Strindberg had suffered from his imaginary persecutors and created his punishment apropos of nothing. He called it, his inferno period. On the other hand, my inferno was real, and my persecutors were the worst niggardly creatures walking on two legs under the sun. Strindberg’s inferno period was in France; my inferno period was in Japan. I was destined to endure four years-nightmare, so that I can show the world how corrupted Japanese work environments are and how degraded Japanese have reached. God has given me the precarious mission to reveal Japanese churlishness to the world, and I obey Him like a humble servant. Thus, I hereby open my shameful wounds. Here we go!
It was on the middle of December 2007 at Tokyo. I had been tormented by the meanest colleagues, that the world had ever produced yet.
I was heading to Tokyo Station, and violent gust of wind was constantly blowing on my face in order to remind me that I was in purgatory. Wintery blast chilled me to the marrow. It was a second years of my inferno period – I was hopelessly dejected. Every time I saw gusty skyscrapers, the bitter loathsome feeling gnawed at my heart. While I was walking on a street of sorrow with my head down, my heart was screaming, “How long? Ah Load, how long do I have to endure my colleagues’ meanness?” I had to witness their wicked acts every single day at an office. In fact, I was almost reaching at the end of my tether.
I decided to go to a café to warm up myself before catching a train. After I ordered coffee, I found a table at the lugubrious corner and collapsed on a chair. I was exhausted body and soul. “I had better quit this goddamn job before I am crashed to pulp,” I thought lamentably. I was enervated to be recalling how I let myself put into the shameful state of affairs. It had started a half and two months ago….
It is past 9:00 p.m. and the time for me to resume writing. I bid good night to Jorgito with an amiable handshake and promise him that I will never reveal his dishonour to anyone. And I walk out the office.
As I hit the street, the sky is already dark with twinkling stars. I walk on the streets leisurely with my hands in my pockets. When I come to the middle of the bridge, I halt, so that I can take a good look at the highway and night views. From here I can see the illuminating buildings and starry night sky. It is one of my favourite spots to brood over, looking at cars wheeling-by. The night is quite warm. Cool breeze is caressing my cheeks. I am lapsing into reverie. What Jorgito said is indeed true. When he was a slave, he constantly complained about his boss and constantly got stressed out. At that time, his illness was worse, and he was worried about his rectal bleeding at no end. However, he is now in his own way and doing what he loves, somehow his condition of the illness is getting better. On top of it all, he looks happier by comparing to three years ago when he visited Japan. At that moment, I had spent one of my miserable periods in my life there to boot. I was constantly depressed and stressed out because of my ashamed job and unimaginable mean colleagues. I had forever suffered from their meanness and churlish behaviour. The work environment made my illness unbearable, that I have no doubt. However, like Jorgito, I am now doing what I love every day, I am far away from Japan and mean colleagues, and I am happy by surrounding with my friends in Mexico, my illness has been getting better magically as if I had never suffered from it. I still cannot forgive my diabolical colleagues for showing me unpardonable wickedness and making me yell at the top of my lungs in the public from desperation, “I am a shit man!” Whenever I think of Japanese meanness and devil-may-care demeanour, my blood is boiled by rage, and a revolting shudder shoots through my whole being.
When I turn back to look at the past, I think how much time has been wasted, how much of it has been lost misdirected efforts, mistakes, and idleness, in living in the wrong way; and, however I treasured life, how much I sinned against my heart and spirit – my heart bleeds now as I think of it. Life is a gift, life is happiness, each minute could be an eternity of bliss.
I am looking at the celestial sphere with eternal reverence, and I am thanking God for being born under the lucky stars and for sending me wonderful friends into my life. I am relieved and gratified that I am in Mexico; not in Japan. I am heading back to the apartment slowly and jovially with a full of grace in my heart. Far away from my own country, I become a human being again. I have finally started living my life to the fullest despite of fact that I should have started it for a long time ago.
After Gerardo enjoyed reading my tragedy thoroughly, he wrote me back:
Ha-ha-ha… My friend, I tell you that your e-mail was extremely funny (well, just for me), because I guessed that it was not funny for you; you were very desperate when you wrote it. I wish that your stomach condition will be better soon.
Well, I have an appointment with my doctor on the coming Monday. I feel much better now; however, most of days I have fucking diarrhea. I do not know why I have fucking diarrhea all the time. Maybe, because of alcohol or spicy food, but I am not sure. I absolutely understood the trepidation when you said that you are afraid of going out, because you do not know whether you might be going to shit in your pants. Really, trust me, my friend – I have been there and in your shoes countless times. It is horrible when you cannot hold a caca. Once out of desperation, I started yelling at Almighty Lord in heaven, “Lord, why did you choose me over other billion people? Why did you particularly choose an innocent Mexican boy? I have to go to work, so stop this unpleasant sensation on my stomach in this right instance. Please I beg thee!” But He never answers my prayer as He ignores yours.
Anyway, why did your intestine get inflammation? As I know, you neither eat spicy food nor drink a lot. I think that your meals are good, and you always eat very healthy food. Perhaps, tobacco causes your illness, since you smoke a lot as me. Or perhaps, Japanese atmosphere causes your illness. Maybe, you are stressed out. You should leave Japan for good as soon as possible, man, ha-ha-ha…
My friend, you cannot bang girls anymore, ha-ha-ha…. Oh my God, what a shame! Because when you start banging a girl, you might get the unpleasant sensation on your intestine and might get UC attack. And the worst situation is that you might scatter shit all over a bed while you are banging a girl aggressively. So, you will be virgin again for a very long time, ha-ha-ha. I do not think that you can survive without banging though.
All joking aside, stop worrying, my friend. It is in your mind. I think that you are always afraid of shitting and constantly think about a bathroom which make your illness worse. I really think that it is a kind of psychological problem. For that reason, please stop thinking about your illness and try to think about something else. I assure you, my friend, that this is in your head. You will be fine, so please stop worrying. Take all the medicines that the doctor has prescribed for you and try to stop smoking. Well, Mr. King of shit, ha-ha-ha…. Take great care of yourself and good luck to your stomach.
I was supposed to attend a lesson at the gym, so my initial plan was to read a book at home before attending the lesson, but it was cancelled. Hence, I changed my plan to go to Starbucks to read the book by walking on streets to enjoy the sun. And while I was reading the book at Starbucks, someone sitting next to me start to have a conversation with me whose name is Chris. He has married to a Japanese woman and has a 6 years-old daughter. He is an electrician and about to start a school about technology. It is quite amazing, since if the lesson had not been cancelled, I would have never met him. I did not expect to make a Colombian friend in Japan, but it happened. Life is so unpredictable – that is why life is fun to live!
I perfectly understand when Jorgito said that it was impossible for him to hold it. It is indeed true; it is just impossible, because when you get UC attack, you cannot control your bowel movement; you can do only one thing, surrender. I remember when I got a terrible UC attack and wrote to let Gerardo know about the opprobrious misadventure. At that time, Jorgito was as healthy as a spring chicken and had not had ulcerative colitis yet. Gerardo was worried about his stomach then:
Dear friend,
How do you feel about your stomach? I hope it does not distract you too much. I went to the hospital yesterday. The doctor told me that my intestine has inflammation that causes the rectal bleeding – that is why I cannot hold shit. That is the reason for going to a bathroom countless times a day, as if I were not a human being but an animal. And also, he told me that the exact cause of ulcerative colitis has still not been discovered yet: How can people get it, where it comes from, and how to cure it, and so on and so forth. Therefore, he cannot cure the illness completely, but he can keep my stomach in good condition with pills. Furthermore, my doctor told me that I will have to see him frequently, and perhaps I will have to keep on taking pills for next ten years. I suppose that I should see if pills can relieve the inflammation or if they can keep good condition on my stomach.
Only God knows how long I have to suffer from obsessing with shit and a bathroom. I thought that I could return my job from this Sunday on, but today I am not sure although my stomach has become little good to compare to the previous state. But alas, please listen to a poor orphan, my friend, I will tell you a horror that I have experienced this morning. Today I ate breakfast and let myself relax about an hour, because I was afraid if I went out soon, I would definitely want to go to a bathroom. Thus, I went out with good care, but alas, after forty minutes, suddenly, I got a strong seize in my stomach and immediately realized that it was UC attack, so I was frantically looking for a bathroom and dashing on a street at the top speed, like a man just grasping a missile landing toward him, but it was too strong urge, man! It was too forceful, like a tsunami which is impossible to stop, and shit came out like toothpaste. My friend, I was so humiliated and ashamed on myself; I could not hold it, which literally scattered in my pants. I eventually surrendered to such a horror as a raped woman, went to a bathroom as a vanquished warrior, silently washed, and whipped my underwear and pants as a devoted monk, so that I would go home to perform ablution.
After emerging from the bathroom, suddenly, an indescribable rage assailed me. I looked at heaven, made a most disdainful grimace on my face, that any human beings have not showed yet, crooked my left middle finger, raised it heavenward, and shouted at the top of my voice in the public in English, “Why Father, heavenly Father! What have you done to me? Do you want to punish me? Is it not enough that I am sent back to my prison and stay in Japan which has caused me so much distressed and made me depressed occasionally? Haven’t you heard of mercy? Why do I have to suffer from the most stupid thing on this earth every single day, that prevents me from doing anything? But shit, shit, shit, shit… damn it! Hey, heavenly Father, I will give you final notice before abandoning you! If you cannot rescue me from this miserable situation immediately, I will renounce you, I fully mean it!” And then I performed the most sacrilegious dance on the street like a native Indian and shouted, “I am a shit man! Do you hear? I am a shit man!” Then I went home as if nothing happened.
Gerardo, what do you think? I tell you that it is so ridiculous for a man to occupy his thought with a bathroom and shit all the time. Let me visualize you with some examples: what every victim of ulcerative colitis thinks first when he wakes up is that if he wants to take a caca. And then he eats breakfast and is worried if he is okay to go out, because he might be soon to get UC attack to look for a bathroom on a middle of his destination where he might not find a bathroom nearby. He is worried about if he can eat outside, because he might want to go to a bathroom immediately, even during a meal. He is worried about if he can take a train, because he might want to go to a bathroom on the middle of ridding that is impossible for him to go to a bathroom. The worst possible situation you can think of is that when he gets UC attack on a train, he knows that he cannot prevent from the disaster, since it is like an avalanche which no one can stop, even Almighty God, so to speak. He knows that if he goes out, he cannot have any pleasure, because he is always afraid of shitting and knows beforehand that he will get only shame and disgrace. I think that this is a very serious problem. Moreover, I enlighten you that ulcerative colitis is the most miserable and humiliated illness for human beings to be afflicted on the face of earth; therefore, please tell me how you would feel if you were in my shoes? And also tell me what your doctor will say, and if he knows how to cure ulcerative colitis when you see him. I am desperate, man! Please report back to me as soon as possible.
Give you a strong handshake with you in my thought. May God protect our stomachs from shitting, amen!
Shogo Onoe 