Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Vancouver, British Columbia
March 1942
Japan is at war with the United States, Great Britain and all the Allied Countries, including Canada, the country of my birth. My parents are Japanese, born in Japan, but they have been Canadian citizens for many, many years, and have become part of this young country. Now, overnight our rights as Canadians are taken away. Mass evacuation for the Japanese!
“All the Japanese,” it is carefully explained to me, “whether we were born in Tokyo or in Vancouver are to be moved to distant places. Away from the west coast of British Columbia–for security reasons.”
We must all leave, my sister Yuki, my older brother David, my parents, our relatives–all.
The older men are the first to go. The government feels that my father, or his friends, might sabotage the police and their buildings. Imagine! I couldn’t believe such stories, but there is my father packing just his clothes in a small suitcase.
Yuki says, “They are going to the foothills of the Rockies, to Tête Jaune. No one’s there, and I guess they feel father won’t bomb the mountains.”
The older people are very frightened. Mother is so upset; so are all her friends. I, being only eleven, seem to be on the outside.
One March day, we go to the station to see father board the train.
At the train station
An empty bottle is tossed in the air.
I stand away, hold my mother’s hand.
Angry, dark curses, a scream. A train window is broken.
Most of the men have been drinking.
An angry man is shouting.
The men are dragged violently into the trains.
Father can be seen. He is being pushed onto the train.
He is on the steps, turns. His head is above the
shouting crowd. I see his mouth opening; he shouts
to his friends, waves his clenched fist.
But the words are lost in all the noise.
Mother holds my hand tightly.
A sharp police whistle blows.
My blood stops. We see a uniformed Mounted Police drag
an old man and hurl him into the train.
More curses, threats. The old train bellows
its starting sound. White, hellish smoke appears
from the top of its head. It grunts, gives another
shrill blast. Slowly, slowly, the engine comes to life.
I watch from where we stand, fascinated.
The huge, black, round, ugly wheels begin
to move slowly, then faster, and faster.
Finally, the engine, jet dark,
rears its body and moves with a lurch.
The remaining men rush toward the train,
scramble quickly into the moving machine.
Men crowd at the windows. Father is still on the steps,
he seems to be searching the crowd, finally sees us, waves.
Mother does not move. Yuki and I wave. Most remain still.
The dark, brown faces of the men become small.
Some are still shouting. Yuki moves closer to mother.
The long, narrow, old train quickly picks up speed
as it coils away along the tracks
away from all of us who are left at the station.
Mother is silent. I look at her.
I see tears are slowly falling. They remain
on her cheeks. I turn away, look around. The women
and the children stare at one another. Some women
cry right out loud. A bent old woman breaks out
into Buddhist prayer, moves her orange beads
in her wrinkled hands, prays aloud to her God.
Mother and the other women bow their heads.
The silent God seems so far away.
Summer 1942
From March to September, 1942, my mother, my sister Yuki and I are alone in Vancouver. David, our brother, is taken away, for he is over eighteen and in good health....
