The first time I visited the city of Rio de Janeiro, I realized that there was something a little different there. On Monday, when I stayed longer, I confirmed what I had noticed and what I had heard from some relatives: people from Rio love Japanese.
Not the adult Carioca but the child Carioca.
I'm proof that Carioquinhas can't see a Japanese person – or one of Japanese descent, as is my case – and they immediately get excited.
When I arrived in the city – on my second time –, still in the taxi, I saw some little boys who started to smile just because they saw me there, stopped in traffic. They were on the sidewalk. I waved my hand.
Soon after, when leaving the hotel, I was approached by two little girls who spoke to me as if I didn't understand them. And as I still didn't understand what was happening – I even imagined that this was one of those very elaborate pranks –, I pretended I didn't really understand them.
Then they started trying to speak to me in English, look! But, as I found this very funny, I continued not talking, just laughing. Then they went back to Portuguese and started shouting: “HEY, BOY, ARE YOU JAPANESE OR NOT??? SPEAK UP, GO!!!”
“I'm Japanese, but I'm not deaf!!!”, I told them – with sympathy, of course. They were amazed at the fact that I knew how to speak Portuguese.
On the Copacabana promenade things continued. A boy riding a bicycle – on the other side of Avenida Atlântica! –, when he saw me drinking coconut water at a kiosk, he couldn’t contain himself and waved at me: “Hey, JAPANESE!!!
The other day, near a community in the north, some young people, thinking that I was sent from a newspaper in Japan, started sending me little hearts – cupping their hands together – so that I could photograph them.
Ah, this is the best: one late afternoon, I was walking on the sand in Barra da Tijuca and I noticed that a boy was running towards me. When he was very close to me, I heard his father shout: “Kid, leave the foreigner alone!!! What is this?!?"
As time went by, when people asked me if I was Japanese, I responded with another question; but jokingly: “Yes, I’m Japanese. And you, are you Japanese too?”
And what did most of them answer me?
“Hey, can’t you see me, uncle??? I'm normal!!!"
When I got completely used to the harassment, I started to respond, automatically, that I was Brazilian, just like them, born in Brazil. But they were melancholy: - Ah... Ah... but you don't even look Brazilian...
When my skin got the famous Rio tan, I started telling them that I was of Indian descent. But this was even worse: “Japanese-Indians!?!”
In the end I tried to disguise myself to get privacy. So I started wearing sunglasses. Day and night. But even so, I was recognized.
Anyway, dear reader, no matter how hard I tried, nothing helped. I really was a star in the city of television stars.
Of course, the kids weren't in awe of the fact that I was of Japanese descent. They were just curious because of it and, mainly, finding it very, very funny – which, let's face it, is better than if they had felt hate because of it.
Finally, it was only after I got to know Rio de Janeiro that I came to understand the large number of Japanese descendants who present children's programs on Brazilian television. Only children from Rio are already a guarantee of a good IBOPE.
And that's why... It's... Um... It's... And that's why, taking advantage of the fact that I was already there, I left my CV... at the entrance of Rede Globo. Who knows right?
© 2017 Hudson Okada
