They got off the street car in front of the aquarium and proceeded to the beach. Kapiolani Park, as this part at Waikiki was called, lay at the foot of Diamond Head, an extinct volcanic crater. It was a spacious, well kept ground with rows of ironwood trees along the road. In another section there was a huge banyan tree with its many roots supporting the spreading branches. Peacocks roamed about unmolested on the green, nestling in the branches of the banyan tree at night. Peacocks connoted royalty and their presence imparted to the young people an impression of wealth and distinction.
Another place that left a lasting impression on the young folks was the aquarium that housed the exotic, fantastically colored tropical fish. It was continuous "ahs" and "ohs" on the part of the girls. The contrast in the primitive colors on a single fish was so marked and decided that a painter could not have been so bold in his selection of colors. Unless one actually saw the fish, he would not believe that such creatures existed at all. From the beautiful Zebra-like martini to the ferocious sea-reptiles, the puhi, which showed their rows of jagged teeth on yawning, they wandered forth around the glass compartments like Alices in Wonderland.
"Now I know this fish," said Seikichi proudly to the crowd. "These are called ulua and make the best eating fish raw or cooked. They are the Hawaiian counterpart of tai."
The two girls said in unison pointing at the next tank, "This fish we know. It is called a turtle." All laughed together in loud childish glee.
They spread their luncheon on the green lawn underneath the coconut trees and as Seikichi wandered away to buy some soda water from the push-cart vendor of fruit and soft drinks, the edibles prepared by the maid that morning were being dished out. It was a jolly picnic, away from prying eyes and non-familiar faces. Being a week day, very few people loitered in the park. They felt as if they owned the vast playground. After partaking of the light lunch, the men sprawled on the ground and the girls sat with their legs stretched comfortably.
"Murayama-san," said Seikichi "you will be leaving for Hawaii tomorrow, and it may be a long time before we shall ever see each other again. But since our acquaintance began with our wives being on the same boat coming over, let us keep up our correspondence."
"I shall be only too glad to hear from you. You can depend upon my punctuality in answering. We are both trying to make our stay in Hawaii productive. I shall try my best to forge ahead. I hear that you have become a storekeeper already and I wish you all success. For my part, I have no proclivities in that line and must, stick to farming. But the country is full of opportunities and I intend to succeed. Originally, I had the idea of returning to Japan on the expiration of the three year contract, but now I feel differently. I am going to make enough money here to retire on in my old age."
Saying so much in the presence and hearing of his wife and her friend seemed both good and bad for Murayama. It appeared to be bombastic and boastful, an impression he did not want to create, but man to man it was an expression born of intimate camaraderie and understandable. As for his wife he did not much care. They had been sweethearts and knew each other's shortcomings and strong points as much as every lover pretends to know. Their first night they had mutually confessed that after five long years of waiting they both had matured physically, but on talking and exchanging views they discovered that they were the same. They both were children at heart.
So he continued, "But some day we shall come together again, I am sure. With money at our command, distance will shrink. We must see every island with our own eyes and it will be very convenient indeed when there is someone you know on the other islands. Be sure to look us up, as we shall expect to visit you in our turn." They talked and planned for the future, for they were young and optimistic. Hopefulness is synonymous with youth.
CHAPTER 6
The People Make Merry
THUS, A WEEK LATER, SEIKICHI AND HIS bride were landed at Port Allen, near Waimea. The arrival of the boat was not greeted with any gala throng as at Honolulu, for everyone was busy making a living. There were no lei girls with garlands of flowers. Only the few carriage drivers that made regular runs to different points on neighboring plantations were there to accommodate passengers. So, loading the luggage on the back of the vehicle the couple boarded for Makaweli.
As usual, Waimea was simmering with heat. The kiawe trees drooped heavily in the morning sun and the muddy Waimea River looked even dirtier. Only the towering mountains of Kokee that rose abruptly from the shoreland looked cool under the low clouds that seemed to perpetually cloak the summit. Little children, principally Hawaiian, were playing on the vacant ground near the river, while a few were intent on scooping opae, fresh water shrimp, in the shallow part of the stream. The winding government road meandered its way among tall, well-kept sugar cane that was about a year old. Cane did well. Heat, sunlight, and rainfall helped create a most prosperous farming community.
The carriage halted in front of Seikichi's store and they got off. The front approach had been swept clean by Obasan who had anticipated their arrival. After the houses and stores in Honolulu, this shop was unpretentious indeed. There was no ornament, no display, color, or devices to stimulate the urge to buy among his customers. The empty spaces near the shop could be improved with flower beds. A new coat of paint, probably green, might enhance the dignity and render the external appearance more pleasing. Furthermore, now that there was an extra member in the household there must be an extension to the rear of the store.
As soon as the carriage stopped, Obasan came running, along with her grinning three year old daughter. She immediately came to Seikichi and bowed slightly, "Welcome home," she greeted. Then turning to Haru, she made a formal bow, her hand reaching down to her knees. "This is my first meeting with you. I have been deeply obliged to Arata-san these many years. To you, I look forward to be favored in like manner." So saying, she bowed three times; once for each sentence.
Haru returned each bow with much bending and mumbled inaudible phrases; she could not manage to match this woman of thirty who was an old timer and more wordly wise. Even if she could outdo her in the art of formal greetings, it was best to appear and act demurely. Such tact is inborn in womankind.
To the shrewd woman, this helpless creature was likeable. There seemed to be no haughtiness. She could only sense bewilderment in the almost frightened eyes.
To Haru, the realization that here was a female with whom she had to become neighbors, made her a bit afraid. Words froze on her lips. No ingratiating smile would come to soften her taut facial expression. She was afraid her first impression was not good, but the Obasan liked her and took it upon herself to show her the ropes of plantation life. This newcomer was to be her protégé. She led her inside the house and helped her get settled. Like an elder sister she bustled around the place. In a short while, Haru began to feel at ease with her. She discerned that under the coarse exterior this woman had a considerate heart and a genuine fondness for her. At least there seemed to be no attempt at faultfinding and critical scrutiny.
That evening a stream of men and women made their way to the Arata Store to extend their welcome, but chiefly to catch a glimpse of the bride. It was a great event in the monotonous existence. Every new face in the established community was a new topic and became a subject about which gossip and conjecture spread far and wide, like a ripple on the water's surface.
Therefore, according to custom, an announcement party had to be held by Arata for his many friends and customers to make a formal presentation of his wife. Financially, such a party would not set him back very much as everyone invited was expected to bring some sort of gift, usually money. Custom decreed that this gift was mandatory, usually a dollar, whether they came or not. By using his head, Seikichi could make the expenditure low without impairing the quantity or quality of food served. He could ask Hawaiian natives to catch fish: several large ones to prepare as sliced raw fish and a dozen or so medium ones to cook intact would be sufficient. Opihi or shell fish and limu, the Hawaiian edible seaweed, would complete the necessary material from Neptune's domain. From the mountains or land, a medium sized pig might be procured for less than ten