“…I asked my grandmother about the Japanese things she could not keep. She strongly told me in her broken English that ‘we here now’ (in America), that we should not worry about Japan or what was lost.”
Growing up, there was always the presence of my Grandma Yaki, who always held her head high and her back straight. As long as I can remember, her hair was long—below her knees—and always up in a bun at the nape of her neck.
She was born into a samurai family (military noble class), where she was a privileged daughter with all that entailed. She never had to cook, clean, wash or iron. She learned to sew and diligently studied at school. If it rained, someone from the household carried her on their back to school.
At the age of 18 in 1911, she was sent to the United States to her new husband. Theirs was an arranged marriage between two samurai families from the same Kagoshima area. My grandfather wrote telling of his financial “success” in the United States, and that he would provide a good home for his new wife. In reality, like many Issei (first-generation immigrants), he struggled to make a living through a series of odd jobs. My grandma came, saw the truth of the situation, and silently acknowledged her transition from being a daughter of privilege to a wife, working domestic, and mother. She worked hard to feed her family of four daughters and one son.
Then World War II reared its ugly head. My mother told me that one of the last Japanese ships to port in San Francisco before the bombing of Pearl Harbor was captained by Grandma’s cousin, Captain Yamashita. He was to bring her home to Japan, but she could only bring one person with her, her youngest child and only son, George. Because she would not leave her daughters nor her husband, she declined the offer.
After Pearl Harbor, many Japanese, fearful of being identified as enemy sympathizers, thought it advisable to get rid of everything Japanese. My grandmother strictly followed that advice and disposed of all kimonos, books in kanji (Japanese characters), and letters from Japan.
Because the family lived on Fillmore Street near Clay, just outside of the Nihonmachi (Japantown) boundaries, they were one of the first to leave San Francisco. Tanforan was not yet ready so they had to go to Santa Anita Race Track in 1942, then to Topaz. My mother told me how difficult it was for everyone, but especially how demeaning for Grandma and other Issei ladies. The toilets were open with no privacy and showering was a humiliating experience.
“…my grandmother was ostracized from the mess hall by others in the camp who resented the government’s treatment and felt those who volunteered to serve were ‘traitors’…”
At the beginning of the War, George was desperate to join the Army with his Caucasian pals. Of course, the Army would not take him, and George landed in Topaz. However, I was told he volunteered immediately once the Army began recruiting Japanese Americans from the camps in 1943, and he joined the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the all-Nisei (second generation) unit. Because of this, my grandmother was ostracized from the mess hall by others in the camp who resented the government’s treatment and felt those who volunteered to serve were “traitors”; and her daughters had to bring her meals to their room. I don’t know how long this lasted, but my mother was very bitter on relating this experience.
When I was in my twenties, I asked my grandmother about the Japanese things she could not keep. She strongly told me in her broken English that “we here now” (in America), that we should not worry about Japan or what was lost. Like most Isseis, she was not a citizen of the United States during the War, as Issei were not eligible to become citizens until 1955; but again like many Isseis, she was resigned to what life handed her.
What is an American? Grandma was not a citizen of the United States until December 6, 1955; but until her death, she held her head high and her back straight. She was an American in spirit and in her heart, and that is what she taught her grandchildren.
About the contributor: Gail Hoshiyama Nanbu was born in Chicago, IL in 1944, where her parents, Willie and Fumiko Hoshiyama, were married after an early exit from Topaz. The family returned to San Francisco in 1949, but Gail has lived in Walnut Creek, CA for many years. She and her husband, Gerry Nanbu, love to travel, especially to Japan. Gail enjoys Ikebana and making Kimekomi dolls while still helping clients with their tax issues as an enrolled agent.
Copyright 2019 Gail Hoshiyama Nanbu. All rights reserved.
Thank you, Gail, for sharing your family story. It is bittersweet and filled with love.
Satsuki
Thank you, Satsuki, for your kind words. Gail
Gail,
You have a wonderful history. I had no idea. Your grandmother had such strength and integrity. So Japanese, so noble, and yet able to endure and accept the hardship of life with her husband and children. To me, she is the epitome of a person with immense Japanese pride and strong sense of moral principles. Wow! You were very fortunate to know her so intimately.
Gail ,
Thank you for sharing your Grandmother Yaki’s story . Her being “ostracized from the mess hall because her son volunteered “ hit me like a ton of bricks . My father wrote that Grandma “had been given a hard time by the hardheads”. I hadn’t really considered what that might have meant until I read your story.
Joe Yoshino