I thought I would do something different with this week's column and tell you about some of the Japanese folks that make up part of our walking contigent. At the outset we had more than 30 people from Japan among us; as visas run out we lose one or two a week. This group have been such a blessing and I'm saddened each time one leaves our circle.
Dennis Banks' relationship with Japan goes back 30 years when Japanese Buddhist Nun Jun-san joined The Longest Walk in 1978. She is with the Nipponzan Myoji order — a group of dedicated peace walkers who have traveled the world, drumming and chanting the prayer namu myoho renge kyo repeatedly for global healing. Jun-san has joined this walk as well, bringing other monks with her as well as encouraging many other young Japanese peace activists to make the journey to the States.
The Japanese contigent was recently invited to travel up to Big Mountain on the Navajo Reservation and visit with the Elders in that area; and in a bit of grace I was invited to go. During our three days we had time to have longer conversations and I was able to interview four people as to why and how they came to be here.
Aiko Kamada and I have enjoyed many conversations in the camp and on the road. She is eager to practice her English, and we have had some pretty fun (and random) conversations, covering everything from what the Japanese version of Halloween is to her discovery of the newly translated Winnie the Pooh books (We tried talking about Dr. Seuss, which she didn't know...try miming Cat in the Hat sometime.) She didn't know anything about The Longest Walk and wasn't a part of the peace movement in Japan. She simply saw a flyer in a Japanese shop advertising a Dennis Banks speaking engagement and was curious. Having always wanted to see America, she thought this would be a good opportunity — so she left her job as a temp and came over. Her time here has greatly changed her outlook on how she has been a consumer, and now she would like to enjoy a simpler life. “I think about how I would always desire things. Now I don't desire so much and am very happy. Now I see the oilwells and the destruction of resources. In Japan I buy, but now I see how it hurts local people and will do things differently.”
Masanori Obayashi and friend Yuriko Masada have been stuying Native culture in Japan for several years and were eager to make the trip to meet and talk with Native people firsthand. There is a definitive link between these two cultures that go back to WWII. The devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki still greatly effects the Japanese both in the after effects of uranium poisioning and a spiritual break that continues 60 years later. Many Japanese environmental activists have been supportive of Native efforts to stop the continued dumping of uranium on sacred sites.
Both Masa and Yuri have been voracious students of Native songs and can often be seen with the young Native drummers around the fire at night, singing songs from the many tribes we have visited. Masa left his job as an engineer for a wastewater treatment firm to be here and is deeply affected by the spiritual teachings, but is eager to clarify: “I don't want to be Indian. I am Japanese, but I want to apply Native philosophy to my culture. I think this wisdom and philosophy can spread out and I would like to help that. I think it's a miracle to join this walk — when I'm walking I pray for my family and friends and have learned that each step I take is a kiss to Mother Earth. It is a simple thing.”
Yuri agrees, “I came here knowing it may be a struggle, but this is a good thing. These are lessons. I have learned that every person has a life to make something of. To protect something important. This is a powerful message for me.”
Gaku Tahara has the best kismet story I've heard so far. Traveling in Mexico City, he met monks Kenaida and Gilberto at a hostel and was told about the walk one week before it started and decided to join. A former bartender, he had been on the road for more than four months before coming to the Walk. “I wanted to change my life,” he says, “I want to feel something. Here, I feel something. This quiet,” he says looking out over the vast expanse of desert, “there is nothing like this in Tokyo. I will be able to take this spirit with me. I take this Mother Earth with me and think about the Native peoples in the United States and South America. This has been so good for me.”
I have greatly appreciated hearing these and the many other stories of our Japenese brothers and sisters and wish I could tell you more. I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
Arigato gozaimasu.
