Mokichi and Kichijirō pulling my hands. Into the fields we went, trying to keep ourselves hidden as we made our way through the wheat to the place where our little hut was.
Drizzle was falling gently, Japan’s rainy season had begun.
Chapter 4
(A Letter of Sebastian Rodrigues)
S O once again I can send you a letter. I have already told you about my return from Goto and how the government officials were ransacking the village. I cannot but be grateful to God for the safety of Garrpe and myself.
Fortunately, before the officials reached the place, the Tossama got everyone to hide away with all speed their holy pictures, crucifixes and any object that might arouse suspicion. In these circumstances the ‘cordia’ organization was splendid. When the officials arrived, all kept working in the fields with innocent faces, and the jiisama answered the questions simply and nonchalantly. The wisdom of peasants shows itself in their ability to pretend that they are fools. After a long period of interrogation the exhausted officials were satisfied and went away.
Ichizo and Omatsu told us this story with evident pride, and as they described the details they pushed out their teeth and laughed with glee. What cunning showed itself in their features!
Yet one puzzling problem remains: did someone betray us? Surely it could not be one of the villagers; and yet little by little they themselves have become suspicious of one another. I begin to get anxious lest there be a split among them.
Apart from this, however, now that I am back again in the village I am completely at peace. Our hut is full of light; I can hear the cock crow from the foot of the hill; the red flowers are in bloom, spread over the earth like a beautiful carpet.
Since coming back to Tomogi, Kichijirō is very popular here too. He swaggers around visiting the houses and talking big about conditions in Goto. He tells them what a welcome I got there and how he himself was much appreciated because he brought me there—and when he goes on with this talk, the people of the village give him food and even sometimes offer him sake.
One time he arrived at our hut completely drunk with two or three of his young comrades. His face was flushed as he shouted: ‘I am with you …If I am with you, you have nothing to fear.’ His companions looked at him with respect, and he began to sing with even more enthusiasm. ‘I am with you. If I am with you, you have nothing to fear,’ he shouted when he had finished singing. And then stretching out his legs he fell fast asleep. Is it that he is a good fellow at heart? or is that he is agreeable? Anyhow, I just can’t hate him.
Now let me tell you some more about the life of the Japanese. Needless to say, I am telling you about the peasants of Tomogi whom I have seen. I’m just passing on to you what they said. Don’t conclude that the whole of Japan is just like this.
The first thing you must realize is that the poverty and squalor in which these peasants live is beyond anything you have ever seen in Portugal. Even the more wealthy among then, the upper class, only get the taste of rice about twice a year. Their usual fare is potatoes and radishes and such-like vegetables, while their only drink is warm water. Sometimes they dig up roots and eat them. They have a queer way of sitting—completely different from ours. Their knees are on the ground or the floor, and then they sit back on their heels. For them this posture is restful; but until we got used to it, it was terribly painful. The roofs of the houses are made of thatch. The houses are filthy, and their stench is unbearable. In Tomogi there are only two households that have a cow or horse.
The feudal lord has unlimited power over his people, much more than any king in a Christian country. The yearly tax is bitterly high, and those who fail to pay it are punished mercilessly. Indeed, the Shimabara rebellion was a terrible reaction against the unbearable sufferings
Drizzle was falling gently, Japan’s rainy season had begun.
Chapter 4
(A Letter of Sebastian Rodrigues)
S O once again I can send you a letter. I have already told you about my return from Goto and how the government officials were ransacking the village. I cannot but be grateful to God for the safety of Garrpe and myself.
Fortunately, before the officials reached the place, the Tossama got everyone to hide away with all speed their holy pictures, crucifixes and any object that might arouse suspicion. In these circumstances the ‘cordia’ organization was splendid. When the officials arrived, all kept working in the fields with innocent faces, and the jiisama answered the questions simply and nonchalantly. The wisdom of peasants shows itself in their ability to pretend that they are fools. After a long period of interrogation the exhausted officials were satisfied and went away.
Ichizo and Omatsu told us this story with evident pride, and as they described the details they pushed out their teeth and laughed with glee. What cunning showed itself in their features!
Yet one puzzling problem remains: did someone betray us? Surely it could not be one of the villagers; and yet little by little they themselves have become suspicious of one another. I begin to get anxious lest there be a split among them.
Apart from this, however, now that I am back again in the village I am completely at peace. Our hut is full of light; I can hear the cock crow from the foot of the hill; the red flowers are in bloom, spread over the earth like a beautiful carpet.
Since coming back to Tomogi, Kichijirō is very popular here too. He swaggers around visiting the houses and talking big about conditions in Goto. He tells them what a welcome I got there and how he himself was much appreciated because he brought me there—and when he goes on with this talk, the people of the village give him food and even sometimes offer him sake.
One time he arrived at our hut completely drunk with two or three of his young comrades. His face was flushed as he shouted: ‘I am with you …If I am with you, you have nothing to fear.’ His companions looked at him with respect, and he began to sing with even more enthusiasm. ‘I am with you. If I am with you, you have nothing to fear,’ he shouted when he had finished singing. And then stretching out his legs he fell fast asleep. Is it that he is a good fellow at heart? or is that he is agreeable? Anyhow, I just can’t hate him.
Now let me tell you some more about the life of the Japanese. Needless to say, I am telling you about the peasants of Tomogi whom I have seen. I’m just passing on to you what they said. Don’t conclude that the whole of Japan is just like this.
The first thing you must realize is that the poverty and squalor in which these peasants live is beyond anything you have ever seen in Portugal. Even the more wealthy among then, the upper class, only get the taste of rice about twice a year. Their usual fare is potatoes and radishes and such-like vegetables, while their only drink is warm water. Sometimes they dig up roots and eat them. They have a queer way of sitting—completely different from ours. Their knees are on the ground or the floor, and then they sit back on their heels. For them this posture is restful; but until we got used to it, it was terribly painful. The roofs of the houses are made of thatch. The houses are filthy, and their stench is unbearable. In Tomogi there are only two households that have a cow or horse.
The feudal lord has unlimited power over his people, much more than any king in a Christian country. The yearly tax is bitterly high, and those who fail to pay it are punished mercilessly. Indeed, the Shimabara rebellion was a terrible reaction against the unbearable sufferings
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