The Curse of the Grannies

July 3rd, 2009 | 0 Comments | Elderly |

Sometimes it seems that my life is somehow inextricably intertwined with Japanese grannies/elderly ladies. In Japan, one’s grandmother and other old ladies are called “obaasan” (お婆さん) or “obaachan” (お婆ちゃん); while both terms denote respect and affection, the latter conveys greater warmth.

Lately a granny always seems to be somehow involved in whatever happens to me. A couple of weeks ago I was on my way to a very important meeting in downtown Tokyo. On the opposite direction was walking an obaachan who asked something to which I paid no attention since I assumed she was talking to somebody else behind me. It did not cross my mind that she might have been talking to me because Japanese tend to be reserved, especially around foreigners they don’t know. And senior citizens are even far more reserved; they generally prefer to avoid embarrassing a foreign national who might not have a good grasp of the local language; they may also wish to avoid the potential embarrassment of speaking to a foreigner whose Japanese may be unintelligible to them.

Be that as it may, as our paths crossed the lady grabbed my arm and with a gentle “sumimasen” (“excuse me”) she asked me about the location of some store. Since I do not live in the area where we ran into each other, I excused myself for not knowing and inquired as to whether she had any other point of reference in mind. She pulled out a scrap of paper that had a hand-drawn map and some very vague directions on how to reach someone else’s home from Nishi-Ogikubo Station (西荻窪). I explained to her that we were in plain Ogikubo (荻窪) and the she should have continued riding the train on to the next station. The Obaachan then thanked me and started walking in the wrong direction (opposite to her destination!). I caught up with her and told her that it was best to ride on the train once again and get off at the correct station. She asked if I was going to Ogikubo Station; I replied that I was indeed going there, but that walk was rather long (15 minutes at a brisk pace) and recommended that she take the bus. At that point she mentioned that she had been walking around for nearly two hours, which I thought was possibly true given the crappy map she was holding and because she was one of those super senior ladies who are in good health but who walk, on account of their age, at 10 meters per hour.

The obaachan asked about which bus she should take. I answered that any bus driving along the road that passes in front of the bus stop that was a few meters away from us. She insisted on knowing which one bus she should ride to the station. Because she appeared to be quite confused, I decided to accompany her. Once we got on the bus I explained that once we got to the last stop the train station would be right in front.

When we arrived I bolted out of the bus since I did not want any further delays. However, I made the mistake of looking back… Only to notice the old lady was staring into all directions with a perplexed look on her face. Instead of doing the logical thing (focusing on my meeting), I went back to see what was happening to the obaachan. She told me she could not climb the very steep stairs she was looking at to go to catch her train. I told her that she had to go to the station’s South entrance, where she would be able to use an elevator. At that point there was little choice but to escort her on her way to the elevator. That proved to be another mistake.

As we were walking, the old lady told me something roughly like this: “Mr. foreigner (外人様), please don’t think that I am senile, I am just very old and that is why I get tired easily; I have been acting confused because I am very thirsty after the long walk I took earlier”. And lo and behold, before my brain exercised its due control over my tongue, I offered to buy the obaachan some tea or juice. So we crossed the street and entered a small coffee shop, where I ended up buying some orange juice and sandwich for my unexpected companion. I thought that would be the end of my unforeseen duty, but granny had other plans. She said the least she could do was to take advantage of her snack time to learn something about me and the place I come from. Oddly enough, I sat with her and answered the inevitable standard questions: where are you from? How is your country? Do you like Japan? Do you like Japanese people? Do you like Japanese food? Are you married? Since when? Do you have children? Etc.

When the lady finished her snack, we made for the station. I was planning to bid farewell at the entrance, but then I realized there would be no way of arriving on time to my appointment. So I decided to see through the end my unexpected role as a tour guide. I escorted the obaachan all the way to the platform from which she should board the train that would take her to her destination. I explained that she should ride the yellow train and get off at the first stop. Laughing lightly, maybe in annoyance, she reiterated that she was not senile, that she had just been very tired and that she was very grateful for my assistance and that the karma of the universe would reward me for it.

While we waited for the train, I took advantage of the fact that I was super well-dressed and groomed that day to ask a woman who was next to us if she would mind making sure obaachan got off the train at the right station. The woman replied that she was getting off at the same place and kindly volunteered to wait, once they reached their destination, for someone to come and meet the old lady.

When it was finally announced through the loudspeakers that the train was coming, I bid my farewell to the obaachan. Suddenly, her voice had great projection and she began to express her gratitude and to apologize for all the trouble she caused, calling me “ogaijinsama” (roughly equivalent to “Mr. honorable foreigner”). I felt as though every pair of eyes in Tokyo were staring at me, so I insisted that it was nothing and that obaachan had no reason to thank me. The train finally arrived and my unexpected adventure came to an end.

As soon as the old lady’s train left I called the office where my meeting was supposed to take place. Even though there were 15 minutes left before the appointment time, I was going to be 30 minutes behind schedule. When asked about why I was running late, I began to explain what happened; I decided not to get too detailed because I quickly realized that the person at the other end of the line was thoroughly incredulous of my story, a stance I would probably take if somebody else told me this story. The person I was speaking to on the phone expressed his congratulatory satisfaction with what I did and thanked me for the call; then he proceeded to remind me that there would no other date or time available for us to meet and expressed his deepest regret about this, wishing me good luck and happiness. (In other words: go f*$# yourself if you are going to concoct such bulls**t, you son of a…!). I suppose that is the karma of the universe in action.