•Secret Asian Man: Inaka Spy• •In a Nutshell• •You Be You and I’ll Be Me• •My One-Day Yokohama Experience• •A Brief History of API AJET• •When the Doorbell Rang•
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API AJET
Secret Asian Man Inaka Spy
written by Albert David Valderrama (茨城県)
T
hree summers ago, I was recruited by an international, monogramed organization known succinctly as the “J.E.T.” Their aim was to infiltrate the Japanese educational underbelly and impart within it a covert code made up of Roman letters and romanticized roots that would bring about the rise of a cross-cultural revolution. It would be a sort of inception while everyone was still awake. At the time, a worthwhile mission, I thought, so I chose to accept it. Over the course of weeks and months, I managed to gain access to the inside, taking on the identity of a teacher. It proved easier than anticipated with my natural disguise; I already looked like them, and it was not long before I could mimic their language to some degree. Needless to say, however, things have not gone without a hitch. Coming ill-equipped of the local lingo and minimally briefed on the cultural situation before being air-dropped into the countryside, I have lost my cover on numerous occasions, often succumbing to the default alternative identity of having a Japanese speech impediment or worse. It was once in transit during my first autumn on assignment when such a strategic switch had to be executed. Instructed to assemble at a discreet
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building within the prefectural capital while carrying a payload of foreign ambassadors, I commandeered an automobile for the purpose of the mission. The delivery: four dignitaries from several sectors around the globe. The goal: escort them to an international consortium in one piece at a designated time. The catch: convince the passengers that I was one of them without jeopardizing my preexisting camouflage with the locals--become a double agent of sorts. It was already a challenge before the clock even started ticking. I met my packages around 0800 hours at the designated train terminal and had the wheels rolling before any questions were asked. I came under my own undoing with my first rookie mistake, however; I set course on my mission without completely canvasing the surrounding terrain prior to departure, and soon I was driving in circles, losing sight of the finish line and wasting precious time. I had no choice but to break protocol. I turned to my passengers and asked for a favor. I needed a navigator, and the prominent Scotsman, Dr. Pickleweasel, obliged without protest. I involved a package in the case, and that was my second mistake. With a map in his hands, I followed the Scotsman’s every word. Turn by turn, he
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led me from one road to another. Recognizing some landmarks from the satellite imagery of the area, I was confident that we were at the very least nearing the drop point. Surely, only a few corners remained. The doctor was proving to be an adequate accessory after all. But as soon as that thought formulated in my mind, it hit me: I trusted the doctor without confirming his credentials. Strike three. In my windshield was a local authority, staring at me, speeding my way on a black and white motorcycle. The Scot had led me into a trap. I had been double-crossed. It was the wrong way from the start. There was no escape. I had to regain control of the situation, and there was only one option remaining: rewrite the script back to the fundamentals. First, I needed to breathe. I had exhausted my options, and all exits were sealed. Then, I recalled Lesson One of the survival tactics handbook: “Nihongo ga Tabemasen.” I was faced with the worst case scenario undercover, mistaken for a citizen on the wrong side of the law, so I reached deep within and reverted to the identity I had used for over a decade prior to becoming an agent for the J.E.T. I produced a blue American passport and an International Driving Permit from a hidden pocket in my satchel and presented it to the officer glaring in my face. The stern trooper examined it as close as he could. It was obvious he wanted to make an arrest. My only hope was for him to believe the flawless documents and be fooled by my perfectly Anglicized pronunciation of gibberish and chatter meant to disorientate him. I spoke quickly and made sure no hint of Japanese escaped my lips, explaining nothing useful in particular, but saying everything that the ambassadors in my automobile were expecting to hear. Within a minute, he understood the new situation I put before him, making him see the show I wanted him to watch rather than the program he first thought he tuned into. We were not the droids he was looking for, so he allowed us to turn around and carry on with our day. But he was not done with me just yet, and the doctor in the passenger seat still had one more trap in his bag for me as well. After I maneuvered the vehicle away
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from the patrolman, I came to a traffic signal, and like a ninja, the peace officer was in my face again. Another problem? Did he not buy into my rouse? Was he able to see through my guise? Were the seals too perfect on my documents? Certainly, the jig was up, and alas, my skills as a wheelman may have needed reawakening, so I put the transmission into gear and eyed my outs. Then, without warning, the stern man drove in front of the sedan, blocking my path. He signaled for me to follow him. I was sure there was only one place we were headed. But instead of leading me to the precinct, he escorted us to our target location like a good Samaritan. An audible breath emanated from my lungs. I had fooled the law and reached my destination with my passengers none the wiser except for the one man I should never have trusted at the onset of this journey. Ipso facto, as the local authority was exiting the scene, the Scotsman grinned and uttered a simple phrase, negating my efforts in one fell swoop. “Arigatou gozaimasu. Sumimasen.” The officer stopped. I froze. Time stood still. Everything went silent. Sweat visibly fell from my brow as I skimmed through the entire survival handbook once more in my head. I had to see the mission through to the end, but I was in too deep to change tactics again. Not there. Not then. An awkward eternity was passing before our very eyes. I had to act quickly. “Thank you,” I said at last in a clear, pronounced voice through my wide open window. And after a moment of contemplation with a short nod of satisfaction, the policeman went on about his way. The legal threat had vacated the scene, and the Scotsman’s trap had been foiled. Thus, everything returned to an even keel. Mission complete, but not completely accomplished. After all, I may have just met my new nemesis, but as I learned from the international consortium, we had in fact been working for the same agency from the start. Well played, Dr. Pickleweasel, but what was your angle exactly, sir? As my luck would have it, the truth was about to find me soon enough, whether I really it wanted to or not. ◆
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API AJET
I’m Japanese-American. In America, individuality is valued. In Japan, it’s not. Being in Japan, at first glance, my individuality isn’t always so obvious. I miss my individuality sometimes.
In a Nutshell
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written by Kay Makishi (福岡県)
API AJET
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You be you and I’ll be me written by Melody Wong (岡山県)
reprinted from Words of a Melody
L
et me begin by telling you a little about me. I am Chinese American. I was born in America. I realize that I’m stuck in this perpetual limbo between two cultures. Most Asian Americans (or Asian Canadians, Asian Australians, etc.) struggle with a kind of identity crisis when being in either country of origin. For me, I’m not quite American in America and I’m not quite Chinese in China. Not being accepted for what I am naturally is quite common. Coming to Japan, I realized that I’m neither Chinese nor American. I’m Japanese!! It’s nice to be recognized as part of this population, but when I pronounce that I am actually Chinese American, I get one of several responses: 1 I’m lying or some sort of disbelief because I look Japanese. 2 I must be half Chinese and half Caucasian (American = Caucasian). 3 I’m Chinese from China. Of course, looking Japanese has its perks. I blend in with the crowd and I don’t get harassing stares from nationalists. I don’t get the occasional stares of wonderment that most non-
Asian people get while walking down the street. Nor do I get the random shouts of, “HELLO! NICE TO MEET YOU!” When I’m among other foreigners in a place dealing with Japanese service people, I get more attention from the service person even if the other foreigners are responding in Japanese.
business cards from new people when other foreigner men do, the men usually get served first, the men walk through the door or elevator first, the men get seated first, etc. So, I do as the Japanese women are expected to do and keep my mouth shut. Of course, the Japanese women are, in fact, Japanese women so they are accustomed to this culture. I, on the other hand, am not, so I internalize this fury inside until I can poop it out somewhere else. This isn’t something new. Most of my friends around me know about this dilemma and I appreciate the sympathy. Yes, I know that I’m in a very rural area and most of these people have never left my small town of Kibichuo so I should be more understanding, right? I shouldn’t take this stuff personally, right? Trust me; I really don’t want to take this stuff personally. However, when I’m constantly exposed to situations where I’m indirectly ridiculed for looking Japanese but not speaking Japanese, or being among other folks who are not Asian-looking but speak Japanese fluently, it takes a toll on my self-worth. It’s hard Continued on p.8
At least I’m accepted somewhere, even if it’s not for who I really am. Then, there’s the down side. Due to my lack of Japanese speaking skills, I get ousted by the sea of people who can speak the language. I’m looked down upon because I can’t speak, even if they don’t mean to make me feel that way. Occasionally I’ll get laughed at when people find out I need a Caucasian person to translate Japanese to me. I don’t get the attention that other nonAsian looking foreigners get. You know, the swarms of Japanese girls or boys going up to you like you’re some kind of celebrity. Also, since I’m a “Japanese woman,” I am involuntarily immersed in the Japanese chauvinistic ways: I don’t get handed
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My One-Day Yokohama Experience written by Yolanda Espiritu (青森県)
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I
t was the first time I had ever been to Yokohama. Now, I find myself recommending my friends and telling my co-workers who live in the inaka called “Imabetsu” and haven’t been there before to go when they have the time because it’s a beautiful place. I surprised myself when I said this because it meant I really liked the city! Moreover, it was surprising to realize just how much I liked the city, for one, but on top of that, to call a city “beautiful” is something I don’t think I’ve ever done before. Personally, cities don’t tend to really fascinate me, and they aren’t something I would normally call “fascinating” or “beautiful,” so I was surprised at my reaction. You can find beautiful things in a city, but the city itself is usually a busy, crowded place, right? It’s not usually so clean and...beautiful. But, for some reason, I used that word for Yokohama. That makes me kind of nervous because I wouldn’t want my friends to be disappointed after my recommendation, but Yokohama is definitely a place to visit. I can say that with certainty. In fact, I encourage everyone to visit. It was a unique city in that all the buildings and structures felt so newly renovated--into a work of art. For example, I don’t know where else there is a ferris wheel in Japan, but there is one in Yokohama, and it lights up! (For those who have gone to Disney California Adventure in Anaheim, California, the Mickey Ferris wheel is what it reminded me of.) There’s a dock area near the harbor that is beautiful to sit and walk around, and the view looking out at the city is so beautiful, too.
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For any that have gone up to Hakodate in Hokkaido and seen its city view, I’d have to say I like Yokohama’s view from the Landmark Tower more. You get a 360-degree view of the area. For the first time, I was actually amazed at a city view, with all the lights and buildings. It might be that Yokohama’s urban planners, who mapped out how this city was going to look, decided to make things so that it would be easy to take great postcard-quality pictures. What’s more, there’s a Chinatown in Yokohama! Given that it was the last weekend of Chinese New Year celebrations, this area might have been more laid back and quiet on a regular day, but this Chinatown had all the Chinese food I was familiar with and looking for that day, such as meat buns (“nikuman”) and sesame-seed red bean desserts (“goma dango”). Among other things they also had a “Raumen Museum” with ramen from all around the country, a Starbucks, and amazing crepe, all near the Chinatown area. I personally was excited to see another Chinatown after visiting the one in Manila over winter break, and being quite familiar with the one in Los Angeles, this Chinatown did not let me down. Before going to Yokohama, I remember wondering what kind of a place it would be because I had always heard about it. It became “that popular place near Tokyo” to me, and now I see why it’s so popular. Although I only saw Chinatown, the Red Brick Warehouse buildings, and the Landmark Tower, it was enough to have me saying, “I love the place, and I want to go back!” ◆
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continued from p.5 enough to embrace a completely new culture, language, and environment, let alone be judged for what I am or, in this case, what I am not. Granted I know I am in a place where it’s not as bad as how Americans treat the foreigners in America. I just wish that I didn’t have to face this kind of adversity so often here, in a place that I love. Is there a simple black and white solution? Perhaps. I could learn Japanese as fast as I can so I can impress Japanese people when I say I’m not actually Japanese…in Japanese. So I can stand up for myself and look smart when people try to look down on me for not being able to speak, read, or write in Japanese. So I can really blend in and assimilate. If only this were a perfect world. I guess I should look on the bright side. At least I’m accepted somewhere, even if it’s not for who I really am. I was going to end it there, but…. In my defense, JET didn’t accept me as a candidate because of my Japanese speaking abilities. It’s because I have the qualities and experience that make a good English teacher along with the strength and individualism to survive on my own in a foreign country. I came here not to find a husband/boyfriend/soul mate or to be admired like a celebrity by adorning Japanese teenage girls. I came here because I want to make an impact on the lives of students and to share my knowledge of the English language and culture while embracing theirs. I am proud of who I am, even if it’s questioned by others every day. ◆ View more Words of a Melody at wordsofamelody.tumblr.com.
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A Brief History of
API AJET During the early summer of 2012, Albert David Valderrama (Ibaraki Prefecture, 2010) realized a growing concern. Some foreigners of Asian descent--his friends and acquaintances--were having difficulties adjusting to Japanese life. He wanted to do something to help but was unsure on exactly what or how. At the time, a Program Coordinator from the Council of Local Authorities for International Relations (CLAIR) suggested that he contact a representative from the Association for Japan Exchange and Teaching (AJET) about starting a Special Interest Group (SIG). Later in July, Valderrama was reunited with a former university schoolmate at the Keio Plaza Hotel in Shinjuku to serve as Tokyo Orientation Assistants for the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme. After several casual conversations about their time in Japan thus far, an idea was born. Hence, Asian Pacific Islander AJET (API AJET) began. While in university, Melody Wong (Okayama Prefecture, 2011) had been the Fundraising Chair, Internal Vice President, and President over a three-year period with the Chinese Student Association (CSA), as well as a Culture and Educational Program (CEP) Coordinator for Asian Pacific Student Programs two of those years. Simultaneously, Valderrama had been the Academic Chairperson for the Katipunan Pilipino Student Organization two separate years and a co-founder and Co-Chairperson of the Pilipino Studies Collective (PSt). The both of them graduated in 2006 from the University of California in Riverside having passed their torches onto succeeding generations of student organizers. After coming to Japan, Wong and Valderrama immediately realized that they had been experiencing a very different life than what the generic descriptions made people believe; however, even among the two, there was still a major distinction. The disparity was that Valderrama had been provided essays in the 2010 General Information Handbook and a specialized workshop during the 2010 Tokyo Orientation geared towards “JETs of Asian Descent.” This cultural help was unavailable beginning in 2011, when Wong arrived, and has not been reintroduced into the orientation process ever since, contributing to the concern Valderrama had had earlier that summer. Realizing that such aid was still needed within the JET community, and the foreigner community in general, the two cofounders decided to use their combined experiences to create a support group for the Asian Pacific Islander (API) demographic in Japan. They hoped to alleviate any stress and help people cope with any issues that might stem from being an API foreigner in a mostly homogeneous Asian nation. In the fall, the group started to evolve from a notion to an official AJET SIG. After speaking with an AJET Block Representative to get in touch with the AJET Activities Coordinator, the idea began to grow. In conjunction with help from a handful of other JETs in various parts of Japan, such as Aomori, Ishikawa, Yamanashi, Gifu, Mie, Shiga, Kochi, and Fukuoka, the concept gained more awareness and support. After the Mission Statement and Constitution were completed, National AJET approved the SIG in December of 2012. Thus, API AJET was born. ◆
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The delivery man came to my house today and asked me to sign the receipt. He looks at me, “Did you sign in English or something?” I reply, “Hai. America-jin. Desu.” He gives me a look like he just saw a ghost. It’s called being Asian-American. Desu.
When the Doorbell Rang written by Kay Makishi (福岡県)
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@API is a publication compiled in partnership with the Asian Pacific Islander Association for Japan Exchange and Teaching (API AJET). The views expressed by @API contributors do not necessarily reflect those of the API AJET Special Interest Group. All contents retain their copyright to the respective contributor(s) and are printed by @API under special permission. @API Layout & Design Š 2013. All rights reserved.