The Samurai's Garden

by Gail Tsukiyama

  “But the nightmare returned all too soon. When we reached the clearing, I saw with my own eyes that Yamaguchi was only the beginning of my horrors. At the time, the village was no more than a few broken-down shacks occupied by lepers with much more advanced symptoms than mine. Matsu told me that many of them had come from other parts of Japan. I tried to be polite, but I had to cover my mouth and nose with my hand against the nauseating smell of rotting flesh which preceded several of the mutilated villagers. They seemed to know Matsu already. Most of them were dirty and unkempt, their soiled bandages half falling off, and the stench grew stronger the closer we came to the center of the clearing. When I saw the raw, open wounds, the flesh eaten away where noses and mouths had once been, the fingers and toes that had dropped off, I felt sick to my stomach. They were all monsters. I remember thinking that if Yamaguchi were to be my fate, then death would be kinder. I looked at Matsu and suddenly saw him as my enemy for bringing me to such a place. Without a word, I turned around and began running. I had no idea where I was going, but I started back down the mountain path. The sun was hot and heavy overhead and the bright light hurt my eyes.

  “‘Sachi! Sachi, where are you going?’ I could hear Matsu calling after me. I became more frightened when I heard his dull footsteps closing in on me. I tried to run faster, the throbbing in my head growing stronger until I tripped over something and fell headfirst onto the ground. I don’t remember what happened next, but when I awoke, it was dark. When my eyes adjusted to the shadows, I saw that I was lying in one of the makeshift shacks, the outline of a woman by the door, asleep. I thought about running away again, but just sitting up made me dizzy. I was dressed only in my undergarments and I couldn’t find my kimono. I was so scared and tired, and there was nowhere else for me to go. I closed my eyes again and the next thing I knew it was morning and I could hear the woman quietly moving around the small, bare room.

  “At first, I pretended to be asleep, opening my eyes just enough to watch the blurry figure dressed in black pour water from a wooden bucket into a basin. But before I had a chance to decide what to do, the slight old woman turned around and was at the side of my futon looking down at me. I don’t know if she knew I was awake or not, but then she knelt down beside me and gently wiped my face with a wet towel before laying it on my forehead. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more soothing. It was only then that I opened my eyes to take my first good look at Michiko, the ob-san of Yamaguchi.

  “Even now, when I think of her kindness, there is pain in my heart remembering my first reaction to her. When I fully opened my eyes and saw the noseless face and the distorted features eaten away by the disease, I let out a scream that brought the entire village to the door of the shack. The next thing I knew, Matsu was standing beside Michiko reassuring her. She nodded her head, bowed, and moved out of the way. I would only calm down when Michiko had left the room and I was alone with Matsu.

  “‘Why did you bring me here? Why couldn’t you just let me die in the woods?’ I screamed at him.

  “Matsu stood there silent. After a long time watching me, he simply said, ‘Go then.’

  “Then it was my turn to be silent. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I quickly slipped on my soiled kimono which lay on the ground next to me, then started to get up from the futon, not caring if Matsu was there or not. He never moved to stop me, though I heard him shuffling his feet against the dirt floor before he turned around and left the shack. After a few moments it was Michiko who returned, this time her face covered by a dark veil. She bowed low and said, ‘Forgive me for frightening you.’

  “I stood there ashamed, but couldn’t bring myself to look at her. The kindness in her voice filled me with haji. Then I felt her deformed hand lifting my chin, so that I had no choice but to look up at her veiled face. And through the dark cloth I could see the outlines of her lips form a smile.

  “‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

  “‘What is there to be sorry about?’ she said, ‘I would be frightened by this face if it were the first thing I saw in the morning. I often forget what effect it has on those who first come here. Especially a young girl as kirei as you, Sachi-san.’

  “‘I can’t stay here,’ I said.

  “Michiko didn’t answer me right away. She ladled some water into a pot and placed it on the heated stone to boil. ‘There aren’t many choices for us,’ she finally said.

  “‘I’ll end my life rather than stay here!’ I threatened, taking a step toward the door, only to stop and wait for Michiko to say something. Instead, she turned away from me, remaining as silent as the earth. I watched her reach up to the makeshift shelf, take down a jar filled with green tea and sprinkle some leaves into a clay pot. When the water boiled, Michiko poured it into the pot of green leaves and we both waited in the thick silence. I felt strangely calmed by this simple ritual I had seen my mother do many hundred times before. It was all that seemed to make sense in this place and I held on to it as if I were drowning. I should have been halfway back down the mountain, but I couldn’t let go of the sweet, warm smell, the last thin thread to my childhood.

  “I have stayed in Yamaguchi from that day on. Matsu began to live between the two worlds, returning to Tarumi to work, sleep, and buy the much-needed supplies and building materials for Yamaguchi. To this day, I don’t know what he must have told his family about his disappearance all those months he spent taking care of me. Fortunately, Matsu was always one to go his own way, even as a young boy.

  “But you must remember, Stephen-san, I was barely seventeen and had never been away from my family. It did not all occur with the ease of my words. I was hysterical for months, and wouldn’t talk or trust anyone except for Matsu and, little by little, Michiko. I don’t know if I was more frightened by the fact that I was living among monsters, or the thought that I would soon turn into one of them. You see, I was very selfish then, thinking the world revolved around me. Tomoko and I had always been treated like princesses when we were young, and I never knew what it meant to go out of my way for others. And though it shocked me to realize that Tomoko’s brother was creating a new life for me, I was totally dependent on him.

  “Even now after so many years have passed, I still don’t know how Matsu and Michiko were able to stand me. When I first realized what my life had become, I couldn’t help but throw my anger at them. Yet, they put up with my hours of crying and my refusal even to get up and bathe. They surely must have thought that I was the monster, and not all those who were courageously trying to build Yamaguchi. But never once did either of them raise a voice to me.

  “There were so many nights I lay on a thin futon on the hard ground of Michiko’s shack, unable to sleep. I felt as if I would suffocate as I listened to Michiko’s labored breathing, my eyes burning with tears. I cried out of a deep loneliness for my past life, and because it was all I had left. How many times did I wonder what Kenzo was doing? Or, if my mother had stored away my wedding kimono along with my other childhood treasures in her black lacquer chest? Sometimes I felt like I would go insane not having the answers to such simple questions. Of course, it was always hardest during the night, when the darkness stole away any signs of hope. Sometimes I would strike my forehead with my fist until my face was bruised and my fingernails had dug bloody pockets in my palm.

  “Only slowly did I begin to heal. Every so often I was overwhelmed by a phantom pain that cut through me like a knife. I was certain that if I looked down I would find blood all over, like the knife I once held in my hands, but it was all in my mind. Over the months I learned to keep these thoughts to myself. So when Matsu thought I was well enough that I would no longer hurt myself, he gradually began to leave me with Michiko for longer periods of time. Then, one morning Matsu just didn’t come. We thought nothing of it since he would often skip a day, but when he didn’t return for several more days, I began to worry, pacing the small shack I shared with Michiko. What if something had happened to him? He was the only connection I
had left to my former life. The thought of losing the one person in Tarumi who knew I existed was too difficult to bear. Michiko tried to soothe me by saying, ‘Matsu-san will be here soon, there’s no need to worry.’ But the fear inside of me just grew stronger. For the first time since I’d arrived in Yamaguchi, I walked out of the small shack by myself and began to wander around the village, anxiously looking out for Matsu. And while there was no sign of him, three old lepers began hobbling after me, trying to talk. ‘Where are you going, Sachi-san? Let us help you,’ they said. I know they didn’t mean any harm, but I was young and still frightened by their deformities and strange smells. When one of them reached out and tried to take my arm, I began screaming. It wasn’t until Michiko came running that I calmed down. I remember that in her hurry she had forgotten to wear her veil. But when I saw her dark eyes and heard the soothing words she whispered, I let myself relax in her arms, feeling safe at last.

  “Sweet Michiko-san. Even now after so many years I can still see her, and I sometimes dream of her walking through the door with her quiet words. I came to welcome her monstrous face, which had once terrified me. I can’t forget the ragged hole where her nose was and the crusted sores where her eyebrows used to be. The leprosy had nearly consumed her entire face. She must have already been in the last stages when I came to Yamaguchi. She disguised the smell of her decaying flesh by rubbing crushed eucalyptus leaves all over her body. What was left of her hair she kept shiny by washing with a seaweed mixture. She would tell me many such secrets during our few years together. By the time I knew her, she was shrunken and old, and I tried not to imagine the woman she was before the disease.

  “But even better than the advice she shared as I adjusted to my new life were the stories Michiko told me. I thirsted for every word as if my life somehow grew with them. And so it was that Michiko nurtured my body those early days, and kept my mind alive with her many stories.

  “On the third night of Matsu’s absence, I was so terrified that he would never return, I lay huddled in my bed. I wouldn’t eat a thing, only sipped the pungent green tea Michiko brought to me. I had just closed my eyes and begun to cry again when I felt her beside my futon and heard her soft voice fill the room. ‘When I was young, Sachi-san, my mother told me stories when I wasn’t feeling well. One story which I treasure most I would like to tell you now.

  “I didn’t say a word, just lay there nodding my head in the flickering light of the candle, waiting.

  “‘There was once a girl named Sumiko,’ Michiko began, ‘who was born in the Mie Prefecture, near the city of Toba on the Shima Peninsula. Ever since she was a little girl she had dreamed of becoming an ama-san, a pearl diver, like her mother. Sumiko thought they were the most beautiful women alive, dressed in their white cotton clothing from head to toe. Even as a small child she watched her mother dive into the sea over and over again, bringing up with her the rough, sea-shaped oyster and abalone shells until she filled a large wooden bucket. Sumiko’s father watched from shore, as the village men had for hundreds of years. Only women dived for the shiny pearls. It was believed that women were better able to stand the cold. Some of the ama-sans stayed underwater for so long Sumiko was afraid their lungs would burst and their lifeless bodies would float to the surface like seaweed. But her father always reassured Sumiko that her mother could hold her breath longer than anyone. To Sumiko, the ama-sans were like a school of white dolphins flipping gracefully through the water. And every evening Sumiko would lift the rough shells from the bucket, prying open their closed mouths to find the translucent pearls hiding under their tongues.’

  “Worried as I was about Matsu’s disappearance that evening, Michiko had my attention. I lay there listening, trying to imagine those women pearl divers, gleaming white on the glassy surface of the sea. Michiko’s voice filled the small room like magic.

  “‘Sumiko was married at fourteen to a village boy named Akio, whom she had known all of her life. Their families were happy and so were they, especially when Sumiko became an ama-san. The water was so cold that day, but the moment she dived deep into the water and pulled up her first shell, she felt as if the sea were part of her. She dived again and again, filling not one bucket, but three. Akio had to threaten to jump in and pull her out before she would stop. Sumiko thought she couldn’t have been happier—until the day she discovered she was expecting her first child. When she told Akio, they both laughed with joy.

  “‘But as with all life, things don’t often turn out as planned. As Sumiko grew bigger and bigger with child, Akio began to worry and asked her to stop diving.”When our baby is big and strong, you can dive again,” he said. Sumiko knew it was a reasonable request and reluctantly agreed.

  “‘But, being an ama-san was in her blood. After a week of not diving, Sumiko became ill. She grew so weak she could barely get out of bed. The village doctor was summoned, but he couldn’t find anything wrong. Sumiko seemed perfectly healthy and the baby was doing fine. Yet, Sumiko grew weaker each day that she didn’t dive. Akio’s heart grew heavy. If he didn’t do something soon, he would lose both Sumiko and the baby.

  “‘One night Sumiko grew faint and cold. Akio was barely able to detect her heartbeat. Out of sheer desperation, he carried his frail wife down to the sea. As he braved the cold waters, Akio feared this would be their last chance. He lowered Sumiko into the cold water, holding her up in his arms. Like a miracle a great warmth surged through her body, warming the water around them. Very slowly Sumiko’s eyes opened wide and she regained her strength. Akio called out her name with happiness, but Sumiko only looked at him with blank eyes, then turned away and dived into the sea. Akio tried to stop her, but in a moment Sumiko had disappeared. He watched for hours, hoping she would return, but the calm, dark water held no sign of her.

  “‘For three months Akio mourned his loss. Then one night as he was preparing for bed, he heard a strange voice singing. Rushing outside, he was delighted to see Sumiko standing beside their house. She was completely dressed in the white clothes of an ama-san, and she was thin again. “Where have you been?” asked Akio, but before he could embrace her, she lifted toward him something wrapped in a white blanket: Their baby! Akio was filled with joy as he held his little daughter, but when Sumiko turned back to the sea, he cried out for her to stop. At the water’s edge of the sea, she called out to him,”I must return to the sea now. My life as I knew it is over now. See that our child lives well.” And with that, Sumiko vanished forever.

  “‘Though he never knew where she had gone, Akio seemed to know that some mysterious blessing had allowed his wife to bring his daughter back to him. He raised his little Kuniko to be a fine young woman, who looked so much like her mother his heart often ached looking at her. And when she expressed a wish to be a pearl diver like her mother, Akio never said one word to stop her, knowing that somewhere in the dark depths of the sea, Sumiko would always be there to protect her.’

  “When Michiko finished telling me this story, I felt I’d been awakened from a dream. All night long I lay in bed thinking of Sumiko the pearl diver, and how she had managed to give her daughter life, knowing that she couldn’t stay and watch her grow. What bargain had she struck with the sea that allowed Sumiko to return her daughter to her husband? These thoughts turned around and around in my head until I fell into a deep sleep.

  “When Matsu finally returned the following day, he appeared pale and thinner. I learned that he had been very ill and wasn’t able to make the journey up the mountain. I felt every bit the fool I was. I never stopped to think how much effort and energy it took him to travel back and forth to Tarumi. He had always seemed indestructible.

  “‘Are you feeling better?’ I bowed.

  Matsu nodded his head. ‘Much better.’

  “‘I was worried that something might have happened,’ I said, timidly.

  “Matsu smiled. ‘Were you all right here with Michiko?’

  “‘She helped me through a difficult time,’ I admitted.


  “‘What happened?’ Matsu asked, concerned.

  “‘It’s not important now,’ I answered, getting up and putting on some water to boil.

  “I could feel Matsu’s eyes watching me intently. I was becoming very uncomfortable under his gaze when he said softly, ‘You’ve changed.’ Then he quickly asked, ‘What did you talk about with Michiko? Did she tell you she was once a pearl diver?’

  “I stopped short, surprised, then asked Matsu, ‘Do you know if she had a little girl?’

  “At first Matsu was quiet, his forehead creased in remembering. ‘Yes,’ he finally said. ‘She did have a daughter.’

  “You see, Stephen-san, that day I learned that there were greater losses than mine. Every man and woman in Yamaguchi had a life before coming here. From then on I could never look at any of them without asking myself: ‘Whom did they leave behind? How much did they give up? What bargains did they try to make?’ If I hadn’t learned humility before then, from that day on I knew what the word meant. Here in Yamaguchi I learned that beauty exists where you least expect to find it.

  “Very slowly, Matsu and Michiko taught me how to live with the others. And with myself. Gradually the thought of ending my life left my mind. As if I were a child learning to walk again, Matsu enticed me to take one step at a time: Bringing me first to Yamaguchi, then building me a house, and finally, creating this garden for me to tend.