Anna Matsushita

There was a deafening bang, followed by a deep, rumbling tremor that shook the ground beneath me.   The elderly pedestrians all dropped to the pavement in unison, as if rehearsed.   Across the street, an old man lay flat on his stomach, waving urgently in my direction. “Down!” he bellowed.   Instinct took over. I flung myself onto the pavement without a second thought.   Moments later, the wail of sirens filled the air—fire engines, ambulances, police cars, all racing past in a blur of flashing lights.   And then, just as swiftly as they had dived for cover, the prone figures around me picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and strode away as though nothing had happened.   I had arrived in Britain in the 1980's at the age of fourteen, dragged along by my parents on account of my father’s job. I hadn’t wanted to come. Life had been perfectly fine back home, thank you very much. Germany was still split into East and West, Marga...

  Even now, when I look back on it, it was a most peculiar encounter. It happened nearly 40 years ago.   To call it an "encounter" may be overstating it, as I merely caught fleeting glimpses of the man in two different places. Yet, to this day, it remains a mystery that lingers in my mind.   In the early 1990s, I travelled to the United Kingdom for a year-long university exchange programme. A friend who had helped me arrange my plane tickets and Eurail pass accompanied me on the journey.   We flew with Aeroflot Airlines. After an overnight stay in Moscow, we set off for Heathrow Airport. Upon arriving at Heathrow, we boarded the Piccadilly Line underground train and headed towards our destination—a youth hostel nestled within Holland Park, right in the heart of the city.   It was late summer, and the park itself was alive with the sounds of music festivals. Simply staying there, one could enjoy operatic performances and concerts wafting through t...

     "Whoa, you can like, speak English? No way, like a native or something!" This was a catchphrase of a former supervisor during my time at a certain company. He seemed to believe that calling someone “native” just because they could use a bit of English would somehow flatter them. It struck me as shallow.   In the professional world, whether during meetings, business exchanges, or social dinners, I’ve had numerous opportunities to use English. Over time, I’ve observed two ideals emerge:   *Achieving near-native fluency in English is, of course, desirable.   *Yet, equally critical is the ability to communicate effectively with those for whom English is not their mother tongue.   These ideals reflect a challenging paradox.   The Challenge of Non-Native Communication   Having attended an international high school, one of the most valuable lessons I gained wasn’t just English proficiency—it was the ability to comm...