Fusion Stories - 5. Fragments of Japan (Part Two) by Guest Blogger: Andrew Eglinton

Continuing from Part One of his Fragment of Japan last Thursday, Andrew writes:

Surreptitious Snake

Summer 2004, sitting on the grassy bank of the Arakawa river, Tokyo’s impressive grey mass smoking quietly in the distance, when a snake decided to pay me a visit. Impromptu to say the least. I was expecting the odd sparrow, possibly a crow or two but a long, black snake had not been on the agenda. I’m still not certain what business he had with me, was it amicable or hostile? I think it was a ‘he’, the flanking maneuver he executed smacked of masculine fourberie. Though the female snake is also known for her guile. In the Chinese folk tale “Baishe Zhuan” (The Story of Madam White Snake) it is said:

“A young man encountered a beautiful maiden attended by a maid during a festive outing near a lake. He followed her and was invited to her fine mansion outside the city, where he dined and stayed overnight. After that one-night stand, the young man became visibly emasculated, his vital essence being slowly drained. The suspicion that he had been bewitched was confirmed by a revisit to the mansion – in reality, a graveyard. A Taoist monk was called in to perform an exorcism, and, sure enough, a white snake and an otter were driven out. Upon this skeleton, though, other elements were soon added to give it flesh and substance.”

(Whalen Lai, Folklore to Literate Theater: Unpacking ‘Madame White Snake‘ Asian Folklore Studies Vol.51 No.1 April 1992 pp.51-66)

To my knowledge, there was no beautiful maiden hiding in this snake and if there was she certainly didn’t invite me to her mansion outside the city because I cycled home afterwards.

Why do we fear snakes? Is it a visceral, physical repulsion to the idea of a flask jaw sinking into our flesh and injecting its venom? Or is it more psychological, the fear of a slow and impotent death? Perhaps the snakebite is a taboo, a deep dark desire and the chance of a flirtation with death. But it’s one desire I wasn’t ready to satisfy.

Ikebukuro Station, West Exit

Twice a week I used to help a volunteer group distribute food, clothes and medicine to the homeless population of Ikebukuro. We’d usually meet at the north exit, split up into groups and each take a wing of the mammoth station. At 8pm the tunnels and halls were full of restless commuters, office workers and secretaries, students heading for night school etc. The rhythm of that hour was intense. Here and there you’d see dark faces peer out of the woodwork. Men in their forties and fifties tucked away behind vending machines, concealed in alcoves, a community bound to the shadows. Many of them were victims of the economic slump of the 90’s, excess fat on a body that had grown too large too quickly…they were laid off in droves. I got to know one man quite well, his name was Kobayashi. He seemed to trust me from the beginning.

One evening I found him sitting in between two plant pots next to a row of drink dispensers. He’d taken his shoes and socks off, and I could smell the sour odor before I even saw him. We went through the drill, asking about any particular illnesses or concerns for that week before handing over a ration of rice and biscuits. He never seemed pleased or disturbed to see me, it was always in pure nonchalance that our exchanges took place and no matter how many times I corrected him, he was convinced of me being American. He’d been there once in the 80’s on company business so sometimes he liked playing the name game – that is naming all 51 states of the USA. On that occasion he didn’t say much at all. He complained to the doctor about chest pains and he was scheduled for a checkup in a nearby practice at the end of the week. As I listened to the doctor, my eyes turned to the flow of commuters. From time to time, oepole would stop to observe, I remember one young man in a suit who stood there shaking his head, I couldn’t make out what exactly he disapproved of, whether it was Kobayashi, the doctor or me. I think people were often curious as to what business a foreigner might have with a homeless man….

But the lines were very clear. In a country where children begin vying for the best position in society from kindergarten age, the pressure and energy that goes into reaching the top crushes those who happen to fall. I often wonder about Kobayashi-san, whether he’s still living in his cardboard cut-out. Perhaps he was lucky, perhaps he moved somewhere else. But I’m sure If I met him again tomorrow, he’d still think I was American.

And -

If you are thinking of moving to Japan, going off to teach or study, and you would like to know more about places and institutions mentioned in this article, then please do get in touch with me via this link. Thanks very much for reading - Andrew Eglinton

Written by Fusion View Guest Blogger: Andrew Eglinton

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To find out how you can contribute your cross-cultural story to the Fusion Stories Series, go to my post “Tell Us Your Fusion Story” in the Announcements section of the middle sidebar on the Fusion View homepage.