by Ruth Edwards
Somerville, Texas, USA
When I was 10, I arrived in Japan with my missionary parents and older brother. The sights, smells, and culture were all new and mysterious. We moved into a Japanese house at the edge of a large elementary school yard where hundreds of children played after school each day. They were tattered and poor, as most of the Japanese people were in the early 1950s, right after the war.
None of our family spoke the language yet, though I quickly learned Japanese with a fluency that can only be accomplished in early childhood. But the lack of language abilities presented some unique problems for my family. The simplest task — buying eggs, for instance — could prove to be a challenge.
Among the many who watched us foreigners with great fascination was ten-year-old Kenji. He had no fear of us; in fact, he was quite bold. He was a rascal for sure, always up to something. But Kenji proved to be very helpful to us while we were adjusting to the newness of a different culture. He would bike off and come back with eggs, onions, or whatever we were able to get across to him that we needed by drawing or motioning. He was instrumental in my learning Japanese quickly, though I later had to unlearn some things that were not ladylike.
Kenji began to pick up some English. As naughty as he was, we came to love him dearly. He quickly familiarized us with the layout of the community and taught us where to go for what we needed. But one day, Kenji stopped showing up. Eventually, we went to his home down the block and asked about him. We found out that his parents had sold him to a farmer for 10,000 yen (about $28.00 in those days). This was a great deal of money to a household with eight children, six of them younger than Kenji was. Of course, we were devastated, but through much haggling, my parents were able to pay the farmer back and take Kenji into our home. He fit in well, and we enjoyed having him as one of the family.
Before we left Japan, Kenji grew up, married, and went into business for himself. I have visited since then, and he was right there to pick me up at the airport and take me where I needed to go. Though we are an ocean apart, he’ll always be my Japanese brother!
Available in The Best of HeroicStories, Volume 1.
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This is one of the best stories that I have read in Heroic Stories.
This is indeed a “one-of-a-kind” heroic story. In this age of child kidnappings and disappearances, this is such a heart-warming story. I think Kenji, not only was rescued, but found the right family for himself in which to be raised. Poverty inclines some people to make such sad decisions about their children as though they were saleable commodities.