Mission Statement). The first thought in my mind after reading about the HAL-5 was, “If I wear this, I
could walk and be just as able-bodied as everyone else. My weak muscles would no longer be a problem,
and I would finally be stable enough to walk. My life would be perfect.” However, as of now, the HAL-5 is
still in the testing stages, and is not yet safe for commercial use.

The more and more I began to research these robots and the companies making them, I noticed one
common thread between all of them. I noticed that all of the chief engineers designing, building, and
coding these robots were not disabled. While it is important that these robots are being developed in Japan,
I would have thought it would be common sense to have a disabled person’s input on the technology being
built to assist them. This common thread is what started me down my current path, the path that will allow
me to live my life to the fullest. I know what it is like to have your life changed by a disability, to not be
able to do most simple tasks on your own, and most of all what the physically disabled need help with the
most in order to be independent. I want to be part of the team that produces these robots; I want to create
the robots that will allow millions of disabled people live successful and independent lives without being
hindered by their disability. I want to help disabled people level the playing field.

At first, even my dad was unsure if I could live independently, he thought I depended on him too
much to be successful. We often got into heated debates as to whether or not it would be plausible. It used
to be the case that I would be defeated in these debates, and not know how to answer his questions, but now
armed with my new knowledge of Japanese robots, I could finally fight back. “Well son, how would do
simple things such as clean, make your bed or even change light bulbs?” I responded, “Dad that’s ASIMO’s
job.” He then proceeded to ask me about cooking to which I responded with the Motoman SDA10, a robot
that is designed to be a personal chef (Daly). With robots by my side, I could finally convince my dad it
will be plausible for me to live alone.

The language barrier was the only problem standing in my way of reaching my newfound goal. All
the robots that would help me live an unhindered life are being developed by Japanese companies. I needed
to learn Japanese in order to be truly successful. Thus, I began asking Taisei for help, and while I was
helping him with English, he was helping me more and more with my Japanese, and gradually I began to
fall in love with the beauty of the language and the complexity of the Kanji. Now, I am a Computer Science
major and Japanese minor at Stony Brook University ready to program robots in Japan that will help the
disabled live normal lives. If it weren’t for Taisei and the Japanese companies developing things such as the
SDA10, ASIMO, and the HAL-5, I would be destined to feed off my family. However, now the world is my
oyster, and it is only appropriate that I quote the band the Styx and say, “Doumo Arigatou Mr. Robotto,”
Thank you Mr. Robot, for allowing me to live freely.

Bibliography Abe, Shinzo, “Innovation 25.” 26 Feb 2007. Web. 1 Dec 2010.

Daly, Ian. “Just Like Mombot Used to Make.” New York Times. New York Times. 23 Feb 2010. Web. 1
Dec 2010.

Hirose, Masato and Kenichi Ogawa. “Honda Humanoid Robots Development.” Philosophical Transactions
Of The Royal Society A 365 (2007): 11-19. Print.

Normile, Dennis. “Japan Picks Up the Innovation Mantra.” Science 316 (2007): 128. Print.

48



Finding Japan on an Island
Manami Ogami (Stony Brook University)
“No culture can live if it attempts to be exclusive”- Mahatma Gandhi. Those words proved to be true
when looking back at my transition from Kyoto, Japan to Honolulu, Hawaii. Looking back at my
childhood, my memories are filled with what most would consider typical memories. However, there is a
distinct difference between most children and myself because at the age of four I was forced to leave my
home in Japan and embark upon a new life in Hawaii.

As my seat vibrated from the roaring engine, my mother fumbled with the clasp of my seat belt, the
belt clenching tightly into my stomach. Gazing out the window, my home became smaller and smaller as
the plane gained height, leaving behind my friends, family, home, pets, and quite essentially my life.

Landing in Honolulu, Hawaii, tourists clamored to baggage claim excitingly chattering about the
beauty of the islands. In a matter of hours, I had lost everything I had known. I was forced to reside in a
place where Japan was identified with three things; Hello Kitty, Sony, and chicken teriyaki. When most
imagine residing in Hawaii they envision pristine beaches that line the land of Hula dancers and surfers.

However, there is a distinct difference between starting a life in Hawaii and a vacation to Hawaii- and this
was no vacation.

My dad had to remain in Japan due to his work, so it was only my mom, my cat and myself who
moved to Hawaii. So there we were, with no job, no car, hiding away my cat in a no-pets one-bedroom
apartment. Not an ideal situation compared to my home in Japan that held my toys, books, and of course
my father.

Fortunately, my mother found a job and I was soon placed in pre-school. Aside from dance classes,
this was the first time I ever attended any type of school. Unfortunately, I felt unrelatable to my peers,
unable to communicate any of my interests or feelings. The other children whispered about me in hush
tones, fearing the unknown. After all, what do you do with a girl that seemed to be mute? My teachers
faced much difficulty, trying to communicate through elaborate gestures and hand movements. I felt
frustrated at the fact that I was unable to communicate even the simplest of tasks such as “Can I go to the
bathroom?” It worsened as we delved deeper into the curriculum. While other children began to read, I was
learning to speak. How could I be expected to read a language that I didn’t even understand? When I was
given assignments, I was more than capable of doing the work; I just simply could not understand the
directions. My instructors recommended ELS classes, but as we were already bombarded with pre-school
fees, we were unable to afford any other activities. As a child I envied those who could keep up with school
effortlessly. I felt as though I was cheated by being moved to a foreign land where everything was more
difficult for me.

Something I didn’t initially realize when I first moved to Hawaii was that I wasn’t just leaving my
friends/family behind but also the mundane everyday things such as television, books, games, and
conversations that most of us take for granted. Hello Kitty was now replaced on the screen with a purple
dinosaur that spoke in a foreign tongue. Books were written in strange scriptures that seemed to represent
stories I have never heard before. Where were the tales of Momotaro (the peach boy) or Urashima taro?
Everything I had grown accustomed to disappear within a single plane ride, and I felt very lost in such an
unfamiliar land.

One day as my mother was reading the Hawaii Hochi, a local Japanese newspaper, she noticed an ad
for an upcoming Bon dance. Bon Dance, a Buddhist festival that commemorates the deceased, is a
cherished Japanese tradition. Thinking it would be fun, we decided to go. Dawning my yukata (a summer
kimono), I arrived and was shocked. Japanese stores lined the street, with almost everyone speaking
Japanese, as the aroma of yakitori filled the air. As I tried to scoop goldfish, eat yakisoba, and danced
around the yagura, I momentarily felt as though I was back home. I found kids who spoke Japanese and
shared similar interests of Japanese anime and played games such as Shogi. It was as if I found a little part
of Japan on this island.

Soon after I found other Japanese activities I could partake in right here on the island. Both my great-
grandmother and grandmother were both tea masters in Japan; therefore I started to take tea ceremony
49