By Bill Watanabe
The story goes, a long time ago, a lone Japanese soldier was hiding in the Philippine jungles, not knowing that WWII had ended some years earlier. His secret lair was a cave covered by brush and trees where no one ever walked. This soldier made a vow to his military superiors never to surrender and he stubbornly kept that promise even though he had faced no hostilities for a long time.
On one of his foraging trips searching for food, he spied a farmhouse near the edge of the jungle. He decided to return after dark and discovered a barn with trash cans. There he found edible food, which he scooped up and took back to his lair in the cave.
A few days later, hungry once again, he returned at night to the barn, and as he was searching for leftover scraps, he noticed a pleasant smell wafting through the air from the farmhouse. His brain was telling him this was a familiar odor – something he remembered from a long time ago.
Finally he remembered the smell – it was empanadas from his childhood days growing up in Little Tokyo in Southern California.
The memory of empanadas and Little Tokyo brought tears to his eyes as he sat down and leaned against the wall of the barn. He began to remember his youth growing up in Little Tokyo and walking up Weller Street towards the boarding houses where many Filipino farm workers stayed – the Filipinos called the area “Manilatown.”
A memory that had been forgotten over the years now returned to him – a farmworker sitting on the front porch of a boarding house, eating empanadas and writing in a notebook. The man offered an empanada to the boy and he shyly took it and ate the delicious snack – he remembered the smell and how tasty it was, and the warm smile of the migrant farm worker who had shared it with him.
The Filipino farm worker told the young Japanese American boy he wanted to become a writer – and hoped someday people would read his books.
The soldier wondered what ever happened to the man who wanted to become a writer when suddenly he found himself surrounded by the Filipino family who lived in the farm house – several adults and some children. The soldier decided not to resist – and the family showed kindness to him, and even offered some newly baked empanadas to eat! He enjoyed every bite – and smiled with gratitude.
The former Japanese soldier returned to Japan, and years later he journeyed to Los Angeles, and finally he returned to Little Tokyo. He discovered many changes had taken place; he walked to Weller Street, where the Filipino boarding houses once stood but now were replaced by stores and office buildings.
He wandered into a bookstore nearby and asked if there were any books by Filipino authors. The clerk showed him a book called “America is in the Heart.” There, on the cover, was a picture of the man who had shared an empanada with him many years before – an accomplished writer named Carlos Bulosan.
Bill Watanabe writes from Silverlake near Downtown Los Angeles and can be contacted at ybwatanabe@gmail.com. Opinions expressed are not necessarily those of The Rafu Shimpo.
Wonderful.