L16C, Marika Yo ‘04, Yo (Yu) Aiko, Grandmother, 1929, Ōsaka, Wakayama
I interviewed my grandmother on November 9, 2002, at my house. She is 73 years old now. When the war started, my grandmother was in fifth grade. She is a Chinese who was born in Japan and has lived in Japan for her whole life. She lived in Ōsaka when the war was going on. When I interviewed her, she seemed very happy. I learned a lot from her.
During the war, she received a daily ration. They had a meal of potato, beans and rice mixed together. She said she was never full, but because her mother owned a boutique, they had many clothes, so they traded secretly with other people. However, other people suffered from lack of food, lined up for hours, and ate tasteless food. She was fortunate compared to the other people.
The most painful thing during the war was that she could not say anything critical about the country. There was no freedom of speech. If she ever did, she would be taken to the police station. Also, because she was Chinese, the special police (kenpeitai) always kept an eye on her family. In fifth grade during school, a newspaper reporter asked her if she liked Chiang Kai-shek or Wang Jing-wei (also known as Wang Chao-ming). Chiang supported an independent China, whereas Wang supported Japan. She answered “Chiang Kai-shek,” because at home, they all supported Chiang, because they were Chinese. The newspaper reporter left as if nothing was wrong, but when she got home, the police came into her house. At that time, her uncle was there, and he explained to them that she was just a child and she didn’t know what she was saying and asked for forgiveness. My grandmother cried and trembled. She said it was a big mistake.
One afternoon, a Japanese soldier who came back from China came to their house and told them what horrible things the Japanese Army had done to the Chinese civilians. They buried people alive and raped women, cut their breasts off, and buried them. My grandma didn’t know exactly why the soldier came to them.
When the air raid attacks began, dropped by the U.S. B-29 bombers, she was 15. It was like fireworks and was called hi no umi (sea of fire). A siren would ring and tell everyone to turn their lights off. They taped their glass windows so they would not break. They went into an air raid shelter that they had dug out earlier; it was a space for about 50 people. After that, they escaped wearing a bōkū-zukin (for head protection) and ran to a school nearby. She was careful not to hurt her face, because she thought that the face of a woman was the most important part of the body. By morning, everything was burned down, and almost nothing was left. She said she was trained how to extinguish fire, but it never helped, because the fires were too big.
Everywhere she went, she was with her family, her father, mother and her older sister. Her older brother was in China, doing business. She sometimes strayed away from her father, but they always met at school. Every Japanese home had a picture of Emperor Hirohito (Tennō Heika). She did not have one because she was Chinese. She had clothes and food ready to escape during a bombing raid, but she never brought them because she was always panicked; she even forgot to put on her shoes sometimes. Also, because her father was Chinese, he was often arrested and was suspected as a spy.
She went to a Chinese school in Ōsaka. She went to school everyday, but sometimes the air raid would happen in the middle of classes. An air raid siren (kūshū-keihō)would warn them. She said seeing her friends made her very happy, and when she was with them, she forgot all her pains. Also, when she came back from home, the food her mother cooked made her very happy, even though it wasn’t very good. The fact that her mother was still cooking for her made her very warm inside.
Ōsaka was targeted because it was the center of the economy and many factories were there. Tōkyō was the center of culture. Kōbe’s Yamate area was safe because many Americans had lived there. Also, Kyōto and Nara were safe, because there was a lot of history in both cities. When the Americans came, at least they would know what kind of history Japan had. I asked her why she didn’t escape to Kōbe, so she would be safer. She told me that she had no way of knowing whether or not Kōbe would be attacked.
She moved to the countryside in Wakayama. There was a river where she used to play. She learned how to swim there. One day while she was swimming, a neighbor boy came running towards her and told her that the war was over. She could never forget the joy and the relief she felt when she heard the word “owatta” (it is finished). Even though she heard the speech of the Emperor (Tennō Heika) and heard that Japan lost, she was still very happy that the war had ended. She didn’t care if Japan lost.
She said the bond with her sister was very strong. She was with her from the beginning to the end. The bond between them was stronger than other sisters. She also said that now she has more knowledge and wisdom than other people do, because when she was accused and bullied by other people, she learned how it feels to hurt a person, and now she knows how she should treat other people. She is emotionally and physically strong—not just her, but all of the people who experienced war.
When I heard her experience, I was shocked. I could not believe that a person right in front of me had experienced such tragedies. She told me her painful experiences, which touched me. I looked at my worries and troubles right now, and they seemed so incomparably small. I am thankful that I’m alive and have such a pleasant life, not having to experience war. I also get goosebumps when I think that, if she had been killed at the war, I would not be sitting here typing this interview, and I wouldn’t be alive. I would like to pass down the experiences that my grandmother faced to the next generation of my family. I hope these memories which my grandmother passed on to me will stay alive and not remain only as a bitter experience but also as a family treasure.