“Well, that’s what Etsuko said.” Sunja was also curious as to how Solomon was faring; he would have had to get his identification card for the first time. She had been worried about that.
The show came on, and Kyunghee bolted up to adjust the antenna. The picture improved. The familiar Japanese folk music for the program drifted into the room.
“Where will Higuchi-san go today?” Yangjin smiled broadly.
In Other Lands, the interviewer Higuchi-san, a spry, ageless woman with dyed black hair, traveled all over the globe and interviewed Japanese people who had immigrated to other lands. The interviewer was no ordinary woman of her generation; she was unmarried, childless, and a skilled world-traveling journalist who could ask any intimate question. She was reputed to have Korean blood, and the rumor alone was enough for Yangjin and Kyunghee to find Higuchi-san’s pluck and wanderlust relatable. They were devoted to her. When the women still ran their little confection shop, they’d rush straight home as soon as they closed to avoid missing even a minute of the program. Sunja had never been interested in the show, but now she sat through it for her mother’s sake.
“Pillows!” Yangjin cried, and Sunja fixed them.
Kyunghee clapped her hands as the opening credits rolled. Despite all the restrictions, she had always hoped that Higuchi-san could somehow go to North Korea. Koh Hansu had told her husband that her parents and in-laws were dead, yet she still yearned to hear news of home. Also, she wanted to know if Kim Changho was safe. No matter how many sad stories she heard from the others whose family members had gone back, she could not imagine that the handsome young man with the thick eyeglasses had died.
As the opening music faded, a disembodied male voice announced that today, Higuchi-san was in Medellín to meet an impressive farming family who now owned the largest chicken farm in Colombia. Higuchi-san, wearing a light-colored raincoat and her famous green boshi, marveled how the Wakamura family had decided to migrate to Latin America at the end of the nineteenth century and how well they had raised their children to be good Japanese in the world. “Minna nihongo hanase-masu!” Higuchi-san’s voice was full of wonder and admiration.
The camera zoomed in on Se?ora Wakamura, the surviving matriarch, a tiny, wrinkled woman who looked far older than her actual age of sixty-seven. Her large, sloping eyes, buried beneath layers of crepey, folded skin, appeared wise and thoughtful. Like her siblings, she was born in Medellín.
“Things were very difficult for my parents, of course. They didn’t speak Spanish and didn’t know anything about chickens. Father died of a heart attack when I was six, then Mother raised us by herself. My oldest brother stayed here with our mother, but our other two brothers went to study in Montreal, then returned. My sisters and I worked on the farm.”
“That must have been difficult, difficult work,” Higuchi-san exclaimed breathlessly.
“A woman’s lot is to suffer,” Se?ora Wakamura said.
“Soo, soo.”
The camera panned to show the interior of the cavernous farm, a moving sea of white feathers comprised of tens of thousands of fluffy chickens; brilliant red combs streaked the pale, fluttering mass.
At Higuchi-san’s behest, Se?ora Wakamura listed the number of chores that she’d had since she was tall enough to sprinkle chicken feed and avoid getting pecked.
“How very hard all this must have been,” Higuchi-san repeated, trying not to wince from the noxious odors.
Se?ora Wakamura shrugged. Her stoicism was undeniable as she showed all the moving parts of a working chicken farm, including lifting heavy machinery while trudging through muddy fields.
At the end of the thirty-minute program, Higuchi-san asked Se?ora Wakamura to say something to the viewers in Japanese.
The woman farmer with the ancient face turned to the camera shyly, then looked away like she was thinking.
“I have never been to Japan”—she frowned—“but I hope that wherever I am in life and whatever I do, I can be a good Japanese. I hope to never bring shame to my people.”
Higuchi-san grew teary and signed off. As the closing credits rolled, the announcer said that Higuchi-san was now heading to the airport to reach the next destination of Other Lands. “Till we countrymen meet again!” the announcer said brightly.
Sunja got up and turned off the television. She wanted to head to the kitchen to boil some water for tea.
“Go-saeng,” Yangjin said out loud. “A woman’s lot is to suffer.”
“Yes, go-saeng.” Kyunghee nodded, repeating the word for suffering.