(no subject)
It's gone full-circle. I started treating my back in the wintry January gloom, having little magnets stuck behind my ears and being told we're all caught in a web of allergies that interrupt our body's healing processes. I've had acupuncture and told not to be too stringent about posture and that rain will make my back worse, told elsewhere that acupuncture could actually make things worse and that I should work on keeping my back straight, stretch and wear a corset. I've been hooked up to buzzing wires, massaged, heated, iced, MRI'd, drugged, palpated, questionned, elevated...now I'm reading about chiropractic theory and wondering whether a misaligned spine might be responisble for other body ailments, or whether I really am a hypochondriac. Simon says the bags under my eyes reveal a deep tiredness, and that it's utterly ridiculous to be 'rattling around' on the Trans-Sib, that it's 'hardly the Orient Express'. I guess he's right, much as it hurts to turn down such an amazing prospect for a trip. The dull boredom and easiness of booking a Virgin Atlantic flight, leaving the challenges of visa procurement, Vladivostock ferry booking, hitching to Fukui and planning how far into Mongolia to pursue the winds of the new...feels vile. The worst is the admittance that my body, for the first time, is in part a limitation, and no amount of situating my dualistic thinking will get past the sense of gloom that this heavy bear will be poking at me for life.
Chiropractics started in late 19th century America and has a similar history of battling for its sometimes kooky theories about spinal sublaxation as acupuncture and the magnets. In fact, magnet treatment was one of the alternative treatments in vogue at the time of the father of chiropractice, Dr Daniel David Palmer. He noted the improvements in overall health of patients having manipulated perceived irregularities in their spine alignments. Chiropractice remains largely the preserve of rich nations, being located largely in Japan and the US. It borrows techniques from acupuncture, incorporates massage, ice treatment and lifestyle advice, and it seems chiropractors adopt unique ways of doing things (in the same way as any medic, I guess).
Nao and Zushi have made me a nickname- they say they always think of me as 'Chariko' (the Charlie bit Japaneseified and the common 'ko' ending to female Japanese names. I felt really touched when they told me that. I'm going to miss them a lot- Zushi's laugh, his appreciation of fine food, Nao's innocence ('I only just discovered the UK has 4 countries', 'I don't pay for icecream, but you can taste anything you want at 31' (Baskin Robbins), 'you don't need tobacco but I like happa'). She's so beautiful and pixie-like, speaking excitedly of the abandoned house close to Comfy that they're going to move into, having spent the last year with 3 tatami mat's worth of space to themselves. Rent of 1.5 man a month- under 100 pounds, from a family who've built a new house but are desperate for someone to occupy and look after the house. Despite being very unique individuals, the two of them seem to display the best of Japan- an appreciation and love of the place they are living, considerateness and gentility, and an inquisitiveness about life and how to make it better, in mostly an aesthetic sense.
Leaving has begun. I taught my final classes at Ougio, where the 13 students had prepared (and probably rehearsed) a leaving ceremony for me. We usually start the day with 'English time', in the gym. As in all schools, when everyone sits together, they are arranged in rows of ascending year groups, one student sitting squarely behind the other, and the classroom teacher often kneeling at the back of the row. There was an order of events up on the projector screen, and the 'MC' was Takeru in the 6th grade, who I can never distinguish from Yuto. He announced each section in turn- calling different members for each task. Hitomi was to present the goodbye speech- she got up from her position with the 4th grade (thus reducing her row by half) and did the usual walk to the front, involving a series of wobbly 90% turns (these have been perfected by the time of the 6th graders' graduation ceremonies). She fished around in the speech envelope, which was a gaudy cutesy animal one rather than the ornate cloth pouch used by headmasters and council leaders for their own speeches, which are carefully folded and left upon a tray before the ceremony, during which the speaker unfolds his speech, delivers it and replaces it in exactly the same place, the spoken word becoming a tangible 'gift' that remains for I'm not sure what use by the institution receiving the speech. Hitomi's speech was really sweet- and it was a moment of real gladness that I have studied Japanese. She gave me the speech after delivering it, including a golden origami crane. It thanked me for having two years of fun English lessons, picking out a couple of things that she'd particularly enjoyed and improved upon. Don't forget us, ganbatte with your onward plans and come back to Japan to visit Ougio were the main order of the day, including a katakana English 'I believe in your future' which took some struggling to read. Bless her. Then there was presentation of a 'present of letters', a yellow hand-decorated cover containing a string book of letters from each kid, written on a template with space for a drawing and kanji squares for them to structure their characters. Plus a good dose of origami creations stuck to the pages. Finally the kids sung 'I believe'- like with many English-titled songs in Japan, the title is about the extent of the English content, but it was still very cute. I gave a rambling speech, with a light pressure of wanting to cry at the back of my throat, saying of course I'd never forget them and an urging to ganbatte with their English so they could come and visit me in the UK (slightly blank faces before a hesitant 'OK!').
I've been taken down memory lane to my send-off party at Bethel Preparatory School, Mr Tuffour the Assemblies of God pastor's private educational venture. After just three months of half day teaching there, I had a lavish goodbye party involving gifts of kente cloth, fried rice and fizzy drinks, bespoke song and dance performance with students dressed in traditional garb, dignitaries arranged in straining plastic chairs...the same standardised set up for funerals, PTA meetings and other formal events that I saw in the ritualised, ordered ceremony of the echoing gym in Japan rather than in the tree-root-broken dust under the palm trees of Kwahu Tafo's outskirts. I feel a real embarrassment at the disproportionate lavishness afforded me by the Ghanaian school, whose kids carry water to school on their heads cos there's no tap, whose parents cannot always afford to give them money for pencils, whose exercise books end up as toilet paper. I think about the meanings of these ceremonies, the relationships and impressioned forged and the perspectives of the kids, teachers and myself. And it gets complex. But, without going too deeply into these contrasts, I know that deep down I am not really needed in Japan, and in both cases my role is far from as a mere educator, although I'd love to strip away the differences of age, nationality, upbringing and wealth and communicate deeply....a pipe dream.
Chiropractics started in late 19th century America and has a similar history of battling for its sometimes kooky theories about spinal sublaxation as acupuncture and the magnets. In fact, magnet treatment was one of the alternative treatments in vogue at the time of the father of chiropractice, Dr Daniel David Palmer. He noted the improvements in overall health of patients having manipulated perceived irregularities in their spine alignments. Chiropractice remains largely the preserve of rich nations, being located largely in Japan and the US. It borrows techniques from acupuncture, incorporates massage, ice treatment and lifestyle advice, and it seems chiropractors adopt unique ways of doing things (in the same way as any medic, I guess).
Nao and Zushi have made me a nickname- they say they always think of me as 'Chariko' (the Charlie bit Japaneseified and the common 'ko' ending to female Japanese names. I felt really touched when they told me that. I'm going to miss them a lot- Zushi's laugh, his appreciation of fine food, Nao's innocence ('I only just discovered the UK has 4 countries', 'I don't pay for icecream, but you can taste anything you want at 31' (Baskin Robbins), 'you don't need tobacco but I like happa'). She's so beautiful and pixie-like, speaking excitedly of the abandoned house close to Comfy that they're going to move into, having spent the last year with 3 tatami mat's worth of space to themselves. Rent of 1.5 man a month- under 100 pounds, from a family who've built a new house but are desperate for someone to occupy and look after the house. Despite being very unique individuals, the two of them seem to display the best of Japan- an appreciation and love of the place they are living, considerateness and gentility, and an inquisitiveness about life and how to make it better, in mostly an aesthetic sense.
Leaving has begun. I taught my final classes at Ougio, where the 13 students had prepared (and probably rehearsed) a leaving ceremony for me. We usually start the day with 'English time', in the gym. As in all schools, when everyone sits together, they are arranged in rows of ascending year groups, one student sitting squarely behind the other, and the classroom teacher often kneeling at the back of the row. There was an order of events up on the projector screen, and the 'MC' was Takeru in the 6th grade, who I can never distinguish from Yuto. He announced each section in turn- calling different members for each task. Hitomi was to present the goodbye speech- she got up from her position with the 4th grade (thus reducing her row by half) and did the usual walk to the front, involving a series of wobbly 90% turns (these have been perfected by the time of the 6th graders' graduation ceremonies). She fished around in the speech envelope, which was a gaudy cutesy animal one rather than the ornate cloth pouch used by headmasters and council leaders for their own speeches, which are carefully folded and left upon a tray before the ceremony, during which the speaker unfolds his speech, delivers it and replaces it in exactly the same place, the spoken word becoming a tangible 'gift' that remains for I'm not sure what use by the institution receiving the speech. Hitomi's speech was really sweet- and it was a moment of real gladness that I have studied Japanese. She gave me the speech after delivering it, including a golden origami crane. It thanked me for having two years of fun English lessons, picking out a couple of things that she'd particularly enjoyed and improved upon. Don't forget us, ganbatte with your onward plans and come back to Japan to visit Ougio were the main order of the day, including a katakana English 'I believe in your future' which took some struggling to read. Bless her. Then there was presentation of a 'present of letters', a yellow hand-decorated cover containing a string book of letters from each kid, written on a template with space for a drawing and kanji squares for them to structure their characters. Plus a good dose of origami creations stuck to the pages. Finally the kids sung 'I believe'- like with many English-titled songs in Japan, the title is about the extent of the English content, but it was still very cute. I gave a rambling speech, with a light pressure of wanting to cry at the back of my throat, saying of course I'd never forget them and an urging to ganbatte with their English so they could come and visit me in the UK (slightly blank faces before a hesitant 'OK!').
I've been taken down memory lane to my send-off party at Bethel Preparatory School, Mr Tuffour the Assemblies of God pastor's private educational venture. After just three months of half day teaching there, I had a lavish goodbye party involving gifts of kente cloth, fried rice and fizzy drinks, bespoke song and dance performance with students dressed in traditional garb, dignitaries arranged in straining plastic chairs...the same standardised set up for funerals, PTA meetings and other formal events that I saw in the ritualised, ordered ceremony of the echoing gym in Japan rather than in the tree-root-broken dust under the palm trees of Kwahu Tafo's outskirts. I feel a real embarrassment at the disproportionate lavishness afforded me by the Ghanaian school, whose kids carry water to school on their heads cos there's no tap, whose parents cannot always afford to give them money for pencils, whose exercise books end up as toilet paper. I think about the meanings of these ceremonies, the relationships and impressioned forged and the perspectives of the kids, teachers and myself. And it gets complex. But, without going too deeply into these contrasts, I know that deep down I am not really needed in Japan, and in both cases my role is far from as a mere educator, although I'd love to strip away the differences of age, nationality, upbringing and wealth and communicate deeply....a pipe dream.