Some cultural thoughts

To prepare for Japan, I read books of culture, which offered rather useless information on bowing (turned out a head bobble sufficed), using both hands when giving or receiving things (rarely used), not sticking your chopsticks upright in your food (true but it does not cause real offense) and taking your shoes off (very true, even at the dentists! but there is no accompanying embarrassment). But, very little is said in how to actually relate with people and build relationships.

Britain is known as a low context society, people say what they mean, will not try and read your mind and certainly will not expect you to read theirs. Requests are direct, with ‘no’ being an accepted answer, for a mature self assured person. Much emphasis is placed on being independent, figuring things out for yourself before asking for help, and not being a burden on others. In the east, not so much. The Palestinians are forever overanalyzing  every word, they will try and read your mind and predict what you want/need. ‘No’ is not an accepted answer, it must be packaged appropriately. One must never accept an offer of drink/food while a guest, but allow the host to force their hospitality on them. Visits are begun and ended with pseudo-formal speeches of appreciation where each of the guest and host glorifies the other and puts them self down. “Wallah ghalabnaakom”  we have burdened you, ahlan wa sahlan, sharaftoona, welcome welcome, you have honoured us,  I could go on, I am rather an expert in these converstation oiling phrases. I liked the low contextness of the UK, it was a mental relief not to be analysed or have to analyse others. I missed the group solidarity and shared burdens of the East though.

This high context phenomena persists as you go east (seemingly passing over Malaysia though) in some degree or other. Except, the context differs. How to explain…. work in Japan has just befuddled me. I know to try and read behind the words (Palestinian brain), but I cant make sense of it, since I am not Japanese and lack the context with which to analyse what is being said/done. I therefore end up drawing conclusions that may or may not be true! Leading to a bit of paranoia (I am convinced that my boss hates me, he’s not said anything I just know). On the other hand I hate looking stupid and incapable, and like to at first figure things on my own (English brain too). Of course, I cant just come out and ask for help, that is rude and boorish (Palestinian brain)… I must present the problem in a compelling way, and expect the other to get it. Problem is, I really don’t like the effect such approaches have on me, when people present me a problem, and I know they are asking for help.. it annoys me, and it puts a lot more pressure on me than a more direct approach does, I find it manipulative (English brain). So, I find it hard to do unto others what I wont have them do unto me.. get it?

You see, what with me not being Japanese, your average Japanese person cannot read me! So we are both trying to read the other, and finding a stream of nonsense.. so we doubt ourselves, and then doubt the other. This exhausts me (and possibly them) making each of us even more wary of the other. So, the upshot is, I moved to a country which prides itself on solidarity and predicting, the needs of others, and coming from at least one culture that prides itself on the same, but have ended up more individualistic and self reliant than ever before.

 

The tears of an Otoko no Hito

I saw a Japanese man cry on Saturday. I had always thought that outward displays of emotion were rare here. I had always thought that a woman may get away with it here but not a man. So when I saw a Japanese man cry I thought I would melt.

He was not drunk and he was not a madman on the street. He was a performer in the Japanese play “a message from Gaza”. I attended the third showing. He was reading out letters from a man called Mustafa, I shall call the performer Mustafa-san. My Japanese is bad so I did not follow all that was going on. So I focused on the performers body language and the photos in the slides projected behind them. They all showed such passion.

Mustafa-san stood out. At the end of the play all the performers stood on stage. Mustafa-san was in the center. The producer made a speech, where the words Israel, Gaza, Palestine, Rachel Corrie and Vittorio Arrigoni were among the few recognizable words. I looked at the performers, and Mustafa-san caught my eye. His face was scrunched up in a grimace like he was holding back a sob. I observed the others, some looked studiously serious, mirroring possibly the connotations of the words of the producer, and some wore the standard neutral expression I have come accustomed to here. My eyes drifted back to Mustafa-san, and wondered why his cheeks looked so shiny… and why was he wiping his face with his Kuffiyeh? His shoulders shuddered as he buried his face a second time into that symblic white and black checkered scarf what an amazing actor! I whispered to my friend.

But he was not an actor, the producer told me later, he had visited Palestine. The play, the photos and the memories of Palestine and not skillful acting were behind his tears.

So there you have it… Palestine brought public tears to the eyes of a man from one the worlds most reserved and stoic societies. Palestine made a Japanese man cry.

Otoko no hito is Man in Japanese.