Year of Impossible Goodbyes (7 page)

Aunt Tiger brought Kisa inside and began bandaging his head. "What made you think you could fight the soldiers with their guns and swords?" Aunt Tiger said. "Haven't you seen enough ... how they kill us like flies?" I sat down next to them, and I wanted to ask Aunt Tiger where the girls were being taken and what would happen to them. But I felt it was silly to ask. Wherever they were being taken, I could tell it was a fate even worse than death.

Kisa wept uncontrollably, and said, "I will never see those girls again ... I couldn't save even one of them."

"It was only a matter of time," Aunt Tiger said. "You knew this day would come sooner or later."

"Maybe we will all see each other again. Maybe the war will end soon and they'll return to us," added Mother, as she came inside. When she saw me, she rushed over and held me tightly as if she wanted to squeeze all the fear out of me and said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ... We could truly use one miracle now, just one miracle." Mother's hot tears fell upon my forehead. Her voice was shaking and her body trembled. She was burning up with fever, and she shivered in her wet clothes. I touched her rough hands. All that frantic work had not done any good. It didn't matter how many socks they made. The Japanese could do whatever they wanted and no one could stop them.

From my bed, I heard the Lord's Prayer. I got up and peeked into Mother's room, and there, gathered around a candle and a small crucifix, were Mother, Aunt Tiger, and Kisa. Aunt Tiger was no longer making fun of Mother's Catholic God. I fell asleep as I listened to their devout prayers against the drumming of the rain. Kisa's voice was soothing, and I pretended that his voice was that of my father, three brothers, and my grandfather.

I must have fallen asleep. I felt a hot breeze brush against me, and then strange noises coming from the yard. I lay still in my bed. I could smell the candle that had been burning. I heard whispering in the next room. I got up and saw three figures, peering out at the yard through a crack in the rice-paper paneled doors. They were looking across the yard at the sock factory. I went over and saw that the lights were all on in the sock factory. For a split second I thought Mothers miracle had happened and the soldiers had brought the girls back to make some more socks. "Mother, are the sock girls back?" "Shhh," she replied. "Sit with us and be quiet. The soldiers are taking the machines and loading them onto the truck. They're probably taking them to be made into more weapons."

I rubbed my eyes and looked out. Several uniformed police had dismantled the machines, and were taking them from the sock factory and loading them onto the truck parked outside. "Those are not even theirs to take," said Kisa. "Those are ours ... We bought them with our hard-earned money from the Japanese merchants, who probably stole them from other Koreans!"

Mother was quiet. "Since when does ownership matter to the Japanese?" said Aunt Tiger. "They take whatever they need from us. What good are those machines to us now? I had hoped we could trade them in for some rice, but that was silly of me. Let the bastards take them all. What else can we do?"

I was glad to see the machines go. It would be too sad to look at them day after day. Too much had happened today. Soon the rain stopped and there was a cool breeze. I looked out at the stump of the pine tree and the empty sock factory. The front gate was wide open and swinging in the wind. No one bothered to close it. What was the sense? Those gates provided no privacy or security. I wished I had slept through the night. The grown-ups were relieved that we were safe and only prayed that things would not get any worse.

I sat in helpless silence and watched the dawn break. The sun rose like any other day. It shone brightly, as if it knew nothing of our sadness. I felt the bright sun was heartless and cruel to shine so derisively, and I shut my eyes in defiance.

Early one morning, Mother received a notice from one of Captain Narita's lieutenants. She stated at it blankly, and then put it in her pocket. I wondered what it meant. What mote could they do to us? She looked over at me, and sighed. "They say you must learn to be a loyal and obedient subject and work to bring victory in the war. We have to enroll you in the Japanese school tomorrow," she said. I knew Mother had hoped the war would end before Inchun and I had to go to the Japanese school.

The next morning, Mother prepared my lunch box for the first day of school. There was a little piece of egg next to some sweet black beans and a small scoop of glistening white rice. We usually ate porridge made from barley and millet, and I knew Mother must have been saving this white rice for a special occasion. It looked so delicious, and she had packed it in a beautiful wooden lunch box that Grandfather had carved a long time ago. It was a rectangular box made of pine, with a sliding top. On one side of the box was a groove in which a pair of wooden chopsticks was cleverly concealed. I pulled out the chopsticks and saw that there were rosebuds carved on them. The lunch box felt smooth and warm in my hands. Mother had gone to so much trouble for me.

"Aunt Tiger will take you to school," Mother told me as she mustered a smile. "Just be very quiet and attentive and do as they tell you. Say, 'Hai,
Sensei!
' (meaning 'Yes, Teacher') and you will be fine." The smile could hardly be sustained on her pale and feverish features. I tried to look happy about meeting some children my own age. I didn't want Mother to worry; I knew she was afraid for me.

Little Inchun stood quietly holding Mother's hand. He looked at me with great concern and said, "
Nuna
, remember not to speak one word of Korean and don't ask any questions. Just be quiet like me." I was startled to hear such wise advice from little Inchun. But I nodded, and smiled. He looked particularly pale and skinny that morning, but there was still that gentle twinkle in his big dark eyes. I thought of how Mother had always said that there was a wise old man living inside her little boy. I remembered how he always followed me like my silent little shadow. This would be the first time that we would be apart all day long, and I was sure that he would feel lost without me.

Aunt Tiger pulled me by the hand and rushed me out the door. "The Imperial police even took our clock," she muttered. "Everything we had has been melted down to make more weapons. 'What do Koreans need a clock for? They can guess by looking at the sun'... We better get going or we might be late for your first day."

The streets were quiet. We saw several students in their worn gray uniforms. As we approached the building, I felt more and more confused. I kept telling myself I could handle whatever they did to me, and I would do just as Mother said and say "Hal,
Sensei!
" no matter what. Most of all, I had to remember not to speak a word of Korean. I remembered how my older brother, Hyunchun, had come running home one day two years before, his forehead dripping with blood. As Mother held him and applied the bandage, Hyunchun told us through his tears, "I asked for a pencil in Korean and the teacher hit me with a metal ruler." I struggled to put this out of my mind, and tried to think of how nice it would be to make some friends my own age. Maybe I would make a friend that day. I could show her my pretty lunch box.

Aunt Tiger was unusually quiet. "Do you know who will teach me?" I asked.

"Yes, I think it will be Narita Sensei." My eyes opened wide with terror, and I stopped. The thought of seeing anyone having to do with Captain Narita sent shivers through me. "Yes," she said, "she is Captain Naritas wife and she has been teaching the first grade for many years." I said nothing. I was too frightened. She tried to comfort me. "I know her. Maybe I can see her and I'll tell her that you're my niece." We turned off the main street of Kirimni and walked down a long narrow road. "We have to speak Japanese now. People might hear us," she whispered. Now I really did not want to go. I could understand Japanese, but I had never spoken a word of it, and I didn't want to. I squeezed Aunt Tiger's hand and she squeezed mine back.

I thought of the chuckling Buddha that I had seen when I was at Grandfather's bedside; the little Buddha had made me feel happier when I had been so worried about Grandfather I needed to see this happy little Buddha again, and so I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard. I saw stars of many different colors, but I could not see the chuckling Buddha. I kept rubbing and rubbing my eyes. Suddenly, I saw a huge stone Buddha come falling through the starry skies. With a great crash, it landed right in front of me. I stared at tHe stone statue sitting so serenely. He looked like Grandfather. The other students in the street began to shout with glee and gather around the statue. The Japanese police and Captain Narita c a me running over and shouted at us They tried to move the statue, but it would not budge. The students clapped their hands and began rolling with laughter as they watched the Imperial police struggle fruitlessly The police mumbled and yelled They looked at each other then at the students and finally broke into laughter They laughed and laughed They took off their swords and guns and threw them by the side of the road.

Aunt Tiger shook me and said, "What's the matter? Come on, we have to keep going. What's that strange smile on your face? Why are you walking with your eyes closed like that? Do you feel all right?" I nodded my head and opened my eyes. I was sad that I could not continue my daydream, but I felt better. "I tell you, in all my days, I have never met two more unusual children than you and your little brother. Did you hear the advice that Inchun gave you? What a little old man! One minute you two are daydreaming children, and the next, you're wise old adults. I don't know what to make of you two anymore."

Up ahead loomed the big gray schoolhouse. High stone walls surrounded the building, and the gate was half closed. Aunt Tiger asked the guard if she could stay and speak to Narita Sensei. The uniformed guard laughed heartily. "You Korean peasant! You want to speak to our Imperial teacher!" Aunt Tiger's face turned red and she shouted in Korean, "Imperial teacher, haa! Narita Sensei used to sell fish in Hokkaido." I pushed her away and begged her to go as I watched the guard's jaw muscles tighten with fury. Mumbling under her breath, Aunt Tiger left me.

The students were standing in a series of straight lines, the boys on one side of the school yard and the girls on the other. I looked around and slipped into the middle of the line of girls by the wall in front of the sign that said "First Grade." Lined up in size order from little to big they stood at attention like little soldiers. I was afraid to go to the front where I belonged, and no one said a word to me. Along one wall were piles and piles of sand bags. Neatly arranged along the other wall was a row of bamboo sticks with sharpened points.

One girl then turned to me and whispered in Japanese, "Is this your first day?" I nodded my head and must have looked confused. "You don't speak Japanese?" I nodded my head again. The girl mumbled in Korean, "You are a strange one." I was delighted to hear her speak Korean and my face must have lit up. Encouraged by my response, she introduced herself. "My name is Unhi. I'm warning you, this is the last time you'll hear me speak Korean. We'll get in trouble if Narita Sensei hears us. You never know if someone will tattle to the teacher. Anyway you'd better move to the front where all the midgets are." She gave me a little push.

The other girls who were mutely standing in line looked at Unhi with displeasure. Unhi ignored them. Though her manner was gruff, I knew I had made a friend. I did not even have a chance to tell her my name. When I went to the front, a girl grabbed me. "You are shorter than I am. Come here." She was delighted to find someone shorter than she was, and I suddenly found myself at the head of the line. I hated being the first in line and stood there trembling.

The main doors of the schoolhouse were just ahead of me, and I saw all the teachers coming out and walking toward us. There were some young ones as well as several older ones wearing gold-rimmed glasses. I was anxious to see which one was our teacher. There was suddenly complete silence in the yard, and then a skinny boy in a gray uniform that seemed too big for him marched to the center of the yard and shouted in Japanese, "Attention!" Everyone stiffened. He shouted another command, and everyone bowed from the waist. A short thin woman in a dark blue and white Japanese kimono with a cherry blossom print stood directly in front of me. Her hair was carefully arranged in a bun that looked like a large doughnut sitting on top of her head. She looked me over from head to toe with disdain. I looked up at her before quickly forcing my gaze back to the ground. I knew they didn't like it when Koreans looked them in the eye. So this is Narita Sensei, I thought to myself. Her icy glare resembled her husband's, and she too wore gold-rimmed glasses.

The boy who had shouted the commands resumed his place in line. A thin older man mounted the podium in the center of the yard and shouted, "Face east." All the students turned to the right and faced a pedestal on which something sat shrouded by a curtain with a golden tassel. The man at the podium lifted a baton, and suddenly the familiar Japanese national anthem, the "
Kimigayo,
" came blaring over the loudspeaker. I knew the song by heart. I had learned it with my three older brothers after Hanchun had come back from his first day of school with bruises for not having known the words. I knew all the words, but I just mouthed them. I couldn't bring myself to speak the language of Captain Narita. Suddenly I realized Narita Sensei had bent down and put her ear next to my mouth. I tried to sing out, but I just couldn't. No sound would come forth. She glared at me and the sun reflecting off her gold-rimmed glasses blinded me. I cleared my throat hoping it would help, but still no sound I wished the song would stop but it on and on Narita Sensei jabbed me in the side with the ruler hidden in the sleeve of her kimono I started to cry I didn't know why I wasn't able to sing. I wanted to. I wanted to do whatever I was told just as Mother and Aunt Tiger had instructed me.

After the "
Kimigayo
" was finally over, a different hoy went to the center of the yard. He shouted, "Attention!" Then he bowed to the man at the podium. All the other students did the same. The man at the podium was Principal Watanabe. He clapped his hands and then walked over to the shrine on the pedestal and pulled the gold tope ceremoniously. Everyone looked up reverently as the curtain parted. He performed this duty as if it were the most sacred and important thing in his life. The curtain was slowly opened and behind it was a small wooden shrine. He then opened the little door. The Japanese god's image was enshrined there, but we couldn't anything. Everyone, including the teachers and the principal, stood at attention facing this shrine. We always faced east, for that was where the sun rises and the direction in which the Japanese Emperor's palace was situated in Japan.