Caught between patriotism and assimilation
Essay by Dr. Yuko Fujimura (2002)

1. Life on a tatami in Singapore
Several years ago, I visited a friend of ours, a Japanese executive whose company had sent him to work for a time in Singapore. He lived in a luxurious condominium situated in a prestigious area. Stepping into his house, I was stunned to see a flat object at the center of the living room. It was a set of six portable tatami mats. The mats looked like an exotic carpet occupying only a minor part of his spacious living room. "The whole size of this set is about the same as any room in our house in Japan," the host calmly explained. "We brought this so that we don't lose the sense of space available to us when we go back. And also, we brought this so that our children do not forget the manners required in the Japanese traditional room."

This friend's almost stoic rationale could be considered an extreme case, and yet it well represents the typical spirit of Japanese who often are called expatriates, people I would rather call "sojourners." Given a spacious house, a maid, and driver, and perhaps a golf course within a 20 or 30-minute drive, they are always aware that "their paradise" will not last long and that they will be repatriated sooner or later. "This is just a temporary stay" or "I'm going back anyway"' are pet sayings uttered by most of them.


2. Japanese sojourners
Some Japanese sojourners try to get involved with the local people and culture as best as they can, while others confine themselves within their own community. I do not think these two contrasting attitudes are peculiar only to the sojourners from Japan; you will find them as well in sojourners from other countries. I believe that the attitude of a sojourner will ultimately depend on his own character and the facilities he has in the country where he lives, rather than on his nationality. Sojourners who are curious and extrovert in nature have a more personal and cultural involvement with local people than those who are not. Among the former type are those who mingle with people in various local communities and activities. There are wives who work on a volunteer basis at local clinics and nursing homes or teach Japanese language at academic institutes.

Their activities do not readily come to one's attention because each act occurs individually. On the other hand, the same sojourners may flock together for golf, meetings and dinners, and this is when the collective aspect of their behaviors becomes a paramount focus of attention. Also, the Japanese sojourners who confront a language barrier readily confine themselves to their own community in so far as they are provided with the facilities that minimize their inconveniences. The reason that Japanese sojourners in Singapore are often said to be clannish lies in the fact that many of them have more of a language barrier than sojourners whose mother tongue is English. In addition, they are blessed with Japanese-speaking facilities in Singapore in education, healthcare, entertainment and much more.

Again, this is not peculiar to the Japanese. Any sojourner with a language handicap naturally looks for this sort of social shelter. That is the case with some American families who do not leave their military bases in Japan, or a certain number of Germans who shelter themselves in their own well established community in Mallorca, Spain.

Whether they blend or not with the local people and culture, what is characteristic of most Japanese sojourners is that they live facing their home country rather than Singapore. Most of them are businessmen employed by Japanese companies whose main office is in Japan. These businessmen are strongly tied to their company and aware that their performance in Singapore will determine the quality and rank of the position they will be given in Japan when they return. Singapore for them is a transiting spot and not a destination. The image of their life back in Japan frequently flashes in their minds and this provokes two contrasting attitudes. Some try to make the most of their life as a transit passenger because they "will not have such opportunities again" whereas others remain in their prepared shelter because they "will get back to Japan sooner or later."

Japanese supermarkets and prestigious restaurants in Singapore are full of these sojourners and are converted almost into a "little Japan." To get ingredients for Japanese cuisine or enjoy Japanese delicacies is not difficult in Singapore. This does not mean, however, that the Japanese sojourners have never stepped into local facilities such as wet markets or hawker centers (the Singapore version of food courts). In fact, there are any number of Japanese who enjoy these facilities, but it is because they find them interesting or exotic, and not because they find them indispensable for living in Singapore. Also, most Japanese are naturally very concerned and sensitive about what is going on in Japan in terms of politics, economy, fashion, and so on. Japanese newspapers and news reports on TV are available in real time. Thus sojourners can easily survive without local papers and news programs if they wish. On the whole, they "live in Japan" while staying in Singapore.


3. Japanese long-term expatriates
The term "expatriates" is broad indeed and needs to be further refined. There are other Japanese expatriates who do not have their return ticket flashing in front their nose, nor are they living in the "paradise" of a spacious house with maid, and a golf course near by, etc. The image of the former type of Japanese has been stereotyped so much that the existence of the latter is overshadowed. I shall use the term 'long-term expatriates' to refer to the latter type. The term "expatriates" as I am using it in this article does not include Japanese who live in Singapore as a result of marriage with a Singaporean.

There is a wide range of variation in this group of long-term expatriates. Their lifestyles vary according to their income and social status. Such would be the case of a successful entrepreneur who started his own business in Singapore, or of a chef, of an employee at a local or non-Japanese company, a professor, a mover, a teaching assistant, a florist, a lawyer, a hairdresser, a doctor and so on. The most prominent difference found in them compared to sojourners is that they live facing Singapore, not Japan.

A long-term expatriate is more independent from "Japan." He does not deny at all the possibility of repatriating but it is he who determines the date of his repatriation. He stays in Singapore because he has opted for it. Singapore to him is not a transiting spot but one of the destinations of his life. He mingles with the local people and culture as well as the extrovert type of Japanese sojourners. However, the reason is different. His involvement with the local people is motivated by social and emotional necessity rather than interest, and an affection rather than pure curiosity. To be a member of Nihonjinkai, The Japanese Association, is to him a matter of choice not a company requirement. It is also true that his life is more tense than that of the sojourners who have home company subsidies. If he quits his job, he will have to look for a new job on his own in Singapore or elsewhere. No employer waits for him in his home country. To have a luxurious condominium and maid, car and driver depends entirely on his own effort. He may have to pay for his house, car, and health insurance by himself. In fact, there are a number of long-term expatriates who live in modest houses or just in rented rooms, and commute to work by public transport because they cannot afford to buy a second-hand car. Golf, Japanese newspapers, and top restaurants are out of their reach. Some of them observe the Japanese sojourners in a cynical manner, feeling that "I am not that type of Japanese. I am different." Many are afraid that they will not be able to adapt themselves to the Japanese social system if they go back to Japan. And yet, they are not Singaporeans. They are Japanese expatriates in Singapore.


4. Being an outsider
Is there then any shared spirit between the sojourners and long-term expatriates? I shall introduce the example of a Spanish nun to answer this question. In February 2002, the nun left Tokyo for good. She had been in her early twenties when she first stepped on the soil of a country that had been miserably scarred by World War II. She then devoted her life for half a century to educating young women studying at a college in Tokyo. What she felt about Japan and its people was beyond her ability to express in words, and she knew that there would be very few relatives left alive back in her home country, and yet she could not resist going back. She said she needed to end her life where she was born. She added, "I am not Japanese. Do you remember that?"

I think what drove her to return despite her tremendous love for the people of Japan is a spirit common to both types of expatriates. To live as an "ex-pat" often suggests the life of someone who is on a temporary stay in a country that is foreign to him, such as the case of the Japanese sojourners. However the length of their stay does not seem to be a crucial key to determining the fundamental characteristics of the expatriates.

In terms of patriotism toward his home country, and the sense of assimilation he feels to the country where he lives, an expatriate differs from the immigrant or the naturalized citizen. An expatriate knows, or at least thinks, that he will leave the country one day no matter how long he stays there. The longer his stay lasts, the more assimilated his thinking and actions become in the eyes of the locals, but his patriotism does not diminish correspondingly. He implicitly considers himself an outsider regardless how much involved he is with the local people and their culture. Being an outsider, he is able to find, appraise and enjoy, or criticize and suffer from whatever occurs in his surroundings. So it was with the Spanish nun, who for five decades loved her students as if she were their own mother, but never forgot to observe her surroundings and offer sharply critical comments.


5. Transition--From a sojourner to a long-term expatriate
After almost ten years of living in Singapore, having good local colleagues and friends, and being surrounded by Singaporean students every day, sometimes I have even come to think and behave as they do. I have also gained skill at code-switching from English into "Singlish" whenever the situation requires. I know the specific places to get specific items, or if I am at a loss, I know how and where to ask for information. I do not feel isolated because I have established a good human network. Things and matters that used to surprise or upset me during my earlier years are now common and normal to my eyes. And yet, I still identify myself as an "ex-pat".

I have lived in different countries, but never stayed for so many years as in Singapore. The ten years of my stay in this area have been truly an interesting period of transition. My life in Singapore started with that pet saying, "This is just a temporary stay." I never planned to come to Singapore. I was simply ready to live in any country where my husband was transferred. That country happened to be Singapore, which was followed by Malaysia. It was not easy for me to leave the career I had in Tokyo. However I was eager to see something new. I left my country with a calm mind, thinking, "I'll be back in a couple of years or so." Ten years later, however, I am still in Singapore.


6. Exchange of dependency
After a few years of keeping myself busy as a typical "ex-pat's wife," entertaining people who visited Singapore from abroad, I got involved in an academic sphere pertaining to Malay linguistics, and now I teach at a university in Singapore. Instead of entertaining the VIPs of my husband's company from Japan and attending social cocktails and dinners, I now deal with local students and attend conferences of an academic nature. Meanwhile my husband--the main reason for my coming to Singapore--retired from his company, and we have moved from his company house to my university quarters. We underwent a peaceful exchange of dependency and now he remains in Singapore because of me.

As I mentioned, Singapore has good facilities such as clinics, schools, restaurants, and department stores where Japanese sojourners can get along comfortably speaking only their native language. This "Japanese-friendly" condition, on the other hand, prevents many sojourners from getting involved with the local people and environment. When we first arrived, we were pleased to have such conveniences, but at the same time we knew that being pampered would waste time and opportunities. This awareness has brought us some truly good local friends with whom we can exchange valuable information and ideas everyday. "Japan" is absolutely present in our daily life even now, but we are sure that we live facing Singapore. Singapore has become one of the destinations of our life although we know that we will leave this country for good someday.


7. A sepia post card
I had never imagined these outcomes of our life in Singapore. I had planned my life well--at least until I left Japan ten years ago. The planning has not worked since then. It seems as if I just happened to come to Singapore and just happened to get a degree in Malay linguistics. As a result, I now enjoy my life with my family, colleagues, friends and students. But has all this really happened by chance? It took me several years to discover that there was someone very close in my family who would have been very happy if he had been able to enjoy what I am granted now. I now wonder if he is the one who controlled various aspects of the life I have undergone in Singapore. He passed away before I came to Singapore.

In the 1930s, he was a Boy Scout and was traveling around Southeast Asian countries by boat on a good will mission. He never shared with me the experiences of those days. Nor was I very inquisitive. I knew about his trip because of a few albums he kept for seven decades. Years after his death, I was cleaning them up one day and was struck by an old sepia post card that was pasted together with other photographs taken during his brief sojourn in Singapore. The post card showed a row of poor houses built on the ocean. The title of the picture was "Native Dwellings, Tanjong Rhu, Singapore". At the time, I was living in a house located on "Tanjong Rhu Road." I knew that the area had been reclaimed recently and was formerly a part of the ocean. When I picked up the album to take a closer look at the picture, a thin, ragged bunch of papers slipped down from the last page. It was an old Malay-Japanese dictionary that was filled with his hand-written notes. These two incidents were sufficient for me to realize that I did not just happen by accident to come to live in Singapore or to become so much involved with the Malay language. There also was a picture of a young boy smiling proudly with the many souvenirs he bought during his trip. I said to the boy, "Father, I wish you could see me now. It took seventy years, but I made this journey for you."