The First Noble Truth
Hastings Park brooded on East Hastings Street in the far east side of Vancouver. The grounds housed a racetrack, where confiscated cars were stored temporarily, and the Pacific National Exhibition, an annual provincial fair held in the summer and enjoyed by all. The racetrack’s facilities, a collection of buildings, became a holding centre for Japanese Canadians from outside Vancouver until they could be sent to ghost town internment camps…eventually.
The Pool was the horse pavilions. The cavernous mostly concrete buildings segregated men and women. The Livestock Building’s horse stalls were quickly converted, but not removed, for mothers and their children. There was no privacy, so blankets were hung between stalls. Otherwise, cots in the Horse Show Building were lined up for people to sleep side by side. Open toilets, more like troughs, were set for the “convenience” of the prisoners. The food was meagre at best in the makeshift mess halls, separated by gender. No consideration to the Japanese diet was given. No rice, no shoyu. The place was dusty, crowded, and smelly—the horses left their calling-card, and nothing could be done to get rid of it. The odour was tear-inducing. Various diseases festered and hunted.
Chisato and Sachiko with their babies were summarily dropped into these conditions. Rev. James said his goodbyes as he and Michiko were asked to leave. “Godspeed,” he invoked. Michiko promised to come visit.
“Tell us about your husband,” Chisato said.
Michiko nodded and left.
Inside, Sachiko observed it was like the Immigration Building. Chisato said it was worse as she held her nose and wiped her eyes. It was more concentrated than Sheer Mountain with its abattoir, though it was hard to compare the two. At least, her fetid clothes wouldn’t be noticed. They were assigned adjacent stalls. Small comfort.
Besides the smell, the two were greeted by a chorus of crying. Here and there, Chisato spied mothers convulsing in tears on their cots, some into their straw pillows, others in a seated position, or heard behind hanging blankets. She wondered what was wrong but then decided it was The Pool itself. She felt like crying herself as she held Hideko close to her. She entertained the thought of returning to Hiroshima. Was there anything really keeping her in Canada? She had warm and sad thoughts of the Akamatsu compound, with all its rooms. Even the Whispering Oni Room. She longed for the peace and solitude, the fresh air. Perhaps the authorities would let her leave. They don’t want her, she reasoned. They didn’t want Terumi. Maybe she could get consumption. Can’t be that bad.
One nearby woman was weeping inconsolably, incessantly. Finally, the two women approached her in her stall.
Yaeko Ebisuzaki was a young woman with the palms of her hands over her face. Her hair was tied into a bun, and she wore a plain kimono and zori on her feet. Though she was seated, she appeared small in stature, her feet did not touch the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Chisato asked as gently as she could.
Sachiko grimaced and said, “Are you afraid?”
Yaeko looked up, her soft features contorted with grief, it seemed. Smooth skin distorted by pain.
A neighbour watched from the edge of the stall. “They took her baby away.”
“They did what?”
“They took her baby away,” she repeated.
“But why?”
“She was sick and had to be quarantined.”
“What is quar…?”
“Separated and isolated” was the answer.
Seemed simple enough and Sachiko said so. “Nothing could be done.”
“Don’t be cruel,” Chisato rebuked as she sat next to Yaeko.
“Nonsense, God will provide and protect her baby.”
“How can you say that? Look around you! Why did God put us here? Was He really looking out for us?” Chisato obviously had had enough of the God Talk.
“The Lord delivered me from my husband, and He will deliver me from this place!”
Chisato looked at her incredulously.
“I don’t know God’s plan,” Sachiko continued. “None of us do, but we must maintain our faith. He will deliver us unto the Promised Land. He always has and He always will.”
“Well until He does, we are going to have to take care of ourselves,” Chisato said with finality.
***
Chisato was tired of arguing about God and “His mysterious ways”. She fell silent whenever Sachiko talked to her. Sachiko didn’t seem to mind or even notice. She went about decorating their stall with the one crucifix she had hidden from the authorities and brought from Sheer Mountain. She had scrounged a candle from around the mess hall. Where she found the matches was anyone’s guess.
She placed both on a wooden box she had found, and twice a day, Sachiko kneeled before the makeshift altar, lit the candle, and prayed. She had asked Rev. James for a Bible, but none was forthcoming. Chisato tolerated it all, the candle helped with the smell of the place.
Chisato decided she would hold on to her faith in the Buddha. He taught that we must be grateful for all we have. She was alive, her child was a joy, her future was unknown and somewhat bleak, but she never believed that the Canadian government would do them irreparable harm. Despite the obligation she had to Rev. James and the Christian church, she moved away from the idea that an external and invisible being of enormous power would rescue them. Even if all she had to do was pray.
Besides, there was a present danger that posed a threat in Hastings Park: the spread of disease. Measles, mumps, chicken pox, dysentery, scarlet fever, and other communicable diseases ripped through the dormitories like an Oni Wind.
Sachiko of course believed God would protect her if she prayed for “deliverance from evil”. Chisato was more circumspect. She did everything she could to protect Hideko. She laundered her child’s clothes and diapers everyday. She cleaned and washed the stall as well. She stayed away from anyone she suspected of coming down with something.
She found out that Yaeko’s baby had been taken away because the child was sick with scarlet fever. Chisato assumed she knew where but was not saying; instead, Yaeko’s face had grown pale, and her eyes trembled in fear. The authorities would not let her visit.
Chisato began feeling a weight on her shoulders.
To avoid embarrassment, both women and most others avoided Yaeko, who simply sat on her cot in her stall whimpering most of the time. She could not be consoled anyway.
***
About a month later, Chisato received a notice, in Japanese of all things, that made her laugh. It was another Order-in-Council. The government in its wisdom informed her that all of her and her husband’s property must be surrendered to the Custodian for Enemy Alien Property. It would be well taken care of as a “protective measure”.
“They can have my house for all I care!”
She then thought of her husband’s businesses, though she never knew exactly what he owned. Maybe she could claim them or, at least, the money in the bank once the war was over. She chuckled and tore up the letter.
She later pondered the implications of the order as she made her way from the mess hall. With Hideko in her arms, she suddenly heard a wailing commotion. It was Sachiko screaming and pleading with two uniformed nurses in her stall. As she drew closer, Chisato saw one had grabbed Mary, while the other kept Sachiko at bay. Sachiko struggled against the nurse, desperate to secure her child. She howled at the top of her lungs. Mary’s legs grew red in the nurse’s grip.
Chisato tried to interfere, but with Hideko, she could do little to help. A tall, white doctor in a white coat stood in her way. He said something in the cursed English language. She called out to Sachiko, asking what was happening.
“They’re taking Mary away. Put her into quarantine!” Her voice was ragged, but understandable.
“Why? She’s not sick!”
“They say she is. I told them…I told them God and I can take care of her…but they won’t listen. They won’t let me go with Mary…”
The burly nurse pulled at Mary with must’ve seemed like unfamiliar, large, and rough hands. She kept Sachiko at bay as she strained against the strength of the tormentor, while Mary continued to scream, wail, and squirm to get away. Her face was flushed. She reached pathetically for her mother.
With one final push, the nurse knocked Sachiko to the cot. She let out a groan and gave up as she quivered silently in her sorrow.
Chisato quickly moved to her side and tried to offer comfort. The doctor and nurses stole away with Mary. The child continued to scream for her mother, the sound fading away.
Sachiko immediately fell to her knees beside the bed, clasped her hands in front of her and began praying intensely. Shaking her clasped hands.
Chisato didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Hideko started crying and so had to be soothed.
Once her baby was settled, Chisato immediately went next door to find Yaeko. She would know where the children were.
Yaeko was asleep in her cot, but that didn’t stop Chisato. She grabbed her by the front of her chemise and shook her awake.
“Yaeko-san! Yaeko! Wake up!”
She groaned and cracked open her eyes.
“Yaeko, you’ve got to tell me where they put your baby! Wake up, wake up!”
When she fully came to and understood what was being asked of her, she shook her head and then buried her face in her pillow.
Frustrated, Chisato let her go and told her to watch her child. Yaeko agreed and came to a seated position. Chisato then began wandering the crowded aisles of The Pool asking any if they knew where the sick babies and children were taken. No one knew, so she decided to walk to the hospital area of the building. Seemed like the logical place to find a patient.
It took awhile, but a Japanese orderly finally pointed towards a distant corner of Building A. A former poultry barn was set up as a makeshift hospital with 180 beds. Stray lumps of straw supported about sixty beds. Adjacent to the area was an isolation ward for TB patients.
Were these people to be deported?
Chisato, as luck would have it, met a tall Japanese doctor with a toothy smile. Dr. Uchida kindly directed her to another area of the building,
“You want the quarantine area,” he said in a soothing voice. “For general disease.” He pointed in a direction diagonally opposite the crude facilities. He looked concerned with furrowed brow but wouldn’t say why.
She soon found out. She wasn’t sure what to expect but, once she got to the other side, she found a hole in the floor. Upon closer inspection, she discovered a staircase that led down to a dark basement.
In all good conscience, who would separate mothers and their children, sick or not?
An exhaust of stale and fetid air rushed up from below as if to coat her in slime. Chisato covered her mouth and nose with her hand, before stepping back. Her eyes watered. She wiped them with the sleeve of her other arm. The smell was evil. She hesitated to step on the first step, but she did and then stopped. It was like the blackness licked at her feet, pulling her down into the depths.
She heard a chorus of babies and children calling, weeping, and wailing. Many asking for their mamas. She shook and retreated carefully, stepping back onto the main floor as the sound of steps came rushing up. A woman in a nurse’s uniform materialized as if appearing from behind a curtain. She spoke sharply to her and motioned for her to move away.
Chisato didn’t understand her words, of course, but she obeyed. A nearby inmate told her the doctors keep the very sick children down in the Dungeon, a cramped, pitch-black room with no ventilation, coal dust, and little light. It was normally an underground coal and animal feed storage area. A true Oni Room.
“How long?” she asked.
“Until they’re better or dead,” the woman said ominously. “Usually ten days but some for weeks.”
***
The next night, Sachiko was sick with worry, her strength sapped by it. All she could do was pray since no one listened to her pleas.
After Hideko was sleeping soundly in their shared cot, Chisato sat up and saw that Sachiko was also asleep. The weight on her shoulders had grown noticeably heavier. Sachiko could do nothing to relieve the pressure. She sought peace in dreamless sleep.
Chisato looked at Hideko and wondered what she would do if they came for her. She decided to look for Mary again. She stood up and moved out of the stall. The light was dull but there was enough to be able to find her way.
She soon enough came to the hole in the floor, a gaping grave. She took a deep breath and stepped down the steps. They creaked. She bent down and felt for the running board of the staircase. Her other hand touched the wooden wall beside the staircase; there was no handrail.
As she made her way down in a crouch, the darkness poured into her eyes, blinding her. She slowly sank into the blackness like wading into an inhospitable ocean.
At the bottom of the stairs, she noticed there was a dull light source coming from somewhere. A small opening for an ancient coal chute; there were no windows. Some light came down the staircase offering hope for escape, but no patient moved.
Chisato sensed the small size of the room. She could barely make out the large number of beds all crammed together. She felt the enormity of the situation. The place was hardly silent with soothing sleep. Coughing, crying, and desperation reigned.
No nurse was on duty; in fact, no one was, not even guards. She perceived older girls moving about taking care of or comforting the younger children; they coughed steadily and loudly as they did so. Everyone wallowed in their illness; no medical staff was present.
Chisato started to whisper in a soft but hoarse voice, “Mari-chan. Mariko.” Then she remembered. She said as best as she could, “Mary.” She repeated the name as she felt her way among the beds.
Some children asked, “Okaachan?”
“No, dear child.”
“Please take me to her. Please. Take me out of here.”
An older girl lying with a baby asked, “Have you come to take us out?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“I can’t take care of all of these babies by myself. They need their mothers.”
“Why are you caring for them?”
“Who else is there?” The girl began sobbing.
Chisato lifted her hand to caress the teenager’s hair.
At that moment, a phalanx of light beams pierced the darkness from upstairs. Several footsteps rushed down the steps. Voices called out as the children sat up, some startled, and began to cry.
Chisato froze as hands grabbed her and began dragging her out of the Dungeon. She protested in vain. “Stop! Stop! I’m looking for Mary, Mary Jikemura. You must let me find her!” Her words were in Japanese of course and the anonymous staff couldn’t understand a word.
The next thing Chisato knew, she was sitting in some office with a Canadian man in a suit and tie sitting behind a desk in front of her. Two others were there, a nurse and a Nisei, a kind looking woman with a round face and sympathetic eyes, the interpreter no doubt.
The gaijin looked tired, but he stared at her intensely. “What were you doing down in the quarantine room? Don’t you know that you’re not allowed in there in case you catch something and take it back to the general population. You could infect everyone!”
“I was looking for Mary Jikemura,” she said through Sachi Tokunaga, the Nisei interpreter. “To see if she was all right.”
“Are you her mother?”
“No…I’m a friend. My name is Chisato Kimura.”
“Why didn’t the mother come with you?”
“She’s in no condition to do so. She may be sick herself. Sick with worry, for sure.”
“Well,” he said conclusively, “I have some bad news for you and the mother.”
Chisato didn’t like the sound of that.
“Mary Jik…Jik… your friend’s daughter died earlier today. She was taken out to be ‘dealt with’.”
The news hit Chisato hard. She gasped and held her throat. The weight crushed her body as she thought about Hideko and felt the guilt of fate.
“How…how?” was all she could muster.
“Doctor’s report says she died of…” He shuffled some papers in front of him until he found the page he was looking for. “…pain.”
***
Chisato with Sachi accompanying her walked back to her stall. They found Sachiko on her knees again in front of her altar, the candle unlit, praying and whispering, “Oh Lord, how could you forsake me? How could you?” Someone had obviously told her, and she reacted with prayer.
“Jesus will save her. He will save me.”
You bokenasu. You damn fool. What did your lord do to save your child? To deliver you from evil? You damn fool. Her thoughts kindled with anger inside her.
A neighbour said the authorities wouldn’t allow Sachiko to see her daughter. There was no funeral, no last rites. The Reverend James had not come to comfort her. She was Christ on the cross.
Sachi Tokunaga turned and left without saying a word.
Chisato ignored her stall-mate, brought Hideko closer to her and fell asleep. Her lingering thoughts drifted to the Buddha. A few hours later, something woke her. She looked over to Sachiko and saw that she was slumped with her head on the cot, her arms and hands fallen to the floor, her legs collapsed underneath her body. Her face was awash in the salted remnants of tears. She was mercifully asleep.
Chisato gazed into the dull night. Thoughts raced around her brain when disparate parts of the darkness started to gather. She watched in awe as the shadows formed into a figure—no distinct features, just a mass of black air. It soon expanded and drifted to float over her.
She was immobile. She gazed at it in wonderment lying on her back. And in the next moment, she whispered, “Otousan.”