IN THE WOODS OF MEMORY
Shun Medoruma
TRANSLATED FROM THE JAPANESE AND WITH A PREFACE BY TAKUMA SMINKEY
AFTERWORD BY KYLE IKEDA
Stone Bridge Press Berkeley, California
Published by
Stone Bridge Press
P.O. Box 8208, Berkeley, CA 94707
sbp@stonebridige.com www.stonebridge.com
English translation ©2017 Takuma Sminkey.
Japanese text ©2009 Kage Shobo Publishing Co.
This work is a translation of 眼の奥の森 [Me no oku no mori] by Shun Medoruma, published in Japanese in 2009 by Kage Shobo Publishing Co., Tokyo, Japan.
Front cover background photograph “Wild Iriomote,” © Sam Spicer. Villagers photograph by Reinhart T. Kowallis, used by permission. Photograph of American GIs on Iejima is believed to be in public domain.
Chart on pp. 16–17 based on an original concept by Sayuri Shimanaka.
Book design and layout by Linda Ronan.
First edition 2017.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.
p-ISBN: 978-1-61172-037-2
e-ISBN: 978-1-61172-924-5
CONTENTS
Translator’s Preface
IN THE WOODS OF MEMORY
Fumi (1945)
Seiji (1945)
Kayō (2005)
Hisako (2005)
Hisako and Fumi (2005)
Seiji (2005)
Okinawan Writer (2005)
Jay’s Grandfather (1945)
Bullied Girl (2005)
Tamiko (2005)
Robert Higa (2005)
Afterword by Kyle Ikeda
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE
I knew little about Okinawa when I was hired by Okinawa International University in April 2004. Like others living in Japan, I knew there were many US military bases here but viewed Okinawa as being something of an idyllic paradise, akin to Hawaii. That all changed on August 13, 2004, shortly after the end of the first semester. Early in the afternoon, I was entering my office when I saw a US helicopter moving across the window. Obviously in distress, the helicopter was spitting smoke and twisting out of control. I ran to the window and saw it disappear behind some trees. From the angle, I assumed that it had crashed into the street. Without thinking, I dashed down the steps and ran toward the huge clouds of smoke. I was there in a minute, before hardly anyone else. The first thing I noticed was that the helicopter had actually crashed into our main administration building! I saw one of the pilots being helped to his feet. Within minutes, a group of Marines from Marine Corps Air Station Futenma, which is located directly next to my university, came running up, and I was asked to move back.
Later, I chatted with one of the Marines stationed at the perimeter. “Yeah, these people always want to see what’s going on,” he said. I nodded noncommittally, but he seemed to see me as being on his side. Then I noticed that smoke was pouring over a group of students gathered in front of a nearby building. So I said, “This smoke could be dangerous to breathe, don’t you think? Maybe you should do something.” The second I said that, his attitude toward me abruptly changed, and he officiously stated, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not supposed to be talking to you.” It became clear that his job was to secure the perimeter, not to protect the local people.
In the weeks that followed, my quiet university became the site of daily protests, investigations, and intense media attention. On September 12, in the largest protest in nearly a decade, approximately 30,000 people gathered on campus to protest the presence of M.C.A.S. Futenma. Not surprisingly, the crash intensified the pressure on closing this dangerous base, which is situated in the densely populated city of Ginowan. Actually, the Japanese and US governments agreed to close the base back in 1996, but the plan has never been implemented due to the inability of the two governments to find a replacement facility. In 2017, the problem remains unresolved, and local protests have only intensified, as the Japanese government has become determined to proceed with construction of a new base in the seaside village of Henoko in northern Okinawa—in complete disregard of Okinawa’s reasonable request to have the base relocated outside the prefecture.
The helicopter-crash incident completely changed my view of Okinawa. As an American living in a place that my country had invaded and occupied, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward and self-conscious. Not only did I become keenly aware of how the legacy of the Battle of Okinawa impacts the daily lives of people living here, I also became more motivated to educate myself about the prefecture’s history and culture. Of course, reading as much Okinawan literature as possible has been an important part of that education, as I’ve always believed that literature is the best way to understand the heart and soul of a people. After reading works by Tatsuhiro Ōshiro, Mineo Higashi, Eiki Matayoshi, Tami Sakiyama, Shun Medoruma, and others, I’ve gained a deep understanding of Okinawan people and their painful history. Unfortunately, much of this literature still hasn’t been translated into English.
About Medoruma and his work
Shun Medoruma won the coveted Akutagawa Prize in 1997 for “Suiteki” [Droplets], a short story praised for its use of magic realism and literary sophistication. Since then, he has won many other literary prizes, and his works have been the focus of books of literary criticism and analysis, both in Japanese and in English. Medoruma has also been in the news for his political activism, especially his participation in the protests against construction of the new US military base in Henoko. He was arrested on April 1, 2016, when he paddled his canoe into a restricted area off the coast of Camp Schwab as part of the protest.
Me no oku no mori [In the Woods of Memory] was first published in twelve installments in the quarterly Zenya from Fall 2004 through Summer 2007. After being revised and reorganized into ten chapters, it was published in book form by Kage Shobo in 2009. The novel has received high
