Until that time it had never dawned on Saburo that he might do something else. He had been wedded to Tozai and his lifetime was mortgaged to the company. But now that Alice had mentioned it, and as a result of his recent fiasco in the mandarin-orange affair, Saburo began to think that the possibility of doing something on his own should not have been entirely ruled out.
He did not know, however, what he was going to do, or how or when. Nor did Alice have any means of knowing it.
CHAPTER
10
Days multiplied into months and months into years, and Toshio was now six years old. Already a big baby when he was born, Toshio had grown to be a healthy, tall and handsome boy. He did not look like either Saburo or Alice. He was a fair-haired, blue-eyed lad—more European than Japanese-in fact, it was difficult to discern his Japanese extraction. He did have a Mongolian spot,* though, when he was born, and his rather flat nose somewhat bespoke his half-Japanese parentage.
Toshio had gone to a nearby primary school since the year before. He got on well with his classmates and playmates, for he behaved no differently from other pupils, his physical characteristics notwithstanding. Besides, Toshio was considerate toward others, a quality he no doubt had inherited from his mother.
One afternoon, Toshio came home unexpectedly, much earlier than the usual time, sobbing violently, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Alice was perturbed and asked Toshio what was the matter. He had calmed down a bit in his mother's arms and started to relate what had happened.
While playing on the school grounds, one boy suddenly called Toshio an ainoko [half-breed] and jeered at him. Then another boy came round and said that Toshio's mother was a crook and that he was not a real Japanese but a keto.* Thereupon Toshio in his anger seized the second boy and hit him hard. Then the rest of the boys-about ten in all-joined in the melee and everybody sneered at Toshio, saying that Toshio's mother was a thief. Against the overwhelming odds, forlorn Toshio was finally overpowered by the hostile gang.
Alice tried to comfort Toshio, but she herself was crying loudly.
"Toshio, don't you cry any more. Those kids are wicked and mischievous. Beginning tomorrow you don't have to go to that school."
"But which school am I going to, mother? Maybe boys in other schools will call me ainoko and bully me, too," Toshio said, sobbing.
Alice discussed the matter with her husband that night, and the next day went to St. Mary's School, an international missionary school on the Bluff, to apply for Toshio's entry in its primary section.
Since that day Alice had firmly made up her mind to leave Japan at an early opportunity, no matter what the cost.
In Tozai's Head Office a sweeping personnel change was announced, affecting some three hundred staff members. Tozai had not been doing well in recent months. The rival Tokyo Trading Company had at last surpassed Tozai in its volume of business transacted, as well as in the profit realized.
President Nozaki was thoroughly aroused and had said at a recent board meeting that the complacency of the staff and the lack of coordination among different sections and departments were responsible for the company's lamentable performance. Hence this unprecedented personnel change.
As expected, Saburo Tanaka was replaced by Togo, Director Sasaki's fellow alumnus and protege; Saburo was re-assigned to another section, the grain section, in the same foodstuff department. Director Sasaki was to continue in the same position.
Saburo now made up his mind to redouble his efforts to achieve better results in his new section, for he had been section chief for the last four years and unless he could do something outstanding, if not spectacular, his chances of climbing the next step of Tozai's ladder, to a position as director of a department, would be slim.
In the cutthroat competition which characterized the activities of trading firms in Japan, the most essential ingredient for success was aggressiveness. Poultry farming in Japan was booming at the time and the demand for imported chicken feeds was almost insatiable.
It so happened that Alice got to know the Japan representative of Andrew White, an internationally known grain broker. This representative was a man by the name of Robertson, an Australian. The Andrew White brokerage company had a spare stock of maize, 12,000 tons, in Chicago, which they were ready to sell at a discount. Saburo lost no time in signing a provisional contract, for if the information leaked out to other Japanese firms, there would have been a scramble and the price would have skyrocketed. Saburo was elated at this success, so soon after assuming the grain-section post, for the deal would bring the company a fat profit of nearly fifteen million yen.
So when Director Sasaki sent for Saburo one afternoon, Saburo was expecting a pleasant meeting with him. There was no reason whatsoever for the director of the foodstuff department to be displeased with the deal Saburo Tanaka had just consummated.
"Tanaka, it is about that 12,000 tons of maize. Why didn't you get my prior approval? Managing Director Sato, who is in charge of grain, is deeply disturbed about the procedural aspect of the deal. You are a mere section chief and you overstepped your power. I consider it a serious breach of discipline. The managing director himself is taking a serious view of the matter."
Saburo was astounded. What did it matter, so long as the company got a profitable business deal?
"Sir, it was a deal which had to be closed quickly and in utmost secrecy, since Tokyo Trading was beginning to sense that something was going on. Luckily I could get this deal because I knew Robertson, the Japan representative of Andrew White."
"I'm not asking you how you got this business," Director Sasaki persisted, still being difficult. "I'm questioning your overstepping my authority. You are not supposed to do any business by bypassing me, you understand?"
Anger was welling up in Saburo's mind. He almost wanted to slap Director Sasaki's face but restrained himself.
"If that is what you say, perhaps we should part company."
"You may sign a request for relief from your duties and I'll submit it to the board of directors for approval."
The next day Saburo wrote his request for resignation and mailed it to Director Sasaki. Saburo did not report to the office again, but stayed home.
It has been said that the Japanese worker's life resembles riding an escalator. All you need do is keep still and calmly wait until you reach the top floor. If a passenger tried to hurry up the steps or did something out of the ordinary he would cause much annoyance to his fellow passengers, and the smooth locomotion of the escalator would thereby be upset.
This was exactly what had happened to Saburo Tanaka on that fateful day in September, 1964.
But there was another aspect to the matter. Within the organization lurked keen rivalry and mutual distrust, so that all its members fought among themselves, against everyone else. The struggle for a livelihood was so intense that the Japanese man had to elbow his way through a crowd, both physically and metaphorically, almost from the cradle to the tomb. Such was the fate of the Japanese man so long as he lived in that overcrowded country.
Saburo now realized that the only way to escape from such a tragic situation was to leave the country, while the going was still good, to go wherever he could use his knowledge and experience to good account.
Alice, since that Weekly Mirror affair, had been winding up her activities. She had been looking quietly for someone who could take over the institute. After Toshio was abused and beaten up by his schoolmates Alice started discreetly to look for buyers for her Karuizawa holdings.
Now that Saburo had finally decided to quit Tozai, Alice asked him what he wanted to do.
"I've been in the foodstuff field now for over fifteen years and perhaps that is an area in which I can do something, though I have nothing definite in my mind."
"Robertson thinks there will be a serious shortage of meat in the years to come all over the world. Everyone wants to eat beef but there are not enough people willing to raise cows, nor enough land for them. Robertson was stationed
in Argentina before coming to Tokyo and he sees a great future for cattle farming over there. He says one can still get a thousand acres of good meadowland for about a hundred thousand dollars. Since you mentioned the line of business you would like to be in, I just remembered what Robertson told me," Alice said.
"But a hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. I shall only get about three million yen from the company as severance pay."
"I can help you, dear. That's why I've been working so hard since I came here. In my heart I've been dreading all along that something unexpected might happen to you or to me. Evidently in Japan the average man has no means of his own. Every man is living hand-to-mouth, because the government and corporations squander so much money.
"When you told me in Kyoto about your impression of a Japanese business firm and compared it to a mikoshi procession, or portable shrine march, I was very much interested. Now I'm glad that you are no longer one of those mikoshi bearers. I've saved up enough for our rainy days, and the rainy days have come."
"I personally think the cattle farming in South America is a wonderful idea. I should like to hear more about Argentina from Robertson. But are you ready to go to Argentina, of all countries, with me, Alice?" Saburo inquired.
"Now that I think of it," Alice replied, "many Scots have migrated to that country. One of my schoolmates back in Glasgow now lives in Buenos Aires. Her husband is manager of a meat-packing plant there. You know, Britain and Argentina have had very close relations for the last two centuries-economically, I mean. Bovril, that famous beef-essence maker, has plants there. From what Robertson tells me, Argentina seems to be a nice country. I also think that there is a great future for Toshio there."
Saburo went to the Tozai Head Office for the last time. As he entered his office to clear out his desk, everybody looked up at him. They all watched the outgoing section chief silently, but none of them came to speak to him. Apparently his former subordinates were no longer interested in Saburo but were already speculating as to who their next boss might be. Saburo realized how fickle and self-centered human beings are.
Suddenly Shigeru Goto, his close friend and colleague from London days, came in to see Saburo.
"It's a funny thing, how much junk you can accumulate in a few years," Saburo said as he threw papers and notes into a wastepaper basket.
"I know how you feel, Tanaka," Goto began. "We junior officers resent the measure the directors meted out to you. They tell us to increase our sales; yet our initiative is completely suppressed. This is a strange organization, our Tozai Trading."
"Goto, my conscience is clear. I've no regrets. I'm a free man at last, after almost twenty years," Saburo declared.
"Alice is a wonderful woman. I'm sure you both will be able to do something big and meaningful in the years to come. I rather envy you."
Goto had been the best man at Saburo's wedding. Saburo went in to see the chief of the personnel section at the appointed time.
"Tanaka, you have worked for the company with diligence and devotion and we appreciate it. I only regret that circumstances have forced you to sever your relationship with the company somewhat prematurely. Here is a check for three million yen. It is a small sum, I am afraid, but it is a token of our appreciation."
"Thank you, Sir." Saburo bowed deeply and left.
As he walked out of the Head Office for the last time, leaving behind the five thousand members of its staff, Saburo Tanaka had no pangs of regret. He felt he was a free man at last, completely free and independent. He could use his own judgment now, act according to his own convictions, take orders from no one. No more wining and dining at somebody else's expense, no more company golf tournaments, no more shuttling to and from the airport.
Memories suddenly came back thick and fast-memories of Tozai's London office, of dropping into Alice's office for occasional chats. Had it not been for Alice, he might still have been with the company.
At least he would never have known Robertson; but for his wife, the latest incident would never have occurred.
Yes, Saburo would have had to stay with the company had he not married Alice. Who else could have given him such moral encouragement to be free and independent, let alone the wherewithal to start his life anew?
Yes, it was fate, curious as it always seemed to be, Saburo reflected.
Saburo and Alice had called on Robertson several times since Saburo left the service of Tozai. Saburo was not sure what he could do in Argentina. He was therefore encouraged by Robertson's detailed accounts of cattle breeding there. Nature was bountiful in Argentina-equable climate, abundant rainfall, green, fertile pastures on which cattle grazed all the year round, plentiful native labor, plus the traditional European market for the export of meat.
At last Saburo saw a ray of hope in the darkness. Robertson knew several owners of big ranches and kindly offered to write to them to introduce the Tanakas and assist them if necessary.
Now that the Tanakas had definitely made up their minds to start a new life in South America they continued to wind up their personal affairs in Japan. They were busy running round every day, calling on friends and acquaintances, visiting government and diplomatic offices for visas and making other necessary travel arrangements.
Saburo realized how cumbersome human relations were in Japan. No important business could be transacted without an intermediary or introduction from somebody whom he knew. And it was necessary now to recall all these contacts and to express his appreciation suitably before he left the country. To Alice, most of these farewell calls seemed perfunctory and even unnecessary. Yet she had to accompany her husband on many such visits.
She now recalled her own visit to Director Sasaki's house, carrying a bottle of whisky with her, on that muggy July afternoon several years before, and realized how futile such efforts had proved to be.
One Sunday just before their departure, Alice suddenly remarked to Saburo, "We cannot leave Japan without calling on the Watanabes. Since today is Sunday, they must be at home."
So the couple went to the Tozai staff apartments outside Yokohama. Mrs. Watanabe, who was alone, was surprised to see the Tanakas.
"We've come to say good-bye to you, Mrs. Watanabe," Alice announced. "We are leaving for South America within a few days."
"Oh, to South America! Which country of South America? And what is your husband going to do there? Is Toshio also going with you?" Mrs. Watanabe inquired.
Neither Alice nor Saburo wished to divulge their plans prematurely; if they did, rumors, false or exaggerated, would run round like wildfire. So Alice did not go into details.
"We'll go to Argentina and stay in Buenos Aires for some time, as I have a few friends there. Today we have come to tell you how much we appreciated your extraordinary kindness at the time of the fire. We shall never forget your bravery and kindness and will be forever grateful."
"Oh, that was nothing. In Japan neighbors know each other well and help each other, you know. I had nearly forgotten about that incident until you reminded me," Mrs. Watanabe said breezily.
The S.S. Brazil Maru was in Kobe. The ship was to sail at six P.M. with some hundred passengers aboard, most of them steerage passengers bound for Santos, Brazil. The twelve first-class passengers included Mr. and Mrs. Saburo Tanaka, Master Toshio Tanaka, and several elderly American tourists who chose the Japanese ship to enjoy a leisurely trip to Los Angeles, Panama and the Atlantic ports of South America.
On their journey from Tokyo to Kobe, the Tanakas had stopped briefly at Nagoya to bid Genzo Tanaka and his wife good-bye.
"Father, we are going abroad again and have come to say good-bye," Saburo announced.
"Which branch office of the company are you going to this time?" his father asked, for Saburo had not told his father about his resignation from Tozai.
"To Argentina."
"How long will you be gone for?" the old man inquired.
"We don't know yet." Saburo did not wish to tell the truth. Already his parents had felt
that Saburo's marriage to a Western woman kept them from seeing much of their son and grandson, and Saburo suspected it. So he did not wish to give his aging parents added grief and despair.
"Please take good care of yourselves, Father and Mother." Saburo knew that he would never see them again, and had tears in his eyes as he uttered these few final words.
On the train journey down to Kobe Toshio was in high spirits.
"What kind of school will I go to in Argentina, Mother?" Toshio inquired.
"We don't know yet," Alice replied.
"I've asked Carlos about the schools in Buenos Aires. He told me there were many fine schools and pupils came from many different countries, like St. Mary's in Yokohama. Kids over there are very friendly and kind, Carlos said." At St. Mary's primary school, where Toshio had spent the last twelve months, he had become good friends with Carlos, a son of the Argentine consul in Yokohama.
Alice knew how mortally Toshio's sensibility was wounded when he was beaten up by his Japanese school-mates a year before. She thought that in a way racial prejudice in Japan, which erupted from time to time in a most virulent form, was as bad as apartheid in South Africa. At least she was glad that her son would not be subject to any such abuse or indignity in South America.
"Toshio, I'm sure Carlos is right. You'll find many good friends like Carlos in Buenos Aires," she said.
The Tanakas stayed overnight at the Oriental Hotel. Saburo suggested going to the famous Hamakuma restaurant for dinner. It was to be their last meal in Japan and Saburo was somewhat sentimental.
Saburo, Alice and Toshio all sat on the tatami floor and ordered an authentic Japanese dinner. Saburo was surprised to see Alice eating everything with relish, including the sliced raw fish. And how well she manipulated the chopsticks now!
"Now you like sashimi, don't you, Alice?"
"Yes, dear. Raw fish in Japan is all right. I think that the food of the country is best, because it is a product of many centuries' experience, like tea and kippered herring in England. It is most suited to its climate, and also the ingredients are readily available. I find sashimi here is wonderful."
Alien Rice; A Novel. Page 11
