Scattered All Over the Earth by Yoko Tawada

Author:Yoko Tawada
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780811229296
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2022-03-01T00:00:01+00:00

Chapter 6 Hiruko Speaks (Two)

As I looked up at the sky, blue came deep inside me and emptied me out. The square windows on a snow-white five-story building stared down at me like a robot’s eyes, that same blue reflected in the glass; perhaps there were people living behind those windows but I didn’t know them and probably never would. The building next door was deep red, about the same height but much more rhythmical, with glassed-in balconies at regular intervals along the outside. Each veranda had a little table where people could sit quietly sipping tea, pretending not to hear the cars below, but in this city, full of logical angles and lines that suppressed all signs of violent emotion while at the same time deftly avoiding ugliness, I didn’t know anyone well enough to sit on a veranda with them.

Passersby walked casually down the street, a little too fast. The shops were dark inside, or had their shutters down. Sharp-eyed men looked out from parked cars.

Something seemed odd from the time I arrived at Oslo Airport. Policemen were standing around in the terminal building, and there was a long line in front of a counter marked “Border.” Normally there is no immigration inspection for travelers within Scandinavia.

“Your passport has expired.”

“renewal impossible.”

“Why?”

“country vanished. residence permit for denmark have.”

I handed all the documents I had with me to the inspector. When I’m talking to government officials, my Panska sounds very fragile. I made this language by gathering threads just strong enough to get my meaning across, but now I was afraid its beauty would be trampled by the sheer force of authority.

“Your job?”

“märchen center.”

“Do you work in the office?”

“animals on paper draw. to immigrant children stories tell.”

He must have gotten fed up listening to my explanation, because he turned away and loudly stamped my passport.

Men in uniforms, carrying guns, were stationed along the corridor. Judging from their uniforms, they were not policemen, but soldiers. I kept my head down so I wouldn’t have to look at them. My legs felt stiff, as if encased in invisible plaster casts.

When I got off the train in front of a theater, I saw a kiosk outside the station. Behind the colorful packets of gum and newspaper photos was a fresh-faced young girl with clusters of freckles like constellations, making her even prettier. When I asked her how to get to the restaurant “Shinise Fuji,” she looked it up on a map and marked it for me.

“thank you,” I said. “norwegians very kind.”

“There are killers here too,” her face twisting into a frown: “Take care!” That was not something I was expecting to hear.

In a corner of this city, a constant struggle between land and water, I found a large terrace made of reddish brown wood. An octagonal building with glass walls was perched on top of it like a young girl with her skirt spread out around her. The roof looked like a kaku obi, the stiff sash men wear with kimono. I had almost forgotten that word, kaku obi.

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