Min Lee - Pachinko

It is imagined as sovereign because the concept was born in an age in which Enlightenment and Revolution were destroying the legitimacy of the divinely-ordained, hierarchical dynastic realm…

Finally, it is imagined as a community , because, regardless of the actual inequality and exploitation that may prevail in each, the nation is always conceived as a deep, horizontal comradeship. Ultimately it is this fraternity that makes it possible, over the past two centuries, for so many millions of people, not so much to kill, as willingly die for such limited imaginings.

Nagano, April 1962

Noa hadn’t meant to linger at the café by the Nagano train station, but it wasn’t as if he knew where to go exactly. He hadn’t made a plan, which was unlike him, but after he’d left Waseda, his days had made little sense to him. Reiko Tamura, a cheerful middle school teacher who had been kind to him, was from Nagano, and for some reason, he’d always considered her hometown as a place populated with gentle, benevolent Japanese. He recalled his teacher’s childhood stories of the snowstorms that were so severe that when she walked outside her little house to go to school, she could hardly see the streetlights. Osaka had snow occasionally, but nothing resembling Tamura-san’s storms. He had always wanted to visit his teacher’s hometown — in his mind, it was always blanketed with fresh snow. This morning, when the man at the ticket counter had asked him where to, he’d replied, “Nagano, please.” Finally, he was here. He felt safe. Tamura-san had also spoken of school trips to the famed Zenkoji temple, where she’d eat her modest bento outdoors with her classmates.

Seated alone at a small table not far from the counter, Noa drank his brown tea and took only a few bites of his omelet rice while considering a visit to the temple. He was raised as a Christian, but he felt respectful of Buddhists, especially those who had renounced the spoils of the world. The Lord was supposed to be everywhere, which was what Noa had learned at church, but would God keep away from temples or shrines? Did such places offend God, or did He understand those who may wish to worship something, anything? As always, Noa wished he’d had more time with Isak. The thought of him saddened Noa, and the thought of Hansu, his biological father, shamed him. Koh Hansu didn’t believe in anything but his own efforts — not God, not Jesus, not Buddha, and not the Emperor.

The heavyset waiter came by with a teapot.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?” the waiter asked him while refilling Noa’s cup. “Is the meal not to your liking? Too much scallion? I always tell the cook that he is too heavy with the—”

“The rice is very good, thank you,” Noa replied, realizing that it had been some time since he had spoken to anyone at all. The waiter had a broad smile, thin, tadpole eyes, and uneven teeth. His ears were large and his lobes thick — physical features Buddhists admired. The waiter stared at Noa, though most Japanese would have looked away out of politeness.

“Are you visiting for a while?” The waiter glanced at Noa’s suitcase, which was set by the empty chair.

“Hmm?” Noa was surprised by the waiter’s personal question.

“I apologize for being so nosy. My mother always said I would get in trouble because I am far too curious. Forgive me, sir, I am just a chatty country boy,” the waiter said, laughing. “I haven’t seen you here before. Please forgive the café for being so quiet. Normally we have many more customers. Very interesting and respectable ones. I cannot help but have questions when I meet someone new, but I know I should not ask them.”

“No, no. It’s natural to want to know things. I understand. I am here to visit, and I heard such nice things about Nagano that I thought I would like to live here.” Noa was surprised to hear himself say this. It felt easy to talk to this stranger. It had not occurred to him before to live in Nagano, but why not? Why not for a year at least? He would not return to Tokyo or Osaka — this much he had resolved.

“Move here? To live? Honto ? How wonderful. Nagano is a very special place,” the waiter said with pride. “My entire family is from here. We have always been from here. Eighteen generations, and I am the dumbest one in my family. This is my little café, which my mother bought for me to keep me out of trouble!” The waiter laughed. “Everyone calls me Bingo. It is a game from America. I have played it once.”

“Nobuo desu ,” Noa said, smiling. “Nobuo Ban desu .”

“Ban-san, Ban-san,” Bingo chirped happily. “I once loved a short girl from Tokyo named Chie Ban, but she did not love me. Of course! Lovely girls do not love me. My tall wife is not lovely, but she loves me nonetheless!” Again, he laughed. “You know, you are smart to wish to settle in Nagano. I have been to Tokyo only once, and that was enough for me. It’s dirty, expensive, and full of fast—” The waiter stopped himself. “Wait, you’re not from Tokyo, are you?”

“No. I’m from Kansai.”

“Ah, I love Kansai. I have been to Kyoto twice, and though it is too expensive for a simple man like myself, I am fond of truly delicious udon, and I believe one can eat delicious udon there for a reasonable sum. I prefer the chewy kind of udon.”

Noa smiled. It was pleasant to listen to him talk.

“So what will you do for work?” the waiter asked. “A man must have work. My mother always says this, too.” Bingo clasped his right hand over his mouth, embarrassed at being so forward, but he was unable to keep from talking so much. The stranger seemed so attractive and humble, and Bingo admired quiet people. “Did you have a job you liked in Kansai?” he asked, his sparse eyebrows raised.

Noa looked down at his barely eaten meal.

“Well, I have worked as a bookkeeper. I can also read and write in English. Perhaps a small business may need a bookkeeper. Or maybe a trading company may wish to have documents translated—”

“A young man like you could work in lots of places. Let me think.” Bingo’s round face grew serious. He tapped his small chin with his index finger. “You seem very smart.”

“I don’t know about that, but that’s kind of you to say.” Noa smiled.

“Hmm.” The waiter made a face. “Sir, I don’t know if you’re picky, but if you need work right away, the pachinko parlor hires people from out of town. Office jobs are not so common lately.”

“Pachinko?” Noa tried not to look offended. Did the waiter think he was Korean? Most Japanese never assumed he was Korean until he told them his Korean surname, Boku. His identification card from Waseda stated his tsumei name, Nobuo Bando. Noa wasn’t sure why he had dropped the “-do” from his surname when he’d introduced himself to Bingo, but now it was too late to change it back. “I don’t know much about pachinko. I have never—”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. They pay very well, I hear. Takano-san, the manager of the best parlor in Nagano, is a great gentleman. Maybe you wouldn’t work in any ordinary pachinko parlor, but Cosmos Pachinko is a grand establishment run by an old family from the area. They change their machines very often! However, they do not hire foreigners.”

“Eh?”

“They do not hire Koreans or Chinese, but that will not matter to you since you are Japanese.” Bingo nodded several times.

“ Soo desu ,” Noa agreed.

“Takano-san is always looking for office workers who are smart. He pays handsomely. But he cannot hire foreigners.” Bingo nodded again.

“Yes, yes,” Noa said sympathetically, sounding as if he understood. Long ago, he had learned how to keep nodding even when he didn’t agree, because he noticed that the motion alone kept people talking.