Sakura, sakura

Shinjuku last Sunday

Last weekend marked the peak of the cherry blossom season in Tokyo: already the cherries near my house are turning to leaf. the fleetingness of the bloom is one of its main charms: blink and they are gone, a reminder that everything in this world is fleeting, but that the wheel of nature will continue to turn, indifferent to our human troubles, its vitality a consolation.

The city's outspoken right-wing mayor, Shintaro Ishihara initially suggested that all festivities be cancelled in sign of mourning - it seemed unfeeling to be partying in Tokyo as Tohoku continues to suffer terrible hardship. This of course was not a popular suggestion, akin to saying "no chocolate bunnies this Easter" or "lets tell Santa Claus not to waste the reindeer power".  The final solution was a compromise: entertainments were cancelled at Ueno, alcohol was banned and bags checked in some parks (Shinjuku), while in others, such as Yoyogi, where I joined the AFJ picnic (Association des Français du Japon), the message of self-restraint seems to have been sufficient and there were no unseemly displays of public drunkenness (which would not have looked good on Monday front pages) nor many telltale red faces.

Today I continued the hanami  experience with  about 30 members from my Japanese-international women's group (Nadeshikokai) in beautiful Shinjuku park. As all our group activities had been cancelled for the past month, I suggested we get together for a little celebration. It was a great success and a nice way to lift everyone's spirits, which have been quite depressed - NOT because of Fukushima, but because of the terrible mess left behind by the tsunami.  It was warm (you can tell I'm turning red) and the Japanese as usual went overboard providing special cherry-viewing delicacies in beautiful boxes.

Saint Maur International School's fundraising for earthquake relief has entered a new stage as the "sister school" has been identified: Nakahama elementary school in Miyagi. Saint Maur relief fund now has a blog to update us on their continuing efforts. Mainichi ran a story on Nakahama ES's survival story - pretty amazing.

Fear and hope - the words of the wise

I can't resist the temptation of sharing some incredibly pertinent passages from my favorite new stoic philosopher, Seneca, whom I already quoted in a previous post (in French).

I finally cracked the covers of Letters to Lucilius, and have been delighted with Seneca's stoical pragmatism.  This is a book that has lived on our bookshelf at least 6 countries since 1993, when my brother gave it to my husband as a Christmas present (Seneca is "Sénèque" in French... so kind of a joke present) and never been read. I'm usually more of an escapist novel reader, but I had run out of reading matter, so I decided to give Seneca a try (I will read a cereal box if truly desperate). This is why I hate to give away books: you never know when you might get around to reading them.

Letter 13, on fear and fortitude, speaks directly to what we have experienced through this past month in Tokyo - and will continue to face, as earthquakes occur daily (a 6-/7 at 17:19 in Fukushima just gave us a strong enough rattle that I dived under the desk). 

There are more things, Lucilius, likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality.(...) What I advise you to do is, not to be unhappy before the crisis comes; since it may be that the dangers before which you paled as if they were threatening you, will never come upon you; they certainly have not yet come.  Accordingly, some things torment us more than they ought; some torment us before they ought; and some torment us when they ought not to torment us at all.  We are in the habit of exaggerating, or imagining, or anticipating, sorrow. (...)

And somehow or other it is the idle report that disturbs us most.  For truth has its own definite boundaries, but that which arises from uncertainty is delivered over to guesswork and the irresponsible license of a frightened mind.  That is why no fear is so ruinous and so uncontrollable as panic fear.  For other fears are groundless, but this fear is witless. 

Let us, then, look carefully into the matter. It is likely that some troubles will befall us; but it is not a present fact.  How often has the unexpected happened!  How often has the expected never come to pass!  And even though it is ordained to be, what does it avail to run out to meet your suffering?  You will suffer soon enough, when it arrives; so look forward meanwhile to better things.  What shall you gain by doing this?  Time.  There will be many happenings meanwhile which will serve to postpone, or end ...the trials which are near.  (...)

Life is not worth living, and there is no limit to our misery, if we indulge our fears to the greatest possible extent; in this matter, let prudence help you, and resist fear of trouble with a resolute spirit even when it is in plain sight.  If you cannot do this, counter one weakness with another, and temper your fear with hope...

Most men, even when no troubles are actually at hand or are to be expected in the future, become excited and disquieted... We let ourselves drift with every breeze; we are frightened at uncertainties, just as if they were certain.  We observe no moderation.  The slightest thing turns the scales and throws us forthwith into a panic.

La peur et l'espoir - les mots du philosophe

Je ne puis résister encore une fois de vous servir une portion de Sénèque, mon nouveau stoïcien préféré. 

J'ai finalement ouvert les Lettres à Lucilius que nous trainons de déménagement en déménagement depuis que Christian l'a offert à mon mari (Sénèque de son nom) pour son petit Noël en 1993.

Voilà ce que Sénèque nous apprend sur la peur, et pourquoi le sage doit apprendre à la maitriser. C'est à la fois frappant de vérité par rapport à ce que nous venons de vivre -- encore un tremblement de terre au moment ou j'écris ces lignes, j'ai fait une petite pause d'une minute sous le bureau -- et ce qui nous attend les prochains mois à Tokyo.

 Ce que je te recommande, c’est de ne pas te faire malheureux avant le temps ; car ces maux, dont l’imminence apparente te fait pâlir, peut-être ne seront jamais, à coup sûr ne sont point encore. Nos angoisses parfois vont plus loin, parfois viennent plus tôt qu’elles ne doivent ; souvent elles naissent d’où elles ne devraient jamais naître. Elles sont ou excessives, ou chimériques, ou prématurées. (...)
    Je ne sais comment le chimérique alarme toujours davantage : c’est que le vrai a sa mesure, et que l’incertain avenir reste livré aux conjectures et aux hyperboles de la peur. Aussi n’est-il rien de si désastreux, de si irrémédiable que les terreurs paniques : les autres ôtent la réflexion, celles-ci, jusqu’à la pensée... Il est vraisemblable que tel mal arrivera, mais est-ce là une certitude ? Que de choses surviennent sans être attendues, que de choses attendues ne se produisent jamais ! Dût-il même arriver, à quoi bon courir au-devant du chagrin ?  Il se fera sentir assez tôt quand il sera venu : d’ici là promets-toi meilleure chance. Qu’y gagneras-tu ? du temps. Mille incidents peuvent faire que le péril le plus prochain, le plus imminent, s’arrête ou se dissipe. (...)

    La vie n’est plus d’aucun prix, nos misères n’ont plus de terme, si l’on craint tout ce qui en fait de maux est possible. Que ta prudence te vienne en aide, emploie ta force d’âme à repousser la peur du mal même le plus évident ; sinon, combats une faiblesse par une autre, balance la crainte par l’espoir. (...)
    Représente-toi souvent combien la majeure partie des hommes, alors qu’ils n’éprouvent aucun mal, qu’il n’est pas même sûr s’ils en éprouveront, s’agitent et courent par tous chemins. C’est que nul ne sait se résister, une fois l’impulsion donnée, et ne réduit ses craintes à leur vraie valeur... On se laisse aller aux rapports ; où il y a doute, l’épouvante voit la certitude ; on ne garde aucune mesure, soudain le soupçon grandit en terreur.

Rien de neuf sous le soleil: l'espoir comme remède à la peur, ça devrait être à notre portée...

Donate to Saint Maur International School Earthquake Fund!

In the days following the earthquake, St Maur International School in Yokohama (my daughters’ school),  set up an Earthquake Relief Fund  which has already collected over 1.3 million Yen. The effort is being led and coordinated by a  teacher, Mr Morice, who has already travelled to tsunami-hit areas to assist with relief and cleanup efforts.

So far 100,000 Yen has been donated by school staff to Peace Boat (peaceboat.org), an NGO working in the tsunami affected town ofIshinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture. Peace Boat have set themselves the goal of feeding 500 people 3 warm meals a day, as well as helping in the cleanupof the local community.  Saint Maur also donated 3 huge cooking pots, kitchen knives and ingredients such as miso, soy sauce & dashi.

The objective of the fund will be to “adopt” a school in Tohoku (in the process of being identified) with which St Maur can establish a relationship – something that will benefit students from both schools and create a sense of connectedness and purpose. I was deeply moved to hear that a school in Pakistan which St Maur supported as its service project  last year reciprocated by sending a contribution of 200$: this demonstrates how direct giving enriches both giver and recipient on so many levels.

It is wonderful to see the children so motivated and busy devising various fundraising projects - the best possible  way of putting the trauma of the earthquake behind them and looking toward the future. Yesterday, for instance, they had a “free dress day” (i.e. no uniforms - usually a reward for classes respecting the "English only policy"), but this time they had to pay 300 Yen for the privilege of dressing in the red-and-white of Japan. The student council and teachers have many ideas for concerts, raffles, trips  to help with the cleanup effort, etc. Daughter #1 is representing year 11 on the earthquake relief committee, so I will keep you informed of the progress of their service efforts and what is being done with the money.

Details of how to donate are on the St Maur website

If you want to donate, but international bank transfers seem too complicated, contact me and we can try to find a solution.

Fear and flight, men and women

Four weeks after the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake, the mood in Tokyo is still somber. This was the worst natural disaster to strike Japan in human memory, and Japan is still in mourning. Tokyo at night is quiet: restaurants are fairly full, but close early, and no one is really in the mood to party. The news is full of images of destruction and stories of people in Tohoku painfully trying to put the pieces back together, with no documents, jobs, transportation or homes: their past washed away, their future inscrutable. If I find it difficult to watch these human-interest segments without crying, how much more painful it must be for the Japanese.

Many of the foreigners who  temporarily left Tokyo have returned - certainly this is the case of many families with children in international schools, whose exorbitant school fees have been paid up til the end of the year. Most of us would rather drink a tubful of water with slightly elevated levels of iodine-131 and cesium-137 than  home-school a cantakerous 12-year-old while living in our parents' basement.

As our lives  return to normal, we are still spending an inordinate amount of time talking about what we felt and did during that first fearful week, and explaining why we made the choices we made. In fact, it is pretty much our only topic of conversation when we meet up with friends we haven't seen since Friday 11th.  Some left, some stayed, some  followed their embassy's recommendations, some did not, some were spirited away by their employers, some had to bear the expense of relocating themselves.

Though our feelings about the choices we made are complex, one thing is sure: EVERYONE was afraid. As one friend, who works on the 50th floor and can no longer stand the seasickness-inducing aftershocks, said, "I've found my Kryptonite". The earthquake and tsunami were terrifying, and rightly so.

The gaijin (foreigners) who fled Japan after the quake were quickly nicknamed "flyjin", and a website, called flyjin.com set up to poke fun at the often highly dramatized, first-hand narratives of escape (not from the tsunami, but from shaking, panicked Tokyo) that have appeared in the foreign press. In flyjin.com's opinion, it seems, the only acceptable justification for leaving is "I was afraid" -- everything else is a smokescreen.

It struck me this morning as I read some of these stay/leave narratives that they were all written BY MEN. If you find one by a woman, please tell me!

The reason, I assume, is that we females of the species are more ready to admit we are afraid. And that the admission does not threaten our womanhood - in fact risk-aversion is expected of us. Conversely, however, when we struggle successfully to conquer our fear and anxiety, we feel less of a need to brag about it. Modesty is also expected of us.

Having spent the first 2 weeks after the quake in constant supportive email exchanges with other stay-in-Japan mothers (Japanese and foreign), I'd like to salute their toughness, courage and endless capacity for empathy: they provided moral support to their friends and family, ran their households, and kept up a cheerful face in order to shield their children from the mood of fear and anxiety -- probably the toughest job of all.

So thank you Masako, Shirley, Ana, Aki, Yuri, Mitsuko, Ines, Keiko and many others for being HERE when I needed you.

And let's have a thought for the brave mothers and fathers in Tohoku, who are struggling to contain their grief and fear for the sake of their children, and will undoubtedly find unsuspected reserves of courage and resilience to rebuild their lives. I have the deepest admiration for them.

Hair, music and bad journalism

On the train yesterday I stood in front of a heavyset young man in his twenties who spent the entire 10 minutes between Yutenji and Shibuya gazing at himself in the mirrored screen of his cell phone whilst making minute adjustments to his carefully tousled hair. It obviously took this young man considerable time and effort to achieve  a look that said "just fell out of bed, slipped on a trendy sweatshirt, and ran my fingers through my hair - but I'm not a hobo."

In fact not only Japanese men, but Hong Kongers are inordinately vain about their hair, and prone to extensive sessions of hair-adjustment on public transport, smoothing here, lifting there, so that they look like they have just stepped out of a wind tunnel or the chair of a demented hairdresser. Or maybe just stepped out of their Ferrari. Many seem to be emulating the hair styles of manga characters. A quick search of manga hair online suggested one explanation: manga characters have similar eyes and so hairstyle is a way to differentiate characters. It is one of the pleasures of Tokyo public transport to observe the infinite creativity of male hairdressing at work in Asia.
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Last night I returned  to choir practic eafter a long hiatus, and what a joy it was to sing for two hours! Most members of the British Embassy Choir were present, as far as I could tell - that was very cheering. Our choir director Steven is an exceptional teacher who and explains so clearly why we should interpret the music in a certain way, while sharing his deep musicological knowledge - its like a lecture/practice. We have been working on Bach's Mass in B minor, which I sang last year in Hong Kong and so  I am liberated from the stress of sight-singing (I am atrocious at it) and free to simply appreciate the amazing complexity and beauty of the music. Unfortunately we lost too much time to be able to perform the entire Mass as planned in June, and will therefore present only parts of it along with some short pieces by Haydn, Schutz and a couple more obscure baroque composers. More when we have dates for our charity concert.
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Reading news coverage of Japan over the last few weeks has revealed the truly atrocious  level of much of what passes for journalism. To be fair, journalists are under pressure to submit a lot of copy at short deadlines, so do not always have time for in-depth research. But sometimes they are simply lazy, stupid and attention-grabbing.

I was delighted to find that someone had set up this Journalist Wall of Shame, which lists some of the most egregious violations of the "fair and unbiased" code. These are ranked by severity on a scale from one to ten :

1 - 2: Probably unintentional, and based on bad info that seemed legit
3 - 4: Not malicious, just misunderstanding of the situation
5 - 6: Reporting without checking easily-confirmed facts; lazy as opposed to malicious OR just dumb fluff piece using human tragedy as a background
7 - 8: No fact checking; printing rumours as fact; sensational story more important than actual truth
9 : Fear mongering
10 : Hysterical fear-mongering along with racial/cultural/political bias
11 : Satan

My peeve of the week was an opinion piece on Slate.fr by Jacques Attali, a respected French economist, former head of the EBRD, former "sherpa" to François Mitterand. I was happy to find an forum where I could publicly excoriate him. I ranked it an 8. Obviously, he is more comfortable with numbers above 10⁶ than below 10^-6 . This just goes to show that even intellectuals can be intellectually lazy.

I'll also take advantage of this opportunity to point out that the French government (which Mr Attali served during the 1980s - the sinking of the Rainbow Warrior was in 1985) argued that nuclear testing in Polynesia similarly posed no health risk to  populations nearby because the amounts of radioactivity, though "higher than normal", were still well below the levels considered dangerous to human health. This is exactly what the Japanese government and many experts have been saying: dangerous to plant workers, probably a disaster for the immediate area around Fukushima, but not for Tokyo. the Australians and New Zealanders at the time were not persuaded by the French arguments and there was considerable diplomatic tension as a result (I worked at the French embassy in Canberra in 1993 - so I remember...). Similarly, I suppose, many outside Japan believe the information provided by the Japanese government cannot be trusted. But for someone with Attali's resumé to take the high moral ground on this issue is highly disingenuous.

There, I got it off my chest, and need not bring it up again. Pace, French friends, I love you dearly.

Les vertus de l'incertitude

Le mot d’ordre actuel au Japon est “gambarimasu”... Un verbe intraduisible constitué d’un mélange tout japonais de stoicisme, résignation et volonté. J’ai passé une heure ce matin à regarder des reportages en provenance des régions sinistrées sur un de ces morning show à la japonaise (un talento habillé en dandy anglais, un professeur au cheveux longs, une jeune et jolie journaliste dans un cadre de fausse cuisine d'une  laideur à couper le souffle). 

 C’est rageant d’être assis a Tokyo sans rien pouvoir faire: j’ai envie de sauter dans un train et d’aider une vielle dame à déblayer la boue et les ordures de sa maison. Mais sans vraiment lire le japonais, aucune idée de comment m’y prendre. A investiguer.

Les filles ont repris le chemin de l’école ce matin (à contre-cœur – les vacances c’était mieux), et je peux finalement me remettre un peu au travail sur le magnum opus ( le dictionnaire du chanoyu, pas le blog!).

Une semaine en Australie m’a fait le plus grand bien. Soleil, plage, chaleur, un peu de culture à Melbourne, des retrouvailles avec mon amie Jeanie (un petit soleil à elle toute seule), et pour ma grande des perspectives d’avenir (filière graphisme) qui l’aideront, j’espère, à tenir le coup encore un an dans une école ou elle peine à s’intégrer (avis aux parents: évitez de déplacer vos enfants en 1ere – difficile de se refaire sa place!)

Je ne suis pas trop soucieuse par rapport à notre alimentation (je pars du principe que les japonais sont encore plus inquiets que moi, donc je n’ai qu’a les imiter), mais j’attend les retombées politiques: il y a eu un manque de décision tout a fait impardonnable, par exemple pour débloquer des réserves de fuel et d’essence pour les régions sinistrées, une opposition LDP qui a fait obstruction au budget... Le peuple japonais est admirable, mais il devrait arreter un peu de “gaman-suru” sa classe politique.  Il mérite mieux.

Le “waiting game” va sans doute continuer quelques mois encore du coté de Fukushima, et le problème énergétique perdurera sans doute aussi . Actuellement tout le monde fait preuve de civisme (Selon le chouette "electrometre" de  Yahoo.jp, ce lundi matin nous sommes à 84% de la capacité maximale du réseau).  Mais l’été est beaucoup plus gourmand en électricité (climatiseurs) et l’état devra prendre des mesures plus décisives. On parle de fermer les grands magasins à tour de role un jour par semaine, limiter les heures d’ouverture, passer à un régime “nuit” à tour de role pour les usines.  J’imagine qu’un bon nombre de manufactures fonctionnent déjà avec des équipes 24/24h, je ne vois donc pas trop comment on peut éviter le rationnement.

La pénurie (toute relative) de certains aliments sur les rayons des magasins est en partie dû à des problèmes d’approvisionnement au niveau des emballages – plusieurs fabricants représentant des grosses parts du marché (des tetrapak pour le lait, des emballages pour le natto, par ex.) ont vu leurs usines endommagées par le tsunami ou ont dû réduire leurs activités pour cause de manque d’électricité, de difficultés à se procurer la matière première (des ports dévastés). On peut probablement s’attendre a des disruptions de ce genre encore un mois ou deux.

Marie, dans son email d'hier, a exprimé nos sentiments à tous bien mieux que je ne saurait le faire: "nos vies ont basculées vers un questionnement permanent sur ce que nous sommes et notre devenir. De nos certitudes sont nées des incertitudes, de nos confiances ont jaillies des peurs…"

Les CNN, BBC et cie font maintenant leurs choux gras de la guerre en Lybie. Là aussi, on focalise sur les images choc, et on oublie la tragédie humaine: les familles qui ont dû fuir les combats (beaucoup de ressortissants d’autres pays arabes), et qui se terrent chez eux, ou se retrouvent dans des camps, démunis, sans moyen de rentrer chez eux. On ne leur affrète pas des avions pour les rapatrier.

Pendant un an a Hong Kong j’ai travaillé comme interprète bénévole pour une organisation d’aide juridique aux réfugiés (appuyant leurs démarche de demande de statut de réfugiés auprès du HCR). Certains ne répondaient clairement pas aux critères du HCR, mais leur histoire n’en était pas moins douloureuse.  Je me suis demandé souvent ce que j’aurais fait dans une situation semblable (pour ne citer qu’un exemple: père et frère retrouvés égorgés, menaces voilées du responsable politique local, emploi précaire, pas de relations puissantes pour me protéger...): fuir plutot que de vivre sous la menace permanente, ou rester en espérant  que ça s’arrange? Fuir voulait dire supporter une longue et désespérante attente à Hong Kong, en vivotant d’une aide de 2000 HK$ (200 Euros) par mois. L'attente et l'incertitude, l'impossibilité de faire des plans d'avenir ou meme de travailler… les jours devaient être bien longs, nos clients étaient souvent déprimés.

Voilà ou je veux en venir avec cette digression: j’aimerais que le "questionnement permanent" dont parle Marie, notre état, pour certains, de réfugiés temporaires, nous incite à plus de compassion pour les personnes déplacées dans des pays infiniment plus instables.  Ils arrivent parfois sur les rivages d’Europe ou d’Australie dans de frêles embarcations et passent des années d’attente dans des camps. Ils ont tous eu des vies qui ont basculées, comme les notre à moindre échelle, ils ont fait l'expérience de la peur et de la fuite.

Excusez mon ton moralisateur aujourd'hui… Mais a quoi sert donc le questionnement si ce n'est de remettre en question ses certitudes et a tendre vers plus de vérité éthique, morale et humaine?