Staying in Kamagasaki : The Slum of Osaka
Now called Airin-chiku, Kamagasaki is home to 25,000 day-labourers, a large percentage which are homeless. I decided to stay here a night to experience what life is like for the less fortunate in a developed country with a large economy.
Since the economic bubble burst in Japan, starting from the 1960s, Kamagasaki has been the main destination for workers from all over japan to find work as laborers. Many people from the countryside often came here in search for a dream. The Airin Labour and Welfare Centre is where most of the hopefuls gather to try to find a job. The drab, ominous looking concrete building stands out. Many older men sit and wait with all their worldly goods in front of the building in hopes of finding a source of income. They wake each morning in the hope of getting a day’s work on Osaka’s construction sites. Regardless of the weather, people line up in front of the building everyday, patiently hoping the day will be a good one, and they’ll get some work. But at the same time, it’s a place filled with anything but hope. Just desperation and extreme poverty.
I booked a hotel that seemed too good to be true. I paid 1000 yen for my own private room; less than what I had paid for lunch at a ramen stall.
Not surprisingly, the hotel, also known as a doya, was a small, extremely suspicious looking, old building that was poorly lit. As soon as I entered, the smoke from the old men lounging on the sofas in the first floor hit me. A few seconds later, I could feel my eyes start to burn. I rang the bell to call the receptionist who was watching tv in the other room.
A middle aged man took my 1000 yen without even asking for my passport, and pointed at the elevator with the room key. The elevator, which I presume was built in the 1960s, creaked and squealed its way to the fourth floor.
I exited the elevator into a dark hallway that had a carpet that had a suspicious amount of dark stains in it. Like a sign of bad luck, there was a sign that depicted a man smoking and the room catching fire. I couldn’t read the Japanese underneath, but I got the message loud and clear. This made me quite nervous about the men on the first floor who were smoking like it was going out of style.
When I opened the door to my room, I was pleasantly surprised. The room was the size of a goshitel, a small room for rent in Korea popular with college students. I was provided with a tv, a fan, and plenty of ashtrays.
Although not the cheapest vending machine in Japan, which I went to just to say I have been, the vending machines in this impoverished area of Osaka have their own cheap beverages too! All of the cheap beverages are made by Sangaria, a local company in Osaka. The average price of Kamagasaki’s vending machines ranges from 50 to 70 yen/can, whereas the average Japan-wide price is 120 yen. I enjoyed a few cans of cold bottles of matcha tea and flavored water while walking around the neighborhood.
The area around the doya were full of men dressed from the clearance rack at a clothing warehouse. Many were dressed shabbily in tracksuits and old t shirts. They sat on the streets, often with their possessions, talking with each other while smoking. Some were on the street corners, trying to sell whatever they had salvaged. This ranged from packets of ramen to old electronic parts they had found in the garbage.
Wandering around the streets of Kamagasaki was different than the bustling streets of Osaka or Tokyo. There were no tourists. There were no women. There were no children. Like a scene reminiscent of one of those youth dystopian novels, men gathered around a fire and drank beer while grilling cheap cuts of meat on the side of the road. When fights eventually broke out among the men, a sea of police officers descended upon them to settle the situation. In a place known for police brutality and ensuing riots, the atmosphere was electric.
Despite the obvious poverty and run down nature, there is a sense of camaraderie in the neighborhood as the homeless talked to each other, laughed at each others jokes, and enjoyed the small joys in life. Some of the men on the streets even offered to buy me beer out of their meager paychecks after toiling in the merciless Japanese summer heat.
I lay on the wooden floor and tried to sleep. Through the thin walls I could hear my neighbor breathing in the next room. I lay there silently, wondering how life was like for a guy who couldn’t even afford a room like this, sleeping out in the streets, with an uncertain future. This made me more thankful about the life I live and how fortunate I am to have had such a great childhood.
