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
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