Sayonara Murata

If you’ve studied any Japanese, you have likely learned that “konnichiwa” means hello and “sayonara” means goodbye. WRONG! Konnichiwa is actually a mid-day greeting for people that you haven’t said “good morning” to and / or interacted with already. Likewise, Japanese people almost never say “Sayonara” as we westerners say “bye” or “see ya later.” Rather, they reserve the phrase for when one is leaving an environment and is not likely to return for a long period of time.

Below you can see pictures of me posing peace sign, Asian-style with my host mother Misako and my host sister Nami. You will notice that these are the same two people I posted pictures of months ago, and that there are no pictures of me with a dorky look on my face posing next to my host father or host brother. This is because, true to Murata family form, they were not around or willing to participate in my going away festivities. I find it fitting that things ended with much the same sentiment as they began. As I left the house for the train station, I saw my host brother Daisuke. He mumbled goodbye as he jetted off to meet his girlfriend. I didn’t say a proper goodbye to my host father.

Pictures lie. Things always look good in pictures, once people have had time to think of that funny thought to get them smiling, or put their arm begrudgingly around that hated coworker while repeating “it’s just for the Christmas card, it’s just for the Christmas card.” On my final night in Kyoto, my host mother and I talked for three hours in Japanese about life for Japanese women when the camera gets flipped off.

It turns out that lots of middle aged wives in Japan hate their husbands according to my host mother. At first I thought the choice of the word “hate” or “despise” was simply lost in translation, as I was well aware that Japanese families don’t use expressions of affection and love nearly as frequently as we do in the west. Nope, upon further clarification, it turns out that my host mother really meant “hate”. She laughed, the words coming out of her mouth as she scrubbed the serving platters from the night’s sushi. She was quick to point out that most husbands don’t cheat or act violent towards their wives; rather, the couples are simply “mukandoh” or have no feelings towards each other at all.

My host mother asked me if I knew the term “sexless.” Sexless in Japanese refers to a common situation in which male company workers are so busy with their jobs and their obligatory overtime on weekdays and weekends that there is no time for sex with their wives. She told me that this was a common situation for herself and many of her friends. She illustrated by holding up a strainer and pouring water through it. “Initially if you’re a wife you pour in lots of love, but, it falls out. See? So, eventually, you give up trying.”

One of my host mother’s friends goes as far as to not want to sit on the same toilet as her husband or go in the same bathwater. Also, this wife feels great stress when he comes down to the kitchen, and will often stand behind the counter and clean the dishes while he eats his dinner alone at the table.

Another wife from my host mother’s dog park was sick in the hospital and her husband didn’t even visit her. My host mom was quick to point out that this same husband in question visited his coworker in the hospital the minute he fell ill.

Indeed, my own host mother told me of times when she prepared huge meals for all my host father’s work colleagues and never received as much as a thank you. “Sometimes you feel like a slave,” she said.

I asked the only question that was swirling around in my head: Why do Japanese women put up with these situations if they are so unhappy? My host mother replied that if we were in America, women like this would probably get divorced without a second thought; however, Japanese women of my host mother’s generation choose to “gaman suru” or persevere instead of divorce. This is especially true if the family has children and a stable income and way of life. “It’s just the way it is. It’s the old way of Japanese women,” she said with a faint smile. “Maybe the new generation is changing - I don’t know.”

At this point my host mother’s throat was dry from talking, so the two of us shared a melon-flavored cream soda with a happy-faced cartoon watermelon on the front. We both sipped the foamy green soda in silence – there was nothing left to say.

B.E.W.