For reasons I’ve already explained, or rather complained about, in the previous blog post, I had a pretty late start to my CIP. I felt rather unmotivated by the time I first visited my CIP site because it had not been my own choice to participate at that particular place, but more of a last minute option given that half of the semester had already gone by without me having done anything other than writing polite emails and wandering around Doshisha campus hoping that a student sadoubu would welcome me. In any case, the CIP activity I am currently involved in is volunteering at a machiya called Kamigyo History House. After the very first week, I still had my doubts for I couldn’t exactly understand the purpose of the machiya. Of course, we had learned in our Japanese class that the city of Kyoto has implemented laws for the purpose of protecting and preserving the remaining machiyas, and consequently maintaining the status of Kyoto as the ultimate touristic spot in Japan. While it was obvious that the core purpose of this particular machiya was to provide information to tourists regarding the traditional way of life and architecture of an ordinary house from back in Heian period, its location made it hard to see the practicality behind investing resources and sacrificing possible profit by preserving the machiya. Sequestered from the busier part of the city by tall mansions and combinis, this machiya is quite difficult to find, especially for tourists. I myself got lost and walked around in circle for about half an hour within a couple of blocks of the machiya until a 日本人 volunteer came to my rescue. To my surprise, however, visits from Japanese tourists – some coming all the way from Tokyo – frequented whether it was their genuine interest in machiyas or the pouring rain that drove them to stop by. Moreover, the fact that it has not been commercialized like many other touristic spots in Kyoto meant that it was run entirely by the sponsorship from the private owner of the machiya and by the volunteers, who were usually old ladies incredibly knowledgeable about Kyoto, its history and its traditions. It has been interesting to observe how so many different players come together harmoniously for the sake of preserving a piece of the past. I have come to enjoy my time spent at the machiya, whether assisting other volunteers give information to tourists or helping the director with the various lectures and events, because I believe I have been able to witness one of the core values of Kyoto, and probably of Japan – appreciating the past and learning from it, rather than solely deeming it as old fashioned.
「KCJS 23 (2011-2012)」カテゴリーアーカイブ
Nathaniel Slottow : Parkour and Taiko
When I first attended one of Nagare Parkour’s training sessions, from the moment I stepped out of the station and saw everyone gathering in the park, I immediately felt like part of the group. Since the atmosphere was so much like that of my club back in Ann Arbor, I was able to feel at home. I think that friendly and open atmosphere kind of inherent in the attitude of traceurs (practitioners of parkour), as well as my attitude toward parkour. I attented a few jams, or large parkour gatherings. There were so many people that it was hard to memorize anyone’s name. At the second jam, one of the guys shared that sentiment and said something along the lines of, “isn’t it enough [for now] that we remembered each other’s faces?” That made all my nervousness about names vanish. The parkour world is full of some of the strangest and friendliest people in the world. I realized that’s no different here in Japan than anywhere else. Everyone attends to learn, to grow and to enjoy the atmosphere and each other’s company. I’m really glad that I was able to find a group, to continue practicing parkour with while I’m here in Japan.
Recently, I’ve mostly been training apart from the group with a friend that I made at the first jam. That relationship is probably the most equal of the friendships that I’ve made through the community involvement project (CIP). Even though I taught/ran the last couple training sessions we had, I’m learning just as much as I’m teaching. Being able to speak both English and Japanese, or the fact that each of us is learning the other’s language is a huge asset. It makes it a lot easier to share experiences, terminology, and ideas. We’ve even had the chance to chat via Skype a few times with another fellow traceur from Hokkaido.
As for the Kitanotenmangu Taiko Group, I feel like an honorary member. While that’s a good feeling, I think I could describe it as a very “for the time being” kind of feeling. They’ve been so kind to the three of us (I attend Taiko practices with two other KCJS students), so much to the point where I feel that sometimes they are over-accommodating. There are times where the leader will go out of his way to explain things in English without even trying to speak Japanese. There are some points that make it hard to feel like a true member though. The most difficult of those points is the fact that the group meetings are so infrequent that it’s hard to feel like we are really contributing or learning very much. I still have yet to learn everyone’s name. In addition, I actually haven’t learned very much about how to play Taiko, since the practices are for the most part run follow-the-leader style. All that being said, I’m looking forward to next semester. With every practice, we become a little bit more a part of the group. It’s not much, but every practice we help set and put away the drums, and I might go as far as to say that until this week, in that alone did I feel like an active member of the group.
This past weekend, Miao and I went to Kitanotenmangu to cheer on the group at one of their performances for the Fall Festival. We half-jokingly asked (in Japanese of course), “We’re not going to perform, right?” Well, to our surprise, they said, “Of course, we’re going to have you play the songs you memorized.” I think we were both half in despair and half laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Up until that point, we hadn’t even put the proper names together with the pieces which we had haphazardly memorized. I thought it was going to be a disaster. It turned out to be a great time and an experience that I will probably not find anywhere else (except in the next two performances in the coming weeks). They lent us all the performance gear, from happi to hachimaki and even took us up into the main part of the temple for the preperformance prayer. To have us perform the little that we knew somehow demonstrated just how much confidence in us and/or willingness to include us that the group had. And it felt good.
Overall, the CIP aspect of KCJS has been a very good experience so far. Ideally, the groups would meet more frequently, but as it is, I’m still gaining a lot and I think there is potential for me to give back much more in the coming semester.
IJay Espinoza: Doshisha University "soul2soul" Streetdance Circle
Being in soul2soul has been quite an experience. It’s interesting how, despite language barriers, mutual passions can bring people together. I’m pretty sure that thought has been published somewhere. It’s sounds too cliché to not be written somewhere. However, that doesn’t make it any less true. During my first time at a soul2soul rehearsal, I felt like I was back in America. People were being loud and crazy, which I’m quite used to during dance rehearsals. This may simply be a case of Japanese students interacting in a comfortable environment, rather than a performer thing because up to this point most of the interactions I had experienced with native Japanese people had been mediated by KCJS. Thus, those students were probably acting more “proper” to make socially acceptable first impressions.
As for actual practice norms, I found them to be quite different. First of all, as mentioned in my previous blog, the idea of streetdance and hip-hop dancing is different here than in America. In America, the two words are interchangeable and distinct styles are categorized as simply sub-genres of hip-hop/streetdance. In Japan, however, the genres are much more segregated with the term hip-hop encompassing its own separate genre, a genre that consists of moves that don’t fit into the other more defined styles. Therefore, practice is never held as a complete collective, but rather as smaller factions, in which all hone in on one specific style. This is different from what I’m used with my dance groups back home, where we’d cycle through different styles based on the interests of the group and the styles in which the current group members were particularly proficient.
The senpai-kohai relationship was also very interesting to witness. It would always be really clear when a senpai was nearby, for it was difficult not to notice the people around you essentially dropping what they were doing, so to speak, to greet a senpai with a full “ohayou gozaimasu” and a very prominent bow. It was also interesting how, many times, I would be greeted the same way, especially since I wasn’t really quite uchi to the many of the members who greeted me that way as well.
Moving from soto to uchi, I’ve noticed, is far more difficult than I expected. I don’t fully feel that I have quite achieved that yet either. I feel like this has a lot to do with the disadvantages of being the new guy, especially among people who practice together over ten hours a week, as well as the language barrier which sort of enhances the difficulty of breaking the uchi barrier. I found myself at times unable to fully express my feelings in Japanese in an effective manner. The experience made me appreciate the extensive command I have over the English language. My vocabulary may not be as impressive as a typical English major, but it is definitely preferable to the frustrations of being simply unable to say what you mean or feel in the most appropriate manner. It also made me much more sympathetic to non-native English speakers.
Come performance time, I found that soul2soul was virtually exactly like my groups back home. Members would sit in the audience and cheer on their friends, and afterwards celebrate with picture-taking and a night out together. Even though I was not able to become as uchi as I had hoped with the group, I found that performing with them really made me feel like I was a part of something. Perhaps I had gotten farther into the uchi sphere than I had thought.
Adam Roberts: Kyoto University (KyoDai) Student Choir
As I wrote in my Japanese blog post, I decided to join the KyoDai Student Choir for my CIP. Having had sung in choirs for a number of years beforehand, I was excited to get back in touch with my musical side, as well as to become friends with Japanese students outside of the KCJS “bubble” and learn Japanese that is relevant to one of my interests.
As to whether or not I feel that I have become a member of the group, I would say that I am not sure that I have. This is not for any lack of trying on my part or friendliness on theirs, but rather the result of circumstances – I was not able to attend each of the thrice-weekly rehearsals due to other commitments. I feel that I did form a sort of bond with them, even if it was less a “true member” bond and more a “visiting participant” type of bond. In order to attain this bond, I made sure to participate fully in rehearsals I attended, as well as do my best to keep up with the technical instructions given – which occasionally proved more challenging than I had anticipated. In order to solidify these bonds further, I participated in cultural practices like otsukimi and giving omiyage when returning from trips in Okayama and Shikoku.
One of the first things I noticed about the choir was how eager some of the members were to greet Natasha (who also joined the choir) and during our first few rehearsals. Their patience with us was something I truly appreciated, especially when faced with a set of papers to fill out about myself which were replete with kanji I hadn’t learned yet! After the first week or so, communication became more difficult. I think that this is due to the nature of choir rehearsals. Usually the only person who talks throughout an entire rehearsal is the conductor – in our case, a junior nicknamed Pierre – and anybody who can quickly interject with a pithy comment. Because my Japanese isn’t quite yet at the stage at which quickly-interjected-pithy-comments become a viable method of communication, a great deal of my communication during rehearsals ended up being non-verbal. Written communication between the Top Tenor manager, Bibure, and I made up most of my active communication, as we discussed rehearsal dates and plenty of choir-related events.
My CIP taught me a great number of things – one of the most significant of which had nothing to do with Japanese at all. To put it clearly, I learned a lot about time and schedule management; not in the sense of making sure you get all of your work done on time, but rather in the sense of managing the things you participate in to avoid dead space in the middle of the day. Related more directly to the CIP, however, I learned that consistent and rhythmic participation can really help provide a foundation for potential relationships. One of the reasons I did not feel like a true member of the choir is because I attended irregularly, which meant that not only was I missing out on rehearsal for that day, but also I was missing out on any occurrences that might have furthered a sense of shared experience among the members. If faced with these sorts of situations again, it would be ideal to attend each rehearsal and a number of extra events; however, in the case that this solution is impossible, it would be better to set attendance dates well in advance, or very clearly state an anticipated schedule.
Looking back on my first CIP log, Fukai-sensei wrote “Before you visit, it’s probably a good idea to think about how long and how often rehearsals are” (in Japanese, of course). In order to get more out of your CIP, I would advise making sure that the baseline commitment for your CIP is not more than you can deal with. My CIP ended up being too time-consuming to be all that it could (and should) have been, which is nobody’s fault other than my own. However, if it is something that you truly have a passionate interest in, then do your best to make it work with your schedule in any way you can, because the personal and practical rewards will be much greater for it.
Natasha Gollin: Kyoto University Gasshoudan
For the past 2 months or so, I have been actively participating in the Kyodai Gasshoudan, or the Kyoto University Mixed Voices Chorus. I have been regularly attending practices twice a week and intend to appear in the annual winter concert on Sunday December 4th.
At first it was not easy—the other members had already learned the songs, so I had to catch up and learn to sing the women’s songs in Japanese. On top of that, the songs for the mixed choir are in Hungarian, which is far harder to pronounce or remember than Japanese. But I persisted, and with the help of some optional long practices, as well as the gasshuku (retreat), which was more work than play, I got a better grip on the lyrics and melody and now intend to sing in the whole concert. I still need to look at the sheet music at times, but I will work hard to be off-book by the concert! At first I may have been a hindrance, but I want to help the choir instead of dragging them down, so I have been practicing all-out. Other than giving it my all, stapling tickets to flyers, and occasionally sharing snacks, there is not much else that I can contribute, but I do what I can.
Through this choir, I realized that singing groups in different countries may share some essential elements, but are ultimately different. Until I joined an a cappella group in sophomore year of college, choir was always a class and not an extracurricular for me. This choir requires an extra time commitment, so the people in it tend to be super-committed to the choir’s activities, not to mention paying its many expenses. Also, like other circles in Japan, people tend to make this their main activity during college, while back in America, people would usually have other activities and choir would not be their main focus. Another difference: this choir has various customs that are, shall we say, different from what I’m used to. This includes various cute and sometimes bizarre nicknames (e.g. Nojinoji, Winter, Zukkii), having long announcements by people in management positions after practice, staying after practice to sing extra songs, and slightly offbeat exercises and warm-ups (such as lip trills and hip-rotating…at the same time). But I suspect that this is not the standard of all choirs in Japan: it is unique to the Kyodai Gasshoudan, a group with a long and distinguished history of excellence and quirkiness.
Being let into this group meant a lot to me. I know that there is already a precedent for KCJS students being in this choir, but even so, the fact that they welcomed me with open arms says a lot about their kind and open-minded spirit. However, that does not necessarily mean everyone is going to talk to me or be my best friend. In a group of about 80 people, it is hard for even native Japanese to get close to each other. Still, through different activities, I was able to socialize and befriend my fellow altos and first-year members, and now my closest friend who helped me from the start (nicknamed Christine or Chris) is even planning on sending me a New Year’s card, which is very flattering if you know how much it means in Japan.
From my CIP, I learned a few new words that I would never have known otherwise, such as gakufu (sheet music) and ensoukai ni noru (to appear in a concert, lit. “ride”). But more importantly, I learned that people will always be there to help me or explain things to me when I need it, so I should not worry and struggle through the music director’s instructions alone. Since they were there for me, I want to be there for them, and I plan to continue participating through next semester and doing what I can for the Gasshoudan.
In order to succeed in your CIP, do not hold back. Even if you are shy or not confident in your language skills, it never hurts to put yourself out there and try to make friends. There may be someone who is outgoing and interested in Western culture who befriends you first, but that is not always the case. So start talking with people, and of course, always do your best, because when your peers see you working hard, they will appreciate your presence and accept you as one of the group. Do not be afraid to ask questions, and most importantly: just have fun!
Michie Adachi: Zenryuji Nursery School
Hidden in the historic Gion district notorious for spotting Geisha and experiencing traditional Japanese culture, you will find the Zenryuji Nursery School. With Zenryuji Temple to the West and Yasaka Shrine to the North, it is located in a special place. Commuting here with fellow KCJS-er, Trisha Martin and being greeted by a sea of shining, smiling faces of the children at the nursery school every Tuesday was truly a pleasure. No matter how difficult my morning Japanese lessons, or how tired I was, the children, little bursts of energy, always refreshed me.
All throughout high school, I worked at an afterschool childcare program for K-4th graders, so I assumed that this Japanese equivalent would be rather similar. However, the differences were striking. I’ve never seen a group of such well-behaved children in my life. From putting away their backpacks to folding their clothes, these young children, mostly 4-6 year olds, performed these tasks with almost military efficiency with only a short prompt from their teacher. Before every meal, they wash their hands (twice!) and sing a song showing appreciation to God and their parents for providing the food. After every meal, they brush their teeth and neatly put away their chopsticks and other eating utensils without being asked. I constantly question whether these little creatures are human beings or robots!
My last meal...so yummy (and free)!!!!
After a couple of visits, I quickly became accustomed to their daily lunch routine and subsequent nap schedule. However, for about a month, Trisha and I still felt like outsiders. We felt as though we were an interruption to the smooth flow and efficiency of the operations at this daycare rather than helpful volunteers. And then, unexpectedly, the awkwardness dissipated. The other teachers started asking us to do small chores, such as clean off the tables and even plan little games to entertain the kids while their lunch was being set-up. The kids themselves also started treating us differently, approaching us without fear and freely talking to us as friends rather than foreign specimen. While the children’s strong kansai dialect and simple sentence structures challenge our language comprehension abilities, hand and facial gestures facilitate our communication.
My experience volunteering at the Nursery School has definitely opened my eyes to another side of Japan. Through the children’s eyes, I can see a picture of Japan that is not clouded by excessively polite speech and tatemae. I truly value their insights and being able to see how Japanese education and childcare transforms these little people into Japanese citizens.
[Update]: Today was my last day at the daycare. The children have a performance this weekend for their parents, so I got to witness the dress rehearsal…such organized chaos!
Brandon Syms : Assistant English Teacher
My experience with CIP has been excited, yet a little unfulfilling. I say that because although I enjoyed going to the school to partake in the activities with the students often I was unable to because I was scheduled on a Friday and it seems that many field trips and holidays fall on that day. I originally decided to become an Assistant English Teacher for my CIP because I was thinking of doing the JET program and I wanted to be sure that this type of work would be something I would want to do. I got quite a few other things out of the experience as well. For instance, I got an insight into the Japanese education system. The thing that shocked me the most of is how relaxed the atmosphere is while still managing to maintain the same structure. The teacher has a friendly relationship with is students and yet he still holds together this structure. The role I played was at first more difficult that I had expected. Not using Japanese with the Japanese teacher was strange to me. I felt as if it kept the students outside of the conversation. Something I realized about the English classes in Japan, is that it is taught in much the same manner that Japanese is taught to native English speakers. However, I still don’t quite understand why it is done in such a strange manner, yielding very few that are able to fully master the other language due to things like limited vocabulary and intense grammar. A suggestion that I have to offer to the English Education Department is to perhaps focus on two things, vocabulary themes (lists that cover all the words of the same theme) and more frequent speech practice. I understand that not all students want to learn English but with the way it seems to be structured, those who do want to learn won’t be able to do so to the extent of their full potential.
On a lighter note, I really enjoyed getting to know one of the classes, I remembered a lot of their names and they really enjoyed my lessons. One lesson in particular I really enjoyed because I got the chance to explain the grammar point in Japanese to the students. Unlike Japanese classes in America, English classes in Japan are taught in English at the middle school level. I can only imagine how difficult that must be to grasp if you do not understand the language of instruction. When I explained it to them in Japanese, they were more enthusiastic and they began to correctly use the grammar point.
Being a foreigner in that setting is also very interesting. Unlike adults, children are not as accustomed to foreigners since they wake up early and go directly to school where they socialize with other Japanese children and leave later to go home where they spend time with their family. So as a foreigner I at first felt a little awkward because I didn’t understand from their point of view why I was so astonishing. But little by little I grew very comfortable and eventually feeling more prideful able being a foreigner. For the most part Japanese children thing foreigners are cool and mysterious. So all the students are just very curious of me and about where I come from. I think in all, my experience was different. I am just glad that I got the chance to see what a Japanese school is like in a hands-on way. I’d recommend it but only if you can go more than once a week.
Nicolas Parada: Rugby with the "Freeks"
Kyoto “Freeks”
As I wrote in my previous blog entry, rugby has been an enormous part of my life for the past 6 years. Since high school, I have trained and played almost religiously, and with Japan’s growing notoriety as a great Rugby nation, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity of playing the game I love overseas. I was excited to compare my skills and knowledge of the game with my Japanese counterparts, perhaps improve my game, and keep fit for when I return to my team at home. These original goals were personal, and rugby oriented. While the CIP portion of the program is meant to help better immerse students in the language and culture of Japan and the student’s immediate community, I initially didn’t look at this opportunity past the point of staying fit and getting a few more games under my belt. After more than 3 months practicing and playing with the “Kyoto Freeks” (yes, it is misspelled on purpose…or perhaps not?), however, I have realized that my CIP experience has yielded some valuable experiences.
Kyoto Freeks is a men’s rugby club comprised of mostly men in their 30’s. There are a few younger, and quite a few older, but all are working adult men. My friend Garrett (also from Amherst, studying in the Nichibun program) and I were the youngest members of the team. Most of the players on the team have extensive rugby experience, and while Japanese ruggers aren’t known for their size, I could definitely tell that many of the guys had been playing since middle school.
The first few weeks of practice consisted of joint sessions of the Freeks and the Doshisha High School Rugby Football Club at the high school grounds. Perhaps the first thing I noticed was the absolutely horrid condition of the field. The last time I played rugby was on the lush, soft, green fields of Massachusetts, offering a gentle cushion when being slammed into the ground by the opposition. But here, at my first practice, I looked upon a rectangular patch of sand. Not dirt. Dirt would suggest that there might have once been grass here, or that grass could foreseeably grow again in the future. Underneath the top layer of coarse sand was hard, unyielding, packed earth. I heard from a team member early on that the only other foreign player on the team was out for the season because he had snapped his collarbone simply falling over on the concrete-like pitch. To my surprise, these kinds of fields are the norm in Japan. The only fields with grass are larger stadiums style grounds that a reserved year round for match days. None of the Freeks or the high school players complained as we took the field, and I resigned to accept it just as they did. But I came to realize that the field was the last thing these players were concerned about. I’m convinced that if practice was held in a parking lot, they wouldn’t offer a single word of complaint. This was the first glimpse I got at the amazing work ethic of Japanese players, and as I would come to recognize, the no-nonsense work ethic that permeates all of Japanese society.
Something else that caught my attention was the unexpectedly clean standard of play I saw and experienced. Rugby is known worldwide as a rough man’s sport, full of hard hits that sometimes escalate into fights. But what I saw here was a calm that is rare in the states. There were moments where I thought a temper might rise to a boiling point, but the game always continued on without incident. It was refreshing to see the REAL “gentleman’s game” played as it should be. The referees were extremely professional as well, and all the players on both teams offered the referees the respect they were due. The discipline of Japanese players is second to none!
Although it was difficult to notice at first, I gradually became aware of clear senpai-kouhai relationships within the team. Unlike on many American teams, where the better players receive greater voice and respect, the kouhai on the team were quick to carry bags, shag balls, prepare the field, clean up trash, and poor beer for their senpai during nomikai. It was difficult for me to find a place within these dynamics. As a guest and a (large) foreigner, I was deferred to with much respect by all the members of the team, despite my efforts to lower myself appropriately. Most players originally thought that my age was closer to 31, not 21, which further complicated things. Many players had trouble with their interactions with me. The language barrier was of course a powerful issue, but I think there was more to it. I have a hunch that part of the reason I was shown such unyielding respect was because my host father, a 60 year old senpai of the club and former Doshisha rugger, introduced me. 3 of the more influential players on the team were also very close friends with my host father’s daughter and son, which made their giri to my host father even greater. As such, perhaps they felt a need to give me particular attention. Yet, I think it more likely that the kindness and respect I was shown was reflective upon my gaijin status, as removed from their uchi group, thus requiring me to be deferred to with greater emotional/social distance. In the end, I decided to continue using humble language and conduct with all the Freeks members.
By the end, my team mates became more comfortable with using Japanese with me, rather than attempting to communicate in hand gestures and broken English. Though I sometimes had to ask them to use less kansaiben, many players started to joke with me and I really started to feel like part of the team, especially after games with all the typical hugging and high-fiving. My Japanese got a good amount of practice as well. Through exchanging emails with the team captain, communicating with players on the field, and even doing a couple of one night homestays with my captain’s parents the night before some early morning games in Nara, I got to use Japanese more and see more of Japanese family life.
It was a shame to have so little time with the Kyoto Freeks. Just as I felt I was becoming a real member, my time has run out. I hope to return to Japan on the JET program, and perhaps I will be able to pick up where I left off with my new teammates, or at the very least stay in contact with them and visit.
Anthony Shimamoto: Volunteering with the Homeless
My CIP of choice was participating each week on Monday evening by heading to the Kawaramachi Catholic Church to go on a night patrol of the streets of Kyoto in order the provide the homeless with tea, warm clothing, blankets etc. The number of volunteers fluctuated each week but generally there was around 4-5 members in each patrol. The three areas of the city that the groups would patrol through were Sanjo, Shijo and Higashiyamadori. The route that I most frequently traveled was the Sanjo route.
At the base of the volunteering organization are around 4 key members who come each week and who over a number of years have come on good terms with the homeless in the local area, almost always being able to recognize each homeless person by appearance and they always knew their names. Upon meeting the homeless the conversation would generally devolve into one concerning the living conditions and needs of the person as well as possible insight into any information about new homeless people who have moved in the area. These members were extremely thorough in their note taking and all three groups would convene together at the end of each patrol to go over the name of the homeless person, a detailed description of where they were found and a short summary about what was talked about. These members who were regulars each week also had a great intuition about the different locations that the homeless would find to sleep in. The most common spots being in the stairways to the underground parking lots where it was warmer and where one would be spared from the wind.
In general it was quite an enlightening experience being able to come into contact with the Japanese homeless population. The most part the homeless people that we encountered were around 60 years of age and always male. Perhaps the most interesting part of the interaction was the civility of the homeless when interacting with the church members. Often times they would reject items like hand warmers if they felt that they didn’t need them and one time a homeless man who had extra sleeping bags gave them to the church members so that they could give them to other people who needed sleeping bags. Overall working with the homeless was an interesting experience that allowed me to gain insight into a part of Japanese society that is often not very visible.
Ann Chunharakchote: NICCO Volunteer
My Community Involvement Project (CIP) is helping the PR officer edit and compose reports in English. Every Tuesday, I would spend 2-3 hours at the small office of Nippon International Cooperation for Community Development (NICCO) located in a machiya (Japanese traditional house) that serves as a casual office complex. The atmosphere therefore is naturally homey. NICCO is like one big family united by a common vision and goal to make the world a better place. Despite the fact that the people of NICCO are really warm and kind, I had difficulty feeling like I was one of them. There are several reasons why I am still an outsider. The first and most obvious reason is because showing up at the office once a week was not enough. Secondly, I did not share the same amount of dedication and stamina as the people of NICCO did. The people at NICCO are very serious about their work. Although we all sit very closely to each other in the tiny office, people do not make small talk or chit chat.
I have done volunteer work since high school, but I never thought about actually pursuing a career in this sector. Sadly, volunteering is a side-project not a top priority to me. The opposite, however, goes for the people of NICCO and I truly admire and respect them for that. These people would travel to countries such as Malawi, Pakistan, and most recently the Tohoku region to rebuild the lives of the disaster victims. But because my selflessness and passion did not measure up to their level, I did not feel like I belonged there. Furthermore, because the nature of my responsibilities did not require frequent interactions with others, I also could not develop deep relationships with my colleagues and the other interns.
The most interesting thing I experienced at NICCO was when I had to write two letters of apologies. One of them was an actual letter of apology and the other one was somewhat a different type of letter of apology. The reason I call it different is not because the NICCO staffs intentions were not sincere, but because we had to apologize to the person that had to cancel last minute. At least in the West, the party that cancelled last minute would be the party that is expected to send the letter of apology to the organization. But as I have learned from this situation, in Japan, if a person had to cancel last minute, it is because they were forced to. Therefore, in Japan, you have to apologize to that person for causing them to make a last minute cancellation even if you really had nothing to do with it.
I am positive that if my Japanese skills were advanced, I could contribute more to NICCO and also fit in to the organization better. Due to the nature of my responsibilities, and the fact that my supervisor can speak English, there have been times when I had to resort to English. I try my best not to, but because I need to make sure that I understand her instructions perfectly, I have committed the crime of using English during my CIP. Because my tasks involved public relations, it is crucial that I know exactly what I am doing or else the results may reflect poorly upon NICCO.
Nonetheless, my CIP experience at NICCO has been a positive one. Despite the fact that I never became a real member of the organization, the people of NICCO are perhaps one of the most caring and selfless group of people I have encountered and for that I am truly grateful.