The Phone Booth in Mr. Hirota's Garden

A Japanese boy named Makio spends time each morning with neighbour, Mr. Hirota, in his garden. Together they watch for Makio’s dad and Mr. Hirota’s daughter Fumiko working on the daily catch of fish on the beach below. The waves whisper as they watch,

O-hi-o.

O-hi-o.

O-hi-o.

Makio always returned the greeting.

“Ohayo gozaimasu, ocean.”*

[*A polite form of the greeting “Good morning”]

One day, the whisper becomes a roar, and a tsunami sweeps in over their beach and the surrounding land. Much property is destroyed, many lives are lost, including those of Fumiko and Makio’s father. “Silence hung over the village like a dark, heavy cloud.”

Some time passes. A disconsolate Makio watches out the window and is surprised to see Mr. Hirota busy with wood and tools, building – a phone booth? That is indeed what is taking shape in the garden.

From the telephone inside this unexpected structure, Mr. Hirota places a call to Fumiko, telling her that he misses her.

Mr. Hirota visited his phone booth every day.

Soon the other villagers did too. Their voices floated on the wind.

“Hello, cousin. Today I fixed the boat. I will fish again soon.”

“Hello, Mom, I planted a tree for you today. A maple. Your favorite.”
“Sister, how are you? I rode your bike today. It fits me now.”

“Hello my love. I painted our bedroom in your favorite shade of blue.”

Makio eventually calls his father on this phone to nowhere, a phone which is clearly connecting the survivors to their dead loved ones. The grief exhibited is palpable, but Mr. Hirota’s phone booth provides a way to ease the sadness by making it possible to give words to fond memories.

Newfoundland author Heather Smith was inspired to write this affecting story about dealing with the loss experienced in a disaster after hearing an NPR radio programme about this “phone of the wind” which was actually built after a tsunami hit the coastal town of Otsuchi, Japan. Simple declarative sentences take readers through the event, itself, and the hurt and healing which followed. By way of Makio’s words and demeanor, readers come to understand the power of Mr. Hirota’s actions.

Illustrator Rachel Wada is of Japanese-Canadian descent and lives in Vancouver. Using traditional Japanese techniques, she has delivered pages in somber tones of grey, brown and mustard and strong black ink line which echo the look of woodblock prints. The images are often less than naturalistic, but the boots walking along amongst the wrack on the ocean shore, the blood-orange of the setting sun on the water, the human figures often alone on the page, truly evoke the sadness of the situation.

This unusual story is probably not for every collection – it is not going to fly off the shelves like a new Scaredy Squirrel – but with an introduction from a parent, teacher or librarian, The Phone Booth in Mr. Hirota’s Garden will provide much material for thought and discussion. The artwork will also give inspiration to budding illustrators of all ages.