The Vanishing Foreigner, Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

After St. Johns, Danny went to university in Seattle and majored in history and anthropology. He could never bring himself to forgive his parents for abandoning him to the academy the way they did, and the little contact they had was never initiated by him. Despite their repeated offers to pay for his education, he refused all financial help and paid his way through student loans and part time jobs.

One day after graduation he saw an advertisement to teach English in Japan and given his educational background, it seemed the perfect way to begin paying off his debt. He applied and was offered a job with a large and growing conversation school. As his departure date neared Danny found himself dreaming of becoming fluent in Japanese and showing up his parents by having a position of responsibility in a multi-national company.

He was sent to Imabari, a city of about 120,000 in Ehime prefecture on Shikoku. At the time it was unusual to see a westerner in any but the major Japanese cities, and wherever he went he felt himself to be the center of attention. He was the first Caucasian many of the people in Imabari had ever seen and being such a striking redhead made it a real event for the locals. At times strangers would flock to him and though he initially found being gaggled over a novelty, as the months wore on it became increasingly difficult to deal with. He still retained the genteel decorum of North Carolina, where as long as one obeyed the rules people were painstakingly courteous with strangers, but on Shikoku it seemed that being a foreigner made you fair game and he often found himself counting to ten in an effort to keep his cool.

When he arrived at his new job, he requested that he live in a Japanese style house- the smaller and more traditional the better. His manager tried to change his mind but after repeatedly checking to make sure that was what he really wanted, found him an "usagi goya," or rabbit hutch, close to the sea. It had a small kitchen with one cold water tap and two rooms, one with six tatami mats, the other with three. Danny loved it at first sight, and though it didn't have a bath there was a public bath-house nearby that was open from 6:00 in the morning until 11:00pm. His manager couldn't understand why anyone would give up the convenience of a bath, but for Danny, already accustomed to dormitory life and communal showers, living the old fashioned way would be a chance to immerse himself in history. When he was given the keys he couldn't believe his luck.

The first time he went to the bath-house, he knew he was supposed to wash before he got into the tub but wasn't prepared for being openly stared at by the other patrons. They were mostly older men but none had ever seen a naked Caucasian before and made no attempt to hide their fascination with his red pubic hair. He began to dread going to take a bath but eventually the regulars lost interest in his anatomy and he was more or less accepted. When a new face happened to be there while he was undressed, he did his best to ignore the unwanted attention.

One other problem Danny had to surmount was that his house was near a junior high school and the male students seemed to be at war with him. Several times a week he'd be walking down a street and one of them would whiz by on a bicycle and shout back, "I have a pen." Again, it was a novelty at first, but he grew tired of being a target. When he'd had a particularly bad day, he'd shout something back, all the while knowing it was a losing battle in which he could capture no ground.

At times he felt like he had made a terrible mistake coming to Japan and toyed with the idea of packing up and leaving without a word. He was having trouble with the language and it was endlessly frustrating when he'd speak Japanese to someone and be answered in English, regardless of the person's ability to speak it. He asked his manager about it once while they were having a drink after work.

"You've got to understand Danny-san," he said, "most people who speak to you had to study English grammar and translation for six years. Six years! Think about that. Six years studying a language as ungrammatical as English with the only purpose being to take tests. When they meet you it may be their only chance to ever put to use what they were forced to study. It's only natural they feel they have to say something, even if it is only nonsense."

Looking at it from this point of view, Danny was able to adopt a more benign attitude toward those he felt imposed upon him, but it was an intellectual understanding that required periodic care.

One day when Danny had nothing to do, he stopped at a coffee house he'd never visited before. The shop was full of customers and noisy but when he stepped inside the whole room went quiet for a few seconds. He found a seat and when the waiter came to take his order the customers and staff again stopped to hear his Japanese.

He'd always assumed that staring at strangers was a universal taboo, but since arriving in Imabari that assumption was continually being put to the test. With everyone's eyes on him, he felt like a trespasser and when his coffee finally came, began drinking it as quickly as possible. By this time he knew enough Japanese to understand some of what was being said and here and there he could hear the words "foreigner" and "red." Though there was no detectable animosity directed towards him, the indifference to his feelings filled him with a resentment that grew in intensity with each gulp of coffee. He hadn't felt this way since St. Johns and when he noticed an increasing number of patrons staring at his head he knew he should flee. He paid quickly and left his cup half empty.

Once outside, he headed for the sea on foot. As he was walking, a police car drove by, stopped and backed up to where he stood. The driver hit the flashers, got out and asked to see his identification. Danny knew the officer was perfectly within his rights to do so and complied, but when it became apparent that he only wanted to practice his English and wouldn't take his eyes off his hair, Danny took offense and became abrasive. The officer eventually lost patience and made him accompany him to his station where Danny's manager was called to come for his release.
When he arrived and began apologizing to the police for having caused so much trouble, Danny was livid.

He was still fuming when they stepped outside and by then his hair was so bright he could have found his way through an abandoned coal mine. His manager was angry too but the change in Danny's appearance was so striking, he asked Danny if he was okay. "What's it look like!" he answered through clenched teeth. Once the conversation shifted back to the inconvenience he'd caused, Danny made himself count and didn't respond. That night as he lay in bed, he realized he could no longer live on Shikoku.

His school was opening branches all over Japan and when he went in the next day he told his manager that he wanted to be transferred to a larger city on Honshu or Kyushu. He was still spooked by the way his hair had made the dreaded change and after the debacle with the police his manager was more than happy to see him leave. Within a few days he told him a position was opening up in Hiroshima and that weekend Danny visited the city. Though his initial impression was unfavorable, by the time he left on Sunday he couldn't wait to come back.

Hiroshima has a brisk tourist trade and its citizens are accustomed to the sight of foreigners. His improbable red hair did cause some heads to turn but it was nothing beyond what he had to put up with in the United States. In fact, after his experience of living in Imabari he felt positively anonymous and was rejuvenated. The following Monday, he told his manager he definitely wanted to make the move.

There was an apartment waiting for him near Nagarekawa, the drinking district, and it had a shower and bath. It lacked the charm of his house in Imabari, but after having endured the stares of other bath patrons for so long, the privacy and freedom to choose when he bathed was a genuine luxury. But more than that, he'd often felt that most of his students in Imabari had been more interested in simply being with a foreigner than learning to speak. His new students seemed more ambitious and that reinvigorated his efforts at teaching. In short, his move to Hiroshima was like starting out again with a clean slate.

After living in the countryside Danny enjoyed the excitement of a big city but soon tired of the noise. Many times he was awakened in the early morning hours by drunken blabbering from the street and could never get back to sleep. Within a few months he requested that he be allowed to move to a different apartment in a quieter part of town, but as this would require an extra expense of money, time and energy, his manager, without actually saying so, refused to cooperate. This, coupled with the fact that the Hiroshima office was much busier than Imabari's yet had the same compensation, caused him to harbor a certain bitterness he continually added to. And though he was relieved to not feel like the center of attention anymore, a new problem arose which confounded him beyond measure.

Hiroshima has several colleges and many students congregate around the drinking area. Sometimes when he was walking young couples would be coming towards him and the man would lean over and say something to the woman. After that the woman would look at Danny and laugh. He had no way of knowing what had been said but as they passed each other the couples always smiled straight ahead and pretended he wasn't there. Danny longed for a confrontation but instead began devising new ways of counting to ten, like 123, 234, 345... Eventually he learned to avert his eyes from young couples altogether but could never erase the awareness he was being laughed at.

On Wednesday mornings, he also had a ten o'clock housewive's class he'd come to loathe. There were four students in it and he never could understand why they came because they were never prepared and constantly spoke to each other in Japanese. One of them, Ms. Watanabe, was particularly annoying. Although her grammar was excellent, she paused between each word and took five minutes to say what anyone should be able to say in thirty seconds. She monopolized the class time and every attempt he'd made to limit her speaking time failed.

To give everyone equal speaking time and encourage class preparation, he began every class by asking each student what she had done the previous week. While the others spoke, Ms. Watanabe always ignored them, constantly flipping through her dictionary as she jotted down notes. He took this as an affront to the others and it embarrassed him. He assumed she was preparing what she was going to say so began calling on her first, but she flatly refused to oblige, even after taking her aside one day and asking her not to behave like this. In private he referred to her as his bilingual nightmare and dreaded Wednesday mornings to such a degree that he never slept well on Tuesday nights.

One Wednesday morning when he arrived, he was surprised to find the classroom empty. It was a ninety minute class and if no one showed up within the first half, then the class would be cancelled. One by one the calls began coming in from students saying they wouldn't be there, and with each one his mood improved.
After the third call, there was a knock on his door and the manager came in.

Danny couldn't stand him, especially his habit of "asking" him to do things that blurred the terms of his contract. If he had simply told him to do something it wouldn't have bothered him so much, but the manager always insisted on giving him choices that guaranteed his desired outcome. These choices reminded him of a game he used to play with Jerome where they'd try to outdo each other with gruesome scenarios like "would you rather walk barefoot through a blizzard or swim through a river of snot?" As soon as Danny saw his grin, he knew life was about to get a little worse.

"Good morning," his manager said and sat down. "Not so busy today ne."
"Looks that way."
"By the way, I had a meeting yesterday with a company that wants to take your class." The way he said your made it sound like they wanted Danny's class and no one else's.
"Really." "Yes. We are trying to figure out a schedule. They would like to have it two mornings a week from 8:00 to 9:30. If you don't want to do that you can do it on Saturday nights from 7:00 to 10:30... With a thirty minute break, of course."

Danny's contract stipulated that he work thirty hours a week between 10:00am and 9:00pm with one day's holiday but they had always tried to give him two days off a week. If he opted for the Saturday night class that would effectively cancel his whole weekend.

"Where?"
"It's only a thirty minute train ride away."

He could feel clouds of heat beginning to billow up from his collar and there was nothing he would've liked more than to lean across the table and give him a good rap him on the ear.

"A thirty minute train ride, which means at least an hour each way? Saturday night? What kind of choice is that?"
"So you'd prefer to do the morning classes? That's probably better. By the way, we'll give you an extra 20,000 yen a month."

The secretary had made the mistake of showing Danny what kind of fees the school charged for company classes and the money they made from this new class would probably cover his whole salary.

"Twenty thousand yen. Wow! I could pay for my phone AND my electricity with that."

Just then there was a knock on the door with a Gomen nasai that could only be Ms. Watanabe. Mr. Tanaka stood up and told him to think about it. As he left Danny glanced at his watch and saw that it was 10:47.

When Ms. Watanabe saw she was the only student she said "Nobody's here!" She looked hesitant whether or not she should enter, but Danny motioned her in and asked her to have a seat.

"Good morning Ms. Watanabe, how are you? You are late today."
Ohayo gozaimasu. Gomen nasai, she laughed. "I was busy."

Danny nodded and though he knew it was a mistake asked anyway. "What did you do last week?"
"I... went... shopping. I... uh... bought... a... bag. The bag... is... leather. It is... Gucci. This... is... it," she said and put it on the table.
"That's very nice," he said. "Since it's only you today I'd like to skip your usual speech and review some things in our text."
"No. Today... I... am... talking... about... my... garden."
"Ms. Watanabe, this is the perfect chance to improve your speaking ability; there are some areas we should go over together."
"My garden... is... large..." she began and for the next forty three minutes time seemed to grind to a halt.

Danny listened and nodded politely but he was only half tuned to what she said, the other half being tied up rehearsing what he'd say to his boss. When the class finally rolled to a stop, he went to the office and asked where "Tanaka" was, purposely omitting the polite -san.
The receptionist was making entries in the account book and when she looked up, was startled by his hair now glowing as brightly as a lit fuse.

"He's... he is out to lunch."
"You tell that... you tell him I want to talk," he growled and marched out the door.

Rick Nelson grew up in Oklahoma and has lived in Japan for all but a few of the last 27 years. He has practiced Inochi-no-Chochiku, a Japanese exercise/healthcare system, for twenty five years. His mother was a librarian and professional storyteller and was instrumental in developing his interest in literature and writing. Hiroshima inspires him and he currently divides time between Hiroshima city and Shikoku.

Edited by JJWalsh