Dateline: Okinawa, Japan; September 14, 2010—“Oh that men would praise the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!” It was some years ago that I realized King David was thinking of me when he penned those words. Four times in the 107th Psalm, we hear those words echoed down through the ages. And each time they follow the reason for that praise.
Verses 17 and 18 say, “Fools because of their transgression, and because of their iniquities, are afflicted. Their soul abhors all manner of meat; and they draw near unto the gates of death.” With startling regularity I have found myself in this position and my first few hours in Okinawa I found myself once again harkening back to my favorite psalm.
The bus ride from Naha to Nago was pleasant enough. From evening though the waning twilight into the blackness of island night, we traveled on. How often I found myself out in the bush on this verdant island so many years ago, playing war games, missing home, swatting mosquitoes. Sharing a shelter half tent with my platoon sergeant, a Samoan three times my size. But every afternoon we gathered in the CP tent with the company CO, 1stLt. Cohen where he would break out the hotdogs, sodas and ice cream and tell us, “You don’t have to practice being miserable.” He was a great CO, the best I had from then on.
Back on the bus, there was room on the right side of the bus for the luggage but I kept my carry-on between my legs, wanting to sort through it and arrange things. Having left a few very important items back in Tansho, which my team had to bring to me at Harajaku, I wanted to be sure I was all together. The black bag my team brought to me I now placed on the seat next to me. But I had the best seat on the sparsely populated bus so I moved the black bag to my left (I was sitting next to the window) and slid it onto the floor next to the wall. Perhaps someone else would want to sit in the front seat to see the oncoming headlights. Starting to see the ingredients for a disaster?
When we arrived at the bus station in Nago I was the only passenger. Concentrating on counting out 2130 yen and freeing my large bag from the luggage compartment, I resisted the urge to look back at my seat. I had both pieces of luggage so why look? Foolish pride.
I was met and transported to Yayedake, the place of my stay and labors. I have a lovely room with private bath and windows on two sides so I can catch the evening tropical breezes. After a good night’s sleep, I turned to organizing my room and started looking for the black bag. How many times one can look in the same places for the same thing with the same results is only limited by the realization that this is all insanity. Then it dawned on me; the bag was left on the bus. Not only were my Japanese yen in the bag, amounting to about 50 dollars, but I still had 3700 South African Rand and 6519 Chinese Yuan in the bag. I was sick. Psalm 107:19 “Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, and he saves them out of their distresses.” Oh, did I cry unto the Lord. I don’t make deals or offer promises to my God. I confess my weakness, my waywardness and my wretchedness but then claim His goodness, His grace and His great patience. And again and again He hears me.
Dr. Higa’s wife called the bus station and after properly identifying it, the manager said it was indeed in the office. We went down right away and there it was. They wanted me to check the bag in their presence to see if everything was still there. With minor trepidation, I open the bag. There were the yen. I opened the small brown folder and there were the other bills. “Oh that men would praise the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!” Again it is confirmed, God is with me, I have no need to worry, even when I make such huge blunders. I offered the man 1000 yen as a reward but he firmly refused it. So good to meet honest people.
Back to Yayedake. The typhoon that somehow skirted the mainland of Japan a couple weeks ago did quite a number on Okinawa. They are still cleaning up the cyclonic flotsam. I suppose it is nature’s way of pruning the trees and thinning the bushes. If so, it did a thorough job this time. It hurts to see all the bunches of bananas shriveling on the ground, clinging to their toppled parent stock. But the air is fresh and clean and it isn’t nearly as hot here as it was back on the mainland of Japan although I am two and a half hours by jet further south. It may be a taste more humid but the breeze make it all bearable. When I run, it takes a couple hours to stop sweating.
We have about 14-16 people attending the lectures, some of them staff, some students. It is the same schedule we followed in Saniku and the students are just as interested. One minor drawback, one I experienced in Ukraine where my late friend and best translator, Bogdan Kruchmar, besides being a brilliant linguist, was a medical doctor. For some inbred reason, if your translator is a medical doctor, you begin a thought and they want to carry it on through biochemistry, gross anatomy and pharmacology, all while you are waiting to tell people it is best to chew their food well, or drinking more water helps cure constipation. I will say a phrase and they will intone a chapter. With Bogdan, I came to terms with his wont…after my sixth or seventh series with him. I am in my struggling phase now with Dr. Higa. He is a great guy and I have known him from former visits. He is a Japanese American living with his Okinawan wife here. Sometimes the subject matter is of such interest to him, he just leans back and listens. It takes some prompting, but he finally turns my cursive into kana, my babbling into intelligible facts.
There is a Japanese word I learned a few years ago reading the November 2005 issue of National Geographic. The word is “ikagai.” Perhaps a loose translation would be “sense of community” or “belonging.” But Sr. Higa, who is Okinawan, told me it is a concept best understood by the people of Okinawa. You see, the Okinawan people are very different from the Japanese people. No, the Okinawans are not, or at least were not, Japanese. Their culture was vastly different from that of the feudal, shogunistic, samurai culture of Japan. They were a peaceful people who treasured life. They have the concept of “nuchi du takara” or, “Life is precious, don’t waste it.” Their northern cousin’s idea of Kamakazi was antithetical to their way of thinking. To an Okinawan, hara-kiri would have been unthinkable. They believed they were to live first; everything else was subordinate to life. “Nankuru nasai,” they would say, expressing the belief that everything would work out and not to worry. With that mindset, they had no weapons and no army.
Okinawans were agrarian people. Yet they traded with all the neighboring countries. They were special friends to the Chinese, currying special favors from them. They did develop the art of karate, not as a Bruce Lee kick ‘em dead offensive measure, but as a form of defense. They also learned to use their reaping instruments defensively. I like the people here; they are my brothers and sisters.
A typhoon, which was headed our way, turned towards Taiwan, but the winds and torrential rains have left reminders of the power of nature. At night the building where I stay actually groans. Deep guttural voices from somewhere beyond the darkness. But it is mercifully cool at night and I have seen but one mosquito my whole time here. Soon I will be back on the mainland. Hopefully autumn has made some inroads.
God bless,
Don
No comments:
Post a Comment