I wish the world would run out of hair relaxer

I wish the world would run out of relaxer

Some black women would die

That’s ok though.

We would have a parade

Afro-thickness would take over

WORLDWIDE THERE WOULD BE TANGLED MASSES OF KINK and true nappiness

The dreaded locks would abound and spread like disease.

 I wish the world would run out of chemical perm and relaxers!

We would burn Barbie at the stake and deliver our youths from burns, bad skin and balding

Young black girls would be free

Nobody would care about hair type A, B or C, 1, 2 or 3

It would all just be AFRO

Braided, plaited, weaved, locked, sewn, shown

Bought or our very own

Just no more relaxer

I wish the world would run out of relaxer!

Amagwinya, Food, health, randomness and a morning in my life

One of the first things I noticed when I arrived here is that food is very important to Japanese people. Japanese people may be impressed by a few things but give them a good meal and you’re in the good books! Japanese people also care a whole lot about what is in their food. This makes sense as they are some of the healthiest people in the world. When asking a teenager or a child how their food is, you don’t often get a reply such as “It’s bitter but it good for my health.” This happened to me when I observed a girl munching away nonchalantly at her Goya. Goya is one of the famous super-healthy super-bitter vegetables that Okinawa is known for.  Most teenagers would just not eat it, especially at school when their parents aren’t watching. They even more especially wouldn’t spend their own money on it. Perhaps I’m making assumptions, but you know what I mean.

I find it fascinating that there’s so much junk food all over the place though. Everywhere. The food industry in Japan is very big. A lot of people eat out all the time. Sometimes it can even be cheaper to eat out than cook for yourself. Depending on what you eat of course.  The fast-food industry is also on the rise. Regardless of this, not many Japanese people are overweight. Even less are obese. I’ve been here three months and I have never seen an obese person. And I live in Japan’s supposedly fattest prefecture, Okinawa. There is a lot of American influence here because of all the military bases and hence a lot of fast food and Japanese adaptations of American food and fast-food. I haven’t seen big sumo wrestlers but I’ve been told that they are large but mainly muscle-large not fat- large and very fast.
People here also exercise a lot. I can never tell how old they are but there are a few old men and women that jog at the Athletic Park every day and I am certain they could outrun me, even though they are probably way passed their 80’s. Almost all the children take part in sports and everyone looks younger than what they are. If you think a person looks 50 here, they are probably 80. If you think they look 30, they’re probably 45.

Yesterday we had a typhoon warning so they cancelled my English club and told everybody to go home. It was humid and rainy and I thought it was perfect weather to make amagwinya. I missed my mother. I thought about her the whole time I was making them. She usually does this in cold rainy weather and Oh what a blessing it is, indeed!  So at 5.30pm began making dough.

In about half an hour it was done. I left it to rise. I then cooked eggplant curry and rice and unidentified fish from the local supermarket that I was later to find out was commonly eaten in autumn (instincts though!). It’s been sitting in my freezer for about a month now.

At about 9pm my dough was ready and I began frying amagwinya to the sound of wailing wind and rain coming from outside.

 Well I was so excited that I had to give my landlord a taste. I went downstairs, saw that the lights were still on so I fetched their treat, knocked on their door and happily delivered amagwinya abo.

 It went something like this:

(Its dark, I’m standing under the outside light in front of the door, wind and light drizzle)

Me: Knock knock

10 seconds later their son opened the door. He looks 28 so he’s probably 38.

Me: Konbanwa!

Son: Hai hai Konbanwa! (Confused look)

(Meaning “yes, good evening”)

Me: (handing over the bowl of amagwinya) Minami Afurika dough-nuto! Tabetai!

 (Meaning “South African doughnut, eat”- in my broken Japanese)

Son: Aah, hai hai, arigato!

(Meaning “yes yes, thank you!”)

Me: Arigato gozaimashte! Bye!

And then I ran back to my apartment grinning foolishly. I love this place.

 I overslept this morning. Today is visiting school day.  I don’t remember hearing my alarm at all. I had an sms from my base school coordinator saying that the typhoon warning had been lifted and that we were to go to work. Perhaps I forgot to set my alarm last night. Being late is not good. I was very embarrassed. I sms my visiting school coordinator who then calls back. Now I feel even worse. Morning rush, traffic, school. My coordinator then tells me its ok she just thought I stayed away because of the typhoon warning. I don’t argue.

I’ve been waiting to give something to the people here since my presents from South African have not arrived in the mail yet. So I brought them amagwinya. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. (Imagine wanting to make something but you don’t know what the ingredients are called nor can you identify them in the supermarket because the packaging is completely different.)

First I went to Kocho sensei (The Principal) and delivered the gift. This always makes me nervous because I get confused with when and how to bow and how to deliver something to a senior. Should I bow? My left hand automatically holds my right arm and my knees bend (Zulu style custom for showing respect), I avert my eyes. Now I don’t know whether I should bend (with bent knees) so I bow my head a little. He seemed completely unaware. From what I now know of Japanese people I know he is completely aware. The gift is handed over, Kocho sensei remarks “Oishi” and I am saved! I hurry on out before further embarrassment.  Next, the staff. My coordinator calls everyone to taste. One of the older ladies kindly puts toothpicks on the treat so that we don’t all stick our fingers in there (how marvellously practical and well, Japanese) and people proceed to munch.

“Oeshi!”

I’m smiling.

Then people start to call their friends and whichever teacher is walking past our staff room to come taste this African snack. I get questions: Wow, how do you make it? How old are you? (Random hey?) Do you enjoy cooking? “Oeshi!” Did your mom teach you? What are the ingredients? This looks like one of our sweets. One tannie whom I just admire asks me to teach her.

I am positively glowing now.

At the back of my head is that South African beer ad, was it Hansa? The one with the old Japanese man at tavern who tastes the beer and there’s dead silence till he exclaims “Oeshi!” and everyone is happy afterwards.  

I am happy. I am glad I made the effort. I am glad I put smiles on people’s faces. I am glad my mom taught me how to cook, and to be proud of my culture. What a great beginning to a great day!

Meditations over Bibimba, a Korean dish

Tonight I ate Korean food, in a Korean restaurant near my apartment. I cannot recall what my dish was called but it was served in a hot bowl and remained hot until the end of my meal. It was mainly vegetables on rice, with a raw egg yolk on top that cooked as soon as I started to stir. The old lady at the restaurant told me to stir. She was the only person there who could speak English. It was lovely. I never thought I would call any meal that was primarily vegetarian and super healthy, “wonderful”.

I say this because as I was sitting there on my own I remembered why I wanted to move to Japan again. Writing a list this morning helped remember, yes, but the essence of it all came back to me as I was sitting there. For the first time in a long time I was alone. I wanted to be alone. I am very comfortable being alone, most of the time and sometimes I crave my own company. But I wanted to be alone in a foreign setting, to see how well I can adjust, to see what I would find from it. Not only to learn but to enhance my appreciation of the world around me. To LISTEN, SEE, SMELL, TOUCH, TASTE and FEEL GOD in a completely different setting.  I’ve been in Japan three months now and I haven’t quite been out exploring on my own. I’m always with friends and that is a blessing but somehow that makes me feel less foreign and more like I’m back home. Which is a good thing most of the time, and a good support network to fall back into.

As I sat there eating slowly, I started thinking of how healthy Asian people eat. I looked a people whose culture is hardly influenced by Western standards and admired the persistence of tradition and culture in a predominantly Westernized planet. I sat and thought about the growing obesity back home and my own weight and health issues that have been influenced by so much more than personal choice of diet. I thought of many many things. I listened to the music there. I assume it was Korean music since I was in a Korean restaurant but I’ll never know. It was beautiful, somewhat jazzy and slow. Romantic. It soon changed to opera. Ideal for a Sunday night. My thoughts ran away with me.

Some people stared at me. I could tell they were curious. A black face in a non- tourist restaurant in the middle of a suburb on a Sunday night. Alone. Let me clarify here that Japanese people aren’t particularly race sensitive as a homogenous society but rather all foreigners are just foreigners to them be it black or white. It’s just that since there are so many Americans in the country, especially here in Okinawa, they tend to think all black people are American. If you say you are not American they assume you are Jamaican. It’s rare for Africans to be in Japan. And since there are so many American military bases in Okinawa, most foreigners are expected to be American military, especially the blacks. I, on the other hand am an African English teacher, from Africa. South Africa to be specific.

 The hospitality was amazing, nothing short of Japanese standards. I felt welcome there. Perhaps I should add here that as soon as I walked in I recognised the waitress who no sooner exclaimed: “Sensei!” and went on to tell the owner that I was her English teacher. Besides feeling like I was on show all night, it was a good experience.