by Joy Kogawa
Our hut is even smaller than the one in Slocan. There's just one room. Out of one window we can see the huge farm machines. They look like skeletons of dinosaurs. From the other window we can see the straight road with the ditch beside it.
Obasan puts rags and newspapers around the bottom of the door and the windows. She's trying to keep out the dust and the flies. But they keep coming in anyway. In summer the windows are covered with them. The horrible flies walk on your arms with their sticky hairy feet. They stick in your hair and land in your food. Ugh! Why don't they just go away?
We don't have a bathhouse here. Our bath is a round tub. Getting water is such hard work, especially in winter. We put on our boots and coats, and out we go with our buckets. The hole always gets frozen over and Uncle has to chop it open with a long-handled axe. I can hardly lift the heavy pails. The water sometimes spills down my boots and my feet get itchy and bumpy and red.
After we all take our baths, Obasan washes the clothes in the same water. They hang outside in the icy wind, stiff as cardboard. It's so cold your face stings and your eyelids freeze.
I hate it here. I hate it so much that I want to run away. So does Stephen.
"Why can't we go away?" I ask Uncle. "Even if we can't go back to our first house, can't we go back to Slocan?"
"Someday. Maybe someday," Uncle says. But "someday" never comes.
In the spring we have to work, work, work. The field stretches on forever and is full of rows of plants. All day long we hoe the weeds. It gets so hot it feels like an oven. We're gingerbread cookies baking to bits.
Sometimes I get sick from the heat and lie down in the dirt. Then Uncle comes running across the field. He carries me to the root cellar or to the ditch water. The root cellar is cool, but the rotten potatoes smell horrible. I'd rather sit under the bridge in the muddy water.
"Careful," Uncle says as he helps me into the brown water. The thistles growing on the ditch bank sting your feet.
The school in Granton is different from the one in Slocan. Most of the children don't have black hair like Stephen and me. And they don't have to stay home to work like us either. Only the children like Stephen and me have to work. The teachers send us our homework to do at night.
In harvest time, Obasan wraps rags around all our wrists. She says it helps to lift the heavy beets. But I don't like the rags. I don't like us looking dirty and ragged and ugly in the dusty field. I have to wear Stephen's old clothes. None of my dresses and skirts fit anymore and I don't have pretty clothes. For school, Obasan fixes her old dresses to fit me. But they don't fit. She says they are beautiful silk. But I hate them. I want store-bought dresses like the other girls.
I write long letters to Daddy in the hospital. He can't come to be with us, Stephen says, until the doctor says he can work. Daddy always sends music to Stephen.
Stephen saves Daddy's sheets of music and ties them all together with shoelaces. One evening he's finally finished helping Uncle with the irrigating job. He takes out all Daddy's music and kneels to get the flute from under the bunk bed.
"Uncle!" Stephen cries out. He holds the flute up for Uncle to see. There is a long crack all the way down the side.
"Ah, the air is too dry," Uncle says sadly.
Stephen and Uncle try tying it together and taping it. But when he plays it, it just sounds windy. He tries and tries until Uncle says finally, "We can't fix it."
Stephen takes Daddy's music and a flashlight and runs out of the house. We can hear him pushing the bike away from the house.
"Where are you going?" Obasan calls from the door. But Stephen doesn't answer. From the window we can see the light from his flashlight bouncing up and down as he goes down the road. It's the first time Stephen has gone to town on his bike at night.
Bedtime passes and still Stephen doesn't come home. He doesn't come home all night long. Early the next morning, as Uncle is getting ready to go to look for him, we can see Stephen riding his bike. He looks like a dot on the road.
"Where were you?" Obasan asks. She's been sitting up all night. She left the coal-oil lamp on in the window.
Stephen just shrugs his shoulders.
He doesn't want to talk.
Uncle doesn't say anything.
The next day, when we're hoeing, Stephen tells me he went to the United Church in Granton. A window was open. He climbed in and felt around till he found the piano. He also found a blanket and covered the piano so it would be quieter. He was afraid he might get caught. Then he played Daddy's music until the flashlight batteries died.
"Want to hear Daddy's songs?" he asks. The tunes he whistles are so happy they make me want to dance.
Stephen says when the flashlight went dead, he took the blanket off the piano and fell asleep.
"When I grow up," Stephen says, "I'm going to have a piano and a violin and another flute. I really am, Naomi. And a trumpet too."
"I believe you, Stephen," I say as I whack out the weeds.
15
Across the field from our hut is a place where the cows are. I bring my baby doll and my Mickey Mouse to play here. There's a dead tree and a swampy slough of water with bulrushes and bushes around it. And what a lot of creatures there are! The longer I watch, the more I can see. There are wriggly tadpoles, dragonflies, water spiders, mosquito babies, jelly eggs, frogs, toads, busy ants. If I make even a little noise, all the swamp sounds stop.
I pretend we're back in the mountains. But it isn't like the mountains at all.
"Wouldn't it be nice if Mitzi was here?" I whisper. "And Raggedy Ann too?" I remember I used to pretend that my Japanese doll could talk. But I don't play like that anymore.
One Saturday, after supper, I'm sitting by myself at the swamp. The frogs and toads are croaking and breeping us usual. Once in a while a meadowlark sings. All along the edge of the sky, the clouds are changing colors. It's quiet and still, yet the world looks like it's on fire. I remember Mama used to say that a match was safe if you could blow it out. But what if the whole world was on fire? How could you blow that out?
I'm staring right into the fierce red and purple sunset. Gradually I notice that three people are coming down the road. They seem to be walking in the middle of a huge fire.
In the Bible there's a story of an angel. The angel kept three men safe when they walked in a fiery furnace. Who are these three, I wonder. And where is their angel? I ought to be safe, I guess. Daddy said that all God's angels were going to be with me.
As they get closer I recognize Stephen first. He's pushing his bike and whistling. He's trying to copy the meadowlark. Stephen must have an angel that flies through the air gathering music. Uncle is walking on the other side, carrying a bucket, and the minister is in the middle. He's pushing his bike too.
I stand up and wave to them. Uncle and the minister wave back.
"Hello, Naomi," the minister calls.
All the frogs and toads suddenly stop their noise. Plip ploop, they go, as they dive for safety.
"Coming with us?" Stephen asks.
The minister says that he saw some beautiful mushrooms beside the road. Uncle and the minister know which mushrooms are safe to eat.
"It wasn't far from here," the minister says as we walk along. He slows down as we come to a sandy stretch. There are some wild rose bushes growing on the other side of the ditch.
"Ah," the minister says, putting his bike down. "See how generous the earth is to us." And there, along the whole stretch of sand past the roses, is an enormous crop of mushrooms.
"Such treasures," the minister says as he helps us fill Uncle's pail. "These are such treasures." When the pail is full Stephen pulls off a rose and puts it on top of the mushrooms. There are still lots of mushrooms left to pick.
After a while the minister rides off down the road in the graying light. He's taking a bagful of mushrooms to another family five miles away. The minister always brings news or gifts. Tonight, Stephen says, he brought a letter for me.
"For me? Who from?"
I ask.
"Someone in Slocan," Stephen says.
I wonder who it can be.
By the time we get back to the hut, the stars are bright in the sky.
I don't recognize the handwriting on the envelope at all.
There's a white piece of cardboard wrapped inside the letter. I read the letter first. It isn't very long. It goes like this:
Dear Naomi,
I am fine. How are you? It is raining today. My mother is going to send my letter to your minister. If you get this, please write to me right away.
Goodbye,
Your friend, Mitzi
P.S. Send me a card like mine and we'll be you know what.
Super P.S. My mother says to say hello to everyone.
Extra Super P.S. How is Baby? Smudge the chipmunk says to say hello.
Extra extra etc. etc. Patsy and Gruff have more babies. I wish you could have one.
That's the end of the letter. I can guess what's on the card. I'll bet anything I'm right. But I'm not going to look yet. I feel like shouting but I giggle instead. It makes me giggle to think of Smudge saying hello. It makes me giggle just thinking of how much Mitzi and I giggled and giggled.
"Who wrote?" Stephen asks.
I show him the letter. But I won't show anyone the card. I hide under the blanket with a flashlight.
I was right! There's a small blotchy mark on the card beside her name. "THIS IS BLOOD" it says under the mark. Above the mark is a verse.
WE TWO ARE A SISTERHOOD
WE SEAL THIS SECRET
WITH OUR BLOOD
We're blood sisters! I feel like jumping out of the covers. But I mustn't let anyone know. It's a secret. A blood sister is forever. If we tell anyone, the magic will be broken and our secret codes will be destroyed. If one of us gets caught in a war, we have the power to rescue the other.
We talked about it in our hide-out in the woods. But we didn't have a needle. I was glad we didn't. Poking your finger hurts. We printed our promise on a white piece of birch bark. I wonder if it's still there under the stone where Mitzi and I once buried a dead bird.
I hide Mitzi's card under my pillow. Stephen is sitting at the table biting his pencil. He's doing his homework. Obasan is washing the mushrooms.
"So big," she says. "Such fat mushrooms."
Uncle has put the pink rose in a glass vase. It's on the table in front of Stephen.
No one is watching as I hunt for a needle in Obasan's sewing box. There's one with a long black thread on it. I squinch my face up and jab my finger. Oo! A tiny dot of blood comes out when I squeeze hard.
I take Mitzi's card from under the pillow. Bap! There it is now. I've made a blood blotch too. I take out my pencil and sign my name beside my blood. It's done! Now, at this moment, our sisterhood has begun. Tomorrow I'm going to the swamp to write Mitzi a letter.
16
Where am I? What is this place?
Daddy? Daddy, don't go yet.
Wait. This can't be right. "Daddy!" I'm whispering out loud. I really am awake now. But wasn't I awake just a minute ago?
There's a light glow in the room. I don't know where it's coming from. It isn't grayish white like the light from the moon. It's more yellowy. My head feels funny, as if there's a wind rushing around in it.
Was I just having a dream? It didn't seem like a dream. First, Mama was here in this very room. So was Daddy. I can still feel them here. Mama was inside the wild rose in the vase and Daddy came out of the mushrooms. They were singing the daffodil song.
"How did you, Miss Daffodilly,
Get your pretty dress?
Is it made of gold and sunshine?
Yes, child. Yes."
I was so glad to see them that I sat up in bed and put out my arms. I was little again.
"Don't go away, Mama," I cried. "Daddy, don't go away." But as I reached out to them they began to fade and disappear.
"A match is safe if you can blow it out," Mama said.
And suddenly the rose was burning. I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't cry out. Somehow, then, I knew I was dreaming. I tried and tried to wake up, but I couldn't. I was falling and falling and I couldn't see and I was dizzy. It was almost like the time in the lake in Slocan with Rough Lock Bill.
Before I could land I broke through. I was awake in my bed. My eyes were still closed. I knew I was really awake, but I could see the room with my eyes closed. Daddy was right here. He sat beside me on the bed. I thought, "Isn't this funny. I can see Daddy with my eyes closed."
"God's angels are always with you," he said. Then he hugged me so tight I can still feel it. I really did know he was here.
I said, "Daddy." And then my eyes opened like they are now. I know I know I know he's here. So is Mama. Even if I can't see them. Everything I see is a kind of fuzzy golden dream.
The mushrooms are washed and sitting in a bowl. And the wild rose is on the table. I tiptoe over to smell the rose. It smells like Mama's perfume.
Uncle turns his head as I climb off the bench. "So early," he whispers.
"I had a dream," I whisper back. I know that's the way I have to tell him about it.
Uncle sits up listening carefully and nodding his head. "She was singing in the rose?" he asks. "In the rose? Right now? And fire?"
I nod.
Uncle lowers his eyes. "Are they still here, Naomi?" he asks softly.
Now that I'm talking to Uncle, I'm not sure anymore. I look at the rose and it just looks like a rose.
"I don't know, Uncle."
Uncle stares and stares at the rose. Finally, he whispers, "Pack some food, Naomi. We have somewhere to go."
Obasan opens her eyes. "Why are you awake?" she asks.
Uncle waves his hand. "Sh. Sh," he says. "It's too early to be up."
I don't know where Uncle and I are going. I put some peanut butter sandwiches and two apples in a bag as quietly as I can. Uncle fills a bottle with grape juice from a can.
The sky is gradually getting lighter as we start walking across the field. We pass the swamp and keep on going. When we get to the mushrooms, Uncle stops.
"Here," Uncle says. "This is where we'll sit."
The ditch is almost dry except for a small trickle of water at the bottom. Uncle squats on the slope of the ditch beside the mushrooms. The long shadow of the rose bushes reaches across the road. I squat beside Uncle in the speckled morning shadow.
Close by, a meadowlark is singing. And from far across the fields, at another farm, a rooster is crowing. We sit and sit as the earth grows gradually warmer and the shadows shrink.
I grow tired just sitting here in the sand.
"I'm hungry, Uncle," I say at last.
He doesn't move. He's staring straight ahead. He's looking right through the roses. I wonder if he can hear Mama singing there. Or maybe he can see Daddy in the mushroom patch. I can't hear them or see them at all now.
"Do you want a sandwich, Uncle?" I ask.
He sighs a deep sigh and looks at the sky. "No one knows the ways of the universe," he says quietly. "No one knows. No one knows."
We sit eating our sandwiches and drinking from the bottle of juice. Ants come to take away the crumbs.
When we finish eating, Uncle gathers more mushrooms. The paper bag is almost full when we see the minister. He's riding on his bike towards us.
"Hi," I call, waving.
"Good morning," he says as he comes closer. "You're up early."
"Ah," Uncle says, straightening his back. "We came to smell the roses."
"Good, good," the minister says, nodding.
As we walk back down the road, Uncle and the minister talk about mushrooms and roses.
"Mm," the minister says thoughtfully, when Uncle tells him about my dream. "And the rose was on fire?" He shakes his head. "There are ways to walk safely when the world is in flame. There are ways to blow the fire out."
I wonder what the minister means.
"There is a straight road to walk," he says. He seems to be t
alking in riddles.
"What's the road's name?" I ask.
"Everyone has some treasures and our road goes to where our treasures are," the minister says. "The names of our roads are the names of our treasures."
Yesterday the minister said the mushrooms were treasures. This must be Mushroom Road we're on. But really, this road doesn't have a name at all. The one beside our hut is called Number Seven Road. What a boring name.
Uncle smiles. "The best treasures are friends," he says.
The minister nods. "Yes. A treasure that we keep here." He taps his chest. "Friendship Road is an important highway."
I'm thinking that Mitzi is a good name for a road. But this road we're on, I'll call Mushroom Patch Road. And the swamp will be Mitzi Meadows. I'll make a sign and put it on the tree where I sit.
I start skipping down Mushroom Patch Road towards Mitzi Meadows. Uncle and the minister are still talking in riddles behind me. But I feel as if Mitzi and Mama and Daddy were walking along with us in the golden sunshine.
When we get near the hut, we can hear Obasan singing the daffodil song. I've never heard her sing it before. I didn't know she knew it.
"That's what Mama and Daddy were singing this morning," I tell Uncle and the minister.
"Yes," the minister says, smiling and nodding. "The world is full of signs. We have to know how to read them."
They're going to keep talking in those riddles that adults like. But I'm going to get Baby a pencil and paper to take to Mitzi Meadows. Mitzi and I have a lot of codes to work out. It's going to take me all day.