This morning, Randy has gone off to Tokyo to make arrangements for his
next show in the department store in the Ginza. Yoshimi doesn’t have classes
today and I have stayed home to help her with housework. Later we’ll go
shopping.
Housework involves cleaning and dusting, sweeping the tatami, airing out
the futon by hanging them over the balcony railing, washing the ofuro and benjo,
and doing up dishes from breakfast. After Yoshimi shows me how, I load the
washing machine which is in one corner of the benjo. I’ve never see a
washer/dryer combination like this before. It’s stacked! The appliances seem tiny,
compared to the laundry monsters elsewhere, but they hold a surprising amount of
dirty clothing and sheets. Pretty smart! Japanese are very efficient, I think. They
don’t make unnecessary work for themselves:
they just do well what is required.
Not more. Pretty smart!
With the laundry underway and the cleaning all finished, I begin bringing
the futon in from the railing so Yoshimi can fold and put them into the closet for
the day. You may remember that the balcony faces west overlooking a rice paddy.
Out in the middle of the paddy, I see Barry and Sandy’s “scarecrow” and smile.
It’s not really a scarecrow, you see; it’s an Afghan coat. A work of art, it is made
of goat skins, fleece to the inside, gorgeously embroidered with brilliantly coloured
silk thread. Unfortunately, the skins were tanned with animal urine. That worked
perfectly well in Afghanistan’s deserts, but in Japan’s subtropical summer
humidity, the garment has developed an unbearable, and nauseating, stench. I’m
sure it keeps crows away, and the farmers too! Someone will sneak out there some
night, steal it, and take it somewhere for a decent burial. Barry and Sandra can’t
bear to put it to rest themselves, but it is a goner.
“My parents came from a place near Kobe. They moved to Tokyo after I
was born.”
by Morley Evans