Japanese Slang (16 page)

In the growing din of sirens, barking police dogs, smashing glass, and officers storming the place, the burglars are facing fiasco. The staunch Korean word they use to sum up this desperate situation is
barumburotsuta
(the wind has blown). Cornered, the criminals must now seek out what is known as
ana
(a hole)—a metaphorical hole, which will save the gang from the mortal danger. The leader of the pack might give a short emergency speech in which he urges his fellow looters to face the calamity with as much sangfroid
as they can muster. He might also quote a few well-chosen crab proverbs to prove his point:

•   
Urotae kani ana ni irazu.
A flustered crab will miss its hole.

•   
Kani wa k
ra ni nisete ana o horu.
The crab will dig a hole that fits its shell. (Each looter should use his wit and cunning to escape).

The worst scenario is classified as
daimaki,
also pronounced
taimaki
(platform rolling). The thieves are arrested in the home they are looting, holding the
sanyabukuro
or
chanshiki,
the tool bags, in one hand, and a stolen item or two in the other. The general idea is that if one is to be arrested one should have a minimum number of incriminating objects on one's person. The governing proverb advises,
He o koite, shiri o subete
(You farted, now close your ass). Although one has broken the law (by farting) one can still get rid of the evidence (and pretend nothing happened).

One way to do this is
uraita
(ceiling), to hide the loot in a safe place. The bandits can always do
donden
(topsy-turvy), return to the scene of the crime at a safer date. If the situation is
isogashii
(busy), meaning that the criminals are running down the street with the police at their heels, more desperate measures are called for. If their loot is ballasting them down, they must
enzuke
(marry it off), the desperate euphemism for ditching the plunder. Clever burglars will drop their loot piecemeal, in the hope that they will have something left when they get home. This is known as
gan, kan, ganta,
and
kanta.

If the police start gaining on the fleeing burglars, the burglars' favorite term is the vivacious Chinese expression
shanrai shunrai
(from
shang lai,
“it's coming up,” and
shui lai,
“the water is coming”). With the floodwater lapping at their feet the sweating crooks will fling their expensive burglar tools in all directions. This is known as
hake
(sweeping) and
chari furu
(swinging the clinks).

Some of the thief's most poignant words are reserved for the stirring moment of his arrest. The criminals describe themselves as
kuzureru
(collapsing),
hikkakeru
(being hooked),
nejiru
(being wrenched),
nukaru
(bungling), and
anberu
(Nagasaki slang for “being punched”). The policemen whip out the handcuffs: the
wappa
(rings),
chin
(clonks),
kai
(shells),
shaka-sama
(Lord Buddhas), or
kakushi
(that which is covered), and the bandits, so as not to lose face in front of the gaping crowd, are allowed to cover the cuffs with a jacket or a scarf.

But all is not yet lost. Bandits worth their mettle will try to perform
tachikorobi
(a standing tumble), overpowering the police in the van. Then everyone rolls out into the street and to freedom.

3
Picking Pockets in Tokyo

THE MOST colorful group of Japanese thieves is made up of little clusters of small-time professionals. These are the
suri
(those who rub up against),
hittakuri
(snatch and handlers),
tsukami
(grippers),
kakekomi
(those who dash into places), and
kakedashi
(those who dash out of places). They weave through crowds, riffling pockets and bags, wallets and briefcases, snatching money at market counters, movie theaters, in dark sex booths, and in train stations, from the masses on rush-hour trains, buses, ferry boats, and inter-island ships. The
ato oshi
(rear pushers) will jostle their victims from behind: a brisk shove, followed by a
sumimasen, shitsurei itashimashita
(oh, excuse me, I'm so sorry), and the wallet is gone. The
muneate
(chest aimers) and
nakasashi
(inside inserters) work on the Tokyo subway, sliding their hands into the breast pockets of expensive business suits. The
seoimaki
(burden relievers) lift valuables out of tourists' heavy backpacks. The
kanizukai
(crab users),
tsumi
(snippers), and
kamisori ma
(razor devils) incise their way into deep coat pockets and leather handbags. These men and women go to work with custom-made blades and tweezers which are known in back-alley
slang as
take no fue
(bamboo whistles),
kane
(metal),
bakakiri
(idiot cutters), and
takegushi
(bamboo skewers). A younger set, the
kurumaoi
(car chasers) and the
kurumaoshi
(car pushers), make a living by motorcycling past rows of cars during rush hour traffic, leaning into open windows and snatching jewelry, handbags, and briefcases.

There are even groups who work exclusively in temples. These are the
miyashi
(shrine specialists),
yamabushi
(hermits), and
kanesu
(from
kane suri,
“bell pickpockets”). Dodging the sharp eye of the watchful clergy, they collect ornate golden hairpins from women kneeling in kimono, swipe yen notes tucked tightly into festive
obi
belts, filch the money that the devout throw at the statue of the Buddha, and then rake through the holy donation boxes.

In the tough hierarchy of Japan's criminal classes these quiet, unostentatious pilferers are ranked rock bottom. Star gangsters call them fly chasers
(haeoi)
and branch rippers
(eda hagi),
a pungent expression that meant “panty thief” during the desperate post-World War II years, when suburban women were in the habit of hanging their expensive undergarments on tree branches. After a few drinks at the sake bar, and a few karaoke songs, the elitist criminals find even unkinder names for these minor-league lawbreakers:
chibo
and
bochi, chibi
and
bichi, chiko, chiki, chikiya,
and
yakichi,
all discriminatory dialect words for “dwarf.” The Lilliputian reasoning is that pick-pockets move through crowds almost as if stumbling between their victim's legs. After a few more drinks, the criminal elite call the pickpockets on trains
uke
(receivers), a malevolent word for vagina, while
thieves on ferry boats become
b
d
,
an equally malevolent word for penis.

•   
Odoroita n
! Kono t
ri zentai wa haeoi darake da ze!
Man! This whole place is just full of little jostlers!

•   
Aitsu jibun o nani-sama da to omotte yagarun da? Taka ga eda hagi da ze.
Who the fuck does he think he is? He's no more than a two-bit panty thief.

•   
Mattaku odoroita kott'a! Satsu wa imada ni ano bochi o tsukamae nanren
n da ze.
I'm just real surprised that frisker hasn'tbeencaught by the police yet.

•   
Aitsu wa tada no uke da ze! Hajiki no tsukaikata nante shitteru wake n
daro!
He's just a little train thief! He wouldn't know how to use a gun!

•   
Ferii de minato ni tsuita toki, b
d
o mita ze.

•   Just as we were arriving in the port on the ferry, I saw this prick working the crowd.

The wallet heisters and crowd jostlers, spurned by the big-time clans of the inner city, ganged together to create small leagues and corporations of their own. To accentuate their autonomy and ward off prying ears, they vigorously nurtured and expanded their private lingoes. Words were invented for every type of pocket, for the pockets' position in a garment, the material of the lining, the hand movement into the pocket, and the hand movement out of the pocket. New verbs were created to cover the most Byzantine stealing techniques.
Nakanuku
(inside pull-out), for instance, means “to carefully slip one's hand into a
victim's trouser pocket, draw out the wallet, flick it open, whip out cash and credit cards, close it, and slip it back into the victim's trouser pocket.”
Hikobarasu
covers the same procedure with a twist; the wallet is not in the trouser pocket but in the inside coat pocket. An even fiercer verb,
takudasu
(kindle and pull out), means “to drop, as if by mistake, a lit cigarette into a victim's jacket or open shirt, and then, while the victim is frantically trying to locate the burning butt, come to his aid, helping him unbutton and frisk through jacket, shirt, and undershirt, taking the opportunity to lift wallets and other valuables out of pockets and bags.”