Traditional Japanese Woman

A story about respecting the valuable customs, traditions, and lives of others.

   On a sunny afternoon in 1982, while riding on a sardine-packed bus deep in Japan, there was a very aged woman who boarded the rear side of the bus where I was standing. The short woman found her spot to stand just inches in front of me next to the exit door. I firmly gripped the hand strap hanging above my head with both hands.  The woman tightly embraced the door’s exit rail as the bus jolted away. The woman’s stop would arrive within moments. Other passengers aboard the bus were young adults and children in matching school uniforms, and women of various ages wearing long dresses or kimonos. Most passengers were clean-shaven men accompanied with sleek briefcases and neatly dressed in dark business suits.

 

   The atmosphere on the bus was very tense, conservative, and quiet; everyone seemed full of seriousness. I casually observed that everyone around me seemed to concentrate on a fixed object to stare at as if to mind their own business while patiently waiting to reach their destinations. For several passengers, I noticed that their focused object to stare at was my American appearance. Certainly, my nationality was given away by my high and tight haircut, my comfortable leisurewear of jeans and a polo shirt, and my hanging camera accessories.

 

   In those days, I enjoyed traveling alone with my Canon AE-1 Program camera hanging from my neck and my black camera bag strapped across my right shoulder. On my liberty days, I would neatly groom myself before starting out on exciting new journeys which would take me far away from Atsugi Naval Air Base where I was stationed for guard duty. Quite often, I never knew where I was going; however, it was such a thrill for me to explore the world of the unknown. Many times, I would check into a motel alone to stay a night.

 

   The elderly woman sat her large, rectangular bag down on the floor in front of her feet. She wore a pair of wadaji sandals, which are traditional Japanese straw sandals. She was dressed in a color-faded kimono that appeared to have many years of service, as my daily wear of shirts and jeans had many years of wear and tear. I assumed that this was her normal and everyday attire. She did not wear eyeglasses. Although the woman appeared to be at a very old age, she seemed to move around quite well. The woman was silent and calm as she stood motionless with her head tilted a bit forward and her right arm securely wrapped around the sturdy, silver rail, which was slightly lighter in color than the high-piled bun on the top of her head. The traditional, waxed mage was secured with a comb and several hair-sticks. Occasionally, the timid woman would slightly look upward to glance out of the bus window as if to take notes of her whereabouts. Not once did she curiously look around to inspect her surroundings nor to meet the eyes of strangers.  The woman had never even noticed that I, an American soldier, was standing next to her. She seemed to be going about her normal routine business in her daily life.

 

   I remember the honored feeling that I had for the woman while I was in her presence. Standing in front of me was a traditional Japanese woman who lived through the era of bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and survived the suffering of her country many years ago during the war skirmishes between the United States and Japan. The woman had seen emperors come and go throughout her lifetime. I estimate that the woman was probably 86 years old at the time that I saw her on the bus, which calculates her year of birth to 1896. She was probably around 16 years old when the 122nd emperor of Japan, Emperor Meiji (formerly Prince Mutsuhito) passed away in 1912. Emperor Meiji supposedly wrote between 90,000 to 100,000 poems in his lifetime with only a small number published. This traditional Japanese woman must have been about 49 years old when the atomic bombs were dropped on Japan in August of 1945.

 

   More than likely, the woman could not speak English. Just as Native American countrywomen speak only their own language and know only their own ways of life, probably, this Japanese woman spoke only her own language and lived the only life she knew of. During the woman’s young childhood, she probably spent many glorious days in the company of her traditionally-enriched grandparents who lived during the reign of samurai warriors and shoguns before they were finally extinguished by the Meiji Restoration in 1868 to form a government ruled by democracy and politics.  The woman’s grandparents and great-grandparents must have told her many fascinating stories about the historical and political events that occurred throughout their lives, including the relocation of the nation‘s capital from Kyoto to Tokyo in the late 1800’s.  The woman’s grandparents may have influenced her upbringing to be in conformity with the societal beliefs and valued customs of the times. More than likely, the woman had been reared by her parents to live the old, traditional Japanese lifestyle as it had been for many generations, uninterrupted, before catastrophe struck and changed Japan's history in the war of 1945.

 

   I’m sure I was standing next to someone who was filled with many joyful, happy, humorous, and exciting stories of her time, yet, tragic, as well. Who knows the deeply traditional, interesting, and enriched cultural life she may have lived? There’s no telling what extraordinary events the woman’s eyes may have seen during her life-time. There she was, standing in her daily traditional kimono, just inches away from me on a public bus in Japan while in route through her hometown; perhaps, a town that can be described as a Japanese-style Mayberry. She probably had never driven a car. Many older Japanese citizens do not drive automobiles, since there is public transportation to travel practically anywhere they would like to go.

 

   The bus came to a stop. The woman picked up her bag then exited. I watched her slowly walk away as the bus departed. I remember the heart-warming feeling of respect and admiration I had for the woman during that moment, and a respect for her culture during a fascinating and historical time in her life. As the bus continued its route, I knew that I was quickly departing a brief encounter with someone special whom I would never see nor hear of again. Within seconds, the traditional Japanese woman had vanished into a place where I never knew I was. These unknown places existed all over Japan and I’m sure they still exist today.

 

   If you ever take a vacation in Japan, I recommend that you hop onto a series of trains and buses with a friend and let the transportation take both of you far into the heart of tradition. Observe your surroundings and the local inhabitants. Open your eyes and see this woman for yourself. Learn to experience worlds other than your own. Regardless of which country you visit, you’ll learn that even though older generations keep dying and newer generations keep rolling in, tradition proudly lives on. Tradition . . . it’s a stubborn thing that refuses to be forgotten. Tradition defines a person, a community, and a nation. It’s a proud heritage, as is my freedom and my American way of living. Respect the lives and traditions of others, as well as your own.

 

   If the Japanese woman whom I had seen on the bus were alive today in  2012 (thirty years after my encounter with her), she would be approximately 116 years old. Regardless of where she is today, I’m certain that this iconic woman continues to live on; perhaps, somewhere in an old, traditional-style village in Japan . . . maybe even quite a few villages throughout Japan.