Backedup's Journal

The man sat on a bar stool at the end of the counter, drinking beer. Couples, singles, men, women, came and went. He spoke when spoken to, in short simple sentences that made it clear he was not there to talk.

At about one in the morning he left the bar and walked down towards the river. In the middle of the city as he was, miles of cement and asphalt, with tiny oases of shrubs and small trees, extended in every direction around him, except for the river. It?s presence loomed as he approached it.

He sat on an old box of some sort and stared at the water flowing in the river. ?The river?s flow is ceaseless, and yet the water in the river itself is never the same??we see the same river but different water in it each time we look at it.

He did not hear the young men come up behind him. Perhaps he had dozed off. In any event, the first thing he knew of it was when the metal pipe hit him on the back. He turned as he fell away from them, and counted three, maybe four, before the second blow, this one to his head. He tried to crawl away, but they were kicking him from every direction. He tried to protect himself, but they pulled him up, holding him exposed, as they punched his face and chest, and kicked him in the genitals.

Hey, he?s got money, said one who had discovered his wallet. As he made that exclamation the man vomited, his stomach reacting both to the large amounts of beer which had been consumed and to the incessant kicks it had received. The vomit only increased the violence of his attackers.

One had a knife. In the wild confusion of his mind, in the intense drunken state, the intense fear, the pain, he saw death coming. One of them pulled him up, and another stepped back, winding up what would be a killer punch, while the kid with the knife laughed, flashing at the horror filled expression on the man?s face.

In the ultimate throes of desperation, the man jerked free, ran to the river, and jumped in. He let himself sink as far as he could, then swam as far as he could under water. He surfaced as quietly as possible, breathed quickly, and submerged again. During the time his head was exposed he neither saw nor heard anything. In the cold of the water, his mind cleared, and with it came the pain. Several ribs, at least, were fractured. He surfaced again, this time taking time to look back at the place where he had been beaten. They were still there, looking for him, and spotted him soon enough. They cursed, threw whatever was handy,. But he was out of their range. He shivered, and felt a cramp growing in his left foot.

He had no idea what to do next. His clothes pulled at him down, making it difficult for him to float. He was in pain, exhausted, and knew he could not last long. The current had him now, and he drifted away at a faster pace. He saw the place where he had been beaten grow smaller and smaller..

As he floated he tried to remember the name of the town he was in, but couldn?t. He tried to remember the state, but that was impossible, too. Slowly he worked his way back towards the bank of the river. Reaching a landing, he crawled up onto it, and lay there for a moment, completely exhausted. Fear would not let him stay, however, and he half-dragged half-walked to what he hoped would be safety, behind some garbage cans. As he passed out, he wondered if there might be some rats to worry about.

The garbage collectors reported him to the police the next morning, and they, in turn, called an ambulance. He was taken, unconscious, to the hospital. An early morning walker had found and turned in his wallet, which was now missing both the money and the credit cards which had been in it. Enough remained, however, to identify him?his driver?s license, travel insurance, employee ID. He was Japanese, an executive in the US on business. The police phoned the Japanese embassy, who merely thanked them for their call. Not interested, it seemed.

?Mr. Saito/? the nurse called his name, or what she assumed was his name, when she saw his eyes flutter. He opened them briefly, and tried to say something. Unfortunately his lips were too badly swollen. Both his eyes were black. He had bruises over most of his body. It was still impossible to know the extent of the internal damage, but four ribs had been set, and cuts and scrapes had been cleaned and bandaged.

?Mr. Saito?? the nurse called again. This time he opened his eyes. ?Good morning. Konnichi wa.? His eyes registered recognition, his mouth tried to make a smile.

?Are you Mr. Saito? Kiyo-ichi Saito?? She said the name slowly, unsure of how to pronounce it. He nodded, and as he did seemed to come to the realization that he was in the hospital. She reached over and took his hand. ?You?re going to be ok,? she said, wondering how much English he understood. ?Arigato,? he replied, then closed his eyes.

He remembered his wife and children, and suddenly felt overwhelmed with loneliness. He tried to move, but discovered a tube in his arm, a strap to hold it steady, a foot in some sort of sling. It was then that the pain struck. He grimaced. The nurse watched, became worried, pushed the call button, and summoned the doctor.

Kiyo-ichi Saito. Forty-two years old. Graduate of the University of Kyoto, where he had majored in English literature. In the US for several weeks, on a business trip. It was his first trip tp the US, and it had not been easy. Beside the business there was little to occupy him during his trip. He was traveling alone, and soon took to the hotel/motel bars as an after-work source of diversion. But he had trouble understanding the bar tenders, so only ordered beer?one bottle or mug after another. It became routine. Meetings with prospective clients during the day, drinking alone in hotel bars at night. The longer it continued, the less confidence he had. He wanted to go home, but was only halfway through his trip. Now?.who knew what would happen?

He tried to turn to see where he was, but the pain in his neck was just too strong. Instead, he let out a cry of pain. It shocked him, because it came from a place?a part of the body?that he was not familiar with.

At that moment the nurse came in. She looked at him, said hello, with a very serious smile, and did a quick check of his vital signs and figures regarding his present condition. She began to talk to him, then stopped.

?Do you speak English?? she asked. He gave no sign of understanding what she said, although he returned her serious look with one of his own. ?Oh no,? she said, quietly.
?Koko, doko?? he said.
?What??
?Koko, doko?? he repeated.
She reached over and patted his hand. ?It?s OK. We?ll get this worked out.?
She left the room and went back to the nurses station, and asked if there was anyone who spoke Japanese. As she feared, there wasn?t. She wrote down the two words on a piece of paper, while she still remembered them clearly, and then got online, found an automatic translation site, and tried, without success. Finally her search engine suggested a ?learn Japanese online? place, that had a link to a webpage that was only for Japanese-English, and English-Japanese. She keyed in ?koko doko? without success, then tried ?koko? and got ?here.? ?Doko? turned out to mean ?where.? He had asked her where he was. Two words had taken her half an hour to decipher, and there were other patients to attend to. Nevertheless, she went back to his room with a piece paper that had the name of the hospital written on it. She handed it to him to read, and he seemed, finally, to understand.
?Domo.? He said, a half smile in his eyes. ?Domo arigato.?
She beamed. Those words she knew.
?Domo arigato,? she repeated, and patted his hand.
?Gotta run, but I?ll be back,? she said as she turned and headed out the door.

He slept. The next morning he was able to say a few words to the nurse who was on duty. Everyone was relieved that he did in fact know some English. He understood that his condition was not serious, but that he would be hospitalized for some time. His travel insurance would cover the costs. Someone brought him a cell phone, and he was able to call his section manager and tell him where he was, and, very briefly, how he had come to be there.

In fact, that was what the police wanted to know as well. That afternoon, when the manager of the San Fransisco office arrived, it was with an interpreter. Their arrival happened to coincide with that of Sergeant Thomas, who had been sent to make an initial interview.

Mr. Saito explained as well as he could. He had been depressed, so had gone to a bar he had been to a few days earlier, expecting that there would be live music. Finding that there was none, he had sat at the far end of the bar, so that he would not disturb anyone. He could not remember the name of the bar, but was able to describe the bartender. He had no idea who his attackers were, how many there were, or why they had attacked. He remembered throwing himself in the river in order to get away, but remembered nothing after that.
?Smart move,? the policeman said, ?you probably saved your life by doing that.?
After the policeman left, Mr. Ito asked every question again, to make sure that nothing had been left out, or misinterpreted, in translation. He agreed that Mr. Saito had been smart in throwing himself into the water, but emphasized his stupidity in going to such a place to begin with.
?The US is a very dangerous place, and there are many white people who do not like us Asians,? he cautioned. It was not the first time he had made that kind of comment. Saito listened quietly, nodding. He was happy when they left. He longed for silence.

The nurse came in about half an hour later. She was beaming, again. ?Konnichiwa,? she said, not at all sure of the correct pronunciation.
?Konnichiwa,? he repeated. ?Good afternoon.?
?My name is Sarah,? she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. He took it.
?I am Kiyo-ichi. Thank you for your kindness. I am very glad to meet you. ?

Over the next few days, every time Sarah was in his wing she would drop by Kiyo-ichi's room, and spend a few minutes talking with him. Gradually his English became more fluent, and it was obvious that he knew a great deal more than he was able to express. Sarah, for her part, also tried to use a new expression in Japanese each time. Her interest in Japan had been aroused, and she began combing the newspapers for articles. She discovered the local library was pretty useless, and complained about the matter at the young adult group at her church, and discovered that there was a young man who sometimes attended who had lived in Japan for a number of years. She sought him out and got him not only to agree to help her with her Japanese, but also to go to the hospital with Sara to meet Kiyo-ichi.

The young man's name was Alec. His parents had been missionaries in Japan, and he had lived there as a child. However, he disagreed with the ?holier than thou? attitude of some of the missionaries, and had cut himself off from that part of his background. It was Sara's need, and her enthusiasm that brought him back to it. He began to realize, through her, that his rejection of things Japanese was not at all necessary, and was, in fact, a rejection of himself. When he heard about what had happened to Kiyo-ichi, his heart immediately went out to the man, and he saw another reason not to cut himself off from Japanese culture.

Whereas Kiyo-ichi was gradually becoming more and more fluent in English, Alec had not spoken Japanese for over half a dozen years, and was extremely rusty himself. Still, he knew a great deal more than Sarah, and was immediately able to serve both as translator for Sarah and to begin to beome Kiyo-ichi's friend himself.

Kiyo-ichi, he discovered, was not at all happy with his present work. His interest was in literature and in music, and he had played in a band throughout college. The need to find a ?reputable job? to please his parents, and grandparents, who had sponsored his college education had taken precedence over the kind of work he would like to have found. The bar that he had been in the night of the incident was one that a live blues band every Friday night. He had been there the Friday before the incident, and had gone back again a few days later, hoping to find the same warm atmosphere that had greeted him before. Unfortunately, the bar had been nearly deserted, with the result that he had sat alone downing drink after drink.

Alec himself liked blues, and immediately suggested that the two of them go out together, as soon as Kiyo-ichi was well enough to leave the hospital for a few hours. He invited Sara at the same time, and was delighted when she accepted the invitation. Thus ended their first meeting together. Alec excused himself, and left Sarah and Kiyo-ichi to talk together. He was anxious to tell her about his wife, and their children. Sarah realized that he must be very lonely for her, and asked if he would like to call home. Tears came into his eyes at the suggestion, and he quickly nodded his head yes. He explained that there was about twelve hours difference in time between where they were in the US and where he was in Japan, and arranged a time when he could make the call. She didn't know how she was going to arrange it, but was sure there must be some way.

That night Kiyo-ichi slept well, free of the nightmares he had been having when he relived the incident in his sleep. He dreamed, instead, of his wife and family. He was homesick for them but not at all excited about returning to his job. In fact, he dreaded it. If only there were some way that he could stay in the United States. But what kind of job could he possibly get here? He decided to use the rest of his stay in the hospital to think about what he wanted to with the rest of his life.

Alec, on the other hand, had difficulty sleeping. He was confronting a part of him that he had tried to hide. He dreamed he was back in Japan again, walking up the long, steep granite steps to a shrine overlooking the ocean. He dreamed he clapped his hands, bowed, and prayed to the gods, and as he prayed the image of an old man with a flowing beard appeared to him. ?Come,? the man said, ?we are waiting.? He said it first in Japanese, ?Oide. Matteiru kara.? Then in English.

Alec finally got out of bed and made himself a cup of coffee. He stared out of the window of the living room at the empty city street, and suddenly longed for the country. He opened the door, went out on the porch, and sat on a chair. He was still there when the newspaper boy delivered the morning paper. They waved to each other, silently. He had to go back to Japan, he realized. 2710

hi
this is my first entry in this journal.
its justajournal, but I hope to like it.