Will Robb Photography

Tokyo is full of homeless people, they live in most of the big parks, by the rivers, under railway bridges, in small wooded areas on the outskirts of town. You see them sleeping in the streets all over town on the good days, lying in the sun in parks, sleeping on the walkways over the busy streets at nights and on the bad days they huddle inside train stations, supermarket eating areas, basically anywhere to keep dry.

Some of the attitudes towards homelessness surprises me. You see the homeless everywhere, but some people refuse to believe there are any homeless people in Japan. “You only get homeless in foreign countries” they proudly boast despite the obvious fact there are homeless everywhere in Tokyo. When pressed on the issue and shown photos like I have here, some claim it’s either people “resting” or “drunk.” Thankfully it’s not been that many people who have displayed this stupid attitude, but I also suspect those people are the ones who deny Japan did anything wrong during WWII. The wonders of a government denying blatant facts does take it’s toll. Once, a friend told me that in a university class he was teaching he had groups discussing homelessness and how to help people who find themselves living on the street. One girl who was apparently usually a very nice girl who was a big fan of cuteness and Disneyland suggested that “all homeless people should be killed” because she didn’t like looking at them. Ouch. Thankfully, another minority attitude.

I think though, many of the people in Tokyo share part of the outlook of this girl, they don’t like seeing homeless people. It makes them feel awkward, the homeless are people outwith the normal social boundaries people here in Japan are used to dealing with, they are obviously people of a lesser standing, but not people who bow to their superiors and obey their every commands, the are an independent group who answer to no-one, look after themselves and some do genuinely seem quite happy to be doing what they are doing.

The homeless here do actually do things in their own Japanese way. In other countries, homeless beg, they are pretty filthy and you can smell them before you see them. Here, they are a different kettle of fish entirely. Many have their own little dwelling place, often a small basic shack with a blue tarpaulin covering, a bed inside, basic furnishings, a small stove, books, cooking utensils, everything you’d find in a regular house. Some live by themselves, other are part of a community. Technically, homelessness is against the law, but the police and local community turn a blind eye as the homeless don’t cause any trouble and in some cases, actually benefit the local area. I read a bit more about them in Jurgen Specht’s blog when he was profiling the Japanese photographer Satoko Hashimoto who spent time living with the homeless in Ueno park in Tokyo. She found that there the homeless actually have a wuleader, he makes sure the members of his “community” keep the park clean, if any politicians, the Royal family of foreign dignitaries come to the park, the homeless are told in advance and they move out with all their belongings for a few days and come back when the coast is clear. Maybe it’s due to them “disappearing” that some politicians do genuinely believe there are no homeless, and when the politicians believe it and say it, then some regular people are going to believe too. If you can’t see it, it’s not true, but if you do inadvertently see it and someone can cover it with a flimsy excuse, then it’s not true either. In Japan, if you really want to, it’s easy to avoid reality. The whole media industry here is devoted to helping regular people avoid what’s going on round about you.

Anyway, the homeless issue here is real. I’ve spoken to a few of them, heard their stories and when they’ve allowed me, I’ve photographed them. People are people, it doesn’t matter if they are living in a penthouse or on a park bench. When I went to meet them, I took them some food and some tea, explained I was a photographer, showed them some of my stories and asked them if I could talk to them. Some said no and I gave them the food and drink anyway, others talked but didn’t want photographs taken, others were fine with talking and being photographed.

Some of them maybe did fit into stereotypes I’d heard, some were alcoholics (one guy I spoke to kept asking me every two minutes if I had any “sake” I could give him), some were a bit mad (one guy actually proposed to me, although I do look not too bad when dressed up, I don’t think my man charisma is so powerful to instantly make people want to marry me…I declined by the way), but some guys were just people who society had left behind.

Most of the men and women who had been left behind by the world eaked themselves out a living collecting cans. The get paid by the kilo, they literally have to collect thousands of cans, crush them and take them to the recyclers. They store the cans outside their tents, the go out on their bikes by day in different areas and collect the cans that are put out for recycling from normal households, they take cans from the bins next to vending machines and you can often see them riding through town with bags of cans attached to their bikes. In the summer months when people drink more, they can make between 5000 and 8000 yen a month ($50-$80 US dollars) but in the winter when consumption goes down, they only make as little as 3000 yen ($30 US dollars). With this money they buy themselves cheap food and drink. The homeless here work for their living, none of the ones I have came across beg. Some get helped out by charities, interestingly many of the homeless told me that it was Korean Christian groups who gave them food and drink. I asked if they were expected to do anything in return, such as listen to a sermon or the likes. They didn’t, a religious group helping for the sake of helping, I was impressed.

One of the people I spoke to who stuck in my mind was a man in his mid 60’s named Mr. Suzuki. He lives in Asakusa, by the Sumida river. Like many homeless, he worked for his living, he regularly washed himself (in the public “sento” baths, usually late at night when not many people were about) and his clothes. He kept a clean little tent by the river, when I approached him he was reading magazines on his mattress which he had outside in the sun. He collected books and magazines from recycling bins when he could, when he wasn’t collecting cans and had some time, he said he took great pleasure from reading whatever he could get his hands on. He seemed very intelligent and said he hadn’t had a conversation with someone who wasn’t from a Korean Christian group or was homeless for more than a year. He claimed that no regular Japanese people looked at him, he knew when they did they felt shame as he was evidence of what happened when the “machine broke down.”

He told me he was born in the island of Kyushu. He said he was educated to the level of a Junior High school graduate, which was enough in those days to allow him to get a decent job in a regular company, he met a girl, fell in love, got married and had children. He was living the same life as so many of his fellow countrymen, not a rich man by any means, but earning enough to provide for his family and living a decent life. Then, in his 40’s he started to suffer from ill health and eventually his company let him go. He managed to get odd temp jobs here and there, but this was not enough to provide fully for his family and relations at home with his wife and children started to deteriorate. He said his wife and children would tell him that they were ashamed of him, he was no good and gradually his family stopped speaking to him altogether. He too felt shame, he was embarrassed to see how his family looked at him, so he left home and started his life of homelessness, He lived in Kyushu for a few years, moving about from place to place, but he never felt at ease because he always worried someone he knew may one day see him. So, he gradually made his way on the long journey from Kyushu to Tokyo and he has now been here for 15 years and he says he felt some satisfaction at his existence. I asked if he missed his family, he said he did, but that he didn’t want to see them again as he was no good and he didn’t want to trouble them. He didn’t seem bitter when talking about them, I felt that maybe he did blame himself for the situation and understood how his family felt towards him. He didn’t once complain, he just seemed to fully accept the situation he was in. On one hand I had respect for his strength, on the other hand, I felt sorry that he was part of a system that cast him out despite his best efforts.