“It is the possibly of having a dream come true that makes life so interesting.” - Pablo Coelho, The Alchemist.

I distinctly remember as a child being transfixed by a weekly Japanese television programme in my native Trinidad and Tobago and being vicariously teleported to a land I had not known. It was unlike anything I had ever seen in my young life- colourful kimonos, streets carpeted with pink cherry blossoms, roof tops that were lined with ornate shingles, trains that seem to go a million miles an hour and paper that was folded into the most extraordinary shapes.

It seemed like a dream, only created by my young imaginative mind.

How on earth could there be a place of such contradiction? A place where hundreds of years of tradition is able to blend beautifully, almost seamlessly, within a modern progressive society? I was ten then.

As I grew older, I devoured the pages of every travel magazine and book I could lay my hands on.

I went on fascinating journeys through ancient Japan, delving through old Kyoto with devastatingly beautiful geishas as they played soothing sounds on the shamisen entertaining their elite guests. I was that little boy who cried helplessly when he lost both his parents in Hiroshima when the bombs dropped. I fought and struggled in heroic battles with samurais during the Muromachi period to ensure the freedom of their people.

In a flip of a page, I would be consuming the charm of Osaka’s famed night life under a dark velvety sky. As I read on I would plunge deep into the turquoise waters of tropical Okinawa leaving all my worldly troubles behind. In another chapter I would magically dance through the breathtaking lavender fields of Hokkaido with my eternal love. I was in high school then and reading was my escapism.

Many years later, on the tiny Caribbean island of Barbados, I did my masters in climate change and elements of the Kyoto Protocol became the poetry of my postgraduate life.
Somehow it seemed from my elementary days to high school years to young adulthood pieces of Japan appeared to be unknowingly laced throughout my life.

During my tenure in Barbados I inadvertently came across an article by a former English teacher in Japan that instantly became imprinted in my soul.

Ingrained in the article was a testimonial by a Mr. Richard Burns, who had described his experience as an ALT (Assistant Language Teacher) as not always easy, and sometimes frustrating, but went on to say that "teaching in my town's Junior High Schools was the best job I've ever had. The only downside, I think, is that I may never have another job I'll love even half as much". After reading those honest words I was convinced that this was an experience I would be honoured to have.

I applied with modest expectations, a boy from a developing country, and almost two years later here I am- sitting in my Japanese styled apartment in Namerikawa, Toyama, drinking homemade green tea and peering out of my shiny glass window is an immaculate panoramic view of the snow capped Tateyama mountains.

Like that stunning pink cherry blossom I had once been hypnotized by as a child that flashed across my television screen many years ago, my dream of visiting the land of the rising sun has too blossomed into an amazing reality.

My experience here can only be compared to Japan’s seasons.

Arriving in glamorous Tokyo, partying in dazzling Shinjuku, dining in the infamous Harajuku region and exploring the wonders of busy Shibuya are reminiscent of the warm Japanese summer- vibrant and exciting, lively and fun.

Much like how summer creeps into autumn so too did my disposition subtly change. Admittedly, when I first landed in Toyama, uncertainties and insecurities started to cart-wheel in my mind, haunting me for my first few days. Doubt plagued me like an inescapable chill. What had I done? What did I commit myself to?

It then hit me like a ferocious winter storm that I had left behind my friends, my family and my entire life as I knew it. The unfamiliarity was terribly frightening and it was compounded by my almost non-existent Japanese. I felt like a cub that had unintentionally strayed from its mother- cold and alone, and forced to defend itself in a scary new world.

The winter snow flakes soon faded into a cool spring breeze upon meeting my first class. Forty blank faces stared at me as I introduced myself in unequivocal silence. Feeling glaringly incongruous I continued, and then informed them that I am from Trinidad and Tobago and the classroom in an instant became alive, buzzing with a welter of activities, with many innocent students whispering “Doko?” (where?) The proverbial winter ice had been shattered.

It has been spring ever since that day.

Being here has offered me far more than the opportunity to revel in the unparalleled beauty of seemingly elusive Japan; and being an ALT has meant much more than just teaching English. It transcends that on so many levels.

Being an English teacher is cemented in cultural sharing, grounded in international diplomacy, layered in grass root internationalization but above all, it is deeply rooted in building long lasting friendships.

I am from a place hidden away in the Caribbean, a nation unfamiliar to many, a country with a rich history and diverse tapestry but foreign to most of the world. The tiny prefecture of Toyama has allowed me to assume the position of an unofficial ambassador of the twin island republic of Trinidad and Tobago- a position I have willingly embraced.
This opportunity has opened my eyes to a revered and ancient culture but at the same time it has enabled me to unlock the cosmopolitan beauty of my own.

I have sipped on sake at a school's enkai (banquet) at a traditional Japanese hotel nestled on the hills of Kurobe with my co-workers conveying to them stories of my country's colonial past while being educated on Japan's rise to a great nation.

I have played tennis in the harsh winter with my enthusiastic students, missing every returning shot and had them encouragingly say “Gambatte kudasai” (Keep trying).

I have taught my students how to groove to the infectious tones of chutney music and they reciprocated by educating me on the falsettos of Ayumi Hamaski.

I have taken memorable road trips with Japanese friends across Osaka, Ishikawa and Nagano sharing stories of love and tragedy, laughs and tears.

I have prayed at Kompon Chu-do shrine in Kyoto, listened attentively to a Buddhist monk speak with such conviction and humility that I was moved to tears.

I have shared the religious diversity of my nation that was born of out slavery and indentureship as I walked through the famed Kenrokuen Garden in Kanazawa with my friend.

I am an English teacher, one of the thousands dispersed throughout Japan, but working in Toyama has built a bridge between two nations, narrowed the gap on misconceptions, nurtured mutual interests and most importantly, exemplified the beauty of difference.

Because of I am a teacher, from a land far, far away I am now humbled to say that students dotted throughout Toyama can now point out my once unknown country on the map of the world. I am humbled that Japanese mothers and grandmothers danced upon hearing the sweet sounds of soca (my country’s music). I am humbled that my co-workers celebrated with me when my country, two little islands, walked across the Olympic stage. I am humbled that I taught old men and young children how to make one of my country’s most acclaimed dishes and have them sincerely express “Oishii!” (delicious). I am humbled to be the first ALT from Trinidad and Tobago to call Toyama home.

A great love affair with Japan has flourished since moving to Namerikawa almost seven months ago. Truthfully, as much as I adore being here, nostalgia will suddenly sweep over me like a sporadic desert storm. I do sometimes miss my home and the surrounding acres of familiar green sugar cane plantations in my rural Trinidad.

Occasionally I long to have trivial conversations with my friends in our local “trini” dialect and at other times I yearn to have a spicy Creole meal made only by my mother’s loving hands or to hear my little sister’s laughter. Like every storm and the dark clouds it brings, these feelings too quickly vanish into oblivion.

My best friend once asked me to describe what being here is like in one word and without hesitation I whipped “Utopia”. Japan has unexpectedly become just that...my utopia. The reason is quite simple. Every afternoon when I am biking home, I have little bright eyed elementary school children wave merrily and happily shout “Konnichiwa Jem-som!”

It is this daily occurrence that reassures me every single day that I have made the right decision coming here.

- Jenson Deokiesingh

Reference:
1. Coelho, P. 1993. The Alchemist. Harper Collins Publishers.