of his bride must be a complete surprise. Seikichi by this time was quite a businessman. As an after-thought he went around among his friends, organized a tanomoshi, and raised three hundred dollars under the pretext that further capital was needed for his active little shop.
When money was needed, it was obtained in a singular manner. A financial institution of mutual assistance among the common people of Japan evolved slowly during the centuries in a country without banks. It was meant to escape the predatory menace of usurious moneylenders. In Hawaii, happily, there was as yet no man of this vampire class, but the people did not forget the blessings of the tanomoshi system, which worked as follows. A fellow in need of a lump sum of cash would get together with his friends and ask for help. If twelve men, a convenient number, comprised this group, they would each contribute a fixed monthly sum of about ten dollars. The first month's proceeds of one hundred and twenty dollars was to go to the fellow in need of the money. Beginning with the second month, the remaining eleven had a chance to bid for the pot. The highest bidder got the money but he had to pay the other ten dividends, equal to the figure of the bid. This "return" was at least "ten percent. Sometimes it went as high as thirty percent. The longer one refrained from "taking" the tanomoshi, the more profitable it would be because the competition would be less keen and the dividend payment smaller towards the end. If he was the last, he would receive the one hundred twenty intact in addition to the monthly dividends he had been acquiring.
It was a convenient way of raising cash and a most profitable way of increasing funds for those that had money lying idle. The system operated so successfully that in later years other nationalities joined their Japanese friends in order to get better returns than banks were paying. Since there was no security or collateral and the system was based on credit and character only, it was not surprising to find absconders and deadbeats who betrayed their trust to the grief of trusting friends. That it continued to function in spite of these setbacks and in the face of commercial banks later on, is based on the soundness of its basic concept and simplicity of conduct to the satisfaction of all. Besides, it was a splendid way for friends to get together each month for a social affair and invariably a little refreshment was served at each meeting. There was no kow-towing to bank managers; there was no burden on the borrower in this arrangement.
Arata had two such tanomoshi of fifteen months each. He then sent three hundred dollars to his father with instructions to shop in the wholesale houses of Osaka and gather inexpensive articles of luxury and material suitable for male and female kimono. The material could be brought by his bride. In spite of the dusty toil that women had to endure, he knew human nature and its foibles enough to discern that attractive kimono and a desire for finery were not forgotten. To decorate and strut was not a monopoly of peacocks. To present a line of novel and attractive merchandise was the secret of commercial success. Combining marriage with business was not altogether bad. He prided himself tremendously for this masterful stroke of business acumen.
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
