Читать книгу Hawaii End of the Rainbow - Kazuo Miyamoto - Страница 11

THE IMMIGRATION STATION WAS A TWO story frame building. There were several large halls containing rows of three-tiered steel beds. There were no mattresses. Each immigrant had to use his own blanket to soften the impact of the steel springs that sustained his recumbent body. They were forced to stay indoors except for thirty minutes after the noonday meal. Under these most trying circumstances, the women had to wait until their husbands arrived from the plantations to claim them. This picture bride system was similar in many respects to the "Tobacco brides" shipped from England to the Jamestown colony of Virginia in the early colonial days. In this instance, the women were shipped en masse to Virginia and the bachelor settlers took their pick, paying for their wives in tobacco. In a young settlement, the male element predominates. Soon, when toil is rewarded by security, the desire for a family arises. To resort to the most convenient and economical way to get the best possible girl under the circumstances is natural. Such an unusual procedure of human union sprang from necessity, and the results were not as bad as one might fear.

At one o'clock that afternoon, in a separate room, each woman was called in and introduced to her husband-to-be in the presence of the hotel man and immigration officials. Seikichi awaited his turn with a palpitating heart. With even greater curiosity and inward trepidation mixed with bashfulness, Haru, the bride, was undergoing the ordeal with unprecedented fortitude, for there was no mother or friend to lean on on this occasion. She did not have the desire to pace the floor. She merely sat still and waited the inevitable. The minute hands of the big wall clock moved forward agonizingly slow, little heeding her fear and agony. Her mouth parched easily; the salivary glands ceased functioning. It was a wonder that her heart did not stop beating also. The suspense was great.

Finally a matter-of-fact voice announced, "Arata Haru," and she came to herself. With great effort she said hai. Even after several attempts, it was barely audible. She stepped forward and was led to the office. With downcast eyes she entered the room, but she was aware of the presence of her man. By instinct, she knew which one he was as she fearfully raised her eyes to the men in the room.

"This is your husband, Arata Seikichi. Is the identification sufficient? If you are not satisfied, it is your privilege to decline going with him. You may both produce your photographs for comparison," the immigration official said in his routine manner.

"It is not necessary," she said in a voice that she herself was surprised to hear. For to her the striking resemblance he bore to his elder brother was evidence in itself.

"And how is it with you, Mr. Arata?" asked Mr. Azumi.

"It is all right with me," answered Seikichi automatically, marvelling at the clearcut answer the brave girl had made. It made him feel proud of her already, and at the same time he was aware of feeling flattered. She could not have said it so decisively if she did not like him. The first impression is said to be vital in matters of love. It was a good start; an auspicious omen regarding the marital voyage he was embarking upon, with Haru as copilot.

"In that case will you both step forward and sign this register? It will be kept here with the government. It concerns your marriage and entry of Mrs. Arata to the Hawaiian kingdom. You may sign in Japanese."

After signatures were affixed, the three left the office and proceeded to another room for customs inspection. Suitcases and willow trunks were in separate piles and Seikichi helped untie the ropes. As the contents were inspected by the customs official, Mr. Azumi interpreted, and Seikichi discreetly stood in the background. When the inspection was over, they went outside to the waiting hack. The luggage was to be picked up by the transfer man later. Mr. Azumi ordered the driver to go to the hotel, as he had to attend to some other affair at the immigration station.

Seated together and alone for the first time, an awkward silence ensued. Seikichi realized that he had to say something, anything.

"You must be tired after the long trip." She looked up, tried to smile, and shook her head. It did not much succeed. There was no verbal response. He must try another approach.

"The scenery of Honolulu and the customs of Hawaii are so different from our native land. Take this horse-drawn cart for example. In Japan only the elite ride; here it is for everybody who pays the price. See the dark street urchins going about barefooted. Everybody can dispense with footwear without incurring adverse criticism from others. You will find that practically everything is different. It is funny at first, but once you get used to it, it is a pleasant place to live in."

A flush came to her cheeks. Her eyes were shining. She was eagerly imbibing the news and information of this land of which she had been dreaming so long. Seikichi continued, "There are many men and women from Yamaguchi in these islands. Kauai is another island to the north. It is much more beautiful than what you now see." The vehicle was now on River Street and the scenery up towards Nuuanu Valley was very beautiful, but the mud flats of the stream, in full glare of the afternoon sun, were not a spectacle to rave about. The beautification of Hawaii was a project for later generations. Just then the infant community was busy with expansion upon expansion and had no time for the esthetic. They crossed the wooden bridge that spanned the river and were in front of the hotel. Hearing the wheels stop, a maid came out and led the bride upstairs to their bridal suite. It differed in no way from the other rooms: contained a double bed, a bureau, three straight-backed chairs, and a closet. The floor was covered with thin straw mats that were not new and had been burned in different places by cigarettes. The wall was decorated with a single print of an oil painting. It depicted a lake reflecting an imposing snow-capped mountain that abruptly rose from the water's edge. Other than that there was not a single ornament except for an ash tray on a rickety table. But to Haru, this was a release from the regimented life on the ship and at the immigration station. This room with its outlandish furnishings was new to her; it signified Western civilization. It was a symbol, her first contact with that which she had dreamed about in the past seven months. The maid showed her the bathroom and said that she would be back in an hour to escort them to church for the marriage ceremony. Funny to have a religious marriage, she thought, when she was already married for the past seven months. Perhaps it was a strange notion of the Hawaiian people to be married again and again; it was not a bad idea at that. It made the marriage knot tighter and tighter. Even she could recall members of the male sex who were straying rather easily from the marital fold in her native town. To make the occasion solemn was not without its good aspect, although in a strange land, among strangers, every added ritual was an ordeal. The femininity in her, seasoned for the past half year of living with in-laws, without the blessings due a bride, had steeled her to an independent view of life seldom seen in a virgin of her age.

The chapel was Congregational. The altar decorated with various symbolic paraphernalia was not like that of a Buddhist temple. It was not there to lend atmosphere. It was of a most austere simplicity. To her, accustomed to Buddhist rituals, a Roman Catholic ceremony would have been more solemn and significant and she could have felt some link to her past in the surge of a religious emotion. As it was, she was not particularly impressed. Only the solid gold ring placed on her finger during the ceremony gladdened her heart. After all, there was something concrete and tangible derived from this Western custom. Just as her mother had to shave off her eyebrows, blacken her teeth, and wear a new elaborate coiffure to show her married status, she would henceforth be wearing this simple but significant symbol to show that she was a wife; a station in life coveted by womankind all over the world.

It was early evening when they were at last alone in the room. The luggage had already arrived and she began to take necessary articles from the willow trunk. Seikichi came to help with alacrity. Various toilet articles that only women use began to appear on the bureau top. Kimono and underwear came out and were laid out on the bed. An odor that issues only from such feminine wearing apparel pervaded the room. Seikichi was intoxicated with this aroma. It was a forgotten sensation. This was the same odor that filled the room when his mother had taken her kimono from the tansu to doll up for some festivity or visit another village. He experienced a new satisfaction of possessiveness. This was his mate. There was also the peculiar association of his mother and this woman. The woman nearest his heart had been his mother, but the entire family had to share her love and affection. Now came this woman to arouse his male instinct and he was in a position to monopolize her completely. This association was made clear by the odor emanating from the kimono. Primitive instincts long forgotten, but lying latent in evolutionary memory, arise on different occasions to assert the truth of the Darwinian concept, despite our gilded armor of civilization. Somewhere in our forgotten past, courtship must have been instigated principally by the powerful attraction of the opposite sex perceived by the olfactory mechanism. As if to end Seikichi's reverie, the maid knocked and announced, "The dining room is ready, and awaiting your presence."

At a long table, the five new couples were seated—each pair occupying places adjacent to each other. In the center of the table, covered with oil cloth, was a calabash of steaming, boiled rice. At each place was a porcelain bowl, a pair of sterilized, sanitary wooden chopsticks enclosed in wax paper, and two empty dishes, large and small. From a large communal plate, the brides were dishing out a concoction of beef and vegetables, fish cooked in plain shoyu, and some slices of raw fish to be eaten with shoyu mixed with mustard. Seikichi sat still as Haru stood up and filled his bowl with rice and his plate with the various items of food. Then she served herself. The maid came in with a tray of soup in lacquered bowls. Haru took two. As she picked up the wooden chopsticks, and placed them on his plate, she said softly, "Oagari nasai (please partake of it.)" Such service was almost embarrassing for an erstwhile bachelor. Only after he began eating did she start, and even then her appetite was like a canary's. He marvelled at this lack of appetite; it must be reticence and bashfulness.

The women were quiet. During their long voyage they must have become friends, but now there was no carefreeness. They did not wish to appear flippant before their mates' eyes. The men were total strangers. Under the circumstances the supper table was as solemn as a sepulchre. Each finished eating with undue haste. As he led the way out, Seikichi turned to Haru, "I am going out for a little walk. You may return to the room." She bowed obeisance and went upstairs. He went out and proceeded to the corner Chinese store across the bridge where he had noticed fruits on the counter earlier in the day. There he bought some bright colored mangoes, bananas, and oranges.

When he returned to their room, Haru was sitting on one of the straight-back chairs fanning herself, for the setting sun was fierce and there was not a sign of a breeze. She greeted him with a smile that was no longer forced. To have served him, even in a small capacity at the table, seemed to have earned her the right to claim this man as her husband. To comfort him, to be a hand or a foot for her lord, was a duty to be pleasurably performed by a wife. She had been trained so at home. To have made a start in the right direction made her glad. She no longer felt, as a stranger to him. The mutual discard of the icy barrier was more speedy than the melting of late spring snow in the morning sun. She was conscious now that in this wide world there was no one to whom she could turn for help or comfort other than this man whom she had scarcely known six hours.

"Now that we have nothing to do, let me have news from home. Is everybody well? Are my parents healthy?"

"Your august parents are as well as could be. Neither of them has lost a day of work this year. The crop was coming up well. The rice plant was about two inches tall when I left. There was ample rainfall in May to assure good irrigation. The wheat crop was normal in its yield during the spring, so there is no acute want among the villagers. Your brother's wife recently gave birth to her second son and both are doing well. Our sister-in-law is fortunate."

"And how are your parents at Mitajiri? I have only a faint memory of how they look, but we shall get acquainted even if the best we could do was a photograph."

"Thank you. They are also well and send their most sincere greetings to you. Oh yes, I have a letter written by my father." She rose and from among her writing materials she produced a long envelope on which his name was written boldly with brush and India ink.

He broke open the seal and the contents read in part: By the curious turn of the wheel of Karma our families have become intimately linked together again by this marriage. She may not have been brought up sufficiently well to suit your taste. If she has faults and is lacking in feminine virtues, we her parents are to blame for such shortcomings. Pray be patient and lead her to a loftier plane of womanhood. As a loving husband and protector you will be able to mould her character according to your wish and ideal. This we do not doubt, for she is still pliable. Where we have failed as disciplinarians, you will succeed with your love. In a strange land, her husband will be her sole support and counselor. My wife and I entrust you with her future happiness. May you both prosper and live happily, long after we two shall have departed from this earthly existence.

Seikichi was deeply moved. He saw that this father-in-law was no ordinary farmer or merchant. After reading the letter and folding it slowly and carefully, he said to her feelingly, "I shall answer this letter myself, but when you write home, convey my message also—how I have been deeply moved. It seems what I wanted to tell you, your father has told me. At your leisure, tomorrow, you had better read this message also. It is a message both of us should heed. I have gained a very wise father-in-law."

Haru blushed deeply and was grateful for the consideration of this man for uttering such sentiments. Japanese males are usually reticent about showing their feelings. This spontaneous gesture won her over to him completely.

Just then, there was a knock and the maid announced that the hot bath was ready. Haru got to her feet and said, "Please take off your clothes." She began looking among his things for his yukata, a kimono of cotton fabric worn in the summer months. This she put over his back as he began taking his trousers off, and as he pushed his arms through the sleeves, her arms were around his waist tying the sash for him.

She followed him to the bathroom. As he sank his body up to his chin in the steaming hot water, she was tying her long sleeves behind her back, and tucking up the lower hem of her kimono. "Now, let me scrub your back."

He emerged from the water as red as a lobster and sat on a low wooden stool, turning his back to her. Japanese baths have a space outside the tub where soap and water may be used repeatedly. She lathered his back and arms with soap thoroughly and briskly scrubbed him. Then with fresh hot water she washed him off. After saying "At your leisure," she left the bathroom. He completed washing the rest of his torso and then immersed himself again luxuriantly in the steaming water. Relaxed completely, he reviewed the day's happenings. It was an eventful day. One thing after another, but everything a happy incident. How well-bred she was! How lucky he was! He had his parents to thank for having picked a girl with attributes he had scarcely thought possible. The female sex was so thoughtful. Losing himself in reverie, he was aware of becoming faint. The heat was making him groggy. Hurriedly he got out of the bath. He poured several basinfuls of cold water over his head and dried himself with a fresh towel.

He returned to the room and after telling her to take her turn at the bath, he sauntered forth into the street in his cool yukata.

Honolulu was a small town of perhaps thirty thousand. The Japanese clustered about along the Nuuanu River and infiltrated into the more established Chinatown for business. Aala Park was a loitering place for the hundreds of laborers travelling back and forth from the Oahu plantations and awaiting trains, the principal means of transportation. Men turned brown by constant exposure to the sun, wearing coarse dungarees and slouching lauhala hats, stumbled from the corner saloon and made merry on the green lawn of the park. Dusk was just settling and the leaves of the ironwood trees along the western edge of the park were restling with the slight breeze that stirred with the setting sun. Prostitutes of different nationalities plied their illicit trade here, and Seikichi, as if the mere sight of these women defiled his eyes, moved away toward the railroad station. The evening train had just pulled in from the country with forty or fifty passengers. This was Friday and people were being attracted to the town for the weekend.

To Seikichi's country mind, even the laborers here seemed a little more dapper. Maybe their ways of spending money were not quite the same. He looked at the little shops that catered to this fluctuating and floating population. Certainly they were enjoying a brisk business. The soft drink parlors and fruit stands were packed with customers who came to quench their thirst and to buy something for friends or for families back on the plantations. He was interested in the way the merchandise was arranged and displayed on the counters and shelves. The clicking cash register bespoke modernization. The kimono-clad girls in the shops seemed to be an attraction in some stores. Perhaps this was essential when competition was keen. The Chinese merchants operated more substantial shops and seemed more prosperous.

He made the rounds along Aala Street, onto Beretania, and back to the hotel. It was already dark and the gas street lights illuminated the early evening. Under the shroud of fading light and encroaching darkness, the street scene took on an exotic quality of softness and quiet. He wanted to linger a while longer but in spite of himself he was drawn upstairs.

Haru was wearing a yukata of bright design tied firmly at the waist with an abbreviated obi, and had finished her evening toilet. Noticing this, Seikichi sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted very much to stretch and sprawl on the mat as was his wont in Japan. Inadvertently, without forethought, he fell on his back. Softly as a cat she was at the side of the bed, with a pillow for his neck.

"Thank you. Oh I nearly forgot. I noticed yor appetite was not much. So I bought some Hawaiian fruits that I am sure you have not yet seen or tasted. You will find them in that package on the table. Help yourself." Haru was touched. He had noticed her to the extent of gauging her wants and needs; not only noticed but took active steps to rectify and supplement them.

"Oh I am so glad! In this package? What do you call these oblong ones that are so fragrant? Mangoes? I know these are bananas because I saw them in pictures. These oranges are much larger than in Japan. I think I shall try the mangoes first." She went out and borrowed a knife and two plates from the kitchen. She peeled one, sliced it and placed it on the plate. Taking out a few toothpicks, she placed them on a plate and offered it to Seikichi.

"Don't consider me. It was meant for you."

"But you must also share it. I shan't have it alone. Oh, this is delicious. There is a pleasant odor, isn't there? Not bad, like pine oil." He smiled and she smiled. It was the first time they had smiled in unison.