Imera came over yesterday to do some cleaning for MamaCharlie. She is a fanatic cleaner and wanted to do it as a kind of Christmas present for her good friend. So we were up late the night before, doing some cleaning so Imera wouldn't think we weren't cleaning at all. Before I went to bed that night, I sat up talking with MamaCharlie about a variety of things. One of the things was the idea of cleaning before the cleaner showed up. It reminded me of the period in my life when we had a maid.
The Chief came down on orders for Japan and ten days later he was there. We were left behind to do the pack-out, get the shots, the passports, wait on orders, board the plane and fly. That took about two months. The Chief met us at Tachikawa AFB and took us to our new house in Hayama. If you have seen the old movie, "Sayonara", you have seen Hayama. Much of the location shots were done in the Hayama-Zushi area. Living on the "economy" (military lingo for living among the natives, not in the little USA communities usually referred to as "housing")in Japan was a culture shock. The first Japanese person I personally met was a retired Geisha named Fuji who owned a beauty shop in Hayama and acted as a cultural liaison between newly arrived military families and the local neighbors. She tried to get families involved in the activities of life in Hayama and to ease them into the local expections. If you lived on the economy, you were classified as either a "Numba one" family, which meant you were assimilating and accomodating, or a "Numba ten" family, which meant you were not. Or worse, you were arrogant and had a "we-won-the-war" mentality.
One of the things that was hard to adjust to was the idea that we were suddenly a wealthy family...by comparison, anyway. And as such, certain considerations were expected of us, the most important of which was to hire a maid. This was necessary not only because a family of our status should have a maid, but also to support the economy of our neighborhood by putting a deserving lady to work. At first, Betty Lou resisted until Fuji-san explained that it would really disappoint the community and reflect poorly on our family if we didn't have a maid. So she relented and Fuji introduced us to a lady and a wage was agreed upon and a start date established. And we were called to service, cleaning the little house from top to bottom. Betty Lou didn't want the new maid to think we lived in a dirty house.
Early on the morning of her first day, Isa Tajima showed up to assume her duties as our maid. We had to be roused up early (it was summertime, no school!!) to make our beds, round up the dirties, and clean things up. We spent a few minutes saying our hellos and all that. Then Isa, who preferred to be called "Mama-san", looked around the house, noted where everything was located, looked under the beds where the dustbunnies had been evicted an hour before, saw the washing machine churning away with the latest dirty clothes, the clean dishes stacked in the drainer, and all the gleaming hardwood floors. She came back to the living room, where we waited patiently, and, with a quizzical look on her face, asked Betty Lou, "What you want me to do?"
For the next two years, Mama-san was much more than a maid. She was a life-guide, coach, interpreter, teacher and friend. She would go shopping with Betty Lou, chiding the merchants and jabbering a million miles an hour and getting the absolute lowest price on every purchase. If Betty Lou bought something on her own, bartering vigorously as Mama-san had taught her, Mama-san would tsk and shake her head and claim Betty Lou had spent too much. There were days when Betty Lou felt embarassed at how little she paid for some items, but Mama-san was fiercely protective and loyal and would allow no gouging.
We became involved with Isa's family. Her husband had been a professor in Tokyo before the war. When we met them, he was a gardener. They lived in a small house on the edge of Hayama with several children. I don't recall how many there were; I do remember one brother. And there was Amy. Isa's daughter Amy was beautiful and aspired to be in movies. She had an opportunity to audition for a role in a movie being shot locally, but needed a new dress, something that would make her look really foxy. Betty Lou gave her a red dress that did the trick and Amy got the part.
Other than some simple quirks, like refusing to put milk in the mashed potatoes, or some personality quirks, like muttering about things as she scurried about, association with Mama-san was equivalent to a college-level course on Japanese life and culture.
I look at our stay in Japan as one of the best times in our family. My dad, The Chief, was able to overcome his experiences and feelings about the Japanese, his deadly enemy of only thirteen years before, and embrace the opportunity to be in a new environment, a new lifestyle. Betty Lou overcame her reluctance to have a maid in service to her and gained a life-long friend. Little Sister, locally a favorite of almost rock star popularity, and I were exposed to a whole new world, a pretty danged cool one, too. We danced on the beach in summer festivals, shopped in markets and stores, travelled on trains and buses to amazing places (I have stood face to face with the Great Buddha in Kamakura and walked through the Ginza in Tokyo). And every step of the way we were tutored and trained by Isa and Fuji. They made our lives rich...richer than we ever believed they could be.
Betty Lou and Fuji BFD, Amy, and Isa