FITTED HAWAII

My mother recently purchased this book from Borders, and the story that went along with it is, in my eyes, is just as amazing as the story that lays within. When she stumbled upon the book, she opened it and landed exactly on page 79, where she automatically recognized the name in the first paragraph: Toraji Yano: Gi-Chan. My great great grandfather; Moms’ grandfather, who I knew from stories, was interned in a prison for the Japanese during WWII. A truly inspiring story which has instilled new levels of pride and humility.

When tall, handsome teenager Toraji Yano left Japan for Hawai’i without his parents’ knowledge but with his elder brother’s approval, his chief objective was to learn English quickly.

But in October, 1906, when he walked off the Mongolia Maru, there were 264 others like him. Jobs as a houseboy or yardman for white families where one was bound to learn English were difficult to obtain. Finally, Toraji and his 19-year old cousin Masami Tomimatsu left for Kaua’i to work on a plantation.

Learning English was still his objective, so on Sundays he attended a Christian Church where the services were in English. At first he didn’t understand a word that was said, but the flow and cadence of the sermon fascinated him.

Gradually, as he listened to both the Japanese and English sermons, he began to put together what the preachers were saying. Ashamed of his reason for attending the English services, he quit attending in the mornings.

One evening, the English pastor visited him. “Toraji-san, you have stopped coming to our services. Why? We miss you.”

Embarrassed, Toraji admitted the truth. “I used to go because I wanted to learn English. But that is not what a church is for. A church talks about God. I’m not interested in God yet. I’m interested in learning English. But it would be selfish of me to go to God’s House for my own purposes.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Toraji-san. If you can learn even one word of English each time you come to church, how happy God would be. A church is for fellowship. A church is a place one can accept anything God gives. A church is not only for God; it is for made – for you, for me. May we see you again this Sunday?”

Toraji Yano was to remember that minister all his life. He left Kaua’i for Maui in 1908 and was baptized that year by Rev. Sidney Gulick, the same Rev. Gulick who 33 years later was to serve as Editor Yasutaro Soga’s character witness and for whose family the street Kumaji Furuya lived on and had been named.

Monday through Saturday, Yano was up at 4:30 a.m. He cooked, ate, and made his lunch; he walked miles to the area he was to work in that day. Then he stumbled home after 5:30. Those were grueling 10-hour work days. He ate chiefly dried codfish and rice, and slept on reed mats. One man had been in the islands for 15 years, and he had nothing to show for it. Was this what was going to happen to him too?

Being educated, strong, healthy and outgoing, he decided to quit plantation work. Fortunately, he found work in a store, where he carried out responsibilities over and above what was expected of him. One day, while such jobs were still difficult to obtain, he gained promotion over another man who had been at the store longer. The other man sent Yano a note, saying he wanted to meet him at the graveyard. Yano knew what this meant, but he was husky and he knew jujitsu. He was not afraid of fighting, but he didn’t want to settle problems that way.

“Why did you take my job” the man accused him at the graveyard. “I didn’t take your job. They offered it to me and I accepted it.”

“But if you hadn’t accepted, they’d have it offered it to me. I should have that job. I’ve worked there five years longer than you. I have seniority. You shamed me. You’re only a boy, and you can’t handle that level of job yet. Let’s fight!”

“OK, we can fight, but let’s talk first…Now, if we fight, we fight to the finish. One will lose and get hurt and maybe end up in the hospital or even die. The other man will win and maybe end up in jail. Definitely, both of us will lose our jobs. Either way, win or lose, we don’t have much of a future on this island, do we? Where will you go, if you win?”

The two men sat on gravestones of those who preceded them to Maui. The cool breeze and the cold tombstones sobered their tempers.

“I wonder who sleeps under this stone? Where did he come from? Why did he come here to Maui? Whom did he leave behind?”

After a few minutes, the other man put out his hand and Yano shook it. The man threw himself on the grass, as if still unhappy. Yano waited. Finally the man got up and shook Yano’s hand again and said, “You’re right, you know. For a young kid, you think. Maybe I can accept you as my superior because you’re mature and intelligent for your age.”

Together they walked home, taking about their future in the islands. Would they ever be able to save enough to return to Japan with money to buy a farm of their own?

Later, Yano was told that six of the other man’s friends had been hiding in the forest, waiting to fight Yano in case their friend lost. But Yano and the other man became life-long friends after that incident.

After Dec. 7th’s Pearl Harbor bombing, Yano was investigated at least four times. Once, he was asked, “Who do you want to win this war?”

“I want Japan to win, but I don’t want the United States to lose. After all this is my adopted country. I’ve lived here for 35 years, in Japan only 18. This is my country by choice. I don’t see why the two countries had to engage in war…”

“Nobody’s asking you for your opinion!” the interrogator thundered. “Just answer yes or no…all we want are one-word answers.”

“But one-word answers cannot provide the whole truth,” Yano insisted. “Silence! Weren’t you teaching part-time in a Japanese school? Don’t you think learning Japanese language and customs is a hindrance to Americanization? Surely you can answer those two questions with ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“One-word answers won’t give you the whole picture. I taught Japanese for one hour a day, yes. But we didn’t teach obedience to Japan. Why should we? These children are American citizens, unlike us who can’t get citizenship. We had these children for one hour, and the English schools had them for six hours a day. Isn’t it logical…”

“You talk too much!” The interrogator slammed an open manila folder shut. On the day his case was decided, he saw his Red Cross badge, Japanese song books, his brother’s picture taken in Korea, and his wife’s brother’s photographs in a Navy officer’s uniform. So these were proof of his disloyalty to the United States!

“Do you want to be interned or go home?” he was teased. “Of course I want to go home.” “Of course I want to go home,” the interrogators mimicked.

Taken to Ha’iku Camp, he met Shodo Kawamura, the Rev. Shoten Matsubayashi, Shigeru Terada, Tetsuji Hanzawa and other prominent Maui residents. He realized being interned was not a disgrace, for he was among Maui’s Japanese community leaders.

During the following weeks and months, others were sent to Honolulu, but Yano was kept at Ha’iku. His responsibility was to pack the items an internee left when he was shipped off and send the carton to the internee’s family.

One night Yano and the men heard whimpers and moans, together with exasperated shouts by the MPs. What was taking place? Then four or five guards opened the door and dragged a man into the barrack. “Anyone know him?”

No one dared answer. After all, no one knew what the man’s crime was, and admitting knowing the man before knowing his crime might endanger their lives too. Then Yano said, “I know him.” “Take him and quiet him down.” They left the man shivering with fright. Yano told the man, “I’m Yano of Wailuku. You needn’t be afriad here. You’re among friends.”

The man grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. Finally Yano was able to drag him to his own cot and said, “This is my bed. Here’s a blanket. Try to rest.” Still the man trembled, so Yano sat by him until the man fell asleep. In the morning, Yano learned that the terrified man was the third strongest sumo wrestler in his district. His crime: a light had been visible in one of his windows. There was a huge mango tree shading the house, making the light invisible to enemy planes or ships, but an overzealous warden had “carried out his duty.” Three days later, the man was released.

One day, as kitchen helper, Yano came across a bag of spoiled sweet potatoes in the storeroom. While dumping the contents into a refuse drum, he found two of the potatoes looked quite good. He requested and received permission to take the two potatoes to his barrack. He sliced off the rotted portion and put the potatoes in a basin filled with quarter-inch of water. Soon the potatoes sprouted eyes. Day by day, Yano and his barrack mates examined the plants and urged them to grow. Then, when the vines began to form, Yano got two pieces of wood and nailed them into a cross, then to a heavy base. He lovingly tied the shoots to the cross, and in a month he had a Christmas tree.

Next, all the men cooperated in saving tin foil from cigarette packs. They made decorations from the foil – tiny stars, balls, triangles, even angels – which they attached as ornaments to their Christmas tree. One day, a senior official passed by the barrack, saw the tree, and asked, “Why do you have a Christmas tree? And this is June…”
“Because I’m a Christian, and we can have the spirit of Christmas anytime in the year…” “But you’re Japanese. You must be Buddhists. I hear loud praying from the barracks…” “Oh, that’s Rev. Matsubayashi. He’s a Buddhist but I’m a Christian. Baptized in 1908. 34 years ago. Before you were born.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m a Christian too. Again we live in a time when I’m a guard and you’re the enemy. But I know you Japanese in Hawai’i are not our real enemy. You’re only a symbol of the enemy because you happen to have Japanese blood. Please forgive me if I have to give you unpleasant orders.”

“That’s OK. You have your duty as Army officers. We hold nothing against you or the other guards personally. Keeping us here is not your decision. Some of us are frustrated at not being able to be useful people, especially in the prime of our lives. But most of us are not bitter. Depressed, yes. But we have discussed among ourselves the reasons for being interned. We are the scapegoats. We are willing to be that if the Japanese can live normally.”

Within a few months, Yano was quietly paroled. And Ha’iku camp, an unhappy experience for many, was only another opportunity for Yano to express his love and faith in Christ. His baptism, in 1908, had been the most rewarding, the most meaningful act in his life; he believed fully and deeply in Christ’s love and tried to follow in his footsteps. The minister of Kaua’i, who had taught him a few words and sentences in English so many years ago, had taught him more than that. He had given Yano the desire and the ability to love others.”