Highly Effective Train Travel

The sun creeps behind the swooping edifice of the Sanyo solar ark and creates an office-block sized silhouette of a banana on nearby rice paddies. The bespectacled man beside me is reading a translation of “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People” and katakana speckled motivation charts line the pages, urging readers to be the ideas man (アイディアマン) and to innovate, effectively. Unfortunately, his comb-over is not as effective as his reading material and he has to reach up and brush away the wisps that catch in his glasses every time we swing around a bend. The rest of the train is filled with high-school children, half from what appears to be a well to do girl’s prep school, and the other from the local special-ed school.

After careful observation, I’ve decided that Japan is unique in its treatment of young adults with down syndrome, primarily because its method of keeping them occupied is to issue them with a train-pass, put them on the first passing train with an “atta-boy” and leave them to their own devices. I’ve talked before about the curtain of invisibility that surrounds those doing anything out of the ordinary but I always find it fascinating to watch. In this instance you have a ten year-old shrieking with delight as he swings up and down the carriage on the provided hand rails, feet never touching the ground.

In the corner three other children, also with down syndrome, stand and plot loudly. They take it in turns to walk to the other end of the carriage where a fourth kid sits rocking back and forth, touch his nose until he looks up, then slap him in the face as hard as they can. They do this for about 15 minutes before the seated kid gets up and starts walking up and down the carriage ogling the girls, who respect the curtain of invisibility and don’t even spare him a glance, even when he hovers centimetres from their chests, zipping and unzipping his pockets.

The train creaks to a halt at a tiny rural station as we wait for the limited express to pass us and all the kids pile out onto the platform. The intrepid trio of bullies form a circle and investigate a rubbish bin on the platform, whilst the girls adjust their socks, and flip open jewelled ketai to begin texting. My man with the comb-over has given up being effective, has fallen asleep against the window, and is dribbling on his book.

I still find it hard to believe that every time I get on a train in this country, the occupants turn as one and stare at me.

Posted in Japan on Tuesday March 24, 2009.