Japanese Stiff-Upper Lip: Please Avoid Fukinshin

My mother's golf pro called to tell her he was going home to Canada for two weeks. A server at a restaurant heavily frequented by expatriates told me foreigners were showing up with their suitcases and having one last meal before flying out. Some foreign companies and embassies were advising their staff to leave. I suppose all of that is not surprising with three explosions at nuclear power plants and predictions of major aftershocks. In fact, just as I began to write this, my CD rack started rattling and ceiling lamp swaying. Another temblor.

But my family just canceled an opportunity to get away from our country. Several months ago my parents had arranged for my son and me, along with my brother's family who lives in New York, to join them on a visit to their friend's beach home in the Philippines. How lovely it would have been to relax in that oasis, not to mention take a break from the anxiety-raising tremors and fear of radiation exposure. (See pictures of the aftermath from the Japan quake.)

Such reveries were far from my parents' mind, however. "I don't know about the Philippines," said my mother the night after the earthquake struck on Friday. Huh? Having spent close to half of my life overseas, I didn't immediately get the connection between the devastation up north and our holiday plans.

Over the next few days, my mother frequently used the word fukinshin which roughly translates as indiscreet or inappropriate. It would not be right for me to wear fancy clothes, like the kimono I had planned to put on, for example, to my son's upcoming elementary school graduation ceremony. We shouldn't rejoice, and certainly should not display our joy, when others are suffering so much. (The school must have agreed with her mentality because the entire event was canceled.) (See pictures of Fukushima on the brink of disaster.)

My mother also didn't want to inconvenience her neighbors. She said her sister, who lives next door, would not be pleased if she had to deal with any possible earthquake damage to my parents' home in addition to her own. Along those lines, my mother felt that I, too, should refrain from going away so I could hold down the fort of my apartment. Her thoughts reminded me of the TV images I saw of female employees in a shop desperately leaning up against shelves to keep items from flying off while the building shook wildly and furniture crashed about. I supposed it would be bad if I were not around to clean up a water leak or fallen planter that infringed on someone else's property.

My father also joined the reluctant travelers. "The nuclear situation is very serious," he said. And he didn't mean he was worried about himself getting radiation sickness. Rather, as a former prominent executive who remains respected in the business community, he felt he should be on hand, just in case a corporate matter relating to nuclear energy or the power companies arose that he could advise on. (See how to tend to Japan's psychological scars.)

Foreigners might think that my parents' attitude sniffs a bit of the self-important of a martyr complex. But I believe it is that kind of extreme respect for others that has kept our country so calm during this turmoil. From early on, I was confident we would have no looting. The closest I have seen to disorderly conduct was one man cutting into a long line to board a commuter train. Of course everyone around was too polite to protest.

How did we make a final decision on our trip? My brother, who is American in mentality from his many years residing in the U.S., really wanted to go but he pulled out as well. He concluded it was too much trouble to fly to Japan where he was going to join us, considering the chaos at the airport from all the expats fleeing.