Forgiveness Page 13

  CHAPTER 7

  Mitsue’s War

  Mitsue and Hideo had to report to the Canadian Pacific Railway Station at 8 a.m. sharp. Mitsue was up before dawn. She had been awake the entire night. She ran a bath and put on her best skirt and blouse. She had ironed them both the night before. She put on a little makeup.

  Mitsue had never heard the house so quiet. She tiptoed down the stairs, made a cup of tea, and sat at the table by herself. She was preparing herself, trying to brace herself, gather her strength. She knew she’d need it.

  Hanpei and Wari came down the stairs together. Mitsue made more tea and some somen noodles for them.

  “Arigato,” they said.

  It was a day like no other. Their trunks were packed, nailed, and stacked by the front door.

  Mitsue made a little nigiri for Hideo and June and then cleaned the dishes. When they were both done eating, Mitsue put the bowls and chopsticks into the basket that would be left for the rooming house owner. What use were they to them anymore?

  They left the kitchen together. Hideo turned out the light and they waited in the front lobby in the half-light of dawn. Not a word was spoken. Mitsue was glad that she had taken a little time to prepare herself because she felt a wave of emotion. She swallowed hard to keep it at bay; to keep it all inside. She was so frightened to leave.

  The truck they had arranged arrived right at 7 a.m. The outfit had taken many Japanese families to the train station, so the driver knew how to handle the wooden boxes. He stacked them quickly and neatly in the back of the truck. As they drove away, Mitsue didn’t turn around to watch the boarding house or Little Tokyo fade away. She kept her eyes forward and tried not to blink. She didn’t want tears ruining her makeup. She kept her hands folded in her lap so nobody would notice them shaking. Amid the confusion, terror, and anxiety, there was an unspoken code of silence. Everyone’s hands were folded. Everyone’s hands were shaking. They tried to be Japanese in the best way they knew how, by keeping their composure, keeping their civility.

  Mitsue met her family on the train station platform. They were all dressed in their Sunday clothes too. Yosuke had his overcoat on even though the sun was starting to warm the air and the grey morning mist was lifting. They had packed less than Mitsue had. It looked like they were going on a camping trip. Susanne had made sure to bring all of her school books, even though nobody knew if she’d be able to find a school where they were going. Mary had a deck of cards and a few board games to pass the time. She had a Ouija board too. Maybe she would look for some answers there. Where were they going? What would it be like? Why was this happening?

  The station was full of Japanese folks. Mitsue looked across the platform. Half of them were children. Some she knew from Sunday school.

  They had to load their own trunks on the train. Pat and Hideo did most of the heavy lifting for the two families. Once that was done, an officer with a bullhorn ordered everyone to board.

  Mitsue felt like a cow at Hastings Park. Her heart sank as she sat down on a wooden bench. Her worst fears were coming true. She sat by the window and Hideo sat next to her. He took her arm as the train jerked forward. Clickety-clack down the tracks, the train made them sway back and forth in their seats. Mitsue saw a policeman standing on a box with a rifle, staring at the train as it went by. His face was blank. There were some people on the platform still holding hands through the windows with loved ones on the train, and running alongside it. They didn’t want to say goodbye. One man panicked. He wouldn’t let go of his wife’s hand. Finally, as the train picked up speed, he fell onto the platform. His whole family was gone. His wife was sitting with two small children a few rows up from Mitsue. She put her hands to her face and cried until she fell asleep.

  The train left the station at 8:45 a.m. They were in a dirty old car with rows of wooden benches. It smelt of dust and sweat and dirt. There were no dining cars or food of any kind. There was one common toilet and it hadn’t been cleaned in some time. Passengers and luggage were all packed in tight. A lady a few rows back complained loudly that they were being treated like pigs. She was speaking in loud Japanese and then burst into tears.

  The scenery outside was familiar but already everything felt different. Mitsue was saying goodbye to the city of Vancouver, goodbye to her life as she knew it. It had been taken away from her—all of it. The Sunday school kids, her job with Mrs. Yamamoto, sunny afternoons in Stanley Park with friends, family dinners in Celtic, the thrill of starting her own life. This city was throwing her out. She and every single person she loved had been uprooted and discarded.

  By evening, they were at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Mitsue had never seen them before. She thought they were beautiful. They looked like a great wall. The passengers had no idea what was on the other side of the mountains. The train slowed to start the steep climb. Mitsue wondered if they were too heavy to make it.

  Night fell and the world became full of shadows. The moon hid behind the clouds. It was the most restless of nights. Mitsue could not lie down anywhere, so she leaned on Hideo. The metal sides of the train were cold going through the mountains. Everyone kept their jackets zipped tight.

  As day broke, they found themselves east of the Rockies, making their way through the foothills. Another world opened up before them. They had never seen anything like it; miles and miles of emptiness stretched as far as their sleepy eyes could see. There was a silence in the vastness. Mitsue felt as empty as the horizon.

  Everyone ate some of the onigiri that Mitsue had packed for breakfast. She had known that the rice balls would travel well and be appreciated. She passed them out to Hideo, June, Hanpei, and Wari. You seldom know exactly what someone is thinking, but when sharing food, you know just what the person is experiencing. They ate in silence.

  As the morning wore on, people talked more. Mitsue visited with her Celtic neighbours. They hadn’t been told much, but they did know that each family would disperse as soon as the train stopped. They all feared they would not see one another again for a long, long time.

  After lunch, everyone was tired. Most dozed off. Those who did awoke sometime later with a jerk that sent many flying out of their seats. Groggy, Mitsue tumbled down the steps, blinked to see daylight, and stretched her cramped body.

  Where were they? It was like waking up from a bad dream.

  They were at the train station in Lethbridge, Alberta, just east of the Rocky Mountains and in the Canadian prairies. Each family disembarked and assembled their belongings, staying together until their name was announced and the family was matched with a farmer who had contracted to use them as labourers on sugar beet farms. Mitsue stood with her family as tall and as straight as she could in her Sunday best as men walked past her, staring at her, claiming her with their eyes.

  On the train, she had been a prisoner. Off the train, she was a slave.

  A farmer by the name of Oscar Johnson took her parents, Mary, Susanne, and Pat. He was a large Swedish man in overalls with a round face and ruddy cheeks. He told them they were going to his farm in Coaldale, ten miles outside Lethbridge.

  Soon after that, a farmer with a wide gait slowly made his way towards Mitsue. He was staring back and forth between her and the paper he held in his hand.

  “Youse Sakamatos?”

  “Sakamoto family,” Hideo said, waving his finger to indicate them.

  “Okay. I’m Mr. Rutt, and you are all coming to work for me.”

  Hideo nodded and picked up the rice box. He nodded to everyone else to do likewise.

  That was it. They had all been claimed and would soon be on their way to their new homes. They were given ten minutes to write down where their friends and family were going. They all ran around exchanging P.O. box numbers on scraps of paper.

  Where are you going?

  Barnwell.

  Where are you going?

  Taber.

  Where are you going?

  Raymond. It is south of here.

  Where are you going?<
br />
  Picture Butte. It’s across a ravine, only it’s dry so they call them coulees.

  They were loaded onto the backs of farmers’ trucks and transported to these unknown destinations with only the clothes on their backs and their bags. Mitsue, Hideo, Hanpei, Wari, and June all bounced around in the back of Rutt’s big old truck. It was full of manure. She tried to hang on and not fall into it.

  The last few miles were bumpy and Wari was still very sore on her left side. It was a lingering pain from a fall in Vancouver. Hideo tried to keep her still. The truck took a sharp left onto a laneway and Mitsue could see a big barn and an old farmhouse. It was a desolate-looking place. Rutt hit the brakes hard, jolting everyone forward, and they stopped with a thud. Wari moaned.

  Mitsue’s teeth were clenched from stress as they gathered themselves slowly. Hideo was off first and he helped everyone down from the truck. The ground was muddy and Mitsue’s heels sank. She felt silly for having worn those shoes, but she had wanted to make a good impression on the people whose custody they would be in. She wanted them to know that her family were decent and civilized. That they were not enemies, they were not animals.

  “Your place is behind the barn. Unload your stuff and I’ll come by to show you around.”

  They each picked up a bag and made their way towards the barn. Mitsue stepped carefully around the muddy patches. The dirt path was only a hundred yards or so, but it was the longest walk of her life. Mitsue’s body became more tense with each step. She hoped that the house behind the barn would be decent. The barn itself was not a good omen. It was a rickety thing that needed paint. Through the wooden slates she could see a few horses moving around.

  They had to follow a trail along the side of the barn. Hideo was leading the way, so he saw the place before anyone else. Mitsue was ten paces back. She noticed a few wild prairie flowers growing alongside the barn before looking up to see Hideo stop suddenly, looking straight ahead.

  Mitsue tightened her grip on her bag and took her last ten paces with dread. As she stood beside Hideo, she saw a chicken coop. There were no chickens in it. Attached to it was an old shack. It looked like an outhouse, only bigger. There were no walls or windows, just wooden slats nailed together. As with the barn, you could see through them. The roof was made of planks as well. The hut was surrounded by mud and prairie wild grass. She thought that the grass in front might be a pasture because of the cow droppings.

  Mitsue stood beside Hideo in shock. Nobody said a word. They just stared at the old shack. Wari set her bag down on a dry patch of grass. Nobody wanted to open the front door. They stood there for some time. Finally Mr. Rutt came out of his house and opened the shack door for them.

  Mitsue ducked her head to avoid a big cobweb and took her first step in. There was a dirt floor. There was one bed in the corner of the room and a small wood stove beside a decrepit wooden table held together by rusted nails. Everything was filthy. Everywhere they looked they could see outside through the gaps in the walls. The wind whistled right through the shack.

  What were they supposed to do with the place?

  Mr. Rutt was apologetic. He explained that he had cleared out the chickens and patched up the roof so the rain wouldn’t get in. The shack had only been used in the summer months for migrant workers. It had never needed to be insulated. He promised he’d get to it before winter came around.

  Before winter? Mitsue couldn’t think about staying here for one more minute. She wanted to run.

  Mr. Rutt said he hadn’t realized that there would be five in the family. He said that he would bring another bed that could sleep Hideo and Mitsue. June would have to sleep with Hanpei and Wari. Mitsue looked around again and realized that they would all be sleeping, cooking, and eating in the one room. Her ears were ringing, her heart pounding. Mr. Rutt left to get the bed and closed the door behind him.

  They stood there in silence, the women in their Sunday dresses, purses in hand, the men in their coats and hats. They didn’t know where to begin. They could hear and feel the wind blow through the shack. The sunlight came in through the cracks in the walls. In the stillness, they watched the dust floating in the air around them. Dirt, dust, grime, wind. They were in Alberta. They were home.

  Shikata-ga-nai. They got on with it.

  First things first. June and Mitsue changed out of their shoes so that they could help unload the boxes from the truck.

  Their water source was a dugout one mile to the west of the shack. The water had to be boiled because the cows and horses drank from it, walked in it, and excreted into it. Mr. Rutt gave Hideo a few pails to cart up to the farmhouse hose to fetch drinking water.

  Rutt returned with another bed, a single.

  That night Mitsue lay as still as she could. Hanpei was snoring. She tried not to shake and wake up Hideo. But she had to let it out. It just had to come out. She cried all night long.

  The next morning, Hideo was up first. He had already lit a fire and was making tea they had brought from Vancouver. The familiar smell made everyone feel a little better. Mitsue wondered if her parents were faring any better. She went to the dugout and got some water for washing. Scooping it up from the muddy bank, she examined the pail, picking out a few leaves. The water was dirty brown.

  Walking back into the shack, she saw Hideo inspecting June’s back. There were red marks all over her. Hanpei was just getting out of the bed and undoing his yukata. His shoulder was covered with red marks too. Wari—still sore—stayed in the bed. Mitsue walked over to her and saw red marks on her neck. They’d never seen bedbug bites before. Hideo and Hanpei took their mattress outside, leaned it against the side of the shack, and beat it with sticks to try to get the bugs out. It didn’t do any good.

  Those first few weeks, they were scavengers, looking for everything and anything: food, utensils, furniture, a mirror, coffee cups, and coffee beans. By the second week, they had completely run out of the food they had brought, except for the tinned box of white rice. They still had plenty of that. Slowly, they accumulated what they needed, mostly from scraps that they got from Mr. Rutt.

  They also started to work.

  Rutt had about ten acres directly behind the shack. The west side of his land was lined with big poplar trees and long grass. It was empty, just earth and sky. For about half an hour Mr. Rutt showed them how to work the land. It all seemed simple enough. Everyone grabbed a hoe and started from the northwest corner. They had two days to seed the whole field.

  On Mitsue’s first day of manual labour she felt like a sentenced prisoner. The sun beat down on her and the hoe soon became heavy and burned her hands. By the third hour, everyone except Hideo was exhausted. Wari was very weak—her side was still hurting. Hanpei could still work but he was an old man. June was only fourteen, her frame too weak for such labour. Hideo picked up everyone’s slack.

  The sun was relentless. They took turns walking to the far end of the field to sit for a few minutes underneath the trees. The mosquitoes attacked. Dust packed their nostrils, dirt got entangled in their hair, grime jammed into their fingernails. Their throats were dry, their hands were welted, their backs ached.

  But Mitsue didn’t complain.

  That night they ate rice with a little chicken they got from Mr. Rutt. Everyone collapsed in bed after the dishes were done. Mitsue fell asleep dreaming of bedbugs crawling over her.

  Every day after that was just like the last. They were suspended in a dustbowl of a terrible dream. There was no waking from it.

  As the spring days turned to summer, the sun became their primary torturer. They’d wrap up in scarves to block it. That made them hotter, but it prevented sunstroke. That was the most important thing—sunstroke would keep you out of the field for at least a day. That cost money, money they needed. A bag of rice was five dollars, so they’d all work from dawn to dusk for a bag of rice. It was survival. Every single cent gave them life. Not a nice life, just life. They all had to survive this ordeal.

  The work was backb
reaking. As summer wore on, the days got longer and hotter. There wasn’t a cloud in the prairie sky. The temperature rose to forty degrees. They were paid by the beet weight, not the hour, so they always had to be on the go. They only stopped for water. Even then, Mitsue would have to call hard-working Hideo in from the field at the end of the day. She’d often have to yell to make him hear her, he was concentrating so hard on what he was doing and, as he always did when he was working, he whispered her name over and over, as if to soothe himself: “Mits … Mits … Mits … Mits …”

  Those summer days hit Wari hard. Her left side just kept getting worse. There was no doctor in Coaldale, so she and Mitsue had to take a day off and go to Lethbridge in Mr. Rutt’s truck. Nobody had an Alberta licence, so a farmhand had to drive them. Lethbridge had banned Japanese people within the city limits, so before they could get to a doctor, Hideo had to go to City Hall and obtain a special permit.

  Wari and Mitsue left with the farmhand early one morning. The old truck had bad shocks and it was a very rough ride. Wari moaned all the way. Every bump was a fresh blow. When they pulled up to the hospital, the farmhand seemed glad to see them leave. Mitsue escorted Wari to the front desk, where they waited for a long time. A dozen people went through before them. Finally, a nurse came out and called them in. It was Mitsue’s second time in a hospital. The Lethbridge hospital was much smaller than the one in Vancouver where Toru had passed away.

  The doctor walked in with his nose in a chart.

  “Name?”

  Mitsue spoke for her mother-in-law

  He looked at Mitsue.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “She has a very sore left side. We are not sure why.”

  “Okay, I’ll give her something for that.”

  And that was it. He didn’t even touch her, just wrote something on his prescription pad, handed it to Mitsue, and was out the door.

  They got the medicine. Mitsue dropped off Wari in their shack and went back to the fields.