Authors: Peter Constantine
â¢Â  Â
Aitsu wa tengaishi dakara, doa no akekata wa shiran
yo.
He's a roof specialist, so he has no idea about opening doors.
â¢Â  Â
Ano goishita-tachi wa kanojo no ie de nusumeru mono wa minna nusunjimatta y
da.
Those night thieves just emptied her house.
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Aitsu watarikomi no kuse ni ochite ashi o otta rashii ze.
Although he's a roof specialist, he fell and broke his leg.
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Teiauchintsu ni wa aitsu wa chitto futorisugi da ze. D
yatte nobore'tte y
n da yo?
He's too fat for a telephone pole specialist. How the hell is he gonna climb up there?
Older thieves and those who prefer to keep both feet firmly on the ground specialize in what ethnic Chinese gangsters call
ryahiyatan
(swatting insects on the wall). They use a pick or sledgehammer to swat their way through the wall. In plain street-Japanese this is known as
beka o barashikamaru,
“disposing of the wall in order to crawl in”
(beka
is an inversion of
kabe,
“wall”). In some circles, wall breaking is also known as
beka naseru
(doing the wall),
beka tsukeru
(fixing the wall), and
mado ga mieru
(“the window is
visible,” because a hole has just been blasted into the wall). The racket of the hammering triggered the expression
mimibarashi
(tearing off the ears). Some gangsters maintain that the burglar's ears are being torn off, others that it is the mansion's, in that the building's main structure is its head, the windows its eyes, and the smashed walls its ears.
In the wild sixties and seventies wall breaking came to be called, dramatically,
harakiri.
The image was that of modern wall breakers plunging their drills and chainsaws into the soft belly of a home, much as elegant classical heroes and heroines turned noble daggers on themselves. The generation of the eighties, a more internationalized set of thieves, upgraded the
harakiri
idea with a twist of English. The most fashionable name for wall breaker, they decided, was to be
beriishi
(belly master).
If doors, locks, windows, and roof tiles prove too formidable for a pack of thieves, they solemnly declare the case to be
yawai,
ornery (from
yabai,
“dangerous”), and turn on their heels and march out of the garden. In a more unfortunate scenario, in which a light suddenly goes on in response to the sound of walls being pulverized or glass being shattered, the robbers will gasp the classical jargon term
wakatono
(young lord, i.e. “drat, someone is in after all”) and make a dash for the gate.
When the robbers are in the mansion the job officially begins. The period stretching from the criminals' arrival to their loot-laden departure is called
yama
(mountain). This delicate metaphor suggests that the thieves, like pilgrims climbing mountains to reach blessed shrines, have to first drudge their way up the steep slope of breaking and entering before
they can snatch the spoils from the peak. A younger synonym for the high-charged stealing period, used by trendy burglar novices in Tokyo and Osaka, is
ingu.
This strange term that leaves older criminals baffled, is none other than the English gerundive suffix “ing.”
“We lifted it from English words like
d
ingu
(doing),
suchiiruingu
(stealing),
robbingu
(robbing),” the youngsters explain.
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Yama no saich
. ni mono oto o taterun ja n
zo!
Don't make a sound while we're on the job!
â¢Â  Â
Oi yab
, isoge yo! Yama ni sanjippun ij
kakeru mon ja n
ze!
Shit, man, move it! We shouldn't be on the job more than thirty minutes!
â¢Â  Â
Shh! Ingu no saich
. ni shaberun ja n
!
Shh! Don't talk on the job!