At Japan's 'Restaurant of Mistaken Orders', people with dementia shine as staff

The Restaurant of Mistaken Orders is shattering stereotypes by employing people with dementia. (Image: @www.japan.go.jp)

In the midst of Japan's relentless battle against its super-aging society, where the prevalence of dementia is expected to strike one in every five individuals by 2025, a social experiment is quietly redefining perceptions and fostering empathy.

This experiment, which has captured both national and international attention, goes by the moniker of the "Restaurant of Mistaken Orders." This is no ordinary eatery—it's a haven where culinary mishaps lead to heartfelt connections, and where the servers, waiters, and waitresses themselves are navigating the labyrinthine maze of cognitive impairment.

The brainchild of Shiro Oguni, the "Restaurant of Mistaken Orders" was born from a transformative encounter with a group home housing people with dementia. Shattering the conventional portrayal of dementia as a realm of "radical forgetfulness" and aimless wanderings, Oguni found these individuals to be capable of the everyday tasks often overshadowed by their condition.

"They can cook, clean, do laundry, go shopping and do other ‘normal’ things for themselves," Oguni said, the Japan government’s website states.

At lunchtime, a mismatched order brought a plate of gyoza (potstickers) to Oguni instead of the expected hamburger steak. Amidst the feasting around him, Oguni's initial confusion dissolved into acceptance.

He realized that instead of frowning upon the disparity between dishes, embracing such deviations could usher in a relaxed and delightful dining atmosphere. This notion gave birth to the philosophy underpinning the restaurant—fostering tolerance, interaction, and the joy of human connection.

The "Restaurant of Mistaken Orders" thrives on its human tapestry of both triumphs and fumbles. Among the waitstaff, one elderly lady seats guests before joining them, blurring the lines between server and patron. Another serves coffee with an unconventional straw, while another valiantly struggles with a pepper mill, uncertain if it will yield the desired outcome.

The camaraderie around the table is palpable as patrons and staff unite to rectify mishaps, their laughter echoing a symphony of togetherness.

Yet, as Oguni emphasizes, the essence of this establishment transcends culinary accuracy—it's the interactions that hold significance. The restaurant stands as a testament to the power of engagement with those grappling with dementia. Oguni's initial apprehension about potential backlash dissipates in the face of the radiant smiles worn by the dementia-afflicted staff.

In the words of the servers themselves, the experience kindles a newfound self-assuredness. "I'm still capable. This has given me confidence," they express, reshaping the dialogue around dementia from one of despair to one of positivity.

Oguni's insight underscores this shift, as he asserts, "Dementia is not what a person is, but just part of who they are. People are people."

As Japan treads the path of "Cool Japan," Oguni's vision of "Warm Japan" comes to the fore. A nation that cultivates an environment of warmth and compassion, where individuals leave with smiles etched in their hearts, embodies his aspirations.