Problems with the word "イギリス" (Igirisu): An analysis from a Scottish Perspective

The flag of the 'United Kingdom' (the 'Union Flag', or the 'Union Jack').

The UK is most commonly referred to as "イギリス" (Igirisu) in Japanese.

Unfortunately, this throws up more than a few problems...

Oh boy, where do we start?

One particular complaint I have with the Japanese language is with the word "イギリス" (Igirisu). At first glance, the word seems simply to refer to the United Kingdom. So far, so good.

As I've mentioned before, I was born and raised in Scotland, which is referred to in Japanese as "スコットランド" (Sukkotorando). When introducing myself, I refer to my nationality as Scottish - a "スコットランド人" (Sukkotorando jin). Again, so far so good.

One problem. What happens when you want to mention England?

A basic map of the countries of the UK, as lifted from Wikipedia.

Pretty straightforward.

The flags of the UK countries (again, lifted from Wikipedia).

From top left (clockwise); England, Wales, Northern Ireland and Scotland.

The logical conclusion would be that you'd simply 'Japan-ify' the word for 'England' using the katakana phonetic system, the same way Scotland turns into 'Sukkotorando'. England, then, becomes "イングランド" (Ingurando). Indeed, this term is usage in Japanese, and can be heard on occasion by Japanese people when referring to England.

Unfortunately, England is far more commonly referred to as "イギリス" (Igirisu). In this way, in everyday usage, Japanese language fails to make a distinction between England and the United Kingdom.

As you (should) know, the United Kingdom consists of four countries; Scotland (my own), England, Wales and Northern Ireland. Scotland, England and Wales exist on the island of Britain (collectively known as 'Great Britain'), while Northern Ireland refers to the six counties of the island of Ireland which are also a member of the UK (though are not, of course, on the island of Britain). Easy enough to draw a map around this.

The formal translation of the UK's full title - 'The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland' - is actually "グレートブリテン及び北アイルランド連合王国" (Gure-toburiten oyobi kita airurando rengou oukoku). A tad unwieldy in either language, and it's understandable that a short-hand would be sought out. Yet we've gotten by simply by saying "UK", and surely "イウーケイー" ("iu-kei-", approximately pronounced as "UK") would suffice. Yet instead, "イギリス" (Igirisu) is the most common term used.

Many people tell me there is a bit of a misunderstanding on my part: that "イギリス" does indeed mean "the UK". I don't believe this to be the case when referring to common usage, however.  Not only does it sound a more than bit like "English" (as in In-gu-ri-shu), there are countless examples all across Japan of the term being equated with England rather than the UK.

A display of countries in a Japanese elementary school I visited.

Needless to say, I notified the staff of the error.

A label on the children's book "1 hunter" by Pat Hutchins at an elementary school.

I cannot tell if the label was applied by the British publisher or within Japan.

From a display at the Toyota Techno Museum in Nagoya.

At first glance, Google Translate - not an authority on language translation by any means - certainly indicates that these terms should be treated separately.

 

'England' as "イングランド" (Ingurando).

The nouns of 'Britain' and 'England' are equated.

 

'Great Britain' as "グレート·ブリテン" (Gure-to·Buriten).

'United Kingdom' as "イギリス" (Igirisu).

Look closely for the translation for England, however, and you'll notice that as a noun it is equated with Britain (as highlighted in red).

To see if the other countries of the UK were equated with Britain, I decided to check Google's translation listings for them as well. Unsurprisingly, they were not.

Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland as translated via Google.

None of these countries are equated with Britain as England is.

Another noun presents a similar problem; "英国" (Eikoku). This is somewhat difficult to translate, as most likely this would refer to the "United Kingdom." Yet the kanji character here is shared with "英語" (Eigo), meaning the 'English' language. In "Eikoku", 'koku' means 'country', while the 'go' in "Eigo" means 'language'. It is clear, then, that the "Ei" is equated in both cases. The country referred to and the source of the language are considered to be the same.

Google presents us with an interesting case study.

According to this translation, the words for Britain and England appear to be interchangeable.

It's a common problem, and clearly the lines between 'England' and 'the United Kingdom' have been blurred in the language here. The Japanese, for the most part, usually see the Union Flag as solely indicative of England. Of course, all UK citizens share a "British" nationality (and it's that nationality which appears on our passports), yet "Igirisu" does not seem to encompass three of the four nations that includes. The Scottish JETs I know all say the same thing; the students who hear they come from "Igirisu" seem to think that we're English, and seem absolutely perplexed when we begin to try and explain the different countries of the United Kingdom to them. To call oneself an "イギリス人" ("Igirisu-jin", or "UK-person") is in essence to call oneself an English person, which in our case is simply factually incorrect.

The real bugbear, of course, is that many attempts at clarification do fall on deaf ears. I can only speak on my own experience, but I am frequently making this clarification to many people I meet in Japan (both at work and in my daily life). More of than not, I have repeatedly explained these distinctions to the same people, only to have them forgotten again by our next encounter. As a Scotsman, I do find it more than a little offensive for my culture, nationality and identity to be so easily dismissed.

One must also be aware, of course, that there are plenty of Japanese citizens with a great deal of international knowledge, and many with a great deal of foreknowledge on the structure of the United Kingdom. There have also been plenty of people who have accepted my clarifications or gone to great lengths to look into the issue for themselves. After all, certain regional areas of Japan having been less exposed to the internationalisation process and Japan is still a relatively new player in global international politics (it was not so long ago that it was a "closed country" for 400 years). Certainly people living in rural Kagawa prefecture are far less likely to have met global citizens than people living in the heart of Tokyo.

It is also unfair to pick on the Japanese exclusively in this regard. This can be seen as indicative of a wider global problem. With the majority of the UK population (over 80%) living in England, it is naturally very common for all British citizens to be referred to as "English" across the globe, as any Scotsman who has travelled with tell you. Many people fail to realise that "British" refers to any UK citizen, while "English" refers to the inhabitants of only one of the four countries within that union. I've encountered this ignorance from Americans, Canadians, and many others besides (including, of course, some people within England itself).  Japan is quite far removed geographically from the UK, and it's media exposure of the UK is most likely far more restricted that that of it's immediate neighbours. Additionally, it is a certainly that plenty of people within the United Kindom fail to know much about Asian countries (regrettably, I've met more than a few up and down the UK who couldn't tell the difference between Japan and China).

However, my point is a contention with the language. The English language - and many others besides - includes words which can indicate with precision these distinctions. The Japanese language in practice frequently does not accommodate for these clarifications. Ignorance within the population does not excuse or make acceptable the inaccuracy of the term itself, and one cannot help but observe that by confusing the words for 'Britain' and 'England' they have become almost synonymous.

An encouraging clarification from a student's dictionary.

A student's doodling of the UK flag.

Completely accurate!

Despite my best efforts to tell the students I meet that I am a Scottish citizen within the United Kingdom, I am only one JET. We Scottish JETs are few and far between, especially in comparison to the huge number of English and (especially) American JETs working on the JET programme. I can only hope that those JETs are teaching the British flag as the flag of the "United Kingdom" rather than that of "England", though I do fear this may often not be the case.

Earlier this year, I was waiting for a train when a middle-aged Japanese man approached me to ask (in English) if I needed help with the timetable. I assured him I was fine, at which point we got talking. When he asked where I was from, I told him I was Scottish, which was met with a flicker of instant recognition in his eyes. "Aha! Great Britain's neighbour."

A different misunderstanding, to be sure. Yet certainly indicative of the wider problem.

Eiji Yoshikawa's 'Rumble in the Jungle' Movie Screening

Eiji Yoshikawa.

Eiji Yoshikawa is a fascinating man. A trained boxer who lives in Kagawa, Eiji has travelled the world on what he calls his quest to "fight for peace". He has lectured internationally and runs a fascinating blog on his website where he shares his views, which I highly recommend. I've been lucky enough to have met Eiji a handful of times, and he really is a lovely guy with a lot to say about modern Japan, international relations and global humanitarian concerns. He also runs an English school in the Ayagawa area.

I recently attended a film screening hosted by Eiji in the Ayagawa area, where I watched a cut of his film "Rumble in the Jungle". You can watch the trailer below.

The film is the story of a boxer Eiji met from the Philippines, named Cirilo Espino. Eiji trained with Cirilo in the Phillipines, and filmed time together over a series of events covered throughout the documentary. The documentary touches upon the poor quality of life for many in the Phillipines, and their struggle to try and improve their quality of life against their adversity.

I can't say too much more for fear of giving away the full story, but it's quite an emotional journey with a few shocking moments where tragic living conditions are spotlighted. It's an inspiring film.

I was thrilled to attend the screening, as an enthusiast of independent film-making myself. I popped along with Stephen Branston and Angela Fukutome, who also gave our feedback following the film. It was a very enjoyable afternoon, and quite a moving and revealing one.

You can find out more about Eiji on his website, here.

Learning the Shakuhachi

The Shakuhachi: a classical Japanese instrument,
pictured with some Japanese tea and sheet music.

As mentioned in an earlier blog post, I did a small presentation in March on the subject of Scotland at Kagawa IPAL (the international centre in Takamatsu). I spoke to a local community group about my country, it's history and it's culture. The group was run by a man named Anabuki-sensei; a retired English teacher and a shakuhachi enthusiast. As a thank you for my participation in his group, he asked if I would like to start learning how to play the shakuhachi under his tutelage. I readily accepted.

 

Standing with my shakuhachi teacher, Anabuki-sensei. 

The shakuhachi is a traditional Japanese instrument, a type of large flute normally constructed with bamboo. Based on the style of Chinese bamboo flutes that came over to Japan in the sixth century, the Japanese have developed the concept independently into it's own distinct instrument. It has long been associated with Zen Buddhism, and the concept of Suizen: a form of blowing meditation practiced by the Fuke sect of Zen Buddhists. Shakuhachi are often played alongside koto and shamisen, two other famous Japanese instruments.

 My shakuhachi teacher: Anabuki-sensei.

A kind man, generous with his time and patience.

With a long history intertwined with the history of Japan, the instrument is a distinct cultural artifact of Japan, and perhaps somewhat obscure in the West. Having a chance to practice this instrument offered a fascinating insight into authentic Japanese culture and history, and I was very keen to have the opportunity to learn how to play it.

Shakuhachi sheet music. Unlike the Western style of writing music,

these compositions are written from right to left, top to bottom,

and use a series of Japanese katakana to denote distinct sounds.

Almost every weekend (since around the start of May), I head on over to Anabuki-sensei's house near Enza station in Takamatsu City to practice playing the shakuhachi. It can be quite a trek to get there - around a forty minute cycle, or a bus / train ride combination that takes around an hour. As we usually practice in the early morning, it can be quite difficult to force myself out of my bed (especially on a Saturday morning!), but learning the shakuhachi has been a challenging and rewarding experience thus far. I'm thoroughly enjoying it.

 Anabuki-sensei performs while Tamara takes a snap.

My shakuhachi companions: Matthew Wright and Tamara Thomas,

pictured with Anabuki-sensei.

Two of my friends also practice shakuhachi along with myself: Matthew Wright and Tamara Thomas. Matthew is a former JET from England who teaches business English in Takamatsu, while Tamara is an English teacher from Jamaica who teaches English to younger children. Of course, as we all have differing schedules, it can be hard to get us all together at the same time. However, practicing with them has been a great opportunity to get to know them both better, and I've thoroughly enjoyed their company.

 Matt admires the beautiful garden at Anabuki-sensei's house.

The incredible koi in Anabuki-sensei's garden.

As shakuhachi are traditionally very expensive, I have been practising with one Anabuki-sensei's own shakuhachi for the last few months. However, the time will come when I may need to invest in one of my own: a somewhat expensive purchase, but all the more reason to keep up the practice!

 Matt and Tamara stand with our gifts of home grown cucumbers

straight from Anabuki-sensei's garden.

Here's a link to a solo shakuhachi performance that I've listened to on YouTube. The instrument makes a very distinct sound, which may be familiar to Japan enthusiasts. I can't say I can play this well yet (I certainly have a long way to go), but this definitely a skill I aspire to grow and develop at throughout my time in Japan and beyond.

Enjoy!

AJET Charity Ball

First published: 1 May 2013

Classy.

In June, our local AJET group ran a Charity Ball to raise more funds for the victims of last year's earthquake and tsunami disaster in Tohoku. JETs from all across Kagawa (and some of the other Shikoku prefectures) popped over to the Sunport Tower in Takamatsu for some ballroom dancing.

I was lucky enough to be offered a kilt for the evening by fellow Scotsman Richard. As I don't have a kilt with my in Japan, it was gratefully received, and I managed to go to the event in the traditional Scottish style! Sadly, there was no ceilidh dancing on the itinerary, and I'm afraid my dancing skills may have left much to be desired. Still, it was a fun evening, and we all had a great time.

Here's a selection of photographs from the evening.

Representing Scotland with some shameful footwork.

For anyone interested, AJET is an organisation run by JETs which primarily aims to create social events on the local level and communicate directly with the big bosses of the program at CLAIR and MEXT at annual conferences. I don't know much about what specific campiagns or aims they may or may not have, though... However, the local AJET contingent certainly do a good job setting up social events!

Volunteering in Tohoku - Part Three: Farming & Farewell

First published: 21 May 2012

Disclaimer: Last time I'll say this! A lot of these images aren't mine, and lifted from other sources. then again, a lot of them are mine. Anyway, check out the INJM Facebook page, as pretty much every image that isn't mine on this page came from there. Thanks guys!

 Assembling greenhouses in Miyagi, Tohoku.

Our last day volunteering in Tohoku was going to be a bit of a surprise. We were unaware of what to expect, as the rest of our week had been dominated by working on the 'Playgrounds of Hope' project. As it transpired, Danny and I would be spending our last day assisting on the construction of a new crop farm, whilst Rainer went off to build and fill in the wood chip enclosure on the jungle gym at the Pinnochio site.

 Rainer applies the finishing touches.

Attached to a new team, Danny and I were off at 7.30am (!) in order to drive the hefty distance to the site and make our 8.30am start time.

This was our earliest start, and it was one heck of a long trip. Thankfully, we made a brief run to a local combini store and picked up supplies before starting the day. I decided to employ an old trick I'd use to keep myself awake during my all-nighters at university; early morning ice cream. I was wide awake in no time.

 My silhouette is ready for action.

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As we drove, I began to see far more of Miyagi than I had experienced that week. Only a little further on from the Pinnochio school was a collection of small, metal houses which had been assembled as temporary accomodation for those who had lost their homes. The sheer number of these was an eye-opener; hitting home when an old woman emerged from one of the front doors as we passed. Further on, more collections of abandoned cars began to appear. It was a harrowing reminder of just how many people here had been affected by the disaster.

For a while, the scenery turned into beautiful mountainous countryside - reminiscent of driving through the Highlands or the borders in Scotland. Eventually, though, we came to the biggest area of damage I had seen, in Shizugawa.

I cannot emphasise just how devastated this area actually was.

 

Shizugawa, Miyagi Prefecture. Absolutely devastated.

Driving through this bleak location is an experience I'll never forget. The images I saw looked exactly of what I had seen on the television one year prior; absolute destruction. It seemed as if absolutely no restoration had taken place whatsoever. Only a few buildings remained standing; those that did were evacuated, falling apart, crushed, or simply abandoned. One sat almost at a 45° angle, while another had a car washed onto it's roof. The ground was almost completely flattened, with minimal signs of life anywhere; right next to the coast and looking out onto the sea, it was obvious that this entire area had been almost completely washed away. As we passed through, our car fell silent.

Other than passing cars, I only saw one other individual on the ground - a Japanese teenager in school uniform cycling his bike. He looked like he could be a local resident; I wondered where he stayed and where he would go to school. I couldn't imagine what seeing this scale of destruction unfold upon your home town would feel like, but I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.

I encourage you to do more research on Shizugawa. Some of the most iconic images of the tsunami and it's aftermath are from this area. Be aware, however, that you may see some harrowing images.

Not my image: taken from a Google search of Shizugawa after 3/11.

Luckily, most of the wreckage has been cleared away now.

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We drove further on to the site of the farm, which was being built on higher ground along with a new farmhouse for the residents. It was easy to see why this decision was made; almost all of the areas above high-ground were still intact and secure, where the tsunami hadn't reached them. The farm was a modest size, surrounded on all sides by forestry. Driven to the site by a warm Australian under the psuedonym 'Hippy' (?),  we pulled on our overalls and set to work. Our challenge today was to assist the farmers by assisting in the construction of greenhouses.

 

Farming time!

It was a bit of a strange day, and certainly the odd one out of our experience by not having Rainer around. The task was so vast in scale, due to the amount of work that needed to be done, that we knew from the get-go that we wouldn't be able to help the farmers finish assembling the greenhouses on a single day. The work had already started earlier that week, and proved to be much more straightforward than that presented to us when assembling the playgrounds. The farmers were constantly providing clear guidance, as opposed to the crazy instruction manuals for the jungle gyms which contradicted themselves at every opportunity. Even though the farmers could only speak in Japanese, communication wasn't an issue due to the proficiency of the members of our team (myself not included). Work was steady, and efficient, and it felt refreshing to work in a new environment with a new group of people.

The team get to work while I search for a hammer
(and take a couple of photographs).

Our first job was to ensure the metal frames were secure. Composed of interlocking metal strips, our job was to secure the locks by knocking them into place with a hammer, and make sure everything was tight and connected for the plastic sheet to fit over the top. Minor niggles occurred to due a shortage of tools and the wear on the materials (most, if not all, appeared to have had previous use), but we worked with confidence and at a steady pace.

 

Securing the hinges.

As we progressed, another of the greenhouse frames became ready for its cover to be attached. All of the team moved swiftly over to the frame, and worked as a cohesive unit with everyone on site to firmly attach the sheet to the frame. With the wind blowing, it was a bit of a challenge, and at first, I was a tad frustrated as both sides of the frame asked me to assist them - meaning I moved back and forward aimlessly for a moment as I had no idea where to work from. It was an unusual process which I had never seen before; one person manually using a long twisted wire to tightly trap plastic behind it into gaps in the steel strips (was that clear?), whilst everyone else held the plastic sheet firmly in place at either side. Both sides worked in unison until the length of the greenhouse was firmly attached. Finishing quickly, we stood back as the final securements were made. I felt a minor sense of achievement; I'd never done that before!

Now this was an interesting experience...
Attempting to cover the frame of a greenhouse with plastic.

Lunch was generously served by the farm workers; a heated box of fried rice with some miso soup. Again, it made a refreshing change from the daily trips to the combini - but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that I wouldn't be able to justify spending 2000円 on food that day (as had become the standard).

A damn good lunch time, but I do miss my combini fried chicken.

Carrying on after lunch, myself and an American girl named Nikki began constructing some of the doors for the near-finished greenhouse. Unfortunately, this involved cutting steel pipes to size in order to attach them to the door frame for fitting the plastic to. Realising a manual saw wouldn't do the job, I got to live out one of my fantasies as I was granted access to a power generator and buzz saw. I cut through the steel poles with orange sparks flying everywhere (as a side note, whilst I of course wore safety glasses, absolutely none of the Japanese people on site bothered with them!). Attaching the poles with screws and a power drill (not a particularly easy task), we affixed the plastic and were primed to attach the door... with one hitch. The man who had been instructing us on what to do had unexpectedly headed off for the afternoon, and none of the other farm workers knew how to affix the door to the structure. After several guesses and attempts (including my go-to solution - "build a trench!"), we couldn't get it fixed onto the front. Bugger. Oh well, at least they were made.

Achievement!

As the sun began to sink down, so did the temperatures and the workload. Come around 5pm, Trevor arrived with an INJM-mobile to drive us all back to Ishinomaki. It had been a fun experience working on the farm, and a refreshing change from the stressful days on the playground sites where we had been constantly second-guessing ourselves. It was good to meet more people from other areas of Miyagi, from a completely different community who still had their stories to tell. Yet, while we had finished the playgrounds in our week of volunteering, much work remained to be done there. Having no experience with this type of thing, I wondered about the timescale of crafting a fully functioning farm environment again. As we drove home, I made sure I recorded as much of the coast as I could on my video-phone, but sadly the battery and memory capacity were failing me.

And so, we came to our last night in Ishinomaki. If I remember correctly, I didn't go to the onsen that evening, but instead had a shower at the INJM base. It had been an exhausting week, and I was taking it easy. I took the opportunity to pack my belongings away, and to chat with the other volunteers whilst awaiting Rainer's return. We had our final dinner, and Michihiro and Yutaka (who were leaving this evening, and had worked on a different project that day) began their journey home to Akihabara; but not before inviting us to come and visit them on our journey home! As it happened, Rainer and I had both previously agreed that we intended to stop by Akihabara on our way home, but now we had a firm reason to go. After playing a few bouts of Draw Something (which Danny had gotten me hooked on during my time there), it was lights-out, and I passed out almost immediately. After a week of hard work, it felt great to lie back without need of an early rise.

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One thing I haven't yet mentioned about the INJM base was the presence of the on-site cat. While unfortunately, I can't remember it's name (shameful!), I do know that it was homeless after the tsunami incident, where her tail had been broken and - so I have been told - she suffered a miscarraige. As a cat lover, I felt terribly sorry for this cat, as she currently had no home to go to and was being cared for by INJM while they looked for a new owner. I enjoyed playing with her in the evenings, as a reminder of my own cat - Smudge - and also just because I have always enjoyed the company of animals. I seriously wished I had been in a position to take care of this cat - partially because I missed my own cat, but more so simply because I wanted her story to have a happy ending. Unfortunately, for myself, this was impossible; I'm not allowed pets in my current accomodation, and taking care of a cat in Japan would cause a great deal of headaches when coming home to Scotland (as well as an extra expense I just didn't believe I could afford). It's a great shame that no one had been found who was able to take care of her.

Sorry, Moggy. I really do hope someone gives you a safe home.

I really regret not being able to help this cat.
I sincerely hope she finds a home soon.

---

The morning we left Ishinomaki was surprisingly relaxed. As I'd already packed my belongings, I had an opportunity to relax in the kitchen area with the other volunteers prior to their own departures for work. Saying a few final farewells, I munched down on toast and felt incredibly relaxed. It felt good to know that I'd given a week of my time on behalf of those less fortunate that myself. After breakfast, Trevor drove us out to the local AEON mall where we waited for the bus that would take us to Sendai station. We got our final look around Ishinomaki as we drove through. It was definitely showing signs of steady recovery, but it was no overnight fix. The restoration work in Ishinomaki would likely continue for years to come.

As it happens, I made one final donation to INJM; my blue jump-suit! I left it on site for any subsequent visitors who felt like wearing something a little different from the standard red and yellow suits. If you're heading over to INJM and pick this up, then you'll be wearing my very own gear. Enjoy it.

My parting gift to INJM.

On that same weekend, opening ceremonies and parties were held at both of the playgrounds we had helped to build.

The opening ceremony at Pinocchio International Preschool.

I was sorry I wasn't there.

It was regrettable that we were unable to attend, but we had to begin our journey home (and, of course, had arranged our travel before we knew these were being held). Seeing the photographs shortly afterwards on Facebook lifted my spirits. After working so hard for so long at these sites, to see children finally playing on them made all of the hardships worthwhile. The children looked like they had immense fun, and I think the INJM members who represented the group there can feel very proud of this achievement indeed.

Seeing the children play on our work makes it all worthwhile.

I can't help but feel an incredible sense of achievement looking at this.

Helpling out in Ishinomaki was an incredibly rewarding experience, and one that I hope I'll be able to experience with INJM again in the future. The biggest challenges involved were the cost of travelling there - not cheap from Kagawa! - and my desire to find a lengthy period of time to go, so as to really offer as much as I can. It certainly wasn't easy to arrange, but INJM's incredibly flexible schedule makes it a much easier process. I'll forward to giving them my time again in the future. They're a fantastic organisation.

We drove along contentedly on the bus to Sendai station, the three of us arranged in single file on fold-out chairs that fitted down the middle of the aisle (a pretty good idea to get more bums on seats, actually). I took the opportunity to unwind with a book and a fully charged iPhone. At Sendai station, we intended to have lunch before our travel, and sat in one of the station cafes only to realise how tight our schedule was and that we didn't have enough time to eat and make the train.

Cue awkward standing up and shuffling out.

A few hasty omiyage and snack purchases later, we were on our way.

Next stop; Akihabara, Tokyo.