CHAPTER 3
Proxy Marriage
A MARRIAGE BY PROXY WAS PERFORMED AT his home in Japan. The bride henceforth became an Arata and came to live with his family. She could not proceed to Hawaii right away, however. The law provided that six months had to elapse after the civil marriage before a passport could be issued to an emigrant woman.
Eight months later, Seikichi received a cablegram from the Yamashiro Hotel of Honolulu announcing the arrival of his bride. He had to take the next inter-island ship to the capital city. There was to be no secrecy now. He went to the community kitchen and said to the woman who ran the place, "Obasan, my wife has arrived at Honolulu and I must go fetch her on the next boat. For the next ten days I shall have to close the store. May I ask you to keep a general look-out about the store so that nothing untoward shall happen?"
Shocked, but not unpleasantly, she retorted sharply, "What kind of a secretive man are you! To think of our mutual acquaintanceship for the past seven years and you not telling me! I have a good notion to crack your head open. But now that you are married, I shall not, for a widow would come into being without even the consummation of the first night. No, no. That won't do. Bring her along quickly. We shall become friends, I know. Don't worry about the store. But surely this is news!"
In a few hours the entire camp got hold of the tidings. It was a sensation. Then special orders for many small purchases to be made in the city came from Seikichi's customers. He could again combine business with pleasure.
On the following steamer day, Arata went to Port Allen and boarded the Mikahala, a rickety old ship. The trip to Honolulu took twelve hours. He travelled steerage in the ship's hold, herded together with crates of chickens and barrels of souring poi. The sweet-sour smell peculiar to such closed areas, augmented by the odor of paint, assailed his rather sensitive sense of smell. A Chinese man came around and announced, "You likee mat to sleep? One fifty cents Honolulu." He realized that he could not lie down on the dirty floor, nor could he stay erect as he was being overcome by the terrific stench. Fare was two dollars, but he wished he had paid more for comfort as a cabin passenger. He compromised and borrowed a piece of mat on which he was able to rest in a recumbent position. Holding a handkerchief over his nose, he was barely able to contain his uneasy stomach. Here and there, retching of sea-sick passengers made the situation worse.
Out in the open channel, the little tub began to dip and roll. He closed his eyes and passed in review the different events that had taken place in the seven years of his Hawaiian sojourn. Everything had proceeded favorably. Now at twenty-nine, he was to embark upon a new life. This bride of his must be a sweet young thing, but he must never spoil her. Time and again, he had been told that like a colt to be broken to the saddle, the vital question as to who was to be master in the house must be declared by act from the very start of conjugal life. Japanese girls were different from white women: they were trained to be deferential to the male sex. But feminine wile, amply demonstrated by the women on the plantation, was ever the dominant force in family life even among Japanese. It seemed by some subtle persuasion or occult power they gradually assumed the rein in family life. Wise men of old, knowing this truth about human relationships, had tried by family discipline and Confucian precepts based on The Manual for Women to moderate female ascendancy. In this respect, Japanese elders were more advanced than the Occidental leaders of old.
Oriental sages of yore had said, "There is no prosperity in a family where the hen crows" or "The chance to sell the family cow was bungled because the woman was too smart." He had never paid such attention to such sayings, but tonight every adage that he could recall seemed to have a weighty importance.
Even on the plantation, the way white women bossed their men around was disgraceful. A good Japanese woman would die before she would have her shoe string tied by her husband in public view, as long as she was in health. If that was Western culture, he wanted her to stay Japanese and not acquire such obnoxious notions. Yet, women were said to be funny creatures. Crazy ideas were contagious. He heard someone say, "Women are so lacking in judgment of good taste that if some leading society ladies should go naked, the majority would fall in line and go about like Eve just to be in style." He did not want her to be such a light butterfly. He must train her right. Obasan, the cook, was a good woman to emulate. In spite of her garrulousness, she had common sense and was a hard worker. She had no foolish notions about easy life. Her life revolved about her husband and children. It was fortunate that the two would be thrown together.
He fell asleep despite the pounding of the ship's machinery. Only once did he awaken to find himself lying on the hard floor and keenly aware of the engine noise. Then he knew he was on his way to Honolulu. He smiled contentedly, turned over on his side, and returned to his slumber.
Most of the immigrant hostelries were situated around Aala Park. To one of these, the Yamashiro Hotel, he proceeded in a hack—a rubber wheeled carriage drawn by a single horse. The distance was not far, the unpaved road dusty, and the day beastly hot. The exorbitant price of twenty-five cents for the ride did not seem so bad when he was spared of this walk on such a hot day. There were about a half a dozen men in the hack that were going to the same hotel. Everyone was excited and it was hard to keep still. They went back and forth to the little grocery store next door to buy soft drinks and nibble at flavored shaved ice. Ice was a commodity of luxury on the plantations. Dressed in their Sunday best, uniformly in heavy, black woolen suits, it was very uncomfortable on such a hot day. When the groom did not have a suit himself, some friend would loan his for the occasion. Even the stiff celluloid collar seemed to wrinkle and lose its shape under the drenching from perspiration. Mr. Azumi, the hotel manager, appeared and announced in a smiling tone, "There will be nothing to do until one o'clock in the afternoon. It may be best for you all to have a morning nap followed by a good bath. You all appear worn out after the night's voyage. First impressions are very important, you know. You must look your best."
"What do we do when we get to the Immigration Station?"
"You just produce her picture, identify her, and bring her here. Then we take you to a minister and have you go through a religious ceremony. Here in Hawaii, it is considered good taste to have a church marriage. Anyway, with this group I don't look for any trouble. You are all young and rather good looking. But sometimes there is the dickens to pay. The bridegroom and photograph don't match and he who tried to have some other do his long distance courting would meet his Waterloo at this critical stage. We have had several such cases. Fortunately, some girls became resigned to their fate and are good wives and mothers today.
"With other more spirited ones, it was not so good. Gamblers, and you know there are many in Honolulu, got scent of these unsavory cases and had pestered them like vultures would a stinking carcass. In the end their, promise of an easy life in the city along a primrose path lured the women away. The fate of these women is sad and deplorable. Today, they live as prostitutes in Chinatown. So I admonish you all. In this community where women are scarce, you must treat your wives with consideration. The concept of the old country concerning women must be modified a little. Don't let them feel discontented. Don't take them for granted. You know, I am quite sure, of the number of wives that run away with other men. Seducers are everywhere. Whatever is said in the final analysis, the secret of a happy marriage is to love her well. So, now until the hot bath is ready at eleven o'clock, you had better go to bed." With such fatherly advice, the experienced hotel manager left them to masticate the contents of his message.
Among the men there was one about twenty-six years old to whom Seikichi took an instant liking. "I am Seikichi Arata from Kauai. You are evidently from another island. How was the trip?"
"Thank you. My name is Tarao Murayama and I am from the Hamakua coast of the Island of Hawaii. I came over on the Kinau this morning. It was a twenty-four hour