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Learning Japanese – Janice Lee
Mother decides we are to learn Japanese. It will better us,
she says. A teacher is swiftly procured. She lives in Block 48, two buildings
away, the wife of a Japanese bank executive, the mother of two small children, a
housewife. She comes over on Tuesday afternoon, at two. It is summer, and the
apartment is air-conditioned to freezing. Water beads on the windows.
Mrs. Yamazaki is petite and small-boned, like a quail or a Cornish game hen. She
has close-cropped hair and a soft, melodious voice. We sit around the
dining-room table. She gives us photocopies from a textbook and asks us what we
want. Mother wants to fit a whole year of Japanese into a summer; Min Hee wants
to be at the pool; I want us all to get along. We all say we want to learn
Japanese. We will meet twice a week for three hours at a time. Do you have
anything better to do? Mother asks when we complain. Yes, says Min Hee. No, I
say.
There is an alphabet, Mrs. Yamazaki says. Learn the alphabet. We learn the
alphabet. Actually, she says, there are two alphabets. Learn this second one,
too. When she returns, there will be a quiz. Mother gets a 100. Min Hee gets 53.
I get 89. Good, says Mrs. Yamazaki. We will continue. She says continue like
kon-tin-yu, with the emphasis on the first part. I repeat the way she says it,
under my breath. I like the way it sounds.
Maria, our Filipino maid, wants to learn Japanese too. I promise to teach her,
and one afternoon I do. After an hour she loses interest. I have to make dinner,
she says. She makes us salted cod and kimchee. We are Korean. In the past, Mrs.
Yamazaki's people invaded our country and treated us like servants. Mother says
not to hold it against her. Mrs. Yamazaki is foreign now, too. We live in Hong
Kong. We speak English to Mrs. Yamazaki when we are not speaking Japanese.
There is the Hiragana and the Katakana. The alphabet for Japanese people, and
the alphabet for foreign words. Typical, my father snorts when we tell him. I
practice the strokes and shapes of the letters. Goody two shoes, Min Hee says. I
hide my homework.
I'm fifteen, Min Hee screams. She is fighting with my mother. I don't want to
learn stupid Japanese. I need my own time. Get your own time, Mother says. Get
your own house, and your own money, and then you can have your own time. You are
on our time. She speaks in Korean. Min Hee speaks in English. We are learning
Japanese.
Min Hee says her name is Minnie. No, it isn't, says Father. That's the ugliest
name I've ever heard. Someone calls for Minnie. There is no Minnie here, Father
tells the caller, and hangs up.
Mrs. Yamazaki returns. She brings us Japanese cookies. We pour tea and eat them.
I can tell Mother is wondering if this is on the clock. Today we are to learn to
count. We chant the numbers. We learn them up to a hundred. At dinner Mother
asks us how many chopsticks we have, how many dishes are on the table, how old
she is. This is so bogus, Min Hee mutters. What did you say? Father yells. What
did you say? Min Hee gets up and storms out of the room. I count the grains of
rice on my spoon, ichi, ni, san, shi. I trace the characters on my lap.
Japanese are very polite, Mrs. Yamazaki says. She makes it sound like a rebuke.
There are polite ways of saying things, and familiar ways. You have to be polite
with strangers and elders. Min Hee tells her that Koreans have the same thing.
Ah so, Mrs. Yamazaki says. I did not know that. Please excuse me. I can tell
Mother is pleased that Min Hee told her.
Although it's summer, Min Hee and I have to go to Korean school on Saturdays.
The school is in an office building. On the weekdays, it is an office for
import/export to and from Korea. We cram into small rooms and have tests on
spelling and vocabulary every week. We learn about Yi Sun Shin, the patriot, and
the turtle boat. I hate Korean, Min Hee says. During the school year we go to
the International School, which is really American. I don't need to learn how to
write Korean, she says. At recess, she and her friends go down and smoke
cigarettes on the street. Don't tell Mom, she says, inhaling. I'll get you if
you do. Her friends call her Minnie.
There are actually two ways to count numbers in Japanese, Mrs. Yamazaki tells us
at our next class. Min Hee groans. Why is it so complicated? she says. And there
are actually four alphabets, Mrs. Yamazaki says. But we will worry about that
later. Rater. She pronounces later with an "r" on both ends. We will
have a quiz on the second number system next time. She leaves with some
expensive Fuji apples my mother has pressed on her.
I'd rather have a job, Min Hee says. All my friends have summer jobs. Your job
is to study, says Father. Study. I won't, she says. And then she starts to cry.
No one understands me, she says. What are you talking about? says my dad. I
don't understand what you're talking about. When I was your age, I was dreaming
about being able to study without working. You are spoiled. Min Hee runs out of
the room.
That night, I am tapped on the forehead. I'm running away to Kowloon, Min Hee
says. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. You're my little sister. She kisses me
on the cheek, and she's gone. The house is very quiet after she leaves.
In the morning, there is chaos. Mother is weeping, Father is yelling and his
face is very red. Did you know? he asks me. Do you know anything? You better
tell me or you'll get spanked. I don't know anything, I say. I know I can't fink
Min Hee out. Father gets on the phone because Mother can't speak. Her throat and
face are swollen. He calls Min Hee's friends and talks with their parents,
British, American, Indian. He speaks English to them all. Have you seen my
daughter, he asks. His lips are thin. He feels great shame.
In the middle of this, Mrs. Yamazaki arrives. Mother comes out with a wash cloth
over her face. We are so sorry, she says. She is indisposed, and we cannot have
class today. Mrs. Yamazaki leaves, but not before everybody apologizes at once.
Father leaves the house. Mother lies in bed. We eat dinner. Oishi, I say. Oishi
means delicious. No one pays attention to me.
Father finds Min Hee at her friend Holly's house. He goes to get her. When she
comes home, Min Hee is pale and silent. She goes into her room and shuts the
door. Father doesn't say anything. Mother sips tea. I study Japanese.
Mrs. Yamazaki comes on Thursday. Today we will learn about family, she says.
Otosan. That means father. Okasan. That means mother. We are learning about
family.
Back.
Back. Back, I say!
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