Onkyo Braille Essay Contest 2006 -- Japanese Section ■Highly Commended "May It Play Forever, the Inspiring Song of My Life" Mr. Akira Yamamoto (40) Kaizuka City, Osaka Prefecture |
"Ding ding, bom bom." The clear ringing of a bell and the buoyant beat of a small tabor drum create a superb harmony. Added to that is a deeply resonant bass drum, which I can feel throughout my body, and the delicate sound of a shinobue flute. That's the musical accompaniment for the danjiri festival that takes place in Senshu, in southern Osaka. The type of music heard in Senshu is referred to as narimono, and people adjust the speed of the danjiri floats to match its tempo. While it may be unusual for a visually impaired person--and, what's more, for someone like me with no interest in music--that's the rhythm I love. Luckily, I had the opportunity to watch several festivals in the Kinki area, including the one in Senshu, to study different aspects of the danjiri, such as the artistry of the wood-carving. I was born with profoundly weak eyesight, and what's more, I could only see with one eye. Despite that, I went to a normal school and graduated from university. But when it came to job hunting, I ran up against a huge wall. I applied to dozens of companies, but was rejected by them all. Bear in mind that this was 18 years ago, when you were virtually guaranteed a job after graduating university. Eventually, one company offered me a position, and that's the company I'm working at now. I never thought I'd end up working in this field of business, but I can't complain. When I started the job, it was really hard. Co-workers were continually quitting. Realizing how tough it would be for me to find another job, I knew I couldn't easily quit. I tried so hard, with the support of the narimono ringing in my head. While I managed to keep my spirits up, it all put a lot of strain on that weak part of my body, my eye. It got progressively worse after joining the company. I gave up using ballpoint pens and switched to marker pens, and even then, after numerous surgical operations, I could barely see what I was writing. Then, one night in July 2003, I arrived home and saw nothing but darkness in front of me. I had become completely blind. The cause of the blindness was a retinal detachment. I underwent surgery, but my eyesight failed to recover. I returned home for brief visits while I was in hospital, but I had to face the glaring fact that I couldn't see what I used to see. My despair was made even worse by splitting headaches caused by the intense pressure behind my eye. I couldn't stop crying. The narimono that used to ring in my head stopped. Soon the pressure on my eye eased, and my health began to improve. While my family and friends were feeling very sorry for me, I started thinking about how, if I used a PC with a screen reader, I could resume my job. To that end, I realized I needed to learn how to walk with a white cane, and learn Braille as well. The narimono that used to ring in my head was slowly coming back. I was determined to try and make the most of my little remaining sight, and not mourn the eyesight that I'd already lost. Soon after leaving hospital in September, I began to do walking exercises. For my own safety, I was told to use a white cane. In the past, when I still had the use of one eye, I'd been too stubborn to use one. But this time, I learned how to use it properly. Then, once I'd made a map to familiarize myself with the layout of the specially dimpled paving stones and various landmarks, I managed to walk with relative ease. By November I could walk to my office by myself, and I even tried to do my old job using a notebook PC. I'd also learned to read a lot of Braille that I couldn't read when I had eyesight. It's amazing how quickly people can learn when they have the motivation. I went to the office repeatedly to make sure I could input information properly on my PC and to negotiate with the personnel department. Miraculously, I managed to return to my old job after one year of administrative leave, thanks to the kind understanding and support of my co-workers. While the narimono is still ringing clearly, work is not an easy proposition. Things are totally different from when I had better sight. The amount of time I devote to work has gone up considerably. Regardless of one's visual impairment, the company does not allow productivity to drop. I have to deal promptly with word input on my PC and data confirmation by sound--all at the same reading and writing speed as people who have sight. Work is not the only thing that frays my nerves. The long commute, which takes three hours, also takes its toll. There was a time when the commuting journey was a chance for me to get some rest. But now I have to walk blindly through crowds at rush hour and I have to be especially careful when transferring trains. I can't say that becoming blind hasn't been difficult. I've had to give up some of my old interests. There are fewer things for me to enjoy, since I can't actually see the danjiri festival any more. Having said that, I'll never give up going to and listening to the sounds of the festival. It makes me feel good to hear the sound of the danjiri floats being run through the streets. The narimono is my inspirational song. When you read this essay, you may wonder why I still work so hard. It's because I have a place to work, and it's wonderful to have a place where you can be yourself and be a part of society. I'll continue to work as long as I can. It's my dream to keep working to the beat of my inspirational song. |
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