Chocolate Sensei

By Dominique Eugene
ALT, Agatsuma-gun, Gunma 1998-2000

“Sensei, sensei, where are you from?”
“Sensei, sensei, is that a perm?”
“Sensei, sensei, why do you smell like chocolate?”

And the barrage of questions was endless in the elementary schools. The children were enthusiastic up until their 2nd year of junior high school, before they buckled down for their high school admission tests. Some were eager to try out their limited language skills, ask for an autograph – and elevate foreigners to Stardom. Their innocence was refreshing as they struggled with etiquette that was not yet fully ingrained. The fearfulness of the pre-school and kindergarten children, the innocence and excitement of the elementary school children, the boldness of the junior high girls, and the nervousness of the boys all added to my appreciation for teaching in Japan.
I was the first non-Caucasian, non-Asian, non-Latino teacher to arrive in Agatsuma-gun, Gunma. That alone set me apart from my predecessors as I demystified (American) television stereotypes.

One thing I could not shake off was why did I smell like chocolate? Was it because I had a chocolate complexion? One special girl tried the scratch and sniff method of investigation. I was perplexed by this action, becoming extremely uncomfortable and thinking that I was emitting undesirable odor. When the Japanese Language Teacher explained why the girl was putting her nose to my skin, the student’s innocence made a lasting impression. I explained to her via translator that I used cocoa butter to moisturize my skin. No, I was not a chocolate cookie.

If it wasn’t my scent that drew attention, then it was my hair that was a source of curiosity for the students and adults alike. I have locks, dreadlocks as commonly known. The Japanese trendsetters wanted to know if they could have the same hairstyle. Did it come in a bottle? Was it a perm? It wasn’t a perm; it didn’t come in a bottle. But, much to my delight, in the bigger cities, there were people who achieved the style from a perm, out of a bottle. Wow! When they saw me, it was as though they felt a sense of kindred spirit. I was amused by the amount of effort being put into cultivating “ethnic” hairstyle.

Two years in Japan provided me a lifetime of smiles, friendships and a profound appreciation of similarities and differences between our cultures. Nearly ten years after I first stepped foot in Japan, my memories are as alive as the first humid day in Tokyo. Many things may not be as fresh in mind but I have many journals to help fill in the gaps. For just a moment, I was a Superstar.

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