t has led you to this decision . . ." I began, "but I can't 
express how grateful I am-" 

"Don't be grateful just yet," she interrupted. "Nothing has happened. You'd better tell me what 
Mrs. Nitta said to you after my visit yesterday." 

"Well," I said, "I think Mother was a little confused about why you've taken notice of me . . . 
and to tell the truth, so am I." I hoped Mameha would say something, but she didn't. "As for 
Hatsumomo-" 

"Don't even waste your time thinking about what she says. You already know she'd be 
thrilled to see you fail, just as Mrs. Nitta would." 

"I don't understand why Mother should want me to fail," I said, 'considering she'll make more 
money if I succeed." 

"Except that if you pay back your debts by the age of twenty, she'll owe me a good deal of 
money. I made a sort of bet with her yesterday," Mameha said, while a maid served us tea. "I 
wouldn't have made the bet unless I felt certain you would succeed. But if I'm going to be 
your older sister, you may as well know that I have very strict terms." 

I expected her to tell them to me, but she only glowered and said: 

"Really, Chiyo, you must stop blowing on your tea that way. You look like a peasant! Leave it 
on the table until it's cool enough to drink." 

"I'm sorry," I said. "I wasn't aware I was doing it." 


"It's time you were; a geisha must be very careful about the image she presents to the world. 
Now, as I say, I have very strict terms. To begin with, I expect you to do what I ask without 
questioning me or doubting me in any way. I know you've disobeyed Hatsumomo and Mrs. 
Nitta from time to time. You may think that's understandable; but if you ask me, you should 
have been more obedient in the first place and perhaps none of these unfortunate things 
would ever have happened to you." 

Mameha was quite right. The world has changed a good deal since; but when I was a child, a 
girl who disobeyed her elders was soon put in her place. 

"Several years ago I took on two new younger sisters," Mameha continued. "One worked 
very hard, but the other slacked off. I brought her here to my apartment one day and 
explained that I wouldn't tolerate her making a fool of me any longer, but it had no effect. The 
following month I told her to go and find herself a new older sister." 

"Mameha-san, I promise you, such a thing will never happen with me," I said. "Thanks to 
you, I feel like a ship encountering its first taste of the ocean. I would never forgive myself for 
disappointing you." 

"Yes, well, that's all fine, but I'm not just talking about how hard you work. You'll have to be 
careful not to let Hatsumomo trick you. And for heaven's sake, don't do anything to make 
your debts worse than they are. Don't break even a teacup!" 

I promised her I wouldn't; but I must confess that when I thought of Hatsumomo tricking me 
again . . . well, I wasn't sure how I could defend myself if she tried. 

"There's one more thing," Mameha said. "Whatever you and I discuss must be kept private. 
You are never to tell any of it to Hatsumomo. Even if we've only talked about the weather, do 
you understand? If Hatsumomo asks what I said, you must tell her, 'Oh, Hatsumomo-san, 
Mameha-san never says anything of interest! As soon as I've heard it, it slips right out of my 
mind. She's the dullest person alive!'" 

I told Mameha I understood. 

"Hatsumomo is quite clever," she went on. "If you give her the slightest hint, you'll be 
surprised how much she'll figure out on her own." 

Suddenly, Mameha leaned toward me and said in an angry voice, "What were you two 
talking about yesterday when I saw you on the street together?" 

"Nothing, ma'am!" I said. And though she went on glaring at me, I was so shocked I couldn't 
say anything further. 

"What do you mean, nothing? You'd better answer me, you stupid little girl, or I'll pour ink in 
your ear tonight while you're sleeping!" 

It took me a moment to understand that Mameha was trying to do an imitation of 
Hatsumomo. I'm afraid it wasn't a very good imitation, but now that I understood what she 
was doing, I said, "Honestly, Hatsumomo-san, Mameha-san is always saying the dullest 
things! I can never remember a single one of them. They just melt away like snowflakes. Are 
you quite sure you saw us talking yesterday? Because if we talked at all, I can hardly 
remember it. . . ." 

Mameha went on for a time, doing her poor imitation of Hatsumomo, and at the end said I 
had done an adequate job. I wasn't as confident as she was. Being questioned by Mameha, 


even when she was trying to act like Hatsumomo, wasn't the same thing as keeping up a 
facade in front of Hatsumomo herself. 

In the two years since Mother had put an end to my lessons, I'd forgotten much of what I'd 
learned. And I hadn't learned much to begin with, since my mind had been occupied with 
other things. This is why, when I went back to the school after Mameha agreed to be my 
older sister, I honestly felt I was beginning my lessons for the very first time. 

I was twelve years old by then, and nearly as tall as Mameha. Having grown older may seem 
like an advantage, but I can assure you it wasn't. Most of the girls at the school had begun 
their studies much younger, in some cases at the traditional age of three years and three 
days. Those few who'd started as young as this were mostly the daughters of geisha 
themselves, and had been raised in such a way that dance and tea ceremony formed as 
much a part of their daily life as swimming in the pond had for me. 

I know I've described something of what it was like to study shamisen with Teacher Mouse. 
But a geisha must study a great many arts besides shamisen. And in fact, the "gei" of 
"geisha" means "arts," so the word "geisha" really means "artisan" or "artist." My first lesson 
in the morning was in a kind of small drum we call tsutsumi. You may wonder why a geisha 
should bother learning drums, but the answer is very simple. In a banquet or any sort of 
informal gathering in Gion, geisha usually dance to nothing more than the accompaniment of 
a shamisen and perhaps a singer. But for stage performances, such as Dances of the Old 
Capital every spring, six or more shamisen players join together as an ensemble, backed by 
various types of drums and also a Japanese flute we call fue. So you see, a geisha must try 
her hand at all of these instruments, even though eventually she'll be encouraged to 
specialize in one or two. 

As I say, my early-morning lesson was in the little drum we call tsutsumi, which is played in a 
kneeling position like all the other musical instruments we studied. Tsutsumi is different from 
the other drums because it's held on the shoulder and played with the hand, unlike the larger 
okaiva, which rests on the thigh, or the largest drum of all, called taiho, which sits edgewise 
on a stand and is struck with fat drumsticks. I studied them all at one time or other. A drum 
may seem like an instrument even a child can play, but actually there are various ways of 
striking each of them, such as-for the big taiko-bringing the arm across the body and then 
swinging the drumstick backhand, you might say, which we call uchikomi; or striking with one 
arm while bringing the other up at the same moment, which we call sarashi. There are other 
methods as well, and each produces a different sound, but only after a great deal of practice. 
On top of this, the orchestra is always in view of the public, so all these movements must be 
graceful and attractive, as well as being in unison-with the other players. Half the work is in 
making the right sound; the other half is in doing it the proper way. 

Following drums, my next lesson of the morning was in Japanese flute, and after that in 
shamisen. The method in studying any of these instruments was more or less the same. The 
teacher began by playing something, and then the students tried to play it back. On occasion 
we sounded like a band of animals at the zoo, but not often, because the teachers were 
careful to begin simply. For example, in my first lesson on the flute, the teacher played a 
single note and we tried one at a time to play it back. Even after only one note, the teacher 
still found plenty to say. 

"So-and-so, you must keep your little finger down, not up in the air. And you, Such-and-such, 
does your flute smell bad? Well then, why do you wrinkle your nose that way!" 

She was very strict, like most of the teachers, and naturally we were afraid of making 
mistakes. It wasn't uncommon for her to take the flute from some poor girl in order to hit her 
on the shoulder with it. 


After drums, flute, and shamisen, my next lesson was usually in singing. We often sing at 
parties in Japan; and of course, parties are mostly what men come to Gion for. But even if a 
girl can't hold a tune and will never be asked to perform in front of others, she must still study 
singing to help her understand dance. This is because the dances are set to particular pieces 
of music, often performed by a singer accompanying herself on the shamisen. 

There are many different types of songs-oh, far more than I could possibly count-but in our 
lessons we studied five different kinds. Some were popular ballads; some were long pieces 
from Kabuki theater telling a story; others were something like a short musical poem. It would 
be senseless for me to try describing these songs. But let me say that while I find most of 
them enchanting, foreigners often seem to think they sound more like cats wailing in a 
temple yard than music. It is true that traditional Japanese singing involves a good deal of 
warbling and is often sung so far back in the throat that the sound comes out from the nose 
rather than the mouth. But it's only a matter of what you're acc