Spring 1986 RAIN Page 9 Mr. Nayamora was one of several Japanese I met who could easily pull down a copy of Networking by Lipnack and Stamps. I realize that this group, and several others I meet with in Japan, are more confrontative than their American counterparts. I ask them if they only oppose things or if they also propose alternatives. The response from one person is, “No, why should we do that? We are against something, it is up to them to do it differently.” Later in the evening, I am off in a taxi with Jin Horikawa, a friend of Shin Yoshida, to his family's home. His house reminds me of the Japan from my previous trip. I sleep comfortably on the floor on a futon mattress under a large fluffy quilt. I w^e early and sit in the thin sun of morning looking at Jins' father's minature tree (bonsai) nursery, and then eat an orthodox Japanese breakfast consisting of a bowl of miso soup, green salad, rice, and a bowl of tiny white fish . It is the only time I've eaten several hundred fish for breakfast Sui Sha Mura We are off today, traveling inland away from Shizuoka and the great plain in which three quarters of the Japanese live, up to Sui Sha Mura, the waterwheel village. We pick up Reiko Takatsuka who serves as an excellent translator for the day. The farther we get out of the city, the lighter I feel. We are beyond the grasp of industrial Japan. We travel past steep hillsides terraced with tea plants, tiny lumber mills (for cedar trees), and two-block-long towns. Up the steepest hills there are small tramways that transport people and equipment to higher fields. We finally arrive at Sui Sha Mura. Hardly a major roadside attraction, it is at the end of a road. There is one large water wheel and buildings with two-foot-thick grass roofs. Jin wanders over to what looks like a permanent residence, and returns with Takei Usui, the owner of the property and caretaker of the waterwheel village. The village, really just three buildings, was started by a group of people, including academics in Tokyo, interested in appropriate technology. The waterwheel provides power to light the buildings. The main building is used as a retreat center for students from universities. Mr. Usui's family has lived here for over 200 years. They continue to farm the land, but sometimes in ways unlike their neighbors. The green and black tea they grow is processed in an “antique” machine driven by water from the water wheel. After we look at the tea machine, Mr. Usui invites us to his house. The house, over 100 years old, is a treat Large beams, tatami mat floors. We sit in a spacious, uncluttered room. Outside the open shoji screens there is an immaculate small moss garden with a tamed waterfall, and a pond of white and orange carp. We drink some of the freshly crushed tea and eat fish that looks like wood chips and tastes delicious, and a bowl of rice balls. Inside some of these rice balls are sweet and sour plums that could knock your socks off. We drive back to Shizuoka in the late afternoon and meet again with Mr. Nayamora. Apparently we are meeting again on his request so that we can drive to a cloth dying business that a friend operates, where he can present me with a gift. This is like the old Japan; in fact, I have a strong sense of deja vu. In my previous trip to Japan I was driven somewhere to choose a present, and on many occasions found myself accepting gifts from people I had only known for two or three hours. Chubu Recycle Movement After Shizuoka, I travel on to Nagoya to meet members of the Chubu Recycle Movement. On this trip the language barrier becomes more of a problem. My inability to speak Japanese, hardly noticed in Tokyo, is a sizable problem here. As in Shizuoka, I am followed by translators. At the Chubu Recycle office I meet Yohiyuki Hagaiwara, the director, and Keiko Nakagawa, the magazine editor. We tiy our best to communicate. Once again the organization scrapbook is there to rescue us, and on the shelf a copy of Lipnack and Stamps Networking book. After tiring of our language barrier, I return to my hotel. But not giving up, within an hour, Hagaiwara and Nakagawa come to the hotel with Junko Yamanaka, an English teacher at a local college. We talk rapidly for over an hour, covering many topics, and I notice we talk very little about recycling. Recycling here means you are involved in all kinds of things. Chubu has a staff of 11. Like Japan Recycling in Tokyo, they publish a magazine and sponsor flea markets to help people exchange used goods. But Chubu also operates a distribution center for oiganic farmers to sell their crops to consumers in Nagoya. Another program supports local craftspeople. While I was at their office, one room was filled with older women repairing damaged toys to sell to raise money for Chubu programs and other causes. Earlier in the year they sponsored a used book sale that raised $10 million yen ($46,000) for famine relief in Africa. After an enjoyable dinner with Dr. Asano, another acquaintence of Shin Yoshida's, a member of the Friends of the Earth, and the International Physicians for Social Responsiblity, we return to Chubu's office. Although it is 9 p.m. the office is as filled as it was in the afternoon. People want to work here. We all gather around, taking photographs for their magazine. With all of us working on it, the synergy of 12 people makes communication possible, even disarmingly simple. I draw lots of pictures in explaining the kind of work I do. My pictures apparently jibe with the description in the Networking book, as I get several nods, and pointings between the book and my drawings. By time Hagaiwara, Nakagawa, and I walk the mile or so to my hotel we have learned to communicate fairly large thoughts with a smalt vocabulary. The Other Japan
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NTc4NTAz