Page 173 - Dark Matter Women Witnessing

Hideki did no better in his abbreviated season. And Sumiko's mother died embittered.

For fisherfolk of tiny Kaiyono, who could barely make ends meet, what was the point in

self-imposed hardship if urbanites everywhere indulged in water-polluting, ozone-killing

extravagances with snail-massacring consequences?

We aren't blameless, said Sumiko. She was up at four each morning, checking the

ocean's mood. She cleaned and checked her gear until the co-op leader's voice

boomed over the village loudspeaker (Dive Time is 9 to 10 a.m., please respect the firm

time limit!!), sent Namako to school and hurried to the boat with the ama who were her

kin and whichever husband happened to be free to skipper. For a blissful hour it was

almost as if nothing had changed since her girlhood. The ocean picked them up, waves

loosened them all over — except the tension in their bellies when they delved into prime

hiding spots and found nothing. In the amagoya, a doddering lean-to, they couldn't dally

or the co-op might think they'd bent the rules. Off then for the weighing, with talk of how

the ocean had cured their ear infections, cramps, or constipation, and the ama

pretended not to pay attention when the men at the co-op announced the weight of their

slimming catch.

In the evening, Sumiko doted on Namako, read up on global warming, worried about

snails, paced beside the ocean, and joined the other ama in badgering the co-op to beg

the government again. She was confident they'd come around. After all, Namako was

good in school and a strong swimmer. When young people started leaving Kaiyono to

be white-collar workers and urban housewives, Sumiko was too optimistic to notice.