Читать книгу Hawaii End of the Rainbow - Kazuo Miyamoto - Страница 14

ALMOST EVERY TWO OR THREE YEARS, Mrs. Arata was with child and she was a mother of five in no time. Being of sturdy stock, the dual role of storekeeper and mother did not affect her very much. From morning till night she worked hard. There was little time for her to relax or enjoy herself. Like all pioneering women, her life was swamped and buried under the daily routine of cooking, washing, and attending to customers. She was active and pleasant. She was happy with the growing children, and the expanding business gave her impetus and the will to work. More and more people came to Kauai, for wages on the plantations increased and money floated about freely. Occasionally, she would become homesick for her native Mitajiri and its seasonal festive gaiety, but lately there was much activity in Kauai which made her forget such nostalgic cravings. All in all, she adapted herself to Hawaiian life very quickly and considered herself fortunate in having made the decision to come to this distant land.

Her eldest and pride of her flock was her son Sadao. To have had a son for the first child was not the best arrangement she could have wished for as a busy mother. A girl would have rendered her life much easier as she would have had a helper about the house to aid her in the daily routine and in the care of little ones that arrived regularly. But as the first child was a boy (aside from the natural attachment between mother and son, there seems to be a biological affinity between parents and offspring of different sexes) there was the peculiar satisfaction she felt during her initial puerperal period. One has to be an Oriental mother to bask in this contentment: a feeling like riding atop the world. Next to a barren wife, life was most miserable for one who could not bring forth a male child to perpetuate the family name. She earned for herself a rightful place in the eyes of the ancestors.

To her, the red-faced, wrinkled infant that lay so helpless at her side was more than her flesh and blood. He seemed to incarnate in his wriggling body the hopes and frustrations of myriads of his ancestors. And she was the medium through which this link was forged. He nursed well and cried lustily when hungry. She had plenty of milk. To suckle was sometimes painful because of the force with which the infant nursed, but it was not unpleasant or bothersome. There seemed to be nothing wrong with his physical makeup. It was funny, she thought, that she should feel so wrapped up in this tiny child, but by his arrival she knew that in Japan the old in-laws and her parents would be immensely proud. A special offering of thanks would be offered to the village shrine, the gods of which watched over the sons and daughters of the villagers, no matter where they happened to be domiciled. Not only would there be much rejoicing by relatives in Japan, but there would be a feast again in Hawaii, and the credit would come to her. She could not help feeling contented: she was in fact filled with a glow of satisfaction. These were perhaps the happiest days of her life.

For thirty days she was supposed to take care of herself according to custom. Had she been in the old country, on the thirty-first day she would have taken the infant, clad in resplendent kimono, to the shrine to exhibit to the gods, present offerings of thanks, and beseech further protection from evil in the life that was then beginning. At the same time she could fold up her bedding and enter conjugal life without fear of untoward consequences. Such restrictions were wise regulations, born of experience governing post-partum care and sex relations, to avoid infections and damage to the maternal body. But such leisurely precautions and care were workable only in a family with many spare hands. In Hawaii, things must be done differently. Out of necessity, she was up and working on the fourteenth day and was none the worse for her early activity.

A Chinese neighbor brought her a potful of duck cooked over a slow fire for many hours, so that the essence of the fowl was collected in the thick extract. This she was urged to drink to facilitate and speed her convalescence. Obediently she took it daily and seemed to feel much stronger each day. Her lactation seemed to be favorably influenced and the infant waxed fat.

During the intervening years, Sadao did not suffer from the usual childhood diseases—except for measles. The other childhood ailments were of later importation to this isolated Paradise of the Pacific. The Aratas prospered.

In the meantime, the Hawaiian kingdom was abolished and the islands were incorporated as an integral part of the United States. Modernization programs in all fields of industrial and cultural endeavors became marked. Great strides were made. Public schools were opened in the remotest villages of the islands and attendance was made compulsory. According to the terms of the Annexation Protocol, all citizens of the monarchy and succeeding Republic and Provisional Governments were to become American citizens automatically with the raising of the Stars and Stripes over the archipelago. Children born in the islands naturally were citizens according to the constitution of the United States. They were therefore being educated as American citizens. Teachers were being trained at the Territorial Normal Training School at Honolulu and the shortage was supplemented by teachers from the mainland.

The district school had an enrollment of about two hundred pupils. Cosmopolitan in makeup, the student body was composed of Japanese, Chinese, Hawaiians, Portuguese, Spanish, and Koreans. The teaching staff was almost as representative of the conglomeration of racial extractions that made up the population—Portuguese, Chinese, Part-Hawaiian, and Caucasians. Japanese and Koreans did not appear on the list as their arrival had been recent and none of the children were old enough to have attained that age group.

The melting-pot process was a success. Youngsters were being instilled with the ideals of democracy without letup and each was made to feel that he was just as good an American as the direct descendants of the passengers on the Mayflower. Considering the fact that annexation of the islands was effected only a dozen or so years previously, it was a startling achievement that the children could be so Americanized. Surrounded by elders who spoke pidgin English enunciated with a peculiar accent, the children's enunciation might not have been the equal of a New England child's, his diction was limited and relatively poor, yet his line of thought and his convictions were typically American after several years of schooling.

Since their parents were immigrants from the old world, the children had to speak in a different tongue to their elders. But they were handicapped in the usage of the mother tongue at home. In other words, the children could neither speak good English nor use the language of their parents correctly. As years went by there evolved in Hawaii a new jargon—a conglomeration of English, Japanese, and Hawaiian, with a pronounced intonation like the Portuguese language. This became the popular colloquial medium through which the elders of different racial strains made themselves understood to each other, and was prevalent on all plantations. The children had a difficult time speaking any form of language in its pure form.

Among the common people, racial barriers were minimal, and one person was as good as another. Only the ruling race, the Anglo-Saxons, held themselves haughty and aloof, priding themselves on racial superiority. Yet even they were not averse to taking native women for wives: perhaps out of necessity due to the scarcity of white women. Anyway many "hapa-haoles" or half-breeds came into being from these unions. The easy-going seductiveness of Hawaiian existence made all people tolerant and a spirit of "live and let live" seemed to be the guiding motif. Whatever contrary feelings one might have harbored regarding racial equality and intermarriage prior to his arrival in the islands, he soon changed his ideas about humanity. According to the Hawaiian mode of reasoning, as long as one was intrinsically good, just, and capable, he was welcome as one of the family, irrespective of his racial extraction. Thus intermarriage was a common occurrence and usually ended happily.

In such an environment, children grew up as Hawaiian citizens—Neo-Pacific nationals—as some preferred to designate them. Many had half a dozen strains of blood running in their veins, but the pure stock felt the same way. A healthy sort of camaraderie that lasted to manhood sprang up among the boys and survived the change in the world's outlook. It was a result of mature experience and judgment.

Sadao Arata was no exception and he grew to be a strapping youngster with a mode of thought typical of this growing generation. Just as vegetation grows smoothly and rapidly, man matures rapidly in the sub-tropics. Some girls begin menstruating at nine or ten. This is a phenomenon not only encountered among the Hawaiian natives, but among second generation girls whose cousins in colder latitudes would not reach adolescence until fourteen to sixteen.

An episode without any sequel occurred at this time and its meshes threatened to involve young Sadao. Miss Miriam Kealoha was a Chinese-Hawaiian school teacher who had inherited the good features of her dual ancestry. In her, harshness in her original ancestral strains were softened and moderated and produced a harmonious blend in her charming personality. Of medium height and seductively beautiful, her large, dreamy eyes, characteristic of the Polynesians, enhanced her loveliness. Used to urban life with much entertainment and many friends to make life exciting, existence at a Kauai district school was tame and monotonous, especially to a full-blooded young woman in her prime.

Among her pupils, she noticed at once the artistic inclination and aptitude of Sadao Arata who not only could sing well, an accomplishment so dear to Hawaiian hearts, but could draw remarkably well in spite of his lack of training. Lacking this talent herself, it was not long before she asked the assistance of twelve-year-old Sadao to illustrate stories and biology lessons. Well developed for his age on account of his constant outdoor life and vigorous exercise, Sadao was a young man in stature, but the somatic portion of his development outdid his germinal cells. As far as his sexual life was concerned, he was relatively retarded in spite of the climatic factor. In this respect he was different from the other children who matured early. His artistic temperament also tended to paint the universe in beautiful colors and human relationship in childish romanticism. His dream world was of the knights of old and fairy-like damsels were to be looked at, but beyond reach. The inner urge was not there. Libido as yet lay dormant within this half-developed man.

Miriam Kealoha had had an escapade or two during Normal School days. Few maids of Polynesian blood ever escaped being involved in such romances in their late 'teens and early twenties: especially one as attractive as Miriam. She was by no means over-sexed. To the contrary she would be classed as a "hypo" among her racial sisters. She was nevertheless lonely. She was a teacher, a respectable person in a gossipy countryside. Eligible young men were scarce and she did not relish being tied down as a wife to a country swain. She had to watch her step and do nothing impulsive. Yet emotions kept her vaguely restless. Nights were long: the cool Trade Wind rustling the green fronds of coconut palms, the bright moon, and the distant strumming of ukulele and guitar, made her homesick for the life of Honolulu and its people. The lot of a young country teacher was not without its handicaps.

"Sadao, will you stay after school please. I have something I should like to have you do for me." So he remained after two o'clock alone with his teacher to draw pictures for story lessons for the following day. It occurred once or twice every week. One afternoon he was drawing the scene depicting Washington crossing the Delaware while Miriam added color with crayons. Working side by side, she was conscious of a certain vague excitement. She tried to suppress it but it was not unpleasant. Intent on his work of making a faithful copy of the general in the open boat Sadao was aware of his body touching his teacher's. He was frightened and bashful and he squirmed away. Her reactions were different and she could contain herself no longer.

"Sadao, I have some candy for you. Let us take a rest—plenty of time and there is no sense in overworking ourselves." So saying, she beckoned him to come to her desk after she seated herself in the chair. He was hesitant to take the proffered candy. Laughingly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of her and forced him to sit on her chair between her thighs, holding on to his body as if in an embrace. He was quiet and as still as a mouse. She was excited but afraid. An electric shock raced through her body up and down her spine. The physical contact was pleasant: the beardless face was smooth against her cheek. This sensation was different from that experienced when she was in the passive role of a woman.

"Have some candy," and she pushed a piece of her favorite hard candy into his mouth. He was very uncomfortable, but dared not refuse. Obediently he received the candy between parted lips. The sensation was a ticklish one but no more meaning could be perceived by this half-grown man. Her hands went to his forehead, brushing his hair back and to his ears. Still no response was experienced by the boy other than a squirming uncomfortableness. Sadao was extremely happy when Miriam agreed that they should contine work on the drawing.

As Christmas drew near, the classes began preparing for a simple ceremony before school closed for vacation. The blackboards on the four walls were to be decorated with drawings appropriate for the season. The three wise men on camels led by the guiding star and the scene of the stable and manger were drawn. As the final touch, a Santa Claus riding a sleigh drawn by six reindeer was to ornament the front blackboard. In the midst of her class, Miriam announced, "I am leaving you all alone for a short while. I am going back to my cottage for a post card of Santa. While I am gone, you must all be quiet and read your lessons. I don't want to have Miss Smith in the next room complain of your noisiness later on. Now, Sadao, you come along with me to select a good picture of Santa Claus."

The teacher's cottage was an ordinary cottage with a parlor, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. She entered her bedroom and motioned to Sadao to follow. Awkwardly the boy stood by while she opened her trunk and produced a bundle tied with a red ribbon. It was a collection of Christmas cards that she had received in previous years. She sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for him to sit next to her. Then putting an arm about his shoulders, she began to examine each card carefully, evaluating each for its appropriateness. He was earnestly scrutinizing each picture with an inborn sense of artistic appreciation, apparently oblivious to the olfactory seductiveness emanating from the teacher. The shades were drawn to shut out the noon-day sun. They were alone. But it was not to be . . .

As he grew older and understood more of life, Sadao had cause to regret his adolescence, but his memory of Miriam Kealoha was always a pleasant one long after she left the plantation for another district. Even after she was caught in a scandal that forced her to resign from the teaching profession, Sadao always cherished her memory.

In 1912, when Sadao was thirteen, he was sent to Honolulu to acquire a big-town education and to learn the Japanese language. His parents found their son was becoming too Americanized and could hardly speak Japanese, in spite of the years spent at the plantation language school. The Japanese school, where an hour a day was spent devoted to the language of the mother country, could not stem the natural tendency of the second generation children to converse in the language of their country. This seemed to indicate a gloomy future for Sadao as far as his folks were concerned.

To the Aratas, no man could get above the common herd unless he was equipped with an education that would put him above the level of his contemporaries. In a community predominantly Japanese, the English language was important, but it alone was not enough. If proficiency of the prevailing language was the sole requisite for success in life, then Orientals were out of luck. Those born where English was spoken at home were the most qualified. But in a cosmopolitan community, anyone armed with the command of two or more languages was sure to be rewarded with an important job. For interpreters and liaison officers, such attainments were in demand on the plantations and in the big commercial houses and banks of Honolulu. The American executives were also loud in demanding such qualified men.

Aside from the concrete social and pecuniary advantages to be derived from a Japanese education, the parents longed to see their son pick up some Japanese traits prized by all compatriots--faithfulness to tradition of "Giri and Ninjo," a peculiarly Japanese custom of moral obligation or indebtedness to acts of kindness or social ties that at times may demand a sacrificial response in terms of material or even life. It was a code of honor gradually evolved in the centuries of an inbreeding civilization of a hermit nation. To persons of the first generation, the happy-go-lucky, self-centered, irresponsible tendencies of their offspring were sources of worry and concern. To them, a man is measured in the degree of responsibility he takes in his uttered promises and in his willingness to devote himself to communal welfare--not the egotistic betterment of one's lot alone. From this viewpoint the family must be the unit of society and as such stand or fall together: in contra-distinction to the individualistic way of looking after oneself alone, which was the attitude of the Hawaiian community.

As a successful grocer of the countryside, as a leader of the Japanese community of Makaweli, Seikichi Arata had his prestige to look after. The Consulate General in Honolulu appointed him, without compensation, to help fill out applications from the illiterate, to interpret orders, and in general help the official Japanese representative keep the immigrants orderly. He was involved in all the major activities of the plantation and was consulted about anything that happened, good or bad. Nothing would enhance his position more than to send his son to Honolulu. It would set him aside as a far-seeing man, as a well-to-do personage in the eyes of his friends. To his own selfish interests, there was the promise of perpetuating a prosperous line of Aratas in the land of his adoption.

A Japanese High School in Honolulu had been operated for the past five years and the pick of the students from the country schools were heading for Honolulu. The school taught advanced Japanese, and was headed by well-educated teachers. The students attending this school attended the American School in Honolulu as well. Thither proceeded Sadao in September 1912.