Red Shoes and Baby Goats

The tendency to think I'm right began when I was young.  I have proof of this.  Let's use the four-year old me as an example.

"There's a little girl wearing red shoes.  She was taken away by a carrot."

I own a pair of red shoes.  That's what triggers the memory of me singing this song as a child.  Allow me to continue.

Those are not the words, the little girl taken away by a carrot, but the four-year old me was convinced:  a). the little girl singing the song on the record didn't know carrots didn't walk and thus clearly had the mistook the lyrics, or, b). the person who wrote the song was trying to be funny.  It never occurred to me I was wrong.  No.  Never.  Why would I be?

The word for carrot in Japanese is ninjin.  The word used in the song is ijin.  They sound alike, which is why the little girl singing the song could have gotten it wrong, or the person writing the lyrics thought this play on words would be funny.

Now, here's the thing.  If we replace ijin with ninjin then the song goes like this.

"There's a little girl wearing red shoes.  She was taken away by a great person."

This is better than being taken away by a carrot but not by much.  It doesn't quite make sense.  How does the person singing the song know the person leading the girl away was "great"?  What if it was just her father or mother?  Not that parents can't be great, mind you.  But, still.  I must now investigate.

There are two other definitions of the word ijin.  I've not heard either used in a conversation during my years in Japan and this has me all the more confused.  Here's the thing.  One of the definitions for ijin is significantly worse than the idea of being taken away by a carrot.

The definition in question is this: ijin is barbarian.  So, the little girl was taken away by a barbarian?  This definition also says it's a disparaging word for foreigners.  Is this Japanese children's song teaching kids to curse?  To look down upon foreigners?

Another definition is "a person from a mixed marriage".  There is certainly nothing wrong with a little girl in red shoes being taken away by a person who is of mixed race.  Perhaps they are going to a picnic.  The problem I have with this word is that there were so few children of mixed marriages when this song was written--ages ago--that it makes it difficult to believe this word choice is deliberate.

Which leaves us to assume the little girl was taken away by a barbarian or a great person--a very different outcome for the girl, presumably.  Poor thing.

Here's a different story.

I recently had the opportunity to visit the Alps.  This, of course reminded me of a children's clapping game I grew up playing--something similar to Miss Mary Mack.  (Google it.)  The song goes like this:

Alps, 10,000 jaku
Let's dance the Alpine dance
On top of a baby goat

Jaku is an old Japanese measuring unit for some distance.  I don't know what the distance is as it's no longer used.

I grew up playing this clapping game thoroughly confused why anyone would dance on top of a baby goat (how cruel, really) but perhaps this is something people in the Alps do when they dance?  Baby goats aren't important?  They're sacrificed as a part of a cultural tradition?  My childhood imagination ran wild with images of dead baby goats being trampled upon.

As I drove up the Alps I posted a note on Facebook changing the words of the song as I announced my trip the world all while trying to be nicer to baby goats.  A comment made by a friend to this post made me feel much better about the Austrians or Swiss or Germans or whomever and their treatment of goats.

"The song is about the Japanese Alps because the Alps in Europe are higher than 10,000 jaku and the Japanese Alps is about the right height."
You actually did the math?  (I didn't write that.)  Instead I accused him of not knowing the song.
"I do know the song," he said, "and I've actually been to Koyagi which is where they do the Alpine dance."
Dear man, clearly you are confused.  The word koyagi means baby goat.  Why people dance upon them is a mystery shrouded in cruelty but you don't go to a baby goat--as in, you don't go to Koyagi.  It's so sweet you think that, though.  Really. 

He sent photos.

"This is the big rock at Koyagi on one of the peaks of the Japanese Alps, elevation 10,000 jaku, and this is where you're supposed to do the Alpine dance."  His response was kind.

Ah.  So, Koyagi is a place, not a baby goat.  Yes.  That's much better.  Much less cruelty and death.

Two songs I sang as a child come back to me with very different meanings now that I'm an adult.  So it is in life.

The Ultimate Telling Off

The 2012 Best Television Commercial Award in Japan went to Toyota and the series of ads they created for the Prius.  Here again is one of these "I can't make this up" stories.  Look up on YouTube "Toyota Prius CM" and "Kimura Takuya" or "Beat Takeshi."  The commercials are called "Toyota ReBorn" numbering quite a few.  Try to start at the beginning.  Here's the storyline.

Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi, two lords notorious for betrayal, rivalry and war in Japanese history meet in modern-day Japan as Kimura Takuya and Beat Takeshi, two major and current celebrities.  Kimura and Beat go on a road trip, with Beat giving the younger Kimura instructions.  "Take the highway up north," and several commercials later they end up in Tohoku, Ishinomaki to be exact.  Along the way they pick up Matsuko Deluxe, an popular and obese transvestite who's seen hitchhiking in a flowing black gown (looking very much like the grim reaper to me) who ends up being the wife or mistress of one of the two men.  (I've forgotten enough of my Japanese history that I don't understand the historical significance of this woman.  Google "Oichi-no-Kata" for more details.)

Once in Ishinomaki, they visit what used to be an evacuation shelter (now boarded up).  While there, Beat says to Kimura, "Let's go to the ocean."  What comes next is the best, most honest telling off--of the ocean.  Beat screams, face twitching, the ultimate Japanese version of "F*** you."  Technically, yelling "Bakayaro!" at the ocean that destroyed Ishinomaki and countless other cities and towns along the coast, he's calling the ocean stupid.  Anyone who knows this man, however, knows he doesn't just say "stupid." His language is much more coarse.  Not known for being nice or polite, Beat is absolutely, most definitely saying anything akin to just "stupid."  In this one word, he does what we've all wanted to do since March 11th.  The commercials are strong, powerful, and painful all at the same time.  They deserve the award.  If I were creating these commercials, I might have added Bolero as the soundtrack, but that's just me.

The commercials are worth watching.  I applaud Toyota's audacity, their ability to take a subject not the least bit funny, taking two men admired and loved and turning a hybrid car into the medium by which to tell a story, express anger, and remind people to care.  Watch it.  Laugh and cry.  Care.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afzj_J8MizM