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The Autobiography of Brian Stables (Part 8)

Introduction

Japan

This is the eighth part of Brian Stables's fascinating and very funny autobiography, which is written in his own words.

Brian was born in Tickhill in 1929 and emigrated to Canada in 1976. He is currently serialising his life story for us.

He has also provided a superb collection of photographs to accompany his story. Click the photo for a larger image.

 

brian with aiko.jpg (7943 bytes)
Aiko and Brian Stables.

I settled into my new job quite well: There was lots of work and I found myself accepting responsibility for running the technical side of processing British Commonwealth forces in transit, Gillie Potter was my immediate supervisor and he just told me to “get on with it”, so I did it my way, which was a revelation. Indeed, for the Forces at that period; it was a revolution.

I had a staff of about thirty Japanese workers and it was here that I met my first challenge; that of unravelling the convoluted hierarchy as practiced in that place at that time. One chap who was quite low in the workplace ‘pecking order’ had, in fact, been a very senior Naval Officer during the WW2 he was now junior to another man who had been an Army Corporal. During working hours they obeyed a strict protocol in regard to seniority and after work they also observed strict protocol, only this time in reverse!

My chief assistant had been a pilot and was only saved from a Kamikaze mission by the dropping of the H-Bomb. It was mainly due, I believe, to this strict observance to correct etiquette that we all got along extremely well. I received a great deal of assistance from them, both in my military duties and also privately in my search for knowledge of local customs. They introduced me to the finer points of Japanese life and, happily pointed out potential pitfalls of etiquette in my dealing with both themselves and with the local population. They invited me into their homes; a privilege I discovered that was unique, as the Japanese normally held foreigners at a distance, (something like Tickhill, now I come to think of it!).

 I was instructed as to how I would be expected to behave once I visited their homes, the fiction being that the host would not know about this helping hand and therefore I would not ‘lose face’ by contravening some point of Japanese etiquette.

I remember a visit to the ex pilot, Nackamura San. I received detailed instructions on how to find the place, and I truly needed them, for he lived out in the countryside with no access road, and, for the final half mile there was only a narrow footpath threading its way through the ubiquitous rice paddy fields.

I stood transfixed with the beauty of these ancient buildings with their wooden verandas surrounding an inner courtyard which was laid out in the traditional Japanese, (Zen) manner. 

The first sight of his home was a disappointment to me, for I was still getting orientated to the Eastern way of doing things. I rather apprehensively approached, what I was sure could not be the correct house; for I had been given to understand it was extremely old, and was the traditional family home of a much respected and venerated local family.

All I could see upon my arrival, was a very large and rambling collection of what appeared to be a farm surrounded by walls of rusting corrugated iron and scruffy looking trees, all of which was enough to obscure almost everything behind them, it looked like a third rate junk yard.

 I soon found this to be a deliberate mood setting ploy: After being met at the outer gate by one of his daughters who, smiling brightly and having relieved me of my shoes in the entrance hall, ushered me through some bamboo and paper screens into what I can only describe as Paradise. The contrast between the outside and the inside of this dwelling place was beyond belief.

I stood transfixed with the beauty of these ancient buildings with their wooden verandas surrounding an inner courtyard which was laid out in the traditional Japanese, (Zen) manner. There were strategically placed stones set in sand which was raked into intricate patterns, resembling the flow of life energy, (Chi). There was even a small waterfall, cascading down to a small fish pond in the background. I was made so welcome, and I felt so spiritually ‘lifted’ just being in such magical surroundings that I just did not wish to leave when it was time to go.

Life in Japan was like nowhere else I have ever seen; even the army duties appeared more relaxed. Albeit, I was still kept very busy; perhaps it was because I was now employed in an administrative role that I found it so easy.

I was in the tub with Aiko when they all trooped in, stripped off and started washing, they began talking about the weather and the rice crops, all being translated to me and the girls parents...

I met, and took up residence with, a most charming and highly intelligent lady who challenged my intellect with mind boggling new ideas, and this I found extremely exhilarating.

I now began a period of self indulgence in a semi domestic life, which was structured in the Japanese manner. One of the first things to pique my interest was that the bathhouse reminded me of the laundry tub back in Tickhill.

This was situated separately and was shared with our landlord plus his family. It consisted of a small building with a large iron tub filled with water which was heated by a wood fuelled fire, the latter being accessed from the outside.

When this was working at full tilt a nice fog of steam would be generated, very much in keeping with the idea of a Scandinavian sauna. There were cold water taps with basins inside but these were only used for an initial washing and rinsing before getting into the bath, thus enabling more than one person to hygienically use the tub at the same time.

I remember being a tad startled when the neighbour, his wife and one of his daughters entered the room just as I was getting comfortable. I was in the tub with Aiko when they all trooped in, stripped off and started washing, they began talking about the weather and the rice crops, all being translated to me and the girls parents, by both the daughter and Aiko.

I soon got used to it but I admit I was a trifle nonplussed one day when I entered a public bath: The ritual was the similar to the domestic ritual, with everyone washing outside the main bath, (this public one was almost as large as a small swimming pool). We were in the countryside, far away from the main areas of East/West contact. I thought little of it until I got inside and people started coming up behind me and start to giggle, apparently my sun tan covered my whole body with the exception of that part covered by my swimsuit, thus leaving a section of my anatomy nice and white, Aiko just about had hysterics laughing at my discomfiture.

She took me to her birthplace of Hiroshima, or what was left of it...She had been close enough to ground zero that the heat from the blast imprinted the pattern of her Kimono into her flesh...

She introduced me to the Shinto and Buddhist religions and arranged for me to stay in a Buddhist monastery for a couple of weeks. She encouraged me to think in a different manner, and thus opened up my mind and stimulated my senses to a degree I had never imagined possible.

She took me to her birthplace of Hiroshima, or what was left of it, which was not very much.

On the day the A-Bomb was dropped she had been visiting a married sister on the outskirts of town. The rest of her family, who had lived nearer the center of the city, were all killed. She had been close enough to ground zero that the heat from the blast imprinted the pattern of her Kimono into her flesh down one side of her body.

She had taken training as a Geisha, (for those who do not know it, a Geisha is not, as is sometimes thought, a ‘fallen woman’), they are educated and highly skilled entertainers; they are keepers of traditional rites and ceremonies. Of course there are different degrees, and consequently, different price ranges of what each ‘House ‘offered, similar to the ranking of Hotels in the West. The lowest, were not very good at all, but the middle range, which was all I could afford, were quite reasonable, and very enjoyable. Aiko was not tied to a particular Geisha house and she acted as a ‘freelance’ professional.

To attend a good quality Geisha party was not simply a matter of going up to the door and asking for admittance, you had to be recommended, the procedure being that a group, in my case usually members of my staff, would decide to have a party and one of the number would be designated as being the person responsible, both for making the arrangements with the Mama San of the house, and also to take responsibility for the behaviour of the guests once the party commenced.

Prices varied by the number of guests, the type of entertainment, traditional or modern, and time required. A start and finish time would be negotiated, and this was strictly adhered to, albeit normally just before your time became due to expire, the Mama San would take the designated head of the guests to one side and tactfully inform them of the situation, generally, at this point, an impromptu opinion poll would be instigated and an extension organised, usually at a greatly inflated rate, for by that time everyone was having a good time and no one wished to leave.

I began to think I was the greatest thing since Casanova.. I was terribly deflated and totally mortified when I discovered the real attraction was the belief that a bald headed man was very virile...

Sex was a taboo subject if initiated by the guest; indeed all conversation had to be approved by the Mama san, any repeated transgression and you were banned not just from that one house but also from houses in the neighbourhood, it took time and tact to get reinstated.

What I found odd to my Western eyes, was that if one of the girls decided that she might like the company of one of the male guests for the night, she would speak to the Mama San, who would tactfully mention to the designated head of the guests that Miss So and So would not object if Mr So and So wished to keep her company after the party and perhaps for the rest of the evening; the guest representative would then approach Mr So and So and pass the message on, and so it would be arranged, with no direct words spoken on the subject between the couple involved, all very civilised to say the least.

I began to think I was the greatest thing since Casanova when I was the recipient of a couple of invitations in a row; I began to think ‘the word’ had gone around! (This was before I met Aiko) I was terribly deflated and totally mortified when I discovered the real attraction was the belief that a bald headed man was very virile, and by this time, my hair was thinning, and I was just beginning to show the first signs of baldness!

I experienced a couple of severe ‘quakes’ during my stay, my first one was accompanied by a Tsunami which wiped out a complete fishing village situated close by. 

Earth tremors, “when the sleeping dragons under the islands turn over” were more commonplace than I had thought they would be. I experienced a couple of severe ‘quakes’ during my stay, my first one was accompanied by a Tsunami which wiped out a complete fishing village situated close by. The army helped in trying to rescuing the victims but were not very successful; the Tsunami, (Tidal wave) which accompanied the ‘quake, had been followed by a huge avalanche of mud falling down the hillside and this completely buried the site, thus making the possibility of live rescue virtually impossible.

My second real ‘quake happened late at night. I was asleep in the lodgings I shared with Aiko. We were about a third of the way up a narrowly terraced and very steep mountainside, situated just below a tea house which was perched on top of a jutting rock, this being the place where many of the locals, (plus Aiko and myself) would sip tea.

Green tea, brewed with the aid of charcoal fired ‘Hibachi’s’ was served in the tea house in the traditional manner, and those gathered around would share a sense of solemn wonderment as they gathered together and silently watched the sun go down. Some of the traditionalists were a trifle perturbed on my first couple of visits, after all this was not a tourist attraction, and I was a foreign ‘devil’, but after a while they accepted the fact that I could be civilised, and upon my demonstrating that I was not about to disturb the tranquility of the moment, they made me welcome.

I remember that second earthquake very well, I was awakened by the floor, indeed the whole building, moving around; oddly enough, even today, I still do not recall any sounds, (such as one might hear in a movie about a similar disaster for example) it was as if I had been struck deaf, and, although things were moving about me, I swear I heard no sounds,

 I woke Aiko and asked what we ought to do about this.  “What do you think you can do about an earthquake?” she asked.  As I was clearly stuck for an answer, she just glared at me, turned over and started to go back to sleep.

The place was still rocking around so I gave her a nudge and asked; “What about those rocks up the mountain?”.
“Can you hear any rocks falling?” she asked.
“No” I replied.
“Then they are not falling, go to sleep”.
“No but”, I started to argue.

It was then that I began to see her point; if you can’t hear them, they are not falling; therefore there is no danger, and, if we were able hear them? Then, of course, they would be falling, and there would have been no time to escape! This was essential Zen, a pure enlightening moment. In any event the rocks must have been secure; after all, they had been subjected to tremors for centuries, and they certainly stayed in place that night.

As time went by, I became increasingly more and more uncomfortable. The rain continued steadily and was falling, mixed with blood, into my, (inverted) nostrils...

The next morning was a nightmare, my shoelace came apart, the chain on my bicycle broke, and it started to rain, I slipped and half fell into a rice paddy, I was late because my alarm clock was messed up due to the ‘quake.

I decided to climb over the back fence into the camp in order to save time and to avoid being seen, covered as I was by filth from the paddy. As I struggled over the top of the barbed wire topped fence, I slipped and my ankles became entangled in the top strands of the wire, I was held upside down and just able to reach the ground with my hands, but unable to get loose.

As time went by, I became increasingly more and more uncomfortable. The rain continued steadily and was falling, mixed with blood, into my, (inverted) nostrils; I was bleeding from some cuts to my legs, altogether a totally unhappy situation. Then to my mixed emotions, relief, in the shape of the Senior Warrant Officer of the Camp came walking by, I say mixed emotions because in the whole wide world the last person you wish to witness your infraction of regulations; is the one man designated to uphold them!

The camp had been badly hit by the ‘quake, some of the buildings had been cut in two and had settled with one half about two or three feet higher than the other, they were now true ‘split level’ configurations of what had previously been single level buildings up to this moment.

 It became clear why these places had been constructed in the manner they had been. There were ‘steps’ all around where the earth had opened up and then closed into different levels.

 He was doing an inspection of damage, he had been up most of the night and apparently I had been reported as ‘missing’, which, incidentally, did not cheer him up at all. He barely stopped; he merely glanced at me and said, “Good morning”, “Good morning sir” I managed to splutter in reply. He continued on his way but then turned to come back and face me, “I want you to know” he said, “I have seen some senior NCOs in some very peculiar positions in my time, but you take the bloody biscuit” he paused, “Report to my office at 0900”. He then turned smartly about and disappeared! A short while later a couple of lads with ladders and cutters came around, I just had time to get cleaned up and grab some breakfast before reporting to discover my fate. “I can only surmise that the earthquake picked you up and threw you into that position” he greeted me, rather curtly I thought. He then continued, “I am looking for a volunteer duty NCO for the next couple of weekends”. I can take a hint, “I’ll volunteer sir” I said, “I thought you might” he said. I had ‘got away with it’ - for a change, at last!

All things come to an end, and all too soon it was time to say farewell to my friends, pack my bags and embark on another troopship, this time for Malaya.

Read the next installment: Valerie Jean Stables

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Aiko with a shamsen.
 

 

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Last modified: May 10, 2010