Chapter 1
TIME: 8:00 AM, 1941 DECEMBER 7TH
LOCATION: SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
PEARL HARBOR HAS BEEN BOMBED AND AMERICA IS GOING INTO MASS HYSTERIA
Pearl Harbor shocked all of America. At exactly 8:00 AM Pacific Standard Time, America was informed of the bombing. Loud on the radio, a man informed every home that America what had happened. How many had died. How many had survived. This meant war. And at exactly 8:01, America became enemies with Japan.
This was the exact time all Japanese American’s lives turned upside down.
“AMERICA IS NOW BEING CALLED TO WAR. THERE IS NO STOPPING THIS, JAPAN HAS CHOSEN TO PICK A FIGHT AND WE WILL FOLLOW THEIR CALL,” a voice said over the radio. The Himura family listened closely, closing their eyes, trying to understand.
“アメリカは今、戦争に召されている。これを止めることはできません、日本は戦いを選ぶことを選びました、そして私たちは彼らの呼びかけに従います、” a little girl wrote down on a piece of paper, translating the incident for her parents. Her brown eyes focused on the letters, trying not to miss a single word. She looked no older than five years old and had long black hair that went down her back. Her pencil would slip if she missed a word or two, and she would not be able to get farther than two sentences without falling behind. After a moment of frustration, she says in a small voice, “Kāsan, son’nani hayaku hon’yaku dekinai yo.” Roughly translated, she said she was incapable of translating the radio.
Her mother nodded and got up. “Japan… no good. Bad people now.” The young girl nodded, a sign to her mother that she both agreed and understood her English.
“America safe. We safe,” her father responded, standing up. “No worry. We come here to safe.”
It took only a day for the Himuras to see major changes in their neighbors’ treatment towards them.
TIME: 7:00 AM, 1942 JANUARY 5th
LOCATION: SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
Kindergarten was a privilege, and one that Asaka Himura enjoyed greatly. She stood out like a sore thumb, her tan skin against her classmates’ white, but that had never bothered her. Not until now. She walked in and her eyes scanned the classroom. Her teacher wasn’t in the room, and no one else was either. She had come an hour early to reach her classroom in safety. She walked over to her desk that was pushed into the corner, separated from the rest of her classmates’ desks. On it was scribbled gibberish in faux Japanese, and insults in English that Asaka couldn’t quite understand. She grabbed some spray and cloth and scrubbed her desk until there were on faint tracings that they were ever there.
And then Asaka sat there. Reading. Writing. Just trying to learn and practice. Maybe one day she would be American enough for her town. For her city. She just had to keep writing.
The students filed in shortly after a loud bell rang, saying school was starting. The kids were loud and playing around until their teacher came in. “Settle down, children,” a motherly voice said, per usual. “Today we learn addition.”
The students, including Asaka, started the day by saying the pledge. Asaka had always said the pledge to the flag, no questions asked. If she didn’t, she would tell herself she wasn’t loyal enough to her country. This country took her parents in. That was all that mattered. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, individual and justice for all.” It took a while for Asaka to learn what she was actually saying, but when she did know, pride grew in her chest every time she said it.
“Ok, students, let us begin with English. What is the first letter of the alphabet?” the teacher said.
And so the school day began.
TIME: 12:00 PM, 1942 JANUARY 5th
LOCATION: BAY PARK ELEMENTARY, SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
Lunch was always exciting for Asaka. She grabbed her bento that her parents had made for her and found a place to sit against the wall. Her bento was full of traditional Japanese food, from sushi to onigiri. Her attention was pulled from her food when a larger boy came up to her.
“Hey ugly what do you have for lunch?” the boy said, contempt dripping from his tone. Asaka looked down and then up at him.
“Sushi.”
“Will that sushi taste good with dirt?”
Asaka had to take a second to translate this to Japanese, as that was the language of her household. “Uhm… I’m sorry I don’t understand.” The boy smirked, and picked up Asaka’s bento, dumping the content into the mud.
“That’s what I was asking you Japanese freak.” Asaka’s eyes watered, her food inedible now. Without a word, she stood up and gathered her food, putting it back in the bento and going into the bathroom. She put her bento under running water, trying to get most of the mud off, but the rice fell apart making her bento an absolute disaster. With a sad look, she walked over to the trash can and dumped it out.
“Arigato, Mama, Papa.”
Another school day where she would go hungry.
