Why I'm staying in Japan

As I was wrestling with God last summer about leaving Japan, I was working through a Bible study on the lives of the women of Genesis. (Coincidentally, or perhaps providentially, I had worked through another study in the series when God re-called me to move to Japan last November.) Lot’s wife taught me that looking backward when I should be looking forward might prevent me from reaching a physical and/or spiritual safe haven that the Lord has prepared for me. And Sarah’s life showed me how taking matters into my own hands in order to hasten the delivery of a promise may result in greater distress. These stories of Abraham’s family greatly influenced my decision to stay in Japan.

While I would never presume to consider myself worthy of being included in the Hall of Faith with Abraham, in many ways I felt and continue to feel somewhat like him – God called both of us to leave our countries, our people, and our families in order to go to a different land. Here, though, the similarities in our situations end, and not just because he went with his wife, nephew, and entire household of servants and possessions whereas I went alone with two suitcases and a backpack. Although Abraham had no idea of where he was headed when he left his homeland, he knew what he would receive in that land because of the promise the Lord had given to him before he left. I, on the other hand, knew to what land I was going, although I had and continue to have no idea of what I might receive here because the Lord made me no promises other than those which are common to all believers, e.g., He will never leave nor forsake me. So to stay in Japan would require me to truly walk by faith.

When I considered that the Israelites wandered through the wilderness for 40 years because of their lack of faith and that some looked back toward the certainty of slavery rather than looked forward toward the uncertainty of the Promised Land, I wondered what unknown promise or gift I might deny myself if I were to leave Japan. So I decided to stay to see what the Lord had planned for me here in Japan when He first called me all those years ago. Yet knowing and believing all this didn’t stop the fear from setting in during the days following the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear plant problems. So once again I found myself wanting to leave Japan despite knowing that the Lord hadn’t conditioned my stay with an early-departure clause for natural disaster. Once again I found myself praying for another clear indication that God wanted me to stay in Japan such as I’d prayed for when He re-called me to Japan almost 16 months ago. And once again the Lord proved faithful in graciously overlooking my fear in order to answer the prayer of my heart.

The aftershocks continue to come each day. I now must pore over produce and dairy labels at the grocery store. And I feel lost over here in so many ways. But my kouchou-sensei (principal) asked me to stay next year instead of telling me to return to America, which was my post-earthquake fleece for distinguishing the Lord’s will. So I have to remind myself everyday that this is where I’m supposed to be this day. I don’t know if Japan is my literal or figurative Promised Land or just a rest stop on the road there. But I do know that I want my faith to be more than a t. So I will stay in Japan for a second year. Pray that I will seek the Lord’s guidance in November when making the decision about a third year.

Until next time…

George Michael's "Faith" certainly didn't look like this.

We had another fairly strong earthquake today. I have no idea what's considered an aftershock from Friday's quake, what's considered a new quake, and if any of the quakes/aftershocks that we've received are fulfilling the predicted 60%-70% chance of a similarly-sized follow-up. But I've been getting new earthquake notifications on my phone for the past couple of days, with some of the quakes being strong and some being comparatively minuscule. Granted, I got no earthquake notification for the world's fifth largest earthquake. So who knows how much credence I should give them. But I did sleep fairly wonderfully when back in my own bed last night, despite the ongoing tremors throughout the night.

That said, the first of the teachers in my group, a couple, understandably headed toward Narita as soon as this afternoon's earthquake hit. We are all on edge. And with no idea of when these quakes and nuclear uncertainties will subside, several of my coworkers have bags packed so that, if necessary, they can head out the door at a moment's notice. With no obligation to go school until Friday and with today's large tremor, I've decided that I will join the ready-to-leave-at-a-moment's-notice group. If I do leave, I'll certainly be leaving behind some of the clothing that I brought with me. And I may not be able to bring home all of the precious notes and other gifts given to me by students and parents. So I'm doing the difficult sorting today to pare down to one checked bag and one carry-on.

Yet if it comes down to making the decision to leave, it's not going to be an easy one. I've long felt God's calling for me to be in Japan. Though I appreciate the refinement I've received since coming here, it's been an extremely painful process and doesn't fit with the awesome-yet-nebulous gifts that I thought I would receive by following His calling. I've felt like an outsider at school the entire time I've been here. I've been sick more than I've been healthy since arriving. And I've not taught EBC at church since October, when all three of my students stopped coming. So though I decided to stay for a second year, that decision was reached only after wrestling with the Lord for several months. Ultimately, my decision to stay was based on my desire to be obedient to His will and to not miss out on whatever He wants to do in me and through me by being here. If I decide to leave as a result of these quakes, tsunami, and potential nuclear danger, I feel like though leaving is wise in man's eyes, it's disobedience in God's eyes. Please pray for me that I'll make a Spirit-led decision.

Until next time...

Nibankari (Aftermath)

**If you're looking for my Jishin! (Earthquake!) post, please scroll down. 

The aftermath of the earthquake has been quite stressful. However, my friends and I have all been looking out for each other. So it has made this ordeal much less intimidating.

Not knowing for how long we'd be without utilities, C.G. and I decided that we would weather the earthquake aftermath together. The first decision of weathering an unknown number of days without water, which affects toilet usage, was to assign one apartment the small potty toilet and the other apartment the big potty toilet. Lucky for me she designated me the keeper of the small potty toilet!

The second decision of not knowing when we would get running water again involved us going in search for water. Japan is a nation that has vending machines on almost every corner. Near my apartment are seven within a two-minute walk. But with no electricity, they were inoperable. (Apparently in times of crisis, one vending machine company allows for its machines' contents to be accessed when there is no power. But we didn't know this at the time.) And the kombini were closed. So we decided to walk to the city's education research office, which is located near my apartment, to check in. On the way there, we stumbled across a warehouse that was selling cases of drinks for ¥1100. (A drink from a vending machine can cost ¥150.) Amazingly, the warehouse wasn't taking advantage of people's desperation for water by charging ridiculously high prices. Unfortunately, they also weren't rationing. So C.G. and I, though we stood in line, were unable to buy any drinks. We met one of the Japanese families from church in the line. We all hugged each others' necks and made sure that everyone was okay before C.G. and I headed off to the education research office with two of their onigiri (rice balls) and some cans of coffee that they refused to let us turn down. (Literally, one of the daughters shoved four cans of coffee into my coat pockets. And though C.G. had already accepted two cans of coffee, the mother tossed another one into her purse as we were walking away.) Upon arriving at the education research office to let the staff know that we were okay, we were able to use a working toilet, wash our hands, and get 10 liters of water.

As the day went on, we noticed people standing in really long lines at kombini, at a grocery store, at a gas station, and at a home center. We were struck by how polite and patient everyone was being in spite of the horrible situation they now found themselves in. C.G. had told me the story from her walk home on Friday of seeing people standing in line at a kombini whose clerks were selling goods through a broken window in order to manage the crowd. Nobody stormed the locked doors to force them open. Instead, they waited patiently for their turn to make a purchase. Through all of this, we've witnessed only one occasion when someone tried to line jump for gasoline. No one has been yelling, pushing, or rioting in their panic. And the third decision we arrived at is if anyone ever has to weather a natural disaster, Japan is the place in which to do it.

Fourth, C.G. and I decided to combine our food resources. While we've not eaten luxuriously or even gotten full at each meal as a result of sharing our food, we have been good at helping each other ration what we do have in order to make it stretch as far as possible. This includes what we already had in our apartments as well as what we found at a fresh produce market that was set up near church on Sunday. We've shared with each other and with K.M. and A.H., two people who opened their apartments to us on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights while we waited for our utilities to come back on. And at church on Sunday, other friends shared their food with us and invited us back to their apartment for a meal, since their utilities already had been turned back on.

Due to our extreme fatigue (ten hours of sleep in a four-day period), we've found great hilarity in some of the things we've said. But we've also tried to find the humor in the situation in order to keep ourselves from dwelling on the magnitude of what is happening all around us. At A.H.'s apartment, her refrigerator had purged itself of its contents during the earthquake before closing its door, which made me think of the armoire in Beauty and the Beast which defends itself against invaders by vomiting its owner's clothing onto the attackers. And as A.H.'s freezer didn't feel as threatened (or perhaps because it opens with a drawer rather than a door), its contents were spared. So once we'd washed the dishes, we decided that the freezer was the safest, albeit coldest, place to protect them in case of an aftershock sending things toppling again, which had happened to our friend N.P.

The utilities at my apartment came back on Monday, where I am now happy to spend my time since my school has told me to stay home until Friday's graduation, as there is no work for me to do there. While I plan to stay on top of what the latest news is saying about the nuclear reactors, in order to minimize my stress, I plan to treat the next two days as a staycation, watching movies, catching up on American TV shows, and doing anything that might temporarily free my mind from worry about what is happening and what decision I should make next.

Until next time...

Jishin! (Earthquake!)

I am so thankful to have been physically uninjured and minimally disturbed by last Friday's major earthquake. And I am keenly aware that millions of people just north of me are unable to say the same thing. Thus, I am conflicted to share the struggles I've encountered as a result of the earthquake's much more minimal effects in my city. They seem so small in comparison. However, they are the struggles I experienced.

Last week there were several small earthquakes that occurred before Friday's quake. A couple woke me in the middle of the night. And some occurred mid-day. But the biggest one occurred just before lunchtime on Wednesday while I was at my one-day-a-week kindergarten, lasting approximately one minute and feeling much more real than any of the other joltings I'd experienced in the 10 previous months. In fact, on Thursday when I went to my main school, I mentioned to my school nurse and my jimuin (teachers' room manager) that I'd had enough earthquakes for the week. And after Friday's quake occurred, I remembered having thought that the week's mini-quakes seemed like precursors to something big yet to come.

I'd finished cleaning up my classroom after having taught my last English class of the day and was walking through the hallways when the quake hit. As I was walking, I didn't initially notice that the vertigo I was experiencing was due to the quake. But the quake quickly became stronger and the school's emergency notification system set in, with the automated warning message sounding and the fire doors closing. Thank goodness that the fire doors have smaller doors built into them, as by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs where I could exit the building, the fire doors had all completely closed.

I looked at one of the other staff members of my school to find out what I should do/where I should go because I'd missed the earthquake drill earlier in the year. He was not helpful in letting me know what I should do. (In his defense, his English is limited.) So when another shock occurred, I went outside where the first and second graders had gathered to leave school at their regularly-scheduled time. I could feel and see the ground rolling like ocean waves and then circling like water going down a drain. And the sixth graders who were setting up the hall for a teacher-appreciation party that was to occur in 15 minutes, came running outside to join us in the courtyard. The rolling and circling of the quake lasted anywhere from three to five minutes; and when the initial quake had stopped, attendance was taken before the students and teachers all went out to the playground, which is a big open dirt field so that we could be away from any debris that might fall. After the rest of the school joined us outside (the other grades endured the quake under the safety of their desks, I assume), we waited for perhaps an hour or 90 minutes for aftershocks to die down before walking the students to their homes, some with their parents who'd come for them, some without.

Skip forward a couple of hours... Around 6pm, the principals dismissed us to go home if we wanted. Upon hearing that there were no traffic signals and that it could take two to three hours to make the trip home by car, I'd hoped that the teachers would want to stay at the school for the evening. (Most schools are designated safety evacuation areas.) But most wanted to go home. So I followed a teacher who lives near me to make the long journey home. It did, indeed, take almost two hours to make the usual 25-minute drive. Traffic was snarled; cement walls around homes had toppled into the streets; roads and bridges had buckled; pedestrians jaywalked to stand in lines at kombini (convenience stores) lit up by car headlights. Upon arriving home, I found some of my neighbors preparing to spend the night in their cars. After climbing the stairs to my fourth floor apartment, I opened my door to find my apartment in shambles. Almost everything in the front half of my apartment had been jostled off the shelves. I had to climb over my shoes, microwave, rice cooker, dish drainer, cooking supplies... to get to the back of my apartment, which I found had fared much better. My furniture had moved six to eight inches away from their original positions; and some things were on the floor. But my TV, computer, and photos survived unscathed. And I had no utilities. I cleaned up some of the broken glass, cleared a couple pathways, and got in bed at 8:30pm.

At 11:30pm, one of my neighbors, C.G., knocked on my door. She'd just accompanied one of her teachers on a six-mile hike home, as the teacher had insisted on going home but was too afraid to drive her car. After finding her apartment in worse shape than mine, she came down to spend the night with me. We both spent the night terrified by the hundred or so aftershocks that continued throughout the night. Every time a strong shock came, we bolted upright, prepared to run out of the apartment. We got absolutely no sleep; and in the morning we felt like we'd been in a war zone due to the rumbling aftershocks that sounded like mortar explosions, emergency sirens that blared all night long, and helicopters droning overhead to survey the damage.

To spare you an even longer post that is already long, I'll share the post-quake stories in a later blog(s).

Until next time...

Are you sure this is Africa?

Did you know that when you step foot in an embassy technically you're stepping foot on the soil of that country? Well, when one of my AET friends, A.T., who is Ethiopian-American, invited me a few weeks ago to attend a Japanese-Ethiopian culture night celebration with him and his wife at the Ethiopian embassy, I was more than ready to go. I wouldn't get a stamp in my passport for walking through the doors. And the scenery would look a whole lot more like Tokyo than Addis Ababa. But I'd be attending a state party in Ethiopia!

When yesterday arrived for our 12-member party to travel for the event, we had to make the decision of whether or not to go due to an incoming typhoon. Many of us would have preferred to stay home. But A.T. was so excited to share his country's food, music, and dancing with us that none of us could tell him no. So we piled into two vehicles and took off for Tokyo at 1pm Africa time, which means that while we were supposed to leave at 1pm, we actually left at 2pm. Unfortunately, that late departure was an unknown-at-the-time foreshadowing of how our travel to the party would go, for when we finally arrived at a metered parking lot that was as close as we could get to the embassy, A.T. told us that the party wasn't at the embassy at all but at another location instead. After another hour of cell-phone-GPS consulting, hailing a cab whose driver couldn't find the building, and pulling one of two Ethiopian guys who were walking on the street into said cab to lead us to our destination, we arrived completely frustrated. But thankfully the event was very enjoyable and most of us were able to forget about the stress of our travel during the course of the evening.

The event was attended mainly by Japanese people, naturally. However, there were several Ethiopian expatriates at the party. And A.T. introduced our group to the ambassador from Ethiopia. Unfortunately, I only got to see him rather than meet him.

The Ethiopian food that we ate was good but very spicy. Having become accustomed to much milder food this past six months, I don't know if I would have found the food to be so spicy if my U.S. palate were still intact. But my mouth was on fire with just a few bites and I was unable to finish my meal.

The Japanese dancers doing both traditional Japanese as well as traditional Ethiopian dances were quite good. But the best part of the evening was when the people attending the party were invited to join in with the dancing.

H.V. and N.N. dancing on the sidelines, although H.V. earlier in the evening had been one of the people to get up and perform with the dancers.

Ethiopian dancing heavily involves moving the shoulders, which the two Ethiopians in this picture were able to do quite well. J.M. couldn't quite manage the shoulders, although he would have been more than happy to show us the hips-driven Latin dances that he learned while growing up in Honduras.

I never made it to Africa last night. So I guess I'll just have to go at some point in the future. But at one of the traffic lights on the way home, I saw what is surely the world's smallest liquor store (and its bored-looking employee). If I'd wanted to lie down on the floor to measure the store's width, I would have touched the exterior wall with my head and the interior wall with my feet. (Please don't fail to notice the store's name.) When you live and work in a city as crowded as Tokyo, you make the most of every square inch.

Until next time...

すいょぅび (Suiyōbi - Wednesdays)

Wednesdays are my most dreaded day of the week, for they are the day I go to my one-day-a-week kindergarten. The kids and teachers generally are not the reason why I dread going to this school. However, they have been known to contribute to my dread, since these are the same kids who love to touch me in inappropriate places and the same teachers who forget to tell me about important activities like field trips. But the two reasons I don't like going to my Wednesday kindergarten are because it rains every single day I go there (Literally, there has not been one day when I've gone to that school when it's not rained during my commute. I've yet to arrive without being soaking wet.) and because something discouraging and unrelated to the rain always occurs.

I know that right now I'm somewhere in the midst of the "Everything is horrible" part of the culture stress adjustment curve and that one day I will progress to the "Everything is okay" part of the curve. But when every Wednesday brings something unexpected, it's difficult to believe the things-will-improve mantra that I tell myself. (No matter what I learned through my intercultural communication graduate study, knowledge and experience are two vastly different teachers. And while I wish that the former were a better teacher for me than the latter, that's not the case.) So in addition to soaking wet shoes and feeling violated every Wednesday, I encounter surprise field trips, didn't-you-know-that-today-is-teach-the-parents day, the obento (boxed lunch) for which I wasn't included...; and this past Wednesday was no different. Unfortunately, what came this past Wednesday on the way to school followed on the heels of two days of high-stress events. And I had my first "I hate Japan!" week since arriving. But then a few girls at school were super sweet, immediately giving me hugs as soon as they saw me. So Wednesday progressed somewhat better than it started, though Thursday was rough as I battled a headache all day and fell asleep at school, despite my every effort to stay awake. (This heat and humidity zaps all my energy before I even arrive at school.) The workweek ended with a drive to the outskirts of Tokyo last night for a birthday celebration with seven other English teachers at The Hard Rock Cafe. (Yes, we were on the road longer than we were in the restaurant.) And Saturday, although it started much too early, has begun with the delivery of a non-hobbit-sized refrigerator and a leisurely brunch at an amazing pastry shop within walking distance of my apartment and should end with good fellowship with one of the missionaries at the church.

While my posts haven't reflected anything good I've experienced since arriving in Japan, and I have experienced a few, things truly aren't as bad as they could be or perhaps as they seem. But blogging about my experiences helps me to cope with what happens. So when exciting or fun things start happening, I will be sure to share them as well.

Until next time...

UPDATE (7/1/10): I learned today that the kanji (Japanese character) for Wednesday means "water." How fitting, then, that it rains every Wednesday, including this past one. What else can the day's weather do but live up to the Japanese forefathers' expectations for it?

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

The ground shook today after church; and I don't think it was because of the Holy Spirit. Several other of the new AETs have said that they've felt some mild tremors in the early morning hours since arriving two months ago. And I'd heard rhetorically before coming over that Japan experiences at least one earthquake every day. But somehow, despite my inability to sleep well until getting my bed last weekend, I've not felt a single one. Until today. A 6.1 or 6.2 magnitude quake occurred off the coast of Honshu, the main island of Japan, a little after 12:30pm local time. It couldn't have lasted more than 10 seconds (if that); and no one felt the need to evacuate the building, although I immediately stood up so that I could do so. (Pictures from last week of the giant sink hole in Guatemala immediately flashed through my mind, although that sink hole was not caused by an earthquake.) In fact, everyone remained very calm; and the only thing that anyone said was to move out from underneath the ceiling fans. The feeling of the earthquake was scary. But I don't think I can say that it's more scary than evacuating to the basement when my house/apartment/school has been in the path of a tornado. In fact, it may be a little less scary because at least the sky stays blue instead of changing to a creepy green.

Until next time...

Work Week Two

Monday was my first day to "teach," as indicated in my previous post. But Tuesday was my first day to actually teach a lesson. For some reason, the first graders were combined into one class that day. So my first class had 90+ students! The lesson didn't go according to plan. But thankfully six-year-old kids don't really notice when something isn't quite up to par. And they appeared to have enjoyed their first lesson with me. So while I'll consider it to have been a success, I'm happy that my classes won't usually have that many students in them at one time.

Wednesday, on the other hand, was a complete fiasco. I biked to school; and having not been on a bike in seven years, I felt like I looked like an intoxicated person as I tried to stay upright. But added to the ignominy of long-forgotten-bike-riding skills was riding in cats-and-dogs rain so that when I arrived at school after my 15-20 minutes commute, I was thoroughly soaked. But, as I'm finding to be the rule when talking about Japanese people, the teachers at the kindergarten were incredibly nice and gave me a towel to dry off and some hot tea to warm up before they introduced me to the kids.

I'd been forewarned about the behavior of kindergartners, and their tendency to kancho others. But foreknowledge and actual experience are two different things, for the word kancho means enema. The kids will clasp their hands together with their index fingers forming a gun and jab people in the rear or crotch while yelling kancho. Thankfully, when the teacher heard me saying "No!" to the offending kids she told them to stop and had them apologize. So I was never kanchoed again. But later during snack time other kids grabbed my chest. They'd also grabbed my sides, as if they were tickling me. So I'm not going to make anything of the kanchoing or grabbing, since they were done by innocent kids. But, it is rather disconcerting to be grabbed at and poked in one's private places, regardless. Added to the drenching commute and the kanchoing was the fact that I didn't know I needed to bring my lunch with me. (I eat the school lunch at my other school.) So when it came time for the kids to eat their obentos (boxed lunches), I planned to eat a candy bar I'd had in my purse for a week. But the principal (I assume) had the teachers' room manager go out in the pouring-down rain to get me lunch. No sooner had I finished eating a portion of someone's miso soup, tomatoes, and cheese than the manager walked in with a large selection of sandwiches, sausage rolls, and other items for me. To cap off the day, I had coffee and snacks at a table by myself, like I was at the kids' table, rather than at the empty desk in the teachers' desks bullpen before having to ride back home in the rain. My first experience at this school was unfortunate in many ways. But the teachers are extremely nice. The kids really are adorable. And I know it wasn't indicative of all the Wednesdays to come.

Thursday was the holiday known as Showa's Day. Showa (I believe this is more of a title than a name.) was the emperor of Japan prior to the current emperor. And April 29th, his birthday, is a national holiday. So what did some Americans do to celebrate the former Japanese emperor's birthday? We ate Mexican food in Tsukuba (affectionately known as Scuba) about an hour away. It was by no means like the Mexican food I've grown accustomed to eating. (Do Tex-Mex restaurants in the States serve a poached egg on arroz con pollo?) But it was great to eat chips and salsa nonetheless.

Friday was back to work; and I taught three classes of third graders and one class of fourth graders. My third grade lesson was delivered differently each time. And the students still need time to adjust to my teaching style. But I felt that the lesson went more along the lines of how I'd planned it to go than did the first grade's lesson.

Friday night began the Golden Week holiday. Golden Week 2010 is three one-day holidays (Constitution Day, Greenery Day, and Children's Day) that occur on May 3rd, 4th, and 5th. So it's a time for the entire country to be on holiday. I've enjoyed Golden Week so far, as I've spent time with old and new friends on Friday and visited Yokohama and Kamakura on Saturday and Sunday. But I'll save those stories and photos for another post.

Until next time...