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Imagine Tondo in Tokyo
A Tondo in Tokyo?
That must have been the image conjured up by a Filipino friend
who called me up from Sydney to ask my opinion on what he
had read in an Australian daily. The paper reportedly claimed
that if its economic slide is not stopped, mighty Japan will
soon join the ranks of the Third World.
That was about a year ago. I then scoffed at the idea. With
the self-confidence of one who has lived in Japan in the last
17 years, I demanded what proof the author has for such an
outrageous idea.
“The minus statistics are staggering,” he retorted.
“What about these photos of Sumida River bank and Ueno
Park dotted by blue vinyl sheets that are roof to Tokyo’s
thousands of homeless even in winter?”
I was tempted to say, “They’re still luxurious
compared to our slums.”
A year ago, I wouldn’t budge an inch to yield a point
to the faintest whine on Japan. After all, when I first set
foot in Japan as it rode astride the crest of an economic
boom, Japan-bashers had a field day faulting this country’s
many barriers to foreigners doing business here.
Now that the economic machine has jerked to a prolonged slowdown,
they’ve changed their cadence to taunting the country
that continues to host my livelihood as going down Tondo’s
drains.
If only for the Pinoy’s strong sense of utang na loob—which
is kindred to the Japanese ongaeshi—I would not be carried
away by these ravings.
Now, I can’t help but concede. Japan has indeed changed
a lot in the last year.
Newspapers banner headlines alternately on the unrelenting
rise of Japan’s unemployment and high-ranking government
officials caught red-handed in corruption or in complicity
thereof. Seemingly straitlaced politicians, treated with distant
respect by the media in the past, have crumbled in their televised
admission of or clumsy attempts to hedge their wrongdoing
before the public’s eyes. Likewise, big companies have
been caught tampering or misrepresenting product labels and
even poisoning the consumers en masse with their substandard
production process. Offhand, these news reports seem to have
been culled from the pages of our own newspapers.
What’s unsettling is not only the media reports, but
changes in the realities of our daily life in Japan. It’s
as if the events we watch with detachment on our TV screens
have leapt right off into our homes, neighborhoods and workplaces.
The recent computer breakdown of the newly born Mizuho Bank,
from the merger of three city banks, was perhaps a minor inconvenience,
affecting only those Filipinos doing business or having transactions
with the merging banks. But the incident exposes the severity
of the effect of Japan’s prolonged economic stagnation—the
loss of morale, the flagging of the spirit of customer service,
and the almost blatant disregard for efficiency.
The imperious economic animal has been bent by the long journey
through the tunnel without seeing the light of recovery even
until now. The main casualty is the Japanese kokoro—the
mind, the spirit, humbled and worn.
Filipinos in Tsukuba who hired a bus for a trip to Nikko
last month had a first-hand experience of this slip in the
vaunted Japanese spirit. Everyone woke up at five in the morning
to be on time for the scheduled departure at 8:00 AM. The
bus did not show up until about 10:00 AM, even as it gave
repeated assurances that it would be ready within 30 minutes.
When everyone was seated, all we got was an explanation that
the assigned driver got the wrong schedule sheet.
I never had a problem buying second-hand cars in the past.
They served me well for several years without any hitches,
even with repeated renewal of shaken (car warranty). But the
last two slightly used vans I bought brought me into a close
brush with death. The first one stopped after running out
of battery power in the middle of the Joban Expressway. Although
I fumed mad with my car dealer, he tried to make amends by
repairing it to its best condition and offering me added after-service.
The last second-hand van I bought, supposedly a newer model,
broke down in a fume of smoke as my wife drove it down to
the Flower Park from Mt. Tsukuba after only two weeks of use.
Luckily, nothing untoward happened to my family. Although
the dealer is locally well-known and is supposed to be reliable,
the manager’s attitude when I confronted him seemed to
be, “This is second hand, what can you expect?”
This time, there was not even the slightest attempt to make
up for their stark negligence in checking the car. They did
not even provide for a temporary replacement.
I can’t quite imagine Tondo mushrooming amid the blue
vinyl sheets in the heart of Tokyo. But I can smell the fetid
rot wafting from the heart of the humbled Japanese. *
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