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Chapter Three: Sendai
Gibson was the last of my worries as I was packing to leave for Sendai: "Who will be my new companion? When do I get to be a senior? What's going to be happening? What are we going to do with the new companion?" I really did not want to deal with his inane questions.
"You will be fine, Elder. Just calm down. Your new companion is coming in on the noon train, so before I leave tonight, we will get everything arranged for all of your needs."
"You don't care, you are leaving."
"Elder Gibson, I have never said this to any other missionary in nearly two years in Japan. Sit down. Shut up."
He stared at me, and then decided to not challenge me. He sat down, and for nearly five minutes, he shut up.
"I am hungry."
"Peanut butter."
"What?"
"Go find yourself something to eat, like the peanut butter and bread and strawberry jam in the daidokoro."
"I don't like peanut butter."
"Then you must not really be from the South."
"What do you know?"
"Not much, apparently."
For some reason, he quit talking after that. I did not question it. It was nearly noon, I had finished packing, and actually I was hungry also. We decided to walk down the hill toward the main street, and get bento for lunch near the train station, while waiting for his new companion. I knew who it was already, the assistants had told me while we were in Sendai for taikai. Elder Chad Holmes was coming, perhaps the first black Mormon missionary in this section of Japan, and certainly an interesting combination for Elder-I am-from-the-Deep-South-Gibson. Either President Honda had a great and morbid sense of humor or was actually clueless.
I could not wait to see Gibson's face.
We sat on benches in the train station eating lunch from our bento boxes. I got two, since I was going to be trudging back up the hill one last time, to get my things for the late train to Sendai. I had planned on spending a couple of hours with Elder Holmes, in order to clue him in about how things were going locally, the branch leadership, the converts, the membership, and so forth. He probably did not need any prodding from me on how to run a branch, he had been a branch leader up north in Iwaki.
Contemplating my sushi and gyoza lunch, I noticed Elder Gibson was unusually quiet; for him, anyway. "You ready for this?" I asked.
He nodded affirmatively, but I think he honestly had no clue what to expect. I guess a mission is actually overwhelming in some ways, leaving home, being in a foreign place, learning a new and unusual language, having nothing surrounding you that resembles home, the food, the smells, the architecture, the living arrangements, having to answer to a companion twenty-four hours a day, the rules, the study, and then the sleeping: not fun. Over the fifteen-plus months I had been there when Gibson arrived, I guess I had become so accustomed to all of it I did not think about it anymore. Besides, I had David to think about, which made all of the difference.
We were startled by the early arrival of the train, Holmes was the first one off, a tall handsome smiling black man masquerading as a Mormon missionary.
It was incongruous enough that at first Elder Gibson did not realize what was happening. Holmes shouted at me "Choro!" and I smiled and took his luggage and shook his free hand. Gibson just stood there, suddenly struck by what had just happened to him. I introduced them, and Elder Holmes was extremely gracious, and shook hands with Gibson, and offered to buy us lunch, but we explained we had already eaten.
"I am starving, too bad there's no greens and cornbread around here."
Gibson could not stop staring. He did not know what to say. Finally, he drawled, "You eat greens?"
Holmes laughed. "Son, you have no idea. My folks invented soul food." "Oh, no you didn't!" Gibson started to blush, but then realized he was out-gunned. "Well, maybe we can share recipes!"
Holmes laughed, "Elder, I think we can get along just fine, just remember the Civil War is over, and we is both jes missionaries, so relax. We are gon be fine."
I had to laugh, and actually could not hide it. Apparently President Honda did have a sense of humor.
Holmes grabbed three bento boxes for his lunch as we trudged back up the hill, making sure Gibson carried his share of Holmes' luggage. Gibson made a show of trying to stay in the lead, even burdened with suitcases. I smiled all the way back to the apartment.
Holmes and I chatted about the area, the missionary work, the branch leadership, the recent converts, and the ways I had been thinking about expanding outside of the city. Our talk continued for another two hours, when I felt a great pressing need to get out and get gone and get to the train and head north. I insisted on walking back to the train station alone, as my personal belongings were now reduced, after more than fifteen months in Japan, to two large duffle bags, one on wheels.
The train lulled me to sleep; I had weird fitful dreams, mostly about running across the rice fields back home in Sacramento, being chased by something or by someone. I was not happy about these dreams, and had no idea what they meant. I woke up sometime after we passed Koriyama, and was awake the remainder of the trip to Sendai.
When I arrived, there were no assistants to greet me, so I took a taxi to the office. It was late, and so the office was closed, so I went to the rear entrance and found the door to the missionary quarters which led me up a flight of stairs to the apartment above. Elder Komatsu and Elder Wagner were sitting in the apartment, already disburdened of their office attire, and were wearing basketball shorts and t-shirts. They were a bit startled at seeing me, and I said "Well, guys, hope you are alright, sorry I did not call."
Komatsu said "We were expecting you tomorrow."
"No problem; just hope you have a place for me to sleep."
"Sure, you can have that top bunk over there," Komatsu pointed to the opposite corner.
Wagner said "This seems like a plum assignment, Campbell, do you know where you are going to go first?"
"Elder, I have no idea where to go first except to a shower and bed, and then I want to talk with you guys and the Prez in the morning. Maybe I should start at the top of the mission and work my way down?"
"Prez is out of town, he had a little conference with a couple of other mission presidents down in Tokyo, he will be back day after tomorrow."
"Should I wait to see him and talk to him before I get started?"
"No point, you know how he is: `Bring me solutions, not problems', that kind of stuff. Go for it Campbell."
"OK, then maybe the first thing I need is a list of the branches and where the missionaries are serving, and what kind of experience they have, so I can figure out where to put my energy."
It was a thinly-disguised attempt at finding David. I knew he was in the Sendai area, but we had only sent postcards back and forth, so I was not sure which of the four Sendai branches he was serving in, or if he was in one of the branches out in the country.
"Sure. Get some rest, we will talk over breakfast."
I was suddenly thrilled: this was going to be a cakewalk, I could set my own schedule, I could mark out my own territory, I could create my own set of lessons, it was going to be fun, I thought. The only factor I was concerned about was who the companion was going to be, because in the past I had had one or two I would rather drown. It turned out I did not have to worry: Elder Wagner told me that Elder Turner was going to be my companion.
Since every Mormon missionary has to have a companion, living with another man was usually not a lot of fun unless the guy could actually learn to get along with you without becoming a pain in the neck. Most were a pain in the neck. Turner was a great guy, funny, quiet, intellectual, and very organized. This was going to be a cakewalk.
Wagner awakened me the next morning; "You must have walked all the way from down south, you overslept."
"Sorry, what time is it?"
"Breakfast; come on over to the other room and eat with us as soon as you are ready."
I jumped out of bed and padded to the staff room, where Komatsu had prepared breakfast for the three of us. Mugi, cracked wheat cooked cereal, is not a great breakfast, although it is the most common thing missionaries in northern Japan have eaten for years, mostly out of tradition or laziness. There were also scrambled eggs, toast, and hot mugi tea. "You finally up?" Komatsu cracked.
"Nope, heading right back to bed as soon as you guys can get quiet and let me sleep."
"Not happening around here."
"What time is Elder Turner coming in?" I asked.
"He isn't, you are going to go get him, he is in Aomori waiting for you to show up."
"Oh, so my little vacation at the Sendai Hotel is going to be short?"
"Yep, tomorrow you head out again. Leave your major stuff here, this is your home base, but take just what you need for maybe a week on the road. Go pick up Turner, drop by a couple of branches on your way back, and be back here by next Saturday. You are speaking in church next Sunday."
"Great. No rest for the weary."
"Listen, farm boy, with your reputation for work, this should be cake."
It was; I just did not want anyone else to know that. I was delighted, actually, seeing more of the country, travelling, no convert class teaching requirement, this was going to be fun. "Did you already get me tickets for Aomori, or do I just go to the eki and grab a train?"
"Right downstairs in my desk", Komatsu said.
"Gosh, Mom, you think of everything!"
"Eat your breakfast and shut up, Elder."
The rest of the day went pretty smoothly, a quick morning meeting with the two assistants, who showed me all the trouble spots they were focused on for missionary training. It turned out I was really training new missionaries on the lesson plans that were used for teaching new converts, and using the language training as an excuse, but either way two birds were going to be shot down with the same arrow. I was to spend my first three days in Aomori, then Morioka, and then Misawa, and then back to Sendai. On the way I was to train Turner in how we were going to approach our assignment.
David was in the northeast Sendai branch, near the coast. There was no good or legitimate excuse to go see him at the branch, as it was not one of the designated trouble spots. If only Gibson was there!
I suggested to the assistants that while I was in Sendai the next week, I should rotate among the four branches in the city, just a day at each one, and see how things were going. They thought that was brilliant. So far, so good. I did not plan on alerting David, I wanted to surprise him.
Turner was just as I expected, eager to get out of a branch and get back to the center of civilization in Sendai, and eager to travel with me. He would be a great backup guy, a great wingman, and I appreciated his calm manner; he was organized and studious, and took charge of our scheduling around the mission. We decided to take a week up north, get back to Sendai by Saturday, and then spend Sunday during church services, and hit the four local branches all the next week, and then drop down south again and start slowly making our way northward.
The week in Aomori and the three nearby branches flew by; although I could hardly wait to get back to Sendai, it seemed like I had barely left. Sunday was quiet, after my short talk to the congregation, I spent most of the day outdoors thinking, writing in my journal, writing letters home, and thinking about what to do in the fall after I returned to California.
Toward evening, Turner and I took a walk and went to a ramen shop and had a light supper and returned home to the assistants' apartment and got ready for the coming week. Our first stop would be the northeast branch on Monday morning.
It was late March, the weather was dreadful, blustery and cold, rainy, and we were prepared for a miserable day. The buses were running late, and we had to wait more than a half hour at our first stop to get to the northeast side of town, so we were pretty miserable by the time we got off. It was a three-block walk to the missionary apartment, not too far in Mormon missionary terms, but far enough in that weather.
When we knocked on the door, at first there was no response; we wondered if they had gone out for door-to-door contacting but realized no one in their right minds would do that in this weather. Finally, we heard shuffling behind the door and a voice called out "Dare desu ka?" ("Who is there?") It was David's voice, although it sounded strange. I was a little worried.
"Morumon kyokai desu."
"Nani?" A worried sound from David's voice, and now I was getting worried.
The door opened, and he was standing there in his pajamas. He looked as if he had been crying. Now I was really worried, and as much as I wanted to rush in and hug him and fix whatever was wrong, clearly I could not do that with Turner standing there.
"Hey guys, what's up?" David asked sheepishly.
"Are you sick?" I asked immediately, frowning.
"No, yeah, maybe, kinda."
"May we come in?"
"Oh, yeah sure, sorry, I apologize, just kinda out of it a little bit, I was asleep. Sorry."
We went inside, and the apartment was a shambles. It looked as though either it had never been cleaned, or that a scuffle had taken place. In the dim light, I seemed to notice that David avoided eye contact with me and was not really ready to have any sort of conversation. I began to have a feeling of dread.
"So, guys, is this the Mafia, what are you two guys doing out on a day like this? Miserable weather. What's up?" David was direct with his questioning, and still did not make eye contact, so now I was truly worried.
"Actually, just a simple visit to drop by and see how you guys are, and ask your opinion on training, we have a new program to start training greenies, so the Prez has us travelling around to all the branches, and you are our second stop. We have been up north a little bit last week, and this week we are in Sendai, and going south again next week. What do you think?"
"Ah, well, yeah, that's great, sounds good, we don't need no training here Miz Scarlett, but glad you dropped by."
"Are you throwing us out already?"
"Heck no, Elders, but as you can see, I have been sick, so I was asleep when you came by, sorry. Maybe we can go get something to eat?"
"Sure. What about your comp?" Turner asked about his companion, whom we had not seen or heard as yet.
"Yeah, well, he is out with the zone leaders."
"Really?" Wow.
After a short pause, David looked at us both slowly. "See, we had a little conversation that did not go so well, and well, he took the day off, and the zone leaders thought maybe it might be a good idea for him to spend some time with them."
"And left you alone here?"
"Yeah..."
"Wow."
David grinned. "Yeah, wow," he repeated. He smiled, but only a little.
"Look guys, no offense or anything, but after we get something to eat, do you mind if I just take a nap, and so..."
"Sure." Turner answered for both of us. I was too upset to talk.
We took David with us to a nearby noodle shop, had big steaming bowls of udon with shrimp tempura, and walked him back to his apartment and quietly left. It was so awkward, I could not even talk as we said goodbye to him.
"Wow." Turner was trying to start a conversation with me.
"Elder, please don't make me analyze this, I just need a little time. Let's go back to the mission office and put our feet up and call it a day."
"OK."
I loved Turner.
Miserable weather.