“I don’t feel very modern,” said Emi. “Look at me, going back to Japan to do what?”
“To stay alive. To help your parents stay alive,” said Keiko, sadly. “You’re still a modern woman, just one hindered by war. Trust me, you are far luckier than I was. I was taught that the only reason to better myself was so that I might marry a remarkable man. No one told me to be remarkable myself. But your father has been telling you to be since the day you were born. And you know what? I think it worked,” she said, looking at her daughter with pride.
The boat did not drop anchor again for several weeks—weeks that Emi spent mostly with her eyes closed, letting herself dream about the past, knowing that it would be those memories that would make her future bearable.
When the Gripsholm finally docked again, it was at South Africa’s Port Elizabeth in early October, but the weather tricked them into thinking it hadn’t been thirty-seven days since they left New York.
This stop, the crew warned before the ship pulled into harbor, would be far less pleasant than Rio. They were told that here they were only allowed to walk onshore close to the dock.
As the boat crept up the coast of Africa, slowing as Port Elizabeth came into view, the crew expressed surprise to see the port fully illuminated.
“We were told we would be coming in dark,” one said to Emi as she stood back on the deck, this time having no desire to be at the front of the boat. “Maybe you’ll be let off for longer than we thought.”
But it wasn’t to be. While the crew said they could stay on land for four hours as they took care of administrative duties, almost none of the passengers did once they confronted the WHITES ONLY signs dotting Port Elizabeth like the signs many had seen all over California after Pearl Harbor.
“Are we considered white here?” Emi asked her mother as another mother pulled her child away from the large sign. Keiko didn’t answer. She sighed, told her daughter to stretch her arms and legs, enjoy stable land for a few minutes more, and then they were going back on board.
Her mother was right, thought Emi. They had heard enough about such signs from the Issei and Nisei in Crystal City. They didn’t need to be subjected to them, too, even if they were meant for a different race.
On the forty-fourth day, after the forty-fourth sunrise and the forty-fourth breakfast of weak tea, too-soft rice, and dried fish, India was supposed to be on the horizon. Emi, her mother, and the Kuriyamas stood on the deck together looking for a dark line to indicate land. Chiyo had not grown any friendlier to Emi as the trip wore on, using every moment they were alone together to bring up the expectations facing Japanese women in wartime, as if it were an honor to be deprived. But Keiko had pleaded with her daughter to remain civilized, since they were in such tight quarters. They were on a boat, Keiko reminded Emi, where rumors traveled fast. If Chiyo wanted to start talking about Norio Kato’s rude, promiscuous daughter on board, word would certainly get back to Norio Kato and the Foreign Ministry staff as soon as they docked in Yokohama. Out of respect for her parents, Emi was polite. She smiled at the women when she rolled out of her bed and let the Kuriyamas use the bathroom first both mornings and evenings. She spoke of nothing unpleasant, and even when she was privately burning with contempt for them, she always managed to make banal small talk. The result was that by the time they reached India, Chiyo’s harassment, while still biting, had been less constant.
They saw nothing but blue sky and dark ocean all through the morning on what they called India day, but just before lunch was served, a young boy whose hair had clearly been cut with the aid of a soup bowl screamed “Riku—Riku ga mieta!” and everyone on the deck rushed to where he was standing to see if they, too, could see land. Emi squinted and tried to find a high perch so the midday sun wasn’t blocking her view. After a few seconds, she saw it. India. The word riku flew around the boat, drawing passengers up from below deck like a magnet.
“If we weren’t prisoners, this would be much more exciting,” Chiyo said to Emi, and for the first time, she agreed with her.
Their destination was the port of Mormugao in Goa, a Portuguese territory on the west coast of India. Arriving in Goa meant much more than being able to walk on solid ground for a few hours. It meant the day of the switch. The Japanese and Japanese-Americans would disembark from the Gripsholm and the people the U.S. government deemed “real Americans” would be loaded on. The passengers on the Gripsholm were told that the whole process would only take a few hours, so they wouldn’t have time to see anything in Goa besides the port and their new ship, the Teia Maru.
“I don’t think anyone on this boat wants to waste their time sightseeing now,” said Chiyo. “This certainly isn’t a pleasure cruise.”
“I’d have to agree,” said Keiko. “I think we are all just ready to be in Japan and not on these choppy waters. I don’t know how much longer my stomach can take it.”
“It better get stronger quickly, Kato-san,” said Chiyo, her expression indicating that she was enjoying Keiko’s admission of weakness. “After we trade boats in Goa we have to travel around the southern tip of India to Singapore, then on to San Fernando Bay in the Philippines, then to French Indochina, which I hear has the most beautiful cranes, though I doubt we will see any. Then we are to go on to Hong Kong, then Shanghai, and finally Yokohama. Would you like to see a map? I have one in our room. It’s still a very long journey. How many days?” she asked her smirking daughter.
“Very many more,” said Naoko. “At least thirty.”
“Did you hear? At least thirty,” she said to Keiko. “So time to toughen up, Kato-san. There are no servants to wait on you here and certainly not on the next boat, run by the Japanese. Unless you think that’s what we are. Your servants.” She executed a deep bow in the style reserved for the highest dignitaries, and then righted herself and gave Keiko a pitying look.
“Come, Emiko,” said Keiko, pleasantly. “Let’s go down and finish packing our things.”