116

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The White Cross

1946 North Korea

Church bells rang gracefully across the May sky. Along with the sound of the church bells, the breeze carried the smell of bud- ding plants to every corner of the town. A group of well-dressed Koreans gathered at the church—amongst them a man in a white robe laced with deep, dark blue trim, and a woman with a bright red skirt. The sound of the Sunday church bells rang out gently in the calm spring air.

I stood there casually watching the people. My five year old son Masahiro had a fever since morning and so I asked Mrs. Kurashige to go in my place to the weekly Japanese Association meeting in the afternoon. Dancho Narita hadn’t attended the meetings for a long time. He was still not well and even if he got up, soon he’d have to lie down again. So Mrs. Kurashige and I had taken over all the diplomatic matters for our dan.

“Mommy.” I heard Masahiro’s voice from his bed. “What’s wrong, Masahiro-chan?”

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“My throat hurts.” Masahiro didn’t want me to leave his side. Unlike his little brother, my young son was usually not so clingy. Even when he had a cold he patiently lay alone in his bedding. It was strange that day, that he spoke in such a sad, needy way. In the afternoon, his fever rose. He complained that his throat hurt and it was difficult to breathe. “Perhaps it’s just a cold,” I thought. “But remember how bad his younger brother Masahiko’s cold became?” So this time, I decided to stay by Masahiro instead of performing my fuku-dancho duty. When the sun set, his fever sud- denly shot up higher. He was so hot, steam rose off of the wet cloth I placed on his head.

“It must be pneumonia,” I said. Mrs. Toda went to fetch Dr. Oya but he wasn’t there. Appar- ently he was gone to tend to three patients who were near death and couldn’t get away. Masahiro breathed heavily through his mouth and nose, and I heard a rattling sound from the back of his throat.

“Something is wrong,” Mrs. Toda said. We asked Mrs. Daichi to listen. She said she could hear that rattling sound as well. I worried that Masahiro had caught that frightening contagious disease, diphtheria. Mrs. Daichi tried to reassure me and said, “Mrs. Fujiwara, it’s all right. It couldn’t possibly be that disease spreading here.”

If it was pneumonia, for Masahiro that was a serious, grave situation. But if it was diphtheria...I couldn’t just sit there. No- ticing my agitation, Mrs. Toda ran again to get Dr. Oya but he still wasn’t there. That night there was no wind at all, and in the hazy moonlight, several large dark shadows loomed. The water I pulled up from the well was icy cold. A halo glowed around the moon as it rose higher while I went back and forth between the

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well and the house to rinse the cloth.

Masahiro started twisting his body uncomfortably. His face was red, his eyes bloodshot and his body convulsed with the dif- ficulty of breathing. Watching him was torture. suddenly, Masa- hiro sat up and trembled.

“What is it?” I cried and stopped wringing out the wet hand cloth. Dark, foul smelling blood and pus gushed out of his nose.

“Oh!” I held Masahiro in my arms and whispered for help, “Hurry, go get Dr. Oya!”

Mrs. Toda had been by my side, watching Masahiro. She went running. I waited and listened for their footsteps, “Are they back yet, are they back yet?” I only heard one pair of feet instead of two return.

Mrs. Toda gasped, “Dr. Oya was there but he didn’t come. He told me that it must be diphtheria. He said we might as well give up. I begged and begged him to come but he said that as long as we didn’t have the diphtheria serum there was nothing he could do. He said it costs about one thousand yen for a diphtheria injection. “

I thought about going to the doctor myself to beg him one more time, but then when I thought about what happened with Mrs. Daichi’s husband, I knew there would be no use in going to Dr. Oya. I asked Mrs. Toda and Mrs. Daichi to watch the children, and I rushed in to town to find another doctor. But I didn’t know the layout of the town. I knew where one small hospital was, but they didn’t have anyone on night duty. I knocked on their door, but no one woke up.

I returned home and waited anxiously for dawn to break. The question, “how am I going to find one thousand yen for the serum?” tormented me all night. I only had about a hundred yen

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left in my wallet. I used up the one thousand yen hidden in the corn husks. The only thing I had left was the Longines watch, still hidden in the bar of soap. I despaired, “How much would I get if I sold that watch to a local watch dealer?” The other day, Mrs. Toda sold her wrist watch for two hundred yen. From that I guessed I would, at the most, get about two or three hundred yen. There was nothing else I could sell. Even if I were to borrow that money, there were no Japanese who had that much cash.

“One thousand yen. One thousand yen—how...how am I go- ing to make that?” Such thoughts raced through my mind as I held Masahiro and agonized while everyone else slept through the night. I made my plan: the first thing I could do when dawn broke was to go to Old Man Gomi and his wife to borrow some money, then I would collect as much money as I could from my dan, and sell the watch. Could I collect one thousand yen with all that? It didn’t seem possible...but as I looked at poor Masahiro’s anguished face, blood streamed down his face, and I suddenly saw the Japanese cemetery.

“Damn,” I cried fighting off the horrible vision. I became fran- tic and knew that somehow I was going to have to overcome that premonition. Morning finally arrived. I left Masahiro and ran to Old Man Gomi’s place. He came out in his usual manner, shoul- ders narrowed and back bent. His wife also came out. I blurted out my case.

He said, “That is too bad. What can we do? We don’t have much money. “ The old man paced back and forth in the narrow hallway, blinking his eyes helplessly. I wanted him to lend me two hundred yen—even just one hundred yen. I lowered my- self like a miserable street beggar. “Please even a hundred or two hundred yen...” I swallowed my pride, and pleaded and begged.

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The old couple looked at each other helplessly.

They didn’t say anything but I realized from the look on their faces. “It’s no good!” I said to myself. My head almost burst with feelings of worry, shame and frustration—but in the end, they couldn’t help me. I didn’t bother to say anything else to the old couple, and rudely left. I didn’t even try the Japanese Association. Next was the watch shop. The night before, I had melted the soap to get the watch out. I clutched it now to my chest and ran into the store.

The store owner was startled when I came rushing in a panic. When I demanded five hundred yen, he didn’t even look at my watch. He turned me down, saying, “Right now even the best watches go for around three hundred yen. A pocket watch like yours would much cheaper than that.”

These days the town was full of watches. More and more des- perate Japanese from Manchuria sold their watches to anyone who would buy.

“So how much can I sell this for?” I asked. “Well, at the most, it would be two hundred and fifty yen.” The shopkeeper said this without enthusiasm and tried to go slip in to his back room. I had to somehow get five hundred yen for this watch. But at the next shop they also offered only two hun- dred and fifty yen.

“I must not panic. If I panic, I will lose. I must sell this Longine for five hundred yen.” saying this mantra to myself, I went into a third watch shop, but suddenly felt I had to see Masahiro who was still at the house. When I got back I saw that Mrs. Toda had wiped more blood from Masahiro’s nose.

her face white with fear, she said, “Mrs. Fujiwara, unless a doctor sees him soon...” I asked Mrs. Toda to help me lift Masa-

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hiro. his body limp across my back felt like a burning fire ball as I ran to the biggest hospital in the town. There was no one in the waiting room. I gave Mrs. Toda the watch and asked her to raise the money. I prayed that somehow she would be able to do it. We were taken into the examination room. The doctor looked at Masahiro’s throat, left the room and came back with another doc- tor. The two doctors examined Masahiro in turn.

“It is diphtheria,” they said. Those words were a death sen- tence.

The doctor saw the look on my face and said, “I am so sorry to say this, but we have no diphtheria serum here. Hurry and take him to the Salvation Hospital. They may have some there.”

“Do you know how much the serum will cost?” I asked a small female doctor who stood nearby.

“Probably about a thousand yen.” she said as she looked with pity at Masahiro.

I ran into the street with the doctor’s directions to the Salva- tion Hospital. When I crossed the bridge I saw the tall red-brick tower of the church above the other buildings. The Salvation Hos- pital was next to the church. A large white cross stood above a big wooden placard with the English words, “Salvation Hospital.”

“This hospital must be run by the church,” I told myself. Inside it felt like a different world. I went through the front gate, across a beautiful lawn, and noticed the green leaves of the willow trees in sharp contrast to the white building. Right away they took me and my son into an examination room. On the ta- ble, there were Japanese and German medical books lined up. A young Korean doctor sat behind the desk. He looked up at me with kind eyes as I walked in.

“What seems to be the matter?” he said as he looked at Ma-

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sahiro who was taken off of my back. I told him what had hap- pened. He listened carefully and then said, “Let’s take a look,” and took out his stethoscope.

“Yes, it’s diphtheria and it is quite advanced. I can see the white spots in the back of his throat.” He spoke calmly as if he were lecturing me and the assistant who stood nearby.

“Prepare the serum right away for the injection,” he ordered the assistant and then busily cleared the area.

“excuse me, doctor, how much will the injection cost?” The doctor turned around and looked at my face searchingly. I saw his face soften from a look of concentration to one of com- passion. I held onto Masahiro and broke down crying.

I said, “I am sorry, I do not have a thousand yen. My friend, Mrs. Toda is trying to collect as much money as she can and will come here later...but there will not be close to one thousand yen. But please help my child, please help him...”

I could no longer look at the doctor’s face. It was as if a veil fell over my eyes. I only saw the doctor’s white coat reflected inside a prism of tears. The white coat came closer. “Okusan, we are ready for the injection. Please turn your child this way.”

The doctor’s voice rang through my head like a sharp bell. He understood my situation. I did as I was told. My tears flowed as he promptly gave the injection. Without any change in his man- ner, the doctor quietly finished and then said, “he is all right now, Okusan.”

“Thank you very much,” I blurted out, but all I could do was cry.

“excuse me, Mrs. Fujiwara,” the door opened a sliver, and Mrs. Toda peeped in. she had waited until the injection was done. I looked at her and knew right away that she hadn’t been able to

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raise the money. I went into the hallway with her.

“Mrs. Fujiwara, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get more than three hundred yen together. And no matter where I went they wouldn’t offer more than two hundred and fifty yen for the watch. so I brought it back with me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Toda. I’m surprised you were able to find us here.”

“Yes, the female doctor at the other hospital told me.” I took the watch and the three hundred yen and went to the examination room. I decided to tell the young doctor everything. First, I would have to apologize.

“I am sorry, Doctor. I don’t have my money ready. I know I am wrong to ask a favor of you after you’ve already given the injection.” Then I explained everything to him and the doctor lis- tened in silence.

“Madam, who said anything about paying a thousand yen?” he asked me in a gentle tone.

I thought, “That was true, I had determined for myself that the price was a thousand yen.”

I said, “I’m sorry. The people at the other hospital said...” The doctor interrupted me saying, “I haven’t written any bill yet.” The doctor smiled very gently as he said this. “Let me see the two hundred and fifty yen watch.” he took the Longines watch from my hand and placed it on top of the sheet of paper lying on the table.

He said, “Well, it really is a Longines watch.” The doctor looked at me. “This used to be your husband’s?” “Yes, it was. He had it since before we were married.” “Pardon me, but can I ask what your husband was doing?” “He used to work at the meteorological station in Manchu-

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ria.”

“He was a scientist, wasn’t he?” he said. I didn’t answer his question. The doctor took the Longines and placed it next to his ear. As he listened to its second hand, he went deep into thought. The examination room was so quiet I heard that second hand echo.

Finally, he said, “I will accept this watch as the thousand yen payment.”

As he declared this plainly, he said something very quickly in Korean to the accountant who was sitting in the corner of the of- fice. The accountant didn’t seem to agree with the doctor and he opened his eyes wide in disbelief. “I will cover the bill.” This time the Korean doctor spoke very clearly in Japanese. The accountant still didn’t seem to agree completely. The assistant stood up and explained the situation to the accountant. I was just in a daze. But I felt I mustn’t take advantage of this man.

so I got up, “You are doing too much. Please take this three hundred yen.”

The doctor shook his head and motioned me back. When it appeared that everything was settled, he returned to his seat and instructed me, “Tomorrow, please come here again.” Then he motioned with his eyes to the assistant to let the next patient in.

As I stood up to go, he said in a quiet voice, “Don’t lose hope, Madam. Keep up your spirits until you return to Japan.”

Mrs. Toda waited in the hallway. We walked out together through the front door. As we walked by, I thought of the Ameri- can missionaries who built this red-brick tower so many years ago—the church spire seemed to soar before my eyes. The bells that rang out joyously every sunday gleamed in their black paint, and were now silent. I turned back once more to look at the Salva-

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tion Hospital sign, and quietly lowered my head in front of the white cross. Now I began to have faith that Masahiro would live and get better. I started to go across the same bridge I had ear- lier crossed in a desperate panic. Halfway, I stopped and looked down on the spring waters which flowed beneath the bridge. The river was an opaque blue-green, like the leaves of the willows dragging along the sides. From both grassy green banks of the river, Korean women did their wash. Their robes reflected beauti- fully in the river, the white images shimmered and danced, and made the river stand still.