The Buddha in the Attic

This was our contribution to the war effort, we were told. An opportunity for us to prove our loyalty.

EVERY EVENING, at dusk, we began burning our things: old bank statements and diaries, Buddhist family altars, wooden

THE DAY of our departure

chopsticks, paper lanterns, photographs of our unsmiling relatives back home in the village in their strange country clothes.

Most of us left speaking only English, so as not to anger the crowds that had gathered to watch us go.

A few of us left in disgust, and had no desire to ever come back.

And even though we saw the darkness coming we said nothing and let them dream on.

And we knew it would only be a matter of time until all traces of us were gone.

WE FELT CLOSER to our husbands, now, than we ever had before.