturally, and while I don't expect children to know why "gaijin" is a bad word, I do expect parents to teach them why it's not nice to call names.

Overalls

This entire outfit comes from Shuma's gramma. OK, at least half of his clothes come from gramma, and I'm really grateful because I really prefer Canadian clothes for this age. Not that Japan doesn't have great baby clothes, but Shuma is more of a toddler and toddler clothes here are exactly like older kid's clothes: boring (unless you're talking about girl toddlers, in which case there is no shortage of frilly pink princess wear).

Anyway, I especially like the overalls. These are his first Oshkosh B'Gosh overalls, and after trying several other types I can see why they're so popular. I'm not into brand names and designer labels, but these are very well made, good fit, and they stay on. If gramma doesn't send more I will just have to buy a bunch on my next visit. (They have Oshkosh here too but believe it or not they don't have overalls for baby boys, at least not at the ones I've been to. Girl overalls, with a skirt instead of pants? Tonnes. Those are big here for some reason.) But enough about overalls, what I really want to show you is this:

Look at that hair. Still no haircut, and it may just never happen because look at that hair! Yes, he does get mistaken for a girl occasionally, but it doesn't seem to offend him. Besides, if I need to cut his hair in a particular way to signal to the world that he's a boy then there's something wrong. I mean, he's wearing overalls!

New Year round up

Yes, it's the middle of February, so it seems a little late to be blogging about our new year's holidays, but they tend to drag it out here (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it). So I already shared our nengajo (new year postcard) but I thought I'd show a few of the outtakes. He's holding the ball in some pictures partly as a distraction and partly to represent that flaming ball or pearl that Chinese and Japanese dragons are often depicted holding (don't ask me what it actually means).

This year we were only in Osaka for a few days and we stayed at a hotel. My mother-in-law broke her wrist in December and was unable to cook, clean or drive so we just visited during the day and helped out in the kitchen as well as we could. My sister-in-law took charge and did most of the work, but I was able to learn how to cook some of the osechi ryouri (the traditional new year's dishes) that my mother-in-law usually makes. No pictures as we were rather busy, but there are years of osechi pics in the archives (here is last year, for example). Here is a picture of the whole family taken at our hotel after a dinner out.

We had lunch at Haneda airport on our way back, at one of the small restaurants in Terminal 2's 3rd floor that share common seating overlooking the departures lobby. We've always avoided this little alley despite some interesting looking restaurants because it's kind of like a food court and the seating looks crowded and uncomfortable, but we noticed some nice big chairs in front of a Sri Lankan place called Court Lounge. The food was good and not outrageously overpriced, and upon sitting down we noticed that every chair is different and we'd definitely snagged the best ones- Shuma loved swiveling around his his big armchair. I think we'll eat here every time we fly from now on.

Back home I decided to try cooking some more osechi. I've never, ever had to do it because my MIL always does everything, so I didn't want to get too ambitious. I decided to just try a few simple favourites, so I did yakitai (roasted sea bream), kani sarada (crab salad) and ozoni (soup with mochi), along with some quick cabbage pickles (not really osechi, I just wanted something pickled). My in-laws always order a great big sea bream that comes already cooked, wild-caught in the Seto Inner Sea, known for its delicious bream. I've always been under the impression that it must be really hard to cook, but mine (a little farmed one from nowhere famous) turned out beautifully and was surprisingly easy. I want to make this again, not just for new year's.

The crab salad was nothing special, my MIL's is much better and is presented really beautifully.

But the ozoni was good, it's very hard to screw up. It's almost the same as MIL's: a clear dashi broth with chicken thigh, hakusai (Chinese cabbage), mitsuba (trefoil) and square-cut mochi (rice cake), but instead of namafu (raw wheat gluten) I used shiitake. That's it above, with some of the sea bream.

Just like in Osaka, the day after eating yakitai we had taichazuke, which involves making a broth with the leftover fish head and bones and serving it over rice with any leftover meat. This is probably my favourite new year's food of all.

On January 7th we ate nanakusagayu (rice porridge with the seven herbs of spring) without taking a picture, but the herbs and the final dish look exactly like this every single year so I didn't bother with a picture. A few days after that is Kagami Biraki, which is when you break the kagami mochi (rice cakes displayed during the new year's holidays). That's our kagami mochi above, and you can tell how busy/lazy I've been because look at this year's compared to the one we had a few years ago. I mean, no little altar, an ugly fake citrus on top- I'm not even trying.

The mochi was stuffed into abura-age (pockets of fried tofu) and added to oden (a stew of vegetables and various fish and tofu products), which is not at all traditional but as you can probably tell by now I'm not too big on perfectly following tradition these days.

It was yummy though, even if this picture makes it look gross.

The final chapter in a Japanese new year is (I think) Setsubun, which falls on February 3rd. This is a time to drive bad luck out of the house (in the form of oni, best described as an ogre or troll) and bring in good luck. This is done by throwing around dried soybeans, which is really fun to do but rather annoying after because the floor is littered with beans. I really want to sweep them up as soon as they are thrown but seems wrong somehow, so I always mean to leave them overnight and clean them the next day, but by then they are already crushed or kicked away into crevices and I forget. And then for weeks or even months after I find the stupid little beans in random places. Like finding a forgotten chocolate easter egg in June, except not because it's a tasteless bean.

This year I got smart and decided to throw something different. A lot of people through whole peanuts instead, because they're easier to clean up, but I'm not a fan of raw peanuts (and like I have time to sit around shelling them). So I went with little bags of mixed nuts, and it may look like total cheating because there are no soy nuts but it was in the Setsubun section next to all the proper beans and accessories.

Besides being easy to clean up, these packages contain corn nuts and now you too know how to say corn nut in Japanese. What an awesome name, and if you think it makes no sense think about the name "corn nut". It's not a nut, people!

Some families get festive and dress up the dad or other volunteers as the oni. Oni are always red and blue and have horns (or a horn) and usually look rather grumpy. These ones were made at my playgroup so are on the friendly side.

Shuma would only tolerate wearing it for a second or two, so Hideaki and I had to be the oni.

But Shuma happily participated in the throwing part. All other customs, like eating your age in roasted soybeans (yuck!) and eating ehomaki (a fat sushi roll that is supposed to bring luck but is just a made-up thing to get you to but sushi were discarded. I will consider eating my age in giant corn though.