November 3rd is Culture Day in Japan, and I had the pleasure of attending a community festival in the Fuse area of Osaka. Not unlike countless other areas in the city, and indeed across the country, hundreds of people showed on up on this balmy afternoon, ostensibly to get acquainted with the culture of their foreigner-born neighbors. Needless to say, most of the visitors were locals who lived in the immediate vicinity, including scores of elderly, young Japanese, as well as a variety of ethnic groups, most notably Korean and Chinese.
There were booths selling everything from exotic trinkets and ethic cuisine; to snacks and raffle tickets to win who knows what; and despite the ominous, gray clouds which threatened above, everyone was in joyous mood.
Not long after my arrival, I parked myself over by a booth where some Africans and their Japanese families had gathered. I began munching on some bar-b-q chicken, prepared by a colorful young gentleman from Ghana, who was yelling “Irrashi.. douzo!!!!” (C’mon.. step right up!) in a spirited and friendly voice that, for me at least, was hard to resist. Passer-byers looked on with mild fascination and amusement.
Suddenly I was approached by an older Japanese woman: Regal in appearance, stately attired, and sporting a black parasol which tilted gently over her right shoulder. She smiled and politely asked me (in Japanese) where I was from, for which I, matter of factly, replied the United States. She curiously inquired about “all the Africans” she saw busying about the booth, and what kind of work they did. She was surprised when I told her I didn’t know them; and had no idea what they did for a living, as most of them I was meeting for the first time. It was hard for the conservative woman to conceive a group of strangers fraternizing in such a way, an alien concept to the average Japanese it seems.
Stage performances were also a central theme of todays activities, and I particular enjoyed a group of professional Korean dancers who did a marvelous job of exhibiting a cultural heritage performance that left much of the audience mesmerized.
“This music reminds me of a Kung-Fu movie!” quipped a young Australian English teacher who, to my annoyance, did a pretty good job himself of TALKING his way through much of the performance.
“Don’t you think you’re being tad insensitive?!” I said half-jokingly. “What you mean??” he replied. “Well, if you lived in Korea, you might hear similar music playing in a supermarket; or in a barber shop, or while riding in a taxicab. Films borrow from culture, not the other way around.” I said. We both began to laugh as we continued to enjoy sips of African wine, and he conceded I was right.
"What’s the point attending a culture day festival if you can’t learn a thing or two about culture" I said.
Darrell Gartrell
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