Another “Noriko-san”

It was 55 years ago in April, just one year after the Third Middle East War, also known as the Six-Day War, when I embarked from the port of Yokohama and set sail for Kibbutz in Israel, via Siberia. Back then there was a private organization in Japan called the Kibbutz Association, which sent several dozen young Japanese, like myself, to Kibbutz for training every year. At 18 years old, fresh out of high school, I was chosen to be one of these members. My daily routine consisted of working six hours in an avocado field and dedicating two hours to learning Hebrew. Those two years were truly a blessing in my life.

When I first arrived and introduced myself in town, I was greeted with warm smiles and open arms. Everyone would affectionately call out, "Noriko-saaaan," with an emphasis on the "ri" and a drawn-out "a" in "san." I later learned this was due to a book titled "Noriko-San: Girl of Japan." It was a photo-book that consisted of two parts: a collection of 40 monochrome photos, supposedly taken in Japan during the 1950s, and accompanying text by Astrid Lindgren, translated into Hebrew by the Israeli writer Leah Goldberg.

Upon seeing the book, I was not so much surprised as I was perplexed. The reason being, the 40 photos did not accurately depict Japanese life. Instead, they showcased a series of unusual topics like flying carp (koinobori), tiered doll stands (hinadan), portable shrines (mikoshi), children at play in their best clothes, and Japanese gardens with serene ponds and stone lanterns. It is a fantasy story that culminates in a gesture of international goodwill, as Noriko and a young girl, Eva, visiting from Sweden exchanged clothes.

Noriko and I were roughly the same age and shared a similar plump, round-faced appearance. Consequently, during my time in Israel, I was frequently asked if I was the real Noriko-saaan. Each time, I had to deny it, though I couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. The book itself didn't evoke any nostalgia for me, but the Noriko-saaan I encountered on every page seemed to have embedded herself in my heart without me realizing it.