A Bond Born from a Robbery

Gohei Nishikawa (00:02)
It was minus 17 degrees—freezing cold—in New York. I was alone at home, around 10 p.m., watching TV. I had turned off the lights, but I forgot to lock the door.

(00:13)
Then, I heard the door rattling. When I went to check, bam!—two robbers burst in. One was a well-built Black man, older than me, and the other was a tall, thin Latino-looking younger guy.

(00:27)
Normally you’d expect robbers to have weapons, right? But what they had was strange—a transparent case containing a syringe. The Black man pointed it at me. I raised my hands—“Hold up”—and I was terrified.

(00:52)
Meanwhile, the Latino man started rummaging through my apartment, grabbing my iPad, my wallet, whatever he could find. I was scared—terrified—but after a while, that fear slowly turned into curiosity.

(01:05)
You see, I originally wanted to be a teacher. I studied educational psychology and early childhood education. I started to wonder, What kind of childhood could lead someone to grow up and steal from others like this?

(01:36)
I couldn’t help myself—I wanted to ask them. So I said, “Excuse me, may I speak with you?” The Latino guy snapped, “Shut up!” in a harsh tone. I apologized and said, “I was just curious what kind of childhood you had.”

(02:00)
He froze, then said, “Do you know pain?” I asked, “What kind of pain?” He said, “Since I was four, my real mother abused me. I grew up in foster care. Eventually, my parents abandoned me, and I became homeless. Do you understand that pain?”

(02:24)
I used to teach four- and five-year-olds, so I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I said, “You must have gone through so much.” Then I told them, “There’s not much here, but take whatever you want.”

(02:33)
They really started taking everything—even my big TV set. But as I watched their backs, I felt a strange sadness. Yes, they were committing a crime—but after living through such a life, maybe this was the only way they knew how to survive.

(02:45)
I suddenly wanted to hug them. So I asked, “Can I give you a hug?” They shouted, “Shut up! Don’t come closer!”

(03:11)
Then the Black man asked, “Are you Japanese?” I said yes. He said, “I like Japanese people because your culture is kind to others.”

(03:26)
Even though I was still standing there with my hands up, hearing that made me weirdly proud. I thought, Well, if they’re complimenting Japanese culture, I should at least serve them some tea.

(03:51)
So I said, “I have some delicious green tea from Japan. Would you like to try it?” And to my surprise, they both said, “Sure.”

(03:59)
I was still shaking so much that the kettle rattled as it boiled. But I brewed the tea and brought out some rice crackers and sweets. When they smiled and said, “Thanks,” it warmed my heart.

(04:24)
We ended up talking for eight hours. During our chat, they noticed a poster of me performing at Carnegie Hall. They said, “Whoa, you played there?” I said, “Well, just in the small hall.” “Small hall? What’s that?” they asked.

(04:58)
I explained the difference between the large and small halls. They said they’d seen concerts from outside but had never been inside one. The Black man looked sad when he said he’d never been to one.

(05:08)
Then the Latino guy said, “It’s my birthday today. Play something for me.” It was already 4 a.m., but I played “Happy Birthday” for him on the piano. He started crying.

(05:18)
I asked why, and he said, “It’s the first time in my life someone’s played the piano just for me.” Then he said, “Play more,” so I ended up giving them a one-hour recital.

(05:45)
When I finished, I was exhausted, and it was still -17°C outside. I thought, I can’t just send these guys out into the freezing cold. So I said, “Why don’t you take a hot bath first?”

(06:03)
And then something miraculous happened—the two of them started fixing my old bathroom heater, which had been broken for ages! They even repaired a loose window latch, saying, “You could get robbed through this!”

(06:51)
After their bath, they gave back everything they had taken. At the door, they hugged me—this time, they were the ones who initiated it. The Black man suddenly said, “Yo!” I said, “What?” He said, “This isn’t a joke—lock your damn door next time!”

(07:18)
We made two promises: first, I wouldn’t call the police; and second, they’d try to find real jobs. They said, “We never finished school.” I told them, “That’s okay—there are lots of good jobs out there, like cleaning or maintenance. Honest work matters.”

(07:41)
I also promised, “If I ever get to perform in the main hall at Carnegie, I’ll invite you both as VIP guests.” We exchanged phone numbers before they left.

(08:03)
A year later, I got a message: “Am I still invited?” It was from “Dorobō” (“Thief”). He said, “I saw your Carnegie Hall Christmas concert on TV. Congrats. I’m still waiting for my invitation.”

(08:44)
That concert had been on December 19, 2016, when I performed solo in the main hall. NBC had aired a documentary, and apparently, he’d seen it.

(09:05)
I called the event organizer and told them everything. They said, “You should keep your promise.” So we did—we sent VIP tickets.

(09:41)
They actually came, wearing suits. Afterward, I got a long thank-you email. Six months later, they sent photos of a used car they’d bought, saying, “I’ve been working in cleaning ever since. Saved up and bought this. It’s Made in Japan.”

(10:26)
I don’t know if it was “right” or not, but that night taught me something: even when someone hurts you, if you try to understand them instead of hating them, things can turn out okay.

(10:55)
Later, one of them told me I was the first person who had ever asked about their childhood. That’s why they opened up.

(11:04)
They’d been shut out all their lives—by everyone, even by their parents. But they said they’d turned their lives around.

(11:19)
Thank you. Once again, today’s guest is pianist Gohei Nishikawa.