Tsuru Yamauchi
published Oct 13, 2018

An Oral History

TSURU YAMAUCHI - Leaving Okinawa and Settling in Hawaii, 1910:
"Is Hawaii a place like this?"
Based on interviews by Michiko Kodama , ESOHP Researcher/ Interviewer.
Translated by Sandra Jha and Robin Fujikawa . Edited by Marie Hara .

This was the time of the depression and the kind of life our family had was difficult. Nowadays in the morning children eat anything they like, milk or whatever. At that time, it wasn't so. If we could have milk to give, we would. We made chocolate milk for the children as a treat.

The family members were all growing, and we had many children, you know. The son who owns a jewelry shop now learned from a watchmaker after graduating from McKinley High School. We had no more money so he couldn't go to college or to a different school. Going up as far as high school at that time was considered very good. People nowadays have only two children, but we had many, many children.

My husband had been working for the Ewa landing pier after he left the Honolulu Military Academy work. He did not go into his own business, because he would not have been able to do it alone. When we first came out to the city, good jobs weren't available in the way we were expecting. So he had to take anything. He tried sugar loading at the Ewa pier, but it was heavy work which tired him, so he wasn't there for long. Yard work seemed to be better. So he stayed with it for 15 years. We could not have managed without both his wages and mine for a sufficient livelihood. Our small income provided the children's Japanese school tuition and this and that. Even if we didn't spend too much on food, there were times when we had to spend extra money. We could not expect the children to stay healthy on noodles alone.

July 15, 1940: Aala Tofu Opens: "It takes determination."

Thanks to our friends who cared about us, we were fortunate enough to try the tofu business. My friends said it was better to open up our own shop than to change our jobs from one to another. But even if we wanted to run a shop, we didn't have the money. So I told them, and they said, "Don't worry about money. Just buy it." You see, they had their own businesses running restaurants in Japan before. They said they had the money, and if we wanted to do it, we should go ahead. In that way, my friends advised me and took care of me .

It was called Aala Tofu, because it was in Aala where the Nippon Theater used to be. It was a little beside the theater. We were told by our friends that someone who was doing that, a Japanese person, would quit. They said, "The tofu shop is for sale. You can do it. Go ahead ." That's why I did it.

But at the beginning I did not know about the business. Even if one had run a tofu business in Okinawa, it was quite different here. In Okinawa the beans were ground in mortar, squeezed uncooked, and all the okara had to be carefully taken out before the beans were boiled. It was not the case here. First we boiled them and then we would take the okara out. We put a cloth on a barrel, and we do things properly. The people who formerly owned the store promised us they would teach us until we could do it. After all, I never did business before.

My boy came back from Okinawa in 1938. He said that he could help in the tofu shop while going to school. My husband had a job gardening. So my son and I worked together. Later this boy went to the States and is now involved in the tofu business in a big way. He had gone to America for a vacation, intending to play, but he got started making tofu there and lives in Los Angeles.

At the beginning, when we started, our customers were the previous owner's clients. Places like Fukujutei took tofu from us. Okinawan immigrant businesses were gradually increasing then, mostly markets and restaurants. On a weekly schedule, our boy carried and hauled things, since there were no trucks or cars. I, myself, when the tofu was done, would carry and deliver, too . But in the beginning there wasn't much business. At that time, Aala Market and individual Japanese shops were there. So, to deliver, there would be perhaps 10 places; later it increased to 15.

Our friends' friends also came to buy. Even now they say my tofu is very delicious. At first, it cost five cents one. Seems foolish! I think nowadays it costs about one dollar, although it depends on the sellers. In the shop we would sell age (fried bean curd), konnyaku (jelly-like loaf made from plant starch), and okara.

As for the okara, pig keepers would come to buy it very cheaply per barrel for feed.

We would get up, at the latest, at 2 o'clock in the morning. When we had much to do, we got up at 1 o'clock. Now, we can make tofu quickly by machine, as many tofu as possible. But in those days, everything was slow. We didn't have any machinery. It was really hard to do. It was tough, because it took so long. We had a mortar to grind beans in when they dropped to the bottom, we took them out and boiled them. After boiling them, we scooped them up. Then we put brine over them and boiled them again. Things like age were made by hand . Today that's out of the question. When we heated a pot, we had to cool the oil again. We put new water in a tub and put the age pot there until it cooled down, changing the water many times, so it took a long time .

As for konnyaku, early in the morning we mixed the powder with water; a certain amount of water per half-pound of powder. It was all by hand. We let it sit for a while. Then we got it ready for cooking, mixing it well. Then the zshibai (lime) was stirred in. Next came the trays. We set them all up neatly, poured the mix in, cut the konnyaku to size and cooked the pieces in hot water just as they were cut. That's all. Oh, but nowadays everything can be done by machine, so there is no problem.

Konnyaku is very difficult to make. Even now other people's tastes tough, something like rubber, because it wasn't made correctly. It's not good for me to say, but ours isn't like that, the kind our boy makes. In the past there were good and bad times for the business. Tofu went well when there was no fish or during continuous rain when vegetables were scarce.

The so-called bad times were when fish was easily caught. Tofu would be somewhat slow then. Now, delicatessens and restaurants are plentiful; tofu is not bad today.

Mr. Kanai was the oldest tofu maker, Kanai Tofu. We've been doing it for 40 years, and he was before us. There was one more on River Street. Green Mill, which used to be on Maui, came afterwards. After the war others also came up-Aloha Tofu and other smaller ones that do the work themselves. Many are Okinawans.

Okinawans got into the tofu business, because, after all, although tofu work is a simple thing, it takes determination. Only those who stick with it can do it. Mornings are early, and it's water work. Business is done from day to day, and each day's work must get finished.

We stayed in business a long time, because raw materials were cheap. Labor was cheap. We thought that it was right that we be diligent. Bit by bit as we got accustomed to the work, more experience came to us. Until we got used to it, we often wondered whether we could continue. But, looking back at the business, it seemed much better than being used by others.

The War: "We cannot relax ... "

For us tofu began with the year 1940, about the middle. Then, just the next year, it was war, in December. It was Sunday when it came . We were making tofu, and I was frying age. Boy was working also.

The Aala Taxi man said, ''Hey, don't you folks know? War came! ''

We thought that he was only trying to scare us.

I said, "Huh?" and continued frying age.

''That's right!'' he kept saying.

From Beretania and King Streets, from both sides, cars kept passing by hurriedly.

"That's strange. Today something happened ," I was thinking .

Then from Punchbowl, bombs were falling . "We have to go home quickly!''

That day, our jeweler son was at home. Father was still working. He kept working on Sundays for half a day. Our son, who had the car, went to pick him up, then he came for us. We had to leave in a hurry. We left everything scattered; we were so scared.

When we got home, which was a rented two-story house, we found that we couldn't get out from upstairs. We could see smoke going up wildly from Pearl Harbor. "What shall we do?" I thought. We were all afraid.

We Stayed in one place until night without moving anywhere . We covered ourselves - our heads, too - with our blankets. We told the children, ''Don't move. Stay where you are.''

Our tofu shop was left abandoned without management. At that time we were unprepared and without foodstuffs. We had lots of rice ordered, but we had not prepared our storage space at that time. We had said, ''Bring our rice order on Monday.''

So here on Sunday, there was war. "Oh, oh," I thought. Our order of rice from Shimaya had to be held back. After all, all rice became rationed by five and ten pounds. We were faced with hardships.

However, it was fortunate that the Japanese people in Hawaii, even if they were being called "Japs,'' had not done wrong. So things were relatively easy with us. We were not gathered together somewhere.

As for the business, however, we stopped for what seemed a long while. We had some supplies stocked, like brine from Japan, so we were trying to plan what to do with it. We rested from work, but we realized that we had to think about food for the family. We had nothing.

We resumed work after three weeks. Business was good. Tofu sold well because of food shortages, but we didn't make much tofu.

Food was not plentiful. We considered that because we had children to raise, we had to do something. So we began the saimin-ya (noodle shop) in 1942 . We made space in the afternoon after we cleaned up the tofu things and moved them. We would open the door and manage.

"We cannot relax," we told our children . "We might not have this kind of chance again. For now, even if others may relax, we have to be diligent."

After all, that was greed. We thought we should do more. So we worked, even on Sundays. We closed around 6 o'clock and went home in the evening so that we could begin tofu early the next morning. Saimin-ya work was easy. First we made age for cone sushi. Then we made barbecue meat. It was a small business, not like a big restaurant. It came at a time when there was nothing. So when it was dinner time, people came. All we had was saimin, barbecue meat and cone sushi to serve, but many people came. On Saturdays and Sundays, Filipino women with their children used to come in from the country to eat saimin. The Aala district had other eating places, but the big ones closed often during the war. Perhaps they thought it was foolish to remain open. When war began, roadside stands were not allowed so there weren't many saimin businesses.

We Japanese taught children not to rest but to work hard. After school the children hurried with their work and helped out.

Yet even if we ourselves were willing to work hard, the children wanted to do other things such as going to school or learning sewing. Then our son, the one doing tofu, went into the army. We agreed that when his number came up, he would be allowed to go. Four hundred men went in at the same time.

Then father had to help me in the tofu making, because I couldn't do the work alone. He did not really love his work, so we quit the saimin-ya and decided to keep only the tofu business going.

Later our boy came home from the service, he immediately took over the saimin end. He continued the saimin business until 1950. Our attitude toward saimin was that we worked hard, but it was profitable.

During the war it was the same for Naichi Japanese and Okinawans - no distinction made between them. Non-English speaking people continued to talk in Japanese, and there was no house-to-house investigation, so it was okay. It wasn't like what we had worried about. People here weren't gathered together somewhere, taken away from home. It wasn't like that. After the war, no one could tell what was going to take place. But conditions became normal. How thankful!

A Return to Okinawa: "It wasn't as I had expected."

My daughter who was born in Okinawa went to Nanyo (Micronesia) when she was married. The area had been in the war. All the time we had been making tofu, I kept worrying about her. We had left her there alone. All our other children were here. ''What had happened to her?'' When our friends left for Okinawa, I went too. I couldn't have gone alone, so it was just the right timing. Right after making tofu one day, we got on the small plane. It took 18 hours, but I went with my daughter in my mind. After 30 years, I was back in Okinawa.

When I got there, it wasn't as I had expected. Food was scarce . It was September, 1952, and I stayed for two weeks and came home. Those there had gotten accustomed to it.

Everything appeared dirty and broken down. Our house was so small. Even cleaned up, it was like a chicken coop.

Then there was the water. I was told not to drink fresh water, so I drank only tea from my thermos. People said they prepared clean food for me, but I had no appetite.

At that time in Hawaii the Okinawans had formed the Okinawan Prefecture Club to send aid to Okinawa. I helped by collecting things to send to the remaining family members. Even though our own brothers and sisters had been killed in the war, we sent food, old clothing, anything from Hawaii. Everything was scarce up there. We couldn't give much, but we made donations to both ltoman and my place, Kanegusuku. Yet it was like a losing game. We knew the goods might not get to the exact people, but we said it was all right as long as someone in Okinawa received them. That's how we helped Okinawa.

It was my last trip to Okinawa. Relatives keep telling us, "Come, come." But we don't have much purpose for going. We couldn't feel at ease. They had nothing in Okinawa.

My husband retired in 1952, but we still had the tofu business. After the trip I continued working at tofu until 1958 or 1959, because our boy was doing the business.

Compared to people long ago, we are very thankful that our children are all doing fine. One of the boys is in jewelry. Three are in tofu. My daughters work for the public in the government. My girl who was born in Okinawa now lives in California with her family. Our eldest girl finished the eighth grade in Okinawa and then here also. She had wanted to go on to high school, but we were so poor. She said she would work herself through school, so she did get some education. The others finished high school. Two went to college half-way on their own but didn't graduate.

I would like to see our grandchildren succeed and advance in their studies. That's what I think about.

Reunion: "My Dream Finally Realized."

After my trip to Okinawa one of my dreams was realized. I was determined more than ever to bring over my daughter and her family to Hawaii. A parent who was naturalized could do this easier. But then, since I was illiterate, citizenship seemed impossible. There was a YWCA place on Hotel Street that had citizenship classes. The teacher helped me a lot. My grandchildren, too. They helped me memorize the answers. Finally, on Sept. 17, 1959, I got my naturalization papers. I was really proud - my children and grandchildren, too . My daughter and family came to Hawaii in 1962 - my dream finally realized .

Reflections: "Life is good here."

I am 91 years old. My own life! When I think about it, I can 't believe that I'm all that age. While I can still understand things with my brain, and my body is still able to do things for myself, I can still remain active. Old-time people were really admirable beyond words. They did that much! Some Okinawans from the country really suffered. They had to take their young children out to the fields in the dirt and lay them down on the blankets while they continued to work, ho hana and all.

We were working in the cane fields, cutting cane, being afraid, not knowing the language. We didn't know how to use the tools or what their names were. When any haole or Portuguese came, we got frightened and thought we had to work harder or get fired. I guess that kind of thinking was all unnecessary.

We never did think that women who came to Hawaii had to work that hard. Long ago, before going off to work, they wore skirts, long-sleeved kasuri (splash-patterned cloth) shirts, hats, handkerchiefs tied on, kyahan (leggings) and tabis (Japanese cloth shoes). Even getting dressed properly for work was a big job. To go to work, it had to be work clothes, distinctly work clothes.

I have heard about people in the real country - in the cane fields - who resisted and became angry. I did not go through such experiences, but I have heard that happened. But that is all old times. That's all we know. My old stories aren't worth much, all old times.

Now there can be no greater happiness. Even while we're staying at home, we don't get wet, we have enough food, we see what we want to see, and we have many clothes to wear.

I don't know much, but just looking back on my old days makes me remember how hard we worked.

After 70 years I feel there's no better place than Hawaii. When we first came, we didn't think we could stay very long. But after all, the place one stays is the best. Everyone who comes back from Okinawa finds it is still depressed compared to Hawaii.

Life is good here.

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