Читать книгу Hawaii End of the Rainbow - Kazuo Miyamoto - Страница 12

SEIKICHI WAS LATE IN AWAKENING. HE HAD slept like a log. It was already light outside, perhaps seven o'clock. The bed beside him was empty and the odor of her person faintly lingered on the pillow. He drew out a cigarette and was puffing leisurely, smiling to himself inwardly of what had transpired last night. She had become his wholly. Even the thought of it sent his blood surging through his body, accelerated by the feminine aroma that still remained there. Just then she slipped silently into the room. She had arisen early and had already completed her toilet. Not to let her husband catch her in a dishevelled condition from the night's rest was one of the virtues of a Japanese wife. She was to arise and wake her husband when she had made herself presentable.

" Have you been awake long? How has your sleep been?" he asked. Her eyes were averted, her cheeks colored deeply.

She answered, "I was not able to sleep for quite a while, but once I dozed off I slept well. I was out on the veranda and taking in the fresh morning air." Seikichi was relieved that she was no different. Last night's experience had not changed her any.

"By the way, do you know the bride next door, Mrs. Murayama? I happened to meet the husband yesterday and we became friends."

"Yes. She and I became fast friends on board the ship. In fact we shared adjacent bunks." She was now able to face him eye to eye. There was no shyness left in her glance. She had earned a rightful place in this unit of society that was to begin with them. The act she had been dreading inwardly for some time was consummated rather easily. She was surprised to find herself the same; her thoughts and bodily condition were the same and there was no momentous subjective change, either mental or physical, that she could feel. Such had been her thoughts, introspection, and self analysis this morning as she had stood outside and inhaled the fresh breeze blowing from the Nuuanu Pali. But as she faced the man she was conscious of an inner metamorphosis; to feel that she was the same as yesterday was a delusion. There was a change, subtle but definite. She belonged to this male to whom she was mated. The biological aim of her being and her existence had just begun and in time would bear fruit. She no longer was afraid of him. In fact, she was aware of a desire to monopolize him, to make him hers solely and she was able to say calmly, "It is time you got up; I saw the maids were busy in the kitchen. The call for breakfast may come any minute."

The street car was horse drawn and extended to the Waikiki district. The Arata and Murayama couples boarded the car on King St. and were taken into downtown Honolulu. The sights on the streets were not only novel to the women, but also to the men, for in spite of the fact that they had been living in Hawaii for a number of years, their knowledge of Honolulu was practically nil. They had been sent to the other islands directly from the immigration station. Therefore the imposing stone and brick buildings of the main business section about Fort St., the new Young Hotel, the Palace of the King, the Legislature, the Opera House, and the executive buildings were sights to impress these young country people. The dusty road that was King St., lined with residences and interspersing shopping districts, impressed upon them the size of Honolulu.

Turning to the right at Pawaa Junction, the view changed to a rural scene different from anything they had yet laid eyes upon. Pond upon pond extended as far as they could see and myriads of domestic ducks leisurely floated in droves, busily ducking their necks into the water for morsels of food. The surface of the stagnant water was green with scum and algae. Near the homes of the Chinese who owned these ponds were wire corrals within which the birds took shelter at night. It was then that Seikichi remembered the Chinese were great duck eaters, preferring duck eggs even to those laid by chickens.

As they neared Waikiki, banana farms took the place of duck ponds. In geometrical rows the stunted variety of so-called Chinese bananas were planted and heavy bunches of green fruit dotted the roadside. The immaculately white Moana Hotel and cottages of the Seaside Hotel came into view. Waikiki Beach was then a stretch of white sand in its natural state, untarnished by stone walls or eating places. From the outer reef's edge, against which the billowy waves battered, waves of gigantic height and extent raced towards the shore like white crested steeds. More than a dozen native boys were riding these turbulent waves sitting astride, lying or standing on, long wooden boards. They approached the shore at breakneck speed, only to be stopped in the shallows as the waves lost their original impact and force. In the bright sun the deep blue of the Pacific, the numerous streaks of white crests of onrushing waves, and the white sandy shore fringed by curving coconut palms, was a scene unique to Haru who had been raised on the shores of the Inland Sea, shores of which are lined with quaint villages and numerous islands crowned with pine trees.

They got off the street car in front of the aquarium and proceeded to the beach. Kapiolani Park, as this part at Waikiki was called, lay at the foot of Diamond Head, an extinct volcanic crater. It was a spacious, well kept ground with rows of ironwood trees along the road. In another section there was a huge banyan tree with its many roots supporting the spreading branches. Peacocks roamed about unmolested on the green, nestling in the branches of the banyan tree at night. Peacocks connoted royalty and their presence imparted to the young people an impression of wealth and distinction.

Another place that left a lasting impression on the young folks was the aquarium that housed the exotic, fantastically colored tropical fish. It was continuous "ahs" and "ohs" on the part of the girls. The contrast in the primitive colors on a single fish was so marked and decided that a painter could not have been so bold in his selection of colors. Unless one actually saw the fish, he would not believe that such creatures existed at all. From the beautiful Zebra-like martini to the ferocious sea-reptiles, the puhi, which showed their rows of jagged teeth on yawning, they wandered forth around the glass compartments like Alices in Wonderland.

"Now I know this fish," said Seikichi proudly to the crowd. "These are called ulua and make the best eating fish raw or cooked. They are the Hawaiian counterpart of tai."

The two girls said in unison pointing at the next tank, "This fish we know. It is called a turtle." All laughed together in loud childish glee.

They spread their luncheon on the green lawn underneath the coconut trees and as Seikichi wandered away to buy some soda water from the push-cart vendor of fruit and soft drinks, the edibles prepared by the maid that morning were being dished out. It was a jolly picnic, away from prying eyes and non-familiar faces. Being a week day, very few people loitered in the park. They felt as if they owned the vast playground. After partaking of the light lunch, the men sprawled on the ground and the girls sat with their legs stretched comfortably.

"Murayama-san," said Seikichi "you will be leaving for Hawaii tomorrow, and it may be a long time before we shall ever see each other again. But since our acquaintance began with our wives being on the same boat coming over, let us keep up our correspondence."

"I shall be only too glad to hear from you. You can depend upon my punctuality in answering. We are both trying to make our stay in Hawaii productive. I shall try my best to forge ahead. I hear that you have become a storekeeper already and I wish you all success. For my part, I have no proclivities in that line and must, stick to farming. But the country is full of opportunities and I intend to succeed. Originally, I had the idea of returning to Japan on the expiration of the three year contract, but now I feel differently. I am going to make enough money here to retire on in my old age."

Saying so much in the presence and hearing of his wife and her friend seemed both good and bad for Murayama. It appeared to be bombastic and boastful, an impression he did not want to create, but man to man it was an expression born of intimate camaraderie and understandable. As for his wife he did not much care. They had been sweethearts and knew each other's shortcomings and strong points as much as every lover pretends to know. Their first night they had mutually confessed that after five long years of waiting they both had matured physically, but on talking and exchanging views they discovered that they were the same. They both were children at heart.

So he continued, "But some day we shall come together again, I am sure. With money at our command, distance will shrink. We must see every island with our own eyes and it will be very convenient indeed when there is someone you know on the other islands. Be sure to look us up, as we shall expect to visit you in our turn." They talked and planned for the future, for they were young and optimistic. Hopefulness is synonymous with youth.