Compassion on an Osaka Train Platform

After weeks of traveling through Japan, the time had come for me to bid farewell to this gorgeous country… or, at least, that was what I was meant to be doing. But instead, I was stuck on an Osaka train platform hearing indiscernible announcements being made while intricate symbols scrolled across the electronic bulletin boards.

My train was now around 20 minutes late. Having spent the last four years living in London, this was nothing new. But this is Japan. Things run on time in Japan.

Yup, something was definitely wrong.

A Japanese man approached me. “Do you know what is going on?” he calmly asked, in stark contrast to the chaos around us. Clearly the panicked expression on my face was a clear indication that no, I did know what was going on.

“There has been an accident, all the trains to the airport are cancelled”. “Do you know how I can get to the airport quickly?” I pleaded. “Let me see what I can do” the man said and took out his mobile phone. As he spoke on the other end, he motioned for me to follow him to the ticket counter where he negotiated a full refund for my ticket. Handing me the cash he said, “There is a bus station across the street, I’ll take you there”.

Following him like a lost child, I asked, “Why are you helping me so much?”. Turns out a few months earlier, he was in New York City on a business trip when his train was cancelled, leaving him stranded and confused. I asked if anyone helped him. He looked at me with a shy smile and said, “Unfortunately not. So I understand what you’re feeling. That is why I must help you”. As we approached the waiting bus, he informed me that his secretary, with whom he had been on the phone, had already purchased my bus ticket to the airport online. Before we parted ways, in typical Japanese style, he handed me his business card and asked that we keep in touch. His name was Kazumi Ohmasa.

Three years later, Japan would be ravaged by an earthquake and tsunami, killing 25,000 people. Kazumi’s kindness had firmly placed Japan in a special place in my heart, and I knew I had to do something to help. Back in the UK, I, along with some friends, organised origami workshops to help raise money for the Red Cross. We eventually raised £3000, one paper crane at a time.

Although I have not yet had the opportunity to return to Japan, I still keep in touch with my good friend, Kazumi Ohmasa, whose compassion restored my faith in humanity that summer afternoon in Osaka.