I realised today I have quite different standards for myself (and those of a similar nationality to me) than I do for the Asian students here.
This evening as I sat in my room trying to fill in the gaps on my worksheet from a Japanese language CD, I suddenly heard a louder noise: loud sobs. I went out and there was one of the new girls, Sue, heading to her room, sobbing uncontrollably as she went. The problem? Well I'm not allowed to tell the others in the house who it concerns, but as none of them have yet discovered this blog (or even know my surname so aren't likely to!), I can tell you: it was because a plan she thought she had made for the weekend with the other housemates had fallen through, as due to different transport preferences, the other Taiwanese boy in the house seemed to be excluding her from it. Why was this so upsetting, for a 25 year old? Because this 25-year-old was in a foreign country, and had come to see the Taiwanese boy (as well as the Taiwanese girl) as family espicially, as they were from the same country. She felt he was no longer a friend, or family.
In our classes, often the Taiwanese students sit together, as do the Korean students. That has been fine with me, as I've managed to fit in - inbetween a Chinese student and a Taiwanese student, as it happens. My best friend from my old class was Man Min; my friend in my new class is Tan Lin. Man Min. Tan Lin. Kinda memorable.
But recently, there was another European girl in my class, from Venice. (She has now moved classes though). In the first lesson, she was delighted we were both 'Your-rop-pa-jin' (European, in Japanese!) and couldn't stop referring to it. In the student cafe afterwards she said we must sit together from then on, as we were both 'your-rop-pa-jin'. This really annoyed me. Not only was I wanting to make friends with the two Chinese girls I had sat with that day, but I also I felt she was being very racist, not thinking the Asian students could really be her friends. The more she said to me how awful it was that there were so few 'your-rop-pa-jins' in the school, the more I became irritated, til I finally answered to her, 'Well you have come to live in Japan!'
But yet, have I ever questioned the Asian students sitting together, cooking together, chatting together? No! In fact, today, when Sue was crying and feeling so betrayed by her fellow Taiwanese student, I only felt admiration that they could so quickly feel family-ties simply because they had come from the same country.
Maybe I am a bit odd. Quite likely it's the missionary training in me (& specfically the voice of
Len Bartlotti in my ears), that knows if we don't make efforts to branch out beyond our 'own', the 'other' will never become our friend. Remember those shoes of readiness that come from the gospel of peace (Ephesians 5) that we've been fitted with? Well they're for crossing borders! Without giving them some wear and tear, peace between nations, between genders, between the ordinary and the divine, will lack it's full potential. Or maybe other English people are also odd. There's only one other in the school, and we've only just learnt each others' names (his is Daniel, mine's Henrietta- actually I don't know if he does know my name, come to think of it) - and that's after seven months of standing silently together, squashed into the school lift (with breaks for lessons and sleep and the like of course). I think he usually prefers to be squashed into his Taiwanese girlfriend rather than into conversation with the girl from England. But regardless of nationality, the other English speakers (whether they be Thai, German or American), yes, I do feel I have more to talk about and connect over. For example there's one girl from Thailand who used to be a journalist, and had an English boss. We get on really well. But this Italien girl and I could only speak Japanese to each other. And, come to think of it, I have never even been in a Gondala. I've always preferred camels.
