Proxy Lift

“The whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.”

― Charles Dickens

Sneaky September in Japan brings storms, sadness and ‘shukudai’

5 SEPTEMBER 2016       JAPAN TIMES       KAORI SHOJI

In Japan, the month of 9月 (kugatsu, September) may herald a welcome respite from the summer heat, or it may bring on the loneliness and depression that invariably accompanies the summer’s end.

In Japan’s 旧暦 (kyūreki, old calendar), September, or 長月 (nagatsuki) as it was called, meant cooling temperatures combined with long rains and lingering humidity. The first day of September was known as 二百十日 (nihyakutōka, the 210th day of the year), and signaled that either a 台風 (taifū, typhoon) or a rainstorm was likely to sweep away the fun, lazy memories of summer in one fell swoop. It’s probably no coincidence that the 関東大震災 (Kantō Daishinsai, the Great Kanto Earthquake) happened two minutes before noon on Sept. 1, 1923. 

Then as now, this is the month when カビ (kabi, mold) is likely to appear around 水周り (mizumawari, plumbing areas) like baths and kitchen sinks. Traditionally it’s the woman’s job to wipe everything down and do some deep cleaning, or the 細菌 (saikin, bacteria) will trigger the first symptoms of autumn colds and digestive troubles. (Though I know one woman who requested the gift of a major 風呂掃除 [furosōji, bathroom cleaning] for her 15th wedding anniversary one September. She was so happy with the result, her husband now chips in on a regular basis. Miracles do happen.) 

This is the time of year when the Japanese are apt to become 感傷的 (kanshōteki, sentimental). セプテンバー、そしてあなたは秋に変わった (Seputenbā, soshite anata wa aki ni kawatta, “September, with the arrival of fall, you changed on me”) is the refrain to an old Mariya Takeuchi song. The lyrics are all about how the boyfriend went distant and cold as soon as September rolled around. One of the enduring myths (or truths?) behind a Japanese relationship is that if it can survive the month of September — i.e., the precarious and turbulent shift from summer to fall — it will likely survive anything. Yes, it’s that serious. 

Novelist Osamu Dazai was extra sensitive about autumn — even resentful about it. 秋は夏と同時にやってくる (Aki wa natsu to dōji ni yattekuru, “Autumn arrives at the same time as summer”), he wrote, implying that nuggets of sadness and rains are concealed right in the hot, joyous months filled with sunshine. Also, 秋はずるい悪魔だ (Aki wa zurui akuma da, “Autumn is a sneaky devil”) he claimed, explaining that autumn secretly makes preparations during the summer months when people are enjoying themselves, all the while smirking with contempt at their ignorant bliss. That’s Osamu Dazai for you — apt to complain and darkly paranoid. 

Despite all of the above and more, the Japanese government has declared Sept. 1 to be 防災の日 (Bōsai no Hi, Disaster Preparedness Day), and if you’ve been through the Japanese school system, you’ll know this is the day when you have to get in line with everyone else and stand in the schoolyard (or gymnasium, depending on the weather) and listen for what seems like an eternity to the principal droning on and on about the importance of 用心 (yōjin, being carefully prepared). A local 消防士 (shōbōshi, firefighter) would have likely visited your school and given some lessons on emergency procedures, before overseeing the 避難訓練 (hinankunren, emergency drill). You probably went home with a bag of free 非常食 (hijōshoku, emergency food) consisting of the time-honored 乾パン (kanpan, canned dried bread pellets) and アルファ米 (arufa-mai, “alpha rice,” or quick-cooking rice), which your mom then stashed inside a cupboard and promptly forgot about until the following September. 

And if you’ve gone to school on the archipelago, you will know that the end of summer comes hand in hand with sheer misery. Every year until he or she graduates from high school, the Japanese child is plagued by 夏休みの宿題 (natsuyasumi no shukudai, summer homework). Every generation claims its workload gets heavier by the year. 

Sept. 1 is the deadline for this homework, and we’re talking hefty bagfuls of to-dos in every subject. Any kid who has been foolhardy enough (read: almost everyone) to spend the summer weeks engaged in pastimes like camping, swimming and visiting their grandparents during お盆 (o-Bon, the Bon holiday period that marks the returning of ancestors and loved ones who passed away) will spend the days between Aug. 26 or so until the dawn of Sept. 1 glued to their desks and sobbing their eyes out. Read More