by Jan Morrill
“Yes,” Mama said, pulling at her gloves. “At least we will have a car when we return.”
Nobu shuffled his feet, looking fidgety. “This line hasn’t moved at all. Why did we have to come so early?”
Something tickled Sachi’s stomach when she saw Mama’s lips press so tightly the pink turned pale. She shot a warning look at her brother. Papa is not here, and you are the man of the house now. You better behave yourself! Mama wasn’t in the mood to deal with his attitude this morning.
“I wanted to beat the crowd,” Mama replied, barely above a whisper.
“The crowd, huh? Guess we didn’t do that,” he said, looking ahead, then behind. “Just how many Japanese do you suppose they’re rounding up, anyway?”
Sachi glared at him. Why was he being so mean? She tried to get him to stop, kicking his foot to get his attention, even as she wondered, too. How many Japanese could there be and what were they going to do with all of them?
At last the line moved, slowly, like a huge caterpillar. Each dull coat inched forward, and murmurs drifted through the once-quiet line. Children whined and cried and their mamas said, “Shhh!”
Inside, the room smelled like cigarettes, and Sachi saw smoke rising from ashtrays on eight gray metal desks lined up against a yellowed wall on the far side of the room. Signs with the alphabet hung above each one. Every once in a while an official-looking Caucasian sitting behind the desk took a long drag and blew smoke into the air.
Her family approached the desk that was beneath the sign that read Last Names Beginning with I-K.
The woman who sat there seemed nice enough. She smiled as she asked questions: How many in your family? How many suitcases did you bring? Do you have property to store? Do you have your immunization records? She stamped forms so hard Sachi blinked each time she pounded. First the ink pad. Bang! Then the piece of paper with Family No. 13754 on it. Bang!
Mrs. Lady-Behind-the-Desk made sure all of their tags were in place before pointing to the rear of the crowded room. “Please go out that back door and wait for the bus that will take you to the temporary assembly center at Tanforan.”
“You mean the racetrack?” Mama asked.
“Yes. You’ll stay there until it’s been decided where you’ll be moved next.” Now the lady didn’t sound so nice. “Please, move on to the waiting area so I can process the next family.”
“Process?” asked Nobu. “You mean like cattle?”
Mama moved close to him and tugged on his jacket. “Shh! Let’s go!”
Process. The word hadn’t bothered Sachi so much. She was already thinking about what it would be like living at a racetrack. She loved horses, and maybe they would let her ride one. This might be an adventure after all.
They sat on their suitcases in the crowded parking lot and waited, surrounded by the smell of diesel and the rumble of idling buses. Sachi watched the monsters swallow the lines of Japanese, one by one. Then, bellies full, each pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared around the corner.
Which one would swallow her family?
She’d never ridden on a bus before and wasn’t sure if the tickle in her stomach was nerves or excitement. All she knew was her hand was getting numb from Mama holding it so tight.
Forever. That’s how long they’d been sitting on those suitcases. Sachi looked around at the hundreds of people and wondered how many of their backsides were as sore as hers.
Then she noticed. So many women, sitting in little mini-forts stacked with what was left of their belongings. With stern eyes and pointed fingers, they told their children to sit still, and they would obey, for a little while. But if Sachi watched long enough, she would notice pulses of energy escape in bursts, before their mamas would again point their fingers and snap at the suitcase where they should sit still. She knew how that felt.
But where were all the men? Why would so many families be missing their papas, too?
“Family number 13754?” A voice called from across the parking lot.
Mama looked down at the tag that hung from her coat. Sachi looked at hers, too.
“That’s us,” Nobu said, rising from the suitcase. “That must be our bus.”
Sachi followed her brother, wishing she had a free hand to hold onto his jacket. But Mama held one hand, and in Sachi’s other was a suitcase that was way too heavy. They walked by men in khaki uniforms, so tall they blocked the sun and cast long, dark shadows. Though curious, she was afraid to look at their rifles for too long. Some of the men seemed to sneer at her as she passed by, and it made her heart beat hard, as if trying to break free from something that clutched it as tightly as Mama grasped her hand.
When they reached the folded doors at the front of the bus, the rumble of the engine vibrated inside her, and the diesel smell made her queasy feeling worse. The first step into the bus was so high she could hardly lift her leg to reach it. When she did, the suitcase she carried made it hard to pull herself up.
As if he read her mind, Nobu turned around and whispered, “You sit next to Mama. I’ll sit behind you.”
He could be grouchy sometimes, and it made her mad, especially when he was mean to Mama. But every once in a while, he did something that made her think he was the best brother in the world.
He grabbed her suitcase and placed it above a row of empty seats. “Sachi, you sit there, next to the window.” Next he took his mother’s luggage. “Mama, you sit here next to Sachi.”
Mama plopped down in the aisle seat and exhaled. She stared ahead, the look in her eyes sad and very far away.
Sachi laid her head against Mama’s arm. Though she’d meant to comfort her mother, for a tiny moment, she felt a familiar calm of her own when she caught the scent of cedar in Papa’s coat that Mama wore. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to hold on to Papa’s scent. She missed how he would have put his arm around her and pulled her toward him. And as fast as it had come, the comfort was gone, quick as the hummingbird she’d seen near the porch when they left that morning.
The bus doors closed with a loud hiss and Sachi stood to see the front of the bus. A man in a khaki uniform sat in the driver’s seat. He shuffled around, flipping a switch here and a lever there.
Mama tugged on Sachi’s coat. “Sit down.”
“I think we’re getting ready to go,” Sachi whispered. The knot in her stomach began to throb again.
The engine rumbled louder. When the bus jerked forward, Mama grabbed the seat in front of her. Her eyes widened.
The look frightened Sachi, but she placed her hand on Mama’s arm. “It’ll be okay,” she said, trying to reassure her mother. As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, she watched the people standing in line get smaller and smaller. Her heart became heavy with a longing to hear someone say those words to her.
It’ll be okay.
Chapter 22
Nobu
April 7, 1942
Nobu exhaled, his heart still beating hard after seating Mama and Sachi and getting their bags loaded. He had been afraid he wouldn’t find room for everything. Shoving and pushing at one point, he’d even elbowed a man to get him to move his suitcase so he could squeeze the last one onto the shelf above them.
All morning, anxiety and uncertainty had been unwanted companions. He’d been swept along in a river of lost Japanese who rushed to wherever directed, until the river dumped him in the seat on the bus. Now, as it rumbled past a line of armed guards and onto the street, the current had slowed, and he sat in strained silence with dozens of other Japanese that drifted down the same stream, wondering where it would ultimately take them.
He watched Mama and Sachi in the row ahead of him. Mama faced ahead, with no traceable movement, while Sachi rested against Mama’s arm.
It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even noon yet, so the humming vibration of the engine and the rocking motion of the bus lulled him into sleepiness. But there was no place for him to rest his head.
He reached into his coat and pulled out his journa
l.
April 7, 1942
I’m sitting on a bus headed for Tanforan Race Track. Imagine. A race track will be our home for who knows how long. Nagare no tabi. A stream’s journey. I have no control over where it will take me.
I ask myself, “How can they do this to us?” Then I ask myself, “How can we let them do this to us?” Aren’t we American citizens? Don’t we have rights?
Mama and Sachi are sitting in front of me. Mama stares straight ahead. Sachi is asleep, worn out from getting up so early this morning.
Strange, that I want to protect them, yet at the same time, feel burdened by them. Especially by Mama. By her Issei generation. First generation. Their rules. Their pride. Their loyalty to a country that won’t even allow them to become citizens!
If it weren’t for Mama, I would speak up to these people who came into our homes, looking for things to confiscate—contraband they called it! Who were they to tell us we couldn’t go out at night in our own country—the place where we were born! We complied with all of their rules, and still, they made us sell everything, move out of our houses. Now they are sending us to Tanforan, to remove us from a place they now call a military zone. Hell, it was no military zone. It was our home.
But to save face for Mama, for the family, for the entire race, I keep my mouth shut. We must do nothing to impede the war effort, Mama says. So we comply with the laws against the Japanese, even those who are Americans themselves.
Saving face. It has always meant that we are proud and must maintain our dignity. But instead, I feel ashamed. We have allowed ourselves to be treated like a herd of animals, directed by men with rifles. To show we are loyal Americans, we have become less than human, and we hide our faces.
Okay, I am afraid, but not of the Caucasians—the hakujins! No, I am afraid of myself. How long can I swallow my dignity to appear dignified? How long can I comply with Mama’s wishes to accept the way we are treated?
Like the noise of this bus, it all rumbles inside me. And it’s taking me to Tanforan Racetrack. How long can I keep it inside? How long?
Chapter 23
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 fa
ce 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?”
Chapter 24
Nobu
April 8, 1942
Nobu ran out—past Mama and Sachi, down the row of horse-stall barracks.
Mama called after him. “Nobu! Where are you going?”
He didn’t stop, but yelled back to his mother and sister. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll be back later.”
He had to get away. Run. Run away from that smelly stall. From the look in Mama’s eyes.
He collapsed behind one of the buildings and watched other families tentatively approach their new homes as he held his flashlight and wrote in his journal. They stood at the doorways and stared before walking inside. He listened to whimpers that drifted between the rows, and wondered if one of those cries came from his own mother. Guilt tensed in his shoulders as he held the flashlight to write in his journal.
April 8, 1942 (continued)
Santa Anita! Horse stalls. All three of us will live in a horse stall that is smaller than my bedroom at home.
Each blindfolded step we are led on this path, I think it can’t get any worse. But with every step, it does.
They call them apartments, but they have given us goddamn horse stalls to live in. The smell! Stains of horse piss and shit in the dirt floors. It’s dark—only one bulb hangs in the center. And bed? Ha! The mattresses are wool blankets, sewn together and stuffed with hay.