On My Soapbox

Quarantine officers prepare to inspect

an arriving plane at Narita Airport

Believe it or not, I’m not going to write about dangerously crowded Tokyo trains, amazingly inefficient Japanese banks, or the fashionably dressed dogs in Setagaya. At least for the moment, I have a new soapbox from which to complain.

It all started in April with a new outbreak of swine flu, now known as H1N1. Increasingly frightening reports in The Daily Yoimuri newspaper told us this potentially fatal flu strain was spreading wildly in Mexico and showing up in the United States, Canada, and elsewhere. Health-conscious Japan suddenly was on top alert. The Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries instructed all animal quarantine offices to make sure pigs being imported weren’t infected, inciting a feeling of panic throughout the country. Perhaps it was no longer safe to eat pork of any kind! Things calmed somewhat when the Agriculture Minister assured the nation that no one would catch swine flu from eating pork. Yet people were dying in Mexico. Surely Japan was going to be next.

As a result, procedures were drawn up whereby all airplanes coming in from Mexico, the United States, and Canada would be inspected by quarantine officers before any passengers would be allowed to deplane. Some 500 rooms were reserved in hotels around Narita Airport where people could be quarantined for 10 days if they were thought to have swine flu. Despite these and other preparations, it was a few days before Narita Airport detected its first suspected case on April 30. This unfortunate woman was escorted from the airplane with a cloth over her head and a quarantine officer on either side of her as if she were being led to her execution! However, much to the dismay of the Japanese press, her flu turned out to be only a common strain. The hotel rooms remained unoccupied.

Finally, the diligence of the press was rewarded on May 8 when three cases were confirmed. Not only were these individuals quarantined, but people seated anywhere in their vicinity also were “detained.” Large, bold headlines screamed out the long-awaited news and accompanying reports sounded almost jubilant. Japan, too, had the swine flu! It was as if the nation had won a long-awaited prize! Suddenly cold and flu masks were selling out everywhere.

Then, on May 16, the first domestic case was confirmed in Kobe. All pandemonium broke out since the infected high school student had not traveled abroad to bring the flu back to Japan with him. By May 18, 130 cases had been discovered in the area. All schools in Kobe, Osaka, and their respective prefectures were closed, and it was reported that people were stockpiling food and holing up in their homes as if the plague had infected central Japan.

So? You may be wondering what soapbox I’m standing atop and why I’m writing about Japan’s response to the swine flu. Bernie has said it time and time again: Japan loves a crisis—so much so, in fact, that if there isn’t one, they’ll create one if they can. Tune in next time for the continuation of this story. It begins for us on May 16, the day we left Japan for a quick trip to the United States. For now, suffice it to say that we should have had better sense than to travel at the height of the swine flu scare.

Validation

Sightseeing with friends at the Imperial Palace

Our assignment was to help with registration for the annual Charity Runathon for Tokyo English Life Line (TELL). The NPO, operating for more than 30 years, provides both telephone and face-to-face counseling for Japan’s foreign community. TELL’s services provide vital help for individuals needing support as they struggle with mental health issues, cross-cultural stresses, marital or health crises, thoughts of suicide, child rearing concerns, unfair labor practices, and more.

Money in the bank certainly is not what validates a not-for-profit organization like TELL. But it may well be the indicator of how long such a service can operate, especially in these economically challenging days. Thus the Charity Runathon is an important fund-raising effort that helps TELL stay afloat. Knowing this, we were grateful for every man, woman, and child—more than 1,000 strong—who turned out on that beautiful Saturday morning to walk 5 kilometers or to run in the 5 or 10 kilometer races.

Following registration, and after the three races around the Imperial Palace grounds were off to a good start, Bernie and I ambled over to the start-finish line. With our assigned tasks finished, we joined a small group of people who were waiting for the first 5K runners to appear. As they came into view, we all spontaneously began clapping and cheering them over the finish line. Soon we and others were handing out bottles of water and Aquarius as we congratulated the runners and those who would come in behind them. With every bottle we passed to the parched runners, we also thanked them for their participation in the Runathon. TELL would be able to continue its valuable work because of them. Amazingly, some participants were as young as five years old!

That morning Bernie and I had to awaken early on a national holiday in order to arrive at the Imperial Palace on time. Frankly, we’d wondered why we’d been so foolish as to volunteer to give up a day when we could have slept in—something we both needed. But we felt entirely different on the return train home. We were energized as we’d not been in a long time, even without the extra sleep we craved. What was the difference? It was the joy we received at the finish line when we, without planning to do so, became encouragers. In the end, we ourselves were encouraged and uplifted.

Contemplating the experience, I recalled a YouTube video my brother was kind enough to send me recently (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao). Entitled “Validation,” this heartwarming vignette vividly portrays why the world would be a better place if people practiced the art of validating and encouraging others. A few simple words and a smile can make a huge difference. It’s true. I experienced it at the finish line of the Runathon. I’m still glowing one week later.