War of the Eagles (26 page)

As I walked over to the cupboard, my mind raced outside to be with Naani. I wanted to follow, but I knew she was going out there to think. Smitty chose the tea he wanted. He didn't care what he drank, as long as it didn't smell like “perfume.” We sat in silence until the whistling of the kettle announced the water was ready.

I poured a little bit of the boiling water into the teapot, rolled it around to get the teapot all warm, and then dumped the water down the drain. I put the leaves of the tea inside the tea ball, put it in the pot and poured in the water. Just as I put the empty kettle down, I heard the front door open. Smitty eyed me with a “what now?” expression. I wished I had the answer to his question.

“Jed,” Naani called, “when you and Smitty finish you come help.”

“Help?” Smitty and I said in unison.

We rushed to our feet. We moved to the door and were greeted at the threshold by the sight of my Naani holding the mantle clock.

“House not too big. Better make sure we put things in a safe place.”

Then my cousin Jonnie came in carrying a sleeping mat.

“Hi, Jed, nice buck.”

“Thanks, Jonnie,” I answered. “It was a hard kill.”

No sooner had I finished replying when the door opened again and Peter pushed in with another one of the mats.

“Hi, Jed. You did the right thing.” For Peter that was practically a speech.

They both nodded to Smitty.

“Come on, put that stuff down in Jed's room and get moving,” Naani chided. “If I know you fellas, you's all stand there gabbing and let the old woman do all the work.”

In a matter of only a few minutes we unloaded every–thing, while Naani remained inside directing. As we worked we were joined by another half-dozen of my relatives, some of whom watched, but most carried at least one thing inside. I introduced Smitty to each of them as they came forward. With the last item inside, I excused Smitty and myself, explaining we had to get back with the buck right away, so we wouldn't get into trouble. We climbed into the buggy and started along the path to the camp.

“Aren't you afraid somebody's going to tell what you did?” Smitty asked.

“Nope. I can't even imagine that.”

“I guess it helps when most of them are relatives.

Cripes, it seems like you're related to almost everybody in the whole village,” Smitty commented.

“Not almost everybody … everybody.”

“Everybody?”

“Everybody. My Naani can explain how we're all related. She can tell stories about everybody's ancestors for three generations back, and then stories from the beginning of her people.”

“Her people? Don't you mean your people?”

“Yeah … I guess that is what I mean.”

Smitty slowly shook his head and a smile came to his face. “Must be nice, Jed, must really be nice.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“You know, to have a place like this … where you belong.”

.20.

“Naani, I'm home!” I yelled as I came in from school.

“Hello, Jed,” she answered as she came out of the kitchen. Sometimes I swear she lives in there. If I didn't come home, she'd curl up on the table and go to sleep right there beside the stove.

“Anything good to eat?”

“Always. Look in the ice box. School's supposed to make you smarter. With you I only see it making you hungry.”

“Are you kidding, old woman, learning is what makes a guy hungry. I learned so much today I could eat a bear.”

“The eating part I see. Feel like learning some more today?”

“Naw, I don't think you have enough food in the house.”

“Okay,” she replied, walking across the room away from me. “If you don't want to learn what's in this let–ter, that's okay.”

“Letter! A letter from Dad?”

She held it aloft in her hand. “A letter, yes. From your Dad, no.”

“From who? Who sent me a letter?” I raced across the room with my hand outstretched and she stuffed the envelope into the pocket of her apron.

“We won't find out ‘til tomorrow, what with you being all learned out and us not having a bear for you to eat.”

“Naani! Come on!”

She chuckled, pulled the letter back out and handed it to me. I recognized the handwriting instantly. It was from Tadashi. I tore open the envelope, ripping the corner of the letter. I was about to start reading it, when I glanced up and saw her still hovering around.

“How about if I read it out loud?”

“If you want.”

I knew she wanted me to. “Okay, here I go.”

Dear Jed,

Sorry I didn't have a chance to write earlier but it's
not so easy to send a letter. All mail, in and out, is
read by the soldiers who guard us. I've seen what
they do to letters. They use big markers and just black
out anything they don't think anybody should know.
They don't think anybody should know anything. I
got away for an hour and mailed this from a mailbox
away from the park so they couldn't get their hands
on it.

That's right, I'm living in a park; Hastings Park,
in Vancouver. I always thought Vancouver would be
pretty exciting. Mostly what we see are the fences sur
–
rounding the park. You can get out if you're sneaky,
but we're supposed to stay inside. Besides, my parents
don't think it's safe to be Japanese and out in the
city. The newspapers are full of stories of the war and
they're afraid we might be attacked on the streets.

After the trip down here I don't fear getting attacked.
Nothing could be worse than what we went through.
It took us fifteen days. All the fishing boats were tied
together behind two navy frigates. There were sixty
boats. The seas were heavy and there was a lot of fog.

Our boat became covered in ice from the spray. We
had to chip it off. The only place to get away from the
cold and spray was in the cabin. You know how small
that is, but somehow we managed to find places to
sleep. There were times I wasn't sure we'd make it.

I heard afterwards they probably brought our boat up
to the Annieville Dyke on the Fraser River. Somebody
told me they have twelve hundred Japanese fishing
boats all tied up there. I think it causes my father
great distress to know how his boat is being cared
for—or really uncared for. He said if he knew what
was going to happen to it he would have sunk it
himself.

The boat ride prepared us for living in a small space.
My family has been given a stall to live in. I don't
mean a small place. I mean a stall. We're living in
the place where they used to show livestock. All of us
families have been given a separate stall, and we've
hung blankets and things to act as curtains. So I
guess if somebody ever asks me if I was raised in a
barn, I can answer yes.

I can kid about it, but it really steams me to be treated
like cattle. A lot of us, mostly Canadian born, are
really angry. There's a lot of talk about a protest, or
petition or civil disobedience, or something. Nothing
has come of it. My father tells me not to get involved.
None of the Issei seem to want to get involved.

My father is typical of how they're acting. He walks
around with his eyes on the ground. Best I can make
out he feels shamed by his treatment. Can you imagine
that? These people make us leave our homes, and he fig
–
ures he's the one who should be ashamed! The people
who should feel ashamed are those politicians who
ordered our internment and the RCMP officers who
did it. So much for democracy and the British sense of
fair play. Can you tell me where the fairness is?

I don't know for sure, but I figure there must be close
to five thousand people living here. They cook big
meals for all of us or we can fix some things in our
stall. There's only a couple of showers and a few more
washrooms for the whole place.

There isn't much to do. When the weather changes
there'll be more things. There's a baseball diamond,
some woods and a soccer field. Fortunately, or maybe
not so fortunately, we probably won't be here when
that happens.

There's lots of rumors going around. I heard they're
going to ship us across Canada, away from the coast.
Another rumor is that we're bound for Japan. Some
other people said the war will be over before spring
comes and they'll let us go home. Another rumor is
that we don't even have homes to go to, our houses
were being taken apart by looters. Other talk is that
we don't even own the homes any more, that the gov
–
ernment is taking them away. Who knows? It would
make me feel better if you could just go by my place,
and make sure everything is okay. You can write me
back at Hastings Park, Exhibition Building, Vancou
–
ver. Please tell me how you're doing and how things
are going around Rupert.

Your friend always,
Tadashi

p.s. You'll get another letter from me in a day. That's
so the censors will see me writing to you and won't get
suspicious when you write back.

p.p.s. Be careful what you write. They read all the
letters coming in as well as going out.

p.p.p.s. They got me acting like I really am a spy.

“That's it.”

“A stall … that don't seem right … treating them like cattle,” she said as she shook her head soulfully.

I felt a sense of rage inside of me.

“Who you angry at?” she asked.

“I'm not …” I started to lie, “… I mean I don't know.”

Maybe she couldn't read a letter but she could read a person's spirit like it was an open book.

“Don't get sad and mad, all confused. You got to tell him about what's happening. You got to answer his questions.”

“I know. I just don't know how to do it.”

“Just tell him,” she replied.

“I can't. I mean, even if I can put it into words okay, those censor guys wouldn't let him read it. Besides, if they read about me taking all his family's stuff, then I could get in big trouble. Smitty and you too. How can I let him know?”

“Ha … don't worry. You got yourself a smart Naani.

I figure it out while you write him.”

“I wish I could be that sure.”

“Jed, have I ever let you down?”

“Well …” actually she never had. “No.”

“Sit, write, I get you a little food to help your brain work.” She retreated to her kitchen.

“Start your letter by saying we figured out to get this letter to him so nobody gonna know,” she yelled from the kitchen.

I pulled a note pad and a pen out of my pack. I walked over to the couch and leaped into the air. The springs groaned loudly as I landed.

“Take it easy on the furniture!” she hollered.

I started to write.

Dear Tadashi,

We figured out a way to write to you so the censors
wouldn't see it. I was really glad to get your letter.
I'm sorry about how things worked out and about
where you're living. Things here aren't the same
without you. School is more boring, although with
all the Japanese gone, the teachers now see me as
being a good student. Hard to imagine, me a good
student. I spend more time at home now that they
hired a second cook.

My mom and Naani are okay. I still worry about my
father. He writes letters and tells us there's nothing to
worry about, but I know what he's doing is about as
dangerous as you can get. I'm also very proud of him. I
heard, not from him, of course, that he's an ace, which
means he's shot down at least five enemy planes.

I keep an eye out for Eddy. I haven't seen him, but one
of the guards is sure he saw him.

I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you, but some of
those rumors are true. I was out at your village two
weeks ago. I was tracking a big buck. I got into the
village and found some guys breaking into the houses.
I chased them off, but they said they'd be back. I heard
from the soldiers that looting has been taking place all
over. Major Brown said the RCMP doesn't have the
people to stop them. Anyway, I figured that though I
couldn't stop everything, I could stop them from taking
your stuff. I went and collected a lot of your belongings,
things I thought your family would want. They're safe
and I'll get them to your family as soon as you know
where you're going to.