World War II didn't end with the atomic bomb—not really. For some, it lasted much longer.
For Tei Fujiwara, the end of the war meant one thing: flee. She was living in Manchuria with her family at the time, and they knew they had to get away, get back to Japan. But that wasn't an easy matter. Fujiwara spent months in...not quite an internment camp? But in terrible conditions, anyway. Her husband was sent to a camp with almost all the other men in their group, and nobody knew if those men would ever be seen again. Fujiwara was left, then, to care for her three small children with very little money even as their group of refugees fractured.
That's some of the most interesting material in here. Of the year Fujiwara spent as a refugee, almost all was in the company of the same group. But she does not tread softly when describing them—these were frightened people (mostly women) who brought with them all the personality quirks and irritations you'd expect in any group. Heat was expensive, and it was decided that only those who could afford to pay for fuel would have use of the rooms with stoves. The women who had children couldn't find work as easily as other women (and thus remained poorer), and the children made noise (as children do), and this bred resentment. One woman's abuse ultimately killed her stepson—although, oddly, it is that woman with whom Fujiwara sympathises.
But the book isn't interesting because she is critical of the people around her—it is interesting because she does not spare herself from criticism. These are human beings, not saints. Fujiwara is bitter, sometimes. Angry. She doesn't want her husband to leave her to deal with three small children. But, she says, It was a man's job to be strong, not sentimental (13).
She's a survivor. Beginning in March, such visions of death haunted me. In my visions—all four of us—me and my children died together. Sakiko, as a helpless baby, died without any protest. Masahiro looked at me with accusing eyes but silently did as I asked, and joined me. But Masahiko fought to the end, screaming and yelling that he didn't want to die. Such scenarios played over and over in my brain, and at the end of every vision, I found myself in a pool of tears. I'd scold myself, "No. No. I've got to return to reality. What am I going to do if that vision comes true? I've got to stay calm." (102) But every time she is plagued with depression, or so tired she cannot take another step, she finds a way to pull herself up. When her children are too tired to go on—and these were very small children—she gets them going any way she can, whether by cajoling or haranguing. She is determined that they will survive.
It's a hard life they have as refugees. People get ill. It is cold. They struggle to find work, to find food. Fujiwara resorts to scavenging at the market for scraps left on the ground; she sells individual bars of soap; she brokers a good deal to sell another woman's kimono and quietly pockets some of the money; any guilt she feels at deceiving this woman cannot stand up to her need to see her children survive. The doctor charged with keeping the refugees safe more or less gives up. Men gradually drift back in from the camps, wasted, returning only to die. When, finally, it is time to head home, Fujiwara walks her feet into bloody tatters to save money while she pays for her children to ride in a cart.
Fujiwara wrote this immediately after returning home, when she was so ill from the effects of her year as a refugee that she did not know if she, or all of her children, would survive. I wrote what I believed would be my last testament to my children, she says. But I survived. And those words were no longer a will. They became this book. I have nothing left to give to the world but this book. (316) That's perhaps both a source of strength for the book and a weakness—that she was still so close to the time she talks about. I would have loved more, too, from later; a bit about her recovery, and her children's recovery, and so on. (At the time of writing, she did not know what had become of her husband.) But it's a powerful story.
I received a free copy of this book via a Goodreads giveaway.