I met Kiyo Itokazu recently. He was in the first graduating class at Hawaii Baptist Academy, which I’ll be writing about next month.
Itokazu, 83, has written a book called “A Chaplain’s Pilgrimage,” and I thought my readers would enjoy hearing about his childhood. His grandfather Tohei Itokazu had come to Hawaii in the early 1900s from Okinawa.
During the first 10 years of his life, his family lived at Pioneer Mill, in Keawe Camp, about 2 miles from downtown Lahaina on Maui.
“The camp had about 65 plantation homes,” Itokazu says. “The occupants were mostly of Japanese and Okinawan ancestry. There were also Filipino and Portuguese families that lived there.
“Our house was located on a rocky dirt road that was more like a wide pathway. Rarely did I see a car drive by except for the milkman and iceman.”
The plantation houses were simply constructed with a parlor, veranda, one bedroom and a kitchen.
The kitchen had a sink, an icebox and a simple table and chairs. It had a kerosene stove, which took an hour to heat up before any cooking could be done. There were no bathrooms or toilets, no television, refrigerator or telephone. They did have a Philco radio.
“The laundry was done outdoors with no washing machine. There was a fire pit to heat the laundry water, a pounding stick, a grooved scrub board and galvanized tub to rinse the clothes.”
After the clothes were dry, there was ironing to do. “Mom also took in other laundry from Filipino bachelor workers for some extra cash.
“As a child, I never received any store-bought toys, as my parents were never able to afford them. Whatever toys I had, I made from used items such as empty sardine cans and empty Log Cabin syrup cans.
“The syrup can spout became the smokestack for my train engine. The sardine cans were my cabooses, connected by a string. There were no wheels, but I was able to pull the train on the soft, cool dirt under our plantation house.
“The cabooses were filled with small rocks or dirt, and I provided the choo-choo train sounds. I could be occupied for hours playing with my toys in the coolest spot of the house.”
Keawe camp had one communal bath, three community toilets and a park. The bath was composed of a giant concrete tub full of hot water where a dozen people could comfortably sit and enjoy the steaming water.
“Alongside of the tub were wooden benches where individuals would sit, scoop some water from the tub and pour on themselves,” Itokazu recalls. “They would soap and scrub and rinse again before stepping into the tub. Hot water was added to the pool to maintain a certain temperature.”
Another tub of the same size existed for the women, separated by a corrugated tin panel from the men.
As the villagers entered the community bath with their soap, towel and change of clothes, they would place them in an open cubicle and leave their geta (wooden slippers) at the entry.
“The getas were elevated about 2 inches,” Itokazu says, “which kept the feet clean from the dirt or mud.
“In the community bath, modesty was left at the door, as the sole purpose was to wash oneself of the dirt and sweat and enjoy the penetrating heat from the water to soothe and relax the body.”
The community toilets were at three different sites within the camp. “It was a simple structure separated by a wall for males and females. The toilet seat was a long bench with three or four holes to sit on. Every so many minutes the elevated water tank filled up and flushed the contents sideways into a cesspool.
“Dad worked very hard on the sugar plantation. He hauled sugar cane on his shoulders and loaded the rail cars. Whatever money he earned, he used it to pay off debts incurred by his father.
“He then began a savings account with the Sumitomo Bank in Japan with the intent of taking us back to Okinawa where he had purchased a plot of land.
“The war altered the course of our lives. The savings in the Japan bank was lost due to the devaluation of the yen. As a result, we struggled financially throughout my childhood years.”
Most of the Okinawan residents at Keawe Camp raised pigs at the pigpens 100 yards away from the camp.
“I recall Mom carrying me on her back, feeling the warmth of her body, wrapped with an obi sash, while she was pregnant with my younger sister, Jean.
“She fed two or three pigs we owned daily. Each family was assigned a pen and took care of their pigs. Ours were raised from infancy and were sold when they reached maturity.
“Mom had to carry the slop in two 5-gallon cans with a carrying stick. Being pregnant and with me on her back made it quite a task. We also raised chickens, ducks and rabbits in the backyard.”
Itokazu attended Kamehameha III school from first to fourth grade, from 1942 to 1946. It was adjacent to the beach.
“The school did not have a jungle gym,” Itokazu recalls. “There was a slide pole (similar to those at a fire station). We would climb up a ladder to the top of a one-story building. That was our recess, sliding down the pole.
“From the schoolyard we could always view the playful humpback whales during their season. This was a common occurrence and thus, to me, was not a spectacular event as it is today.
“It was at this school that I had to repeat the fourth grade. The whole class flunked and only three students were promoted, because they had flunked three times before. Either we were all mentally slow or poor students. I never received a good explanation of this event.
“On the next block was located the famous banyan tree in Lahaina that stretches over 200 feet and shades two-thirds of an acre. My friends and I used to climb and play on that tree after school. The hanging roots were used as our swings.
“My friends George, James and I always ran around together. We walked everywhere, to school, to the beach or just around the camp.
“We had a swimming hole during the rainy season. After a heavy rain we would visit it, take off our clothes and swim in the nude. What a refreshing experience to take a dip in that freshwater pond.
“We enjoyed the freedom to roam from downtown Lahaina to the sugar cane fields. On other days we would walk barefooted about two miles along the railroad tracks to Kaanapali Beach. It was a virgin white sandy beach protected by a forest of kiawe trees.
“At the beach we would catch small fish called manini with our fishing poles and cook them over a fire. Mom always made a small rice ball for me when we went to the beach.
“The freedom to roam on the sand and dip into the clear blue ocean, to cool off from the rays of the sun, was paradise to us.
“The only holiday we celebrated was New Year’s Day. It was a real special treat, according to Japanese tradition.
“The first thing on Dad’s agenda was to take a bath. He also made sure all debts were paid, as part of the tradition. I would go with my dad to wish our neighbors a happy new year. By so doing, I received monetary gifts,” Itokazu says.
“Throughout the day, families visited, ate some food and traveled to the next house.
“New Year’s Day was very special to me because it was the only time I was privileged to have a cold soda: orange, creme or strawberry. This was a real treat.
“Of course we had mochi, ‘yokan’ (a sweet soybean curd) and many chicken and pork dishes. It was a party time when guests arrived and the men began drinking sake. This was the only occasion when I saw my dad drunk and happy.”
The Itokazu family moved to Oahu when Kiyo was 10. He graduated from Hawaii Baptist Academy and served for 20 years as an Army chaplain, and then a chaplain with Pacific Health Ministry. Itokazu retired in 2001 and still conducts memorial services when called upon for civilians and veterans.
Bob Sigall is the author of the five “The Companies We Keep” books, full of stories of Hawaii people, places and companies. Contact him at Sigall@Yahoo.com.
