Islands of Protest

by Davinder L. Bhowmik

  MAN: I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

  TRAINER: What?

  MAN: I spit everything up one time. When you’re really terrified, you just spit up everything. Everyone is the same. When you see something too frightening, it makes you just throw up. You may not have had a bite to eat for the whole day, but everything in your stomach comes up all the same.

  TRAINER: Listen, when I ordered you to spit it up, that was not what I had in mind.…

  MAN (he shows his hands): A parent bashes in his kid’s brains with a thick, wooden stick. Over and over again, he just keeps smacking him with the stick, … and when the stick falls out of his hand, I picked it up and started to kill, too.

  TRAINER: What?

  MAN: It was like a sea of blood. Even the waters of the river turned deep red.… People used whatever was around to kill each other, wooden sticks, hoes, and sickles. Young kids killed the old, parents killed their own children, some even cut their own throats with razors, and, if they didn’t succeed at first, they begged someone else to finish them off: “Please kill me, kill me.”

  TRAINER:

  MAN: The hand grenades that the friendly forces21 gave us to kill ourselves were too wet and rusty because of the heavy rains, so they didn’t go off. But that even made things worse. Here and there, people formed into small groups, and families and close relatives started to kill one another. Those who didn’t have any weapon just used their bare hands to strangle their neighbors.

  We were all terrified. The worst thing that could happen was to survive, to be the last one alive after these horrors ended.

  TRAINER: That’s enough out of you! I’ve had enough of your talk.

  MAN: A woman who cut her neck with a sickle was all smeared with blood, but she just wouldn’t die. She grabbed hold of my hands and didn’t let go. Her throat was already half cut, so her voice didn’t come out anymore.… All the same, she kept begging me in despair, “Please kill me.”

  TRAINER: I told you I’ve had enough of this talk.

  MAN: On one island, more than thirty people died in battles, but more than four hundred took their own lives in mass suicides. Because of that …

  TRAINER: Shut up! Stop it. Another word out of you and you’ll never walk out of this place alive.

  (The woman stands under a spotlight.)

  WOMAN: I have no idea what trick they used, but we kept going deeper into debt no matter how hard we worked. Every month, they deducted a charge for clothing and a charge for makeup; why, they even took something out for toilet paper. Because they kept deducting for this and that, there was practically nothing left in the end. Because of that, we never had enough money saved to pay back our debts, no matter how long we stayed. If we took a day off work because we were sick, we had to pay a fine. Five dollars or ten dollars, even when we were really sick. Besides that, we had to pay for the medicine and the doctor’s visit: nothing was free. And on top of everything else, they deducted a fine.

  TRAINER: I told you to shut up!

  WOMAN: The soldiers returning from Vietnam were completely wasted. What’s more, a lot of them were perverts.

  One of them murdered a friend of mine. He strangled her and then left her completely naked in bed. That’s how she died. It was so pitiful. I was next door with a customer while it was going on, but I didn’t realize what was happening. That soldier had a filthy mouth and kept screaming, “Die!” or “I am gonna kill you.” But I couldn’t believe he really meant it. I thought he had to be kidding. But this time he really killed her.

  TRAINER: Didn’t you hear me when I told you to shut up?

  (He knocks her down. After that, the man appears in a different corner of the stage.)

  MAN: We were taught, “You guys are all Japanese.” We were told, “As Japanese, you must have true spirit to defend our country.” We were determined to fight side by side with our comrades in the Japanese army to the bitter end. But when the war started to go badly for them, these friendly forces started to show their true colors. They fled from one shelter to another. They would drive civilians out of their shelters, rob them of food and liquor, and then hold drinking parties. They would say, “Every last one of those Okinawans is a bloody American spy.” To teach us a lesson we wouldn’t forget, they killed a young girl and exposed her body in public. They even executed a deaf-mute man they suspected of spying because he couldn’t answer their questions.

  WOMAN: Every month, when payday arrived, the soldiers would crowd the streets. Then it was just terrible. They just poured into the red-light district and lined up outside our brothel, each man just waiting for his chance. It was during the Vietnam War boom.

  The money? Why it just flooded in and had to be stored in plastic buckets. The safe in the shop was too small and couldn’t hold all of it. But for us, it was a really terrible time. We were kept working for the customers around the clock, and we could barely stand up afterwards.

  MAN: The soldiers of the friendly forces even murdered the principal of the national school at Motobu. He went to a military base carrying a photo of the emperor that he had rescued from the flames of war. He wanted to store this photo of his majesty in a safe place, but he got murdered in the end. I can’t help thinking that he should have just burned the damned photo and thrown it away.

  WOMAN: Even if they were soldiers, they were a like a bunch of snot-nosed kids. Some of them were really to be pitied, particularly the black ones. None of the girls wanted to go with them. Some of them even wept and cried, “Mommy, mommy.” Just like little boys.

  MAN: The American and British devils weren’t our only enemies. We couldn’t let our guard down with the friendly forces either.

  Or, to be perfectly frank, the friendly forces were our worst enemies.

  (All of a sudden, the sound of a fighter jet can be heard. The axis of the earth seems to tilt.

  The man and woman crouch down in terror. Then, from out of nowhere, a dirge-like rhythm played on a drum can be heard. The man and woman begin to sing and dance as though they were controlled by the sound of the drum.)

  Chondaraa

  A remuneration of ten thousand bushels, a remuneration of ten thousand bushels

  Ten thousand, one bushel, one peck, one gallon, one quart, down to one pint

  By the tip of my ear, I have come to claim my share

  What you grant me I graciously receive

  This is what you grant, what you grant

  Look at the bird nailed to the post

  Look at the bird nailed to the post

  Look at the bird nailed to the post

  After ten years, sixteen rolls of fine cloth

  After nine years, six acres of land

  As for treasures, piles of gold and silver

  For the most skillful one of all

  Oh, I have forgotten the rest, I have forgotten the rest

  Look at the bird nailed to the post

  From the Tang dynasty China to Japan, from Japan to America,

  From America right back to Japan.

  On the fourth day

  The nightjar, that streetwalker,

  Loiters under the pine tree

  Under its wings, there is aashitamaa, tooichima22

  In spite of this, in spite of this

  It has gotten what it wants

  Look at the bird nailed to the post

  Look at the bird nailed to the post

  Look at the bird nailed to the post23

  (Trainer appears on stage.)

  TRAINER: Today I’m delighted to welcome you to our mental hospital. Our hospital boasts the most advanced facilities and the best staff of any hospital in East Asia. Today it has become a Mecca for doctors all over Japan. We treat a very large number of patients who come all the way from Hokkaido in the north to Kyushu and Okinawa in the south. We have a wide variety of patients, each one adding a touch of local color to the rich palette of our institution and all together producing a splendid assortment of mental illnesses. As you are no d
oubt aware, mental patients are considered to be deviants in society, a danger to peaceful everyday life, and potential criminals. However, we must not regard them as enemies or treat them with contempt. They’re just as human as you or I. They’re simply people afflicted with an illness. They’re remnants of a defeated army who have lost their defenses and had their protecting buffers removed. What they need is neither to be discriminated against nor to be overly protected: they need real help to recover their human dignity. They keep asking us to help them recover their true Japanese spirit. Please look at them carefully. This is the Okinawa Pavilion Gallery. In terms of incidence of mental illness, Okinawa prides itself on being first in Japan. It also has the fewest facilities to house its mental patients.

  Why does Okinawa have so many mental patients? The reason is that the people there have suffered deeply at the turning points of their history, and their psyches bear deep scars, scars that have penetrated to the core of their being.

  (Pointing to the man) This man is a typical mental case. He suffers from severe depressive psychosis.

  (Pointing to the woman) This woman has paranoid delusions. She is also a nymphomaniac. She has persistent delusions that someone is about to rape her.

  Both of them bear the scars of postwar traumatic stress. Their fragile mental equilibrium has been upset because of the awful experiences they underwent during the war and the vivid horrors that they witnessed. These experiences have driven them to a nervous breakdown.

  As a Japanese prime minister once put it, “Japan’s postwar period won’t end until Okinawa is returned to the fatherland.”24 But for these patients, it isn’t just the postwar period that has not ended; rather, it’s the war that continues to be fought within their minds.

  (There is a sudden, deafening explosion. The man and woman run away; the trainer instinctively drops to his knees to take cover.)

  TRAINER: … Shit! They’re at it again. (He stands up and addresses the audience.) No need to lose your cool, ladies and gentlemen. Please stay calm and relax. There’s no cause for alarm. Everything will be all right. One of those American soldiers back from Vietnam is just playing a bad joke on us. He’s just letting off steam.

  This sort of thing happens here all the time. They raise a real ruckus sometimes. I know they mean well and are simply used to life on the battlefield all the time. They just like to have a good time and are quite likeable. Of course, if it were simply a matter of setting off fireworks from time to time, it would be no problem at all. It might frighten us out of our wits, but in the end, no one would get hurt. But some of them are real bastards, who think nothing of tossing smoke bombs or tear-gas canisters into a crowd. Some even hurl live grenades right at you as if they’re on a real battlefield. What chaos!

  Well then … What was I saying a moment ago? Oh, yes, I was talking about the war. [He draws a deep breath.] Yes, even now, it makes my heart race faster just to think of that time.

  As for mental patients who are still suffering from the aftereffects of the war, how can we put an end to the storm of war that rages in their brains? This is the most important problem that we face today. In my opinion, there will be no end to Japan’s Greater East Asian War unless we manage to reintegrate them into our society.

  (Again a loud explosion is heard, and a part of the set is destroyed. Smoke rises into the air. The trainer screams and runs away. Another explosion off in the distance. After a short while, the woman runs onstage and stops as though she were about to lose her footing.)

  WOMAN: I’ve come from the Princess Lily Student Nurse Corps.25 Commander, I’ve come to prepare your meal now; so please show me where you keep the charcoal, and I’ll build a fire.

  TRAINER (appears with a cigarette hanging from his mouth): What?

  WOMAN: I’m on kitchen duty today. I’ll cook your meal now, so please give me some charcoal to build a fire.

  TRAINER: Let me get this straight: you want me to help you start a fire. (He looks the woman’s body up and down.) Oh, you mean charcoal. (He stubs out his cigarette.) There isn’t any … charcoal here. We’re all out of it, but I can light your fire in some other way. How’d you like a baby?

  WOMAN: … What?

  TRAINER: I said I’ll make you a baby. (He jumps on top of her.)

  WOMAN (resisting him): I don’t want a baby. Leave me alone.

  TRAINER: No need to stand on ceremony! I’m offering you my seed, so it’s gonna be a hell of a kid. He’ll have the pure blood of a Japanese soldier in his veins. You should be thanking me.

  WOMAN: Stop! I beg you to stop!

  (As they continue to struggle, the man suddenly rushes into the room.)

  MAN: Commander! I’m from the Blood and Iron Corps in service to the emperor.26 We’re just about to launch a fierce attack on the enemy.

  TRAINER: Good. (The man starts to walk away.) Wait a minute.

  (He takes a pack of cigarette from his pocket and offers one to the man.)

  MAN: It’s nice of you to offer me one, sir, but I don’t smoke.

  TRAINER: Idiot! This is not just any cigarette. You’d better watch your step. With all due respect, this is an imperial cigarette, a gift from the emperor to his troops fighting at the front. Accept it with gratitude.

  MAN: Okay. I will gratefully accept one.

  (The man accepts it with a show of deference, and the trainer offers him a light. As soon as he takes a puff, he coughs and starts to choke from the smoke.)

  TRAINER: Pretty good, isn’t it?

  MAN: It brings tears to my eyes. It tastes great.

  TRAINER: Spoken like a true Japanese soldier. Without a second thought, he bravely stares death in the face. I’ll come along right after you. See you again at Yasukuni Shrine.27

  MAN: All right, please excuse me for leaving first.

  (The man leaves. The trainer returns to forcing himself on the woman, who continues to resist his advances.)

  TRAINER: You bitch. How dare you disobey the orders of a soldier of the imperial army! You’d better do as I say. After all, this is also an order of his most august imperial majesty.

  WOMAN: What an abuse of power!

  TRAINER: Oh, shut up! We’re fighting and risking our lives to protect your homeland. It is only natural that we have the right to indulge in a few pleasures.

  WOMAN: We’re also risking our lives in this war. We members of the women’s volunteer corps are doing our utmost, and in no way are we inferior to you soldiers.…

  TRAINER: There’s no point in all this talk.

  MAN (saluting): Commander of the joint forces. I’m from the Homeland Defense Corps, sir.28

  COMMANDER: (saluting): Right.

  MAN: The Homeland Defense Corps will launch an assault on the enemies surrounding us on all sides and break though their lines and then counterattack them from the rear tonight at exactly zero hours.

  TRAINER: Good! (The man is about to leave.) Wait a while and listen up, will you? Our unit is going to head toward the northern front tomorrow in the morning. We have been fighting pitched battles day and night and are completely exhausted. We can no longer take care of the defense forces. From now on, every man for himself. Do you understand?

  MAN:

  TRAINER: What’s the matter? Are you dimwitted or something? What I mean is that you don’t have to come and report to me every time that you go off to fight. Do you get it?

  MAN: (He bites his lips with resentment, but then he says) I understand.

  (He starts to leave.)

  TRAINER: Wait a moment. Be careful!

  (The man feels paralyzed as though he has been bound hand and foot. The trainer proceeds to subject him to slow and methodical torture.)

  TRAINER: Are you really a member of the Homeland Defense Corps?

  MAN: What?

  TRAINER: Don’t talk back, and just answer my questions! Don’t you understand what I am saying to you? What’s your name?

  MAN (extremely nervous): Uh … yes. I—I’m with the Home, Home … Defense
Corps, its … its Corps …

  TRAINER: What?

  MAN: Yes, I’m from the Home … Home Defense Corps …

  TRAINER: You mean the Home … land Defense Corps!

  MAN: The Motoi home … home … home …

  TRAINER: Are you really a Japanese?

  MAN: Yes, I’m a real Japanese.

  TRAINER: In that case, repeat after me: “Long live the emperor, banzai.”

  MAN (more and more nervous): L … long

  TRAINER: What’s the matter?

  MAN (as though he is forcing it out): Long live the emperor, banjaii!

  TRAINER: It is not banjaii; say banzai!

  MAN: Ban … jaii!

  TRAINER: Zai!

  MAN: Ban …

  TRAINER: Zai!

  MAN:

  TRAINER: Zai! … Zai! … Za

  (Furious, he pushes the man to the floor.)

  TRAINER: There sure is something fishy about you. Are you a spy?

  MAN (confused): No, I’m not a spy. I’m from the Home … Defense Corps.

  TRAINER: No, you are a spy.

  MAN: I’m definitely not a spy. I am … Motoi … I’m …

  TRAINER: Shut up! You’re a spy who came here to gather information. If I let you leave this shelter alive, we’ll be shelled from every side almost as soon as you walk out. I have seen military shelters totally destroyed by enemy fire any number of times, so I know all about guys like you.

  MAN: I’m definitely not …

  TRAINER: I told you to keep your mouth shut. (He draws his sword.) Since it’s come to this point, I won’t allow you leave this place alive.

  MAN (trembling with terror): Help me! I’m not a spy at all. I’m only a man of few words.

  TRAINER: Not another word out of you.

  (He unsheathes his sword and brandishes it over the man’s head. The man backs away from him.)

  MAN: (desperately struggling to save his life): L-l-l-long live the emperor, banjaii!

  TRAINER: I execute you in the name of his majesty, the emperor of Japan.

  (He stabs him.29 The man falls backward to the ground. The woman, who witnessed this scene, screams and runs toward the man. She grabs hold of him and weeps.)

  WOMAN: That was horrible! How could you commit such a crime! This is too much! To kill an innocent man! That man wasn’t a spy at all. He was my husband! How could my husband possibly be a spy? Why’d you have to kill him?