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MEMOIRS OF A GEISHABy ARTHUR GOLDEN

Translator’s NoteBy Jakob Haarhuis, Professor of JapaneseHistory, New York University.

I first met Nitta Sayuri in 1985, although shecame to live in the United States in 1956. Forthe next forty years of her life she lived inelegant rooms, decorated in the Japanese style,on the thirty-second floor of New York City’sWaldorf Towers.If she had stayed in Japan, her life would havebeen too full for her to tell it in her memoirs. Buthere in New York she had time, and one day Iasked if she would allow me to write her story.“Well Jakob,” Sayuri said to me, “I might tell mystory if I can tell it to you.”This was because I knew Japan and I knew itshistory. Sayuri was clear that she wanted to tellme her story, not write it down. As a geisha,she would always talk to people, face-to-face;that was her life. She couldn’t write a story in anempty room; she needed somebody with her,listening, talking to her. I suggested that sheshould talk into a tape-recorder, and sheagreed.But there were conditions. She wanted her storyto be published only after her death and afterthe deaths of the men in her life. She did notwant anybody to be embarrassed by hermemoirs. That is also why she hides theidentities of certain people behind names like“Pumpkin”, although geisha use these namesall the time in their work.A geisha’s work is to entertain men; geishatrain for years to sing and dance and playinstruments at parties. The men at these partiespay to have the geisha there. In Sayuri’s time a

really popular geisha could earn one ohana –three japanese yen – for every fifteen minutesthat she spent at a party. That was enough tobuy two bottles of wine in Kyoto in the 1930s.The geisha, however, did not keep all the moneyherself. Some of it went to the teahouse wherethe party was held, some went to her dresser,some went went to the okiya – the housewhere geisha live.But the real money, at least for a top geisha,came from having a danna. No man could buya top geisha for just one night. A man whowanted to be with a geisha for maybe sixmonths or more could become her danna – ifshe was available and if he agreed fees withthe mistress of her main teahouse. A dannapaid a lot of geisha’s expenses. He paid for hermake-up and maybe her lesson fees –because she never stopped learning to danceand to play instruments. And he still paid her fee– ohana – when she entertained him, but shewent home with him afterwards.Geisha usually don’t talk about these things.Sayuri could only tell me about her life becauseshe had left Japan and nobody in Japan hadpower over her any longer. So she talked intothe tape-recorder and I listened.Sometimes, still, I play her tapes during theevenings in my study and find it very difficult tobelieve she is no longer alive.

Chapter 1 The Little Fish Girl

I wasn’t born and brought up to be a Kyotogeisha. I wasn’t even born in Kyoto. I’m afisherman’s daughter from a little town calledYoroido on the Sea of Japan. We lived in a tinyhouse, high above the sea, and my fathersmelled like the sea even after he washed.One day, many years ago, I was entertaining ata party in Kyoto and a man said he was inYoroido only last week. I felt like a bird that hasflown across the ocean and finds another birdthat knows its nest. I couldn’t stop myself – Isaid:“Yoroido. That’s where I grew up.”The man didn’t believe me.“You can’t mean it,” he said, and laughed. “You,growing up in Yoroido. That’s like making tea ina bucket.”Well, I’d never thought of Yoroido as a bucket,though it’s not pretty. In those days, the early1930s, it had only one road leading to theJapan Coastal Seafood Company, which soldall the fish that my father and the otherfishermen caught.My father was a very old man. I was twelvethen, but from the day I was born I neverlooked like him at all. I always looked like mymother. We had the same strange eyes; youhardly ever saw eyes like ours in Japan. Insteadof being dark brown like everyone elses’s, mymother’s eyes were a shining gray and mineare just the same. It’s the water in both our

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personalities. My father had w o o d in hispersonality; mother and I were full of water.Not all the water was running out of motherbecause of her illness. You could see everybone in her face getting harder and harder asthe water dried out. Dr Miura visited her everytime he came to our village.“Chiyo”, my father would say to me, “get thedoctor a cup of tea.”My name back then was Chiyo. It was manyyears before I was known by my geisha name,Sayuri.“Sakamoto,” said the doctor to my father onetime, “you need to have a talk with one of thewomen in the village. Ask them to make a newdress for your wife. She shouldn’t die in that olddress she’s wearing.”“So she’s going to die soon?,” asked my father.“A few more weeks, maybe,” said Dr Miura.After that I couldn’t hear their voices for a time.And then… “I thought I’d die first,” my fatherwas saying.“You’re an old man, Sakamoto. But you mighthave another year or two.”

One afternoon Icame home fromschool and found MrT a n a k a I c h i r owalking up the pathto my house. MrTanaka ’ s fami lyowned the JapanCoasta l SeafoodCompany. He didn’twear p e a s a n tclothes l ike thefishermen. He wore aman’s kimono withkimono pants.“Ah, Chiyo,” said MrTanaka. “Dr Miuratold me that yourmother’s sick. Give

her this.” He handed me a packet wrapped inrice paper, about the size of a fish head. “It’sChinese medicine,” he told me. “Don’t listen toDr Miura if he says it’s worthless.”He turned to go but then turned back again. “Iknow a man,” he said. “He’s older now, butwhen he was a boy about your age, his fatherdied. The following year his mother died.Sounds a bit like you, don’t you think?”.Mr Tanaka gave me a look that meant I had toagree with him. “Well, that man’s name isTanaka Ichiro,” he continued. “I was taken in bythe Tanaka family at the age of twelve. Theygave me a new start.”

The next day I came home from school andfound Mr Tanaka sitting across from my fatherat the little table in our house.“So, Sakamoto, what do you think of my idea?.”

“I don’t know, sir,” said my father. “I can’timagine Chiyo living somewhere else.”Part of me hoped desperately that Mr Tanakawould adopt me, but I was also ashamed that Iwanted to live anywhere except my little houseabove the sea. As Mr Tanaka left, I heard myfather crying.

The next day Mr Tanaka came to collect me in alittle cart pulled by two horses. I thought wewere going to his house but we drove to thetrain station. A tall, thin man met us there.“This is Mr Bekku,” said Mr Tanaka. And then hedrove away again. Mr Bekku gave me a look ofdisgust.“Fish. Ugh. You smell of fish,” he said.When the train came, Mr Bekku and I got on. Assoon as we sat down he took out a comb andstarted pulling it through my hair. It hurt a lotand although I tried not to cry, in the end I did.Then he stopped doing it. The train went on andon, away from my home.“Where are we going?,” I asked, after a time.“Kyoto,” he said. It was the only word he said tome on the long train journey. Kyoto sounded asforeign to me as Hong Kong or even New York,which I’d once heard Dr Miura talk about.I could see little of the city as we neared Kyotostation, but then I was astonished to seerooftop after rooftop, all touching, as far as thedistant hills. I could never have imagined a cityso huge.Back in the 1930s there were still rickshaws inKyoto. Mr Bekku led me by the elbow and weclimbed into a rickshaw.“Gion,” Mr Bekku said to the rickshaw driver. Itwas the first time I ever heard the name of thefamous geisha area of Kyoto.I fell back in the seat as the rickshaw driverpicked up the poles and ran through thestreets.“Won’t you please tell me where I’m going?,” Isaid to Mr Bekku.For a moment I thought he wasn’t going toreply. Then he said, “To your new home.”Soon we turned onto a street that seemed asbroad as the whole village of Yoroido. I couldhardly see the other side because of all thepeople, bicycles, cars, and trucks. I’d never seena car or a truck before – except in photographs.After a long time the rickshaw turned down analley of wooden houses. We stopped and MrBekku told me to get out. There in the doorwaystood the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,wearing a kimono more perfect than anythingI’d ever imagined. It was water blue with whitelines that curled like the current in a streamwhen she moved. It was pure silk. And herclothing wasn’t the only extraordinary thingabout her; her face was painted a kind of richwhite, like a cloud lit by the sun.This was Hatsumomo. I didn’t know it then butshe was one of the most famous geisha in Gion.She was a tiny woman; even with her black,

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shiny hair up high she came only to Mr Bekku’sshoulders.

“Mr Bekku,” said Hatsumomo. “What is thatstrong smell of fish?. Could you take thegarbage out later, please. I want to pass by.”There was no garbage there; she was talkingabout me.Mr Bekku led me past Hatsumomo into thesmall, elegant house. It was built up on stones,with enough space under it for a cat to crawlunder. Inside, the hall had a wooden floor thatshone in the yellow light of electric lamps.A door slid back and a woman came out,smoking a pipe.“This is the new girl, Mrs Nitta,” said Mr Bekku.“Ah, yes. The little fish girl,” said the woman.“Come closer. I want to have a look at you.Heavens . What amazing eyes. You’re abeautiful girl, aren’t you?.”

She spoke with the same peculiar accent asBekku and Hatsumomo. It sounded so differentfrom the Japanese spoken in my village that Ihad a hard time understanding her. I couldn’tlook at her, so I kept my eyes down on thewooden floor.“There’s no need to worry, little girl. No one’sgoing to cook you. My name is Mrs Nitta andthis is the Nitta okiya.”I raised my eyes a little. Her kimono was yellow,with smooth brown branches carrying lovelygreen and orange leaves. It was made of themost beautiful, delicate, thin silk. Then I raisedmy eyes higher and almost cried out in shock.The colors of her face were all wrong. Hereyelids were red like meat and her gums andtongue were gray. I later learned that this wasdue to a problem with her diet, but at the time Ijust stared in horror.“What are you looking at?”, said Mrs Nitta, assmoke from her pipe rose from her face.“I’m very sorry, madam. I was looking at yourkimono,” I told her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seenanything like it.”This must have been the right answer, becauseshe laughed, though the laugh sounded like acough.“So you like it, do you,” she said, continuing tocough or laugh, I didn’t know which. “Do youhave any idea what it cost?.”“No, ma’am.”“More than you did, that’s certain.”

A young girl came out into the hall, carrying awooden bucket full of water. She was a littleolder than me, thirteen or fourteen. Her bodywas thin, but her face was round. Even whenshe was a geisha in Gion many years later,everybody called her Pumpkin.“Ah, Pumpkin,” said Mrs Nitta. “get the little fishgirl clean and get her out of those peasantclothes.”“Yes, ma’am,” said Pumpkin.

She led me through the hall to a courtyard inthe back. The bucket was heavy for her andwhen she put it down half the water spilled outover the dirty floor.“Where on earth did you come from?,” shesaid.I didn’t want to say I’d come from Yoroido.Pumpkin’s accent was as strange to me aseverybody else’s. I was sure she wouldn’t knowwhere Yoroido was. I said instead that I’d justarrived.“I thought I’d never see another girl my age,”she said to me. “Why are your eyes thatcolour?.”I didn’t answer that, but took my clothes off soPumpkin could wash me with a cloth she tookout of the bucket. After that, she went to aroom in the courtyard and got me a kimono. Itwas made of rough cotton in a simple darkblue pattern, but it was certainly more elegantthan anything I’d worn before.“I don’t even want to know your name yet,” saidPumpkin. “I have to learn new names all thetime. Mrs Nitta didn’t like the last girl who cameand she was only here a month.”“What will happen if they don’t want to keepme?.”“It’s better for you if they keep you.”“Why?. What… what is this place?.”“It’s an okiya. It’s where geisha live. Our geishais called Hatsumomo and we look after her anddo everything for her. She earns all the moneyfor the okiya. If you work very hard, you’ll growup to be a geisha yourself. But it takes years oftraining.”

I had a sudden image in my mind of my poor,sick mother in bed, pushing herself up on oneelbow and looking around to see where I’dgone. Tears came into my eyes before I couldthink how to stop them.

Chapter 2 No Escape

During those first few weeks in that strangeplace, I couldn’t have felt worse if I’d lost myarms and legs, rather than my family and myhome. I was confused and miserable, and Ihad no doubt that life would never again be thesame.But strangely, during all that time, I felt anunreasonable warmth for Mrs Nitta –something like the feeling that a fish might havefor the fisherman who pulls the hook from itslip. Probably this was because I saw her nomore than a few minutes each day whilecleaning her room. She was always there, sittingat the table with an account book open infront of her. The accounts were alwaysorganizad, but nothing else was. She wasmessier even than Hatsumomo.

Hatsumomo lived like a queen in the okiyabecause she earned the income from which we

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all lived. And honestly I’ve never seen a moreastonishing-looking woman. Men in the streetsometimes stopped and took their cigarettesfrom their mouths to stare at her.Her room was the largest in the okiya, largerthan my entire house in Yoroido. At first, I didn’tunderstand why it was so much bigger eventhan Mrs Nitta’s. Then Pumpkin told me that inthe past there’d been three or four geisha in theokiya and they’d all slept together in that oneroom, but Hatsumomo was the only geisha inthe okiya now.

I always tried toclean the room assoon as Hatsumomoleft for her dancelessons. I wasworried about whatmight happen if shecame back and foundme alone in there. Ihardly saw herbecause of the busy

life she led, but I was still terrified of her.One day, when I’d been in the okiya about amonth, Mrs Nitta led me upstairs toHatsumomo’s room, to watch her put on hermake-up.Before we went in, Mrs Nitta warned me not toget in Hatsumomo’s way. This is because,without her make-up, a geisha is like any otherwoman. She only becomes a geisha when shesits in front of her mirror to put her make-up on.And I don’t just mean that this is when shebegins to look like a geisha; this is when shebegins to think like one too.Hatsumomo told me to sit to the side of her andjust behind. From there, I could see her face inthe tiny mirror on her make-up table. She hadhalf a dozen make-up brushes of differentsizes and shapes. She told me what they wereall called and how to use them.“Now, why do you suppose I’ve shown youthese things?,” she said.“So I’ll understand how you put on your make-up,” I said.“Heavens, no. I’ve shown them to you so you’llsee there isn’t any magic to it. How sad for you.Because it means that make-up alone won’t beenough to change the little fish girl intosomething beautiful.”

Hatsumomo turned back to the mirror and sangquietly to herself. She painted her face and neckwith a pale yellow cream, but left her eyes bareas well as the area around her lips and nose.Then she used the smaller brushes on theseareas. I knew that in an hour or two, men wouldbe looking with astonishment at that face; and Iwould still be here, cleaning the courtyard andthe toilets in the okiya, washing the rice bowlsand sweating.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Hatsumomo.“You’re thinking you’ll never be so beautiful.Well, it’s perfectly true.”Then she sent me down to the room in thecourtyard to get her a kimono. Outside the roomI saw Mr Bekku. I knew now that collectingyoung girls from fishing villages was not MrBekku’s only job. He was Hatsumomo’s dresserand he helped her with the complicated job ofdressing in the many elegant kimonos that theokiya owned.“Oh, it’s you,” said Hatsumomo, when I returnedwith a kimono. “I thought I heard a little mouseor something. Tell me, are you the one who re-arranges all my make-up jars?.”“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” I said. “I only movethem to dust underneath.”“But if you touch them,” she said, “they’ll startto smell like you. And then the men will say tome – Hatsumomo, you smell just like a stupidgirl from a fishing village – I am sure youunderstand that, don’t you?. But repeat it, justto be sure. Why don’t I want you to touch mymake-up?.”It was difficult to make myself say it, but in theend I did.“Because it will start to smell like me,” I said.“That’s very good. And what will the men say?.”“They’ll say – Hatsumomo, you smell just like astupid girl froma fishing village.”“Hmmm… there’s something about the way yousaid it that I don’t like.”Hatsumomo smiled and stood very close to me.I thought she was going to whisper in my ear,but she hit me across the face with her openhand.

I must have run out of the room because thenext thing I can remember is Mrs Nitta openingher door while she was still talking on thephone. I went into her room. Mrs Nitta said,“Sorry,” into the mouthpiece of the phone andadded, “Hatsumomo is hitting the maids again.”When she was finished on the telephone, shecalled for Hatsumomo. “Hatsumomo. What haveyou done to Chiyo?.”Hatsumomo looked innocent. “She moved all mymake-up jars, Mother, and she put her fingers inthem.”I said nothing. Mrs Nitta made me say “sorry” toHatsumomo, and then she made me say it againin a correct Kyoto accent.When Hatsumomo left, smiling, Mrs Nitta said,“I don’t think you understand your job here inthe okiya.” She nodded at the accounts. “We allthink of only one thing – how we can helpHatsumomo be successful as a geisha. I don’twant to hear that you’ve upset Hatsumomoagain. If Pumpkin can stay out of her way, socan you.”“Yes, Mrs Nitta.”

But I couldn’t keep out of Hatsumomo’s way.She often hit me across the face when we were

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alone together. And she always criticized theway I looked, especially my eyes.“I once saw a dead man fished out of the river,”she said to me one time, “ and his tongue wasjust the same colour as your eyes.”Another time a man came to the okiya at night.He was wearing a traditional workman’sjacket.“You’re a pretty one,” he said to me in a lowvoice. “What’s your name?.”I thought he must be a workman, though Ididn’t know what he was doing in the okiya solate. I was frightened of answering him, but Isaid my name.Then Hatsumomo appeared. As the man wentoff toward her room, she stopped and spoke tome. She sounded like an angry cat.“I haven’t tried to make your life really miserableyet,” she said. “But if you ever mention that aman came here to see me, that will change.”I wanted to say that she had succeeded inmaking my life really miserable, even if shehadn’t tried. But I didn’t say anything; I didn’twant her to hit me across the face again.About a week later, very late at night, I wascoming back from taking a drink of water at thewell in the courtyard. I heard the outside dooropen and Hatsumomo came in with another,tall, geisha. Hatsumomo was carrying apackage and I could see that she and the tallgeisha had been drinking. Hatsumomo drank alot of beer and amakuchi, a kind of light, sweetwine.Hatsumomo caught me in the hall. “this is ourstupid maid,” she said to the tall geisha. “Shehas a name, I think, but why don’t you just callher The Little Fish Girl.”“Get us some more to drink, Little Fish Girl,” saidthe tall geisha.“Oh, be quiet Korin,” said Hatsumomo. “Youdon’t need more to drink. Just look at this.”Hatsumomo opened the package. It was abeautiful kimono in different shades of green,with a pattern of red leaves.Hatsumomo said, “Korin, guess whose kimonois this.”“I wish it belonged to me,” said Korin.“Well, it doesn’t,” said Hatsumomo. “It belongsto the geisha we hate more than anyone else inthe world.”Korin’s eyes widened. “Mameha. You have oneof Mameha’s kimonos. How did you get it?.”“Her maid put the package down for a minute atthe Kaburenjo Theatre. Mameha is dancingthere,” said Hatsumomo. “Now, Little Fish Girl,go up to my room and get some ink and one ofthose brushes I use for writing.”I didn’t understand why Hatsumomo wantedthese things in the hall in the middle of thenight, but of course, I did what she said andbrought them. Hatsumomo put the end of thebrush in the ink. Then she put it into my handand held my hand over the lovely kimono.“Practice your writing, little Chiyo,” she said.

“I can’t do it, Hatsumomo,” I cried. I heard thenoise of a door opening upstairs, but I couldn’tsee anyone.“What a shame Little Fish Girl,” saidHatsumomo, “because I definitely rememberMother saying that if you annoy me again youcan’t start your training as a geisha.”When the brush first touched the kimono, Korinwasn’t happy with my first few uncertainbrushstrokes. So Hatsumomo instructed meexactly how to ruin the beautiful kimono withink. When I’d done it, she wrapped the kimonoagain.

Hatsumomo and Korinopened the door to thestreet and Hatsumomotold me to follow them.We walked up the alleyto a street runningalong the ShirakawaStream. Back in thosedays, the streets andalleys of Gion still hadb e a u t i f u l s t o n es i d e w a l k s . Wewalked along in themoon l i g h t , p a s tcherry trees whosebranches dropped

down into the black water. We went over awooden bridge into a part of Gion I’d never seenbefore.Hatsumomo and Korin stopped in front of awooden door.“You’re going to give this kimono to the maid,”Hatsumomo said to me. “Or if Miss Perfectherself answers the door, you may give it toher.”Even with so much fear in my heart, I couldn’thelp noticing how beautiful Hatsumomo was,next to the tall, long-faced Korin. I took thepackage with the ruined kimono and knocked atthe door.The maid who opened it wasn’t a lot older thanme. Behind her I saw a geisha and understoodat once why they called her Miss Perfect. Herface was a perfect oval.“Asami ,” said the perfect geisha. “Who’sthere?.”I put the package into the maid’s hands and ranback to the okiya without waiting forHatsumomo and Korin.

The next morning I saw the maid, Asami, again.She was coming out of Mrs Nitta’s room. MrsNitta immediately sent me to bring Hatsumomo.Hatsumomo had seen Mameha’s maid too, andshe started speaking before Mrs Nitta evenopened her mouth.“Oh, Mother, I know just what you’re going tosay. I felt terrible about the kimono. I tried tostop Chiyo before she put ink on it but it wastoo late. She must have thought it was mine. I

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don’t know why she’s hated me so much fromthe moment she came here.”“Everybody knows that you hate Mameha,” MrsNitta replied. “You hate anyone more successfulthan you. Now you listen to me, Hatsumomo. Iwon’t have this sort of behaviour in this okiya,even from you. I have great respect forMameha. And someone has to pay for thekimono. I don’t know what happened last nightbut it’s clear whose hand was holding the brush.Pumpkin saw the whole thing from her doorway.Chiyo will pay.”

Later that day, in our tiny room upstairs,Pumpkin and I lay on our futons and sheexplained it all to me.“I’m sorry,” she said. “I tried to help you withMrs Nitta. But Hatsumomo’s little trick with thekimono is going to cost you more money thanyou’ve ever imagined in your life.”“But… how will I pay?.”“When you begin working as a geisha, you’ll paythe okiya back for it. You’ll also pay backeverything else you’ll owe – your meals andlessons, your doctor fees if you get sick. Why doyou think Mrs Nitta spends all that time in herroom with her account book?. You owe theokiya even for the money it cost to bring youhere.”I thought of my father and Mr Tanaka. In theweeks I’d spent in Gion, I’d certainly imaginedthat money had changed hands to bring mehere. I saw my little house by the sea in mymind.“I’m going home,” I said to Pumpkin.“Oh no,” said Pumpkin. “They’ll bring you back.And then Mrs Nitta will see you as a badinvestment . She won’t put money intosomeone who might run away again. She won’tpay for your geisha lessons.”But I didn’t care. At least, I didn’t care then; Icared a lot later.

Late that night I lay on my futon, waitingimpatiemtly for darkness. If I could get homeagain, my mother wouldn’t send me back.Maybe she didn’t even know what father and MrTanaka had done. I would look after her, shewould get better…I got up quietly and glanced at Pumpkin,sleeping next to me. I dressed in my peasantclothes and shoes and went out to the

courtyard. There was no moon. I went past theroom where they kept the kimonos and pulledmyself up to the low roof. Slowly, carefully, I feltmy way along the roof on my hands and kneesin the dark.The roof of the building next door was a steplower than ours. I knew it was an okiya; all thehouses in this block were. Someone would bewaiting at the front door for the geisha to returnand they would grab me by the arm as Idropped down. So I crossed to the next roof andthen the next. And then one of my shoes cameoff. I grabbed at it as it slipped down the roofand fell into the courtyard below. As I did this, Ilost my balance and slid down the roof. I tried tostop myself sliding by holding onto the roof, butit was smooth and I fell, just as a woman cameout into the courtyard. I hit the ground at herfeet.“What’s this?. It’s raining little girls?.”

I wanted to jump up and run away, but onewhole side of my body hurt. I can’t remembergetting back to the Nitta okiya but I rememberMrs Nitta calling the doctor. And I remember theterrible pain.The next day Mrs Nitta called me into her room.“I paid seventy-five yen for you,” she said.“Then you ruined a kimono and now you’vebroken your arm so I have medical expensestoo. Why should I pay for geisha training?. Youalready owe more than you’ll ever repay. Whowould invest another yen in a girl who runaway?.”At that moment Hatsumomo came in.“You’re the most expensive maid in all of Gion,”she said. “And you’ll be a maid for the rest ofyour life.” She smiled. “You’ll never be a geishanow.”All that was in the fall. When spring came, thecherry trees were at their most beautiful inMarayama Park and along the ShirakawaStream. A letter came addressed to me. It wasfrom Mr Tanaka and it informed me that mymother and my father were no longer in thisearth.

Chapter 3 Hatsumomo and Mameha

For two years now, I’d lived the hard and boringlife of a maid. My life stretched out before melike a long path going nowhere. Sometimes, outin the street, I watched girls of my age comingback from geisha school, talking to each other.Maybe they were just talking about what theywere going to have for lunch, but to me theirlives had a purpose. I, on the other hand, wasgoing back to the okiya to wash the stones inthe courtyard.I walked down to Shijo Avenue and turnedtoward the Kamo River. The Minamiza Theatrewas showing a kabuki play that afternoon. Itwas Shibaraku , which is one of our most

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famous plays, though I knew nothing aboutkabuki theatre at the time.People streamed up the steps to the theatre inthe spring sunshine. Among the men in theirdark western-style suits or kimonos, therewere several geisha. They were so brightlycoloured that they were like bright fall leaves inthe brown waters of a river.The men and the geisha had a purpose –unlike me. I turned toward the Shirakawa, buteven the water in that stream seemed to movewith a purpose, running down toward the KamoRiver and from there to Osaka Bay and theInland Sea. Everything had a purpose exceptme. I threw myself onto the little stone wall atthe edge of the stream and cried.

“Oh, the day’s too pretty for such unhappiness,”said a voice.The man who had spoken had a broad, calmface. He was probably about forty-five years old,with gray hair combed straight back from hisforehead. He was so elegant I couldn’t look athim for long. I looked down.There was a geisha with him. “Oh, she’s only amaid,” said the geisha. “Really, Chairman, thekabuki play will be starting soon.”

In those days I spent a lot of time in the streetsof Gion, taking things to Hatsumomo atteahouses and bringing them back. On myjourneys I’d often heard men called by titles like“Department Head” and “Chairman.”“Please, sir,” I said to the Chairman. “Don’tmake yourself late because of me. I’m only asilly girl.”“Look at me a moment,” he said.I didn’t dare disobey him. I looked up. Hetook a handkerchief from his pocket andwiped my tears. As he bent over me, I couldsmell the talcum powder on his smooth skin.“Here you are, a beautiful girl with nothing tofear from life, and you’re afraid to look at me.Someone’s been cruel to you. Or maybe life hasbeen cruel.”“I don’t know, sir,” I said, though of course Iknew very well why I was crying.“None of us find as much kindness in the worldas we should,” he told me. “Keep thehandkerchief.”I knew then that I would always keep thehandkerchief and I would never forget him. Iclosed my eyes for a moment and when Iopened them he was gone.I ran to Shijo Avenue and all the way to theeastern end of Gion, where the Gion shrinestood. I climbed the steps to the shrine andbegan to pray. With my eyes shut tight andthe Chairman’s handkerchief pressed to my face,I prayed that somehow I could become ageisha.

Pumpkin was still at geisha school. She was aslow learner. Every day she spent hours

kneeling in the hall trying to learn to play hershamisen, one of the instruments that geishaplay at parties. I walked past her because therewas somebody at the door. We had a lot ofvisitors at the time. Mrs Nitta’s mother had justdied, and people from all over Gion were comingto pay their respects. The visitor was the perfectgeisha, Mameha.I wasn’t happy to see her because I wanted toforget the kimono incident, but then Iremembered that Mameha hadn’t actually seenme that night.

“What a beautiful girl,” Mameha said to me.“What unusual gray eyes. What’s your name?,”“Chiyo, ma’am.”

The next day there was a maid among thevisitors. After a second or two I recognizedAsami, Mameha’s maid. To my surprise, Asamididn’t go into the okiya to see Mrs Nitta; shespoke to me at the door.“Do you ever go out of the okiya, Chiyo?,” sheasked.“Yes, often,” I said. “Hatsumomo is alwaysforgetting combs, or she wants a shamisen, andI bring these things to her at the teahouse. Or Igo out and buy her food and beer.”“Good,” said Asami. “Then meet me at thebridge over the Shirakawa Stream at threeo’clock tomorrow.”

I couldn’t understand why she wanted me to dothis, but it wasn’t difficult to leave the okiya; MrsNitta hardly noticed me. So, of course, I went tothe bridge the next day. Asami led me toMameha’s apartment, the one I’d visited at nightwith Hatsumomo and Korin two years before.

“Chiyo is here, ma’am,” the maid called out.“All right, thank you Asami,” called Mamehafrom a back room.Mameha’s apartment wasn’t large but it wasextremely elegant, with beautiful tatami matson the floor that were obviously new and hadsilk around the edges, not the usual cotton.At last Mameha came out from the back room,dressed in a lovely white kimono with a waterdesign. I turned and bowed very low on themats while she walked gracefully to the table.She arranged herself on her knees opposite me,drank delicately from the tea the maid served,and then said:

“Hatsumomo has driven other attractive girls outof Gion.”I felt strangely happy to hear that. I said, “Idon’t know what I did to make her hate me somuch.”“Hatsumomo and I have known each other sinceI was a girl of six and she was nine,” saidMameha. “She’s no harder to understand than acat. A cat thinks another cat is eating from itsdish… .”

8

“But surely Hatsumomo doesn’t see me as arival, ma’am?.”“Not in the teahouses of Gion, maybe. But insidethe okiya. You see, Mrs Nitta never adoptedHatsumomo. If she had, Hatsumomo would beher daughter and Mrs Nitta would keep allHatsumomo’s earnings. And Hatsumomo is avery successful geisha. Now, why wouldsomeone who’s as interested in money as MrsNitta not adopt Hatsumomo?. There must be avery good reason, don’t you think?.”This was all very new to me. I nodded andMameha went on.“Mrs Nitta knows very well what sort of adopteddaughter Hatsumomo would be. She wouldprobably drive Mother out, or at least sell theokiyas’s collection of kimonos and retire. So MrsNitta will never adopt her. But she might adoptyou, Chiyo. She might adopt Pumpkin too, but Idon’t think Hatsumomo is worried about her.”“No. Pumpkin… She finds the geisha trainingdifficult.”“I know. But you’re not training at all, Chiyo.You can’t become a geisha if you don’t train.”I looked down and didn’t say anything.“You’re a beautiful girl, Chiyo. And you don’tlook to me like someone who wants to live herlife as a maid,” said Mameha.I said nothing. There was silence in the room fora moment. And then:“You tried to run away, didn’t you?.”With tears in my eyes, I told Mameha how I’dtried to escape along the rooftops.“I’m sure you’re an intelligent girl, Chiyo,” saidMameha. “But I don’t think that was a veryintelligent thing to do. People like you and me,who have water in our personalities, don’tchoose where we’ll flow to.”“Yes,” I said. “I’m like a river that’s stoppedflowing because Hatsumomo is in the way.”“Yes, that’s probably true,” said Mameha,looking at me calmly. “But rivers can wash awayanything in their path – in time.”From the moment I arrived in Mameha’sapartment, I wondered why she’d asked me tocome. But now my eyes opened. Mameha andHatsumomo obviously hated each other – thatwas clear from the kimono incident. But nowMameha knew there was a young girl at theokiya and saw a way of using me to getrevenge on Hatsumomo. Maybe not justrevenge; maybe she felt the time was right tobe rid of Hatsumomo completely.“Anyhow;” Mameha went on, “nothing willchange until Mrs Nitta lets you start training.”“I don’t have much hope of ever persuadingher.”“Then I will,” said Mameha.

Before I even had time to start feeling happy,Mameha was explaining her plan, beginning withthe system of “Older Sister” and “YoungerSister”, as it was in those days in Gion.

As I know now, there’s a ceremony like awedding when a geisha takes a young girl as herYounger Sister. Then the geisha introduces theYounger Sister to the owners of all theimportant teahouses, the ones that have thebest parties.The Older Sister takes her Younger Sister withher to entertain. Of course few men pay highohana fees to sit and talk to a fifteen year old,so the Older Sister and the owner of theteahouse talk to a man until he does.Eventually, the man who once needed so muchpersuading may become the Younger Sister’sdanna, when she’s old enough to become ageisha herself.Hatsumomo had in fact been an Older Sister,and a good one, to one or two younger geisha.But she wouldn’t be a good Older Sister to me, Iwas sure of that. Instead of taking me to theMizuki Teahouse and introducing me there,she would, I was sure, introduce me to theKamo River. And then push me in.

A few days after my visit to her apartment,Mameha went to see Mrs Nitta. To my surpriseMrs Nitta sent for me.“Now, Chiyo, you’ve been here in the okiya for ayear… ““Two years ma’am.”“In that time I’ve taken hardly any notice of you.And then today, along comes a geisha likeMameha to say she wants to be your OlderSister. How on earth am I to understandthis?.”

Much later when Iknew more aboutMameha, I couldunderstand justhow surprised MrsN i t t a w a s .Mameha, as I laterlearned, was oneof the two or threebest-known geishain Japan. Her OlderSister, Mametsuki,had the P r i m eM i n i s t e r o fJ a p a n as her

danna before World War I.But as I saw it then, Mameha was moreinterested in harming Hatsumomo than helpingme. That’s how Hatsumomo saw it too, whenMrs Nitta sent for her. Mameha, of course, hadasked for a fee to be my Older Sister but thatdidn’t fool Hatsumomo.

“Really, Mother… “ Hatsumomo said to MrsNitta. “Mameha doesn’t need Chiyo to makemoney. Do you think it’s an accident that she’schosen a girl who lives in the same okiya as Ido?. Mameha would probably be Older Sister to

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your little dog if she thought it would drive meout of Gion.”“Really, Hatsumomo,” said Mrs Nitta. “Whywould she want to drive you out of Gion?.”“Because I’m more beautiful. Does she need abetter reason?. She wants to humble me bytelling everyone – Oh please meet my newYounger Sister. She lives in the same okiya asHatsumomo, but they’ve given her to me fortraining instead.”“I can’t imagine Mameha behaving that way,”said Mrs Nitta quietly. “Hatsumomo, you, ofcourse, will be Pumpkin’s Older Sister,” sheadded.“Of course,” said Hatsumomo. She spoke toMameha for the first time, as Mameha lookedcalmly back at her. “If you yhink you can makeChiyo into a more successful geisha thanPumpkin, you can expect a big surprise.”Mameha ignored her. “Will you arrange forChiyo to start geisha training at school?,” shesaid to Mrs Nitta.“Of course,” said Mrs Nitta, bringing heraccount books. “I had no idea what a fine daythis would be.”

And it was a fine day for Mrs Nitta. Two famousgeisha were fighting each other to increase theincome of her two young girls. She needed toadopt one of the girls, so that the okiyacontinued when she died. She would choose theone who earned the most; all that girl’s earningswould go to the okiya.

Chapter 4 From Chiyo to Sayuri

Pumpkin had come to the Nitta okiya six monthsbefore I arrived. She was born in Sapporo. Hermother died when she was five and her fathersent her to Kyoto to live with an uncle. Then theuncle lost his business and he sent Pumpkin toMrs Nitta.Pumpkin was the kind of girl who could get fatquickly, if she had the chance. But they didn’tgive us much to eat at the okiya, just rice atmost meals, with soup once a day and a littledried fish twice a month. Sometimes in thenight I’d hear Pumpkin’s stomach making noisesfrom hunger.On our first walk to geisha school together, shesuddenly said, “Oh, Chiyo. Doesn’t it make youhungry?.”We were passing a small Shinto shrine. Insidethere were sweet-rice cakes on shelves, butPumpkin didn’t mean them. Outside thedoorway, just on the edge of the street, therewas a small piece of fish on the sidewalk. Youcould buy fish like that in the street; somebodyhad dropped the last piece. Two flies werewalking around in circles on it.“Pumpkin,” I said, “if you’re hungry, take asweet-rice cake from that shelf. Don’t eat thefish, the flies have got it.”

“I’m bigger than they are,” said Pumpkin, andshe bent down and picked up the fish.“Pumpkin,” I cried out. “Why don’t you eat thesidewalk?.”“OK,” she said, and she bent down and lickedthe sidewalk with her tongue.When Pumpkin got to her feet again, she clearlycouldn’t believe what she’d done. But she putthe dirty piece of fish in her mouth and chewedit all the way to the block where the school was.I now know that only some of that block wasthe school itself. Part of it was actually theKaburenjo Theatre – where the geisha ofGion perform Dances of the Old Capital everyspring.I followed Pumpkin into a long wooden buildingnext to the theatre; this was the school. Therewas a smell of roasted tea leaves which evennow makes my stomach turn over. Halfwaydown a hall was a big, traditional-style Japaneseclassroom. We put our names down for fourclasses that morning – shamisen, dance, teaceremony , and a kind of singing we callnagauta.Some people call a shamisen a Japanese guitar,but actually it’s a lot smaller than a guitar. It hasa thin wooden neck, and the entire instrumentcan be taken apart and put into a box or bag soyou can carry it about.Pumpkin tried to play shamisen before the classstarted, but even after more than two years, asI knew from listening to her practice, she wasn’tvery good at it. The room filled with girls whobegan practicing shamisen.Then the teacher came in. She was a tiny oldwoman with a high voice. Her name wasTeacher Mizumi and this is what we called herto her face. But her name, Mizumi, sounds likenezumi – mouse; so behind her back we calledher Teacher Mouse. Pumpkin led me to thefront of the room where we bowed to TeacherMouse.“May I introduce Chiyo to you, Teacher,”Pumpkin said, “and ask you to teach herbecause she’s a girl of very little talent.”Pumpkin wasn’t being rude; this was just theway people spoke back then, when they wantedto be polite. My own mother would have said itthe same way. Teacher Mouse looked at me andthen said, “You’re a smart girl. I can see it justfrom looking at you. Maybe you can help yoursister with her lessons.”Of course she was talking about Pumpkin.

The we went to our places and Teacher Mousecalled a girl to the front of the room. Afterbowing to the teacher, the girl began to play. Ina minute or two Teacher Mouse told her to stopand said all sorts of unpleasant things about herplaying; then she shut her fan and waved it atthe girl to send her to the back of the room.This continued for more than an hour, then itwas Pumpkin’s turn. I could see she wasnervous and she played badly, even for her.

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Nobody could tell what tune she was trying toplay.Teacher Mouse banged the table and told her tostop. She hit her fan on the table to givePumpkin the tune. She put Pumpkin’s fingers inthe right place on the shamisen – but nothinghelped. She sent Pumpkin away to the back ofthe class and Pumpkin walked slowly, with tearsin her eyes.I was pleased that Pumpkin’s other classesweren’t as painful to watch as the first one hadbeen. In the dance class, for example, thestudents practiced the moves together, with theresult that no one looked too bad. And Pumpkinwasn’t the worst dancer in the group. Thesinging class, later in the morning, was moredifficult for her because she couldn’t hear atune. But there again, the students practicedtogether, so Pumpkin was able to hide hermistakes by moving her mouth a lot and singingquietly.

After I had been going to these lesson for sometime, I started learning to play a small drum wecall tsutsumi. At parties at teahouses, geishasing with a shamisen only. But when theyperform at the theatre, for example in Dances ofthe Old Capital every spring, six or moreshamisen players play together with drums andother instruments. Geisha learn to play all theseinstruments.Most of the time, except for Teacher Mouse, theteachers played the tune first and then we alltried to play it back. And then the teacher wouldcall out from the front things like, “The girl atthe back, you must keep your finger down, notup in the air.”In all the lessons you were corrected if youspoke in anything except a Kyoto accent, or ifyou walked badly or sat or knelt badly.The last lesson every morning was teaceremony. Geisha are trained to prepare tea forguests in the traditional way and to pour thetea into beautiful cups. Even the guests musthold the cups in a special way, so it’s a little likea dance, danced while kneeling.All these skills needed practice, but of course, inthe afternoon I still had to clean the okiya,which Pumpkin didn’t.

In the beginning Pumpkin and I practicedshamisen together every afternoon. We hadgreat fun together; it was the time of day Ilooked forward to most.Then one afternoon, while Pumpkin wasteaching me a tune, Hatsumomo came into ourroom. We didn’t even know she was in theokiya.“Oh, look, it’s Mameha’s future Little Sister,” shesaid to me. “I thought you were stupid, LittleFish Girl, but Pumpkin here is even morestupid.”Poor Pumpkin put her shamisen down like a dogputting its tail between its legs. “Have I donesomething wrong?,” she asked.Hatsumomo pulled Pumpkin’s lip so hard shescreamed.“Now I know,” said Hatsumomo, still pulling thelip, “that they call you Pumpkin because yourhead really is full of pumpkin. Now put yourshamisen away and go to my room.”Pumpkin started to take her shamisen apart; herlip was bleeding. Hatsumomo turned to me.“You’ll have to find yourself another little friend,”she said. “After Pumpkin and I have had ourtalk, she won’t speak to you again. Will youPumpkin?.”Pumpkin nodded; she had no choice, but I couldsee how sorry she felt. We never practicedshamisen together again.

I told Mameha what had happened the nexttime I went to see her at her apartment.“If Pumpkin isn’t allowed to speak to you, thenyou mustn’t speak to her either,” said Mameha.“You’ll only get her into trouble, and she’ll haveto tell Hatsumomo what you say. You may havetrusted the poor girl in the past, but youmustn’t any longer.”I felt so sad at this. I blew on my tea andstarted to drink.“Really, Chiyo, you must stop blowing on yourtea in that way,” said Mameha. “You look like apeasant. Leave it on the table until it’s coolenough to drink.”“I’m sorrry,” I said. “I didn’t know I was doingit.”Mameha asked me to pour her a cup of tea. Thepot was empty but she asked me to do itanyway.“No,” said Mameha, when I’d poured aselegantly as I could. “You have a lovely arm,and beautiful skin. You should make sure everyman who sits near you see it at least once. Whydo you think the sleeves on kimonos are sobig?. It’s so that men can see our arms when wepour tea. Now do it again.”I imagined myself inside a teahouse, slidingopen the door of a tatami room. The menturned their heads to look at me, and I saw theChairman there among them. I smelled histalcum powder. In his smooth fingers he held ateacup. I poured the tea for him, showing himmy arm, and felt his eyes on me as I did it.

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“That’s better,” said Mameha.

Some people say that when a young girl hasfinished her training and she’s ready to becomea novice geisha, she’s like a bird that’s ready toleave the nest. I don’t agree at all. A bird onlyhas to grow big enough and then fly. I workedfor two hard years at shamisen, singing, teaceremony, and many other skills. I learned tospeak in a Kyoto accent and not to behave like apeasant. But, finally, one day, the time of theceremony to make me a novice geisha was atlast near.

The first step was to have my hair done the wayall novice geiha wore it. Gion had quite a lot ofhairdressers in those days; Mameha’s worked ina room above a fish restaurant. I had to spendnearly two hours waiting for my turn and I’msorry to say that the smell of dirty hair in therewas terrible. The hairstyles that geisha wore inthose days were so complicated and expensivethat nobody went to the hairdresser more thanonce a week.When my turn came at last, the hairdresser putme over a large sink in a position that made methink he wanted to cut my head off. Then hepoured a bucket of warm water over my hairand began to wash it by rubbing soap hardinto my head. I was almost in tears from thepain.“Cry if you have to,” said the hairdresser. “Whydo you think I put you over a sink?.”He thought that was a joke, but I didn’t think itwas funny. I was in there for two hours, but myproblems with my hair were just beginning. If anovice geisha goes to sleep on a pillow aftershe has had her hair done, it will spoil it and shewill have to go back to the hairdresser again thenext day.So novices sleep on a special pillow called atakamakura. You don’t put your hair or yourhead on this takamakura. You put your neck onit and then go to sleep without moving.

And then there is the kimono. In the beginning Icould hardly walk at all in the special kimonothat novices wore. I was worried that I mightfall over. Young girls wear a very long obi – thewide belt around the kimono. It’s longer thanthe obi older women wear. The obi is very heavyand so long that it will go from one end of aroom to the other. The kimono itself is also veryheavy, with long sleeves.And the colours on a novice’s kimono… Yearslater I met a famous scientist from KyotoUniversity. He’d been to Africa and seen all thebrightly coloured monkeys; the most colourfulanimals in the world. But he said that a novicegeisha from Gion in kimono was brighter thanany of them.

One sunny October afternoon I was wearing mynovice’s kimono and had my hair in novice style,

when Mameha and I left Mameha’s apartmentand walked along the Shirakawa. We werewatching the leaves of the cherry trees floatdown to the water. Many people were outwalking there and all of them bowed toMameha. In many cases they also bowed to me.I wondered if the Chairman would think I lookedbeautiful. I found myself looking out for him inthe street, as I often did.“After two years of training you’re gettingrather well-known, don’t you think?”, saidMameha. “People are always asking me aboutthe girl with the lovely gray eyes. You won’t becalled Chiyo much longer.”“Does Mameha mean to say… ““You’re going to make a fine geisha,” saidMameha, “but you’ll make an even better one ifyou think about what you are saying with youreyes.”“I didn’t know I was saying anything with them,”I said.“A woman can say more with her eyes than withany other part of her body,” said Mameha,“especially in your case. So I think we can saythat you are ready to start as a geisha as soonas you can make a man faint with your eyes.”“Mameha,” I said. “If I could do that, I’m sure Iwould know about it by now.”But I wanted to be a geisha so much that Iwould have tried to make a tree faint if Mamehahad told me to. The first man we saw was soold, though, that he looked like a kimono full ofbones. He didn’t notice me at all, so we turnedinto Shijo Avenue.There was a delivery boy carrying some lunchboxes.“Make him drop his boxes,” said Mameha, andshe crossed the street and disappeared.I didn’t think it was possible for a girl of sixteento make a young man drop something just bylooking at him; maybe these things happened inmovies and books. But I noticed that the youngman was already looking at me the way ahungry cat looks at a mouse. And I also noticedthat although most of the streets in Gion didn’thace a curb, this one did.I looked up at him, smiled, then looked downagain. After a few more steps I did the samething again. When we were close, I moved intohis path and looked him right in the eye. Hetried to move out of my way, but his feet hit thecurb and he went down. Well, I couldn’t helplaughing. And I’m happy to say the young manbegan to laugh too. I helped him pick up hisboxes, gave him a little smile before he bowedto me more deeply than any man had everbowed before, and then he went on his way.

The ceremony took place at the Ichir ikiTeahouse, which is certainly the best-knownteahouse in all of Japan. You can’t see mostteahouses from the street, but the Ichiriki, onShijo Avenue, is as obvious as a palace – whichis what it looked like to me.

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Two of Mameha’s Younger Sisters and Mrs Nittacame to the ceremony, which lasted about tenminutes. Mameha and I drank sake together. Idrank three times and then passed her the cupand she drank three times. We did this withthree different cups and then it finished.From that moment, I was no longer known asChiyo. I was the novice geisha Sayuri.

Chapter 5 The Novice Geisha

The 1930s wasthe time of theDepression, sothere were fewerformal parties forme to go to thanMameha wouldhave liked. Butwe went to smallparties and noton ly at theteahouses. Wew e n t t oswimming partieson the river, wew e n t t o

sightseeing parties and kabuki plays.At some of the parties there were writers andkabuki actors. But I’m sorry to say that the usualgeisha party was more boring. The party wasoften given by a small company for anothersmall company they did business with. Theconversation usually wasn’t very intelligent. Aman might turn to the geisha beside him andsay, “The weather certainly is unusually warm,don’t you think?.” And the geisha would replywith something like, “Oh, yes, very warm.”After the conversation there would usually be adrinking game, or the geisha would try to get allthe men singing. Sometimes the geisha playedchildren’s games with the businessmen, tokeep them happy.

The formal parties were the worst. There wasone at Kansai International Hotel. Guests satshoulder to shoulder in a U-shape around theoutside of a big room with tatami mats on thefloor. The geisha had to move inside the U-shape, kneeling in front of each guest longenough to pour sake and chat. It wasn’t exactlyexciting, and it was even less exciting for anovice like me than for Mameha. WheneverMameha introduced herself to a guest I did thesame, bowing very low and saying, “My name isSayuri; I’m a novice.” After that I said nothingand no one said anything to me.Because I was a novice, I was not supposed todrink sake – novices should seem childlike. Butsometimes the men poured a drink and mademe drink it. On those occasions Mameha alwaysrescued me, saying, “It’s your first day in Gion,Sayuri. You can’t get drunk. Just wet your lips.”

And I would “drink” the sake with my lipsclosed.

It was just after one of these occasions – Iremember the man who wanted me to drinksake had very bad skin, that Hatsumomo andPumpkin first started following us. We were atthe Komoriya Teahouse. I’d just dried my lipsfrom the sake when I saw Hatsumomo smilingat me from the other side of the table. Mamehasaw the fear in my face and we left.That victory for Hatsumomo was quicklyfollowed by many others. We went to a party atKyoto University. Hatsumomo and Pumpkinappeared ten minutes after we’d arrived.“Really, I don’t think there’s anything moredifficult than being a novice,” Hatsumomo saidto the man who was talking to me. “Don’t youthink so, Sayuri?.”Hatsumomo had two reasons for making this“innocent” remark. First, the man I was talkingto forgot all about me and had eyes only forHatsumomo. Secondly, it was meant to remindus that Pumpkin was no longer a novice. She’dmoved to the next stage in becoming a geishaapprentice; she was going to a lot of parties,and she was earning a lot more in ohana feesthan me.I couldn’t think of a smart reply to Hatsumomo,but luckily Mameha spoke for me:“You’re certainly right about the novice timebeing a difficult time of life for you, Hatsumomo.Though, of course, you were more awkwardthan most.”Hatsumomo just smiled. Men don’t come toparties to listen to geisha arguing, so, again,we left the party.

Mameha began to take me to parties that shethought Hatsumomo wouldn’t know about, butHatsumomo and Pumpkin always appeared justa few minutes after we arrived.I knew that Mameha was also worried thatHatsumomo was telling stories, lies, about me.It seems that she’d driven rivals out of Gionbefore by doing this.Things were bad but they soon got worse.Mameha and I had just made ourselves lookrude by leaving a party shortly after we arrived,to get away from Hatsumomo amd Pumpkin,when Mameha pulled me into an empty roomand held me by the wrist.“Did you tell that terrible woman where wewould be tonight?,” she asked.“No, Mameha. I didn’t know myself where wewere going until I got to your apartment.”“Yes… Yes, of course. Then how does she…?. Isit my maid?. But no Asami wouldn’t… Come on.”“Where are we going?.”“Naga Teruomi just arrived in town fromTokyo. Do you know him?. He’s one of Tokyo’sbest young musicians. Anyway, he’s giving avery small party this evening. We’ll be safe

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there; hardly anybody knows he’s even inKyoto.”

The party was at a very small teahouse near theGion shrine, in east Gion. Ten minutes after wearrived, Hatsumomo and Pumpkin came in.Hatsumomo quickly got everybody’s attentionand continued her conversation from the lastparty.“I was just saying how difficult it is to be anovice,” Hatsumomo told the entire party;everybody was listening to her. “I’ll tell you astory about a novice… Oh no, I can’t – there’sone here, at this party.”This, of course, was me.“I want to hear this story,” said one of the men,just as Hatsumomo knew he would.“Oh very well. But I’ll tell it to you only if youpromise that you won’t think of this poor girlhere as you listen. Picture some other girl inyour mind.”Hatsumomo really was a devil. The men mightnot have pictured the story happening to meearlier, but they certainly would know.

“Let me see, where was I?,” Hatsumomo began.“Oh yes. Well, this novice I mentioned… I can’tremember her name, but I ought to give herone or you would confuse her with this girl here.Tell me, little novice… what’s your name?.”“Sayuri, ma’am,” I said, my face hot withnervousness. Everybody at the party looked atme and then looked back to Hatsumomo.“Sayuri. How lovely. Somehow it doesn’t suityou. Well, lets’ call this novice in the storyMayuri. Oh yes, I remember now, Mayuri hadfunny-coloured eyes. Some people thought theywere the colour of dead worms.”I glanced at Mameha, but I could see there wasnothing she could do. Hatsumomo, smiling,continued:“Anyway, this novice became an apprentice andthen a geisha very quickly, and one day it wastime for her mizuage.”Some of the men at the party, drunk on sake,laughed at this. A geisha’s mizuage was takenthe first time she spent a night with a man.Some men paid a high fee to be the first with ageisha.Hatsumomo looked lovelier than ever as shecontinued her devilish story: “Well, after themizuage, and this is the first time this has everhappened in Gion, the man who had thoughthimself so lucky at first, asked for his moneyback. Do you know why?.”There was a roar of laughter. Of course thedrunken men had several suggestions, someruder than others. Some of them glanced at meas they spoke.Hatsumomo was laughing too. “No, really, this isserious. It seems that her whole body…” Andhere Hatsumomo waved her delicate hands toshow the line of my body. “Her whole body…was the body of an old woman. Her face was

still sixteen or seventeen but underneath,below the neck, well her…”

Hatsumomo was not looking at me directly asshe began to describe my body as that of an oldwoman. Mameha led me from the room, withoutstopping to say goobye to Naga Teruomi.Mameha and I went down the steps of theteahouse. On the bottom step she stopped andwaited. At last a young maid came to see us out– the same maid who had shown us up thestairs earlier.“What a difficult life you must have as a maid,”Mameha said to her. “Probably you want somany things and have so little money to spend.Tell me, what will you do with the money youhave just earned?.”“I haven’t earned any money, ma’am,” she said,but I could see she was lying.“How much money did Hatsumomo promiseyou?.”The maid looked at the floor. It wasn’t until thismoment that I understood what Mameha wasthinking. As we learned some time afterward,Hatsumomo had paid at least one maid in everyfirst-class teahouse in Gion to telephone theNitta okiya as soon as they saw Mameha andme.Out in the street Mameha said, “I’m trying tothink where we can go, but… I can’t think of asingle place. If that woman has found us here,she can find us anywhere in Gion. I think youshould go back to your okiya, Sayuri, and staythere until I can think of a plan.”I ought to have been attending formal partiesevery night, and ten or fifteen informal partiestoo, but instead I stayed in the okiya practicingshamisen and dance. My income from partyfees was now zero.

In the next few days I went to Mameha’sapartment several times, each time hoping thatshe had thought of a plan, but she hadn’t.“I’m sorry, but you must stay in the okiya for alittle longer,” she said. “I’m more determinedthan ever to destroy that evil woman, but untilI’ve thought of a plan it will do you no good atall to follow me around Gion.”Of course I was disappointed to hear it, butMameha was quite right. Another evening likeNaga Teuromi’s party would do me more harmthan good as geisha.Happily, Mameha could still take me with her toentertain outside Gion, where Hatsumomocouldn’t pay maids to tell her where we were. Iwent to Kobe when Mameha opened a newfactory. Another time I went with Mameha andthe president of the Nippon Telephone Companyon a tour of Kyoto in a luxury car. This was thefirst time I saw how poor some people were inthe Depression. We drove along the river, southof the city, and I saw dirty women feeding theirbabies under the trees and men with no shoesand no hope drinking next to them. I realized

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that even with Hatsumomo and her cruelty tome, I had a relatively fortunate life during theDepression.

O n e d a yMameha and Iwere walkingacross Shi joAvenue Bridgewhen it wasclear to mefrom her facethat somethingwas wrong.“What is itMameha?,” Iasked.

“Well, I’ll tell you because you’ll only hear itfrom someone else,” she said. “Your little friendPumpkin has won the apprentice’s prize thisyear. She earned more money from ohana thanany other apprentice geisha in Gion.”“But… but how?,” I said.Mameha sighed. “In Gion,” she began, “a verypopular geisha can always make sure herYounger Sister earns more than anyone else ifshe doesn’t mind damaging her ownreputation.”Mameha explained that apprentices like Pumpkinwere expected to attend about five parties anevening and build relationships. Instead of this,Hatsumomo was taking Pumpkin with hereverywhere, to as many as twenty parties anight. The men were paying two lots of ohanacharges for a geisha and an apprentice whowere spending very little time at the party. Inthe end both Hatsumomo’s and Pumpkin’sreputations would suffer. But before thatHatsumomo would have got what she wanted.“Hatsumomo wants Pumpkin to look good soMrs Nitta will adopt her,” Mameha finished up.“If Pumpkin is made daughter of the okiya,Hatsumomo is safe. As Pumpkin’s Older Sister,Mrs Nitta won’t throw her out. Do youunderstand what I am saying, Sayuri?. IfPumpkin is adopted, you’ll never be free ofHatsumomo, and it’s possible that you’ll be theone they throw out.”A few days after our conversation, Pumpkin toldme that Mrs Nitta was going to adopt her. It wasdefinite.

Chapter 6 Nobu Toshikazu

“We still have a few weeks before Mrs Nittaadopts Pumpkin,” said Mameha. “We are goingto have to take action, and quickly.”I nodded unhappily, not knowing what actionwe could take; but it seemed that at lastMameha had a plan.“Do you know about mizuage?,” Mamehaasked me.The question reminded me of Hatsumomo’sterrible story, so I looked down and saidnothing.

Mameha looked at me kindly. “The word mizumeans “water” and age means “raise up”.”Mameha then told me what happens when aman spends the night with a woman. She saidthat some men would pay a lot to be the firstone to spend the night with a geisha – themizuage night. Mameha planned to introduceme to two men who she hoped would bidagainst each other for my mizuage.“And then one of them would become myd a n n a ?,” I asked. I can’t say I felt veryenthusiastic about that. When I thought aboutthings like that, I always thought about theChairman. I thought about him all the timeanyway.“Not necessarily,” said Mameha. “For some menthe mizuage is enough. Other men will be ageisha’s danna only after her mizuage.”“So the Baron…,” I said, but then I stoppedbecause of the look on Mameha’s face.

Baron Matsunaga Tsuneyoshi was Mameha’sdanna. He paid for Mameha’s lovely apartment,where we were having this conversation. BeforeWorld War II there were quite a few barons inJapan but Matsunaga Tsuneyoshi was one of therichest of them. He lived in Tokyo, where hisfamily controlled one of Japan’s large banks, buthe owned a lot of land around Kyoto. He visitedMameha whenever he was in the area and hewas the danna of another geisha in Tokyo too.“No, the Baron didn’t take my mizuage,”Mameha said, in a way that made it clear thatthe subject was closed.“It’s strange that Hatsumomo hasn’t got adanna,” I said to change the subject.Mameha smiled, pleased to change the subjectand pleased with my growing skill atconversation, which of course is an importantskill for a geisha.“She had a danna at one time,” said Mameha.“And of course she has a lot of admirers. Butsomehow she angered the mistress of theMizuki, her main teahouse, so the mistressalways told men that Hatsumomo wasn’tavailable. The men probably thought that shealready had a danna.”

Then I remembered the evening years agowhen a man visited the okiya late at night andspent the night with Hatsumomo. In themorning, Pumpkin and I heard Hatsumomocrying because the man said he was going backto his wife and didn’t want to visit her anymore.Pumpkin said he was a cook at one of therestaurants in Gion. She also told me that if MrsNitta ever found out that Hatsumomo broughtmen back to the okiya, the situation would beserious, even for a geisha as great asHatsumomo.

“What are you thinking about, Sayuri?,” askedMameha.“Nothing, Mameha,” I replied.

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Mameha smiled. “You are growing up, Sayuri,”she said.

Mameha was still attending a morningengagement when I arrived at her apartment.Her maid showed me into the dressing room tohelp me with my make-up, and afterwardbrought in the kimono that Mameha had chosenfor me. Mameha had let me wear her kimonosbefore, but in fact it’s unusual for a geisha tolend her kimonos to a Younger Sister. Mamehawas showing great kindness to me.I didn’t realize it at the time, but the beautifulkimono that was laid out on the futon for mewas well-known in Gion; people who saw itprobably thought of Mameha at once. When sheallowed me to wear it, she was transferringsome of her magic as a geisha to me.It was the loveliest kimono I’d ever worn –orange silk with a silver waterfall pouringfrom the knee into a deep blue ocean. The obiwas brown with gold in it. When Mr Itchoda,Mameha’s dresser, had tied the obi, I put theChairman’s handkerchief in it. I’d brought it fromthe okiya. I always put it in the sleeve when Iwore a kimono. Then I looked at myself in themirror and my mouth fell open in amazementat how I looked.It was amazing to me that Mameha hadarranged for me to look so beautiful; but thenwhen she returned to her apartment, she herselfchanged into a fairly plain kimono. She had thequiet beauty of a pearl, as she always did, butwhen we walked down the street together, thewomen who bowed at Mameha were looking atme.From the Gion Shrine, we rode north in arickshaw for half an hour, into an area of KyotoI’d never seen. Along the way Mameha told mewe’d be attending a sumo wrestling exhibitionas the guests of Iwamura Ken, who hadstarted Iwamura Electric in Osaka. Iwamura’sright-hand man, Nobu Toshikazu, President ofIwamura Electric, would also be there. Nobuwas quite a fan of sumo. He was also one of themen Mameha hoped would bid for my mizuage.“I should tell you,” Mameha said, “that Nobulooks a little… strange. If you behave well, youwill impress him greatly.”Mameha gave me a look; she would bedisappointed in me if I didn’t. But at least wewouldn’t have to worry about Hatsumomo,

Mameha told me, maybe to change the subject.Tickets to the exhibition had been sold outweeks before.At last we climbed out of the rickshaw at thecampus of Kyoto University. Mameha led me upa small path, with western-style buildings onboth sides of us. The windows were made intotiny glass squares by sticks of painted wood. Ihadn’t noticed how much Gion seemed likehome to me, until I noticed myself feeling out ofplace at the University.Smooth-skinned young men stopped to watchas Mameha and I walked past, and then theytalked and joked with each other about us. Tothem we were creatures from another world.

The Exhibition Hall was huge, filled with thenoise of the people and with smoke fromroasted sweet-rice cakes. In the center was asquare where the wrestlers would try to pusheach other out of the wrestling area to win thecontest.Our places were on tatami mats on the front.Our hosts were there and I saw a man wavinghis hand to Mameha; I knew at once that hewas Nobu. Even from a distance the skin of hisface looked like a melted candle. At some timein his life he must have suffered terrible burns.Much later I found out that when he was ayoung soldier in the Japanese army, he hadbeen injured in the bombing outside Seoul in1910, at the time when Japan took Korea. Hehad been in pain ever since.Next to Nobu, kneeling on the same tatami matat the front, wearing a man’s striped kimono,was the Chairman. The Chairman was looking atme with apparent curiosity. The blood camerushing into my face, making my feet go cold.“Chairman Iwamura… President Nobu,” Mamehasaid, “this is my new Younger Sister, theapprentice Sayuri.”By now I was an apprentice, like Pumpkin. Andeven a sixteen-year old apprentice had heard ofIwamura Ken. But I never imagined for amoment that Iwamura Ken was the man I’d metby the Shirakawa Stream. This was the man Istill dreamed about every night; the man whosehandkerchief was in my obi at that verymoment.

I picked up a small teapot and held the sleeve ofmy kimono out of the way to pour. To myastonishment and joy, the Chairman’s eyesmoved to my arm. And then suddenly Mamehastopped talking. For a moment I didn’t realizewhat the problem was. And then I noticed theteapot again. In my happiness that theChairman was watching me, I hadn’t noticedthat it was empty. It had been empty evenwhen I’d picked it up.Mameha laughed. “You can see what adetermined girl she is, Chairman,” she said. “Ifthere had been a single drop of tea in thatteapot, Sayuri would have poured it out.”

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“That certainly is a beautiful kimono yourYounger Sister is wearing, Mameha,” theChairman said. “Do I remember seeing it onyou, back during your days as an apprentice?.”“It’s possible, I suppose,” Mameha replied. “Butthe Chairman has seen me in so many differentkimonos over the years, I can’t imagine heremembers them all.”A long look passed between the Chairman andMameha. Then the Chairman said, “Well, I’m nodifferent from any other man. I never forgetbeauty. But I can never remember which sumowrestler is which. They all look the same to me.”Mameha leaned across in front of the Chairmanand whispered to me, “What the Chairman isreally saying is that he doesn’t like sumo.”“Now, Mameha,” said the Chairman, “if you’retrying to get me introuble with Nobu…”“Chairman, Nobu has known for years how youfeel.”The Chairman smiled and then spoke to me.“Sayuri, is this your first time at sumo?.”

I’d been waiting for some excuse to speak withhim, but before I’d ever taken a breath toanswer, several wrestlers came into theExhibition Hall. Our heads turned and theaudience went silent. Nobu had his head turnedaway from me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off theterrible burns on the side of his face and neckand at his ear, half of which was not there at all.Then I saw that the sleeve of his jacket wasempty. I hadn’t noticed that earlier. Nobu hadonly one arm.I turned back to the Chairman. As an apprenticegeisha I was free to sit as quietly as anarrangement of flowers if I wanted to, but I wasdetermined not to let this opportunity pass.“The Chairman asked if this is my first time atsumo,” I said. “It is, and I would be grateful ifthe Chairman could explain it to me.”“If you want to know what’s happening,” saidNobu, “you’d better talk to me. What’s yourname, apprentice?. I didn’t hear what Mamehasaid.”I turned away from the Chairman with as muchdifficulty as a hungry child turns away from aplate of food.“My name is Sayuri, sir,” I said.“Sayuri is a very pretty name – though prettynames and pretty girls don’t always gotogether.”I wondered if his next remark was going to be,“What an ugly Younger Sister you’ve taken on,Mameha,” or something like that, but to myrelief he said, “Here’s a case where the nameand the girl go together. You have especiallybeautiful eyes. Turn toward me, Sayuri, so I canhave another look at them.”I looked at him, as well as I could; then I wasrescued by two wrestlers going into the square.“The first wrestler who is pushed out of thatsquare is the loser,” said Nobu. “It might look

easy, but would you like to push a huge manlike that out of a square?.”“I suppose I could come up behind him andshout, so he jumped out,” I suggested.This was a mistake. “Be serious,” Nobu said.I know it wasn’t a very smart thing to say, butthis was my first attempt at joking with a man.Then the Chairman leaned toward me.“Nobu doesn’t joke about sumo,” he said quietly.“I don’t joke about the three things that mattermost in life,” Nobu said. “Sumo, business andwar.”

The announcer said the winning wrestler’s prizewould be a great deal of money given by NobuToshikazo. Nobu was annoyed and said to theChairman, “The money isn’t from me. It’s fromIwamura Electric. I’m sorry, Chairman. The manis a fool.”“There’s no mistake, Nobu. After everything youhave done for me and the company, it’s a smallthing to do.”“The Chairman is too kind,” said Nobu. “I amvery grateful.”

Later I found a magazine article about theChairman’s company. I discovered that IwamuraElectric nearly went bankrupt in the early1920s. Nobu found some new investors andsaved the company. “I owe Nobu everything,”said the Chairman, in the article. He said thatNobu was more like a brother than a businesspartner.

The announcer welcomed us all and said thewrestlers were yokozuna – that’s the highestrank in wrestling. “Just like Mameha’s positionin Gion,” as Nobu explained to me. But ifMameha spent as long getting ready before shedid anything as these two elephants did, shewould never get another party invitation. Thewrestlers spent five minutes throwing salt allover the square and staring at each other, thenone pushed the other out and it was finished.The audience clapped and shouted, but Nobusaid, “That wasn’t very good.”Two more wrestlers went into the square. I feltthat one ear was connected to my mind and theother to my heart. On one side I listened towhat Nobu told me – and much of it wasinteresting. But I was always listening to theChairman’s voice on the other side, as he talkedwith Mameha. I loved the sound of him.The last fight was between a star wrestler calledMiyagiyama, who was not quite as enormousas the others, and an especially huge man calledSaiho.“H a t a k i - k o m i ,” said Nobu, excitedly.“Miyagiyama will use hataki-komi, you waitand see.”And he did. The larger Saiho rushed atMiyagiyama and the smaller man used hataki-komi, which means he used the energy of thebigger man’s attack against him. He moved out

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of the way when Saiho ran at him and broughthis hand down on the man’s neck as he ranpast, so the rush of Saiho’s own attack took himout of the square.Later, on our way back to Gion, Mameha turnedto me excitedly in the rickshaw.“We’re going to use hataki-komi againstHatsumomo,” she laughed. “She thinks her rusharound the teahouses has earned more moneyfor Pumpkin than I have for you, but we will seeher running out of Gion like Saiho ran out of thesquare. Just keep Nobu interested in you.Everything depends on him and one other man.One of them will be your rescuer.”I felt sick inside at the thought of this. I wantedmy rescuer to be the Chairman.

Chapter 7 Dr. Crab

Two weeks passed, and then one day I receiveda note to come to Mameha’s apartment thefollowing afternoon. By now I was used tobeautiful kimonos waiting for me on the futon,so I wasn’t surprised at the lovely medium-weight bright red and yellow silk kimono, whichshowed leaves in a field of golden grass. But Iwas surprised to find a tear in the back of it,large enough to put two fingers through.“Asami,” I said to Mameha’s maid, “the mostupsetting thing… this kimono is ruined.”Of course I’d told Mameha long ago about thepart Hatsumomo made me play when herkimono was ruined with ink, all those years ago.But I certainly didn’t want her to think I’d ruinedanother kimono.“No, Miss,” said Asami. “Mameha borrowed itfrom an okiya down the street. She knows it’storn. The underskirt is torn in the same place.I’d already put the underskirt on. I reacheddown and felt my thigh through the hole. Asamiwas right.“Mameha was very clear that she wanted you toput it on,” added Asami.This made very little sense to me, but I did asAsami said. When at last Mameha rushed in, Iasked her about it while she re-did her makeup.“I told you that my plan is to have two menbidding for your mizuage,” said Mameha. “Youmet Nobu two weeks ago. The other man hasbeen out of town until now, but with the help ofthis torn kimono, you’re going to meet himnow.”

The mention of Nobu’s name made medepressed again because a man will never havea relationship with a geisha if a close friend hasbeen with her for the night. Meeting theChairman seemed only to have put him furtheraway from me. Mameha’s next words made meeven more depressed.“Sayuri, we’re just going to put a little cut inyour skin. Just a little one, so you can go to the

hospital and meet a certain doctor. You knowthe man I mentioned to you?. He’s a doctor.”“Can’t I just say I have a stomachache?.”I meant this seriously but Mameha and Asamicouldn’t stop laughing.“Sayuri, we only need to make you bleed just alittle, just enough so the Doctor will be willing tolook at you,” smiled Mameha.Asami brought a knife from the kitchen and I layon the futon with a cloth under me and my eyesclosed. I bit my lip as soon as I felt the tip ofthe knife. A little river of blood ran down my leg.“Good girl,” said Mameha. “When you are askedhow you cut your leg, this is your answer. Youwere trying to go to the bathroom in yourkimono, and you fell onto something sharp. Youdon’t know what it was because you fainted.Make up all the details you want; just be surethat you sound very childlish. And act helplessat the hospital. Let me see you do it.”I lay my head back on the futon and let my eyesroll up. Mameha wasn’t at all pleased.“I didn’t say act dead. I said act helpless.”

I practiced on the way to the hospital, whileMameha pulled at my kimono to make sure I stilllooked attractive. At the hospital Mameha gaveme one final instruction.“Remember, Sayuri, we want the Doctor to seeyou looking as innocent and as helpless aspossible. Lie back and look weak.”My leg hurt, so I had no difficulty at all with this.A nurse showed us down a long hall to a dustyroom with a wooden table. A moment later thedoor opened and in came Dr Crab.Of course, his name wasn’t really Dr Crab, butthe reason for the name was obvious enough.He walked bent forward with his elbows out,in a way that made him look just like a crab.He was obviously a very thorough man. Hespent a couple of minutes closing the door,making sure he’d done a good job and that itwouldn’t open again. After this he took a smallcase from his pocket and carefully took out apair of glasses. He looked at me and gave a littlenod and finally he looked at Mameha. He waspleased to see Mameha; his moustache moveda little.“I’m so sorry to trouble you, Doctor,” saidMameha. “But Sayuri has such a bright futureand now she has cut her leg. I thought youwere the only person to help her.”“Exactly,” said Dr Crab. “Now, could I have alook at the cut?.”“I’m afraid Sayuri gets weak at the sight ofblood, Doctor,” said Mameha. “It might be bestif she turned away and let you look at the cut.It’s on the back of her thigh.”“I understand perfectly. Could you please askher to lie on her stomach on the examiningtable?.”I couldn’t understand why Dr Crab didn’t ask mehimself, but to seem obedient I waited until I’dheard the words from Mameha. Then the doctor

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lifted my kimono as high as he could and putsome smelly liquid on the cut with a cloth.“Sayuri,” said Dr Crab, “please, tell me how youcut yourself?.”I began to tell Dr Crab the story I’d agreed withMameha. Finally Dr Crab finished with the smellyliquid and told me how to look after the cut forthe next few days. Then he put my kimonodown again and put away his glasses.“I’m sorry you have ruined such a fine kimono,”he said. “But I’m certainly happy at the chanceto have met you. Mameha knows I’m alwaysinterested in new faces.”“I’m very pleased to have met you, too,” I said.“I may see you one evening quite soon at theShrirae Teahouse,” he said. “Let me see. I’llbe there…”. Then he put his glasses back onagain so he could look at a little book he tookout of his pocket. “Yes, I’ll be there twoevenings from now. I do hope to see you.”Mameha assured him we’d be there. In therickshaw on our way back to Gion she told meI’d done very well.

Later that week I was invited to the IchirikiTeahouse by Iwamura Electric and then I wasinvited again without Mameha. Mameha told menot to stay too long, so it would look like I hadplenty of other parties to go to. So, after anhour I bowed and said goodbye, as though Iwere on my way to another party. For somereason, Hatsumomo didn’t appear.

Then Iwamura Electric gave a party that was thesmallest party I’d attended in Gion, with onlytwo other geisha and four men, including theChairman and Nobu. This time, Hatsumomoappeared. Her lovely smile grew as soon asNobu entered the room.Hatsumomo had missed my first meeting withNobu at the wrestling, as there had been nomaid there to let her know we were there. Butshe knew all about my “romantic relationship,”as she called it, with Nobu, who she called TheFried Man. This was a cruel reference to hisface.So I decided to show her the romanticrelationship she’d come to see. I began bytouching my neck and my hair all the time, as ifI was worried about the way I looked. Then Ileaned toward Nobu. I touched the flowers Iwore in my hair until they fell into his lap. Theflowers fell onto the tatami mat between hiscrossed legs. I’d planned to get the flowers outfrom his lap, with girlish laughter, but I didn’thave the confidence to do it.Nobu picked the flowers himself and turnedthem in his hand, instead of giving them back.“Get the young maid who greeted me,” he saidto me. “Tell her I want the package I brought.”I did as Nobu asked and returned to the room.Everyone was waiting and watching me. Nobuwas still holding my flowers and didn’t take thepackage from me. “I was going to give it to you

later, on your way out,” he said to me. “But Ithink I should give it to you now.”He nodded toward the package in a way thatsuggested I should open it. I felt veryembarrassed, but I opened the package andfound a fabulous gold comb to be worn in thehair, in the shape of a half-circle.“It’s an antique I found a few days ago,” Nobusaid.

The Chairman moved his lips but seemed tohave trouble speaking. Eventually he said, “Well,Nobu. I have never known you do such a thingbefore.” His face was pale and he lookedshocked.Hatsumomo stood and walked toward me. Sheknelt near me, took the gold comb and put it inmy hair as gently as a mother with a baby.“Isn’t she the loveliest creature,” she said toNobu, nodding at me. Then she gave a deepsigh and soon afterward she left the party.I was still an apprentice at that time, not ageisha, but for the first time in my life I felt likea geisha. Hatsumomo had not found a way tohurt me at the party; I’d beaten her, using mygeisha skills. Of course, Hatsumomo still madetrouble for me at parties when she could, andsometimes she won and I lost. But my ohanafees began to increase. I was in demand atparties, and I was becoming well-known.

When an apprentice geisha becomes availablefor mizuage, she gives boxes of ekubo to themen she knows. These ekubo are sweet-ricecakes and most geiha give them to at least adozen men, maybe more. But I would give themonly to Nobu and the Doctor – if we were lucky.

Dr Crab hadn’t appeared at the ShiraeTeahouse, as we’d arranged with him at thehospital. I managed to find Pumpkin alone,when she went out to buy sake forHatsumomo, and on a bench by the ShirakawaStream I finally managed to persuade her to tellme what had happened.“Pumpkin, please listen to me,” I said. “Iwouldn’t ask this of you if there was any otherway. But I don’t want to go back to being amaid and that is what will happen if Hatsumomo

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has her way. Either that or I will have to leavethe okiya. Pumpkin, please.”Suddenly tears ran down Pumpkin’s big cheeks,as if they’d been waiting to fall for years.“Oh, I’m so unhappy, Chiyo,” she said. She stillcalled me Chiyo and I still called her Pumpkin,like everybody else did.“Pumpkin, just tell me, how did Hatsumomostop Dr Crab coming to the Shirae Teahouse?.”“Oh that,” said Pumpkin. “That was easy. Themaid at the teahouse told us you and Mamehawere on the guest list for a party there.Hatsumomo knew at once. Very few importantpeople go to the Shirae. Crab only goes therebecause he knows it from his student days,before he made all his money. Hatsumomothought of him at once. And besides, he isknown in Gion as a “mizuage specialist.” Assoon as Hatsumomo thought of him, she knewwhat Mameha was planning.”“But why didn’t he come?.”“Well, you know Hatsumomo. She can makeanyone believe anything. She told the Doctorthat you have a boyfriend who spends the nightwith you in the okiya. Hatsumomo describedhim; he’s a cook in a restaurant around thecorner. She said she knows about it but MrsNitta doesn’t and Mrs Nitta would throw you outof the okiya if she ever found out.”I could just imagine how much Hatsumomomust have enjoyed her little story, telling DrCrab that her own lover had come to see me. Iasked Pumpkin if there was anything more, butshe said no.I thanked her many times for helping me, andtold her how sorry I was that she’d had to spendthese last years as a slave to Hatsumomo.Pumpkin put her head on my shoulder and cried.

Mameha went around all the teahouses in Gion,asking people to tell her if Dr Crab appeared.After a few nights, word came that he was at ateahouse named the Yashino. I rushed toMameha’s apartment to change into a kimonoand then we left for the Yashino with a box ofekubo.The Yashino was a new teahouse, built in thewestern style. Instead of tatami mats on thefloor, the room we were shown into hadarmchairs and a sofa. I didn’t feel comfortablein the chairs but Mameha told me not to kneelon the floor. She sounded angry. Then she wentoff to find Dr Crab.Dr Crab didn’t look at all happy when Mamehabrought him into the room. “I prefer to get backto my party,” he said when he saw me. “Pleaseexcuse me.”“Sayuri has brought something for you, Doctor,”Mameha told him. “Just for a moment, if youplease.”After that I think Mameha forgot about using thechairs because when Dr Crab sat down, we bothknelt down in front of him.

“Please accept these ekubo, Doctor,” I said,offering him rice cakes.“Why are you giving me these?.”“I’m so sorry, Doctor,” said Mameha. “I toldSayuri that you would enjoy receiving ekubofrom her. I hope I’m not mistaken.”“You are mistaken. Maybe you don’t know thisgirl as well as you think. I have an excellentopinion of you, Mameha, but I think less of youfor introducing this girl to me. I suggest you askher about the boy who works at a restaurantnear her okiya.”I was pleased he’d mentioned this himself;Mameha and I had feared he might not.“So that’s the problem,” Mameha said to him.“You must have talked with Hatsumomo. Shehas been spreading this story all over Gion. It’scompletely untrue.”“Why would Hatsumomo do that?.”“Ever since Sayuri was given an important partin Dances of the Old Capital, Hatsumomo hasbeen telling these stories. It seems she wantedthe part for her own Younger Sister, a ratherlarge girl called Pumpkin.”The doctor looked at me for the first time. I didmy best to look like a star dancer who has hadlies told about her.“I don’t like to say this, Doctor,” Mamehacontinued, “but Hatsumomo is a known liar.You can’t believe anything she says.”“It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”“Well,” said Mameha, “either I’m lying to younow or Hatsumomo was lying to you before. Youhave to decide which of us you know better,Doctor.”When the Doctor left, walking his crab-like walk,he took the ekubo with himOne afternoon, a few days later, Mameha cameto the okiya and took me into Mrs Nitta’s roomto tell me that bidding for my mizuage hadbegun.

Chapter 8 Sayuri Becomes a Geisha

Before my mizuage night, I had to”turn thecollar” – change from an apprentice to ageisha. The change is called “turning the collar”because an apprentice wears a red collar on theunderskirt which shows below her kimono,while a geisha wears a white one. I turnedseventeen around the same time, in the summerof 1938.The day I turned my collar was one of thehappiest of Mrs Nitta’s life; or at least she actedmore pleased than I’ve ever seen her. I didn’tunderstand it at the time, but it’s perfectly clearto me now what she was thinking. A geisha,unlike an apprentice, is available to a man formore than just pouring his tea, for the right fee.And because of my connection with Mamehaand my increasing popularity in Gion, that feewas probably going to be large.

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In the end, Dr Crab offered more than Nobu formy mizuage, 11,500 yen. Until that time, thiswas the highest amount ever paid for a mizuagein Gion, and possibly in any of the geishadistricts of Japan. My mizuage fee was morethan what a worker earned in a year. EvenMameha’s mizuage, although a few yearsearlier, cost only 8,000 yen.

The mizuage fee was, of course, the reason MrsNitta adopted me. If she hadn’t adopted me,some of that money would have fallen into myhands – and I can just imagine how my newMother would have felt about that.But, as Mother said to me, “One day the okiyawill be yours.” We were in her room, sitting ather table, with smoke from her pipe filling theroom. I couldn’t think of anything to say, butshe didn’t seem to notice. “You and I willperform a ceremony next week,” she said. “Afterthat, you’ll be my daughter just as if you’d beenborn to me.”I was finding it difficult to concentrate on whatshe was saying; the changes were so great.Mother was telling me that as daughter of theokiya I would sooner or later moved into the bigroom used by Hatsumomo. Hatsumomo wouldhave to share with Pumpkin.I watched Mother’s gray mouth moving andslowly realized that this had always beenMameha’s plan but I’d never really believed itwould happen.As this thought came into my mind, the dooropened and Hatsumomo herself was there.

“What do you want?,” Mother said. “I’m busy.”“Get out,” Hatsumomo said to me. “I want totalk with Mother.”“If you want to talk with me,” Mother said, “youmay ask Sayuri if she’ll be kind enough toleave.”“Be kind enough to leave, Sayuri,” saidHatsumomo in a funny voice that was supposedto sound like me.And then, for the first time in my life I spokeback to her without the fear that she wouldpunish me for it.“I’ll leave if Mother wants me to,” I told her.“Mother, would you be kind enough to makeThe Little Fish Girl leave the room?,”Hatsumomo said.“Don’t talk about Sayuri like that,” said Mother.“Now, what do you want?.”The tiny figure of Hatsumomo stood over us, sonear that I could smell her perfume.“Poor Pumpkin’s just come running to me, veryupset,” she began. “I promised her I’d speakwith you. She told me something very strange.She said, “Oh, Hatsumomo. Mother’s changedher mind.” But I told her I doubted it was true.”“I don’t know what she meant. I certainlyhaven’t changed my mind about anythingrecently,” said Mother.

“So you haven’t changed your mind aboutadopting her?.”“What gave you that idea?. I was never goingto adopt Pumpkin.”

It hurt me to hear Mother say this, not onlybecause it wasn’t true, but for Pumpkin’ssake. Hatsumomo looked at me with hatred.“You haven’t helped Pumpkin in herapprenticeship as well as I’d hoped,” Mothersaid to Hatsumomo. “She was doing well for atime, but lately… .”“You promised, Mother,” said Hatsumomo. Itwas frightening to hear her. She didn’t soundlike a person at all, more like an animal – or awounded cat.“Sayuri will be my daughter in one week,” saidMother. “Between now and then you must learnto treat her with respect. When you godownstairs, ask the maid to bring tea for Sayuriand me.”

It’s strange and very hard to explain, but theworld looked different to me after mizuage.Pumpkin, who hadn’t yet had hers, now seemedinexperienced and childlike to me, even thoughshe was older than me. Mother and Hatsumomoand Mameha had all done it, of course, and Iwas probably much more aware than they wereof having had a shared experience.After mizuage a geisha wears her hair in a newstyle, with a red silk hairband not apatterned one. For a time, I was so aware ofwhich geisha had red silk hairbands and whichhad a patterned ones that I hardly seemed tonotice anything else while walking along thestreet. I had a new respect for the ones whohad been through mizuage, and felt moreexperienced than the ones who hadn’t.

But I didn’t just see the world differently aftermy mizuage. My day-to-day life changed as wellbecause of Mother’s new view of me. Motherwas the sort of person who puts a price oneverything. Before my mizuage, I don’t think itmade any difference to her that Hatsumomowas making trouble for me in Gion when shecould. But now I had a high price on me, so shestopped Hatsumomo’s troublemaking.I didn’t ask her to do it, and I don’t know howshe did it. Probably she just said, “Hatsumomo,if your behaviour causes trouble for Sayuri andcosts this okiya money, you’ll be the one to payit.”

Inside the okiya, life was almost pleasurable. Asthe adopted daughter I ate when I wanted. Ichose my kimono first instead of waiting forPumpkin to choose hers. Of course, I didn’tmind that Hatsumomo hated me because I wastreated better, but when Pumpkin passed me inthe okiya with a worried look, avoiding myeyes, that caused me real pain.

21

With my mizuage behind me, Dr Crabdisappeared from my life almost completely. Isay “almost” because I still saw him at parties inGion; but he was a true “mizuage specialist” andso had no more interest in me.

At the next Iwamura Electric party I sat myselfnext to the Chairman, not Nobu. I didn’t meanto, but I ignored Nobu. The Chairman wasfriendly when I poured his sake, but he reallydidn’t look at me. But I noticed that Nobu wasstaring at me angrily because I wasn’t talking tohim. So before the evening was over I spent abit of time with him and I was careful never toignore him again after this.

A month or two passed, and then one eveningduring a party, I mentioned to Nobu thatMameha had arranged for me to appear at afestival in Hiroshima. I wasn’t sure he waslistening when I told him, but the next day whenI returned to the okiya after my lessons, I foundin my room a new travel suitcase he’d sent meas a gift.I felt terribly ashamed of myself for thinking Icould simply forget Nobu after he was no longerneeded to bid for my mizuage. I wrote him anote of thanks for the travel case and told him Ilooked forward to seeing him at the next bigparty that Iwamura Electric planned in twomonths’ time.But something strange happened. Just beforethe party, I received a message saying I wasn’tneeded after all. I thought maybe they hadcancelled the party. But I was at the Ichirikianyway, for another party, and I met a geishacalled Katsue , who had just been to theIwamura party.“It’s a good party,” she said. “There must betwenty-five geisha there and nearly fifty men…”“And… Chairman Iwamura and Nobu are boththere?,” I asked her.“Not Nobu,” said Katsue. “Someone said hewent home sick this morning. But the Chairmanis there. Why do you ask?.”

I can’t remember what I said to that. But I feltdeeply worried. I’d always somehow imaginedthat the Chairman wanted my company as muchas Nobu did. Now I wasn’t so sure; maybe Nobuwas the only one who cared about me.

The next day, Mother asked to see me in herroom.“This time next month you’ll have a danna,”she said.“A danna? But Mother, I’m only eighteen…”“Yes. Hatsumomo didn’t have a danna until shewas twenty. And of course that didn’t last… Youshould be very pleased.”“Oh, I am very pleased,” I said untruthfully. “But. having a danna will take a lot of my timeand … I’ll earn less from party fees.”

This didn’t deceive Mother. “Leave thebusiness decisions to me,” she said. “Only a foolwould turn down an offer like the one NobuToshikazu has made.”

My heart nearly stopped when I heard this. Isuppose it was obvious that Nobu would oneday propose himself as my danna. He’d made anoffer for my mizuage and since then he’d askedfor my company at parties more than any otherman. But reaching the Chairman was the onehope that had helped me through my training. Icouldn’t give myself to the one man who wouldput him out of reach forever. I almost ranacross Gion to see Mameha.

Mameha knew all about it. “Nobu is a goodman,” she said, “and very fond of you. Iunderstand you may find Nobu difficult to lookat, but… ““Mameha, it isn’t that. Nobu is a good man, asyou say. But, Mameha… I don’t know how tosay it… this is never what I imagined.”“What do you mean?. Nobu has always treatedyou kindly.”“But Mameha, I don’t want kindness.”“Don’t you?. I thought we all wanted kindness.Maybe what you mean is that you wantsomething more than kindness. And this issomething you’re in no position to ask for.

Chapter 9 General Tottori

Mother gave Mameha a cautious glancebecause she didn’t know why Mameha wasthere, but then she gave a little bow andthanked her for coming. I didn’t know whyMameha had come either. We all sat at thetable, looking at each other over Mother’saccount books.“I’m sure you must be very pleased,” Mamehabegan, “that Sayuri will soon be taking adanna. And at only eighteen years of age. Howyoung to be taking such a big step.”“Mameha would have done well to take a dannaat that age herself,” Mother replied. “My adviceto you, Mameha, is that you do what you aregood at, like teaching Sayuri that pretty way ofrolling her eyes. You may leave the businessdecissions to me.”

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“I would never discuss business with you, MrsNitta. I’m sure you know more about thesethings… But may I ask?. Is it true the mostgenerous offer has come from NobuToshikazu?.”“His has been the only offer. I suppose thatmakes it the most generous.”“The only offer?. What a pity… The results areso much better when several men compete.Don’t you agree?.”“A hundred yen is a hundred yen,” said Mother,“whether it comes from this man or that one.”“I’m sure that’s true,” said Mameha, softly. “Still,it’s disappointing. Because another man hasexpressed interest in Sayuri, General TottoriJunnosuke…”

At this point I stopped listening to theconversation because I understood for the firsttime that Mameha was trying to rescue me fromNobu. I certainly hadn’t expected that. I had noidea why she had changed her mind since ourlast conversation. Maybe she had her ownreasons that were nothing to do with me. Mymind was full of these thoughts, until I feltMother’s hand on my arm.“Well?,” she said.“Ma’am?.”“I asked if you know the General.”“I’ve met him a few times, Mother,” I said. “Hecomes to Gion often.”

I don’t know myself why I said that. The truth isI’d met the General more than a few times. Hecame to parties in Gion every week. He was abit short, smaller than I am, in fact. But he wasone of those men who everybody looked at allthe time. He moved around a lot, alwayssmoking cigarettes, so he seemed to live in acloud of smoke.The last time I saw him he was slightly drunkand talked to me for the longest time about allthe ranks in the army. Everybody was talkingabout the army around this time because whatwe now call World War II, against America andEngland, had just started.General Tottori found it very funny when Iconfused all the army ranks. His own rank wassho-jo, which means “little general” – thelowest of the generals.But now Mameha was telling Mother that theGeneral had a new job. As Mameha explained it,the new job was like a housewife going tomarket. If the army needed ink, for example,the General’s job was to make sure it got ink atthe best possible price.“With his new job,” Mameha said, “the Generalcan now become a danna. And he can be a bighelp to the okiya.”“No,” said Mother. “The army men never takecare of a geisha the way the businessmen or thebarons do. They never offer a re l i ab leincome.”

“Mrs Nitta, until now in this war, we have beenlucky in Gion,” Mameha said. “But thes h o r t a g e s will affect us if the fightingcontinues.”“I’m sure they would affect us,” Mother said.“But this war will end in six months.”“And when it does, the army will be even moreimportant. Mrs Nitta, don’t forget that GeneralTottori can get you anything you want for thisokiya, whether the war ends or not.”

We all discovered later that Mameha was right.Her argument certainly had a big effect onMother. She glanced at the teapot and you couldalmost see her thinking. “Well, I haven’t had anytrouble getting tea; not yet… though the pricehas gone up…”. And then, without even realizingwhat she was doing, she put one hand insideher obi and squeezed her silk bag of tobacco.

During September of that year, General Tottoriand I drank sake together at a ceremony at theIchiriki Teahouse. This was the same ceremonyI’d first performed with Mameha when shebecame my Older Sister, and later with Dr Crabjust before my mizuage.

In the weeks afterward, everybodycongratulated Mother on finding me such apowerful danna. Everybody except Nobu, whotold me briefly and angrily at a party thatGeneral Tottori wasn’t good enough for me, andwalked away.

On that first night after the ceremony, I went onthe General’s instructions to a small hotel withonly three rooms in the northwest of Kyoto,called the Suyura Inn. By this time I was usedto the luxury and that decaying inn was ashock. The walls were wet and the tatami matswere so full of water that they made a noisewhen I stepped on them. When General Tottoricame, he turned on the radio and sat drinking abeer.

As the months passed, my twice-weeklymeetings with the General at the Suyura Innbecame nothing more than an unpleasantroutine. Sometimes I wondered what it might belike with the Chairman; and to tell the truth Iwas a little afraid that I might not like it, justas with the Doctor and the General.

During the summer of 1939 I was busy withparties, meetings with the General, and danceperformances. In the morning when I tried toget up from my futon, I often felt like a bucketfilled with nails. I wondered how much I wasearning through all my efforts, but I never reallyexpected to find out. So I was very surprisedwhen Mother called me into her room oneafternoon and told me I’d earned more in thepast six months than both Hatsumomo andPumpkin combined.

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“That means,” she said, “that the time has comefor you to exchange rooms with them.”

If you’d asked me, while I was still a youngwoman, to tell you the turning point in myrealtionship with Hatsumomo, I would have saidit was my mizuage. But even though it’s truethat my mizuage made me safe fromHatsumomo, the real turning point occurred theday we exchanged rooms.To explain this, let me tell you something thatAdmiral Yamamoto Isoroku once said duringan evening at the Ichiriki Teahouse. I can’tpretend I knew the Admiral well – he’s usuallydescribed as the father of the Japanese Navy –but I went to the same parties on a number ofoccasions. Parties usually grew louder after theAdmiral arrived.

At one party the Admiral had, as usual, just wona drinking game. Someone made a joke abouthim always winning, but the Admiral didn’tlaugh. He said he never had any doubts aboutwinning.One of the geisha said, “Oh, come on.Everybody loses sometimes, Admiral, even you.”“I suppose that everyone loses occasionally,”said the Admiral. “But never me.”Some people at the party thought this wasarrogant, but I didn’t. Someone asked him thesecret of his success.“I never try to defeat the man I’m fighting,”explained the Admiral. “I try to make him lessconfident. When you are more confident thanyour opponent, you will win.”The day I moved into Hatsumomo’s room, Ibecame more confident than her.

Tigers walk alone, and everyone knows that awounded tiger is the most dangerous of thebig cats. For that reason Mameha insisted thatwe follow Hatsumomo around Gion for the fewweeks after we exchanged rooms.So every evening, except when she had anengagement she couldn’t miss, Mameha came toour okiya when it got dark and we followedHatsumomo. On the first night we did this,Hatsumomo pretended to find it amusing. By theend of the fourth night she was looking like ahunted animal. On the fifth night she turned tous and raised her hand to hit Mameha. Iscreamed, which must have made Hatsumomostop and think about what she was doing. Shestared at us for a moment with eyes burning,before all the fire suddenly went out of her andshe walked off.

Plenty of people saw what had happened and afew came over to see if Mameha was all right.She said she was fine and then said sadly, “PoorHatsumomo. It must be just as the doctor said.She really does seem to be losing her mind.”There was no doctor, of course, but Mameha’swords had the effect she’d hoped for. Soon a

rumour spread all over Gion that a doctor hadsaid Hatsumomo was losing her mind.

For years Hatsumomo had been very close tothe famous kabuki actor Bando Shojiro VI.Shojiro was an onna-gata, which means thathe always played women in the theatre. Once,in a magazine interview, he said thatHatsumomo was the most beautiful woman he’dever seen. He said that on the stage, he tried tobe as much like her as possible to make himselfseem attractive. Not surprisingly, wheneverShojiro was in town, Hatsumomo visited him.One afternoon I learned that Shojiro wouldattend a party later that evening at a teahousein the geisha district of Pontocho, on the otherside of the river from Gion.Around nine o’clock Mameha and I arrived atShojiro’s party. It was outdoors; the teahousehad built a big wooden platform above thewater. It was beautifully lit with paper lamps,and the river was gold with the lights of therestaurants on the opposite bank. Shojiro was inthe middle of telling a story in his high voice, aswe arrived. Hatsumomo looked frightened at thesight of us.Mameha knelt right next to Hatsumomo, whichI thought was very brave of her. I sat furtheraway. Someone immediately asked Mameha toplay the shamisen and dance, which she did.Shojiro seemed fascinated. After herperformance Shojiro, who was a dancer himself,asked her to sit next to him. He turned his backto Hatsumomo.

Nobody knows better than Mameha how to keepa man’s attention, and soon Shojiro w a scharmed into acting some of his best-knownperformances just for Mameha. Then he startedimitating other actors. One of these imitations,of an actor called Bajuri who had performedkabuki in London to great praise, ended withShojiro holding Mameha and kissing her all overher face. Even Mameha looked surprised.Everyone else on the platform clapped andcheered. Everyone except Hatsumomo.“You are making a fool of yourself,”Hatsumomo told Shojiro.“Oh, Hatsumomo,” said Shojiro, “you’re jealous.”“Of course she is,” said Mameha. “Now youmust show us how the two of you make friendsagain. Go on, Shojiro. Don’t be shy. You mustgive her the same kisses you gave me.”Shojiro pulled Hatsumomo to her feet.Hatsumomo didn’t want to stand, but Shojiro didit in the end. He bent to kiss her, then pulled hishead back, screaming. Hatsumomo had bittenhim on the lip.“Hatsumomo, please,” said Mameha, as if shewas speaking to a child. “As a favour to me… dotry to calm down.”

I don’t know if it was the effect of Mameha’swords, or whether maybe Hatsumomo really

24

was losing her mind, but she threw herself atShojiro, kicking and biting. I do think that in away she went crazy.Two men held Hatsumomo from behind as shestruggled and kicked and screamed. Unnoticedby anybody, Mameha left and returned amoment later with the mistress of the teahouse.The mistress and Shojiro threw Hatsumomo outof the party.

Hatsumomo didn’t return to the okiya at all thatnight. When she did come back the followingday, she smelled like she’d been sick and herhair was all over the place. Mother took her intoher room and she was there a long time.

A few days later Hatsumomo left the okiya andnever came back. She was wearing a simplecotton dress Mother had given her and her hairwas long, down to her shoulders. I’d never seenit like that before. She didn’t leave voluntarily;Mother had thrown her out. Hatsumomowasn’t earning what she once had, and Mamehabelieved that Mother had wanted to get rid ofher for years.

Chapter 10 World War II

Having General Tottori as my danna broughtlitle change to my life. But his help to the okiyawas extremely useful, at least from Mother’spoint of view. He paid for many of my expenses,as a danna usually does – including the cost ofmy lessons, my annual registration fee at theschool, my medical expenses and … Oh, I don’teven know what else – my socks probably.But more importantly, his job with the army waseverything Mameha had said it would be. Forexample, Mother grew sick during March of1939. We were terribly worried about her andthe doctors were no help. But after a telephonecall to the General, an important doctor from themilitary hospital called and gave Mother somemedicine that cured her.The General sent regular deliveries of tea andsugar, as well as some luxuries like make-upand chocolates, which were becoming scarceeven in Gion. And of course Mother had beenquite wrong about the war ending within sixmonths. We couldn’t believe it at the time butwe’d hardly seen the beginning of the darkyears.

In Japan we refer to the years of the Depressionthrough World War II as kuraitani – the valleyof darkness. In Gion we never suffered as muchas others. While most Japanese lived in this darkvalley all through the 1930s, for example, inGion we were still warmed by a bit of sun. Andbecause of General Tottori the sun still reachedus, even in World War II.At least, it reached us until one afternoon just afew weeks before New Year’s Day, in December1942. I’d been busy helping to clean the okiya in

preparation for the New Year. I was eating mylunch when a man’s voice called out at ourentrance. Mother spoke to him and then spokehurriedly to me. “General Tottori was arrestedthis morning,” she said. “You’d better hide ourbest things, or they’ll be gone tomorrow.”Within a week we were no longer the peoplewho helped all their friends; instead we werethe people who most needed help. We’d alwaysgot tea for Mameha, but now she began to get itfor us. One day soon the geisha districts wouldclose and we feared we would all end up infactories . We all knew geisha who werealready there. Hatsumomo’s tall friend, forexample, the geisha Korin. She was in a Tokyofactory working double shifts with only a bowlof weak soup with a bit of potato in it for foodevery day.

Then one morning in January of 1943, I wasstanding in line at the rice store in the fallingsnow, when the shopkeeper next door put outhis head and called into the cold:“It’s happened.”We all looked at each other. For a moment Iwas too cold to care what he meant. I had thinpeasants’ clothing on; no one wore a kimonoduring the day any longer. Finally the geisha infront of me wiped some snow from her face andasked the shopkeeper what he meant.“The government has announced the closing ofthe geisha district,” he said. “All of you mustreport to the registry office tomorrow morningfor factory work.”I looked at the desperation on the faces of theother geisha around me and I knew we were allthinking the same thing: Which of the men weknew could save us from life in the factories?.

There was a rumour that General Tottori hadbeen released and was living in the SuruyaInn, the same place where we’d met during theevenings for so many years. Even though theGeneral had been my danna until the previousyear, I certainly wasn’t the only geisha whoknew him. I had to reach him before anybodyelse did.I wasn’t dressed for the weather, but I startedat once for the northwest of the city. I arrivedthere an hour or two later, red with the cold andcovered with snow. But when I greeted themistress of the inn, she took a long look at mebefore bowing in apology and saying she had noidea who I was.“It’s me… Sayuri. I’ve come to speak with theGeneral.”“Sayuri. I never thought I’d see you looking likethe wife of a peasant.”She led me inside at once, but before she tookme to the General, she dressed me in one of herkimonos. She even found some make-up shehad hidden and put it on me, so the Generalwould know who I was.

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When I entered his room General Tottori wassitting at the table listening to the radio. I couldsee in his face and on his thin body how hardthe past years had been for him. He’d beenaccused of some awful crimes, including theft;some people thought he was lucky not to be inprison. I read an attack on him in a magazinethat said that the Japanese Navy’s defeat inthe South Pacific was all his fault because thesupplies were so bad.

“You’re looking so well, General,” I said, thoughof course this was a lie. “What a pleasure it is tosee you again.”The General switched off the radio. “You’re notthe first person to come to me,” he said.“There’s nothing I can do to help you, Sayuri.”“But I rushed here so quickly. I can’t imaginehow anyone reached you before I did.”“Since last week nearly every geisha I know hasbeen to see me, but I don’t have friends inpower any longer. I don’t know why a topgeisha like you should come to me anyway.You’re liked by so many men with influence.”“There’s a difference between being popular andhaving real friends who will help,” I said.“Yes, you’re right. What sort of help have youcome to me for, anyway?.”“Any help at all, General. We talk about nothingthese days in Gion except how miserable life ina factory will be.”“Life will be miserable for the lucky ones. Therest won’t even live to see the end of the war.”“I don’t understand.”“The bombs will fall soon,” the General said.“You can be certain the factories will receivemore than their share. If you want to be alivewhen this war is over, you’d better find someonewho can put you in a safe place. I’m sorry I’mnot that man, Sayuri. I’ve already used anyinfluence I had.”The General asked about Mother’s health andthen we said goodbye. I learned only much laterwhat he meant about using all his influence. Themistress of the Suruya had a young daughter;the General had arranged to send her to a townin northern Japan.

I went to see Mameha. She was nearly asfrightened as I was. Her relationship with herdanna, the Baron, had ended, and she was nowliving in a much smaller apartment. She had noadvice for me because she was unable to helpherself.“The Baron will do nothing to help me,” shesaid, her face pale with worry. “I’ve been unableto reach the other men I have in mind. You hadbetter think of someone, Sayuri, and go to himas quickly as you can.”Of course I thought of the Chairman. I wouldhave taken any chance just to speak to him. ButI could never have asked him for a favour. Hewas warm to me when we met by chance, but Iwasn’t invited to Iwamura parties even when

lesser geisha were. I felt hurt by this, but whatcould I do?.But even if the Chairman had wanted to helpme, his problems with the military governmenthad been in the newspapers lately. He had toomany of his own troubles.So I spent the rest of that afternoon going fromteahouse to teahouse in the biting cold, askingabout men I hadn’t seen in weeks or evenmonths. None of the mistresses knew where tofind them

Just before General Tottori became my danna,Nobu used to watch me at the Ichiriki Teahouse,looking more and more puzzled. He’d expectedto arrange everything with Mother quickly and tobecome my danna. I expected that myself, atthe time. Even the mistress of the Ichiriki wasworried by how angry Nobu was when it didn’thappen. I remember him at a party, walkingpast the mistress without looking at her, hisjaw shut hard in anger. And I’ll never forgethis angry eyes, watching me all through theevening while guests at the party were laughingand enjoying themselves. That was the last timeI’d seen him, over four years ago.

That evening, the Ichiriki had a last party beforeit closed. Some of the geisha looked half deadwith fear; others looked calm and lovely, paintedwith just a little sadness. I don’t know how Ilooked. My mind was working all the time,thinking which man I’d talk to and how I’d do it.I hardly heard a maid tell me I was wanted inanother room. I imagined a group of men hadrequested my company, but the maid led meto the small rooms at the back of the teahouse.She opened the door of a small tatami roomI’d never entered before. And there at the table,alone with a glass of beer, sat Nobu.There was a beer for me too. Beer was veryunusual at this time. When the maid had left, Isat down at the table and we raised our glasses.

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“Here’s a drink to your danna,” said Nobu. “Fouryears ago I told you he wasn’t good enough foryou and I was right. Don’t you agree?.”“The truth is … he isn’t my danna any longer.”“Exactly. And even if he were, he couldn’t do athing for you, could he?. Gion’s going to closeand everyone’s terrified for their lives. I receiveda call at my office today from a certain geisha…I won’t name her. She asked if I could find her ajob at Iwamura Electric.”“If you don’t mind my asking, what did you tellher?.”“I don’t have a job for anyone, hardly evenmyself. Even the Chairman may have no jobsoon. He’ll be in prison if he doesn’t do what thegovernment says. They want us to makeairplanes. I mean, honestly. Iwamura makerefrigerators and heaters. Sometimes I askmyself what these people are thinking.”“Nobu should speak more quietly.”“Who’s going to hear me?. Your General?.”“Speaking of the General,” I said, “I did go tosee him today, to ask for his help.”“He didn’t help you, did he?.”“No, he said he’d already used the influence hehad.”“That wouldn’t have taken him long. Why didn’the save his influence for you?.”“I haven’t seen him in more than a year…”“You haven’t seen me in more than four years.And I have saved my best influence for you.Why didn’t you come to me before now?.”“Because I imagined you were angry with me allthis time. Just look at you, Nobu. Look at theanger in your face. How could I have to come toyou?.”“How could you not come?. I can save you fromthe factories. I have something perfect for you.Just like a nest for a bird. You’re the only oneI’ll give it to, Sayuri. But I won’t give it untilyou’ve bowed to the floor and admitted howwrong you were, when you took General Tottorias your danna. Oh, yes, I’m angry with you.”I did what Nobu asked of me. I moved awayfrom the table to make room, and I bowed lowto the floor.“Forgive me for my foolishness,” I said.

All the kimono-makers were now makingparachutes because they were used to workingwith silk. Nobu had arranged for me to stay withone of them, a family called Arashino. Theylived in the country, outside Kyoto.The Arashinos were very kind to me during theyears I lived in their home. By day I worked withthem, sewing parachutes. At night I slept nextto their daughter and grandson on a futon onthe floor of the workshop where we made theparachutes.Of course, there wasn’t much food. You can’timagine some of the things we learned to eat.We ate food that was usually given to animals.And there was something called nukapan that

looked like old dry leather, though the leatherwould probably have tasted better.I grew so thin during those years that nobodywould have recognized me on the streets ofGion. Some days the Arashinos’ little grandson,Juntaro, cried from hunger – and then MrArashino sold one of the kimonos he used tomake. This was what we Japanese called the“onion life” – removing layer after layer, andcrying all the time.

One night in the spring of 1944 we saw the firstbombs dropped on Japan. The bombers passedover us, not only that night but every night.They were flying to the factories in Osaka andTokyo. I was desperately worried about theChairman and Nobu, working at the Iwamurafactory in Osaka.

The Kamo River flowed below our workshopbefore it ran to Osaka and then out into the sea.Day after day I threw flowers into the river,hoping that the Chairman, sitting at this desk inOsaka, might look out of the window and seethem and think of me.But even if he saw the flowers, I feared hewouldn’t think of me. He’d often been kind tome, it was true, but he was a kind man. He’dnever shown any sign of recognizing that I wasthe girl on the bridge or that I cared for him orthought of him.If I came to the end of my life and had spentevery day watching for a man who never cameto me, what life would I have had?. I’d be like adancer who practiced since childhood for aperformance she would never give.

I learned during those years that nothing is asunpredictable as who will survive a war and whowon’t. Mameha survived, working as a nurse ina small hospital, but her maid, Asami, was killedby the terrible bomb that fell on Nagasaki.Some of the people in the most dangerousplaces survived. Hatsumomo’s dresser, MrBekku, who had taken me from my home inYoroido, worked for the navy in Osaka andsurvived somehow. Pumpkin worked in a factoryin Osaka that was bombed five times, but shealso survived. So did General Tottori, who livedin the Suyura Inn until his death in the mid-1950s. But the geisha Korin and Katsue and the

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wrest ler Miyagiyama were all killed byfirebombs in Tokyo.There was never any doubt that Mother wouldsurvive. She spent the war buying and selling,growing richer not poorer. When Mr Arashinoneeded to sell a kimono, who do you thinkbought it from him?. And then sold it again formuch more than she paid for it.The war ended for us in August of 1945. Almosteveryone who lived in Japan at this time will tellyou that it was the blackest moment in the longnight of darkness. For a year or more I neveronce heard the sound of laughter.But by the spring of 1946 there was again talkof Japan’s rebirth. All the stories about Americansoldiers killing us were shown to be wrong; theAmericans were extremely kind. As they drovepast on trucks, throwing candy to our children,they had no eyes for me: a thin woman in wornpeasant clothes, with hands rough from workon the parachutes. But why had we been taughtto hate them?.

One cold November afternoon, three years afterthe end of the war, Mr Arashino told me therewas somebody to see me. By this time MrArashino was making kimonos again and I washelping him.My visitor was Nobu. He told me that Gion wasopen again.

Chapter 11 Nobu Again

“I have a task for you to do in Gion,” saidNobu. “If it works out as I hope, our companywill be trading again in a year or two. Then thetime will have come at last for me to becomeyour danna.”My skin went cold when I heard this, but Ishowed no sign of it. “How mysterious, Nobu. Atask I could do, which would be helpful toIwamura Electric?.”“It’s an awful task. I won’t lie to you. I want youto entertain a man called Sato. He looks andbehaves like a pig. He tells me he always satacross the table so he could stare at you. You’rethe only thing he ever talks about – when hetalks at all, most of the time he just sits.”

I had to laugh when I heard this. “How awful atask can that be?. However much Nobu dislikeshim, I’m sure I’ve entertained worse. But howwould that help Iwamura?.”Nobu sighed. “All through the war, the Chairmanresisted the government’s orders. When hefinally agreed to cooperate, the war was almostover, and nothing we ever made for them – notone thing – was used in the war. But now wehave to prove that to the Americans. If theydon’t believe us, they will take Iwamura, sell it,and use the money to help victims of the war.Sato is the man who will make the decisionabout Iwamura for the Americans. He’s the newDeputy Minister of Finance.”

“Nobu,” I said, “if it’s important to make a goodimpression on Deputy Minister Sato, maybe youshould ask the Chairman to be there when youentertain him.”“The Chairman is a busy man. Sayuri, you dolook like a peasant.”And then Nobu got up and left.

The next day I said a tearful good-bye to theArashinos and, at the age of nearly thirty, I wentback to Gion. Mother and I spent four or fivedays cleaning the okiya, helped by one cook,one maid, and a girl called Etsuko. She was thedaughter of the man who owned the farm whereMother had lived during the war. Etsuko wastwelve, the same age as I was when I first cameto Kyoto.When the okiya was clean, I went to seeMameha. She was now in a one-room apartmentnear Gion Shrine. She was shocked when shefirst saw me because I was so thin. The truthwas, I was just as shocked at the changes inher. Her face was still as lovely as ever, but herneck looked too old for her face. Her mouthshowed problems she’d had with her teethduring the war.We talked for a long time, and then I asked herif she thought Dances of the Old Capitalwould start again, the following spring. It hadn’tbeen performed for a number of years.“With all the American soldiers in Gion thesedays,” she said, “English will get you furtherthan dance. Anyway, the Kaburenjo Theatre hasbeen turned into an American Cabaret. There’seven a new Japanese word for it – kyaberei.”

About a week after my return, I was finallyready to make my first appearance as a geishaagain. Since I was nearing thirty, I would nolonger be expected to wear white make-upexcept on special occasions. But I did spend halfan hour trying western-style make-up to try tohide how thin I’d become.When Mr Bekku came to dress me,young Etsukostood and watched just as I’d once watchedHatsumomo. It was the astonishment in hereyes, more than anything I saw while looking inthe mirror, that persuaded me I truly looked likea geisha again.When at last I set out that evening, snowcovered Gion. There were soldiers here andthere on the streets and I didn’t want to thinkabout what I might find when I reached theIchiriki. But the only differences were the blackshoes of the officers in the entrance, andstrangely enough the teahouse was quieter thanbefore the war.I waited for Nobu and Deputy Minister Sato inan empty room next to the room where I wouldentertain them. No geisha likes to be seen doingnothing; it makes her look unpopular. This gaveme a chance to listen to Nobu struggling to bepleasant as he brought the Minister in.

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“Isn’t this a nice room, Minister?,” said Nobu. Iheard a grunt in reply. The Minister really didsound like a pig. Nobu continued, “It’s abeautiful night, isn’t it?. Did I already ask you ifyou tasted the Ichiriki Teahouse’s own specialsake?.”

When I left the empty room and joined Nobuand the Deputy Minister, Nobu looked verypleased to see me. I got my first good look atthe Minister only after introducing myself andgoing to kneel at the table. I didn’t rememberhim, even if he had said he’d spent hours staringat me. He kept his chin down on his chest andmade no sounds except grunts.When the maid arrived with sake, the Ministerpoured the drink directly into his lower jaw. Hedidn’t seem to s w a l l o w it at all but itdisappeared like water down a drain.Things went about like this for about fifteenminutes; the Minister grunted and poured sakeinto his jaw. Then he finally said something. Heasked me if I was a dancer.“Yes. Yes, I am,” I said. “Would the Minister likeme to perform a short dance?.”“No,” he said. And that was the end of that.Very soon we began to play a drinking game.The Minister had never played it before. He keptlosing, kept drinking, and Nobu and I just gothim out of the snow-covered garden before hethrew up. Then the Minister lay very still on hisback in the snow.“Well, Nobu,” I said. “I didn’t know how muchfun your guest was going to be.”“I believe we’ve killed him.”“You must take him out into the street and walkhim around a bit to wake him up. The cold willdo him good.”“He’s lying in the snow. Isn’t that cold enough?.”“Nobu,” I said.I went to get a maid to help because Nobucouldn’t get the Minister on his feet with onlyone arm. With the maid’s help we got theMinister back inside. The maid cleaned theMinister’s jacket and left us alone again.“We need more geisha next time,” I said toNobu, above the sleeping Minister. “And maybeyou should bring the Chairman next time too.”The Minister opened his eyes and managed topull himself up a little.

“Well, Minister, this certainly has been awonderful evening,” said Nobu. “Next time we’llhave even more fun. Instead of throwing upon just me, you might be able to throw up onthe Chairman, and maybe another geisha or twoas well.”“I like this geisha,” said the Minister. “I don’twant another one.”Whatever the Minister said it was obvious thatwe needed more geisha next time. I’d askMameha, of course, but I wanted to askPumpkin too.

I knew almost nothing about Pumpkin’scircumstances, except that she was back inGion, so I went to speak with Mother. Mothertold me that Pumpkin had asked to come backto the okiya when it had reopened but that she,Mother, had refused because Pumpkin would bea poor investment.“She’s living in a poor little okiya over in theHanami-cho area,” mother said. “But don’t goand see her. I think it would be foolish of you tospeak with her.”“I have to admit,” I said, “I’ve never felt rightabout what happened between Pumpkin andme…”“Nothing happened between you. Pumpkindidn’t do well enough and you succeeded.Anyway, she’s doing better these days. TheAmericans can’t get enough of her. She saysexactly what she thinks. The Americans likethat.”

That afternoon I crossed Shijo Avenue to theHanami-cho area of Gion, and found the poorlittle okiya Mother had told me about. A youngmaid showed me into a room that didn’t smelltoo good, and came back later to bring me acup of weak tea. I waited a long time beforePumpkin at last came and slid open the door.I felt such warmth for her. I got up from thetable, wanting to put my arms around her. Shetook a few steps into the room and then kneltand gave a formal bow, as if I was Mother. Ididn’t know what to do and just stopped in themiddle of the room.“Really, Pumpkin… it’s only me,” I said.She wouldn’t even look at me, but looked downat the mats like a maid waiting for orders. I feltvery disappointed and went back to my placeat the table.

When we’d last seen each other, during the war,Pumpkin’s face was still round and full, but nowher heavy cheeks had thinned, leaving her withan elegance that was astonishing to me. Idon’t mean that Pumpkin had suddenly becomea beauty like Hatsumomo, but her face had acertain womanliness that had never beenthere before.It was a long time later that I found out whathad happened to Pumpkin. After the closing ofthe factory where she worked, she had to spendmore than two years in Osaka, on the streets,selling herself.“I’m sure the years have been difficult,Pumpkin,” I said to her, “but you look quitelovely.”Pumpkin didn’t reply to this. She just moved herhead to show that she’d heard me. Icongratulated her on her popularity and triedasking about her life since the war, but her faceshowed no expression, so I began to feel sorryI’d come. Finally, after an awkward silence,she spoke.

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“Have you come here just to chat, Sayuri?.Because I don’t have anything to say that willinterest you.”“The truth is,” I said, “I saw Nobu Toshikazurecently, and… actually Pumpkin, he’ll bebringing Deputy Minister Sato to Gionsometimes. I thought you’d be kind enough tohelp us entertain him.”“I know you think I’m stupid…”“Pumpkin.”“But you probably have some other reasonyou’re not going to tell me about.”“I suppose I do have another reason,” I said.“To tell you the truth, I’d hoped that after allthese years, you and I might be friends, as weonce were. We’ve survived so many thingstogether… including Hatsumomo.”Pumpkin said nothing.

However, she accepted her invitation to theIchiriki that Saturday, and she and Mameha andI entertained the Chairman, Nobu, and Sato allthrough that winter and the following spring,once or twice a week, as long as Sato wasdeciding the future of Iwamura Electric.Pumpkin was very good with Sato. The first timeshe met him she said, in the direct way she nowhad, “Hey, Minister, I’ll bet you don’t rememberme, but I know a lot about you.”“What do you know?,” said Mameha. “Tell ussomething.”“I know the Minister has a younger sister who’smarried to the mayor of Tokyo,” Pumpkin said.“And I know he broke his hand in a fight once.”The Minister was looking surprised, so thesethings must have been true. But Pumpkin wasn’tfinished yet.“Also Minister, I know a girl you used to know,Nau Itsuko. We worked in a factory outsideOsaka together. You know what she told me?.She told me you and she did some bad, badthings together.”I was afraid the Minister might be angry, but helooked quite proud of himself. He and Pumpkin

were soon friendly, and the Chairman seemed tolike her too.Pumpkin wore a really extraordinary graykimono to the parties, with bright gold dots onit. These were stars set against a background ofwater and mountains, in the light of the moon.Neither my kimono nor Mameha’s couldcompare with it.The Chairman seemed to like the kimono toobecause he asked Pumpkin to model it for him.She turned around and around slowly for him,so that he could admire her. At the next partyPumpkin wasn’t there, she was sick, and theChairman left early. I spent many unhappyhours wondering if these two events wereconnected.My concern about the Chairman’s opinion of memade me take a chance. We were playing agame called “Truth and Lies”. You have to telltwo stories. One of them is the truth, and theother a lie – and then everyone guesses whichone was which. Geisha play this game so oftenthat they all have lots of stories ready. But thistime I told a story that I’d never told before.“Once when I was a child,” I began, “I was veryupset one day, and I went to the banks of theShirakawa Stream and began to cry…”As I began this story, I felt almost as though Iwere reaching across the table to touch theChairman on the hand. It seemed to me that noone else in the room would consider the story tobe unusual, but the Chairman would understandit – or at least I hoped he would. I felt I washaving a very private conversation with himalone, and I could feel myself getting warm as Ispoke.When I finished my story, I looked up, expectingto find the Chairman looking at me withunderstanding, but he didn’t even seem to belistening. I felt like a fool. Like a girl who walksalong the street imagining that every man islooking at her, but the street is empty.Luckily, the Minister was too drunk to noticeanything, and Nobu was busy eating his food.Mameha had just started her story. Pumpkin,though, had been watching me carefully. WhenI looked at her, she had a smile on her face thatI feared, though I didn’t completely understandit.Worse followed. Minister Sato had asked themistress of the Ichiriki if he could be my danna.Nobu and Mother together didn’t have too muchdifficulty in stopping this. They told the mistressof the Ichiriki to tell Sato that I wasn’tavailable.

Nobu was telling me what happened next. Helooked angry even for him. “And do you knowwhat that foolish minister Sato said?. After hefound out he wasn’t going to be your danna, hesat there for a long time like a pile of dirt andthen he finally said – Could you arrange for meto be Sayuri’s danna just once?. He meant for

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one night. Really. You wouldn’t do that, wouldyou?.”“Nobu…”“If you’re a woman who would do such a thing,I want you to leave this room right now, andnever speak to me again.”He picked his beer glass up and banged itdown again on the table so hard that it crackedand beer spilled on the table. He’d cut his handon the glass too, and there was blood on it. Icouldn’t understand how the evening hadsuddenly become so dangerous; but it wasperfectly clear to me that I could give only oneanswer.“I would never do that,” I said.

I thought that would calm him, but for a longterrifying moment the anger stayed in his face.Then he slowly breathed out.“Next time, speak before I have to cut myselffor an answer,” he said. “Now listen. Things arepossible that weren’t possible before. Sato isgoing to tell the Americans the truth, thatIwamura didn’t help the government in the war.The Chairman and I are safe now. I’m going tobe your danna.”

I left the room as quickly as I could to find amaid to help with Nobu’s hand, which wascovered with blood from his cut.

Chapter 12 Sato

That night as I lay on my futon, I decided to belike a fisherman who hour after hour takes outfish from his net. Whenever I thought of theChairman, I took the thought from my mind andthen again and again until no thoughts wereleft. It would have been a good system, I’msure, if I could have made it work. I even triedto think of Nobu instead of the Chairman, butwithout success.

I did this for weeks, trying to remake myself. Iwent to parties as usual, but I knelt in silencewith my hands in my lap. Mother told me Ilooked like a ghost. She’d brought in anewspaperr while I was eating lunch. There wasan article in it about Iwamura. It was a difficultarticle to read, full of numbers and businessterms. But it was clear that Iwamura could maketheir heaters and refrigerators again, and in thesame week the company had got a big loanfrom Mitsubishi Bank.

“it’s no wonder we’ve heard so much from NobuToshikazu these past few days,” said Mother.“You must know he wants to be your danna.Well, there’s no problem with that now. It’sfinally happening. We all know how fondyou’ve been of Nobu these past few years.”Mother followed this with some news. Themistress of the Ichiriki had received a telephonecall that morning from Iwamura Electric about a

trip to the island of Amami, the followingweekend. I’d been asked to go, with Mamehaand Pumpkin. We were going by airplane. I’dnever been on one – I’d never even seen one. Iwas terrified.

When Friday morning came, we started forOsaka by train. In addition to Mr Bekku, whocame as far as the airport to help us with ourtrunks, the little group consisted of Mameha,Pumpkin, and me.From Osaka Station we travelled to the airport ina little bus not much larger than a car, whichburned coal and was very dirty. At last, after anhour or more, we climbed down beside a silverairplane balanced on tiny wheels; and when wewent inside, the airplane sloped down so muchI thought it was broken.The men were there already, sitting in seats atthe back. With the Chairman, Nobu, and MinisterSato, there was an elderly man who I laterlearned was President of Mitsubishi bank.We sat toward the front of the airplane and leftthe men to their dull conversation. Soon I hearda coughing noise and the airplane shook. Thenit started to move. The noise of the enginesgrew worse, and the airplane began to moveforward. Finally the noise grew to a terrifyingroar, and we began to rise up into the air.

Mameha had put me in a window seat, thinkingthe view might calm me, but now she saw theground disppearing below us and she refused toswitch seats with me. Someone finally told methe trip was seven hundred kilometres andwould take nearly four hours, but only when theground was far below us. When I heard this, I’mafarid tears came into my eyes, and everyonebegan to laugh at me.I pulled the curtains over the windows, and triedto calm myself by reading a magazine. Sometime later, after Mameha had fallen asleep in theseat beside me, I looked up and saw Nobustanding over me.

“Sayuri, are you well?,” he said, speaking quietlyso he didn’t wake Mameha.

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“I don’t thing Mr Nobu has ever asked me thatbefore,” I said. “He must be in a very cheerfulmood.”“The future has never looked better.”Nobu lokked at me and the walked away. For amoment I thought he might see in my eyes thatI was worried about my future with him as hewas happy about his future with me. But ofcourse he didn’t. Nobu understood me so little.A geisha who expects understanding from herdanna is like a mouse expecting sympathy froma snake.The Chairman was the only man I’d everentertained as Sayuri the geisha who had alsoknown me as Chiyo. Why couldn’t I stopthinking about the Chairman?. If you’d asked methat, I would have answered, “Why does waterrun downhill?.” “Why do fish taste of fish?.”

I looked out of the airplane window at the bluewater far below. And then a frightening picturecame into my mind of me cutting the cord thattied me to Nobu and watching him fall from theairplane into the ocean.Of course, I don’t mean that I was really goingto throw Nobu out of the airplane, but I didhave a sudden understanding of the one thing Icould do to end my relationship with himforever. Nobu himself had told me how to do it,just a moment after cutting his hand that nightat the Ichiriki Teahouse only a few weeksearlier. If I could agree to give myself toMinister Sato for one night, he’d said, he wouldnever speak to me again.As we left the airplane, I must still have lookedvery worried because Mameha kept telling methat I was safe at last.

We arrived at our inn about an hour beforesunset. The others admired the room where wewould all be staying. I pretended to admire ittoo, but I wasn’t really interested; I was tooworried about what I was going to do. But theroom was nice. It was as big as the largest roomat the Ichiriki Teahouse, with tatami mats, darkwood and beautiful Japanese furniture.When the luggage was unpacked, we were allready for a bath. The men’s and women’schanging and washing areas were separated,but when we entered the pool of natural waterat the inn we were together. In my day it wasconsidered normal for geisha to take a bath withtheir best customers and sleep in the sameroom as them.A geisha would never be alone with a man whowasn’t her danna, but in a group like this, withwater covering our bodies, well, that wasaccepted. And we even have a word for sleepingin a group – zakone, “fish-sleeping.” If youpicture in your mind the way fish look in abasket, you’ll understand the name.Nobu had been in the water for a long time,talking to the Chairman, but now he was sittingon a rock with only his legs in the water. He was

rubbing the stump of his arm with the otherhand and looking into the water.I’d never seen his body before. His damagedshoulder looked as bad as his face. And now Iwas thinking about betraying him. He’d thinkI’d done it for only one reason, and would neverunderstand the truth. I hated the thought ofhurting Nobu or destroying his good opinion ofme. Could I really do what I’d thought of on theairplane?.

After breakfast the following morning, we alltook a walk through the streets of the littlevillage. Nobu was as cheerful as I’d ever seenhim. We found an old wood building with asloped roof. We walked around to the back,where Nobu climbed stone steps to open a doorat the corner. Sunlight fell across a dusty stagebuilt out of wood; at one time this had obviouslybeen the town’s theatre.I had a picture in my mind of me lying there onthat wooden stage with Minister Sato as thedoor opened and sunlight fell on us. We’d haveno place to hide; Nobu couldn’t possibly fail tosee us.

As we walked back toward our inn, I walkedbehind the rest of the group because I wantedto take my handkerchief from my sleeve. It wasvery hot and the sun was shining full onto ourfaces. Nobu came walking back to ask if I wasall right.“You haven’t looked well all weekend, Sayuri,”he said. “Maybe you should have stayed inKyoto.”“But then I wouldn’t have seen this beautifulisland.”“I’m sure this is the farthest you’ve ever beenfrom your home. We’re a long way from Kyotonow.”I had the same thought that I’d had on theairplane; that Nobu didn’t understand me at all.Kyoto wasn’t my home. And at that moment, asI looked at him in the hot sun, I decided tobetray Nobu, even though he was looking at mewith kindness.

But I had no idea how I’d get Minister Sato tothe theatre with me, and even less idea how I’darrange for Nobu to find us there. MaybePumpkin would take Nobu for a walk if I askedher to?. I didn’t think I could ask Mameha.Pumpkin would be much less shocked at what Iwas planning than Mameha would be. I’d needto tell Pumpkin very clearly to bring Nobu to theold theatre.But first I had to speak to the Minister, whoright now was putting fish into his lower jaw. Heate in the same way as he drank beer. It lookedawful.

“Minister,” I said, “when you have finished yourfood why don’t you and I look around the inntogether?.”

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I didn’t wait for him to reply, but walked fromthe room. I was relieved when he came out amoment later to join me.“Minister,” I said, “why don’t we take a walkback down to the village together?.”He looked very confused by this.“There’s something I would like to see again,” Iadded.The Minister grunted a yes and I told him towait while I went to find Pumpkin. She was inher room, looking through her trunk frosomething.“Pumpkin,” I said, “I need to ask a favour.”I waited for her to tell me she was happy tohelp, but she just stood with her eyes on me.“I hope wou won’t mind me asking…”“Ask,” he said.“The Minister and I are going for a walk. I’mgoing to take him to the old theatre, and…”“Why?.”“So that he and I can be alone.”“You want to be alone?. With the Minister?. Areyou crazy?.”“I’ll explain some other time, but this is what Iwant you to do. I want you to bring Nobu thereand… Pumpkin, this will sound very strange. Iwant you to find us there together.”“What game are you playing, Sayuri?.”“I don’t have time to explain it now. But it’sterribly important, Pumpkin. Truthfully, myentire future is in your hands. Just make surethat Nobu sees me and the Minister together. I’llrepay you in any way you like.”She looked at me for a long moment. “So it’stime for a favour from Pumpkin again, is it?,”she said.

As I walked back to the village with the Minister,I remembered the day Mameha had cut me onthe leg and taken me to see Dr Crab. On thatafternoon I’d felt in some sort of danger Icouldn’t fully understand, and I felt much thesame way now. But I kept talking in the hot sunas we walked all the way back to the theatre.“Will you come inside with me for a moment,Minister?.”He didn’t seem to know how to react to this, butwhen I climbed the stone steps and went intothe theatre he walked after me. But then he juststood there, like a man waiting for a bus. Myhands were shaking. I didn’t know if I could dowhat I’d planned to do.“Minister,” I said. “Even if you can’t be mydanna…”A look of understanding spread slowly across theMinister’s face.“We’ll go over there,” he said, pointing to acorner of the theatre.That was no good. Nobu could miss us if we layin a corner.“Let’s go up on the stage,” I said.I lay down on the stage, and the Minister laydown on top of me. When he touched me, Iimagined life with Nobu as my danna and that

helped me to let him do what he wanted. Withhis jaw on top of my face he looked more animalthan human. I shut my eyes.

And then the door opened and there wassunlight over us as we lay there. With theMinister on top of me I had to look carefully butI could just recognize two people. One of themwas Pumpkin. The other one was the Chairman.

Chapter 13 The Chairman

Mameha was kneeling above me. I was puzzledto find that I wasn’t in the old theatre anylonger, but looking up from the tatami floor of adark little room at the inn. I didn’t rememberleaving the theatre, but I must have done itsomehow.Later, as I walked unsteadily back to my roomwith a terrible feeling of fear, I saw Pumpkinjust coming out of her room. She stopped whenshe saw me; but she didn’t apologize as I half-expected. She turned her head slowly andlooked at me the way a snake might look at amouse.“Pumpkin,” I said, “I asked you to bring Nobu,not the Chairman. I don’t understand…”“Yes, it must be difficult for you to understand,Sayuri, when life doesn’t work out perfectly.”“Perfectly?. Nothing worse could havehappened… did you misunderstand what I wasasking you?.”“You really do think I’m stupid?,” she said.I was confused and just stood there in silence.“I thought you were my friend,” I said at last.“I thought you were my friend too, once. Butthat was a long time ago.”“You talk as if I’d done something to harm you,Pumpkin, but…”“No, you’d never do anything like that, wouldyou?. Not the perfect Miss Nitta Sayuri. Isuppose it doesn’t matter that you took myplace as daughter of the okiya?. Do youremember that, Sayuri?. After I’d helped youabout the Doctor – whatever his name was.After I’d risked making Hatsumomo mad at mefor helping you. After all that, you stole whatwas mine.”“But Pumpkin,” I interrupted, “couldn’t you havejust refused to help me?. Why did you have tobring the Chairman?.”She looked me in the eye. “I know perfectly wellhow you feel about him,” she said. “Wheneveryou think there’s nobody looking, you look athim like you were his dog. You took somethingfrom me a long time ago, Sayuri. Well, howdoes it feel now?.”

During the rest of that evening I don’tremember anything clearly; while the otherswere drinking and laughing, I could onlypretend to laugh. I must have been redbecause from time to time Mameha touched myneck to see if I was feverish.

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I sat as far away from the Chairman as I could,so that our eyes wouldn’t have to meet; and Idid survive the evening without talking to him.But later, as we were all getting ready for bed, Ipassed the Chairman as he was going into hisroom. I should have moved out of his way, but Ifelt too ashamed. I gave a quick bow andhurried past him, not even trying to hide howunhappy I felt.After everyone was asleep, I left the inn with myhead spinning and walked back to the ocean.It was dark, the wind was screaming, and thewaves were crashing angrily. It was as thoughthe wind and the water had taken on the spiritof my old girlhood enemy, Hatsumomo.

The screaming of the wind and the crashing ofthe waves seemed to laugh at me. Could itreally be that the stream of my life had turnedaway from the Chairman forever?. I took hishandkerchief from my sleeve. I’d taken it to bedwith me that evening as usual and then put it inmy sleeve when I went out. I dried my face withit and then held it up into the wind.I thought of letting it go and letting the windtake it, but then I thought of the letter MrTanaka had sent me so many years earlier,telling me that my parents were dead. We mustalways keep something to remember those whohave left us. The letter was all that remained ofmy childhood. The Chairman’s handkerchief

would be what remained of the rest of my life.

On Wednesday morning, only three days afterour return from Amami, I got a message thatsomeone from Iwamura Electric had telephonedthe Ichiriki Teahouse to request my presencethat evening. This could only mean that

everything was still all right after the events onAmami, and Nobu was ready to become mydanna.I dresseed late in the afternoon in a yellow silkkimono with a green underskirt and a dark blueand gold obi. I looked at myself in the mirrorand saw a defeated woman. My face lookedthin, even though as usual I’d put on westernstyle make-up; even my hair didn’t look right. Icouldn’t think of any way to improve myappearance except to ask Mr Bekku to re-tie myobi a little higher, to take away some of my sadlook.

At the Ichiriki, a maid took me upstairs to thesame room where Nobu had met with me on thenight Gion was closing. This must mean thatNobu wanted us to meet in the same room tocelebrate becoming my danna – though itwouldn’t be a celebration for me. But it wouldbe a fine night for Nobu and I would try not tospoil it.I knelt at one end of the table, careful toposition myself so that Nobu could pour sakeusing his one arm. Could it really be that onlyfive and a half years had passed since our lastevening together in this room?. So many peoplehad come and gone; so many people I’d onceknown were now dead.Was this the life I’d come back to Gion to lead?.It was just as Mameha had once told me: wedon’t become geisha because we want our livesto be happy; we become geisha because wehave no choice. If my mother had lived, I mighthave been a wife and mother in Yoroido, by thesea, thinking of Kyoto as a faraway place wherethe fish were sent.After ten or fifteen minutes waiting for Nobu, Ibegan to wonder if he was really coming. I knewI shouldn’t do it but I lay my head down on thetable to rest. I’d slept badly these last fewnights.I didn’t fall asleep, but I lost myself for a time inmy sadness. And then I had a dream. I dreamtthat I felt the Chairman’s hand touching myshoulder. I knew it was the Chairman’s handbecause when I opened my eyes he was there.For a moment I wondered if I was really awake;but it wasn’t a dream. The Chairman was sittingexactly where I’d expected Nobu to sit.“Mr Nobu is… quite all right, is he?,” I said.“Oh yes,” said the Chairman. “Quite all right. Buthe won’t be coming this evening.”I was relieved to hear this; but at the same timeI was ashamed. I remembered how theChairman had seen me on Amami, with MinisterSato on top of me with his pants down.“May I please say, Chairman,” I began assteadily as I could, “that my behaviour onAmami…”“I know what you’re thinking, Sayuri. But Ihaven’t come here to ask for your apology. Sitquietly a moment. I want to tell you aboutsomething that happened a long time ago.”

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“Chairman, I feel so confused,” I managed tosay. “Please forgive me, but…”“Just listen,” said the Chairman. “One day,eighteen years ago, I was with a geisha andsome friends, taking a walk by the ShirakawaStream on our way to the theatre.”I took the Chairman’s handkerchief from my obiand silently put it on the table.“Where did you get this?.”“Chairman,” I said, “all these years I’vewondered if you knew I was the little girl you’dspoken to. You gave me your handkerchief onthe way to see the play Shibaraku.”“Do you mean to say… even when you were anapprentice, you knew that I was the man who’dspoken to you?.”“I recognized the Chairman the moment I sawhim again at the sumo exhibition. But I’mamazed the Chairman remembered me.”“Well, maybe you should look at yourself in themirror sometimes, Sayuri. Your eyes… I can’texplain it. I spend so much of my time talking tomen who are never quite telling me the truth;and here was a girl who let me look into hereyes and see straight into her.”And then the Chairman interrupted himself.“Didin’t you ever wonder why Mameha becameyour Older Sister?,” he asked me.“Mameha?. What does Mameha have to do withall this?.”“Sayuri, I am the one who asked Mameha tolook after you. I told her about a beautifulyoung girl I’d met, with amazing gray eyes. Iasked her to help you if she ever met you inGion. And she did meet you. It was two yearslater, but Mameha remembered. You wouldcertainly never have become a geisha withouther help.”It’s almost impossible to describe the effect theChairman’s words had on me. I’d alwaysthought that Mameha’s reason for helping mewas personal – to get rid of Hatsumomobecause she hated her. So Mameha wassuddenly a different woman in my eyes, and Iwas a different woman too.“Chairman, forgive me, but I wish that at sometime years ago you could have told me about…all of this. I can’t say how much it would havemeant to me.”“There’s a reason why I never could, Sayuri, andwhy I had to tell Mameha not to say anything,either. The reason is Nobu. There’s something Iwant to discuss with you,” he continued. “It’ssomething Pumpkin said after she took me downto the theatre on Amami. I was extremely angrywith her, and I demanded to know why she’ddone it. For a long time she wouldn’t sayanything. Then she told me something thatmade no sense at first. She said you’d asked herto bring Nobu.”“Chairman, please,” I began unsteadily. “Imade such a terrible mistake…”“All right, Sayuri,” he said. “Now you mustunderstand my relationship with Nobu. Then it

will be clear why I’ve treated you as I have overthe years and it will also be clear why I’ve comehere tonight.”And then the Chairman told me all the things Ialready knew from magazines; how Nobu savedIwamura Electric in the 1920s, and how Nobuwas like a brother to him.“One day when I’d known you only a shorttime,” he said, “Nobu brought you a present of acomb, and gave it to you in front of everyone atthe party. That was when I realized how stronghis feelings for you were. Well, I knew in amoment that I couldn’t take away from him thething he so clearly wanted…”“I like Nobu very much,” I said, “but what I didon Amami… What I did on Amami, I did becauseof my feelings for you, Chairman. Every step Ihave taken in my life since I was a child in Gion,I have taken in the hope of bringing myselfcloser to you.”“Look at me, Sayuri.”I wanted to do as the Chairman asked, but Icouldn’t.“When I saw you there with the Minister, youhad a look in your eyes just like the one I sawso many years ago at the Shirakawa Stream.You seemed so desperate, as if you mightdrown if someone didn’t save you. AfterPumpkin told me you had intended Nobu to seeyou with the Minister, I decided to tell him whatI’d seen. And when he reacted so angrily… well,if Nobu couldn’t forgive you for what you’ddone, it was clear to me that he was never trulythe man for you. Nobu has given you up, Sayuri.So I’ve taken nothing away from him.”I was still struggling to understand what washappening to me and what I ought to do or saywhen the Chairman pulled me close to him andkissed me. It may surprise you to hear that thiswas the first time in my life that anyone hadreally kissed me. General Tottori had sometimespressed his lips against mine when he was mydanna, but there was so little love in it that Iwondered if he just needed somewhere to resthis face.

Chapter 14 New York

Now, nearly forty years later, I sit here in NewYork and remember that evening with theChairman as the moment when I finally stoppedfighting against the stream of my life. It wasalso the end of my career as a geisha. Thereason is that the Chairman wanted to keep meaway from Nobu, who now hated me. So hepaid Mother a very large sum of money eachmonth to let me stop work as a geisha.The Chairman certainly wasn’t going to marryme; he was already married. I still lived in theokiya, but I spent most of my time in a lovelyhouse that the Chairman bought in thenortheast of Kyoto. It was supposed to be forguests of Iwamura Electric, but the Chairman

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and I spent three or four evevnings a weektogether there.During the day I no longer went to geishaschool or visited the teahouses, but I sawMameha very often. We had tea togetherseveral times a week. After all she’d done for mesince I was a child, and the special role she’dplayed in my relationship with the Chairman, Ifelt a debt to her that I could never repay.I expected that this would be my life,entertaining the Chairman in the evenings andoccupying myself during the day in any way Icould. But in the fall of 1952, I accompanied theChairman on his second trip to the UnitedStates. It changed my life.The Chairman said that on his previous visit toAmerica he’d understood real wealth for thefirst time. Most Japanese at this time hadelectricity only during certain hours, forexample, but the lights in American towns, theChairman told me, the movie theatres were asgrand as our National Theatre.But he was most amazed by the fact that everyfamily in the United States owned a refrigerator.This could be bought with an average worker’smonthly salary. In Japan, a worker neededfifteen months’ salary to buy such a thing; fewfamilies could afford it.Then when I looked out of the window of myroom at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel and sawbuildings like mountains around me, andsmooth, clean streets below, I had the feeling Iwas seeing a world in which anything waspossible.Over the next three years I travelled with theChairman twice more to the United States.When he was out on business during the day,my maid and I went to museums andrestaurants. We even found one of the newJapanese restaurants in New York. I’d knownthe manager well in Gion before the war.During lunch one afternoon I found myself in aprivate room in the back of the restaurant,entertaining a number of men I hadn’t seen inyears – the Vice President of the NipponTelephone Company, the new JapaneseAmbassador, and a Professor from KyotoUniversity. It was almost like being back in Gionagain.In the summer of 1956 the Chairman and I weresitting outdoors after dinner at IwamuraElectric’s house in northeast Kyoto. TheChairman had just told me that he had a plan toopen a branch of his company in New York.There was something I’d wanted to discuss withhim for some time and this news gave me mychance.“I keep thinking of the Ichiriki Teahouse,” Ibegan, “and truthfully, I’m beginning to realizehow much I miss entertaining.”The Chairman just took a bite of his ice-cremand then put his spoon down on the dish again.“Of course, I can never go back to work inGion,” I continued. “I know that perfectly well.

But I wonder, Danna-sama… isn’t there a placefor a small teahouse in New York City?.”“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” hesaid. “There’s no reason why you should want toleave Japan.”“It’s true that leaving Japan would be a bigchange. But now that Danna-sama will bespending more and more of his time in theUnited Sates…”In August of that same year, I moved to NewYork City to start my own very small teahousefor Japanese businessmen and politicianstravelling through the United States. Of course,Mother tried to make sure that my new businessin New York would be controlled by the Nittaokiya, but the Chairman refused to consider anysuch arrangement. Mother had power over meas long as I remained in Gion, but I broke myties with her by leaving. The Chairman sent intwo of his accountants to make sure thatMother gave me every last yen that I’d earned.New York is an exciting city. I felt at least asmuch at home as I ever did in Gion. In fact, as Ilook back, the many long weeks I’ve spent herewith the Chairman have made my life in theUnited States even fuller and happier that it wasin Japan.My little teahouse, on the second floor of an oldclub off Fifth Avenue, was successful from thebeginning. A number of geisha have come fromGion to work with me there, and even Mamehasometimes visits.I never go back to Gion; I think I’d be disturbedby all the changes. After Mother’s death, a fewyears ago, the Nitta okiya was pulled downand replaced by a bookshop with twoapartments above it.On his last visit to New York City, the Chairmanand I took a walk through Central Park. Hestood with his two weak, old hands on hiswalking stick, and his eyes closed, and hebreathed in deeply the memories of the past.“Sometimes,” he sighed, “I think the things Iremember are more real than the things I see.”We went back to my apartment and drank fromeach other until I was full of him and he was fullof me. The Chairman died only a few monthslater.Everything that ever happened to me was like astream falling over rocks, down, down, until itreached the ocean – the Chairman. I’ve lived mylife again just telling it to you.It’s true that when I cross Park Avenue, I noticehow strange everything is. The yellow taxis thatgo rushing past, making that noise with theirloud horns; the women in their business suits,who look so surprised to see a little oldJapanese woman standing on the street cornerin a kimono. But, really, would Yoroido seemless strange if I went back there again?.

Whatever our struggles, and whether we sink orswim, our world is no more permanent than awave rising on the ocean. THE END