Desert Exile

“Absence of victimized complaint should not be taken for compliance.”

Yamamoto wants us to know the story of Japanese-American incarceration is not a compliant one. Rather, as explained on the same page a few lines above, the Issei attitude “has deeper resonances as a way of enduring what seems unbearable with dignity, patience, and quiet strength” (xv).

“I remember the sunny yard in back with the peach and apricot and fig trees. I remember the sweetpeas that grew higher than my head, and the enormous chrysanthemums that measured seventeen inches around. There was a blackberry bush that rambled wild along the back fence, and there was rhubarb that sprang up near the fenced closure where we kept a succession of three dogs.”

In the opening paragraphs of Chapter 1, Uchida introduces us to the vibrant Uchida home on Stuart Street in Berkeley, California, as it existed before Pearl Harbor. This quote characterizes the strong sense of home and identity that becomes erased and uprooted as Desert Exile evolves. It also presents the first instance of the motif of flowers, which appears throughout the book in different varieties and symbolizing hope. 

“They came pressed and polished in their squeaky shoes, their hair slicked down with camellia oil whose sharp sweet scent I identified as the smell of Japan. They crowded around our town on most holidays, on frequent Sundays, and they often dropped in uninvited for a cup of tea.”

This quote captures the essence of the Uchida family home as a community hub. It’s Mr. Uchida’s life as a businessman; his involvement in local civic groups and the church; Mrs. Uchida’s meticulous ability to host; and the Uchidas’ sense of culture that made Japanese Americans new to America, as well as local business people and neighbors, feel welcome and respected in the Uchida home. 

“Those were the days when the cleaners still picked up and delivered clothes on wood hangers and the People’s Bread man came by in a wagon filled with buttery pastries. Buying a service or a product then meant dealing with a pleasant human being rather than dropping a coin in a slot or picking out a prepackaged item in a giant supermarket, and my mother thought of all these people as her friends.” 

Early in Chapter 2, Uchida reminisces about everyday life in Berkeley, when the family were fully-integrated community leaders. A few pages later, Uchida recounts the family’s role at the Japanese Independent Congregational Church of Oakland. This quote shows how the Uchidas, after both parents graduated from the foremost Christian university in Japan, developed a vibrant, community-oriented life in Berkeley. It’s one of the last moments in the book where Uchida does not remember calling into question exactly what her Japanese-American identity means. By the end of Chapter 2, Uchida introduces the great conflict her parents faced in coming to terms with being born and raised in Japan, then leading adult lives and raising children in the Unites States. The quote depicts a time when Uchida was not yet aware of the dualities in her identity, which becomes a central theme in Desert Exile. 

“My parents’ Japaneseness was never nationalistic in nature. They held the Imperial family in affectionate and respectful regard, as did all Japanese of their generation. But their first loyalty was always to their Christian God, not the Emperor of Japan. And their loyalty and devotion to their adopted country was vigorous and strong.”

Here, Uchida characterizes her parents’ loyalty to the United States. It’s important to note the loving attachment Uchida’s parents maintain for their home country is one of respect for one’s upbringing. This quote marks an advancing point in the book’s arc that explores the conflicting sense of Japanese-American identity experienced by first-generation Issei immigrants.This is the generation that while interned displays a spirit of resolution and strength in the face of meager and unjust conditions. 

“The Knowledge was taught from our lives’ beginnings, whether we realized it or not. Street professors presided over invisible corner podiums, and the Knowledge was dispensed. Their faces were smoke and obscured by the tilt of their Kangols. They lectured from sacred texts like Basic Game, Applied Cool, Barbershop 101. Their leather gloved hands thumbed through chapters, like “The Subtle and Misunderstood Art of Dap.” There was the geometry of cocking a baseball cap, working theories on what jokes to laugh at and exactly how loud; and entire volumes dedicated to the crossover dribble. Bill inhaled the Knowledge and departed in a sheepskin cap and gown. I cut class, slept through lectures, and emerged awkward and wrong.” 

Towards the end of Chapter 2, Uchida describes how society caused Japanese Americans to feel ashamed at something in their heritage that should have made them proud. In these pages, Uchida discusses how her generation lacked the social consciousness to protest for civil rights that later generations demonstrated. So, while the beginning of Chapter 2 shows the Uchida family deeply enmeshed in American life, the end of Chapter 2 presents a far different picture, one in which the Uchidas are subject to racist remarks and feelings of being neither authentically Japanese nor authentically American. 

“‘Oh No,’ Mama cried out. ‘It can’t be true.’ ‘Of course not,’ Papa reassured her. ‘And if it is it’s only the work of a fanatic. We all agreed with him. Of course it could only be an aberrant act of some crazy irresponsible fool. It never for a moment occurred to any of us that this meant war.”

This opening anecdote in Chapter 3 brings lunchtime table conversation in the Uchida home on the day of Pearl Harbor to life. Pertinent are the American loyalty and confidence, and the innocent belief that the radio report must be a mistake. Despite the announcement, Uchida is more concerned with studying for upcoming university exams and goes to the library. 

“‘Let’s leave the porch light on and the screen door unlatched,’ Mama said hopefully. ‘Maybe Papa will be back later tonight.’” 

Mrs. Uchida says this before putting Yoshiko and Keiko to bed the night of Pearl Harbor. Mr. Uchida has been arrested, and with no information as to what may happen to Mr. Uchida, Mrs. Uchida maintains stoic composure, further developing the theme of courage in the face of struggle. The statement captures the optimism shown by Niseilike Mrs. Uchida. 

“We tried to go on living as normally as possible, behaving as other American citizens. Most Nisei had never been to Japan. The United States of America was our only country and we were totally loyal to it. Wondering how we could make other Americans understand this, we bought defense bonds, signed up for civilian defense and cooperated fully with every wartime regulation […] Even one of our white friends asked, ‘Did you have any idea the Pearl Harbor attack was coming?’ It was a question that stunned and hurt us.”

Here, Uchida characterizes the sentiment of her and other Japanese Americans in the weeks following Pearl Harbor. A culture of fear surrounded Japanese Americans. The quote captures the Uchidas’ efforts to prove their Americanism, further complicating the theme of what is Japanese American identity and asking, in rhetorical fashion, what it takes to prove one is an American. The fact this hysteria prompts Uchida’s white friend to ask if Uchida knew Pearl Harbor was coming nails home how misperceived Japanese Americans came to be through false media accounts and other products of fear.

“It wasn’t until I saw the armed guards standing at each doorway, their bayonets mounted and ready, that I realized the full horror of the situation.” 

If at the beginning of Chapter 3 the Uchidas are sure Pearl Harbor is the work of a fanatic, this recollection in the closing pages of Chapter 4 illustrates how far Uchida herself has come from her earlier point of view. Mr. Uchida is arrested after Pearl Harbor, and in ten days, Mrs. Uchida, Yoshiko and Keiko pack up a house in which they lived for fifteen years. 

“When we reached stall number 40, we pushed open the narrow door and looked uneasily into the vacant darkness. The stall was about ten by twenty feet and empty except for three folded Army cots lying on the floor. Dust, dirt, and wood shavings covered the linoleum that had been laid over manure-covered boards, the smell of horses hung in the air, and the whitened corpses of many bugs still clung to the […] white-washed walls.” 

Uchida demonstrates her prose’s cinematic style, animating the experience of arriving at the family’s housing quarters at Tanforan, a horse track converted into a concentration camp, where some internees lived in barracks and others, like the Uchidas, lived in converted horse stalls. Here, Uchida’s factual recount of details draws precise imagery demonstrating the degradation experienced by internees. 

“We may have been in a racetrack ‘assembly center’ with four cots now crowded into a stall that had housed a single horse, but we were together once more, and that was something to be grateful for.” 

Halfway through Chapter 5, with this simple declaration characterizes the Uchida family’s spirits on the night of Mr. Uchida’s arrival at Tanforan. With imagery of human families degraded by living in stalls built for a single horse, this quote demonstrates how racist sentiments, voiced in the previous chapter, produced a cultural hysteria that led to the lack of value placed on human life and stripped American citizens of basic constitutional rights. Also at play here is Uchida’s major theme of the poignant strength and optimism displayed by both interned Issei and Nisei.

“All during the war years my father never forgot his friends who were not as fortunate as he and had to remain in the prisoner of war camps. They were eventually scattered to distant camps in New Mexico, Louisiana, North Dakota, and Ellis Island, and some men were moved so often that letters to them would return covered with forwarding addresses that had failed to locate them. The thought of their lonely lives in internment always saddened us.”

In the closing paragraphs of Chapter 5, Uchida demonstrates that though Mr. Uchida returned, many families remained broken apart by internment. Here, Uchida characterizes the Uchidas’ belief in helping others. Uchida, Keiko, and Mrs. Uchida knit gloves, socks, hats, and sent books, games, and candy to Mr. Uchida and other men imprisoned in Minnesota. The Uchida women also exchanged letters and gifts with friends on the outside. This quote shows Mr. Uchida kept in touch, when able, with these men, further characterizing his deep sense of compassion, commitment, and community.

“Whenever the children played house, they always stood in line to eat at make-believe mess halls rather than cooking and setting tables as they would have done at home. It was sad to see how quickly the concept changed for them.”

In this quote about Uchida’s students in the camps, a few pages into Chapter 6, Uchida furthers the theme of the erasure of Japanese-American identity. The camps replace children’s homes, calling the future of Japanese American identity into question on both physical and symbolic levels. 

“Dozens of small vegetable and flower gardens flourished along the barracks and stables, and a corner of camp that once housed a junk pile was transformed into a colorful camp garden of stocks, sweetpeas, irises, zinnias and marigolds. A group of talented men also made a miniature park with trees and a waterfall, creating a small lake complete with a wooden bridge, a pier, and an island.” 

Here, we see how Japanese Americans set to industry and maximized their days at Tanforan, even though they knew internment there was temporary. By this point, halfway through Chapter 6, it is May. In a few weeks, nursery and elementary schools are running. A softball league, weekly musicals, and talent shows have been organized. A newspaper is published and an official election takes place, though the Army later ignores results and shuts down self-governing attempts. Again, Uchida presents the motif of flowers. Like their home in Berkeley, the Uchidasand fellow Japanese Americans, due to their industrious efforts, are once again surrounded by civic life and colorful growth, in the face of internment and abject racism. 

“They were determined to see us, however, and returned the next day laden with snacks and some of my mother’s London smoke carnations, the stems carefully wrapped in wet cotton. Because their two boys were under sixteen, they were not permitted to enter the grounds, and when Kay and I went outside to look for them, we saw them standing disconsolately near the gate.” 

Uchida recalls the finals days before leaving Tanforan for internment further inland. Her Swiss neighbors drive from Berkeley to deliver gifts, and once again, we see the motif of flowers. Mrs. Uchida was devastated when she left her plentiful garden at home behind in order to evacuate to the camps. This ongoing friendship with the Uchida family’s Swiss neighbors signifies the community roots and strength of friendships maintained by the Uchidas. It also points out another immigrant American family that is less impacted by racist stereotypes and misconceptions. 

“By the time we passed the bay, we could only look out from the edge of the drawn shades, but we could see the lights of the bridge sparkling across the dark water, still serene and magnificent and touched by the war. I continued to look out long after the bridge had vanished into the darkness, unutterably saddened by this fleeting glimpse of all that meant home to me.” 

Uchida strikes a dissonant tone in the opening pages of Chapter 7, as the family makes its way from Tanforan andleaves San Francisco by way of the Golden Gate Bridge. Seeing her home city for the first time in six months marks a strange moment in Uchida’s mind, where the past disappears into an uncertain future. In a few days, the Uchidas will arrive in Topaz. Meanwhile, the Golden Gate Bridge stands as a symbol that peace and life remain untouched outside the war, lending a degree of hope to this stark recollection.

“As we plodded through the powdery sand toward Block 7, I began to understand why everyone had looked like pieces of flour-dusted pastry. In its frantic haste to construct this barrack city, the Army had removed every growing thing, and what had once been a peaceful lake bed was now churned up into one great mass of loose flour-like sand. With each step we sank two or three inches deep, sending up swirls of dust that crept in our eyes and mouths, noses and lungs.” 

The Uchida family arrives at Topaz and their new living quarters in Block 7. Important here is the flower imagery of last chapter uprooted and replaced with its homonym,“flour.” This flour imagery is loaded: it suggests a white-washing of Japanese-American identity and presents a frantic, ill-prepared Army. This behavior results in the inhumane treatment of American citizens by the American government. It’s a stark change from the bustling community roots and city that developed in just six months at Tanforan. Uchida sets the stage once again for Japanese American industry and courage displayed by Issei to take root. 

“I was touched, as always, to see their eagerness to learn despite the desolation of their surroundings, the meager tools for learning, and, in this case, the physical dangers they encountered just to reach school. At the time their cheerful residency encouraged me, but I’ve wondered since if the bewildering trauma of the forced removal from their homes inflicted permanent damage to their young psyches.” 

Uchida illustrates the courage of the children she taught at elementary school in Topaz and begins to raise the question of how children will be impacted in the long-run. This quote comes just after a violent dust storm rips through the camp, with barracks a few feet away obscured by dust, and after Uchida and other internees have suffered drastic cold that closed the schools, which were still without ceilings. The quote comes after Uchida describes the physical sickness many experienced due in part to a lack of basic resources. 

“The young trees looked frail in the alkaline soil, but we all felt anything was worth trying. We longed desperately for something green, some trees or shrubs or plants so we might have something to look forward to with the approach of spring […] But we were eventually defeated by the harsh climate and the unfriendly soil. Our desert remained a desert, and not even the industrious Japanese Americans could transform it into anything else.” 

Here, Uchida recounts a master plan to plant trees in front of mess halls at Tanforan, again demonstrating the Japanese-American community spirit. But Chapter 8 details the harsher conditions in Topaz and the frigid winter that ensues. Despite internees’ efforts, the situation at Topaz worsens, even giving way to nighttime theft and assaults. 

“We were saddened and frustrated to realize that when manpower was so badly needed in America’s war effort, we Japanese Americans were not only denied the right to serve our country, but had been made its willing victims.”

Here, Uchida recounts a master plan to plant trees in front of mess halls at Tanforan, again demonstrating the Japanese-American community spirit. But Chapter 8 details the harsher conditions in Topaz and the frigid winter that ensues. Despite internees’ efforts, the situation at Topaz worsens, even giving way to nighttime theft and assaults. 

“As I hugged my mother and father and each of my friends, I cried for them, because they could not come with us, and I cried for myself, for the sense of loss and separation that was filling my heart.” 

Uchida recounts the day she leaves Topaz for Smith College, which she attends after spending the summer in New York City. A photograph of Uchida and Keiko and their parents accompanies these closing paragraphs. Uchida wears a dress knit by Mrs. Uchida. These few lines encapsulate Uchida’s mix of hope and sadness upon leaving Topaz. She is heading towards a brighter future but her parents and thousands of Japanese Americans remain interned. 

“They were right to ask these questions, for they made us search for some obscured truths and come to a better understanding of ourselves and of those times. They are the civilization for whom civil rights meant more than just words. They are the generation who taught us to celebrate our ethnicity and discover our ethnic pride.”

In the Epilogue, Uchida addresses the silence of her generation concerning internment compared to the voice of protest raised by later generations, praising the evolved social consciousness that led to people standing up for civil rights. This civic protest led to reparations and official public apologies. This quote pays homage to those later generations, further strengthening Uchida’s theme of courage and showing how Japanese-American identity evolved in subsequent decades.