Memories that cannot--and should not--be forgotten

Naomi Nakane, an elementary school teacher in her 30s, receives news of her uncle’s death. Her aunt, the titular Obasan, who had brought up Naomi and her brother Stephen, is now on her own. Naomi visits her and finds her very frail and distressed, but as always, unable or unwilling to speak of the tragic events surrounding her.

Aunt Emily, a tireless activist who works to obtain redress for innocent Japanese-Canadians discriminated against during and after WWII, sends Naomi a parcel containing war-time correspondence between family members as well as documents from the Canadian government, and urges Naomi to read them. But Naomi is hesitant to do so, not wishing to dwell on the past, especially her unhappy childhood.

Yet she needs to know what happened to her mother who, before the outset of war, had left Canada for Japan, and with whom Naomi had since lost contact. So, with much reluctance, Naomi finds herself reflecting back on her past, a childhood and adolescence ravaged by the war and its implications for thousands of innocent Japanese-Canadians caught in the midst of fear, hatred and greed.

As a 5-year-old, Naomi and her brother had lived an idyllic existence with their parents in a large house in Vancouver, B.C. But the war that pitted Japan against the Allies meant that innocent Japanese-Canadians (the Issei—first-generation immigrants born in Japan, like Obasan; the Nissei—second-generation Japanese born in Canada, like Naomi’s parents and Aunt Emily; the Sansei—third-generation Canadians of Japanese origin, like Naomi and her brother Stephen) were all targeted as a ‘security risk’ by the B.C. provincial government.

Accordingly, all Japanese-Canadians are forced out of Vancouver, their family homes and businesses taken from them. Families are fragmented, parents separated from their children, and communities destroyed. Many are forcibly repatriated back to Japan. Others are herded like animals into hastily set up temporary dwellings, suffering from malnutrition and exposure to the harsh Canadian winter. Mothers have no means to feed their babies or clothe their children, let alone themselves.

Naomi’s mother had gone to Japan before the beginning of WWII to visit her ailing grandmother. When Naomi’s father also become separated from them, Naomi and Stephen’s uncle and aunt (Obasan) become their surrogate parents.

They are first sent by train to a little ghost mining-town called Slocan (inland B.C.) where they spent a few years living in a little hut. Other Japanese families are also sent here, and they form a community of sorts, with a Japanese Catholic priest visiting the families and saying Mass. Naomi and Stephen go to school, but there is segregation, with the white folk not having much to do with the newcomers.

A few years later, long after the war is over, when Naomi and Stephen are teenagers, they are moved along once more, further away from the west coast. This time they end up in Alberta, again in a little hut not meant for human habitation in the winter months. Everyone undertakes the backbreaking job of beet-farming, under extremely harsh conditions.

The children are able to attend school where Stephen excelled. All along, Uncle and Obasan work tirelessly to keep the family together, with no fear or bitterness expressed in front of the children. Yet conditions are so atrocious that Stephen and Naomi know exactly what’s going on, even though it is not until late into adulthood that they find out why their mother had not contacted them and what had happened to her and her family in Japan during the war.

The author, Joy Kogawa, has written four volumes of poetry, two novels (in addition to Obasan) and a children’s book (Naomi's Road). She was born in Vancouver in 1935 and her biography reads in places much like what her character Naomi experienced during and after WWII. I think one can safely say that Obasan is, if not an autobiography, then at least semi-autobiographical.

Kogawa’s poetic leanings lend her writing in Obasan a lyrical quality. There are many instances of vivid and unusual metaphors, all striking and apt. Here, for instance, is Naomi following Obasan into the attic as the old woman persists in searching for some unnamed object. Naomi’s eyes light on a patchwork quilt her mother had made for her when she was four. ‘…we’re trapped, Obasan and I, by the memories of the dead—all our dead—those who refuse to bury themselves. Like threads of old spider webs, still sticky and hovering, the past waits for us to submit, or depart. When I least expect it, a memory comes skittering out of the dark, spinning and netting the air, ready to snap me up and ensnare me in old and complex puzzles. Just a glimpse of a worn out patchwork quilt and the old question comes thudding out of the night again like a giant moth. Why did my mother not return?’

When the chid Naomi’s father returns unexpectedly, she is overjoyed. ‘We do not talk. His hands cup my face. I wrap my arms about his neck…. I can feel his heart’s steady thump thump thump. I am Minne and Winnie in a sea shell, resting on a calm sea-shore. I am Goldilocks, I am Momotaro returning. I am leaf in the wind restored to its branch, child of my father come home. The world is safe once more and Chicken Little is wrong. The sky is not falling down.’

There are many more instances of beautiful, at times, lyrical writing. But an overwhelming sense of sadness pervades throughout the novel. Injustice is bitter as absinthe, as wormwood, and an entire lifetime is often not enough to rid oneself of the lingering memories. The innocent Japanese-Canadians have been silent for too long. By bringing their story to light, the author has joined the ranks of Naomi’s activist Aunt Emily.

Obasan won the Books in Canada First Novel Award as well as the Canadian Authors’ Association Book of the Year Award. Highly recommended.