War of the Eagles (2 page)

Naani put aside her beans and took the rabbit out of the sack. She pulled a sharp knife out of the sheath hanging around her waist. First, she made circular cuts around each of the four paws. Then, a similar cut around the neck. Next she turned the rabbit over and made a cut, not too deep, along the whole underside. She peeled the skin away from the carcass. The pelt parted from the flesh with a tearing sound.

I was always amazed at how she did it. It was like watching somebody peel a banana. It seemed so ef–fortless. The whitish carcass, ringed with blue veins, was separated from the skin. Within two minutes she'd finished and dropped the entire pelt, all in one piece, to the floor of the porch. It was so perfect you'd think she could sew it back on and send the rabbit on its way.

“Jedidiah, go and get me a couple of pots.”

In the short time it took me to go to the kitchen and come back, she'd already started to gut the rabbit. She now had an audience. The two stray cats that lived around our village were sitting in the dirt by the porch, watching her every move. They saw me coming and moved farther away.

“What's with those cats? Why don't they like me?”

She smiled and tossed a small piece of rabbit gut in their direction. They both scrambled after it. “Cats like people who like them.”

“What's to like, they're just a couple of cats. Dirty and flea bitten. They're always just here. Who owns them anyway?”

“Nobody. They're cats. Nobody owns cats. For a smart kid you's sometimes not so smart.” She tossed two more pieces of rabbit gut to them.

“Here let me give them all the guts,” I suggested. “Maybe that'll make me more popular.” I liked the meat, not the middle, and figured this was a good way to get rid of the parts I didn't want to find in my stew.

“The guts are the best part. Heart, liver, stomach. Best parts.”

She gave me a knowing smile. She knew what I was thinking. It was almost spooky the way she did that, although it explained where my mother got her ability from.

“Yuck!” I answered, scrunching up my face. “Guts are for cats, not for people.”

“You may be half native but your belly is full white,” she chuckled as she reached over and grabbed my stom–ach. Her hands were still dripping with rabbit guts and I scrambled away from her hold.

“Tadashi's parents say I eat like I'm Japanese.”

“Japanese, white, it don't matter,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “All the same to me. I can't tell one apart from the other. Maybe that's the problem with the grub. I've been cooking the guts. If you have a Japa–nese stomach you'd probably like it raw, like the fish. Go down by the cats and I'll toss you a couple pieces of guts too.”

“You know, old woman,” I said, smiling back at her, “I think the hunter should get to choose how the food should be prepared.”

“Shows how much you know. The one doing the cooking is the one who's in charge.”

When it was just me, my mother and father living together, my mother would cook to please my dad. Meat and potatoes, boiled or steamed. Now, with just me and mom living with her, my Naani had done most of the cooking and I had to learn to eat things I'd never even considered food before. If it swims or floats in the ocean, runs or grows in the forest, my Naani knows how to cook it.

“I'm gonna fix this rabbit up good. Make a stew … let it simmer all day … the way your mama liked it when she was a girl. It's good to see all that white food hasn't spoiled her tongue.”

“Is Mom coming home tonight?” I knew the answer but wanted reassurance.

“She been gone for four days. Should be back to–night.”

My mother worked as a cook up at the new army camp. She worked for four days, then she was off for four days. The four days off were good. The four days she worked were long. With my Naani around, not to mention all my relatives and Tadashi, I was never alone. It was just that I missed her.

It was even harder than having my father gone. Be–cause he was a bush pilot, I was more or less used to him being away, sometimes for months at a time if he was flying for some mining company up north. Of course, if the job was going to last longer, me and mom would join him, rent a house and live in that town. I've lived in little towns in B.C., Alaska and the Yukon. That's one of the reasons I resented us coming up here to live now. Finally for the past two years we'd stayed in one place. I started and finished the year in the same school, got to know some kids and felt like I had a real home for the first time.

The army camp wasn't far away, and sometimes I'd go up and see Mom on her four-day shifts. Lately though, since that new major arrived, it hadn't been as often. He told her it was a military base and “unauthorized civilians” weren't supposed to be snooping around. What did he think I was, a German spy?

Of course, he was partly right. I did spy on what they were doing. Tadashi and I often sat off in the trees and watched the soldiers running around, cutting things down and putting up buildings. Funniest thing I ever saw was them trying to get a jeep out of a bog. By the time they were finished they'd almost lost a second jeep, the one they thought would pull out the first. Little by little, over the past two weeks the jeep had been sink–ing deeper into the ground. Last time I checked, it was more than half buried. I'd heard they were waiting for the ground to dry up. They didn't know Prince Rupert very well ‘cause they were going to wait forever if they were waiting for a dry spell to come.

“I need you to go to Rupert for me and pick up a few things,” Naani said.

“Rupert! Sure! Tadashi's coming over this morn–ing and he could come with me. That is if you say it's okay.”

“Fine by me. It's better he go with you anyhow. Rupert isn't like it used to be with all them soldiers and government men running ‘round. Not so quiet, not so friendly anymore. I don't even like going.”

“You never liked going there. Besides, I think it's got better since it got busier.”

“Busier yes. . . better no,” she said. “Something can't be busier and better at the same time. Now listen and I'll tell you what I need.”

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“Prince Rupert, definitely!” Tadashi replied enthusiasti–cally. “My parents don't like me to go there, but if we're doing something for your grandmother then it's okay.”

One of the things the Japanese and the Tsimshian share is respect for age. They both figure the older somebody is, the more things they know. If an old per–son asks you to do something, it's just supposed to be done, no questions asked.

“Are you sure you can remember everything I want?”

Naani asked.

“I'm sure, but if you want, I'll write it down.”

“Pssshhhh,” she said as she puffed air out of her cheeks. “If you have to write it down, it can't be too important, can it? I've gone my whole life without writ–ing anything down. Can you remember?” she added, turning to Tadashi.

“Yes, ma'am,” Tadashi replied seriously.

“And you boys be careful.”

“We're just going to Rupert, we're not going off to fight the Germans,” I chided her.

Tadashi poked me in the ribs. “Yes, ma'am.”

“You learn from your friend there. ‘Sides, if you get into trouble, you'll wish it was only the Germans who was mad at you,” she scolded. “Here, take this bag. I packed a snack and a canteen,” she added as she handed me the knapsack.

“Thanks. We better get going.”

“First things first. Come, give the old woman a hug.

You too, Tadashi.”

We both dutifully obeyed. She reached up to put an arm around my shoulder. I remember not so long ago when I was the one who had to reach up when we hugged.

We started down the trail to the woods. It was faster than following the shoreline into town. Just before we disappeared into the forest I heard my Naani yell, “Be good!” I turned and waved goodbye.

For the past three weeks, ever since school began, we traveled along this trail. Tadashi, along with his sisters Midori and Yuri, and all the other kids from his village would pass by our village and would be joined by all of us who were going to school. It was a two-mile walk for them to get as far as us and then almost three more miles to the school on the outskirts of Prince Rupert. Walking along we'd always break into little groups moving through the forest. Tadashi and I always walked together. Usually we had lots to say to each other, but some mornings we just traveled in silence. We were good enough friends that we didn't need to talk. This afternoon, except for a few words, we moved without talking.

Coming around the bend we crossed behind our school. It wasn't much. Certainly not much compared to the schools down south. It was flat, wooden, painted red, one story high, with a tar-covered roof. They had just re-tarred it during the summer. I'd watched them doing it, and stood there taking deep breaths. I love the smell of tar. In Rupert things don't have to be built for warmth but they have to be watertight. I can hardly remember a day here when it didn't at least try to rain or snow.

The curtains on the windows were all closed and it looked lonely and deserted. A rusting set of swings was off to the side. In the back was the sorriest excuse for a baseball field I ever saw. The backstop and the infield weren't bad, but the outfield was pathetic. Bad enough that it was littered with rocks, but it was so tiny. Even a puny eight-year-old could be a hero and belt a homer out into the forest. Games were always being called off because we ran out of balls that had been hit into the for–est and disappeared into the ferns and undergrowth.

Rupert was a real baseball town. The kids loved play–ing ball. Even the Japanese kids, who seemed to have this strange idea that school was only about learning, played ball. Good ball. Tadashi had a “live” arm and usu–ally pitched. He played fair but he didn't mind whistling one up right under your nose if you were crowding the plate. Hard but fair.

The school was on a rise on the edge of the town.

“Quite a sight,” Tadashi said, spreading his arms out.

“Rupert?”

“Of course, Rupert. It's exciting. Look at all the houses, the stores, ships out in the harbor, cars, streets … people.”

“This place?” I laughed. “Compared to Vancouver or Victoria, this is just a little pimple.”

“Don't rub it in,” he said, his eyes scanning the hori–zon. “This is the biggest pimple I've ever seen. Someday I'll see more. More than just Victoria or even Vancouver.”

“My father says that even Vancouver isn't much compared to other places, places like London. He says Prince Rupert isn't the end of the world but you can see it from here,” I said.

My father thinks the center of the world, the center of civilization, is in Europe and the only thing we have that comes close is Victoria, because it's modeled after London. That's why we finally settled there to set up his business, because it reminded him of home. Of course, for my mother, home is Rupert. She says home is wherever you were raised. I was raised in so many places I feel comfortable in lots of them but not really home in any of them.

I once asked my father why he lived in the sticks if he thought civilization was so wonderful. He told me civilization would be just fine if it wasn't for all the damn people.

“I'm not going to spend my whole life on the edge of the world,” Tadashi said. “I want to see more, do more than my father. I don't want to be just a fisherman.”

“Nothing wrong with being a fisherman.”

“Come on, Jed, I didn't say there was. I just want more.”

“Plenty of call for doctors everywhere.” Tadashi wanted to go into medicine.

“You're right,” he nodded. “A doctor is a good thing to be. Lots of money. Lots of opportunity. Lots of re–spect. It's what my father wants for me.”

“You'll be a good doctor. Not that I'd trust you to fix anything of mine,” I joked.

“Very reassuring. I just hope my Japanese is good enough to get me through school.”

“Your Japanese?”

“Yeah. I'll have to go to Japan to study.”

“Why Japan? We got schools here for that sort of thing.”

Tadashi shrugged. “Not schools for me. They don't let Japanese into them.”

“What do you mean, Japanese? You were born here.

Your father is a naturalized Canadian. You're Canadian.”

“Yellow skin, slanty dark eyes, dark hair. To some people I can't ever be a Canadian.” His voice had gotten quiet and he walked in front of me so our eyes wouldn't meet.

“Tadpole,” I called, using the nickname only his sis–ters and I called him. He turned around. “All that means is that some people are stupid. You just wait. Someday you'll be Dr. Tadpole, living in a big city, proud father of five children, owner of a large house and fancy car, and, best of all … married to the lovely Kiyoka.

A smile came to his face and he slowly nodded his head but didn't say a word.

“Come on, enough daydreaming,” I teased. “Let's go and see the excitement of Prince Rupert.” I started to walk again. I had to admit, at least to myself, that Rupert had certainly become a lot more exciting in the last few years since the war had started.

Prince Rupert sits on the north part of Kaien Island.

The island is so close to the mainland that a bridge was built to connect the two. It probably has the best harbor in the world, deep and wide and protected from the winds and currents. A ship in the harbor is as safe as a toy floating in a bathtub. I looked down at the ships at anchor in the harbor and counted over two dozen boats serenely bobbing up and down. I heard you could put more than a hundred boats out there.

The harbor curved out of view further inland. I covered my eyes with my hand and I was able to shield enough glare to make out the faint line, in the distance, where the submarine net crossed the entire harbor, separating it from the open ocean.