A man in a blue kimono checks the soup at the buffet line while I sit cautiously in my booth eating a chicken and tomato salad covered in fatty dressing. A few other patrons to the Ajimu Joyfull chat quietly nearby, but for the most part the family style restaurant is empty on this random Tuesday night. As the only reliable establishment in my inaka town, Joyfull is impressive for two reasons: having a full Chinese buffet and being the employer of a vigilant Jehovah’s Witness.

Her name is Miki and I first met her in August while standing shirtless at my front door (me, not her). I had dashed from shower to door in hopes for seeing a friend or the postman with a package, but instead I surprised two young Japanese women wearing lacy skirts and carrying outfit-coordinated umbrellas. They had come to deliver a message of peace and hope, but my gaijin status and lack of fluent Japanese momentarily stopped them in their crusading tracks. A few awkward greetings were exchanged and then Miki produced from her stylish bag a pamphlet with the same three paragraphs written in twelve different languages on twelve separate pages. I glanced over the literature, curious as to why these two angles had appeared at my door, and then suddenly froze at the words “Jehovah’s Witnesses” written in bold at the top of the English page.

They had found me. Ten thousand miles away from my American home where Jehovah’s Witnesses compete with bicycling Mormons to save souls, I had opened my door and encountered the Japanese chapter of the Doom’s Day awaiting religious activists. I felt surprise. I live in Ajimu, a small town of less than 8,000 people in a prefecture described as the “Iowa of Japan”. More than that I live in an almost empty apartment building next to a school and surrounded by rice fields on all other sides. If I were on the run from the law, Columbian drug lords, or robot assassins, I couldn’t have picked a more ideal spot to hide than my little town. But despite all this, Miki and her pamphlet had come knocking on my door and were staring at me in the bright morning sunlight.

Due to the language barrier, Miki and her companion only stayed a few minutes and then left after telling me to read my Bible everyday. They were both extremely nice and at the time I wasn’t sure if they would be back or not. Part of me hoped I would see them again since they were the only folks in town to overcome their shyness and speak to me. It was this hope that echoed in my ears as I ate my chicken and tomato salad alone in the Joyfull booth. A salad delivered by Miki herself!

I had scanned the picture-covered menu and decided on a light meal. Ping-pong went the bell and over walked the server. As she approached, I felt the warmth of recognition begin sweeping my mind. I had met this person before…but where? School? Town festival? Eikaiwa? When she reached my table’s edge her smile exploded into friendly gasps and she motioned to her face to say “remember me?!” One heartbeat, two heartbeats…YES, I remember! From my doorstep!

Miki was overjoyed to see me in her restaurant and used what English she knew to make me feel welcomed. As I paid my bill, I noticed a fierce look in her eyes…fire and purpose blazed there as if to her, God had orchestrated this meal to put me in her path. God has brought me to her to save.

Four weeks went by and with each week came a visit from Miki and her companions. She brought an older man who could speak some English one time and then she brought two men the next week to give me peers to interact with. Each time I turned down their invitation for Bible study and each time they smiled as I closed the door. Finally, one Saturday morning, I knew I couldn’t keep wasting their time and I used my newly acquired phrase of “sumimasen chotto” when they asked me to attend church with them. The effect was devastating. Miki, who had been cheerfully bringing me English versions of the material she gave to Japanese people, frowned for the first time when I used her own language to turn down her invitation. She bowed and managed a flickering smile before saying good bye. The Jehovah’s Witnesses no longer knock at my door.

I still eat at the Ajimu Joyfull on random Tuesday nights and occasionally I see Miki carrying plates of chicken and tomato salads around to tables. While she hasn’t been my server again, she has looked at me from a distance and smiled. I always smile back and inside my head I thank her for being the first one to welcome me to my inaka town.

Written by Justin Shaddix (formerly) of Ajimu for The Tombo Times, Feb 2006.