In 1941, the Kawashiri family consisted of My Grandfather Yukiju, age 64; my father, Jero age 43; my mother, Chiyoko age 29; myself, age 10; Tetsuro, age 8; Kazuko, age 6; and Yukio, age 3.   At that time, a non citizen Japanese could not own property, so my father and grandfather had a "long term" lease on a large acreage on which they grew flowers and built a new home.   This would soon come to an end and all would be lost.

7 December 1941   -   I will never forget that fateful Sunday morning.   I was waiting for a car to arrive to pick me up to take me to Sunday School.   It was a normal winter day in the low rolling hills of Hermosa Beach (Los Angeles County).   My father and grand father were working early in the morning in nearby fields where we were growing flowers.   Where ever you looked across the rolling hills were fields of gently waving flowers. The car arrived and the driver jumped out and yelled to who ever could hear him, “Turn on the radio, turn on the radio”.   There was such urgency in his voice that it really frightened me, not knowing that it would change my life forever.

The Kawashiri Farm. In the photo above, in the center my mother is sitting on the ground and I am the little girl standing beside her.

My father and grandfather dropped whatever they had in their hands and immediately ran into the house, leaving me standing by the car wondering what was going on.  Watching them run gave me a sickening feeling of fright. Everyone gathered around and stared at the radio, listening to every word coming from it.   No one could believe what they were hearing!..... "Japan attacking America!"....  It just couldn’t be true!

I had just reached the age of 10 a few weeks before, and national news of any kind did not normally have any significance.   I couldn’t comprehend the full extent of what we were hearing but felt that somehow it was important.   I knew of Japan through my parents, studied about it in school and knew it to be the homeland of my father and grandfather.   I had also learned a lot of their customs, but it was still a foreign country and news of it had no more of a meaning than any other foreign country.   It was just a place "over there".

We were placed on a travel restriction of a five mile radius from our home by the Police within the week.   Five miles - No further.   Soon after that, We were notified that we would be going to a retention camp in the very near future.   Not long after the police put us on the restriction, one of our neighbors, a Caucasian family came to visit us.   I recall my father transacting the sale of his car for $10.00,.... my father was saying; “we don’t know what is going to happen so I’ve got to get rid of it.”   It would have sold for much more, but many Americans were attempting to buy everything the Japanese had for pennies.   It was better to offer it to a good friend for $10 than to sell it to someone else.

Christmas was not Christmas that year.   Because of the Executive Order No. 9066 signed by FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT on February 19, 1942, all Japanese, American Citizens or not, that lived in the western coastal states we were required to register, and would soon have to report to "Assembly Centers" located in different States.   In our part of the county, our first destination was the Santa Anita race track.   We were to report with only what each individual could carry.   We were limited to the following items:  (my father carried extra items for the younger children)

• Bedding and linens (no mattress) for each member of the family;
• Toilet articles for each member of the family;
• Extra clothing for each member of the family;
• Sufficient knives, forks, spoons, plates, bowls and cups for each member of the family;
• Essential personal effects for each member of the family.

I remember being in a convoy of cars, and pick-ups, all types and sizes.   The line seemed to extend forever.   When we gathered at the assembly center, I had never been among so many Japanese people in one place in my whole life .   [It should be noted that there were a number of Caucasian as well as Chinese and other nationalities that went with their Japanese spouses in order not to be separated.]

Barracks had been built on the Race Track grounds to house the evacuees, however, the Government had under estimated the population of the Japanese people therefore ended up with a housing shortage. It seemed we were among the last to reach our destination, and with the shortage of barracks, our quarters were the stables!  No matter how hard you cleaned, they still smelled like stables.  In lieu of beds we slept on cotton cots, and were provided with a large canvas bag filled with hay as our mattress.  Fortunately, we had our own bedding, although we were provided with "GI" blankets so that helped.   There was a "Utility building" that was shared with many people; morning clean up, showers, washing clothes. etc... When it came to ironing, since space was limited in the horse stales, you would see the ladies ironing outside between the stalls,.... it was almost comical, to see the women lined up ironing!   The Japanese elders would call assembly for us kids, we would go to a huge hall.   There we were divided up by age groups and conducted some school activities.   Story’s were read by volunteers, we sang songs, told stories..... no real classes.

After about six months at Santa Anita, we packed all our goods that we could carry and were placed on a train heading East.  During the trip we had to keep the curtains closed when we went through any cities.  It was an old vintage passenger car and it seemed like it took forever.   The seats were wooden and they were getting harder and harder during the trip.  In about three or four days we arrived in Arkansas.

Jerome Relocation Camp   [Map] The forest was cleared to create two large internment camps a few miles from a town called McGee, Arkansas.   One camp was called Rowher Camp and the other Jerome Camp.   Our camp was Jerome.   There were more than 80 `Blocks’ in the camp.   Each block consisted of four long barracks on either side of a "Utility building" and a mess hall (photo) at the end of it.

The Utility room is where one could take a bath or shower, also had a few basins, and of course bathrooms.   The entire camp was surrounded by barb wire and a watch tower occupied by a soldier with rifle.   The barracks was built as a wooden frame with tar paper walls.   Each barracks was partitioned off into six family units.   With thin walls, you could hear every sound in the next room.   With my grandfather we were six and were able to have two rooms for our family.   Each room had a pot-bellied coal stove as well as one folding steel cot with a straw mattress for each person.  No other furniture.   What ever we had, we had to make ourselves.   The winters were cold and summers hot and humid!.

Movies were available to us every week end at the Mess Hall.   We had stores to purchase our necessities.  Schools were available, various clubs, crafts, were created for the adults.   My father worked in the mess hall, my mother was able to learn how to sew difficult garments through the sewing class.  My grandfather worked with people who created different shapes and figures from the roots of trees.   They would look for various shapes of the roots that grew out into the water of a stream in the forest..  Only in the forest is it available.   It is really amazing what they were able to create from an ugly root... into this shining, glowing beautiful object!

As you can see, even while in capltivity, life did continue.  It was in Jerome in Jan 1943 that my younest sister Sachi was born.  She was the only one of my brothers and sisters that was not born in California.

Tule Lake Relocation Camp - In mid 1944, we found ourselves back on the train again, this time headed for Tule Lake, California, which is on the border of California and Oregon.   Tule Lake is a dried-up lake bed in the lava beds area, summers hot, winter very cold.   Tule Lake camp is identical to Jerome, the lay-out of the “Blocks”, I don’t know how many blocks there were, but there were over 18,000 Japanese living there.   We had a coal burning pot-belly stove to keep us warm in the winter, but the summers were hot, and dry.   In Jerome Arkansas, summers had been hot and humid!   It was awful!   Like the previous camp the adults created various groups and clubs.  Since this was a dry lake bed, there were a lot of sea shells buried in the ground which the adults took advantage of and made into various creative articles.

This camp was occupied by people who were considering returning to Japan.   Most had lost everything with nothing to go back to and many had decided to return to Japan.   When I look back, there were a lot of discussions over "loyalty", loyalty to Japan or the U.S. and was beyond me to comprehend.   My mother and I did voice our opinion to my father that we would like to remain in the States.   With a family of six, and a fear of the unknown had we remained in the U.S. helped drive my father back to Japan.   Another reason was that in 1944, my grandfather passed away while in Tule Lake Camp, where his funeral (photo) was held.   Having not seeing his mother for over 15 years, my father wanted to see her.   He also wanted to bury his father in Japan.   It was a great disappointment to both me and my mother, however, the family followed his wishes.

My Grandfather who was born in Japan, came to the United States in the early 1900's.   My father was also born in Japan, but came to the U.S. with his older brother when he was in his teens.

Chiyoko Kawashiri - 14 Feb 1931 -

My mother was born in Oakland, California, and had moved to the Los Angeles area with her mother.   There she met my father and they were married in 1931.   Since my father was a Japanese National, my mother lost her American Citizenship when she married.   In the summer of 1941, my father had built a three bedroom house with a separate garage in Redondo Beach, and added all new appliances for my mother.   At that time, a Japanese national could not purchase property, and my father was not able to own any land, so he had a long term lease on the land to grow flowers.   We had only lived in the new house for approximately three months, when we were confined to within five miles of our home, then it was off to camp.

There was no time to dispense with any household goods or personal items within the house or even the house itself.   We had left our personal belongings with a hired hand, who had been working for us, and eventually was notified by him that the items were stolen....   Basically everything, that my parents owned and treasured over the years were gone.

I can’t imagine how my parents felt after the loss of the house and all those years of hard work out in the fields.... absolutely gone!   I couldn’t begin to think of how people like my mother and father went through the years of internment suffering....  I don't believe my father ever recovered from that loss.

There was a lot of talk from Japanese GI’s who came to visit their parents in camp, saying how terrible the conditions in Japan were.  But, nobody believed the GI’s.   They were oblivious of the condition and of course refused to believe any of it.   We soon learned that it was true.

Japan Bound - On Christmas day 1945, at Tule Lake, we boarded a train headed for Portland, Oregon. I remember looking from my window gazing at the homes on the hillside, all decorated with Christmas lights, it looked so beautiful!

In Portland, we boarded a Navy Troop ship, and were separated, men in one group and women with the kids in another.   We slept in hammocks and that was quite an experience.   After 12 days, we docked at Yokosuka, Japan.   I recall an unpleasant odor in the early morning air.   I understand it was from the raw wood.   Once we arrived in Japan, on land when it was meal time, we were fed brown rice, which we were not accustomed to.   Japan had a shortage of white rice and only the brown rice was available.

The majority of the men from the States were dressed with heavy over coats, dressed well against the cold.... after all it was in January.   They had to use the “Out house” when it was necessary, and they would hang the over coats outside the door, and when they came out, the coats would not be there!   It was a shock to them, realizing their own country men were stealing from them!!

We then boarded a train.   I don’t remember how long we rode on the train.   It had broken windows, and going through so many tunnels it was All I could do to hold my breath till we got through....   I hated the smell of coal burning.   My father's ancestral home was in Tottri Ken, a south western Prefecture in Japan.

We had to switch trains in Yonago, to go to Niiya, the village where my father was born.   That took about half an hour, then we had to walk from the train station to the village (15 min.).   The house was along the main road which ran the length of the peninsula.   A large gate and a long cement walk with fruit trees on both sides lead to the front door of a two story house.   We were greeted by a middle age couple, who were strangers, they called for my grandmother, and I could hear her shuffling her feet when she came out to meet with us.   It was quite a surprise for her to see her son and family suddenly upon her doorstep.   My father had sent her a telegram concerning our arrival but she had not received the telegram yet.   It was such a joyful moment for my grandmother and father after so many years!   It seems no sooner than we arrived, the word was all over the village... the men friends of my father’s were coming over to greet him.   He certainly was a popular man!

The women and children gathered in the other room, around a “Komatsu”.   A "Komatsu" has a wooden frame build around a hibachi (with hot coals) in a designated spot in the floor.   A very thick “futon” is then placed over it.   You sit on the floor made of wheat or rice straw, put your feet under the futon, which was very warm.   There is no heater as we know it.   They all seemed to enjoy conversing.....especially with my mother.   However, my grandmother couldn’t understand why I would torture my hair by making it curl (I had a permanent in my hair).

Since I, as well as my brothers and sisters were under age, we had to attend school in Japan.   I didn’t know much about writing in Japanese.   When I was younger in the states, I attended Japanese school on Saturdays only.   In Japan, of course everyday...  Not being able to write in Japanese, and being in a classroom with younger kids, I had a difficult time, I struggled in my classes.   They did try to be friendly, but I felt very much out of place.   In winter it was rough walking to school, especially in the snow, some kids wore rubber boots, some wore the wooden “geita”, with leather covering just around the toes.   When you outgrow shoes, or boots, there’s none to be bought, you have no choice but to wear the “geitas” wherever you go.

This is post war era, everyone had to sacrifice the riches of materials to the government so now, they hardly had any clothes of their own, and they certainly did not have different clothes for each day of the week to wear... which was not of their choice.  I was always envied for my clothes that I have taken so much for granted.   I felt so fortunate, but at the same time, I made sure I did not flaunt it around.

I eventually occupied the upstairs of our home, which was not very large but I liked the view from the window.   I could observe a little strip of the sea (Japan Sea) between the pine trees that lined near the beach.  When it snowed, I would put my hand out and could see the intricate design in the snow flakes, it was really fascinating to observe this.   The peninsula we live on is only 2 or 3 miles wide, and about 10 to 15 miles long, but long enough to appear on the map!   We lived in approximately the center, with picturesque mountains in the background.   The summers were hot and humid, winters were dry and cold.

My parents worked the farm and we grew a lot of rice and wheat, but that had to be surrendered to be rationed out to other family’s who were in need of it.   We were able to have a small patch of land to our selves where we grew vegetables.   On 7 March 1949, my father at the age of 51, passed away, leaving my mother with us four kids, the acres of land.   Luckily we had a cousin that lived across from our house who had assisted my mother in keeping up the farm, and supported her.   When it came to harvesting, my fathers friends came to help, certainly a relief to my mother.   I helped in the wheat fields between my studies, but I must confess, I could not bring myself to help her in the rice fields with all those leaches!

I must admit my life in Japan was quite an experience, you certainly learn to appreciate all the conveniences you take for granted here in the states.   I most missed the hot water!   When we took bathes, we did have the bath and wash room in a separate room, the bathtub sits up-right and on the other side of the wall, we burn wood under the tub to heat the water.   One by one, we would wash and rinse our bodies before we enter the tub, that way the tub water remains clean.   Each morning, I would have to brush my teeth and wash my face with cold water, unless we took the time to heat water first, but that took too much time.   You get use to it after awhile...

I could not get use to being stared at, during my stay there, I felt very uncomfortable, I was being discriminated against because I was born in the U.S.   When I lived in the states before the war, there was a lot of discrimination, but we learned to accept it (but still disliked it).   But when we went to Japan, I thought being among our own people, we would not have to experience such things but, I certainly was wrong.   Discrimination there was just as bad.   I was proud and grateful for being born in the states, and I was determined to return someday.   After graduation from school, I rode the train to the city everyday to attend a typing school.

After my father died, we had very little income, so to help the family I got a job on the military base ("Miho Air Base") about 15 minutes away from my home.  At first I worked in the Base Exchange and later in Personal Services as a secretary and interpreter.  My Mother worked in Special Services as an interpreter after I had returned to the States.

In early 1950, while working in the Miho Base Exchange, I was introduced to Don by another Nisei girl that also worked there, and we became friends.   In July 1950 the Korean war started and shortly after that, Don was transfered to Kokura, Japan, and then a few weeks later, transfered back to our area on a detachment.   Shortly after that he was shipped to Korea, but while there we kept in touch by mail.  Mail took 4 to 5 days from Korea to Japan through the US Mail, so he learned to write my name and address in Japanese and sent it by Korean Postal Service.  It then only took two days to reach Japan.

After expressing my desire to return to the U.S. to my mother, she had my grandmother sponsor me for my return to the U.S. After six years of living in Japan, my wish came true and in February 1952, I was on my way back home.   Don left Korea five days after I left Japan, although he arrived in San Francisco before I did.   Later we met and soon were married in Hanford, Calilf.  My oldest brother and oldest sister returned about a year after I did.   My younest brother Yukio returned in 1956 and lived with us for a year or so.   Don and I sponsered my mother and youngest sister Sachi and they were able to return to the U.S. in 1958.

It was a happy day for me!   When my family (with the exception of my father) were all together again in the UNITED STATES.

Chiyoko's 92nd Birthday party, July 2004

Don and I are happy to say that my mother is now living with us.
She has 5 children, 12 Grand Children and 10 Great Grand children and one Great Great grand child, all living in California and Nevada.