My family and I were on the train platform, sending off my husband’s aunt to New York. I was watching her through the train window as she settled into her seat when I heard,
“Wait!” I turned to the staircase, but didn’t see anything. I looked up and found a tall beautiful young woman running down the stairs with high heels. She was near the top of the stairs and I thought there was no way she’d make it. The train’s doors had closed shut by the time she came down. She charged toward the train, and hit the door with her fist. It didn’t open. She hit the next door, and then the next. I secretly hoped that the conductor wouldn’t open the door for her; making an exception for one passenger can ultimately create safety risks for everyone. The train started to move. Then, she turned around, stared at us and yelled,
“You could’ve helped me.” I said in my head, “You could’ve come earlier.” On weekends, the train runs only once an hour. Time warps: missing a train by one minute on this side will be multiplied by sixty on the other end. Her frustration was understandable.
She went out of my sight, but I lingered. I was curious; would she come back?
“Mom. She’s scary. We should move.” My son pulled my sleeve. So reluctantly I agreed and we walked up the stairs and out to the street. My daughter was upset and mumbled “why did she say something like that?” I volunteered, “She may have a show to go to with a boyfriend, and wanted to look perfect and couldn’t decide which shoes to wear.” I was teasing my daughter on her long decision-making process for her own outfit, but she didn’t notice. I realized that she had never seen anybody act like that. I have; one of them was me. I banged the closed gate at the airport, and they opened it for me. I had been there for a long time but was so engrossed in a book that I couldn’t hear the announcement.
When we were moving to a cheese shop, my husband broke his silence.
“Wait. Was she talking to us?” Talk about clueless.
Last week, the Japanese reconstruction minister resigned. He has been overseeing the reconstruction of the areas devastated by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. He made a gaffe when he spoke of the reconstruction costs caused by the 9.0 earthquake. According to English news sources, his statement was that “It was better that this happened in the north-east areas of Japan.” That is where my father lives and I know the reconstruction has been progressing at a snail’s pace. It’s been six years, and survivors of the earthquake and tsunami, already exhausted by all that has happened, were deeply hurt by his words. A mayor of one town said “His words are a sacrilege to our lives.”
I understand their anger.
But I was disappointed as the same old scenario played out again.
“I hurt people’s feelings.” The ex-minister explained his reason for resignation. It is a good reason to apologize, but do you really need to resign? What good does it do?
This is cultural. Government and the survivors are playing their cultural roles. Even after the ex-minister’s resignation, survivors kept emphasizing their previous expectations and their disappointments on the emotional level, not the fact-based demands. Both the government and the survivors are stuck in the mud that they have co-created in a Japanese cultural context. I believe, though, that many of them knew that this would only further stall the progress of recovery. The newly appointed reconstruction minister needs to learn the ropes and needs to be very careful what he says. A whole learning curve and less honest discussion will entail.
Then I saw what the ex-minister said in Japanese on a Japanese TV News program. I agree that he shouldn’t have said it in the way that he did, but it was clear to me what he meant. Don’t we all agree that if the earthquake had hit one of the metropolitan areas, it would have been even more catastrophic? Certainly, the reconstruction costs would have soared beyond anything we can even imagine.
What we need to do is focus on the solution. The survivors are the most important actors here. They need to make the right move to help themselves. Take a breath. Take a step back. Think of how to achieve their goals. They can use this situation to their advantage and ask for more resources, for example.
“I forgive you. Build us a community center. That’d ease our pain.” I might have said to the ex-minister.
Several years ago, a Japanese mother learned that her child was behind on math. She really wanted the teacher to apologize to her. In her view, the teacher could have done more. I suggested that it would be more helpful if the mother focused on a solution.
“Maybe your daughter can see the teacher before school starts and ask questions?”
“Yes, but …”
“Do you want to see the teacher and discuss how to support your daughter’s learning?”
“Yes, but …”
She wasn’t moving forward, because she was drowning in her pain. She was hurt because she couldn’t help her daughter in time, and wanted to blame someone else. But finding a target and letting her anger out wouldn’t get her daughter a positive and supportive learning environment.
Maybe we should forgive another person’s mistakes so that we can put ourselves in a better place. Maybe we should admit that sometimes we get hurt, and accept it as part of life. We need to find ways to avoid inflicting further suffering, onto ourselves or others.
The young lady who missed the train, I imagine, probably ran up the other stairs, and made it to New York City in time via Uber. She was angry, but I could tell she isn’t a type who will suffer in silence or get trapped in her own emotions. She was focused on her goal.
Many non-Japanese think that Japanese are backwards. I tend to agree with them, however, I also think that living with sorrow can be a beautiful part of Japanese culture.
But we’ve gone too far. To get what we need, can we allow ourselves to experience a growing pain? To gain something, can we let go of our hurt feelings? Or move forward despite our hurt feelings? In life, there are more important things than protecting ourselves from getting hurt. That may be the price we have to pay to move forward.