"Cliff, let's go night walking."
So says the father of one of my 5th and 7th graders. It's Saturday night, around 7:00, and I'm at a party at a local community center on the beach attending a party for the local kids and parents. He's fanning the flames around a pit that's whole roasting a chicken and cracks open his first beer.
"Now?" I ask.
"No, no. Later."
Japanese has random English phrases that pop up in conversation, such as, "See you!" and "Don't mind!". But I have to say, "night walking" is an awesome one.
The party was a big barbecue, with lots of chicken, beef, yakisoba, and beer. I spent most of the evening trying to make myself useful, but every time I asked if I could do something, I got turned down with the reply, "No, no, go play with the kids." I didn't want to play with the kids, but I think the real translation was "go speak English." So I spent most of my time skipping stones and eating. I wasn't drinking since I had to drive home, but the 'night-walking' dad kept urging me for at least an hour, saying they would find me a place to sleep. I gave in.
Around 11, most of the kids were gone. I was sitting with the parents when one of the mom's started admonishing me. I didn't realize it at first, because she began by complaining about junior high English teachers, and how all they teach is writing and grammar, but not conversation. I boastfully reply that I don't even teach the alphabet in my classroom, but only work on conversation. "Then what were you doing speaking Japanese earlier?", she replies. And she begins listing various topics of conversation I had with the kids that evening. She was kind of right, because some of the things I could have said in English. But what she doesn't realize is most of the kids don't even like saying 'Hello' to me outside of class, and I think forcing it becomes an annoyance on the person. *speaking from experience*
I got up and wandered around some more. When I returned, there was only the 'night-walking' dad and I realized it was about midnight. I had completely forgotten about our night walk and I wanted to go to bed. But then he handed me a flash light, a cooler box, and a spear. He was carrying his own light, spear, and net. He looked at me and said, "Is 2 hours okay?". I had no idea what we were doing and two hours was not okay, but I said yes anyway.
We were hunting octopus.
Or that was the plan. We set out on the beach, using our flashlights to scan the shallow water for any dark shapes. The low tide revealed lots of rocks that I climbed over in order to check the cracks. This guy had drank way too much and was wading knee-deep in the water, falling over every 10 minutes. There was one point when we had reached the end of dry sand and he rounded a curve in the water on his own. I was just wearing socks and tennis shoes and refused to go in. Next thing I know, he's out of sight and I can't see his flash light. Thankfully he came back a few minutes later. We walked most of the perimeter of what is called Miyagi Island. It's not very big, but with all the rocks and the slow searching, I would say it did take about 2 hours.
And no octopus.
He was really disappointed. Apparently this was his first time going out and finding nothing, but it was a lot of fun. When we got back, he said I could stay at his place. Most northern Okinawans are poor and live in a 3-room apartment. It's the same size I have and is a perfect fit for me, but I can't imagine it working with a wife and 2 kids. In one of the rooms, there were two couches and a couple of futons on the floor. It was about 2 in the morning. His 7th grader was sleeping on one couch and he took the other. I crashed next to the 5th grader.
The beauty of the futon is that a house does not require a bedroom. You can just lay it down on any floor in the house, and it's an instant bed. What I kept thinking about was how these kids don't have their own bedroom. They only sleep in the 'living room' at night. But there is a positive side. When I was a kid, I remember it taking me quite awhile to get up in the morning. Not in this house. At 7:30, less than 6 hours since our night walking, this guy is up and about. He gives one, "Wake up!", walks next to the 5th grader, grabs the futon, and sweeps it out from under him. No more bed.
