by Camellia Lee
Whenever he asks me questions, I try to change the subject. Sometimes I suggest we go exploring instead. I always make sure to keep a respectful distance from the guards when we go exploring, though. Usually, as we go, other children join us along the way. I feel like the Pied Piper of Hamlin since I’m the oldest girl in the group of children.
Sumiko
Dear Emi,
School started a couple days ago. When I left Phoenix I wasn’t sure if I would ever go to school again, but I am glad to have something to keep my mind on. I am so happy to be learning again that school here almost seems normal.
It’s held in an empty barrack space. Miss Tanaka is great; she’s smart and the other students seem to love her too.
Yesterday I went to the gravel pit and got some rocks. Miss Tanaka warned us to be careful about touching any animals around here because of diseases. She told us about a tarantula in one of the barracks. We are going to see it tomorrow and I’m very excited.
It’s sad that I’m getting used to living here, but what choice do I have? At the very least, I have settled into a routine.
Suzie
September 21, 1942
Dear Diary,
Blocks 3, 6, 12, 23 had no running water this morning because the water pipe broke. The people in these blocks had to go to other places to wash their faces and brush their teeth. It took twice as long because of the crowds!
Sumiko
October 18, 1942
Dear Diary,
There are a lot of birthdays around here lately.
It was Bobby’s birthday yesterday. He lives in the barrack next to ours. Bobby turned nine years old. To celebrate, he made a kite that flew very high. But his brother, Johnny, cried when he didn’t have a kite. So Bobby made one for him too.
We all wrote letters to Miss Tanaka because today was her birthday. My classmate Tomomi played a joke on her this afternoon. He put a bug on her chair after she got up. When she saw it she screamed and jumped really high.
I’ve made a few friends, but I still miss Emi. I miss her loud laugh. I wish I was still sitting outside her family’s store with her, dreaming of our futures.
Sumiko
October 24, 1942
Dear Diary,
Sickness is really becoming a problem around here. Miki’s little brother had pneumonia. I notice Papa is not so well either. All of us are cold at night because there is no insulation from the cold or heat. I am getting sick of the food. We don’t have any fresh vegetables; they’re all canned.
I hope Mama and her baby stay healthy. Only a few more months until I get to meet my new brother or sister.
Sumiko
November 9, 1942
Dear Diary,
Everybody knows everything about everybody—when you go to the shower room, when you go to the latrine, how long you are in the latrine, and on and on. You can’t keep anything private in a place like this. But hardly anyone pays attention to what anyone wears. There’s no point. None of us have many clothes. We all came with what we could carry. Our bodies are covered by desert dirt every day by mid-afternoon. Everyone just keeps washing and mending the same clothes. The laundry room is never empty.
Mama is constantly mending clothes. No matter when I come in, she is sitting on her cot with a needle and thread, sometimes resting her hand on her growing belly. If only she had her sewing machine . . .
Sumiko
Chapter Fifteen
It wasn’t long before the camp administration set aside a plot of land at the edge of camp for farming. It was decided that prisoners would do the manual labor of tending to the crops. Laborers were paid wages of twelve dollars per month for eight hours of work daily. At first, the administration said machinery could only be operated by white personnel. But eventually they allowed the prisoners to take over all the farming. The prisoners proved to be better at using the machinery than the white personnel, anyway. After all, many of them, including Sumiko’s father, had their own farms back home.
Sumiko’s father and others worked to prepare the land for farming. But they faced many challenges along the way, the first being farming in an unfamiliar territory.
Initially, the dry land and lack of water posed problems for cultivation. But eventually a large-scale irrigation system was installed. It brought water directly from the Colorado River, only two and a half miles away, to the crops.
The farmers also battled dust storms. It seemed to Sumiko that her father and the others were constantly plowing the land in an attempt to reshape the landscape and bring fresh, fertile soil to the top.
The camp farm cultivated a variety of fresh vegetables, including some traditional Japanese vegetables such as daikon and gobo from seeds the prisoners had brought with them.
Sumiko was overjoyed that they would have fresh vegetables to eat, and even more grateful because she knew how much work her father and the other farmers had done to make that food possible. But her father told her that much of the crop would be sold for commercial use or distributed to American troops.
Chapter Sixteen
December 7, 1942
Dear Diary,
I miss my room where I could read and write and watch the moonlight through my window and just be by myself. I miss the sound of cicadas buzzing at night on our farm. Right now, I can hear people talking through our thin wall and other sounds a few more walls down. I wish I could have some space to myself.
And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss the warmth. It gets very cold here at night. Sometimes it doesn’t warm up until noon!
I miss Emi too.
Sumiko
Dear Emi,
My baby brother is dead. I know you didn’t even know that Mama had her baby, or that it was a boy, or that his name was Keiji. But none of that matters now because he’s gone.
He came one month earlier than he was supposed to. When Mama got to the hospital, the nurse said the doctor was not there. He had collapsed during the night from exhaustion. He had delivered two babies and had been on his feet all that time without help. So he had gone back to the barracks to sleep.
Mama was in a room by herself most of the time, and was in labor for almost twenty-eight hours. A nurse would come in every once in a while to check on her and the baby. At one point, the nurse said that the baby’s heartbeat was very faint and that she was going to have to call the doctor. But Mama waited for a long time for the doctor to come check on her. When he finally did, he told her that they would have to pull the baby out of her using a pincer-type instrument called forceps.
Mama says she remembers looking at Keiji after he was born and thinking something didn’t look right. He was very pale and his cries were very faint. When I finally got to see him, a few hours after he was born, I noticed that he had scabs on his head where the forceps had been used.
Later that evening he was taken to the nursery to sleep. In the morning, a nurse informed us that he had died overnight. I had never seen Mama cry like she did at that moment. She screamed and fell to the floor.
I know I said that this place is no place for a baby, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want my baby brother.
Suzie
Chapter Seventeen
Dear Suzie,
I’m so sorry to hear about your baby brother. I hope your mama is okay. I miss you so much.
I am still dancing even though I’m not on the dance team this year. I didn’t make the team. I’m really disappointed. I practiced so hard. Mama thinks it’s because I’m Japanese. I think she’s right. But, I’m trying not to let this setback stop me. I got some books to use at home. I’m using them to learn the ballet steps as best I can, but it’s hard without someone to guide you.
I hope you’ll continue writing to me. I wonder when you’ll be able to come home. I hope it’s soon.
Love,
Emi
�
��Ohayo gozaimasu.” Good morning.
After having been in camp for over a year, the prisoners at Poston fell into a rhythm.
The Issei greeted one other with a nod. Strangers were no longer strangers.
“Atsui desu ne?” It is hot, isn’t it?
The prisoners empathized with one another. Everyone was equal, whether they were lawyers or engineers or farmworkers or mothers. Mutual imprisonment had leveled the social classes that stood out in American society.
Chapter Eighteen
Dear Emi,
Well, it looks like I’m spending another Christmas in this camp. Even though it’s not like Christmas on our farm in Phoenix, everyone does their best to make the season as enjoyable and memorable as possible. I even helped decorate the mess hall last week!
School is coming along, but I miss our teacher Miss Tanaka. Mr. Fukuoka is so strict. Our final tests will be in May but that seems a long way off.
Keep practicing your dancing!
Suzie
“Sumiko, what do you want for Christmas this year?” Mama asked. Sumiko knew her parents had little to give her, but her mama had always managed to get her something special in years past.
“I’d like something to write and draw in,” Sumiko said after a few moments. Her old notebook was almost completely full.
It was Christmas Eve, and the camp staff was sponsoring a pageant called There Came Three Wise Men. Sumiko had been anticipating the performance for weeks.
It did not disappoint. There was dancing and singing that floated into the night air. And after the performance, there was a party. It was one of the best days that Sumiko had had since she first came to the camp.
The next morning, Sumiko woke to find a notebook had been slipped under her pillow.
Dear Suzie,
Christmas was empty and sad this year because I don’t have any close friends to share it with. People at school are still mean to me. Mama did her best to bring the Christmas spirit into our house. She bought a small nativity to place in the middle of our living room table. Tiny statues of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus were surrounded by animals and the three wise men. It was beautiful and peaceful.
Mama says that although the world has gone crazy, the Christmas story is always the same, and I know she’s right in a way. I also think about how everything just starts again after Christmas.
I guess it’s important to remember that, although that’s easy for me to say as I sit in my house and you sit in a prison camp.
I wish things were different. I miss you.
Love,
Emi
Chapter Nineteen
Dear Suzie,
Something terrible has happened. Someone set fire to our store last night. Mama’s urgent shouting woke me and Papa up early.
“Fire! Help! Fire!” she shouted.
I tried to shake off sleep from my eyes as Mama told me we had to get out of the house quickly. The air was thick with smoke and I tried to cover my face as I rushed upstairs and out the door. I was still in my bedclothes and had bare feet.
We raced across the street to the drugstore to call the fire department. Papa banged his palm on the glass until Mr. Johnson, the owner, appeared.
“Help!” “Fire!” “Hurry!” we all shouted together.
Mr. Johnson made the call while Mama, Papa, and I all huddled together away from the flames.
It was then that I saw it. Written across the front of our store in spray paint was: JAPS NOT WANTED.
The firefighters put out the blaze quickly, pouring great streams of water on the shooting flames. Then they checked carefully to make sure that the last spark was out.
There was broken glass everywhere and the whole store was flooded with water. Smoke had blackened the walls, most of the shelves were charred, and the counter was a black island of burned wood. Food in bags had been burned, the labels crinkled and peeling. Everything that wasn’t in tins or cans was useless.
Papa isn’t sure if we will close for good or not. Mama says “ganbare,” and that we won’t let anyone force us out.
We’re moving a few blocks over to live with my aunt for now. I can’t believe our home and business is ruined. Why would someone do this to us?
Mournfully,
Emi
Chapter Twenty
Dear Emi,
I’m so sorry to hear about your family’s store. I hope that you can rebuild quickly. Please be careful. I worry about your family all the time.
I don’t have anything but bad news to share. Papa hasn’t been well so we took him to the doctor today. They said he’s suffering from melancholia. They have no way of treating him here at camp, but we could arrange for him to go to the Phoenix Sanitarium where he can get shock treatments and maybe he’ll come out of it. But we have to pay for it.
We had some money from the sale of the car so Mama said okay. I hope he comes home soon.
Suzie
Dear Emi,
I go to the sanitarium as often as I can to see Papa. But his body is deteriorating and it is painful to see. He looks swollen and has uncontrollable bouts of coughing.
Waiting patients look at us with pity, and the staff seem uncaring. Papa never criticizes, but we complain that he cannot tolerate sitting upright in a wheelchair for long periods of time. I can tell he is exhausted after each visit with us.
Suzie
May 5, 1944
Dear Diary,
Papa has been in the hospital for going on two months now. Yesterday he said to me, “I want you to go on and be the wonderful daughter to your mother that you’ve been to me.”
This really scared me. He made it sound like he was dying.
He hardly looks like the man I used to know—the one who cultivated a farm from nothing. Most days he stays in bed, a pillow propped behind his back. His has become weak and is always tired.
I read to him every time we visit, and Mama holds his hand. The doctors aren’t talking much to us. He can no longer use the chopsticks we bring him.
Sumiko
Dear Emi,
I feel like I’m living in a nightmare. First we lost Keiji, and now Papa.
Two days ago, we got word that we needed to go see Papa right away. We went to be with him and he passed away a short time after we arrived.
We talked to the doctor yesterday who told us, “He didn’t really have melancholia. It was brought on by his heart.” Papa had never had trouble with his heart before. He was only thirty-three years old.
His death certificate says he died from heart disease.
I can’t help but wonder if we were never in camp, if Papa would still be with me today.
Suzie
Sumiko and her mother arranged for clearance to have a small funeral for Papa at the nearby Glendale cemetery.
“Don’t cry, Sumiko. Your papa was grateful for the time he had in this world,” Mama said. “We will be okay.”
But Mama’s words were little comfort to Sumiko. Sumiko felt so empty. Only the quiet was peaceful.
“Do not worry,” Mama continued. “We need to remember your papa’s memory.”
Sumiko knew her mother was trying to be brave for her sake. But she was too devastated to even pretend it was working. Her father was gone.
He taught me to love all of life. And now he has no more life left to live.
July 27, 1944
Dear Diary,
I know I am an American. Even though I’ve been in this camp for two years, the shock of it all never goes away. I am a loyal American citizen who is incarcerated and treated like a criminal.
I am angry that my government would do this to me. If I wasn’t sent here, we never would have lost my baby brother and my father. My family can never recover from those losses.
Sumiko
Chapter Twenty-One
Dear Suzie,
I could not believe your last letter. I’m so sad for you and your mother. Your father was a great man.
Things are changing in my life. I’m on a train on my way to New York. We are moving there. Papa got offered a job in a big supermarket. I hope it will be better than Arizona.
I’ve seen so many places I never thought I’d see on this train, and I wish you could see them too. Texas was really big, but also desolate and dry. Every morning when I wake up, the terrain has changed. The fields in Indiana were so much different than Arizona. But we’re getting closer to New York City now. There are so many houses here. Soon we’ll change trains for somewhere called Barrytown where we’re going to live.
I hope it will be a fresh start, but I’m sad to be farther away from you.
Emi
Chapter Twenty-Two
Part III: Home Again
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sumiko wasn’t sure why she was feeling a twinge of sadness. It was January of 1945, and she and her mother were free to leave Poston Relocation Center.
While she packed up her belongings, she felt a mix of emotions: happy and excited to see her family’s farm again but also anxious and sorrowful. Her father was not coming with them.
It had been almost three years since they arrived at the barren, desolate camp. Had it really been that long? Sumiko thought. It seemed like so much had changed during that time.
“What do you think home will look like now?” Sumiko asked Mama.
A thoughtful look came over Mama’s face. “I’m not sure. But we must put the past behind us and try to pick up where we left off.”
Sumiko knew that would be hard to do. Her father wouldn’t be with them, for starters. The farm had been in Mr. Findley’s hands since they left, and there was no telling the state that it would be in now. And Emi had moved away.