Tag Archives: cross-culture

Who In Their Right Mind Moves to Pahoa?

PahoaOffering

I’ve always had a rebel streak in me. Got it from my dad, a grown man who relished finding ways to break rules without technically breaking them.

Dad liked to say he didn’t “play according to Hoyle,” a reference to the famous book of rules for card games (see According to Hoyle). Clueless at the time about the Hoyle reference, I knew from context what dad meant: he liked to do things his way.

How dad navigated our expressway tollbooths speaks volumes about him, and by extension, me. He’d always have exact change in hand when pulling into what was then considered an automated tollbooth (long before the days of ipass scanner technology). He’d toss in his coins without coming to a stop, punch the accelerator, and race toward the tollbooth red light, his goal, to trip the alarm before the light turned green—ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

And on the rare occasion the green light beat dad to the punch, he was visibly disappointed, a lost chance to stick it to the man–or at least tweak him–without technically breaking any rules.

I still remember asking dad why he did it. His answer was borderline blasphemous: “I don’t have time to wait for the goddamn light to turn green—I’m a busy man!”

And with all due love and respect to my dad he was full of shit; he blew those tollbooth lights because he didn’t play according to Hoyle.

These moments are still etched in my memory forty years later. And even with all the teenage relationship issues I had with my dad at the time, every time he’d trip those annoying tollbooth bells, I remember thinking he was about the coolest guy in the world.

With that kind of role model it’s no surprise I turned out the way I did. And not so outlandish that I ended up in Pahoa, a place where folks don’t play according to Hoyle.

From Outlaws to Barefoot Hippies With iphones

BarefootHippies

Pahoa has an outlaw reputation that was well earned back in the 1970s and 80s during its pakalolo heyday. Pakalolo (literally, “crazy weed”) is still around of course, but the heydays of yore are well behind Pahoa–for reasons beyond the scope of this post.

Hoyle and his rules notwithstanding, Dad wouldn’t have liked the old outlaw version of Pahoa, nor would he have been thrilled with today’s version either; way too many hippies for his liking, and not a single tollbooth to violate.

But dad would surely have appreciated the historical significance of Pahoa Town, and grudgingly acknowledged its funky Bohemian charm.

PahoaTown

Interestingly Hawaii’s own locals are harder on Pahoa than most mainlanders. Shortly after moving here it surprised me to learn that Pahoa’s reputation extended to our neighboring islands. I still remember exchanging business cards with a client in Honolulu who, upon seeing my Pahoa address, asked with tongue in cheek, “Who in their right mind moves to Pahoa?”

I’ve even heard of folks born and raised in nearby Hilo—just 30 miles away—who have never in their lives been to Pahoa Town, not even the Puna district, because of the bad rap we get. So bad is our rap, that even Dog the Bounty Hunter’s crazy wife Beth once warned viewers that, “Puna is a place you don’t want to be after dark.”

There’s a story behind Puna’s outlaw reputation, a topic for another day. Suffice it to say that the “Wild East” days of Pahoa Town are well behind us, but the reputation lives on.

Last time I ventured into Pahoa there were no outlaws, no bounty hunters, just some barefoot hippies drinking lattes and gazing at their iphones. (But let’s not tell Dog and Beth.)

TinShackDrnks

Who in their right mind moves to Pahoa?

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If my circle of friends is any indication, people in their “right minds” actually do live in Pahoa, but they tend to stand out. The good news is, Pahoa tolerates normal people too.

For context it’s worth touching on local demographics. In addition to the native Hawaiians, Pahoa and the surrounding area is populated by locals of various ethnic and racial backgrounds, many of mixed heritage, many third and fourth generation Japanese. Being that this is their turf and all, the local folks would logically represent “the norm” in this context–which by default makes the rest of us the oddballs.

The area has also had a new influx of transplants from around the world over the past decade, mostly from the mainland. Last I checked Caucasians are still in the minority in the Puna district, and that’s fine with me, as my former life in Japan taught me to embrace being the only white guy on the block.

PunaDemographics

It’s useful to think of Puna locals as a completely different culture, richly diverse, but generally much closer to Asia than mainland U.S.A. The fact that the locals speak English can almost lull you into thinking otherwise, but deep below the familiar linguistic surface, culture gaps abound.

To an outsider–even folks from Honolulu–the Puna district seems like a strange, exotic foreign country. But most Puna locals I know, within the context of their own cultural norms, tend to be a socially conservative lot. So let’s forgive them for thinking us newbie transplants are a little strange and not quite right.

KarateHouse

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But all bets are off for the rest of us who moved here in search of Hoyle-free horizons. We colored outside the lines of our respective cultures, and were just crazy enough to move to the world’s most isolated landmass at the foot of the world’s most active volcano. I think Pahoa is a better place for it.

After living through two disasters in just the past three months, you’d think I’d be ready to pack up and run for the hills. Amazingly these disasters have had the opposite effect: after being on the receiving end of so many kindnesses–through hurricane Iselle and now this sputtering lava flow–I’ve fallen deeply in love with my community.

I’d be remiss not to mention that Pahoa has more than its share of warts: crime, poverty, alcohol and meth addiction, spousal abuse, homelessness—the same stuff we had back on the mainland. So if you’re looking for trouble in Pahoa–or anywhere in Puna for that matter–it’s easy enough to find.

But if you’re looking for good-hearted people who have your back when the power goes out or the lava hits the fan, well, they’re even easier to find, and sometimes they find you. (Learned this firsthand in the aftermath of Hurricane Iselle, when on three different occasions during a 5-day power outage, folks showed up at our front gate with free ice, two of them complete strangers.)

No matter what happens with our ongoing lava flow, no regrets moving here: so much good has come to my family, so many new friendships formed, such a rich, meaningful life we live. Did I mention the weather is awesome? No, we’re not going anywhere.

And if my dad were alive today he’d tell me what a dumbass I was to live at the foot of an erupting volcano in a house anchored to a concrete slab sitting in the path of a lava flow. If he put it that way I’d have to agree with him. But I’d remind him that I don’t play according to Hoyle either, and he’d understand–at least I’d like to think so.

Stay tuned for more ramblings on Pahoa. If you like classic rock from the 60s and 70s, check out these two jams we stumbled onto in our town’s main parking lot behind Luquin’s one lucky evening.

Akebono

We ended up hanging with a bunch of old hippies, the real deal. (Unlike dad, I’m totally chill with the hippies). Together we took a musical trip down memory lane while we lamented the passing of Pahoa, now looking like a premature eulogy with the flow front stalled. But here’s what things looked like from town back then!

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What the clips below mean to me, is that Pahoa has the magic–the mana–to make a group of strangers hold hands and feel like old friends. (And please forgive the dark image, I took this at night with an iphone; but hopefully the spirit of the moment comes through):

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2014

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Glimpses of Culture Through Childrearing

KurumiTim

Japanese discipline their children in ways a Westerner might never imagine. I’ll preface this post by saying that children in Japan are generally spoiled by American standards, at least until they hit school age. Most will then spend the next 12 years in the Japanese school system getting hammered into submission (admittedly more so in the olden days than the present).

Spoiling children to the outrageous extreme practiced in Japan is a phenomenon Japanese psychologists call “amae”: the notion that people, especially children, exist to be indulged by parents, grandparents, bosses and friends. Some believe this mindset has created a generation of helpless men and women who have had everything handed to them throughout their lives. Of course I know many exceptions to this tendency, but the phenomenon is well known and accepted in Japan. (For those interested, check out The Anatomy of Dependence by Takeo Doi.)

A former college professor once went as far as saying that Japanese society practiced “child worship.” He offered as evidence, the popularity of Japan’s annual high school baseball tournament held in the fall, called “Koshien”. During this event the whole country comes to a standstill to adore the hard-working, pure-hearted samurai warriors playing their hearts out on the sacred baseball diamond. Tears are spilled–especially for the losers–who are worshiped for their wrenchingly unfulfilled efforts.

How far will Japanese parents go to appease their children? I once watched in disbelief as a little Japanese boy (I’m guessing about 5 years old) punched his pregnant mother on a Tokyo rush-hour train because she was sitting down and he couldn’t. Amazingly the mom gave up her seat to the boy, proving that Japanese mothers can be selfless to a fault.

In contrast, in my culture, mom would’ve used the situation as an opportunity to teach me respect and good manners. And once dad found out that I had violated one of his uncompromising rules, it would’ve been a spanking for sure, likely my last infraction of that rule.

Of course my generation believes (at least in principle) that it’s cruel and unenlightened to strike or verbally abuse children. And although traditional Japanese culture would absolutely condone my father’s use of force, it has a much more powerful weapon in its arsenal than the mighty stick: in a word, ostracism. Push the offending party out of the group in Japan, and your problem is solved. Or at least swept under the rug.

Here’s a good cross-cultural example to illustrate how profoundly cultural values affect our behavior–even how we discipline our children.

A Case Study of Two Naughty Children: Tim & Kurumi

I mentioned to my Japanese wife years ago that when I got in trouble as a child, my parents would “ground” me, or “forbid me to leave home.”

Kurumi found this fascinating. “That’s really interesting,” she said thoughtfully. “Because when I was a naughty girl, my mother used to push me outside the house and lock the door. I would cry and pound on the door, begging my mom to let me in.”

Without thinking I said: “I wish I had your mother, it would’ve worked out well for me!”

What Does It Mean?

As you can see, opposite techniques are being employed in our respective cultures to achieve the same result: disciplining the child.

But if you look below the surface and focus on the essence of what’s happening, both cultures are really doing the same thing: denying the child something he or she values. That’s why it’s an unpleasant experience–indeed the whole point of punishment in the first place!

In my case, my parents were denying me the sacred values of freedom and independence, the pleasure of escaping house confinement to hang with friends far away from home.

In Kurumi’s case, her parents were denying her the all-important value in Japanese society on belonging. The punishment makes sense in light of Japan’s collective culture, where one’s identity is tethered to the group; for in Japanese society the individual is not a stand-alone entity, rather a mere “fraction of the group.” Indeed in Japan one is not whole without a group affiliation. Ostracism is a powerful way to punish those who desire to belong, and it has widespread use in the modern Japanese workplace as well.

Next up, Madogiwa Misfits and the Power of Peer Pressure.

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009

Japanese-style Customer Service: the Art of Kikubari

It’s humbling to hear what Japanese say about American customer service. On the positive side we’re “kind,” “friendly,” “charming” and “warm.” But we can just as easily be mean, scary, obnoxious and aloof.

America is indeed a culture of extremes: when we’re good we’re really good. But when we’re bad we’re really bad. Most Japanese would rank average American customer service well below the average in Japan. Problem is, Japanese customers are notorious for not complaining when they feel mistreated–while they quietly stew in their own juice.

Here’s what they tell their friends and family when we’re not around: Americans don’t always keep their promises; don’t apologize for breaking promises; make excuses; don’t know how to properly speak to customers; and are not considerate.

What level of customer service do Japanese get in Japan? A personal experience at a Japanese hotel tells the story: on the way to meet the chairman of a company that employed me at the time, I walked for twenty minutes in the sticky heat of Japan’s late-July summer. I entered the lobby of the Otsuki Hotel drenched in sweat. The chairman had not yet arrived so I found a sitting area to wait.

Meanwhile an observant clerk behind the check-in counter noticed my discomfort, and took it upon herself to bring me a glass of iced barley tea and a chilled oshibori towel. She anticipated my needs and fulfilled them proactively, the ultimate in Japanese-style customer service. The Japanese call this “kikubari” (pronounced “key-koo-BAH-ree”).

The value of the employee’s thoughtful gesture was immeasurable. The cost to create this wonderful experience was a cup of tea.

What similar high-impact, low-cost measures bring instant value? Review the complaints listed above then educate your employees to do the opposite. Specifically, commit your organization to:

  • Keeping promises
  • Apologizing when customers are inconvenienced
  • Taking action to solve problems rather than making excuses
  • Learning to greet customers in a respectful way
  • Being observant and paying attention to detail
  • Practicing kikubari, the art of anticipation, with customers and with each other

All this requires training, of course. But it cuts much deeper than training. Business leaders in Western companies that serve the Japanese market have to first acknowledge the need to upgrade their product. Once leaders get their heads wrapped around Japanese expectations, most will understand the need to improve. Without leadership’s understanding and support, there’s no point in educating the troops, because nothing will stick.

Education is essential for opening minds to the creative possibilities and guiding employees on innovative ways to connect with Japanese customers. Education is also a low-cost-high-impact way to get quick results. It sets favorable conditions for leveraging the mind-power of  your people. The improvement ideas that come from the hearts and minds of employees always work best: if it’s their idea they’ll do it; if it’s someone else’s idea they won’t.

The foundation of any improvement strategy is staying true to your organization’s values and culture. Japanese guests seek authenticity; the last thing they want is their foreign hosts acting like Japanese! You have to be who you are. Kikubari is a natural and beautiful way to put Hawaii’s customer-service values into practice.

In the end human relationships trump all. They have the power to overcome rising costs, aging facilities, and the inevitable cross-cultural faux pas. Human bonds cemented by acts of kindness add precious value to the customer experience that money can’t buy. Kikubari is a simple but powerful way to reach out and build relationships with people from any culture. Whether or not you serve the Japanese market, making kikubari part of your customer service culture will give you a powerful edge over competitors that are reacting rather than anticipating.

For another take on kikubari check out The Dark Side of Japanese Customer Service

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2011