Yoseb directed Sunja to the only empty seat at the back of the trolley and deposited her there. She took back the bundles from Isak and held them in her lap. The brothers stood close to each other and caught each other up on family news. Sunja didn’t pay any mind to the men’s conversation. As before, she held her bundles close to her heart and belly to inhale the lingering scent of home on the fabric covering their possessions.
The wide streets of downtown Osaka were lined with rows of low brick buildings and smart-looking shops. The Japanese who had settled in Busan resembled the ones here, but there were many more kinds of them. At the station, there were young men in fancy Western suits that made Isak’s clothing look dated and fusty, and beautiful women wearing glorious kimonos that would have made Dokhee swoon with pleasure at their exceptional colors and embroidery. There were also very poor-looking people who must have been Japanese—that was something she had never seen in Busan. Men spat in the streets casually. The trolley ride felt brief to her.
They got off at Ikaino, the ghetto where the Koreans lived. When they reached Yoseb’s home, it looked vastly different from the nice houses she’d passed by on the trolley ride from the station. The animal stench was stronger than the smell of food cooking or even the odors of the outhouses. Sunja wanted to cover her nose and mouth, but kept from doing so.
Ikaino was a misbegotten village of sorts, comprised of mismatched, shabby houses. The shacks were uniform in their poorly built manner and flimsy materials. Here and there, a stoop had been washed or a pair of windows polished, but the majority of the facades were in disrepair. Matted newspapers and tar paper covered the windows from inside, and wooden shims were used to seal up the cracks. The metal used on the roof was often rusted through. The houses appeared to have been put up by the residents themselves using cheap or found materials—not much sturdier than huts or tents. Smoke vented from makeshift steel chimneys. It was warm for a spring evening; children, half-dressed in rags, played tag, ignoring the drunken man asleep in the alley. A small boy defecated by a stoop not far from Yoseb’s house.
Yoseb and Kyunghee lived in a boxlike shack with a slightly pitched roof. Its wooden frame was covered with corrugated steel. A plywood panel with a metal covering served as the front door.
“This place is fit for only pigs and Koreans,” Yoseb said, laughing. “It’s not quite like home, is it?”
“No, but it’ll do very well for us,” Isak said, smiling. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience we’ll be causing.”
Sunja couldn’t believe how poorly Yoseb and his wife lived. It could not be possible that a foreman of a factory could live in such impoverished quarters.
“The Japanese won’t rent decent properties to us. We bought this house eight years ago. I think we’re the only Koreans who own a house on this row, but no one can know that.”
“Why?” Isak asked.
“It’s not good to let on that you’re an owner. The landlords here are bastards; that’s all everyone complains about. I bought this with the money Father gave me when I moved out here. I couldn’t afford to buy it now.”
Pig squeals came from the house next door with the tar-papered windows.
“Yes, our neighbor raises pigs. They live with her and her children.”
“How many children?”
“Four children and three pigs.”
“All in there?” Isak whispered.
Yoseb nodded, raising his eyebrows.
“It can’t be that expensive to live here,” Isak said. He had planned on renting a house for Sunja, himself, and the baby.
“Tenants pay more than half their earnings on rent. The food prices are much higher than back home.”
Hansu owned many properties in Osaka. How did he do that? she wondered.
The side door that led to the kitchen opened, and Kyunghee looked out. She put down the pail she was carrying by the doorstep.
“What! What are you doing standing outside? Come in, come in! Uh-muh!” Kyunghee cried out loud. She rushed over to Isak and held his face in her hands. “Uh-muh, I’m so happy. You’re here! Praise God!”
“Amen,” Isak said, letting himself be petted over by Kyunghee, who’d known him since he was an infant.
“The last time I saw you was right before I left home! Go inside the house now!” she ordered Isak playfully, then turned to Sunja.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted a sister. I’ve been so lonely here wanting to talk to a girl!” Kyunghee said. “I was worried that you didn’t make your train. How are you? Are you tired? You must be hungry.”
Kyunghee took Sunja’s hand in hers, and the men followed the women.
Sunja hadn’t expected this warmth. Kyunghee had a remarkably pretty face—eyes shaped and colored like persimmon seeds and a beautiful mouth. She had the complexion of white peonies. She appeared far more appealing and vibrant than Sunja, who was more than a dozen years younger. Her dark, smooth hair was rolled up with a wooden hairpin, and Kyunghee wore a cotton apron over her plain blue Western-style dress. She looked like a wispy schoolgirl more than a thirty-one-year-old housewife.