A personal essay by Caroline Raines
On the evening of the seventeenth of December, 2014, I receive a life-changing assignment. “Japan, Fukuoka,” my lips mutter and I am stunned. I am going to Japan.For eighteen months I will be a volunteer for my church in that foreign land where I've heard the sun rises. I stare blankly, trying to take it all in, and instantly, gongs ring in my ears. The only thing I know about the country is what I’ve learned through pop culture and media. Japan is where they wear red dresses and pull their hair back in buns and let their tiny facial hairs grow on the sides of their lips until they are long enough to drip into their sushi sauce. It’s the place where they say, “konnichiwa” for hello, or maybe it’s “nihao,” I’m not quite sure. Over and over those gongs sound in my head reminding me of how much I do not know about Japan. The sun is setting now, leaving traces of pink and orange in the sky.
