CrossCurrents

The history of the flowering cherry trees in Vancouver, according to the Park Board, goes back to the early 1930’s when the Board started a series of extensive cherry tree plantings, using mostly saplings that were donated from Japan. In those happy pre-World War II days, the cities of Kobe and Yokohama, among others, presented the Board with 500 cherry trees for planting at the Canadian Japanese War Memorial in Stanley Park, dedicated to Nikkei Canadian soldiers who fought and died for their country in World War I. It is located just west of the present Aquarium.

After WWII in 1958, as reported in the inaugural issue of the JCCA Bulletin, Japanese Consul Muneo Tanabe officially presented 300 cherry trees as “an eternal commemoration of good friendship between our two nations.” These trees were planted along Cambie “boulevard” between 49th and 33rd avenues, in Queen Elizabeth Park and, again, around the Stanley Park war memorial.

The fact that the planting of cherry trees in various locations continued through the 40s and the 50s—even as the forced relocation of Nikkei Canadians went on during and after WW II up to 1949—seems to reflect the growing appreciation on the part of nature-loving locals for the splendid springtime blossoms, regardless of their cultural significance to Nikkei and Japanese people.

Following the gross injustice of internment and property confiscation and the belated permission to return to Vancouver and lower mainland, the 1950s must have been a period of renewed hardship amidst residual racial discrimination for many in the Nikkei community here, as I only know from some secondary sources.

But headlines like “Fireworks from Japan” and “Sakura from Japan” in the inaugural issue also suggest a palpable spirit of renewed hope. The 50s also marked a fresh start, picking up the pieces and rebuilding lives looking to a relatively brighter future. They regained basic rights they had been deprived of, like being able to work in any job one’s qualified for, able to study for such a goal, able to live wherever one can afford to and able to vote. In the background, both Canada and Japan were at peace, their economies respectively thriving and about to thrive in the US-driven post-war boom.

In Japan in the 1950s—putting my childhood memories in the context of what I’ve since heard and read—we saw Canada and the US along with Britain, France and other west European nations all jumbled together as the “West” a shining utopia-like world of affluence and opportunity where smart and generally sophisticated people lived in fancy houses on tree-lined streets, driving downtown to enjoy mouth-watering cuisine and shop for latest products of technological wizardry. Hollywood movies, TV sitcoms and newspaper and magazine articles were the only windows looking out for most of us. Very few Japanese could go abroad to see for themselves.

Other headlines in the inaugural issue like “International House Ball” and “World Congress of Christian Educators” make me feel nostalgic. “International” was one of the big buzz words of the 50s. Having stopped fighting each other, Canada and Japan like other capitalist nations were now looking outward for new ways to gain from cooperation across borders. In the background loomed the threat of the East-West, communism vs capitalism cold war, but come to think of it, the socialist camp had their “internationale” too.

“Christian Educators” remind me of Canadian Christians who donated funds for missionary activities abroad, including the establishment of the International Christian University outside Tokyo in 1952. Ten years later, I was lucky enough to be enrolled there. One of the men’s dormitories on the large, tree-filled campus was named Canada House to honour Canadian contributors. One of my best friends and a business acquaintance who is well-known figure in the ijusha community are among those who used to live in that dormitory . . . but that’s another story.

Then in the 1960s people of my generation came of age. In an era when Japan as a nation was striving to join the ranks of advanced nations, many of us looked for job opportunities that would take us abroad, into that big wide (white?) world to seek out niches not available in Japan. Some of us wanted to leave behind that densely-populated society of intricately interwoven obligations and responsibilities that felt so constricting. Canada appealed to, among others, those seeking opportunities in wide open spaces populated by fair-minded people.

This wave of post-war immigrants, whom some call “shin Issei,” makes up one of the core subcultures within the Nikkei/ijusha community at large. Many by now have Canadian children and grandchildren. I sometimes still feel their presence in Japanese restaurants and cafes decorated with the posters of jazz giants like Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk and John Coltrane. We are the generation who used to sit in smoke-filled jazz coffeeshops, digging their sounds, imagining what life was like in the exciting rough and tumble of America.

As for the relative strengths of North America and Japan, the latter, through the high-growth period following the ’64 Tokyo Olympics and into the 70s gradually closed the gap in terms of technological, material “standard of living.” And following the energy crunch of the 70s and the 80s, Japan managed to rationalize and upgrade their manufacturing industries, so that the quality and variety of everything from household electronic products to automobiles, once the bastion of superior North American, began to surpass those of the US Big Three.

But a funny thing happened in the collective Japanese psyche. We had thought that catching up with the West in terms of that all-purpose buzzword “living standard” would somehow make the “foreigners” respect us as equals. But we found ourselves still in the same place as before, as far as how we felt and behaved toward them, and they toward us, were concerned. They still seemed more sophisticated than us, even if they appreciated Sony audio and Lexus cars and ate sushi. They still called the shots in international endeavors big and small. If what mattered was not the “living standard,” then what? I suspect this is one reason why the next buzzword, the “quality of life” came about. In densely-populated Japan, the realization was perhaps more acute than in bigger countries that mankind’s resources were finite and that environmental pollution was a real threat.

In the meantime, perhaps over a couple of decades, the big buzzword “global” gradually replaced “international” in business and politics. Latest reports from Japan say the rising costs of basic items like food and transportation continue to squeeze the lower and middle income people. They’ve all become used to cheap Chinese consumer goods over the last decade or so, so it’s harder to cut back further on spending. Sounds familiar? In the global age, life in densely-populated Japanese cities seems as hard as ever. The phenomenon of the rich getting richer is most pronounced in the US, followed by Japan. The outsourcing of manufacturing, production and services is a big issue in the US and, to a lesser extent in Japan, but does not appear as serious in Canada.

There may not be another wave of Japanese emigration to Canada as sizable as that of the post-war period. But growing economic hardship in a country whose self-sufficiency in food, a key commodity, dropped to 39% (calorie-based), the lowest among advanced nations, by 2006, might well lead some Japanese to look with renewed interest at the quality of life Canada has to offer—wide-open cities, beautiful nature, public-minded people, resource-rich economy and relatively clean politics.

The annual Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival (founding partner: Vancouver Board of Trade, founding members: Canada-Japan Society of B.C., Japan-Canada Chamber of Commerce and the National Nikkei Museum & Heritage Centre), now in its 4th year, says the festival “has grown to encapsulate Vancouver’s beauty, diversity and creativity in a new spirit of global friendship.” Isn’t it great that sakura has evolved from a symbol of Canada-Japan friendship to a symbol of global friendship?

Odes to sakura date back in Japanese literature to Kojiki and Nihonshoki, the two oldest texts from the 8th century and is the most popular blossom in that traditionally when the word hana, literally flower, is used without specifying which, it has always meant cherry blossom. For etymology buffs, there are at least two theories on the word’s origin: 1) saku (“to flower” or “flowering”) + ra (plural word, “many of”); and 2) sa (god of rice plant) + kura (seat <of>), as I found out for this article.

I happen to be writing this in a coffee shop I chose at random on Broadway near Oak. I look up and notice two blossoming cherry trees outside. I sense that everyone in Vancouver is enjoying in his or her own way the subtle pink hues and staggered-time blossoming of the many sakura varieties that grace our streets, commercial and residential, parks and gardens every spring. And probably none, except for a few sentimental old sons (and daughters) of Nippon like me, cares about their special significance in Japanese culture. That’s how it should be in this global age.

Incidentally, while looking through Japanese language tourist information on Stanley Park, I discovered that none of the several I checked even mentioned the war memorial. I mentioned this to an acquaintance in the Nikkei community and he remarked that today’s Japanese visitors to Vancouver, or young Japanese who’re here to learn English for that matter, “probably wouldn’t be interested.” He may be right, as that is also my own impression. But how about making an effort to at least make sure they learn about the 222 Japanese Canadians who fought for their country in World War One? Then each of them can decide for himself or herself whether he/she is “interested” or “involved” in any way.

Like all “good ideas,” talking about it is easier than doing something. It may be a drop in the bucket, but I will make an effort to try to get that piece of information into as many tourist information guides as possible wherever Stanley Park is mentioned. Inspired, no doubt, by the many Nikkei and Japanese campaigners past and present working to enhance the sakura heritage in more ways than one.

Second to last, allow me to mention the historical street slang sakura which means horse meat sashimi. It can also mean “one who pretends to be a casual customer (as at a roadside stand) who loudly proclaims the merits of whatever product he’s buying as he eagerly makes the purchase on the spot.” He’s of course the vendor’s accomplice. {This old slang happens to be my favorite, not in the least because of its intricate relevance to my efforts as a columnist.}