umbrella witch (7-19-10)

While Tokyo and other largest cities welcome each stream of new young residents, aged couples who have decided to live the rest of life at a condominium on their own might be causing a sense of insecurity to others nearby.

This morning, the exact day of this writing, a stocky woman, who appeared seventy-something and like a witch with a gray bob, and lived on the third floor of my four-storied condo building, gave me a nauseating encounter again.

The first time must have been about two weeks ago. When I went out to throw away trash in the condo’s trash room, she was unexpectedly going the same way.

Then, the words she cast at me were perhaps something like (excuse me for my bad memory as I tend to let go of inconsequential things), “What is your name?” Both her countenance with out-of-focus eyes and demeanor reflected creepiness.

Yet, this morning was just the onset of a series of events, horrific enough to mark in my life history.

Later during the day, I found a piece of cloth reposing in a corner of my small backyard. I took the cloth and left it in front of the security room of the condo, with a memo meaning that someone had dropped it. And some time later, the witch rang my doorbell and thanked me. Things seemed normal, just until she began repeating the very same kind of misconduct over some days, although cloths were varied. It was an oh-my-god sentiment which coincided with my mind being roiled, had me procrastinate and let rain drench a cloth. Subsequently, a plastic bag which was looking doing its utmost to hide the wet content might have been feeling more comfortable in the trash room than before the security room. Yet this action was hoped not to be interpreted as representing the maximum disrespect to the cloth, but as one of normal responses.

A blood-curdling event happened exactly one week after the day with the first cloth. In the morning, I woke up and opened the curtains. Then, sparrows’ peaceful chirping got disillusioned into a catastrophic state of my backyard: There must have been some kind of disaster which left bundles--two?, or three?--of umbrellas, veneers, rubber pots, ceramics, plastic bottles which were full of water, a large plastic box and other smaller everyday items throughout my backyard. A large round plastic table which had sat in the middle of the backyard sported a large hole at its center. In a state of shock, I would rather say thank you to the sun for allowing me to taste such an exclusive view.

While thinking about who should deal with these wastes, I hated to let the witch’s husband through my rooms to confirm the situation, though after some following consideration I eventually permitted him in to have him remove some key objects. (Other residents in the same condominium who had learned of the situation told me that she was sustaining dementia.) He, however, neglected a promise to reimburse me for the broken table.

I had to come up with a question: Is there anyone who likes to get involved with troubles caused by a family of just grandparents?

Although I loathed dealing with the mess, no one would substitute me; My cowardice about coming across the witch preferred an open garbage place outside the condo and night-time.

As it was impossible to move the entire load all at once, I divided it and reciprocated between my condo and a garbage place three times. Each round of walking took 15 minutes or so. (I tossed the broken table and plastic bottles into my condo’s trash room the latest.) Whether those items still stood as personal ones, I disposed of everything without the husband’s consent.

On a more recent day, I heard from a female neighbor that the witch had thrown umbrellas from the third floor to the front yard where parking spaces for bicycles were laid. To prevent actual injuries, the police were called in. However, upon receiving squarely the husband’s pledge to keep his eye on his wife around the clock, they merely promised to take action when someone had gotten injured.

Their attitude probably explained the status quo of the police in Japan, even partially. As I reflect on the behavior of policemen in public places, they show an increase in their number to catch cyclists and check their bicycles’ registrations during a patrol, ostensibly under the title of reducing accidents during the campaign.

At the same time, there was a case that a concentration of dispatched policemen looked too much: During the world summit in Toyako, Hokkaido, two years ago, the alert level on Tokyo’s subway routes was visibly increased with hosts of policemen while vending machines’ openings were shut with tapes.

Then, I came up with another question: Is it not the police’s responsibility to relieve citizens by squashing potential damage in a communal scope, even if the size of it is assumed small? Or, “Should the police take only heavy responsibilities?”

With the population growing, Japan is seeing itself becoming older and adding forlorn families. In the trend, it may be natural for the aged demographic to show residents with dementia.

According to the latest census about the national population, people aged 65 or over make up 22.1% of the total population of about 127 million. On top of this data, according to the statistics of the Metropolitan Police Department released this year, murders and violence committed by citizens aged 60 or over were respectively 25 and 420, or 23.4% and 15.1% of all the cases in each category. Although these figures might not look outstandingly high, they might have exempted cases with the subjects suffering from dementia or lack of a sensible mind.

Whoops, cutting-edge wheelchairs and/or other technologies, leveling the floor across thresholds and/or installing handrails will not only ease their daily lives but could help harm people. Like my case, high-rise condominiums might accompany such implicit danger.

After all, in my opinion, it’s perhaps best when living threats with potential manslaughter are identified and have family members who watch their behavior responsibly. I hope that the central government discusses the issue.

(Getting out to waste garbage, I noticed the witch sitting on a bench in the front yard and staring at me. Where was her husband? Anyone, please help me.)