KQED-FM SAN FRANCISCO
"PACIFIC TIME" RADIO SHOW
2-Minute Reports from Arudou Debito Broadcast December 2000
SHOW ONE: Broadcast December 15, 2000
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Hello America, this is Dave Aldwinckle in Sapporo, Japan.
Today's topic: Turning Japanese.
You might not have guessed it from my name, but I am a Japanese citizen. My appearance
is equally deceiving--I'm six foot, green eyes, heavy-set, and about as Caucasian
as you can get.
Nevertheless, I just went through the process of becoming a naturalized citizen of
Japan"
Now why would I do a thing like that? Let's take inventory.
First, I live here. Have done so for thirteen years, a full third of my life. I
have a house on a nice piece of countryside land, and a Japanese wife and two kids
to fill it. It's home, and I'm happy with it.
Second, I really can't leave. I have a rewarding university job I doubt I'll find
elsewhere. I have a satisfying lifestyle with lots of friends. And I have a 30-year
mortgage--and at 3% interest rates you really can't beat it.
But the biggest reason is that I like it here in Japan. Food's great. I'm fully
proficient in the language. And I enjoy the intellectual challenges and daily interpersonal
adventures that a white boy gets over here. So I thought, I'm here for good, so
why not finalize it?
Well, how about the fact that Japan often promotes itself as a homogeneous society,
and there might be some resistance to accepting a Caucasian into the fold? I might
claim I'm Japanese, but who'd believe me?
Well, I'm not quite that Japanese. I don't worry much about other people think.
Fact is, no matter what I do I will stick out--and after all these years I'm used
to it. So I might as well stick out in a way that is more to my advantage.
Hey, I pay taxes and contribute to Japanese society the same as anyone else. But
without citizenship I have no say in how things are run. With it, I can vote in
general elections, participate in the democratic process. Even run for office.
I may very well be made to feel like a foreigner the rest of my life in Japan. But
that does not mean I legally have to be one.
That's the whys. I'll tell you more about the hows next time. Thanks for listening.
This is Dave Aldwinckle, or as it says on my Japanese passport -- "Arudou Debito",
in Sapporo, Japan
Read at a comfortable rate: 2 minutes 30 seconds.
KQED SHOW ONE ENDS
KQED PACIFIC TIME SHOW TWO
Broadcast December 22, 2000
Hello America, this is Dave Aldwinckle / Arudou Debito in Sapporo, Japan.
Last time I told you why an American, yours truly, would take out Japanese citizenship.
This time let's talk about the how.
Becoming a naturalized citizen anywhere is hardly ever easy. First, there's always
a paper chase, documenting that you have followed the laws of the land, paid your
taxes, et cetera.
Then there's demonstrating language proficiency. America gauges it through a social
studies test. In Japan, candidates must show a third-grader level of ability. Not
too bad. All standard procedure.
But there's a few more hurdles behind Japan's application. All native-born Japanese
have a detailed family register going back several generations. Likewise the wannabe
new citizen has to create one. So you must import a raft of foreign papers indicating
who your relatives are and how they relate. You also must indicate whether or not
these parents, grandparents, and siblings approve of your naturalizing.
Then submit photos of your workplace, your house exterior and interior, even draw
maps to show police how to get there. You have to remember every address you've
lived at since birth. Oh, and write an essay on why you want in. Like a US government
employee security check.
Finally, demonstrate how assimilated into Japan you are. Ministry of Justice judges
may come to your house, open your refrigerator, look at your children's toys, even
talk to your neighbors. I asked officials if I have to wear kimono or eat some of
Japan's more challenging delicacies. But they said, No. Just don't make us feel
something is strange.
That's a tough call. I am a six-foot, heavy-set Caucasian with green eyes and speeding
tickets. They said it would take one to two years for the Justice Minister to grant
permission, and only around 20,000 people get it each year.
But believe it or not, I passed. It took me eleven months. I must not have been
so strange after all. So far so good, knock on wood.
Thanks for listening. This is Dave Aldwinckle/Arudou Debito in Sapporo, Japan.
Comfortable reading time: Two minutes three seconds.
KQED PACIFIC TIME SHOW TWO ENDS
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KQED PACIFIC TIME SHOW THREE
Broadcast December 29, 2000
Hello America. This is Dave Aldwinckle/Arudou Debito in Sapporo, Japan.
Today's topic: Japanese names.
I am a naturalized Japanese citizen -- my papers came through a month ago. In order
to apply, I needed a name that can be written in Japanese characters. Of course,
I could just keep my original name. But Japanese is a syllabic language and it slices
up English dipthongs beyond recognition. Hence "Aldwinckle" becomes "Arudouinkuru".
Yuck, right? But what to change it to?
I thought, why not just a shorter and cleaner version, like "Arudou"?
But my wife nixed that. She's intimately involved in this decision, because in Japan,
married couples must have the same family name. No hyphenation here -- and since
there are no middle names either, neither of us could emulate Hillary Rodham Clinton.
Then there's esthetics. Japanese family names are very nature oriented: Suzuki means
belled tree, Tanaka means middle rice paddy, and so on. Now, "Arudou"
could be translated as "Having a road", which I thought was nice. But it's
a weird combination of characters that nobody would be able to read at a glance,
and my wife didn't want to spend the rest of her life explaining it to people.
So why not take my wife's family name, Sugawara? Yuck. Too vanilla for me. And
I felt an attachment to both of my own names.
A student at my university solved the problem. "Take Sugawara as your last
name. Then make your first name ArudouDebito with no space in between. "This
is how some children of international marriages in Japan can get away with having
middle names -- they just write their two names as one big long word, and it's perfectly
legal.
Bingo. My wife and kids remained unscathed with their Sugawara surname, and whenever
the context isn't strictly top hat and tails, I can drop Sugawara and split my first
name in two.
The moral? This is one way people like me, who want to preserve our individuality,
can survive in a rulebound Japan. We learn all those rules and then find ways around
them.
But when Japan's bureaucracy will give in to popular opinion, and allow middle names
or hyphenated families, nobody knows. It's the game of the name.
Thanks for listening. This is Arudou Debito in Sapporo, Japan.
Comfortable reading time: Two minutes 24 seconds.
KQED PACIFIC TIME SHOW THREE ENDS
FEEDBACK:
Date: Mon, 01 Jan 2001 10:27:05 -0800
Subject: KQED
From: AMC
To: <debito@debito.org>
Dear Dave:
Thought you might enjoy hearing this...
I returned home to Berkeley, California, for Christmas December 22. It was a normal
workday for my friends and family, so I had to take the Shuttle Van from the airport.
The driver was unusually chatty, and wanted to know where everybody was coming from.
When I said Japan, he said to me, "Do you know this guy Dave Aldwinckle?"
"Curious that you should ask," I said. "I met him just recently
and have been following his story of becoming a Japanese citizen and his fight against
racial discrimination for some time." "Well, he was on the radio, you
know," the driver said. "Is it true the Japanese are prejudiced like that?"
"Actually, it's a big country," I said, "and you find all types, but
yes, those things happen." Everybody in the car wanted to know the details,
so five people talked about racial profiling on the ride from the San Francisco Airport
to Berkeley that day.
I managed to get you the first day you were on thanks to your note about KQED carrying
the story on the web, but I missed the subsequent programs. I was delighted to see
that it had made a splash.
That night, I was invited to a friend's house for Hannukah dinner. There were a
bunch of people there I had not met before. One was a student at Stanford. When
we were introduced and he learned that I lived in Japan, he asked me, "Have
you ever heard of Dave Aldwinckle?" The coincidence was stunning -- twice in
one day -- and it became a topic of conversation again.
KQED, as you know, is the major radio station here. The only one I listen to, and
then only when I'm driving. But obviously, if these two cases in one day are any
indication, there is no shortage of people who picked up your story. Some of them
appear even to remember your name!
All the best for the New Year. AMC.