Hisajo in the
Light of English Haikai Movement
Prologue: My
Courtesy Visit
The former Koromo
city with the pride of Koromo Castle was renamed as Toyota city
of TOYOTA in 1959. And in April, 2005, several surrounding
villages were forced to merge into Toyota city. One such village
was the destination of my summer trip.
.
Ever since Sugita Hisajo (1890~1946), was introduced in World
Haiku Review by Debi Bender and myself, I was hoping to pay a
visit to Hisajo's graveyard. My daughter and I were fortunate to
have caught the bus to Obara considering so little public
transportation is available in Toyota city. The bus took us out
into the countryside. At the final stop we were "saved"
by Mr. Ushida and his silver-gray car. He is the administrator
of the Business Promotion Agency affiliated to the former Obara
village. (My e-mail worked!) I presented him with my translation
of Hisajo's haiku as a token of my gratitude.
Hisajo came here as a 19 year old bride in 1909. She was said to
be breathtakingly beautiful in her furisode, a gorgeous
wedding kimono. People usually walked a good 10 miles of
mountainous path to get here. The Sugitas (the family Hisajo
married into) must have provided palanquins for the Akaboris,
especially for Hisajo, her mother and her sister. There was
neither a trace of Toyota factory nor a railroad connection in
those days. The villagers grew rice and tended silkworms,
produced rice paper and observed old ways.
Ushida san remembers Hisajo's grandchildren, sons of Masako Ishi,
Hisajo's elder daughter. In fact, the elder boy became his
playmate as the mother and boys continued to live here even
after the end of the war. In fact, they had evacuated their
Kamakura house fearing the U.S. air-raids. Unai Sugita, Hisajo's
husband (their grandfather) was a seasoned old man of fine
manners, in Ushida, the child's observation. "Yes," Ushida san related, "he scolded
the boys once in a while, say, when we broke items of the tea
house." I
learned anew that Unai retired immediately after Hisajo's death
at the age of 56, that was in the first winter after Japan
surrendered. He had been an art teacher in one high school in
Kokura city in Kyusyu island, for thirty-seven years and Kokura
was the place Hisajo spent the same thirty-seven years of her
married life.
As a successor to the Sugita estate, Unai cooperated to the GHQ
policy of redistributing land to each working farmer. Ushida san
explains that all households in the farming community of Matsuna
are now affluent thanks to the Sugitas (and
GHQ!).
"Did
he," I
asked, "ever try to teach art to village children?"
"Unai
sensei was known as art teacher who never paints," he answered, "his spare
time was spent hunting in the mountains."
What an enigmatic man.... Hisajo married in spite of her parents' initial
opposition. He was the top graduate of the top Art Academy in
Japan, having majored in Western Painting. In those, Meiji days
he was one of the very few who grasped art in the context of
Western painting. Young Hisajo looked up to the young
artist-to-be. She was focused in choosing her husband.
One sensational haiku by Hisajo confirms how frustrated she was
in her married life.
mending tabi socks
a teacher's wife
has not turned a Nora**
—Hisajo
1922
(tabi tsuguya Nora
nimo narazu kyohshi-zuma)
The driver of our
return bus was the same old man we had in the
morning. This must be a one-man operation. And the only other
passenger was an
old woman we had met in the morning bus. "Sugita-san was our
Respected
Land Owner," she
said, "and I have walked past their
impressive gate countless times since my childhood. I did not
know tourists visit their estate these days. Their elder
daughter, who was supposed to succeed the
family, married away, and the house turned like that..."
With Ushida san we
did see the gate. We also visited the family
graveyard in the back.
Hostas decorated the path along the foothill with their tiny
purple bloom. In her long posthumous name inscribed into the
tombstone three kanji characters were recognizable: Nil, Sorrow
and Blossom...
There no longer stands either a house, teahouse, or workshops.
Instead a statue of Kannon, the buddha representing maternal
mercy and a haiku stone are there on the main ground. It was
Masako who had these impressive monuments built... Masako's
respect and love touched me.
My daughter found a tiny green frog jumping along Hisajo's
awesome calligraphy carved into the stone. Ushida-san vividly
recalled how grand the tatami rooms were and how lively the
family life was. He ardently described the majestic carpentry
with which the house was built over a hundred years ago. In
parting he apologized for the lack of the official pamphlet,
saying, "we are still under the transition mess." Our eyes met
because he and I both knew it would be extremely hard to create
a
readable and accurate passage on Hisajo for the public.
Now I set my goal to create that not just for Japanese public
but for haiku lovers around the world. Masako, the daughter, had
struggled all her life for the cause to fully honor Hisajo in
the powerful world of Japanese Haiku. She once responded to my
letter saying, "I am trying, but the fire of my life is...."
That was when she was 92 years old. She passed away before I was
able to introduce Hisajo in the light of English haikai
movement. I dedicate this installed series to the spirits of
Masako and Hisajo.
clear rock drippings—
we see the tea house
when we close our eyes
—eiko
2005
(iwa-shimizu
omokageni tatsu chajiariki)
_______________________
Footnotes:
**Nora is the name of a woman protagonist in
A Doll's House by
Henrik Ibsen
I
read a drama
this winter night
dishes soak in the sink
—Hisajo
A Wave of
Moonlight – Women Poets of Japan
Haiku by Sugita
Hisajo
Classified and
translated by Eiko Yachimoto, 2001
Group 1:
Hisajo’s Feelings and Observations
Fun of writing
haiku—
Pine needles smoke
As the fireplace is lit
Each draws closer
Listening to the rain on kudzu
Our umbrellas touch
Spring firelight—
My heart dances as I choose tonight’s
Kimono
Into the ignoble
crowd
My heart has fallen;
I see innocent lilies
the cicada rain—
I sweep up the yard
bathed in mottled light
Group 2: Hisajo
as a Mother
Morning chill—
As I build a cooking fire
My child wakes up and finds me here
While I hand sew
A cranky child shakes my shoulders;
Oh, the hotness!
Enough of kana
practice
I let the children shell broad beans
Without a clue
I walk in search of my child—
Obana grass sways
Her feverish eyes
look so moist
Poor thing! She sucks an orange
Group 3: Hisajo
and Nature
Moistened soil:
All that buds
In Hisajo’s garden
Rich camellia—
On her figure, springtime
Of the mythical past
Skyward flapping of
their wings
The power of one hundred cranes
Ling’ring rain yet
magnolia
Hasn’t dropped its great white blooms
I grew up
Bathing in the emerald sea
Of everlasting summers
Group 4;
Hisajo’s Haiku with Astounding Intensity
Love for the hina
doll
Led me to cut and plant
A lock of my black hair
An autumn shrine—
Violently pulling her hair
A woman sobs
If compared with
thee
A mum on the field with no blood
Definitely favored
In a screwy
spiral
A leaf falls from the cliff
At blitz speed
Satan sticks to me
And won’t leave—
Red spider lilies
Group 5:
Hisajo’s light verses
Autumn’s here, I
can’t resist
To buy a little sapphire fish
When Mt. Asama’s
cloudy
Komoro gets rain; buckwheat’s bloom
Not enough rain has
fallen
On this sandy lot
Touch-me-nots bloom
Who stepped on
starfish
And sported with crabs?
Jolly, jolly seashore
A raised sail
gliding quietly
The lake in autumn season
Group 6:
Hisajo's religious haiku
pray tell where...
the shady asoka
blooms.........Buddha's birthday
fragrance...of roses
an elegy.....engraved into marble
entering the
house...I see lanterns
lit.......for one who died new
loneliness—
.....reading the Bible
.....as blossoms fall in the rain
window lights......
on a snowy path
tonight's the night.........of Noel
