Barbed Wire and Cherry Blossoms by Anita Heiss Read Free Book Online Page B

says. ‘He never said a word when I found him and raced him to the shelter – I just assumed he only spoke his own lingo and when we walked down the lot, I just did this.’ Banjo puts his finger up to his lips. ‘How good is his English then?’
    â€˜I don’t know, he just said his name was Hiroshi and that he was Japanese, Yamato. It means the original people of Japan. Like us, I guess.’ Mary is surprised at how much she remembers and how interested she has become in wanting to know more. She is an intelligent and inquisitive young woman but having to leave school to work for the Smiths means there is a lot of education she’s missed out on. What she knows about the world generally is what she reads sporadically in the newspaper.
    â€˜You’re not supposed to be spending too much time there, Mary. I told you, just deliver the food, get him to drink the water, be kind, and leave.’ Joan will help Hiroshi but she doesn’t want her daughter being anything more than hospitable. There is no need for it, and nothing good that can come of it. ‘You don’t have to be friends,’ she adds sternly.
    Mary thinks her mother is overreacting, considering all she did was learn his name. She is a good girl, a good Catholic girl, she was even baptised at St Raphael’s. Mary still says her nightly prayers without any prompting from her parents. Even so, sometimes she thinks that even her very Catholic mother can have some un-Christian ways.

    Visiting Hiroshi is easier than the night before: she has a name now, she knows he speaks English. ‘Hello,’ she says as she lights the lantern.
    Hiroshi is waiting for her. The day has been long and lonely but he knew that at the end of it, she would come with food and with her caring face and kindness. And here she is.
    â€˜Konnichiwa,’ he says quietly. ‘It is hello in my language,’ he says, patting his chest. ‘Kon-eech-ee-wa.’ He sounds out the word slowly so she has a chance to hear it again.
    â€˜Kon-eech-ee-wa,’ Mary says, happy to learn a new, greeting. She smiles because she feels like she mastered it quickly. ‘I’m sorry, we do not have much to give you tonight, Hiroshi.’ She likes the sound of his name – exotic, different, close to the sound of ‘hero’. ‘Here is some damper, an apple and some water.’ She hands him the wrapped food and the jar she carried in her pocket.
    Hiroshi bows with respect. ‘Please don’t say sorry. I am sorry to be a burden, to take your family’s food. Thank you for everything, the shelter.’ He waves his hands to point out the safety of his surroundings, and although he wants to wait until she is gone to eat, he is starving and unwraps the food straight away. He sits down without looking at her. The food barely touches his tongue, is almost swallowed whole. It disappears so quickly Mary feels sorry for him, wishing she had more to give. He drinks and hands back the jar without her instructing him to do so.
    â€˜Do you like the damper?’
    â€˜This taste is new to me. It is –’ he smacks together lips that are dry from the doughy food, ‘– is it a little bit sweet?’ He isn’t sure how to describe the taste. ‘Can I ask you something?’ he says shyly.
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Where am I?’ He looks upwards.
    â€˜This is Erambie Station,’ she says. ‘Some people call it a mission, it used to be a reserve where Black people camped.’
    â€˜Erambie,’ he says.
    â€˜Some people reckon Erambie means yabbie.’
    Hiroshi frowns and repeats, ‘Yab-bee.’
    â€˜My dad says Erambie means waterhole, because we are so close to the Lachlan River.’
    â€˜Who lives here? Are they all . . .’ He pauses. ‘Are they all like you?’ He rubs the skin on his arm.
    Mary laughs. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Everyone who