The Duty of a Best Friend

Ken Jackson, UK

Ken Jackson has worked for most of his life as a teacher and head teacher in Primary education. He has worked in UK, U.S.A., Japan and in the U.A.E. He is now employed as an Educational Consultant in Dubai. His job consists of bringing speakers to the Magrudy Teachers' Centre to conduct seminars for teachers on various aspects of education. E-mail: ken.jackson@magrudy.com

Several years ago I was teaching in Japan and one incident remains sadly in my mind. Every Saturday evening I taught a children’s English class and through this I met one of the fathers of the children, Yoshida san. As he liked to practice his English we used to go drinking and eating every Saturday evening. We had such happy times and he became like a brother to me. The last Saturday I saw him he left with the words ‘See you next Saturday’ but I never met him again. The next Tuesday I had a phone call from his wife saying he had died of ‘karoushi’. The English translation for this word is ‘died of overwork’.

His wife invited me to his funeral. Yoshida san once told me when we were discussing religion and belief that the Buddhist believers hold to the view that the soul of the deceased remains above the house to make sure their family is all right. As I travelled by bus through the mountains and rice terraces to the funeral in this little mountain village I had the strong feeling that my friend’s soul was floating above, watching. This surprised me greatly as I do not believe in any god or after life When I arrived at the house the bosans, the Buddhist priests, were there chanting the sutras of the dead. My friend’s open coffin was in the room and I felt a feeling of deep sadness as I gazed on his lifeless body which, one week ago, had been full of a tremendous vitality.

I looked out of the sliding doors and saw four lines of my friend’s colleagues all dressed in black. There were maybe more than 300 people there. Beyond them I saw the rice terraces and the mountains and felt like an alien intruder. Suddenly I heard my name called and I was told I had to offer up incense three times, once for the Buddha, once for my friend and once for those for whom no one prayed.

The service ended and the body of Yoshida san was carried away and taken to the place of the burning. Each village has its own place of burning. Only his family accompanied his body. On their return we were given food and drink.

About three hours later my friend’s brothercame to me and said that he and I had to go to the cremation site. I asked if every one was going and he said that only he and I would go. I enquired ‘Why?’ He said, ‘ You are his best friend.’ I replied ‘But what are we going for? The brother said ‘Wait and see’.

As we approached the burning place I could see smoke rising from what looked like the remnants of a bonfire but on closer inspection I could make out my friend’s skeleton. I was given a pair of chopsticks of uneven length and told to pick out the adam’s apple, a bone from Yoshida -san’s leg and one from his arm and put them in an alabaster vase. This vase would later be buried in the family grave. I can honestly say that it was the saddest and most traumatic thing I ever had to do and , even now, I have night mares about this.

When we drove back the brother said that what I did was a great honour to me. In a strange way I felt pleased that I had done this for my dear friend, Yoshida-san, but when I returned back to my job I made it quite clear to my friends that, although I liked then, I was not their best friend