Inland Sea Life in the Showa Era
Amy Chavez

Fumiko twittered over to the genkan with arms pressed down at her sides and hands jutting out to the sides like little wings. Wearing a simple button down blouse and gingham pants, she bent at the waist in a deep Japanese bow. Of course, I don’t warrant such a deep bow but Fumiko treats all people like this, as if they are esteemed guests of the upper echelons of society.

I did not know Fumiko very well, so rather than just showing up on her doorstep, I made an appointment through her daughter-in-law the last time I was at the grocery store. “Sure,” Keiko had said, while tallying up my apple and yogurt at the register. “But you better book in quick because the summer starts next week and she’ll be too busy after that.” Keiko made a quick call on her cellphone and pressed her chin on her right shoulder to secure the phone while giving me my change with both hands. Then she gave a nod and said, “How about tomorrow morning?”

And so there I was, standing in the genkan being welcomed by the gracious Fumiko whose Japanese was so polite it poured from her geranium red lips like honey off a honey dipper.

I always find appointments rather awkward, but Fumiko was perfectly at ease. She ushered me in and sat me down at the table in front of the window where an old wrinkled pine tree stretched a lazy arm across the windowpane. Fumiko alighted on the chair opposite me.

A woman smocked in Hello Kitty, brought iced coffee and cheesecake on a tray and set it down in front of us. Then with perfect posture, hands gently folded on her lap, Fumiko started speaking in her melodious voice, and continued without interruption:

“So you want to know about the grocery store, right? Well, in 1945, my husband’s parents had just returned from China. My husband’s father was in the police force in Japan, and they had been transferred to China during the Pacific War to help out with law enforcement. At the end of WWII, they were repatriated but when they came back they had absolutely nothing but the clothes on their backs. Having been gone so long, they didn’t even own a vegetable plot anymore so they had no food to eat.  

There were many horror stories about the Japanese who were sent to China. Some died because of the horrific conditions. I heard of one woman who was on the train when one of the bridges was bombed. While the train was waiting on standby she gave birth right there on the train and the other passengers had to pull the baby out! So I know my husband’s parents really lived through difficult times.

Of course they didn’t have a job to come back to either, as Japan was in ruins after the war. To support themselves they started making tofu here on Shiraishi Island, selling it door to door. At that time, the island didn’t have paved roads like now so when they carried the tofu on bamboo poles over their shoulders they had to trudge over narrow mountain paths. They walked all over the island of course, but in those days rock mining was going strong on the back side of the island, so they sold a lot of tofu to the workers over there at lunchtime.

My mother-in-law’s side of the family had an extra house on the island so they started a store there in 1954. That building was across from the old movie theater but now we use it as a warehouse. Then they bought the building next door and moved the store there, where it still is today.

Childhood

My father worked on the next island over where he washed crane machinery. My mother tilled the vegetable gardens with my grandmother here at home. Young people who weren’t married yet, and children like myself who were still in elementary school, helped out in the gardens. We also were in charge of carrying buckets of sludge from the toilets to fertilize the gardens.

Everyone grew vegetables back then, mostly barley and potatoes, because we could sell those things for cash to the JA [Japan Agricultural Association]. Rice was distributed by the government, even rice not made in Japan. But there was never enough rice, so islanders had no choice but to grow barley and potatoes. We ate an awful lot of barley and potatoes,” she repeated, laughing while covering her mouth with her cupped hand.

“We had a big family—I was one of five kids—so I had to help my parents. At that time we needed to heat the bath water, so we children helped collect fallen pine needles to burn as fuel. We’d canvass the mountain areas and bundle up needles in bags which we’d sling over our backs. There was a mountain right next to our house, but it was private land so we couldn’t collect pine needles there. We went to areas further away. But others also went to those same places so you had to get out there early before anyone else! We never had enough fuel, so even if there was just a tiny breeze we’d rush out to the mountain and collect the needles that fell.

We had enough water for our daily lives because we had a well that we pumped by hand. But we still had to carry the buckets of water from the well to the bath, even after the war. Those who didn’t have wells had to ask their neighbors to let them use their bath. Of course, no one had much money, so rather than paying, they might take some wheat, or fuel. We didn’t share our bath often because we already had a big family.

People just helped each other in those days. We were busy every day just surviving. My childhood home is still here, but the house is empty now.

Arranged Marriage

We didn’t have money to go on to higher education from high school, so as soon as I graduated I went to Osaka. I owned hardly anything, so I left with just one bag.

For two years I was an “office lady.” It was so much fun! When I was in Osaka I was free and I could do whatever I pleased whenever I pleased. I lived in my uncle’s house so I didn’t have to pay rent. I hardly made any money, but that’s how I lived. It was great. I was young. Even without money we went to many places and still enjoyed ourselves.

Then my parents called me back to the island. They wanted me to get married and they had set up everything. Back here, I felt like I’d fallen into Hell. I was only 20 when I married and it changed my life completely. I was so sad. I had to get up every morning at 5 a.m. to make tofu and then work till late at night. Then from 9 p.m, I had to prepare the bath for all the family members and do the laundry. Then we’d all get up in the morning and make tofu again.

Both my mother and father-in-law worked so hard in the tofu industry, waking up early every day and carrying the heavy tofu that after a while it took a toll on their health. So they decided to look for an easier job. There were boats leaving from Kobe and Osaka delivering goods back and forth down the Seto Inland Sea. So they managed to get jobs on the boats. But the person who arranged the work for them took most of the money, so although they worked they didn’t make any money. They had been tricked. They accumulated a lot of debt.

The Store

I started working at the grocery store as soon as I married into the family. At that time soy sauce, vinegar, and miso were weighed and charged per gram, so you only bought as much as you needed that day. In those days people didn’t have much purchasing power. The variety of goods were paltry so most people lived very simply on fried food, tofu and konyaku which they bought and took home in their own vessels. We didn’t have any luxury foods nor many sweets. Even senbei rice crackers were sold one by one. In the old days the store was open until 9 p.m. at night and during Obon, until 10 p.m. We had very little free time.

Everything was brought over from the markets in Kasaoka. There was a middleman who worked with wholesalers and retail shops and would send the goods over on the passenger ferry. We’d go and pick up the goods at the port in a riyaka wheeled cart.

Not long after I married, my mother-in-law died. My husband’s father immediately remarried a woman who didn’t lift a finger to help. So I was the one who had to do everything. After three months I lost ten kilograms! It wasn’t because of stress—it was because of fear. My in-laws yelled at me all the time even when I tried my best to do things diligently and pleasantly.

I had a child right away too. With the first child I couldn’t sleep at night so I was so tired and miserable. But my husband’s parents never helped me at home nor with the shop. I did it all, including cooking all the meals. I had become their servant.

But that’s how the times were and there was nothing I could do about it. Nowadays, women don’t put up with this kind of treatment. If I were a little smarter, I wouldn’t have either. But once you have children, you can’t leave. So, that’s just how I lived,” she said through a jeweled smile.

“When I was growing up, we didn’t have anything. We wore dirty clothes and we had no new clothes to change into. We had fleas in our hair but we picked them out of each other’s heads for amusement. We didn’t have toys to play with so we entertained ourselves with games like with ishi koroke with stones. We played oni gokko tag. Whatever we did we made a lively time of it. My grandkids don’t seem to have as much fun, just staring into smartphones all day long. I know times change, but I wonder how fun can that be?”

****

When I said goodbye to Fumiko that day, I felt that this charming woman who had opened up her heart with such sangfroid, was not just speaking for herself but for entire generations of Japanese who lived through WWII and the first half of the Showa era. She taught me that the current luxury and abundance was born from that sadness and pain and she encouraged me to consider that this balance may be the essence of a fulfilled life.

The next day, I was walking down the road when someone on a motor scooter came to a halt next to me. At first I didn’t recognize her in her helmet and dark glasses but those geranium red lips were unmistakably hers. “That was so much fun yesterday,” Fumiko said. “Let’s do it again sometime. I have some more stories I think you’d like to hear.”  To which I responded, “Lovely. How about tomorrow?”

Amy Chavez is an author and columnist. This is an excerpt from her work-in-progress on the lives of the people living in the Seto Inland Sea during the Taisho and Showa eras.