Desert Lights: Short Stories from Tucson
- Annabelle Choong
- Mar 23
- 8 min read
Updated: Mar 24
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Roadrunner
As we were walking to our car for a lunch break after some intense gem hunting in the tent — preparing to share our finds over our home-prepped bagel sandwiches — Yoko-san, our General Manager, noticed something sprint across the car park. As if by instinct, she immediately alerted Aika-san, our Production Manager, who also happens to be a huge bird lover, that there was a bird hiding between the cacti near our car.
As a Nat Geo fan myself, I was excited to see what kind of bird it was. Almost in sync, the three of us rushed toward the cacti, hoping to catch a closer look.
“Oh, I think it’s a roadrunner!”
I remembered it instantly from the Nat Geo series America’s National Parks — Saguaro National Park. These desert birds are surprisingly quick on foot, with long legs and a sharp, alert gaze — built more for sprinting than soaring.
It’s not every day you come across a bird that prefers dashing across the ground to flying through the sky. There’s something intriguing about that, isn’t there?
Having visited Tucson for quite a few years now, even Yoko-san — who’s been here more than six or seven times — had never seen a roadrunner at the event venue carpark. That made the encounter even more special. We hurried over, careful not to startle it, and managed to capture a few pictures and videos. There were some minor casualties along the way — Aika-san, in her excitement, brushed against some cacti and had to pull out the tiny needles using a gem tweezer. That’s another funny story for another time.
Back in the car, munching on our bagels, the conversation naturally shifted from gemstone talk to bird talk — especially since the roadrunner is no stranger to pop culture, thanks to a certain cartoon.
“You know, roadrunners even eat rattlesnakes.”
That fact got everyone’s attention. It’s hard to imagine — a bird taking on a snake? You’d expect it to be enormous to manage such a feat. But in reality, roadrunners are surprisingly lean, around 56–61 cm in length, with slender frames built for speed and agility.
What struck me most was the courage it takes — to face a rattlesnake in the wild when surely there must be safer options for food. But in the harsh desert environment, the roadrunner doesn’t shy away from the challenge.
It reminded me of our own approach to gem hunting here in Tucson. Inside the tent, there are countless suppliers to choose from. We could opt for the easier route — buying from dealers known for their precision cuts and dazzling selections, all beautifully laid out, ready to impress. Of course, that convenience comes at a price — these stones are often far more expensive, and rightfully so.
But we choose differently. Not just because of the cost, though it’s certainly a factor. Over the years, I’ve come to realise that we’re drawn to something beyond convenience — we value the experience. The search itself.
Rather than selecting from a perfectly curated pile, where every stone has already been chosen for its beauty, we prefer sifting through the more chaotic tables — full of variety, where hidden gems are waiting to be discovered. There’s something deeply satisfying about that moment when you spot a gem that others might have overlooked — a glimmer that catches your eye in the midst of many.
It’s not always easy — just like the roadrunner doesn’t always have an easy meal — but the effort leaves a lasting memory. Each stone becomes part of a story we can’t wait to tell the team back home, and later, to our clients in the store.
Just like the roadrunner, we thrive in the thrill of the chase — and for us, the journey is just as precious as the gems we bring back.
P.S. On our final day, after we drove back to Phoenix, the three of us ended up watching the Saguaro National Park Nat Geo episode together in our hotel room — huddled around my iPad, reliving our roadrunner encounter with lots of laughter (and maybe still picking out a few cacti needles).
The Wand Selection
Just as wands choose their wizards at Ollivanders, so too do gemstone tweezers find their rightful owner—not by sparks or spells, but by balance, tension, and the perfect grip.
On my first trip to Tucson with our gemologist and co-founder, Kengo-san, I noticed something curious—he packed his own tools: a loupe, a jewellery cloth, and of course, a tweezer. Almost every vendor at the venue had tweezers on hand, always ready to offer them when we examined stones. But Kengo-san insisted on using his own.
“I like mine better,”
he said simply. And that day, I claimed my very first tweezer.
As much as I want to say your wand chooses you, there are a few practical factors to consider when selecting a gemstone tweezer:
Tip Type:
Grooved tips for securely holding round gemstones.
Flat tips for flat or irregular stones.
Serrated tips for extra grip, but can risk scratching softer stones.
Material:
Stainless Steel – Durable, rust-resistant, and easy to clean.
Titanium – Lightweight and corrosion-resistant, great for long handling sessions.
Carbon Steel – Extremely sturdy, but may require more care to avoid rust.
Tension and Springiness:
Should feel comfortable in hand—not too tight or too loose. Good tension gives control without causing fatigue (just like a wand with the perfect core).
Length and Weight:
Longer tweezers for better reach and visibility; shorter ones for more control.
Weight should feel balanced, especially for extended use.
Ergonomics and Grip Comfort:
Non-slip handles or textured grips can help.
Some tweezers come with cushioned grips or special coatings for comfort.
Once you’ve found the right one, you’ll understand why people grow attached to their own tools.
Different people have different preferences—just like how your spells might backfire when using someone else’s wand (yes, I’m referring to you, Voldemort), your own tweezer just gives you a different kind of comfort.
After a few trips to Tucson, I started to notice something. When vendors offered their tweezers and loupes, and we quietly reached into our pockets to draw out our own, they’d pause. A glance, a subtle nod.
“Oh, this person is serious. This person came prepared.”
Of course, there are others who do the same—but in that moment, I always feel a quiet satisfaction.
It’s a small gesture, but it shows we take our work seriously—and we’re ready for whatever treasures Tucson has in store.
It’s been almost four years since I purchased my first tweezer, and I’ve been using it ever since. Bringing it back to where it all began—the Tucson gem show—and using it to seek out the right gemstones.
For me, and for those who will one day treasure these gems as their own.
And with the right ‘wand’ in hand, we’re always ready to make a little magic.
Conversations in Stone
There’s a small “attraction” at the Tucson Gem Show every year.
Not an official one. Just something that never fails to make me smile.
A loud, familiar laugh echoing across the booths.
Someone slipping in and out of sight, as if appearing through hidden doors only he knows about.
The first one to be ready every morning, dressed and out the door before the rest of us have even finished our coffees.
He walks fast — always — and somehow ends up far ahead of us, without ever seeming to rush.
That’s Kaicho.
The ultimate gemstone lover.
Kaicho (chairman) is the third generation of Kajita Jewellery, and the very first from the company to set foot on the dry, sunlit land of Arizona.
He could have stayed in Japan, buying gemstones through the usual routes, from the usual middlemen. But instead, he packed his bag and flew halfway across the world. To Tucson. To the source.
“I wanted to see them for myself,” he once told me.
“To speak directly, and feel the weight of the stone before anyone else had touched it.”
Of course, his first few trips weren’t perfect. He got lost. Made mistakes. Bought stones he later regretted.
But he kept going. Year after year.
Learning the language of the trade — not just in words, but in the unspoken things: the look in someone’s eyes, the feel of a stone in your palm under desert light.
Over time, Kaicho became more precise, almost severe.
Only the best. Nothing less.
“How can we sell it to a customer if you don’t even like it?”
I remember him saying that, as I lingered over a stone I wasn’t sure about.
He doesn’t need to say much. He just knows.
And maybe that’s his gift — not just finding stones, but communicating with them, in a way the rest of us are still learning.
Watching Kaicho return to Tucson year after year, I’ve come to realise something else.
Kaicho’s purpose has changed — or perhaps it’s grown.
It’s no longer just about searching for beautiful stones.
There’s a different kind of excitement in him now — one that isn’t only about the gemstones themselves.
It’s in the way he quickens his pace when we near a familiar booth, the way his eyes light up at the sight of old friends, faces he’s seen across decades and continents.
Sometimes, while exploring booths on my own, suppliers would glance at my badge and break into a grin.
“How’s Kaicho doing?” they’d ask, like inquiring about an old friend, or someone they admired from afar — for his energy, his consistency, maybe even his legend.
I always find myself smiling before answering.
Because after all this time — through changes in the world, through people coming and going, through businesses that have faded away — Kaicho is still here.
Still with the same passion. Still walking ahead of us, laughter in the air, chasing after something beautiful, and perhaps, something only he can see.
He’s there not only to catch up, but to bargain — with respect, with humour, with familiarity.
One evening, during our usual dinner routine — over a glass of red wine he had handpicked himself, as seriously as he picks gemstones at the show — he said to me,
“Communication is one-to-one.”
He wasn’t just talking about business.
He explained how speaking in a group is one thing, but sitting down, person to person — that’s where the real exchange happens. The kind of exchange that stays with you, long after the conversation ends.
The things you bring back from those moments — they’re different.
Perhaps that’s the essence of this industry, and why it continues to hold us.
Jewellery, gemstones — they’re deeply personal. Without communication, without understanding the person across from you, how could you possibly begin?
That’s what I realised, watching Kaicho — and perhaps, learning from him in my own quiet way.
A man who values communication, not just as a tool, but as a way of living, is a man with an open mind.
A man who still walks ahead of us, laughter in the air, chasing after something beautiful — and perhaps, something only he can see.
Fujimori Kajita will be holding our annual Gem & Jewellery Affair this April. Stay tuned for more details—coming soon with the final Tucson blog post.
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