I guess you just don't eat it. And then chuck it into the lake
Picture this. It's a Tuesday morning in January. It's cold outside, and I'm huddling under the aircon with my scarf piled around my neck, cursing every teacher and student who dares open the staffroom door letting the freezing air in. Except on this day, I'm only half-heartedly cursing those who dare open the door to my warm nest. My mind is occupied with something else. Today is kujira school lunch day.
I've known about this day for over a week now. Friday was New Zealand school lunch day; corn pilaf, crumbed fish, a broccoli salad (consisting of mostly cabbage and carrot?) and kumara soup. Not exactly what I would say is truly New Zealand food, but the kumara soup was close enough for me. But neatly tucked away a few pages after the explanation of the New Zealand school lunch, in the 'special school lunch week' newsletter, was a diagram of Tuesday's lunch; the kujira school lunch. And underneath said diagram, was a diagram of a whale.
You are correct. Kujira is whale in Japanese.
Today's school lunch will have whale meat as the main protein portion. And my thoughts are occupied with the decision of whether or not to eat said whale which will inevitably be served to me in the next few hours.
You must be reading that paragraph in confusion. Anyone back in New Zealand knows I was a vegetarian, and yes, I am against whaling. But my dilemma was this; the whale was dead. It was going to be served to me prepared, ready to eat. Part of a beautiful, intelligent beast that had unfortunately given its life to then be given to me as sustenance. Was I to reject this gesture, to throw away this sacrifice into the bin to end up at some landfill where it would rot, giving sustenance to nothing and to contribute to the toxic mess that someday would be buried and never be able to be used as fertile ground again?
I'm also not in New Zealand any more. These are the social norms of where I am. To them, I may not be eating the whale because of I disapprove of something they perceive to be a part of their culture, rejecting this Japanese food because of the narrative around it. What will their thoughts of me be if I don't eat the whale? I eat the natto when it is served to me, despite the narrative of it being unappetising. But natto is different, I actually kind of like it now (and strangely, have cravings for it? Don't judge me). And as a side note, why is natto not more popular in the west? It has everything going for it that a western health nut would love; it's vegan, fermented, high in protein. It is also objectively not... delicious, but people drink wheat grass shots and eat kale because health.
I rush to my next class, my mind clouded with thoughts of the ethics of the impending lunch decision. Could I live with myself if I consciously ate whale? I am a New Zealander, I come from a country that is one of the most vocal on the international stage against whaling. This whale could come from the southern sea, an area close to New Zealand where whales are protected, and both Australia and New Zealand have in the past vocally objected and taken legal action against Japan for whaling in this region. The whale that is served to me could have cruised the shores of my beautiful country at one point in its brief majestic life. This whale could be a Kiwi.
I read out the word list to the first years, wandering through the rows, trying not to knock the students books with my hips. Do I object to eating the whale, because of what it represents as a physical manifestation of Japan's deliberate ignorance of the harms of whaling? Do I eat the whale to honour its life and as an acceptance of Japanese cultural food norms? I'm riling myself up. What I've been taught my whole life, the want to respect the life of this whale, and my attempted anthropological 'acceptance' of difference in food cultures are battling it out in my head.
I slump down at my desk. Fourth period is over. My brain is foggy from hunger, and all these thoughts continue to whir in the background. I drink the dregs of my coffee from my thermos and I have a thought. I could bury the whale. I can take the whale, not eat it, put it in my thermos, and then take it home with me to bury. This way, I am not perceived to be rejecting the whale by not asking to not be served it, I don't have to eat it, and then can honour its life where it gives its sustenance back to the earth.
I go to the lunch room and take my tray, scurrying back to my desk where I take the cling film covering the whale and wrap it up quickly, pushing the little bundle into my thermos without any of the staff seeing me. I barely look at it. It's dark in colour, sticky from sauce. I feel a pang of guilt and sadness about the reality that this is as I place my thermos with its new cargo into my bag.
But my story is not over. Lunch finishes and one of the Japanese teachers of English comes to my desk to walk together to our next class. She asks me 'did you eat the whale? I know you were thinking about what to do about it for a while.'
I had regaled my concerns to this teacher a few days prior, skirting around my true deep thoughts and portraying my dilemma as 'I was taught it was bad, but maybe I should eat it...' I tell her no, I did not eat the whale. I could not bring myself in my heart to eat it.
We talk about this a bit further as we walk down the second floor corridor, and just as we reach the door of class 2-B she asks me, 'do you want to start the class talking about this?'
I fluster for a second, 'do you mean talk about why I didn't eat the whale?' I reply. She nods as she slides open the door. 'Uhh, sure', I say.
We begin the class, say good afternoon, all the usual. Then said teacher turns to the class and asks, 'so, did you eat the whale today?' followed by a translation into Japanese. There is a murmur of yesses from the class. 'Wow, you are all good students!', she exclaims, and turns to me, 'did you eat the whale Ms. Emily?'
'No, I didn't', wondering where this will go.
'Why did you not eat the whale?', she questions.
'Because in my country, we consider whales to be endangered and so we shouldn't eat them' I reply, letting some more of my truer feelings come out as opposed to my previous vague hints at it being a 'bad' thing in New Zealand.
She translates this into Japanese to the students, explaining what endangered means as 'ニュージランドで鯨は絶滅になるおそれがあると思われています' ('In New Zealand, it's thought that there's a risk of whales becoming extinct'). Exclamations of 'eeeh' and 'hontouu?' come from the class. I then hear the Japanese teacher of English explain further in Japanese something along the lines of 'oh no, it's OK; the whales we eat aren't at risk of becoming extinct'.
Which is true, to an extent. Officially, the Japanese catch mostly minke whales, which are not considered endangered at present. However, their numbers have plummeted significantly since the Japanese began its 'scientific whaling' programme. So yes, me saying all whales are endangered as my reasoning behind not eating the whale is not technically correct, but neither is the information given to the students about the whales being consumed are not at risk of becoming extinct, if current trends continue. I never thought to clarify what I meant to my Japanese teacher of English. How do you deal with these smaller details when you have completely different understandings of the 'truth' of whale numbers, and completely different cultural interpretations of what is OK to eat and what is not?
After fifth period, I return to the staff room. The questions about my lack of eating the whale continue with the staff not teaching in the last period of the day. Me repeating that in New Zealand we consider whales to be endangered, and so I was taught we should not eat them. I try to be as cordial and simple as possible, saying I understand it's Japanese culture and I have no qualms with the concept of eating whale. But there was an evasiveness about their opinions of my opinions, which strangely turned into a conversation about eating huhu grubs due to them misunderstanding that I thought that eating whale is one of those 'weird' things I couldn't bring myself to do, like eating crickets or something (which I have actually done...)
My story ends with me walking to the lake after school. By this point I had decided that a burial at sea, or as close as I could get to one, would be most appropriate; therefore, Lake Biwa. I arrive at the choppy waters, winter winds chilly against my face. I rummage through my bag, producing my lavender thermos, filled with the body about to be buried. I unscrew the lid, cranking it with force due to the vacuum that was created by the shrinking of the air inside. However, under my extreme strength (sarcasm), the lid slips out of my grasp, and I watch it as it bounces down the side of the lakes retaining wall, into the water below. I stare at its light purple form bobbing away from me and I sigh, loudly. I can't believe I just lost the lid to my thermos into the lake because I'm 'burying' some fragments of whale that were served to me at lunch today. I am frustrated and angry, and the whole concept of having a solemn burial is disrupted by feeling extremely annoyed that I lost the lid to an expensive thermos. And now I have to buy a new one. Sigh.
I shake the contents of the now lidless thermos out into my hand. The juices ooze onto my fingers. I feel a bit queasy looking at it. Its colour is almost blood-like, a poignant reminder of how this beautiful beast was murdered so brutally for its meat. I stare at these fragments in my hand, trying to push my angst at the thermos lid bobbing away in my peripheral vision down and focus on the graveness of the situation in front of me.
I hold the whale up to my face to address it. What do you say to about five pieces of whale meat that you're about to throw into a lake for burial?
'So uh, hey, whale. I guess I'm here to bury you. I'm really sorry you're dead, it's really shitty that you were killed and now you're processed meat in my hand. I am truly sorry that you were murdered, I am very against it and I really hope that you had a pleasant life before your death. Maybe you lived near New Zealand, I can vibe feeling really far away from home. But anyway, I hope your nutrients can give life to this lake, and maybe eventually the seas that you come from. Again, I am really sorry. I am sure you were a beautiful soul and you deserved better and I'm sorry us as humans couldn't give you that. Also I lost my thermos lid in doing this for you so I guess you can take that as a sacrifice? I hope we're even...'
I chuck the pieces into the water. Do I feel better? Marginally. Today has been a rollercoaster of emotions, from deciding whether or not to eat the whale, to the misinformation about the status of whale populations, to losing my thermos lid. I go home, wash my hands, throw the now useless thermos container into non-burnables, and turn on my laptop to watch Outlander on Netflix. Jamie Fraser will help me let go of the strange emotions of the day.
I have been taught since I was a small child that whaling is wrong, and have been fed the narrative of the conscious disregard for the welfare of whales by the Japanese for about as long. But on this day, my 'truth' came up against the reality of this story, and the Japanese perceptions and beliefs behind them. But is this all cultural? Is my opinion cultural? Is their opinion cultural? Was I wrong or right in not eating the whale and sharing why? Was I being disrespectful to their culture? Or was I upholding my culture? Or is it 'fact' that whaling is wrong? I have so many theoretical questions. There was the perception that I was completely entitled to not eat the whale because I don't like the taste, but the idea of whales should not be consumed because they may become extinct couldn't be comprehended by both staff and students. My truth did not fit with their truth. I was faced with this weird horror story of whale actually being eaten. The story I was taught of the 'disregard' for the 'reality' of whales being protected by the Japanese is real. But it's all couched in culture and different understandings and bases of fact. And what do you do with that then?
I guess, you just don't eat the whale. And then chuck it into the lake.
I've known about this day for over a week now. Friday was New Zealand school lunch day; corn pilaf, crumbed fish, a broccoli salad (consisting of mostly cabbage and carrot?) and kumara soup. Not exactly what I would say is truly New Zealand food, but the kumara soup was close enough for me. But neatly tucked away a few pages after the explanation of the New Zealand school lunch, in the 'special school lunch week' newsletter, was a diagram of Tuesday's lunch; the kujira school lunch. And underneath said diagram, was a diagram of a whale.
 |
| The 'Special School Lunch Week' newsletter. |
You are correct. Kujira is whale in Japanese.
Today's school lunch will have whale meat as the main protein portion. And my thoughts are occupied with the decision of whether or not to eat said whale which will inevitably be served to me in the next few hours.
You must be reading that paragraph in confusion. Anyone back in New Zealand knows I was a vegetarian, and yes, I am against whaling. But my dilemma was this; the whale was dead. It was going to be served to me prepared, ready to eat. Part of a beautiful, intelligent beast that had unfortunately given its life to then be given to me as sustenance. Was I to reject this gesture, to throw away this sacrifice into the bin to end up at some landfill where it would rot, giving sustenance to nothing and to contribute to the toxic mess that someday would be buried and never be able to be used as fertile ground again?
I'm also not in New Zealand any more. These are the social norms of where I am. To them, I may not be eating the whale because of I disapprove of something they perceive to be a part of their culture, rejecting this Japanese food because of the narrative around it. What will their thoughts of me be if I don't eat the whale? I eat the natto when it is served to me, despite the narrative of it being unappetising. But natto is different, I actually kind of like it now (and strangely, have cravings for it? Don't judge me). And as a side note, why is natto not more popular in the west? It has everything going for it that a western health nut would love; it's vegan, fermented, high in protein. It is also objectively not... delicious, but people drink wheat grass shots and eat kale because health.
I rush to my next class, my mind clouded with thoughts of the ethics of the impending lunch decision. Could I live with myself if I consciously ate whale? I am a New Zealander, I come from a country that is one of the most vocal on the international stage against whaling. This whale could come from the southern sea, an area close to New Zealand where whales are protected, and both Australia and New Zealand have in the past vocally objected and taken legal action against Japan for whaling in this region. The whale that is served to me could have cruised the shores of my beautiful country at one point in its brief majestic life. This whale could be a Kiwi.
 |
| The New Zealand school lunch explanation. They interviewed me and everything. |
I read out the word list to the first years, wandering through the rows, trying not to knock the students books with my hips. Do I object to eating the whale, because of what it represents as a physical manifestation of Japan's deliberate ignorance of the harms of whaling? Do I eat the whale to honour its life and as an acceptance of Japanese cultural food norms? I'm riling myself up. What I've been taught my whole life, the want to respect the life of this whale, and my attempted anthropological 'acceptance' of difference in food cultures are battling it out in my head.
I slump down at my desk. Fourth period is over. My brain is foggy from hunger, and all these thoughts continue to whir in the background. I drink the dregs of my coffee from my thermos and I have a thought. I could bury the whale. I can take the whale, not eat it, put it in my thermos, and then take it home with me to bury. This way, I am not perceived to be rejecting the whale by not asking to not be served it, I don't have to eat it, and then can honour its life where it gives its sustenance back to the earth.
I go to the lunch room and take my tray, scurrying back to my desk where I take the cling film covering the whale and wrap it up quickly, pushing the little bundle into my thermos without any of the staff seeing me. I barely look at it. It's dark in colour, sticky from sauce. I feel a pang of guilt and sadness about the reality that this is as I place my thermos with its new cargo into my bag.
 |
| New Zealand school lunch. I never actually took a picture of the whale school lunch. Yes, corn pilaf is rice and corn. |
But my story is not over. Lunch finishes and one of the Japanese teachers of English comes to my desk to walk together to our next class. She asks me 'did you eat the whale? I know you were thinking about what to do about it for a while.'
I had regaled my concerns to this teacher a few days prior, skirting around my true deep thoughts and portraying my dilemma as 'I was taught it was bad, but maybe I should eat it...' I tell her no, I did not eat the whale. I could not bring myself in my heart to eat it.
We talk about this a bit further as we walk down the second floor corridor, and just as we reach the door of class 2-B she asks me, 'do you want to start the class talking about this?'
I fluster for a second, 'do you mean talk about why I didn't eat the whale?' I reply. She nods as she slides open the door. 'Uhh, sure', I say.
We begin the class, say good afternoon, all the usual. Then said teacher turns to the class and asks, 'so, did you eat the whale today?' followed by a translation into Japanese. There is a murmur of yesses from the class. 'Wow, you are all good students!', she exclaims, and turns to me, 'did you eat the whale Ms. Emily?'
'No, I didn't', wondering where this will go.
'Why did you not eat the whale?', she questions.
'Because in my country, we consider whales to be endangered and so we shouldn't eat them' I reply, letting some more of my truer feelings come out as opposed to my previous vague hints at it being a 'bad' thing in New Zealand.
She translates this into Japanese to the students, explaining what endangered means as 'ニュージランドで鯨は絶滅になるおそれがあると思われています' ('In New Zealand, it's thought that there's a risk of whales becoming extinct'). Exclamations of 'eeeh' and 'hontouu?' come from the class. I then hear the Japanese teacher of English explain further in Japanese something along the lines of 'oh no, it's OK; the whales we eat aren't at risk of becoming extinct'.
 |
| The diagram of the Whale school lunch, and a lovely bonus pic of a minke whale pointing out the parts that are eaten. |
Which is true, to an extent. Officially, the Japanese catch mostly minke whales, which are not considered endangered at present. However, their numbers have plummeted significantly since the Japanese began its 'scientific whaling' programme. So yes, me saying all whales are endangered as my reasoning behind not eating the whale is not technically correct, but neither is the information given to the students about the whales being consumed are not at risk of becoming extinct, if current trends continue. I never thought to clarify what I meant to my Japanese teacher of English. How do you deal with these smaller details when you have completely different understandings of the 'truth' of whale numbers, and completely different cultural interpretations of what is OK to eat and what is not?
After fifth period, I return to the staff room. The questions about my lack of eating the whale continue with the staff not teaching in the last period of the day. Me repeating that in New Zealand we consider whales to be endangered, and so I was taught we should not eat them. I try to be as cordial and simple as possible, saying I understand it's Japanese culture and I have no qualms with the concept of eating whale. But there was an evasiveness about their opinions of my opinions, which strangely turned into a conversation about eating huhu grubs due to them misunderstanding that I thought that eating whale is one of those 'weird' things I couldn't bring myself to do, like eating crickets or something (which I have actually done...)
 |
| A Whale restaurant in Asakusa, Tokyo. It's real. |
My story ends with me walking to the lake after school. By this point I had decided that a burial at sea, or as close as I could get to one, would be most appropriate; therefore, Lake Biwa. I arrive at the choppy waters, winter winds chilly against my face. I rummage through my bag, producing my lavender thermos, filled with the body about to be buried. I unscrew the lid, cranking it with force due to the vacuum that was created by the shrinking of the air inside. However, under my extreme strength (sarcasm), the lid slips out of my grasp, and I watch it as it bounces down the side of the lakes retaining wall, into the water below. I stare at its light purple form bobbing away from me and I sigh, loudly. I can't believe I just lost the lid to my thermos into the lake because I'm 'burying' some fragments of whale that were served to me at lunch today. I am frustrated and angry, and the whole concept of having a solemn burial is disrupted by feeling extremely annoyed that I lost the lid to an expensive thermos. And now I have to buy a new one. Sigh.
I shake the contents of the now lidless thermos out into my hand. The juices ooze onto my fingers. I feel a bit queasy looking at it. Its colour is almost blood-like, a poignant reminder of how this beautiful beast was murdered so brutally for its meat. I stare at these fragments in my hand, trying to push my angst at the thermos lid bobbing away in my peripheral vision down and focus on the graveness of the situation in front of me.
I hold the whale up to my face to address it. What do you say to about five pieces of whale meat that you're about to throw into a lake for burial?
'So uh, hey, whale. I guess I'm here to bury you. I'm really sorry you're dead, it's really shitty that you were killed and now you're processed meat in my hand. I am truly sorry that you were murdered, I am very against it and I really hope that you had a pleasant life before your death. Maybe you lived near New Zealand, I can vibe feeling really far away from home. But anyway, I hope your nutrients can give life to this lake, and maybe eventually the seas that you come from. Again, I am really sorry. I am sure you were a beautiful soul and you deserved better and I'm sorry us as humans couldn't give you that. Also I lost my thermos lid in doing this for you so I guess you can take that as a sacrifice? I hope we're even...'
I chuck the pieces into the water. Do I feel better? Marginally. Today has been a rollercoaster of emotions, from deciding whether or not to eat the whale, to the misinformation about the status of whale populations, to losing my thermos lid. I go home, wash my hands, throw the now useless thermos container into non-burnables, and turn on my laptop to watch Outlander on Netflix. Jamie Fraser will help me let go of the strange emotions of the day.
 |
| Lake Biwa. This is actually from Summer. I don't really go to the Lake that often, but you get the idea. |
I have been taught since I was a small child that whaling is wrong, and have been fed the narrative of the conscious disregard for the welfare of whales by the Japanese for about as long. But on this day, my 'truth' came up against the reality of this story, and the Japanese perceptions and beliefs behind them. But is this all cultural? Is my opinion cultural? Is their opinion cultural? Was I wrong or right in not eating the whale and sharing why? Was I being disrespectful to their culture? Or was I upholding my culture? Or is it 'fact' that whaling is wrong? I have so many theoretical questions. There was the perception that I was completely entitled to not eat the whale because I don't like the taste, but the idea of whales should not be consumed because they may become extinct couldn't be comprehended by both staff and students. My truth did not fit with their truth. I was faced with this weird horror story of whale actually being eaten. The story I was taught of the 'disregard' for the 'reality' of whales being protected by the Japanese is real. But it's all couched in culture and different understandings and bases of fact. And what do you do with that then?
I guess, you just don't eat the whale. And then chuck it into the lake.
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