<Begin Segment 4>

MA: And how many children were in your family? How many siblings did you have?

IK: My brother and I, yeah, my brother and I were born by USC, we were both delivered b the same midwife. My sister was born in Manzanar, and that was the reason my mother couldn't go to Amache when her mother was dying of stomach cancer. 'Cause she was giving birth to my (sister), and I guess it was a very difficult delivery, 'cause they had to do a c-section, which, in those days, it was very difficult. And because of that, she couldn't have any more kids. Whereas I think now, people do have kids, even with c-sections. So there must be some other medical technology that they do. And so my sister really doesn't remember anything. I remember very little, 'cause I was two and a half and five. But she doesn't remember anything.

MA: You mentioned on the phone that you had some sort of flashes of memory, though?

IK: Uh-huh. And I know that they're mine -- because sometimes it's very hard. You're not sure if they're your memories or it's because somebody told you and you just kind of absorbed it. But I know that certain memories are strictly mine because they are very sense oriented. So the sense of touch I do remember. I can feel the, I must have been outside during some, when a sandstorm kicked up, because I can remember the feeling on my legs, very, very prickly. I remember during a blackout -- I guess my mother must have always given me a bath in one of those little tubs, 'cause to go to the communal one, it would be more difficult for her to bathe me and her and all this. And so I remember one blackout, I was sitting in a tub, and one of my aunt's friends, who was probably in a nearby barrack, came over during the blackout. And I remember -- and she wore glasses, and she still does -- and I remember seeing, because it was dark, I remember seeing the reflection, probably one candle, but it reflects double. And so my mother had lit a candle during the blackout. And so I remember her face smiling at me, and I see the two candles, one in each lens. So I remember that. And I remember... the only food that I remember, I always thought that we only had one plate, but my husband told me that was only at the beginning, that later on we had separate plates for things. But I just remember going, plop, plop, plop, as you walk along. And I just remembered that when the hot rice was one of the last, then the red jell-o went right on top. And that's what I remember. My husband, being ten when they went in, he remembered a whole lot of stuff about food. That's probably about it. Whenever people ask me about memories, the blackout and the sandstorm and the jell-o.

Oh, and I do remember one thing, too. I did go to preschool. It was kind of like pre-k kindergarten. 'Cause my mother took me to see the teacher, and I was, I don't know if I was two and a half or three, 'cause maybe I was three by this time. But the story she tells me is that she took me to see the kindergarten teacher because she wanted me to be in school but I was too young, and the teacher says, "Well, she looks intelligent," so she let me in, kind of a thing. And I remember there was one boy, I used to know his name years and years and years ago. And I remember thinking that he was my boyfriend, 'cause we would always walk to wherever the schoolroom was. And I do remember one time -- and I know this is, again, my own, because I remember seeing... I was in the toilet. And I guess because we were really little, three or four, he was probably four, you don't think anything of it. I'm sitting on the toilet doing my thing, and he's standing and just waiting for me, and I guess we were talking, 'cause he's standing there watching me. [Laughs] So I know no one told me that story. So it's that kind of stuff. Nothing what people would want to hear about, conditions and all that. I don't really know what the conditions were.

<End Segment 4> - Copyright © 2009 Densho. All Rights Reserved.