The Obaachan Manifesto*

*To be updated as necessary.

Introduction

My experiences in Japan have already been colored by many memorable obaachan encounters. There are, of course, as many types and individual eccentricities of Japanese obaachan (literally "grandmother," more loosely "old woman") as there are types of any sort of person. It seems, however, that much of my contact with obaachans can fall into a group of distinct categories, which are as follows.


The Oh-You-Teach-My-Granddaughter/Grandson/Great-Niece-Twice-Removed! Obaachan

This category is probably the largest and has the singular ability to always catch me off-guard. I'm usually stooping to tie my shoe, fumbling for car keys, or sizing up a small farmer's stand to determine how many bugs are likely to be found in ~that~ particular head of lettuce. Out of all obaachans, they also understand the least rudimentary English and have the heaviest local accent, making communication all but impossible. This is particularly trying (for both of us) as they try to describe their particular distantly-related relative whom I teach. [In the obaachans' defense, I still don't know all the names of all of my students, and in my defense, there are >300 students whose names I'm trying to remember and many of them resemble each other]. These obaachans are always good-natured, however, and usually leave me feeling very positively about them, their relation, and the world in general. They sometimes also try to shower me with presents, from vegetables to small candies they'd tucked into their purses presumably for just an occasion.


The I'm-A-Million-Years-Older-Than-You-Are-And-Therefore-I-Know-How-to-Micromanage-Your-Life-Even-Though-We've-Never-Met Obaachan

This type of obaachan is the most frustrating for the duration of an encounter. Looking back, however, I get the most amusement from them, if only for their audacious persistence. I still chuckle sometimes, for instance, at the obaachan who peered into my shopping cart last fall, spotted the 500 yen small package of fresh figs among my other selections, and told me I shouldn't buy them because they were over-priced. (She didn't tell me where I could find cheaper ones, of course, because there were no other cheaper ones... they're the first fresh figs I'd ever seen in a grocery store and, indeed, were only available for a few weeks around the time of our encounter).

Oooo, I still get a little annoyed just thinking about it. That was nothing compared with the obaachan encounter of today, however. I was driving along a narrow side-street -- barely enough room for one car-- and discovered an obaachan walking in the middle of the road. Squeezing off to the side (next to the railing beside the river)-- since she did not budge from the center of the road-- I crawled at a snail's pace until she was past and then resumed normal speed. Soon I reached my destination but had trouble deciding where would be best to park.. there wasn't much room and I didn't want to block the street. I'd just reached the building I was heading for when said obaachan came barging over, stormed between me and the person I'd come to talk with, and started telling them how bad my driving was. She went further-- oh the drain of my usual bountiful reserves of patience -- to say that when she first saw me, she worried that it was my first time driving.

Now, I can almost ignore the rudeness of interrupting a conversation. But to tell someone in my presence that my driving is ~that~ bad? ... it's beyond rude, it's insulting. Maybe she didn't think that I'd understand her Japanese. It's a sad characteristic trait of this type of obaachan, though, that they speak with perfect clarity and little trace of a local accent. I nearly almost understand exactly what their beef is and how they think I should change my life.

In today's instance, though, there was not even a trying-to-be-helpful "Why don't you do X instead of your youthful and irresponsible choice Y?" comment. It hurt, too, because I take pride in being a careful driver (some would probably say too careful), but no one over here thinks that I can drive because of the driving-on-the-left thing.

To summarize... this type of obaachan is one of my main pet peeves. They get under my skin and stay there, although I'm sometimes later amused by their audacity. While I don't approve of their blunt methods or rudeness, I do appreciate their honest opinions. Much of Japanese speech is shrouded in polite nothings, like delicate wrapping that must be teased apart from a fragile package. These obaachans' speech can be a refreshing change from that norm.


The Farmer Obaachan

It should be noted at this point that any particular obaachan can, at different times, fall into many different categories. This is a manifesto of 'obaachan encounters,' not obaachans themselves. That being said, the Farmer Obaachan encounter is usually passive; I see Farmer Obaachans tending their fields, hauling their vegetables around in little carts, and shuffling down the road from one field to the next.

There are two distinctive physical attribute, the first being their walk. After decades of laboring stooped-over in fields, these obaachans are usually unable or unwilling to walk fully erect. They are permanently hunched-over, to varying degrees, and shuffle along the side of the road as if they used a cane (which they don't). I thought this was very sad at first, but they are generally happy and love to make plants grow, so they don't seem to mind the toll that the effort has taken on their bodies.

These obaachans' second physical attribute is their complete inability to color-coordinate. Granted, they're working and sweating in the fields most of the day, so one does not expect the fashionable name-brand clothing of the younger generations. However, even the all-for-comfort, anti-fashion-police little old me is forced to reject their blue-background, flower-patterned pants paired with a green jacket layered over a peach shirt, all topped by a deep purple-background, flower-patterned Little House on the Praries bonnet. It's simply too much.

However much I disapprove of their fashion statement in general, one has to applaud their individuality and creativeness. I couldn't dream an outfit like that up.


The Driving Obaachan

Japan is probably one of the few countries which makes identifying obaachan drivers easy. There is a special "Old People's Sticker" that obaachans (and ojiisans, or 'old men,' to be fair) can slap on the back of their car. It's tear-shaped -- appropriately coded for the reaction of the driver who happens to land behind them -- and half orange-red, half yellow.

In Tsushima's winding mountain roads, there are occasional turn-offs along the side of the road. They're meant to help in narrow areas for smaller vehicles to give larger vehicles more space to maneuver. Because passing can be dangerous and difficult, generally slower vehicles also pull over into these turn-offs to allow faster vehicles to pass. Driving obaachans, however, rarely if ever use the turn-offs. If you get stuck behind a driving obaachan, you are most likely stuck there for awhile. Since driving obaachans also usually drive at speeds well under the speed limit, if you get stuck behind one you will most likely be late for whatever you were trying to get to. One has to wonder if they ever check their rear-view windows or if their eyesight is simply too bad to make out the blur of a car behind them.

I can't currently think of anything good about driving obaachans. In addition to the above, they also have a tendency to pull out in front of moving vehicles with very little time for the moving vehicle to slam on the breaks to prevent crashing into them.


Conclusion

Obaachans have many facets and intriguing qualities. Sometimes I love them, sometimes they truly irritate me.... but they're always fascinating. I strive to find the uniqueness and the good that is in obaachans and make those qualities my own.