My Roots in Okinawa

Chapter 3: Attracted to the Yatai - 2

Minako Tamaki was born and raised on Okinawa, a full-blooded Okinawan. She had lived in the states for a year studying English. Although she didn't have a boyfriend, she insisted that she wasn't picky. She was an airline employee and often stopped by Yoruneko after work.

"Minako-san. Yoroshiku!" I said warmly. Yoroshiku is another useful Japanese word with no satisfactory English translation. It's used when you introduce yourself, and other times when you are asking a favor of someone. It embodies a large amount of meaning and nuances including 'I ask you humbly to please take care of me.'

I didn't want to forget her name because that would considerably disrupt any further conversations. So I physically and overtly began writing on the palms of my hands in Japanese character MI-NA-KO. "Sorry, I'm terrible at remembering names, and I want to remember your name." Minako seemed to appreciate my effort.

I kept writing repeatedly on my hand, MI-NA-KO, MI-NA-KO, MI-NA-KO. Unfortunately, the alcohol was going to my head and I started to confuse whether it was MI-NA-KO or MI-NE-KO.

"I have a friend who is in Washington. She married an American," Minako informed me.

"Well, I don't believe in international marriages," I replied jokingly. It was a risky comment that could be taken negatively. On Okinawa, international marriages were common because of the large American military presence. "You have to marry someone that you can eat goya with in your old age." Goya, or bitter cucumber, is a popular Okinawan vegetable. My statement implied that Americans could never understand the wonderful taste of goya.

Minako laughed. Fortunately, she didn't find the statement offensive and I was safe.

After talking about her friend in Washington, we began talking about the man with the dog. "What is your name?" I asked kindly.

"Hiroyuki," he replied.

Hiroyuki Chomin was in his late thirties, and a tatooist by trade. He was at Yoruneko with his dog, a half-breed between Dachshund and French Bulldog. An avid dog lover, he also owned a pit bull, which was too dangerous to bring to the yatai. He frequently stopped by Yoruneko while walking his dog.

After talking about Hiroyuki's dogs for a while, we turned to the couple. "What are your names?" I asked.

The man looked at me. "I'm Daisuke. This is my wife Kurie."

Daisuke and Kurie Hashimoto were from Kobe. They were in Okinawa on a three-day tour, which they did about four times a year. Daisuke was an engineer for a major Japanese corporation and Kurie was a homemaker. They were married the previous year and didn't have children yet.

Our conversation at Yoruneko came in waves of topics that briefly filled a void only to recede until a new topic emerged. The conversation reminded me of the waves at the seawall located at Sunabe City where my friends often hung out. The long seawall was built along the ocean to prevent the tide from coming onto the dry surface. To prevent the impact of the ocean waves from damaging the seawall, thousands of large tetrahedral shaped chunks of concrete loosely stacked upon each other were placed along the seawall. During high tide, the voids between the chunks helped absorb shocks from the waves. As the waves came in, the water crashed into the chunks of concrete filling the voids between the chunks. Slowly the water flowed back into the ocean leaving the voids empty again until a new wave of water crashed into the chunks of concrete filling the voids. The process continued until the tide lowered.

When I lived on Okinawa, my friends often gathered at the seawall. Usually, there was Natsuko Christiensen, Melvin Aiono, Steve Uehara, Cynthia Kurashige, Kiyoshi Richardson and several others. We all went to schools on the U.S. military bases on Okinawa and knew each other since elementary school. We all spoke Japanese because our mothers were Okinawan nationals. Some, like Steve, even spoke good Hogen, which was an Okinawan dialect distinctly different from Japanese. Growing up, we formed a bond and trusted each other like family. We talked for hours sitting on the seawall as we watched the waves.

One particular night, Melvin and I were sitting on the seawall drinking beer. Melvin was the one who always brought the ice chest full of cans of Budweiser. The others were away either strolling the seawall's walkway or conversing at other parts of the wall. The air was cool and the stars were clear. The sound of the rolling waves was soothing.

"Joe, what are you going to do after graduation?" Melvin asked.

High school graduation was only a few months away. We were American citizens and expected to move off the island. Our choices were either go to college or work in the states. But some of my friends with Okinawan parents stayed on Okinawa.

"I'm going to college in California."

"How about Natsuko?"

Natsuko Christiensen was my girlfriend at the time. I knew her since the fifth grade. But we began dating during our junior year in high school and were always together. Her Okinawan mother raised Natsuko alone ever since her father was killed in the Vietnam War. She had lost all contact with her American father's family in the states.

"Natsuko will be staying on Okinawa with her mother. We're going to have a long distance relationship until I graduate from college." A long distance relationship sounded grim. But Natsuko and I had talked about it on many occasions. We were just not ready to break off our relationship. "How about you? Are you going to the states?"

"Nah! College isn't for me. You know, I'm not even sure if I have the grades to graduate from high school," Melvin said laughing. "I'm going to find a job on Okinawa."

As I sipped my sake at the yatai, I realized it was already two o'clock in the morning and time was passing by quickly. Soon Daisuke and Kurie stood up to leave. I instinctively stood up to bow. "Hope to see you again!"

The couple smiled and bowed back to me. Then they turned to Kenta and bowed. "Thank you. We'll be back again."

The conversations continued after Daisuke and Kurie left. I talked about life in the United States. Hiroyuki talked about his dogs. Minako talked about her work. After we wore out any one topic, another topic fill the void. The topics weren't deeply personal. They only provided basic information about each of us.

But the topics were less important than the tempo and atmosphere. We talked as though we were old friends. Their presence filled a void inside of me that I feared would stay empty if I went back to the hotel.

Around three o'clock, the tide seemed to recede as we no longer had anything to talk about. But we sat quietly enjoying our drinks. The air was chilly and Minako had a blanket, provided by the yatai, over her shoulders. She was drinking plum wine. I ordered a hot sake, which Hiroyuki and I poured into each others small sake cup. Kenta played music by the Beatles on the yatai's CD player. The sound of traffic on Route 42 hummed behind us. Although we didn't talk much, their company filled a void inside of me.

Soon a lady arrived. She had beautiful big eyes, a small tall nose, and sharp lips. Her long straight hair was permed at the ends. She was wearing a black dress and high heels. She imbued a sense of loneliness but didn't break the mood that was already calming down. She asked Kenta for some iced wheat tea to wear down the alcohol that she had already consumed.

The lady sat next to me. "I want a dog," she said, leaning over me to pet Hiroyuki's dog. "But they are so expensive."

"How much does a dog cost in Japan?" I asked, slightly leaning back so I wouldn't block the lady from reaching the dog.

"The dog I want cost four hundred thousand yen," the lady replied as she pet the dog.

Four hundred thousand yen was approximately four thousand dollars. "Wow, that's pretty expensive for a dog," I replied casually. After a brief pause, I asked her, "So what is your name?"

"Namie," she answered, looking at me.

Namie Hanagami worked as an administrative assistant for a plastic surgeon in Fukuoka, which was on the southern portion of mainland Japan. She traveled to Okinawa alone, and was leaving the next day. Working for a plastic surgeon, and given her good looks, I thought she may have had some work done. She denied it.

Namie looked at my wedding ring. "Are you married?" she asked.

Surprisingly, up until that point, no one had directly asked me that question. It wasn't something I wanted to talk about. A temptation came over me to give some lame story about recently going through a divorce or being split up. However, that would have been a lie. I was enjoying myself at the yatai because I was being myself for the first time in many years. I didn't want to stop being myself.

"Yes. I'm married."

"Did you leave your wife at home?" Namie asked.

"Actually, she kicked me out of the house," I said jokingly.

Everyone laughed.

"How about you? Are you married?" I casually asked Namie.

"I just got divorced." She appeared vulnerable.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. It must be hard."

"It's all right. My in-laws were cold to me because I couldn't have children. I also got ill last year which did not bode well with them. I began to despise my husband when he didn't stick up for me."

Namie was obviously scarred by her divorce. In Japan, when a woman married, she married into her husband's family. Traditionally, the wife was expected to provide grandchildren for her new parents. Her inability to do so had caused frictions with her in-laws. However, at least she had escaped from her in-laws and returned to her loving birth parents.

Around four-thirty, Hiroyuki finally looked up to Kenta. "I have to go now. Thanks for the drinks!"

I stood up and bowed to Hiroyuki. "Hope to see you again!"

Hiroyuki and I shook hands, American style, before he left.

Minako stood. "Well, I'm going home too."

I faced Minako. "Please travel home safely." In the states, it'd be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets that late at night. But on Okinawa, the streets were safe.

Minako looked at me and smiled. "Good night!"

A cool wind flushed across me and I put both my hands in my pockets. When I turned to Namie, she was already gone.

I looked at Kenta. "Thank you for the wonderful time," I said, bowing. "I'll be back again,"

Kenta bowed back. "Thank you. Please come again." He had a large bright smile.

As I walked back to the hotel, my mind was dazzled. The night went by so fast. Although I missed a chance to go to Kokusai Douri, I was feeling very good about the time spent at Yoruneko.