Kuroshio The Blood of Foxes
by Terry Watada
Kuroshio, the latest book by Toronto writer Terry Watada, takes its title from the Japanese word for black current, used to describe the Pacific Ocean current that Japanese immigrants believe brought them safely to a new life in North America.
Based on a true story that spans decades and continents, Kuroshio explores the dark reaches of Japanese immigrant life in Vancouver in the years leading up to World War II.
I talked to Terry Watada in Toronto just as the first snow of winter was being washed away by the inevitable rain . . .
What was the impetus for writing this book?
About 25 years ago, Mrs. Kay Shin told me a girlhood memory. She swore she saw a woman who lived on Jackson St. hanging from her living room ceiling, having committed suicide. That image stayed with me for years.
I then learned of a murder committed by an issei woman. I was raised to believe the issei never even contemplated such an act. Then I learned of the circumstances of the murder. The murderer had never been arrested. I then decided to link her story to the Morii gang, another untold story of our community, to explain why.
My parents were first generation Japanese Canadians and therefore knew many of the characters in the story. My brother knew Etsuji Morii, the gangland leader, in the internment camp (thought of him as a kindly man). Morii’s lieutenant, Rikimatsu (also in the book) was a good friend of my father and would visit us often. I was always afraid of him. He had no nose, a scar on his left cheek and a gravel voice. When I learned of his past along with Morii, however, I was hooked. I wanted to know their exploits, how the gang worked and the extent of their influence and power.
How much of the book is based on fact?
The actual murder in the story is based on a true incident, which I had been hearing about for years before I began writing the book. When I found a newspaper clipping, I was intrigued to know that the victim was first thought to have committed suicide, an absurd notion given the fact that she was found dead in the basement furnace. Though everyone in the community knew the mother had done it, the woman was never charged, let alone arrested, tried and convicted.
I imagine that you had to fill in a lot of the gaps in the story, as well as create a narrative arc. How much liberty did you take with facts, or did you try to stick pretty close to what we know about the pre-war community?
Well, I did find some material in the JC history books and the self-published autobiographies, but much about Morii came from Wes Fujiwara, Jesse Nishihata and stories my dad told me (in Rikimatsu’s case). In the end, though, I extrapolated on various connections from the facts I had learned. I had to since they were never talked about.
I based the story of the issei woman on my mother’s life and the lives of immigrant women that Dr. Midge Ayukawa had researched for her graduate work. She was so kind to let me use the information.
Did you come and immerse yourself in Vancouver, particularly the Powell Street area while writing the book or were you able to conjure it up in Toronto where you live?
I did a lot of research in Vancouver. The Vancouver Public Library photograph collection was of particular value. I also inquired about various Powell St. area buildings and listened very carefully to nisei at the Powell St. Festival. I also asked various friends in Vancouver for very specific information, like Main Street’s original name and why the name change.
I did a lot of conjuring in Toronto since I couldn’t afford to live in Vancouver. The map of the Powell Street area circa 1941 researched and drawn by Ray Ota and Shoji Nishihata respectively was an immense help.
You sometimes deal with ghosts and spirits in your writing. Do you ever fear that the ghost of Etsuji Morii might return to question your version of the facts?
No, but Frank Moritsugu once warned me about death threats from the remaining elements of the Morii gang. I asked him how old these guys are. He said in their ‘80s. I assured him I could outrun them.
What happened to the west coast gangs after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, were they dispersed with the rest of the community? Did they attempt to carry on any of their activities in the camps?
Ah, that’s my next novel.
Now that this book is out, what other projects do you have in the works?
I’m working on the full-length version of my play Tale of a Mask with the fu-GEN Asian Canadian Theatre Company. After a long period of working with a dramaturge, I will be in workshops with actors and a director followed by a Toronto public reading in June. We’re looking to a mainstage production in 2010. I also plan to develop further my new play Obon: The Festival of the Dead, which I introduced at the Powell St. Festival in a reading in 2006. Probably by next summer or fall. I have a few other writing projects in mind (another volume of poetry, a non-fiction collection and maybe another play or two) but they are in the incubation stage at the moment.
Then there is that second novel . . .
Terry Watada is the author of numerous books of history, fiction, and poetry, including Daruma Days, Ten Thousand Views of Rain, Seeing the Invisible, and Bukkyo Tozen: A History of Buddhism in Canada. His latest poetry book is Obon: the Festival of the Dead.
Shaku of Wondrous Grace
Through the Garden of Yoshimaru Abe
By Art Miki, Henry Kojima & Sylvia Jansen
In many ways, Yoshimaru Abe’s life is not special or extraordinary; it is a life filled with hardship, sacrifice, accomplishment and reward. It is a life lived and governed in all respects by strong Buddhist beliefs—where his everyday actions were a demonstration and expression of his faith. To Yoshimaru, how one addresses important issues was just as important as what one does or accomplishes. Throughout his life, his role was not necessarily one of directing or initiating change, but of nurturing and responding to an ever–changing environment through thoughtful reflection and discussion. From the experience and insight acquired from years of surviving life–altering challenges imposed upon him and his community, Yoshimaru became, for many, the embodiment of the spiritual values cherished by the Japanese community. His impassioned commitment to his faith, and his generosity in giving his energy to all around him, inspired the Buddhist name given at his funeral, and inspired the title of this biography. Reverend Fredrich Ulrich of the Manitoba Buddhist Church named him Shaku of Wondrous Grace.
from Shaku of Wondrous Grace – Through the Garden of Yoshimaru Ab
A new book, Shaku of Wondrous Grace – Through the Garden of Yoshimaru Abe, by Art Miki, Henry Kojima & Sylvia Jansen, looks at the life and times of a man known to many in Manitoba and across Canada as simply “Abe–san.” A respected community builder, artist, and gardener of the celebrated Japanese Gardens of Winnipeg’s Folklorama, Yoshimaru Abe was an active citizen in his communities throughout his long life.
From the experience and insight acquired from years of surviving life-altering challenges imposed upon him and his community, Yoshimaru became, for many, the embodiment of the spiritual values cherished by the Japanese community. His impassioned commitment to his faith, and his generosity in giving his energy to all around him, inspired the Buddhist name given at his funeral, and the title of this biography: Shaku of Wondrous Grace.
The Sakura Tree
A tale of three Japanese picture brides
By Carolyn McTighe
Illustrated by Karen Brownlee
RED DEER PRESS, 2007
Once there lived three Japanese sisters. The eldest sister’s name was Aki, which means autumn. She was named this because she was as graceful as the gold and red colored leaves that swirl gently to earth in the autumn breeze. The middle sister’s name was Fuyu, which means winter. She was named this because her skin was as fair as the whitest winter’s snow. The youngest sister’s name was Haruko, which means spring. She was named this because her silky, black hair smelled of the sweetest spring blossoms.
So begins The Sakura Tree, a new picture book that follows the progress of three so-called “picture brides” who come to Canada in the early twentieth century. The three girls are sent overseas by their father who hopes they can find a more prosperous life than the one he can provide in Sendai.
Although reluctant to leave home, the sisters obey their father’s wish, each taking with her one item to remind her of their home. One brings a kimono, another a violin. The youngest, Haruko, brings three seeds from a sakura—a cherry tree. The sisters arrive on the shores of British Columbia, where their husbands await. Separated at the dock, each joins the husband to whom she has been promised, and sets off to create a new life for herself.
Over the years, each sister has her own way of remembering the family and country she has left behind, particularly the other sisters, for they have lost contact since arrival in Canada.
Over the years, the sakura seeds that Haruko planted grow into beautiful cherry trees. One spring, the blossoms swirl away in the wind, and are carried to the doorsteps of the two other sisters. The blossoms remind the sisters of Haruko and their Japanese home. Following the blossoms, they find Haruko’s home and the three are reunited under the sakura trees, where they remember their lives together.
The book was written by Kelowna’s Carolyn McTighe, a freelance writer, and illustrated by Karen Brownlee, a resident of Lethbridge, Alberta best-known for her landscapes, rural Alberta communities and grain elevators. She is also proficient in sumi-e and other diverse styles, elements of which she used in the illustrations for this book.