A Gaijin Perspective

Steve Hill

I was asked to write an article for the Annual Report. What can I write (in English) that is relevant?

I’m not Japanese. I can’t speak Japanese. To be truthful, it is disappointing that after sixteen years with Atsuko that I am still illiterate in Japanese. All I can say is konnichiwa, arigato and Motto Biiru kudasai.

Except for natto, I quite enjoy Japanese food. People say I’m good with ohashi, but I expect they’re being polite. Japanese culture and art attract me. I appreciate fine pottery, ikebana and lacquer. Sumo is fun to watch as are festivals like obon and omatsuri. I can easily relax for an afternoon soaking in the onsen. Castles, Buddhist temples, Shinto shrines and Zen gardens all captivate my inner spirit. A gracious tea master makes me feel like I’m sipping the subtle, ancient wisdom of Japanese culture. I especially love the beautiful nature, mountains, valleys and ocean.

Yet there is another aspect to visiting Japan. While I have an immense attraction to the people, the culture and the land, and while the Japanese have shown me generous hospitality, I also experience a distance and loneliness mainly because I cannot speak the language. And many English-speaking Japanese are too shy to speak English for fear of making a mistake.

In Edmonton, when I visit the Japanese School, of course it is a Japanese-speaking community. There are many nice and interesting people. But, again, I am an outsider because I can’t join in the conversation. Perhaps Japanese sometimes feel like that in English-speaking Canada.

Japanese illiteracy is a big limitation for me.

That‘s why I hoped things would be different for my son, Keita. Thanks to our family and some dedicated teachers, Keita attended grade five in Japan, learning Japanese from scratch. It was not easy for him in a different culture and way of education. It was hard being the weakest student. It took lots of guts, patience and humble pie. Many people said it was a waste of effort because he would forget Japanese when he came back to Canada. That was my fear, too.

However, thanks to the Japanese School and our Japanese friends in Edmonton, Keita has the chance to practice Japanese. It is not the same as living everyday in Japan, but it sure helps. Keita says he paid too big a price learning Japanese to lose it now.

I am happy for Keita that he is culturally amphibious. Now he can live in both Canadian and Japanese culture. Thanks to English and Japanese literacy, Keita has a promising future. What a gift!

But more important than my son enjoying a nice future just for himself, I think the future of the planet depends in no small measure on building bridges of communication, mutual respect and friendship among the different races that make up the one human family. Keita’s pride about his British and Japanese ancestry is a little sign of hope in a world hungering for racial tolerance and global peace.

No organization exists without the effort of dedicated individuals. The retirement of Ohki sensei reminded me that Metro Edmonton Japanese Community School exists today because for the past twenty-nine years people believed in the value of its existence. We owe a debt of gratitude to the numerous individuals who overcame the challenges of creating and maintaining the School for almost three decades. The 30^th anniversary next year will be a good cause for celebration.

Thank you to the Principal, Board, Teachers and families. Though it is hard for me to communicate and be friends with you, I am sincerely grateful that you value keeping alive the Japanese language and culture in Canada.

Ganbatte kudasai