Spirit of Aloha | Articles | Under the Hula Moon | November/December 2004

Under the Hula Moon
By: JOCELYN FUJII

No Bed of Roses

Bonsai master Kanehiro Nishizaki nurses a juniper back to health. PHOTO: BRETT UPRICHARD

In Kanehiro Nishizaki’s Windward O‘ahu yard, the mango tree hangs low and wide, like a monkeypod, and the starfruit tree is weighted, at head level, with dozens of juicy specimens the size of small footballs. The trees stand at opposite ends of a property lined with weathered redwood tables. On these tables appear rows of bonsai plants, dwarfed trees and shrubs raised in shallow pots and trays. Some of these plants have left his care and been returned to their owners, after being nursed back to health by Nishizaki, a master in the art of bonsai.

One of my first questions when I visited Nishizaki concerned the condition of a friend’s prized bonsai, which, having languished, was returned weeks ago to the bonsai doctor for special care. Nishizaki’s face fell. “Terrible, terrible,” he reported. “Very bad. Critical condition.” A stray cat had urinated on the poor juniper, propelling Nishizaki into bonsai triage. We peered at the ghostly white branches of the small, frail tree and looked hopefully at the man who controlled its destiny. “But it will be fine,” he said finally. “It will take time, but it will recover.”

As bonsai enthusiasts discover early, it’s no bed of roses raising these delicate botanical creations. Struggle is a given, both on the part of the grower, who is the parent, and the plant, which is forced (some say coaxed, some say tortured) into obedience with clippers and training wires. The struggle creates character in carefully orchestrated ways, such as the manner in which the root system looks and works, the proportion and asymmetry of the branches, and even such fine details as the angle of the needle to the branch. “You train the branches to grow crooked,” he says. “You must have an artistic feeling, but there’s a certain set of rules to follow.”

The art of bonsai has struggled, too. While bonsai came to Hawai‘i with the first Japanese immigrants in 1868, nearly all the plants were destroyed or abandoned following Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. According to the archives of the Hawai‘i Bonsai Association, one man, Soboku Nishihara, bravely put his safety on the line by collecting the abandoned plants and caring for them. Eventually the collection found its way to Haruo Kaneshiro, “the father of bonsai in Hawai‘i,” who died in 1991. His daughter, Muriel Kaneshiro, says her father “was devoted to bonsai, that was his life,” and that a bonsai arboretum, the Haruo Kaneshiro Tropical Conservatory in Washington, D.C., is a part of his legacy .

Bonsai artists like Kanehiro Nishizaki represent the seasoned veterans of the current generation of enthusiasts. He moved to Hawai‘i 38 years ago, worked in a Japanese restaurant and took up bonsai as a hobby. Today, he tends his nursery and teaches once a month at his home. Students learn that the world’s oldest bonsai is reportedly 700 years old, and some bonsai are so precious they have been valued at as much as $1 million

“Short temper better,” he says in English, referring to the bonsai temperament. Then, once again through a translator: “If you have a short temper and just start to learn bonsai, you would become a perfect man, because the bonsai would control your temper. If you cut a branch, you have to wait. Yet, if you have a generous mind and are indecisive, and you wait to see how it goes, it will be too late.

�Bonsai has such depth in terms of discovery,� he continues. �Even though I�ve been doing this for more than 25 years, even if I�m 80 years old, I am very sure I will still be learning.�

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