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Friday, March 05, 2004
So: A girl in a time of war
By Jocy L. So
Unraveling
At the end of her tale, Josefina concluded that "one war is enough for a lifetime." The tragedy of war is not only that it takes away lives or destroys properties. The tragedy of war is also that it takes away normalcy, forcing us to be fully aware of the uncertainties, to be on the edge, to fight to remain alive, sane, and normal every day.
WHEN Nicole Kidman won the Oscar Best Actress trophy last year she urged the Hollywood community to write, produce, and make more movies about women.
"We are interesting," she said. How true and how sad that women in movies are often relegated to supporting roles as the girl friend, the wife, or an appendage to the leading man.
It is not only in film that there is a lack of women's stories and voices, even history usually fails to tell us important events from the point of view of women. For the past few weeks, my students and I have been discussing World War II. Often we dwelled on all the fighting and bloodshed participated and perpetuated primarily by men. It was harder to discuss the effects of war on civilians who were mostly women, children, and the elderly because there is little literature regarding that, and most of the precious little literature available is not considered exciting or important enough.
Due to the dearth of materials, I told my students to interview those who have gone through World War II in order to get the stories of ordinary people, of ordinary women. The result was tremendous.
Here is the story of a war survivor named Josefina Yu, as told by her grandson Christopher Uy:
My name is Josefina and I was 11 years old that fateful day, December 8, 1941, when Japanese airplanes bombed Davao City. The blasts were very loud and I was scared. My father rushed home and told us to pack our bags because we were going to evacuate to Samal and avoid the Japanese invaders. He told us we were staying there for only a few days, just to wait until the Americans defeated the Japanese. He went back to Davao City to close up our house, but he never came back. Four years passed before we saw him again. We had all thought he was dead.
My three sisters, my mother who was two months pregnant and I lived in my grandfather's house in Samal. It was quite an adventure for a child. We did not really see the ugly face of war. The Japanese soldiers were very polite and kind. One time, my foot was wounded and infected, so I could not walk. A Japanese colonel gave me an ointment that healed my foot. Since the Japanese controlled the area, we had to study Japanese, bow to the soldiers, and give them all the food they wanted, but we did not see them kill anyone.
Since my grandfather had a farm, we did not go hungry. But, we had to produce everything. We made coconut oil for frying and to light our lamps. We made sugar from sugarcane juice and bartered it for fish. We also had pigs that we slaughtered and salted in big clay jars because there was no refrigeration. We planted vegetables and bananas, and raised chickens that we shooed away every time Japanese soldiers passed by because they always took chickens without permission. We also ate locusts when they were plentiful. They tasted good roasted over fire, but we always had to sneakily eat them because my grandfather forbade us from consuming insects.
My mother gave birth to my only brother in 1942. No diapers were available so she cut my father's pants and used the pant legs as diapers. I hated having to wash those diapers in the spring. I was not used to a simple life. We had been a middle class family with maids before the war.
Japanese soldiers were always looking for beautiful young ladies whom they would make into comfort women. Whenever they came to the house, all my teenaged cousins would go hide in the space between the roof and the ceiling. I was young so I never hid, but instead remained outside to play with the other children. At twelve I was the tallest amongst my playmates and one day a Japanese soldier approached my mother and said he wanted me to be his wife. I cried so hard that he took pity and said, "Well, let her grow up a little." I always hid in the ceiling after that.
After four years, my father returned. Soon after the Americans started bombing to reclaim the Philippines. My father dug air raids all over the place where we lived. I hated having to douse with water whatever I was cooking so the planes would not see the smoke, and dive into the shelters. When it rained, it was muddy and it took my father's stern discipline to get us to hide at the slightest sound of planes. When the Americans landed in amphibians on the beach, we went to welcome them. We brought fruits to exchange them for sardines and corned beef.
Later, I learned that my cousin's entire family in Pangi was murdered by the Japanese. Babies were bayoneted and older people shot. The only survivor was a young lady who played dead. She later crawled all the way to the center of Matina where the Americans found her.
***
At the end of her tale, Josefina concluded that "one war is enough for a lifetime."
The tragedy of war is not only that it takes away lives or destroys properties. The tragedy of war is also that it takes away normalcy, forcing us to be fully aware of the uncertainties, to be on the edge, to fight to remain alive, sane, and normal every day.
The greater tragedy is that often, even after the actual fighting is over, the war to regain normal life continues. We need stories like Josefina's to remind us of that. We need her to remind us that war is not just about heroic men in uniform saving the world, it is also about brave women in ordinary clothing fighting to save their children, siblings, parents, and themselves from hunger, disease, and brutality. As we celebrate International Day for Women, let us listen to heed Nicole Kidman's plea and find women whose stories we can talk about, write about, and learn from.
(March 5, 2004 issue)
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