I'm in the process of re-issuing the non-fiction book Suteindo Garasu: Stained Glass the third book in the American Family in Japan series that I wrote back in the 1980s that began with Gaijin! Gaijin! and MoIchido: Once more. Suteindo Garasu had two themes: my culture shock upon returning to America during a time of 20% unemployment in Oregon and a three year stint of doing business as a stained glass artisan with Japan. To make a comparison it was like a ride on the world's largest roller coaster when you are prone to vertigo.
When we returned to Oregon after the two years in Japan we were fortunate in that Lora was able to secure one of the two elementary jobs that opened up in the fall of 1979 in Springfield. That meant the Fenter family wouldn't starve and we could make our house payments if I didn't have a job. And I had orders for two stained glass commissions back in Isahaya and a set of small windows for a youth center in Nagasaki. They two customers would share my plane ticket. That trip resulted in nearly three years of irregular crossings between Springfield and Nagasaki with crates of stained glass windows and lamps. In Nagasaki I stayed at The Nagai Youth Center run by Jesuit Priest Father Aguilar. His original dream of a project in Nagasaki was to build a chapel on Mount Unzen. During my trips to Nagasaki he told me about that and shared many stories about the history of the Christian persecution during the closure of Japan to the outside world during from mid 1600 to mid 1800. When the Tokugawa government closed Japan to the outside world it also attempted to purge the country of the growing Christian influence which stemmed primarily from Kyushu.
Here is an excerpt from my book Stained Glass about an almost fulfillment of Father Aguilar's Dream.
When
I got to the Center, Aguilar was excited. During the fall, they had begun
construction on the chapel at Unzen. “I think now is the time to talk to them
about Stained Glass,” he said.
“I
was in hopes that we could get in on the talks before they had actually begun,”
I said.
“Well
it has been a very busy fall,” he apologized. “As you know the Holy Father,
Pope John Paul will visit Nagasaki in February. This has taken most of the time
of the priest in charge of the project. It has been impossible to talk to him
at length, but he has agreed in principal that you should do the stained glass
for it eventually.”
“How
would I go about arranging something?”
“First
I think we should go there and look at the progress,” he said. “If you have
some time this trip we can go. Perhaps my sister and niece would like to go
there too.”
He
had the next morning free, and he asked his sister and niece if they would like
to drive to Unzen. The niece was delighted. The sister wasn’t interested.
“It
will be even colder up there, than it is here,” she said in Spanish.
“But
my dear sister, there will be sun shining. As the air warms, it rises. It will
be warm on the slopes of the mountain tomorrow morning,” Aguilar told her.
“In
my experience, while it is true warm air rises, the tops of mountains tend to
be freezing,” she continued.
By
nine the next morning we were on our way to Unzen. Aunt Rosario stayed at the
Center.
The
air was crystal clear and Unzen loomed proudly on the far side of the Sea of
Chijiwa. The volcanic peak was snowcapped, but the lower slopes were bare.
Aguilar
switched seamlessly between Spanish and English as he visited with Maria Eleana
and me while we drove along the seaside, through the resort town of Obama and
up the switchbacks of the steep mountain, which was not unlike Mt. Fuji in
appearance. The cone and its foothills formed the Shimabara Peninsula. On the
outskirts of Unzen town we pulled off the pavement onto a rutted muddy drive
several hundred feet long and pulled up next to where cement mixer trucks were
pouring foundations. Aguilar spoke briefly with a hard hatted worker who led us
to a prefab metal building. The construction shack was crammed with drawing
boards, several desks, a telephone and a table with rolls of drawings. The
chapel would look like a miniature cathedral with a tall spire on the entrance
end. It would be dedicated in May or June.
The
engineer described the details of the chapel to Aguilar who asked many
questions. Finally there was a pause, and the engineer asked Aguilar a
question. Aguilar began. I heard the word “suteindo
garasu, meka (maker), watashi no
chapel
(my chapel), ojozu (very
skillful).
The
engineer listened intently then cocked his head about 45 degrees and sucked in
his breath sharply, “Sahhhh”.
The
engineer spoke and I could hear Kumomoto Suteindo Garasu, the name of a company
in Kumomoto that made an awful, garish, plastic overlay, imitation glass that
faded in about two years if exposed to the sun.
We
left not long afterward with a copy of the blueprint page showing the windows
and their dimensions. I also took several photos of the architectural concept
drawing.
We
walked up the road a few more yards to see through a break in the hills. From
that point we could look down to the east to the Ariake Sea. “This spot was
chosen because from here you can see the location of Hara Jo where Amakusa
Shiro and his Christian ronin and farmers
held off the Imperial Army until the Dutch navy helped by
bombarding it from the sea and broke down the defenses,” Aguilar explained.
We
drove on into town and stopped at one of the large hotels for lunch. During
that lunch Aguilar struck up a conversation with one of the hotel managers who
came to the table. The manager expressed the joy the hotel owners had about the
church and what it would mean to them in terms of tourism.
After
lunch, Aguilar parked in the lot of another huge hotel and the three of us
walked up the hillside.
“Here
is the site of the worst of our Christian persecutions,” he said. We walked to
a jumble of rocks lying in a pool about thirty feet across. On the rocks above
the pool stood a concrete cross about four feet high with arms three feet wide.
Kanji
marks were made almost illegible by the lichen growing over them.
“To
this pool men and women from Nagasaki were brought in the winter, if they were
believed to be Christian. They were told by the soldiers that if they would
cast away their belief, they could return to Nagasaki unharmed. If not, they
were stripped and alternately dipped into the scalding water and then into the
snow bank. Many did not survive that torture. Those who did were returned to
Nagasaki to be executed by crucifixion,” he explained.
“That
is why this chapel is so important, people come from all over the world to see
this place, but there is no signboard, there is no book, there is nothing to
commemorate it here at the site of that awful time.”
It
was difficult for Aguilar to take much time away from the Center and we were
running late, so instead of taking the main road back down the mountain he
drove to the end of the main street and entered a narrow paved lane that switch
backed down the back side of the mountain. His old Toyota station wagon managed
it fine, but I prayed that
the brakes were in good working order. It took only a few minutes
to get to a cutoff about two miles on the Nagasaki side of Obama. There was no
traffic, no buses or trucks to impede our progress. It was a single lane road
for the most part with an occasional cut out. At each hairpin curve a large
parabolic mirror let the driver know if a vehicle approached.
Unzen
had received some snow in December, but it had melted off
wherever the sun hit it. The narrow road
was completely clear of snow.
“The
problem is we have no funds to put things like real stained glass in projects
such as this. The engineer said they were thinking of putting in the imitation
glass from Kumomoto.”
“It
is a shame they plan to put in that imitation crap,” I said. “It will lose its
color in a couple of years, and from what I hear it is more expensive than I am
with the real thing.”
“Ah,
there is no comparison,” he said. “This memorial chapel deserves the real
stained glass. But, alas the windows are very big. I am sure the church has no
money for that much glass work. Besides, the architect or the builder is
probably a relative or friend of the maker in Kumomoto,” Aguilar explained to
Maria Eleana in Spanish and then translated into English for me.
Maria
Eleana began speaking to Aguilar. I loved the sound of her voice and of her
accent. I had grown up with Mexican-Americans in Colorado and remembered the
language to be rapid fire. Maria Eleana’s speech was slow, rich and her voice
tremendously expressive. Aguilar listened attentively as he negotiated the
curves on the winding road.
“Of
course!” he said. He threw his head back and laughed. “That is the answer. The
wealthy businessman tries to buy his salvation by donating lavishly to the
church. Maria Eleana has suggested we do it here as at home. At home if the
poor church needs stained glass the local Patron will step forward and donate
some money and his name will appear on a little bronze plate beneath as the
proud donor.”
“Do
we dare approach the hotel owners about each donating a window? Are there nine
hotels at Unzen?” I asked.
“There
are many more than that. There are at least nine large hotels and many more
smaller ones,” he said equally excitedly.
“How
would we go about it?”
“I
think first they would want to see some design. And then we would need to
arrange a meeting with the hotel association and present the idea.”
“I’ve
been thinking about the designs since you told me about this project two years
ago. At the Center don’t you have several books that have stories and paintings
of the years of persecution?”
“Yes,
I have many books on the subject.”
“I
could make a design of the fumie.”
“And
of course Oura Cathedral is an important element,” Aguilar
said.
And
Hara Jo.”
“The
trail from Nagasaki to Unzen.”
“How
about the story you told us of the boy and the charcoal?”
“St.
Dominic? Yes that would be good.”
“And
you are getting ready to receive the Pope. What if I could tie that to Urakami?”
“That
would be the entire story. The triumph of faith and human spirit over tyranny!”
He said excitedly.
Later
that afternoon Aguilar talked his sister and niece into going with us to the
school and convent at Junshin.
The
city was preparing for the first visit of a Pope to Japan. He would be in
Nagasaki from February 25 to the 28. Aguilar would give a reception for the
priests who would come from all over Japan to see their spiritual leader. He
would make several public appearances—at the Urakami Cathedral, the Martyr
Museum, and the Peace Park. His only non-public appearance would be at Junshin Women’s
College.
I began drawing
the designs that night after retiring early to my room.
The
atmosphere was perfect for such a task. The tokonoma
had
been set with a new arrangement of orchids. A very old looking, long sumie ink scroll of
a flock of Japanese canes hung on the wall behind the flower arrangement. After
I had spread my futon and moved the
portable table to the edge of it, I could use the edge of the futon as a cushion
to sit on.
Aguilar had loaned me several books from the Center, and
these I spread out before me as I tried to decide where to start. Some of the
books had block prints or ink sketches to accompany stories. Most of them had
originally been written in either Spanish or Latin. Several had been translated
into English or had short English paragraphs in the margins.
I decided to try to draw them in logical order to tell the
story and began with a woman being tested with the
fumie.
In the western room off the tatami rooms stood an
eighteen inch tall glass case which protected a
HakataNingyd a type of painted clay doll made in Fukuoka. Her
kimono
style fit those in the pictures. I used it as a model to draw the figure of a
woman. To her left stood a samurai with sword in
hand. Facing her was an official in the formal clothing of the Seventeenth
Century. Looking on from behind the woman stood a young woman.
I debated what to do about the faces. The figures were
fairly easy with the flowing kimono and stylized
clothing of the samurai, but the faces
were a problem. I didn’t want to use enamels melted into the glass if I could
avoid it. I struggled with that problem for nearly a day. I had drawn the
facial outlines with cheekbone and hairline, but no eyes, no mouth or nose. I
tried to visualize how the faces might be done as a mosaic with many pieces.
Traditionally they would be painted on with enamels and fired.
My eyes finally glazed, and I stared out the sliding glass
doors into the narrow Japanese garden. Koi fish
occasionally broke the surface of the small pond. Water rustled down the long
rock-filled course way from a small waterfall. I daydreamed. My back was tired
from sitting cross legged on the tatami bent over the
short coffee table refining the sketches. I looked away from the garden back to
the tokonoma.
The tokonoma was divided into
two sections. One half was open from the floor to the ceiling and contained the
flower arrangement and scroll. The other half of the
tokonoma
was open from about waist high to the ceiling. The lower portion was cabinetry
with drawers in which ink stone, paper, and other calligraphy paraphernalia
were kept. The open area, above the cabinet might at some time in the
future house the family shrine. That day the space contained only a simple
ceramic Japanese doll that had no face. Many Japanese dolls, especially the
paper dolls had no faces. Paper doll’s faces were made by stretching thin pure
white rice paper over a cotton base.
I erased all attempts at facial features, redrew them to
further emphasize the high cheekbone, and colored them in flesh tones without
facial detail. Somehow, it seemed fitting. If it were a Western design, it
should represent the oppression of the individual with faces that emphasized
individual features. In this case, each figure would represent the faceless
thousands rather than the individual.
The second design showed the boy,
Dominic,
hand outstretched as the soldier lay the burning
charcoal in his hand. The third showed a man strapped to a pole suspended above
the rocky, boiling pool at Unzen. Fourth was of the castle Hara Jo burning in
the background with the boy samurai/messiah Amakusa
Shiro, leading the ronin samurai and farmers
with pitchforks, fighting the imperial troops at the front gate. The fifth
design showed the woman and her three daughters being consumed by yellow flames.
The sixth design depicted a priest holding out his hand to bless a woman in
kimono
and man in traditional hakama. A stained
glass rose window glowed behind the arched roof to symbolize the Oura Church
and the return to the Church of the Kakure
Kirishitans, the Hidden Christians.
The seventh window showed a white haired man in white frock standing with arms
outstretched beneath the entry to the Urakami Cathedral. In front of him stood
a crowd of men, women and children in a combination of Western clothes and
kimono.
Two slightly smaller designs were for the front of the
church. One showed a long line of stooped prisoners with their soldier guards
winding their way up the steep slopes of Unzen. The top turret of Hara Jo
showed in the background. It was not geographically correct but was
to
represent the location of the memorial chapel that stood at a point where one
could look toward Hara Jo in one direction, Nagasaki in another direction and
the summit of Unzen in the third direction. The final design was of
a
monument at the Daimyo graveyard in
Omura, a tall rectangular stone standing perhaps fifteen feet tall and topped
with a four sided stone cap.
The stonemason
had removed a section of the original stone at the top on
one corner, carved a cross,
and
replaced and mortared the
stone to make the joint invisible. Centuries of
weathering had revealed the cut and the
cross had been discovered by archaeologists who
had carefully removed the piece of stone.
When I was satisfied with the sketches, I transferred them
to stiff 11x17 drawing
boards, colored them with special water soluble ink pencils and blended the
colors with a damp watercolor brush to create an effect as near to actual glass
coloring as possible.
Coronado's Gold by Kenneth Fenter the fifth novel in the series begun with The Run was released on Monday Sept. 23. It is now available in print and e-book on Amazon both domestically and internationally. 
