How I Learned to Hate (part 2)

I harbored that hate for some twenty years after we buried Fish. Unlike love which grows with time, hate eats away at a person’s heart. Walking the streets of Niigata, Japan, a small city about a 90 minute flight from Far East Russia I came upon three Ruskies. They were Russian sailors on leave from their timber hauling freighter. It was obvious to us they were Russians because they always walked in threes. Later, I learned it was because one person might overpower another and try to escape. But, it was more unlikely that one could over power two. Defection was a common word in the news in those days, before the fall of the Soviet Empire. I even learned how to say it in Japanese – bomei. There were other evidences that these men I saw walking the streets of Niigata were Russian. They walked with their hands in their pockets and they NEVER entered a store. The reason was simple – they were reminding themselves they had no money.  They always stayed outside.

     I knew only one word in Russian and I didn’t even know how to say that correctly. I can’t help but want to communicate with peoples of other countries. It is because I have a faith inside me that burns to get out and be shared. Despite my hatred I found that I desperately wanted to communicate with these men in the streets of Niigata.

    A former Japanese student of mine and later a friend, Suzuki-san, was an employee of the Soviet owned Aeroflot Airlines. He spoke French, English and Russian. He offered to teach me Russian and I jumped at the opportunity. On no particular day in the midst of a lesson he asked me, “Would you like to visit the Soviet Union?” 

    “What?” I responded not believing he was asking me this.

    Two decades was a long time to harbor hate and animosity toward a country. However, I had done an admirable job, if you can call hating something or someone worthy of praise when done well. Suzuki-san presented me the opportunity to meet face to face with the people I despised so deeply.

    “I can arrange for you to visit the country if you like,” Suzuki said matter of factly.

    I couldn’t believe my own ears when I told him, “Yes. Sure, I’d love to visit.” What was I thinking? Memories came flooding in. Weren’t the Soviets the ones responsible for killing Fish?