Justyna and I both live in the same apartment building and--being new teachers--we decided to throw a housewarming party and invite a lot of our teachers and administrators. I was very excited at the opportunity to cook and decided I would make various kinds of yakitori (grilled chicken skewers) on my balcony. I couldn't find a proper BBQ so I bought a grill (just the top part) and lit some coals on fire in a wok. The idea was to put the grill over the wok and use it like a little hibachi (I had seen some Japanese guy do a similar thing on Iron Chef). I went out to my balcony, lit the coals (self-igniting), and let the initial fire burn down as I busied myself inside putting the chicken on the skewers. Ten minutes later, Justyna came up to my place (4th floor) from her's (2nd floor) and said that something was going on outside. I went out to the balcony and was stunned to see a horrified crowd of at least 30 people who had assembled outside my apartment building. The frantic way they were pointing at the sky and shouting hysterically conjured up images of the frenzied crowd in "Godzilla," horrified in the streets of Tokyo, pointing and yelling "GOJIRAAA!!!!" The only difference was that these people were yelling "Kaji!!!!!"
Kaji means many things in Japanese, but the most obvious one is "fire." I looked up at the top of my building and then over at the surrounding apartments and I didn't see any fire. Then I realized that they must be talking about my little wok and the decent amount of smoke the coals were creating. I quickly held up the wok and told the crowd not to worry. "No fire here," I said in Japanese. "Just burnt a hamburger..." I had to lie, as barbecuing is frowned upon in Japan because the smoke can bother people in the apartments above you. I live on the top floor, so I never thought this would be an issue. Nonetheless, I thought I should project the image of a helpless victim of cooking circumstance rather than that of a blatant illegal-griller.
The crowd continued to grow and, despite my physically showing them the extent of their "fire" by hold my wok aloft for them to see from four floors up, they continued to shout "Kaji!!!!!!" in almost a mindless chant. Seeing that this situation (people yelling "fire!" in a crowded metropolis) was a bad one, I doused the wok with a cup of water and ran downstairs to have a face-to-face with the frenzied fire-fearers. That proved to be equally pointless. By the time I got down to the main floor, the water I had poured on the flames had created a bellow of steam which, from far a way (and if you happened to be a frenzied old lady in my neighborhood) looked like even more smoke. So as I am trying to make eye contact with these neighbors, they are looking above me and continuing their cries: "KAJIIIIIII!" Straight out of "Godzilla." At that point I started to see the futility in using reason with these folks so I said good night and went up to my apartment to put the rest of the coals out.
About ten minutes after I extinguished all the coals is when I started to hear the sirens. I thought it must have something to do with the flooding that has been going on in our area (lots of rain lately). The sirens got louder and louder and seemed to be coming from every direction. It didn't occur to me that they might all be coming to my house until a neighbor came over and told me that, because she didn't know me and had not been formally introduced, she decided to call three different local fire stations and two police departments when she heard there was a fire on my balcony. I told her that next time she should just ring my doorbell and I was glad she could now call them back and tell them it was a false-alarm. Unfortunately, she informed me, in Japan once an emergency number is called, an "all clear" is not possible until the situation is "totally analyzed."
The first fire department arrived in full gear, masks, wielding axes, at exactly the same time as the head of the social-studies department (my boss), her husband, and the middle school principle and his wife. They were pushed aside by the second wave of firemen as I tried to explain what was happening. Sometime between the second and third waves of firemen, the police showed up. I am not sure how I was keen enough to think it through, but by that point I had gotten rid of all the evidence of a BBQ, including the coals and lighter fluid. In Japan, if the false-alarm is deemed your fault, you often have to pay for the gas money and other "I'm Sorry" money so I wanted to be sure and avoid that. I stashed the wet coals in my suitcase under my pinstriped suit. I was sticking with my hamburger story. After an hour of interrogation about the hamburger (size, type of meat, sauce...honestly they asked me) the firemen and the cops finally left.....only to be replaced by a troop of detectives. These guys had a huge spotlight, a video camera and a bag for what I assumed was evidence. Oh and the owner of my building and the realtor who rented my apartment to me showed up at this point as well.
Meanwhile, two floors down, my colleagues and friends were having a hell of a laugh at my expense I'm sure. After a fire-safety lesson from the fire chief of my neighborhood (he came last of all and checked my nose hairs to see if I had suffered from smoke-inhalation.....don't ask), a formal apology from me to my landlord, and a rearrangement of my kitchen to make it "less flammable," (1.5 hours total) I was able to join the party downstairs and have some fun. I am still waiting for my principal to call me up and ask me about the whole fiasco, as the detectives and the fire units demanded my employer's number so that they could verify my information. Needless to say I won't be barbecuing again in this country any time soon. That is... not unless I want to hear the shrill cries of the obasans (old ladies) screaming "KAJIIIIII!" again!
The first arrival...
First wave of firemen
Secret cameras are hard to operate....
The "Inspectors..."
Two floors down...
