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JUNE
26, 2000 VOL. 155 NO. 25
Forgotten
by History
Japanese-Peruvians
interned in the U.S. still struggle for recognition and compensation
By SANDY FERNANDEZ
P
L U S
Same Old, Same Old: The usual
suspects line up for votes
Campaign Controversies: Why mori's
gaffes may help at the polls
It is
one of the forgotten tragedies of World War II. Nearly 60 years ago, entire
families of Japanese-descended Latin Americans were taken from their homes
and, under the guise of protecting "national security interests," shipped
to internment camps in the United States. Nearly 2,300 people from 13
countries--80% of them Japanese-Peruvians--were rounded up to wait out the
war in the shadow of guard towers and barbed-wire fences.
Incarceration cost them dearly. Many Japanese immigrant families--who had
begun arriving in Latin America in the 1800s looking for a better life--had
grown prosperous in the New World. Peru boasted major Japanese-owned businesses
and cultural institutions; Lima, the capital, had six Japanese schools.
As the Japanese were shipped out, local authorities grabbed their involuntarily
abandoned property. None of it was ever recovered. Stripped of their passports
and visas, many formerly prosperous internees found themselves stateless
after the war, unwanted by either the U.S. or Peru. Some were never reunited
with family members. Others, says Grace Shimizu, head of the Japanese
Peruvian Oral History Project in El Cerrito, California, are still looking
for missing loved ones.
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"A lot
of these people lost everything they had," says Xavier Becerra, a U.S.
Representative from Los Angeles who has authored a bill that would provide
for a forceful apology and equitable remuneration for Japanese Latin Americans,
or jlas, who did not benefit from earlier reparations. Becerra's Wartime
Parity and Justice Act of 2000 would also require the U.S. government
to disclose classified documents related to jla internments. Says Becerra:
"We should live up to our responsibility."
By most accounts, that responsibility began in 1942, when President Franklin
D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 authorizing the evacuation of
Japanese Americans from certain strategic areas of the U.S. Describing
the action as necessary to protect the Panama Canal, Washington then persuaded
13 Latin American countries to round up their ethnic Japanese populations
and send them to internment camps. Records from that era show the U.S.
was also interested in collecting jlas it could later trade to Japan for
American and European prisoners of war. The Latin nations, meanwhile,
wanted to protect relations with their powerful northern neighbor.
German Yaki was 12 years old when his family became a target. "All of
a sudden my father was not home at lunchtime anymore," says Yaki, now
69. "I would ask my mother, 'Where's Dad?' and she would just cry." Yaki's
father, leader of the Japanese Peruvian Society in Lima, was sent to a
camp in Crystal City, Texas in January 1943. Once there, he learned he
was a candidate for pow exchange and, fearing the permanent break-up of
his family, wrote for them to join him. Yaki recalls boarding a United
Fruit Co. ship and arriving at the camp shortly before July 4, 1943. "I
didn't know how long we were going to be there," he says. "I would always
think, 'I didn't do anything wrong. My father didn't do anything wrong.
Why should we be paying for something we weren't responsible for?'"
But pay they did, along with other jlainternees. More than 800 of them
were traded to Japan during the war and some 1,000 more went afterward,
when the U.S. threatened to deport them as illegal aliens and Peru, citing
their lack of passports, refused to let most of them back in. The legal
quandary kept some jlas living in camps as late as 1948. An estimated
300 eventually won the right to remain in the U.S., most by relocating
to Bridgeton, New Jersey, where a produce farm desperate for workers offered
to take them on. But the stigma of being illegal aliens stayed on their
immigration records.
The designation still rankles. "How can they be illegal aliens when it
is clear that the U.S. kidnapped them?" asks Shimizu, whose father was
an internee. The issue gained urgency in 1988, when the U.S. granted reparations
to Japanese Americans under the Civil Liberties Act but specifically excluded
anyone who was not an American citizen or permanent resident at the time
of internment. Outraged, the jlas joined a class-action suit. In 1998
they won acknowledgement that "injustices have been done" and a payment
of $5,000 each. It was a quarter of the amount granted to interned Japanese-Americans,
and available only if funds remained after those had been paid, but most
jlas accepted it. "We began to think that we weren't so young anymore,"
says Yuriko Tanaka, 68, an ex-internee who accepted the offer.
Tomas Hayashi didn't. His 79-year-old father died two months before the
court settlement. "It's a shame," Hayashi says. "It was the only thing
he wanted." German Yaki also rejected the offer. "It's an issue of honor
and dignity," he says. "It's a matter of principle." For them and for
thousands of other jlas, the only choice is to cast their lot with Congressman
Becerra and hope that after more than half a century, the U.S. will remember
its unwilling guests.
Reported by Deb Brown and Jacqueline Savaiano/Los Angeles and Catherine
Elton/Lima
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