supermarket obatarian

The Supermarket Obatarian
by Shinichi Evans

Author’s note: This marks the 10th anniversary of “The Supermarket Obatarian.” Check out the podcast.

My parents had a way about giving me unpleasant resposibilites. Shige obasan, or Aunt Shige, followed us from Japan and never bothered with getting a driver's license. My mother used to take Shige obasan around to do her shopping until I turned sixteen and started driving. When I got my car, a used 1986 Nissan 200SX, I had to start taking Shige obasan to do her errands. My mother was free to watch Mitsuo, my five year old brother.

I was about to call Sam and see if he wanted to go to Tower Records and buy some CD's when I picked up the phone in my room and quickly put it down when I heard my mother laughing and gossiping. I then picked up an Obatarian book to read while waiting for mother to get off the phone. Obatarian can be translated as "female middle aged terror." The main character has to get the best mileage for her yen. I was reading the book when I heard my mother call me from the kitchen downstairs:

"Sada!"

I put the book down and quickly tied my hair into a ponytail. "Hai, kasan! Nani?" I replied, wondering what my mother wanted. I quickly ran down the stairs.

"I need you to do something for me," my mother said as I approached the kitchen. She was stirring some curry while trying to keep an eye on Mitsuo. He was running around in circles, screaming, and waving around a ball point pen at the same time. I was annoyed with the noise he was making so I yelled, "Urusai!"

"No!" he shot back in English as he charged toward me with his pen. He then slashed my faded Levi's, leaving a red mark.

"Kasan," I asked my mother, "can I kill him?"

"Sada, no!" You shouldn't talk like that. What kind of example do you think you're showing your brother?" my mother admonished as I saw Mitsuo hide behind her.

My mother turned around to face Mitsuo and said, "Mitchan, your big brother did not like your screaming. Could you be a good boy and tell him you're sorry?"

"Gomenasai," Mitsuo apologized as he went to the living room to play quietly. When he was out of the kitchen, my mother told me, "I need you to take Shige shopping today."

It was Tuesday and Shige obasan normally did her shopping on Thursday. In these few seconds, I had to find a way to get out of this chore.

"Atama ga itai. I'll go to my room and get some rest," I said with a slight groan, trying my best to feign a headache.

"You really don't have a headache, do you?" my mother asked suspiciously. She looked at me sternly with her arms folded.

"Okay, I don't have a headache. Why can't Jin take her shopping?" I asked. Jin, Shige obasan's twenty year old son, lived half a mile away from her in Ocean Beach. He hardly did anything but surf and hang around his apartment.

"She has asked that lazy good for nothing hundreds of times. He won't do it. That's why we have you take her shopping," my mother said, triumphantly smiling.

"I'll take Shige obatarian shopping today," I said, surrendering to my mother.

"What did you say?" my mother asked. She was clearly annoyed.

"Obasan," I lied as my eyes darted to the ground and my face became warm and red.

"Uso bakari!" my mother said as she accused me of being a liar. "Who did you hear call her that?"

I thought of my father and the times he made fun of Shige obasan by calling her an obatarian. He's the one that gave me the comic books. It was a private joke until now. I tried to stall for time as I tried to think of something to tell her. "Ano...

"I'm waiting," my mother said as her patience wore thin.

"Tosan," I replied, guiltily revealing it was my father.

Mitsuo ran into the kitchen and started screaming again. He then bugged my mother about a toy he could not find. I ran to the door, slipped on my Birkenstocks, and I was on my way to pick up my aunt.

My aunt began to give me orders the minute she got into my car:

"Turn this way! You're driving too close to the curb! You'll get us both killed!"

Once we were on the freeway, she ordered, "Could you go faster? I don't have all day and there are no tollbooths around!"

I looked briefly at my speedometer. I told her, "We're going pretty fast at 75 miles per hour."

"Why don't you let me drive?"

While I was driving, two scenarios played in my mind. In the first scenario, Shige obasan got into the driver's seat and drove off before I could get in. In the second scenario, I got into the passenger seat, only to endure Shige obasan's roadside terrorism. She soon rear ended a car and other cars began to pile up behind us. A policeman arrived and she blamed the whole thing on me and...

I was brought back to reality by the sound of my aunt's voice. "Well? Aren't you going to let me drive?"

"Iie. I'd like to live to be as old as tosan."

"What is that supposed to mean?" my aunt asked indignantly. "Are you saying I can't drive?"

"H-hai," I nervously answered. My hands shook as they gripped the steering wheel. " I don't want to get in trouble. Tosan and Kasan would be mad if my insurance rates went up."

My aunt folded her short arms and shot a quick breath from her wide nostrils. She murmured, "I guess you have a point."

Once we were inside Yaohan, Shige obasan saw a friend of hers eating noodles near the Takara counter. As Shige obasan moved toward her friend's table, I excused myself to go to Asahiya Bookstore. I really did not want to hear two obatarians gossip and I would be nearby when Shige obasan was ready to do her shopping. As I approached Asahiya Bookstore, I saw a woman who looked like my aunt standing by the magazine rack. Like my aunt, she had short curly hair and she wore a trendy sundress. She wore a not-so-stylish pair of walking shoes. She also had a large purse just like my aunt's. As I walked toward the comics shelf, which was near the magazine rack, I heard three quick sounds of a zipper open and shut. I then saw the obatarian walk briskly toward the main section of Yaohan.

I grabbed an Obatarian comic book and began reading. There were a few funny scenes in which Obatarian terrorizes shopkeepers with her fussy and penny-pinching ways. My reading was interrupted by a familiar voice barking at me:

"Nani yonde iru no?"

I'm reading nothing," I responded as I tried to hide the book behind my back.

"Uso" my aunt accused. "Show me what you're hiding!"

I slowly brought the book out for her to see.

My aunt looked at the cover and flipped through the pages. She fumed, "So this is how your father gets ideas to make fun of me! He's going to hear about it later!"

We did not talk to each other as we walked toward the produce. I saw Shige obasan's look alike wander around as Shige and I picked out some fruits and vegetables. She frequently looked around like a pedestrian trying to cross a busy street. While I picked out some white peaches, I saw her take her hand out of her purse and zip it shut. I saw the obatarian by the meat. She was walking along the cooler. Was it my imagination or did I see some five o'clock shadow on her face?

"Shige obasan, that woman's kind of strange," I said in a hushed cautious voice.

"Mind your own business, Sada," my aunt admonished. ""She's just doing her shopping."

I don't know. She seems to play with the zipper on her purse a lot," I said hesitantly.

"Maybe she just likes to play with her purse," my aunt suggested. We went to the other side of the store to look for some soy sauce. While we were looking for soy sauce, I saw the obatarian put a large bottle of Ozeki sake in her purse. She must have thought that no one saw her. She was a dorobo, a thief. Before I could say anything to my aunt, the dorobo quickly went around the corner of the sake shelf to another part of the store. My aunt then asked, "Could you take the cart and pick up some nori. I forgot to pick up some pickled daikon.

I saw the dorobo in the next aisle. I saw her slip a packet of curry in her purse. Pretty sloppy. She must have not anticipated someone catching her in the act. As I thought of running her over with my shopping cart, I heard an announcement over the store's PA system:

"Could the nephew of Shigeko Honda please come to the front of the store."

The dorobo took one look at me and walked off to another aisle. I wanted to yell, "Stop, thief!" The words did not come come out of my mouth. I found myself running to the front of the store.

"Sumimasen (excuse me)!" I shouted as I nearly collided with a middle-aged Caucasian man with his Japanese wife. The man gave me a look as if to say, "Crazy kid! Watch where you're going!" I then heard his wife explain to him that it must have been an emergency.

I saw Shige obasan surrounded by three managers and three plainclothes security men. They were all talking to her at the same time.

"What's going on here?" I asked as I approached them.

"We suspect your aunt of shoplifting. Our security men said that they saw her put several things in her purse," the oldest manger replied.

"Did you find anything in her purse?" I demanded.

"No, but shoplifters are quite clever with what they steal," the manager answered, looking at my aunt.

"It's not her. I saw the real thief!" I insisted.

"Honto?" the manger asked me sarcastically as if he did not believe me. One of the plainclothes grabbed me by the arm and said, "We want you and your aunt to come into the office with us."

"I'm not going anywhere! I saw the real thief!" I protested loudly in English so everyone could hear. I jerked my arm away from the plainclothes' grip. "Keep your hands off me!"

"Let's not make a scene out of this," the manger cautiously advised in Japanese. The same plain clothes tried to grab my arm again. This time, I backed way before he could get a grip.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" I insisted. I was going nowhere with the way these idiots persisted in thinking my aunt stole something and was hiding it. Meanwhile, the real dorobo was roaming around the store, free to steal more stuff. As the managers continued to accuse my aunt, I saw the real dorobo with her bloated purse. She tried to quietly walk past the cash registers to the main exit.

"There she is! She's the real dorobo!" I shouted, pointing to my aunt's look alike. The dorobo obviously heard me for her pace quickened as she approached the doors.

"Oh no, she's not getting away with this!" my aunt declared as she shove her way past the plainclothes and the managers who surrounded her. She ran after the dorobo. As soon as my aunt caught up with her look alike, she tackled her. Shige obasan then twisted the dorobo's arm behind her back. The dorobo screamed for mercy but my aunt would not yield. Shige obasan's free hand gripped the dorobo's hair and began to pull. After a few seconds, my aunt was holding a wig in her hand. The dorobo was a man! I thought something was wrong when I saw five o'clock shadow in on his face. My aunt surrendered the dorobo and the stuffed purse to the plainclothes as they approached her. One of the plainclothes opened up the dorobo's purse and took out a bottle of Ozeki sake, a package of curry stock, milk candy, soap, three bottles of Calpico milk syrup, and a couple of bentos.

"Get me away from this woman! She's crazy!" the dorobo shouted as he was led away to the manger's office.

"Ano... We're really sorry about what happened. Please accept our most humble apologies," the oldest manager said to me and Shige obasan when the dorobo was out of sight. I took a look at my aunt. She was furious. I could see it in her eyes. She was not placated by the conciliatory gesture from a man who accused her of being a dorobo moments ago.

"That's not good enough," Shige obasan said, trying to keep her anger under control. "I could sue you for what just happened but I'll make a deal with you. Give me about two thousand dollars for compensation and I will forget this whole thing happened."

"You think I'm going to do that? You are an ahondara!" the oldest manager sharply replied. He should have not called her a fool. Shige obasan and I looked at each other. I'm sure she was thinking the same thing I was thinking: Look who's talking.

"How dare you call me that! I want two thousand dollars or else I will sue, make sure you get fired, and ask for more!"

"I can write a gift certificate," the manager halfheartedly offered.

"I don't want that! I want cash!" my aunt demanded

"Okay, I'll get it." The manager ran into his office to fetch the money. After a few seconds, he came out of the office meticulously counting the bills in his hand. When he approached my aunt, he quickly shoved the money in her hands as if to get rid of her.

Shige obasan grinned as she counted the hundred dollar bills. When she was done counting, she put the bills in her right hand and spread it into a fan. She raised the fan and began to dance energetically in front of the manger. A few shoppers stopped what they were doing to watch. As more people crowded around us, Shige obasan danced in circles around the manger. She ended the dance by lightly brushing the manager's nose with her fan and she made a sharp turn to get away from him.

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