Sachi
April 8, 1942
Murmuring. It soothed her like a lullaby. The scent of cedar beside her. But why did her arms hurt? A loud hiss. Where was she? Her body jerked forward and she opened her eyes. The light—too bright.
An unfamiliar voice: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tanforan.”
She rubbed her eyes and looked around. They had arrived. But she was too sleepy to wake yet. She closed her eyes again and leaned against her mother’s arm. Just a little while longer.
Mama shook her. “Wake up. It’s time to get off the bus.”
“But I’m so tired. I don’t want to wake up yet,” she whined. “Can’t I sleep a little bit longer?”
Nobu mussed her hair. “Come on, Sach. Listen to Mama. Here, take your suitcase.”
As the bus rocked back and forth with the movement of everyone trying to get their bags at once, a man boarded the bus. “Ladies and gentlemen. Please. Please! Be seated. There has been a change of plans. Please remain in your seats until you are notified further.”
Nobu threw his suitcase onto his seat. “What the—”
But Sachi was happy they didn’t have to get off the bus yet. At least she could go back to sleep for a while.
How long had she been sleeping when another loud voice woke her?
“Please remain seated. You will not be staying. This bus will be going on to Santa Anita Assembly Center.”
The stuffy bus exploded with complaints and questions. Several men raised their hands, trying to get the attention of the speaker.
“I’m sorry. No time to take questions. You should arrive at Santa Anita by midnight.”
The sky turned pink, then purple and black. Sachi’s stomach growled as she stared out the bus window. Funny how signs and houses on the ground passed by so quickly, yet the stars in the sky hardly seemed to move at all. Everything was boring. Nothing to do. And she was hungry. When would they get there? She closed her eyes and fell asleep again.
The bus stopped and the sudden silence woke her. She looked outside the window, wondering where they were. Was it Santa Anita? It was dark outside. The only light came from guard towers and inside the buildings. An armed guard walked toward the bus. When he boarded, she decided they must have arrived.
“Attention, please,” he called from the front. “Please proceed to the building on the left for your apartment assignments and orientation packets.”
Nobu hissed. “Yeah, right. Apartment assignments. This is a horse track, right?”
Mama stood and turned around. “Nobu!”
The line of people getting off the bus moved faster than the one getting on. Sachi could understand why everyone seemed to be in such a rush. They probably had to use the bathroom as badly as she did.
She followed Mama and stepped down the bus’s big steps. Outside, she breathed in fresh air while being swept along in a line that moved so quickly she feared she’d be run over.
They were surrounded by more uniformed men with guns and once again, she began to talk to herself. She’d been doing a lot of that lately.
Would they really shoot us? Sure they would. Why else would they carry guns? And what about that wire fence around the whole area? Not just any wire fence, either. Did you see the sharp-looking points sticking out every few inches? Do they think we’ll try to escape? They must. But escape from what?
Questions popped into her head faster than she could come up with answers. It reminded her of how she felt when she watched a scary movie, always afraid of what would come next. Only, this wasn’t a movie.
Find something good.
Horse stalls! How could she forget about the horses? With the size of this place there had to be at least a hundred of them. She giggled. Don’t be so silly. That fence is for the horses, not the Japanese!
The line came to a stop outside a building where the sign read “Administration.” She was tired of being in lines. Start, stop. Pick up your suitcases, put them down. What’s around the corner? What are they going to tell us to do next? All she wanted to know was where they would live next.
Then she could look for the horses.
Nobu dropped his suitcases onto the ground near the administration building. “Mama, you and Sachi wait out here. I’ll go inside.”
Mama sat on her suitcase. “Sit down, Sachiko. Rest.”
She reluctantly complied with her mother’s request. All she could do from her suitcase seat was watch people, which she really didn’t want to do, because it made her think of things she didn’t want to think about. In the dim light cast from the administration building, all the adults’ faces had a kind of sadness she hadn’t seen before, at least not on so many of them at once. Lost. Misplaced. Yes, that’s what it was, they looked misplaced. Still, if she looked deep into their eyes, she recognized pride—trapped there, and hardly noticeable once her gaze panned out to the rest of their sad faces.
She had seen that look before. On Papa’s face the day he was fired from the bank.
And in his eyes, when those boys called him names that day in the park.
She studied the faces again. Japanese faces. But they are Americans. So why were they all sitting on suitcases, surrounded by men who carried guns? Fenced in by prickly wire that she knew in her heart was not for the horses.
It still caught her by surprise sometimes, when a hunger for comfort drew her to look for Papa. The path to his arms had been well-worn—the only path she’d known. When he was alive, somehow he always made her believe everything would be okay.
She rested her head on her knees and watched her tears fall to the dirt. Each droplet made a tiny mud ball that disappeared into the ground next to her dusty, patent-leather shoes.
“Ready to go?” Nobu waved a piece of paper in the air and held a flashlight in his other hand. “I have a map that will take us to our … apartment.”
Sachi wiped her face and looked up.
He picked up his suitcases. “Follow me.”
They walked past rows and rows of horse stalls. Sachi slowed between each pair of buildings, trying to catch a glimpse of a horse that might peek out its head in the ricochet of Nobu's flashlight. Nothing. But hay was scattered all over the place. Surely there must be horses somewhere.
After what seemed like a long walk from the administration building, Nobu turned left down a row of stalls. He shined a light on the map, then up at the stall numbers, stopping in front of one. “This is it,” he said, opening the door and walking inside. He pulled on a string that hung from a light on the ceiling.
Sachi glanced up at Mama. “A horse stall? I thought they said ‘apartment.’ If we’re going to live here, where will the horses live?”