Towers of Acadia

Before the permanent camps were completed, we were sent to “assembly centers” to await transport to Amache.  Our temporary camp was at the Santa Anita Race Tracks in Arcadia, California.  Arcadia is an ideal Greek area of simplicity and peace.  The evacuees who were sent to this camp in the early months were given living quarters in the horse stalls.  We were fortunate enough to be placed in make shift barracks.

The Light Searching

A frightening experience in Santa Anita is expressed here.  I woke up one night to make my way to the bathroom facilities in another barrack.  A guard caught me in his searchlight glare and followed me, then waited until I reemerged and kept his light on me until I reached my barrack.  Only recently my husband pointed out that the guard might have been “lighting my way,” but as a small child, that didn’t occur to me.

Home

In 1985 I re-visited my childhood home in Los Angeles.  The water color depicts the front porch where my brother and I used to play on a rocker-swing.  The legs of a soldier threaten us with the unknown future.

Night Story

The nightmarish quality of the events that followed December 7, 1941, are depicted here.  I didn’t understand what was happening, nor why.

The Training of Patience

I remember long lines and waits to board trains to  Colorado.  The woman with the staff is my mother in contemporary clothing walking toward those same trains.  The rides were sporadic stop-and-go legs with the blinds pulled down during the day.  This not to prevent us looking out, but to prevent people outside seeing us.  In a diary lost in a flood, I noted each stop on the trip.  There were many.  It was a three day trip from California to Colorado.

Waiting for the Orange Mess to Open

US Army slang for dining hall was “mess.”  At Santa Anita each was coded by color.  Ours was “Orange.”

Camouflaging

An activity of older girls and women in Santa Anita was to create camouflage nets for the army.  I remember the strong odor of burlap.  I find this even to be very ironic---that these women were making nets to protect the men who had placed us in these camps at gunpoint.

Shapes of Sounds at Santa Anita

One of the sounds I clearly recall was the clip-clop of geta (wooden clogs) fashioned from scrap wood.  It was a hollow clapping sound, peculiar and misplaced.

Guilt is a Form of Suppressed Anger

So many Issei (first generation Japanese) used to sigh, “shikataganai” (“it can’t be helped”).  It was their way of accepting their fate.  But I wondered what their honest suppressed feelings might have been.  Could they have felt like driving a spear into the gods that betrayed them?

18286

This is the family number given to us by the US government.  It was written on tagboard tags on each person and on our luggage.

Target Point Green

In a government publication I found a map with Amache targeted in a green circle.  This is the exact shade of green.  The vertical line to the right of the map is the Kansas border.

Rage

At night I used to hear voices screaming.  Were they imaginary?  I don’t know.

Nightmare

Coyotes wailed in the desert, echoing each other from spot to spot.  Sometimes they sounded very near, almost under my window.

And We Danced with Fred and Ginger

Each Saturday night in the mess hall we had movies.  I transformed Fred and Ginger into Japanese Dancers.

Watch Tower Series:  Promise

The calligraphy at the bottom is taken from a Buddhist manuscript from my mother’s collection.  I intended to fill the background with barbed wire, but they morphed into people scattered in debris.  Their futures seem to be shattered.

Through the Gaps

Our single room was lit by one bare bulb.  Moths would be attracted to the light and in the morning we would find them singed, dead, on the floor.

Paradise Lost

Some of the things I missed:  the ocean, fresh oranges, palm trees, ice cream cones.

Winter 9L

We were housed in blocks consisting of 12 barracks.  Ours was 9L.

Only My Freedom

Jack rabbits hopped about freely, unfazed by barbed wire and armed guards.  We were trapped.

Sunflowers

Several persevering individuals managed to raise sunflower gardens despite the scarcity of water.  The orange and white tower was our water tank in Amache.

Blue Lotus

This is my mother.  The lotus is a symbol of Buddhism.  It thrives in muddy water and a blue lotus is mythical and magical.