In the Surf

Sitting on the beach, you can hear the waves roll in and roll out. If you watch them break, you can even feel the pull as they draw back to the depths of the ocean.

Sitting at work today, I can hear the waves of rain and snow lashing the world outside. Through the window watching the torrent batter the world, I can feel the wind forcing the sheets of water to its will.

Floating through life, we also experience the subtle yet undeniable pressures of waves. They may not always seem to be waves, but through ups and downs we are pushed along and pulled back with the power of our own will almost completely wasted.

Mrs. Hattori is an English teacher at Nakano Daira JHS this year. A strong and confident lady, she is a caring mother and the teacher responsible for many of the special needs students. With stoic grace she is holding her head high, as her wave tries to pull her out to sea. A few days ago, her mother-in-law passed away.

Mr. Uehara is also a teacher at Nakano Daira. A homeroom teacher, he is young and popular amongst the students and staff. The force of the waves are combining to push him along at an incredible pace. In the midst of preparation for his students’ graduation tomorrow, he was at the hospital this morning, to witness the birth of his first son.

Students all over Japan are ending their school year. With the pomp and circumstance ever present in Japanese ceremony, the students and teachers alike are being driven by the currents. For many, the high of the ceremony is quickly followed by tears as they depart, for the last time as classmates, and the first time as graduates. In turn, they will be driven way up again, as they begin their new lives at their new schools. And still younger others will ride a similar wave into this school, the currents spinning them in circles as they try to adapt. The teachers too are not immune to these forces, as many of them are swept away to other schools. The force of this, while not unexpected, is impossible to prepare for, as the announcement of which teachers are leaving does not occur until after the graduation ceremony. The pull on these teachers also rips through the students, and rolls wetly down cheeks.

Ken Sakai is a carpenter and a snowboarder, maybe not in that order. He is a light-hearted joker, and is one of my best friends in Nakano. Only the second time I met him, he gave me a ride to the train station, as I was hobbling my way there on crutches. Since that advantageous day he and I have gone snowboarding and skateboarding together; we have gone to the onsen and the bar; we have had barbeques and parties. My group of friends has grown from simply being his friend. The current pull on Ken is so strong, that the rest of us are being drawn along with it.

Ken’s mother is dying of cancer. He is staying strong, and keeping his head up, but the draw of the wave is pulling him back to his hometown in southern Japan, near Kobe. This is not a short term trip, Ken is moving home. As the sadness of the struggle that awaits him at home sits in his mind, the loneliness of leaving the life he has forged in Nagano must also be pulling on him.

Ken’s upbeat attitude towards things will be seriously missed by the friends he leaves behind here. It was with this in mind, and in his honour, that our friend Jun organized a surprise going-away party. On Sunday afternoon, close to forty of Ken’s friends got together for a barbeque. Ken thought he was meeting two friends and some girls for a Japanese style get-to-know-you mixer. When he walked up to the rented out bar, he was greeted by a wall of those who have been touched by his friendship. The turbulent waves of joy and sadness were visible in his eyes. The evening went on, and after the arrival of more guests, and the performance of a band, Ken took the mic to thank everyone. His words were few but grateful, and his choked back tears left many trying to do the same. Sometimes the waves don’t break so cleanly.

For me as well this is a bitter-sweet moment. One of my closest friends is leaving, and his mother is very sick. It is hard not to feel sorrow. Yet at the same time, I cannot forget the fact that I have such a good friend to make me feel such a loss. Looking ahead to what it will be like after Ken’s charm has gone, simply enlightens me to how much Ken’s smile brings to the lives of his friends here in Nagano. I cannot help but feel a little proud that as a foreigner here in Japan I have managed to carve out such good relationships. I feel that I am not just living in Japan, but that I am actually living Japan.

The waves continue to swell and roll, bringing smiles and tears. Afloat in life, we are all swept around by the current. The highs expose us to the lows, and the lows remind us of the highs. At the top, we cannot fear the wave crashing down, and at the bottom we must never lose hope that the wave will pick us up once again.