Gaijin Be Gone!

It's like a spray that comes in a little can.

Those who know me will tell you that I am not very flexible, but I can pat my own back, when it really needs to be done.

So I'm going to take a moment to brag.

I joined a community taiko (太鼓) group last year in August. I attended club meetings about twice a week, every week for the best part of the year. If I missed it was because of inclement weather, I was traveling, or my ride or I had a work party we simply had to attend. We also went to the vast majority of the concerts and played almost every song, so we had quite a lot of practice. Not years upon years of experience, but enough to not completely embarrass ourselves at each event.

Last year there were three gaikokujin (外国人) (foreigners) who participated.

This year we have four newbies and me. Gonin gaijin. (五人外人.)

We have a concert on Saturday (in Aki Shi (安芸市), if you are in the neighborhood! we play at the city office at 10.30 AM), and today we had a pre-dress-rehearsal-rehearsal, where the sensei (先生) explained where we would each be for each song and what drums would need to be moved around. They settled important dilemmas like: should we take our bachi (撥)with us or should we leave them at our station for the next player to use? and Who plays the shime (しめ) during wuijin (ういじん)? Because it ain't me.

All of us whiteys (ワイーチス)(and one Chinese-Canadian) played the first number and then the teacher explained that due to our short rehearsal time this year, only the repeat members would play the next two songs and the newbies would please be so kind as to help arrange the stage. Pretty standard procedure for performance practice. Novices through sempai (先輩), there's a pecking order of sorts.

What made me secretly pleased was not that I was expected to play all the songs, but that the sensei several times referred to what the gaijin would do and what the rest of us would do, and for once, I was in the rest of us.

It sounds silly, because of course, I'm a foreigner too, and that is the only way any Japanese person will refer to me, no matter how close we become as friends. You're not an American, you're not a Canadian, a Congolese, or a Haitian; you're an outsider. There are only two countries, Japan and Not Japan, but for one rehearsal, at least, I was admitted into a kind of inner circle, reserved for people who had been there before. I am not the kind of person who insinuates herself into a clique, nor am I the sort who ever feels (EVER) like I am on the inside of anything, so it meant a lot to be grouped with the experienced players, the reliable performers, the sempai.

It made up for the fact that this morning a whole gaggle of school kids walked down the other side of the street pointing and shouting "Gaijin! Gaijin!" at me as though I am the stranger, even though I live here and they live in a different town. I tried to smile and wave, but mostly I just wanted to point and shout "日本人! Nihonjin!" back at them. Sigh.

Our concert is on Saturday. Please come. It will be outside and there is no admission fee.

Yo-oh! よーお！