When Under the Influence of Depression, Don't Attempt to Fly

A sad story.

On Monday I went to the city of Kusatsu to check out a green Honda Super Cub 50 that I am trying to purchase. When I was on my way back home I waited at Minami Kusatsu station for about 40 minutes.

Why?

A freight train came through.

So?

It went through someone.

Japan has one of the world’s highest suicide rates. In Japan, suicide is the leading cause of death for males aged 20-44 and women aged 15-34. For some, jumping in front of a fast moving train is the easiest, considering train stations can be found every ten or so kilometers. Oddly the rail company charges the family members a fee for causing traffic disruption if it is found that the cause was suicide.

Monday, was it suicide? I don’t know. All I know is my train pulled into the station for a scheduled 30 second stop, the freight train was passing through on the adjacent platform and it sounded its shrill whistle and slammed on its emergency breaks leaving the residual smell of burning rubber in an electrical fire.

Before anything was announced, I already knew just by the expressions of those on the platform that probably witnessed it. Our train, although on another track, didn’t leave until police came and the body was removed. All I saw was some blood and a blue tarp concealing the victim being carried away by police.

I don’t know what to think about it, just a feeling of sadness. Did someone throw themselves in front of the train? What was so painful in their life that they thought an oncoming train would be more peaceful? Was it an accident? Was someone drunk? Did someone trip?

I read in the paper today that a drunken man from Hino City (Not my town, a city near Tokyo) knocked another person in front of a train near Shinjuku, Tokyo. The event at Minami Kusatsu didn’t even make the paper since it’s not news to most Japanese. Was it a man, a woman, a child? I would be sad for the person, if the person was injured or killed by accident. I would be sad for the loved ones if it was suicide.

The faces of the people around me. On the platform. In the train. Shock in the eyes of the people standing on the platform. Grandmothers holding back tears. Irritated salary men. Oblivious children. And the man across from me with a small unsettling smile. The nearly perfect white circle in the sky expressionless to what it has seen many times in its lifetime.