Sado island - toshiyuki ihira (cool books to read txt) 📗

here to see the gold mine, right? And we find a story about silver produced in the very same mine. This trip turned out to be worthwhile. I think I write an article on this.”
“Silver? In the gold mine? … Huh, … I know a story about miners in California, who buried silver expecting it to turn into gold.”
(“Hu, … She is not interested in what I have to say. Her thought is wandering.”) I give a sideway peek at her. No hint of sarcasm. “You know why they buried silver back in the ground? Often times, silver is found along gold in the same vein. That's why they thought if they bury silver and wait, it will become gold. … No, no. That's not it. Weren't you listening?”
“I am not a writer. Your line of thinking is not easy to follow for me. You are always looking for a hidden speck of a story. I only see obvious.” She gives a big yawn. And raising her arms high in the air, arching her back.
(“Oh, she yawns a lot.”) “Well, I guess that's what I like about you. If you are like me, I don't think our relationship can last.” I look at her with a side way glance again and see her staring at me.
“Just spill. Do you know why I like you? With you, I don't have to go out to find a human side of life. You do it for me. And I can't stop you from telling me about it.”
“ … I don't want to argue again. O.k.? … I thought we had an understanding on this. You keep your scientist's attitude and I won't encroach on it. You let me keep my writer's mind, right?”
“ … .“ She doesn't say anything, just staying still and looking toward me gently then she moves her gaze away from me and start to look at her surroundings in the cafeteria.
“Sorry. … You know, I think I have an inferiority complex. … What you do can make a difference in this world. What I do is only words no matter how hard I try at it. I can't change that.” I turn toward her and look at her straight.
Now she is the one glancing at me with her side way look. “I am interested. I yawned because I am interested. My brain needed more oxygen to listen to you and I am not going to pamper you. Just tell me the rest of the story.” She gives me a side way glance again.
“FYI, I don't need to be pampered. I am proud of what I have done and I will keep doing what I do. … Well, kind of. … Yeah, sorry. I hate myself when I am like this.” … “Yeah. Right. I am thinking, … You saw the mold for silver ingot on the display in the museum. That's the shape of the ingot Chinese used to pass around their silver was in. The ingots they passed around came from this gold mine. This local lord contributed to their hyperinflation. … No. The point is he had an influence in the world affairs even though he was just a local lord here. That's what impressed her. That's the center of the story. … Well, it's not cut and dry. I can't attribute how much influence he had though. Chinese mismanagement of their economy at the time is a folklore. And Spanish story of their bankruptcies are kind of well told story, too. But, Chinese were passing around his, this local lord's silver ingot and Spanish had a trouble getting their ships back from pacific. Some captains of those ships refusing to hand over their ships unless they get paid their due is in the history book, too. … I just have to weave a story around them, I think.”
“I don't remember reading that in a school history book.”
“Yeah, that's exactly it. This story may be a footnote but worth being told. Only someone like her trying to find a value of her existence on this island can connect things.” I am pumped up. A structure of my article is gelling in my head.
The TV in the cafeteria turned to a bulletin. It is breaking into a story of Japanese abductees who were kidnapped by North Korean agents back in 1970s and 80s. It is telling a tale of an American deserter in North Korea, Mr. Jenkins. … “ … He is married to a Japanese woman who was kidnapped from Sado island with her mother in 1978. They have children … “
“What? … Sado island … is this Sado island, right?” I look at her in amazement listening to the news on TV.
“Is there another Sado island here in Japan. Of course, it's this Sado island. Wow, I can't imagine being kidnapped at such young age. She was just a teen ager.” Everyone in the cafeteria is mesmerized of how extra ordinary the arc of the news are and this very island is a part of that news.
News of kidnapped women are on the lips of tourists on the bus for the rest of the tour. No one paid much attention to anything any more.


Months later.
“Come. Watch this. Abductees are here. They landed at Narita.” She is calling out to me. I am fixing snacks in our kitchen. I drop everything and scamper over to our living room. The airplane is taxing and about to park at the terminal.
I am glued to the TV showing the plane just moving slowly about. “So, they are on that plane. I wonder how they are feeling coming back to their birth place after so many decades. You know most of them spent more of their years over in North Korea than years they spent here.”
She takes her eyes off TV and looks at me. “Fix me some snack. It will be some time before they disembark. And I want some tea.” She gives me her meek, pleading look. I always have to do what she wants when she gives me that look.
“Yeah. I am almost done with making snacks. I boil water for tea.” I walk back toward the kitchen. “Jenkins-san isn't on that plane, right? Just 5 abductees coming home?” I ask her over my shoulder on my way to the kitchen. I knew that but still what is happening hasn't sank into my head. I can't believe it that the whole thing is happening right in front of us like this.
“No, he isn't on that plane. You know he is facing the court martial, isn't he? He stayed behind with his children. He has children together with that girl from Sado. … You know I am more fascinated with children. Some of them don't even speak Japanese, do they? Much less know how life is here. I wonder if they ever want to come here. Some of them are old enough to decide for themselves not to come. All these abductees coming here are here for a visit, right? They are going to go back to North Korea again. News are filled with all the jubilations of having them back here and all that. I don't know. Something is just odd about all this. You know putting their visit as just a temporary trip. They are coming home after so many years. Do you think they will go back to North Korea? It's like what has happened has no relevance and everything is fine.”
“Yeah. I smell a rat, too. The government spokesman isn't telling us everything, I think. Japanese culture is centered around one blood. The national flag is the symbol of that one blood, right? I think it's a ruse, calling their visit just a visit. Japanese government is framing it that way to bring them out of North Korea, I think.” I give a shout out from the kitchen. “Let's see what happens when their visiting days run out.”
“You are filled with the excitement of the entire event, just like everyone else.” She peels away from TV and looks over her shoulder and gives me a scolding frown.
I stroll over with snacks in hands. (“She is smelling a rat and her dislike of politics is showing.”) During the short walk from the kitchen to the living room I let tension in my body go out, so it is easier for me to be more amiable. “You know we will take care of them, right? That means they are staying. Only snag in that is they will be separated from their family back in North Korea. If they stayed and North Korean government get mad at them for not coming back, they will never see their children and family. They will be hurt all over again. Maybe they didn't chose to have a family over there but they do now, though.” I place finger sized sandwiches on the table and go back for the tea cups.
“I am thinking of that 13 year old girl. They say she committed suicide. I can understand that but the way they say it is so … It's like they are talking about a lost dog or something.”
I carry a tea pot and cups and set them on the table and take the seat across from her. The TV is switched over to a terminal scene, aimed at the exit of the walkway from the plane into the terminal. “Yeah. But if you go there and start focusing on her, we will only get angry and that makes us unable to welcome these people coming back home.”
“Yes, yes. I know. We want things to turn out o.k. But I can't pretend everything is fine. It makes me feel ants are crawling all over me.” She picks up her tea cup and take a sip. This - people play too much game and not being straight forward enough - is her gripe. Yeah, we all lived long enough to know how things really are and keep playing our game regardless.
“I am interested in how Jenkins-san is doing. He can spend rest of his life in prison if convicted of treason by the United State government. North Korean's power over him isn't the only problem for him. He has two governments over his head. Do you think he can make some kind of a deal with the United State to let him live in quiet? He can really use some kind of pardon since he has his family now. I am sure he doesn't want to be separated from them.” I look at her, taking my eyes off TV. There is nothing happening now on TV.
“Ha, … You are not trying to bag me, are you? I don't know what kind of a deal is made in a situation like this. I don't care about politicians and their escapade. Making a quick trip back and forth, supposed to be making a deal of some kind that make them a hero. Right?” Her - do what you want, I don't care - but cordial attitude is starting to come out. She snatches up a finger size sandwich and bite into it.
“... They are coming out of the plane. Let's see how they look.” TV is suddenly alive. We both turn to TV. I feel tense. “ … Wait, wait, ah, they are coming. They are finally here on their birth land after decades of captivity and hardship.” People coming out into view look like any other ordinary tourists. There is no “we just escaped imprisonment” air about them. They look ordinary, too ordinary for this occasion. They have a look of