A Survivor’s Story

UBC CONFERENCE March 21, 2003

Keiko Mary Kitagawa

My grandfather, Kumanosuke Okano came to Canada in 1896 from Hiroshima, Japan followed in 1902 by my grandmother Riyo Kimura Okano. My mother Kimiko Okano Murakami was born in 1904, the first Japanese Canadian baby born in Steveston, BC. My father, Katsuyori Murakami was born in 1899 in Hiroshima and came to Canada after he married my mother. I have three sisters and two brothers.

Before WWII we lived on Salt Spring Island where my parents had a very successful farm. They cleared the land on which they raised 5000 egg laying chickens and varieties of berry crops, asparagus and vegetables. They hired Japanese women from Chimainus on Vancouver Island to help with the harvest. During the summer baby sitters looked after the children. The farm had 17 acres on which father constructed many buildings including our house. By 1941, my parents had developed the farm into a profitable business. They were planning to buy more land and luxuries for the house and family. After nine long years of excruciatingly hard work and sacrifices, their dream of wealth was becoming a reality.

When the Pacific War began on December 7, 1941, we became prisoners of the Canadian Government. My father was taken away from us like a common criminal on March 17, 1942 and mother became a single parent to five children, ages 1 to 13. We were now labeled “Enemy Aliens” and our civil rights were taken away.

On April 22, 1942 about a month after father and 3 other men disappeared into a void, the 72 remaining JCs were sent into exile. We boarded the Princess Mary and picked up other JCs on the other Gulf Islands. It was dark when we landed in Vancouver. We were taken to the Hastings Park animal barn where our new home welcomed us with the pungent smell of animal urine and feces. A sea of bunk beds greeted our unbelieving eyes. Mother was assigned 2 ½ bunks scattered with loose straw and 2 army blankets for each person. The toilets were upright boards in front of troughs that once serviced animal wastes. Water was constantly flowing, now taking away human wastes. The smell of lime, meant to cover up the smell added to our misery. Poor and unpalatable food fed to us in mess halls caused hundreds of people to get diarrhea and food poisoning. We stayed in this gathering and dispersal center until May 1, 1942 when we were sent by archaic trains to Greenwood. There we lived in a filthy bunk house, long abandoned by miners. The women had to clean the interior to make it livable. We were assigned a small cubicle and slept on the floor. Mother took her turn to cook our food in a cramped communal kitchen. The Catholic nuns helped to provide activities for the children.

Mother did not know what happened to father until she received a cut up censored letter from him. With other prisoners, he had spent 2 nights in Hastings Park before being sent by train to Yellowhead Pass to a road prison camp to build a section of the inter-provincial highway between Jasper, Alberta and Blue River, BC. The men lived in railway box cars in cold, damp, dirty and crowded conditions. When his health began to fail, father was transferred to become a kitchen helper. The men were paid 25 cents hour but 25 cents per meal was deducted. They were required to send at least half of their pay each month to their families. Father included 20 dollars in the letter.

In July of 1942, men were released to join their families if they agreed to work on the sugar beet farms on the prairies. Father left the road prison camp on July 21, 1942 to join my grandparents who were already assigned to a farm in Magrath, Alberta. Mother and the five children rejoined father on August 15^th. We were assigned to a farm whose owner was telling the townspeople to “treat the Japs like criminals” and he did just that.

Our home was a one room shack, 10’ X15’ right next to a pig pen. The outside walls, covered with flies, appeared as if it was painted black. Inside, we found an unusable stove and a filthy floor. Father had to buy a stove and lumber to build bunk beds, table and benches. Our water source was a slough shared with farm animals. Mother had no kitchen to prepare our meals so we ate mostly canned foods. Laundry and bathing facilities were non existent. Our oldest sister worked for the farmer’s wife who paid her with milk and butter. Heavy farm work caused father’s health to deteriorate. Our parents concluded that if we continued living on this farm, we would certainly die. The BC Securities Commission was contacted and the Commissioner who visited us agreed with our parents. He arranged for us to be sent to one of the camps.

In November 1942, with an RCMP escort, we arrived in Bay Farm, later to be transferred to Popoff, then to Slocan. In the deep snow, we were assigned to share a large unheated tent with 2 other families. The communal out houses and mess hall were a distance away. Living with strangers and lack of privacy added to our misery.

In January 1943, we were moved to Rosebery, a hamlet on the northern tip of Slocan Lake. Hundreds of tiny shacks, built row upon row were not ready for our occupancy but in the freezing weather we were forced to live in them. Our shack, number 208, 14’ X 28’ was divided into 3 tiny rooms, bedrooms on either side of the common room. We were supplied with a camp stove, a small kitchen stove and a wooden sink. There was no electricity and water was drawn from communal taps scattered throughout the camp. Tar paper covered the green shiplap boards used on the outside walls. The shack was very cold; it had neither inner walls nor a ceiling. In the winter, our bedding would be frozen to the layer of ice that formed on the bedroom wall. The spaces between the boards on the floor were stuffed with whatever was available to keep out the cold. During the first summer, the men scrounged lumber to build the inner walls and ceilings. They split fallen cedar to make shakes to cover the outside walls. Men were hired for 25 cents an hour to cut firewood for the stoves. Six candles were provided each day until electricity was wired into each shack during the second year to brighten our nights. At about the same time, one tap was piped into each kitchen.

After about a year, several shacks were converted into classrooms. Fathers built the desks, benches and blackboards. Elementary school teachers were recruited from a group of women who were high school graduates. My oldest sister who was in grade nine, walked with other students to New Denver, five miles away. The United Church set up a high school and taught the BC curriculum through correspondence. There, my sister successfully obtained her high school matriculation.

The news of Order-in Council PC 469 which was passed by Cabinet on January 23, 1943 shocked our parents. It empowered the Federal Government to dispose of our property without our consent. The Custodian of Enemy Properties had promised to keep it “in trust” until our return. Some of the Islanders stole most of what was left in our house and now our property was gone. It was given to a veteran at a ridiculously low price. Our bank account was credited with a mere $500 after the transaction costs were deducted. Since our bank account was frozen, my parents had no access to their own money. Small amount was doled out each month, mostly for food. Even when the sixth child was born in 1944, the Government refused to increase the dole. We were forced to pay for our own imprisonment until the end.

The “Second Uprooting” began in March of 1945 when an ultimatum was given to all JCs, “Go east of the Rockies or be exiled to Japan”. Our parents chose to reluctantly go back to the sugar beet field in Magrath, Alberta. However, we were first moved to New Denver where we lived until May of 1946, 8 months after the war with Japan was over.

There was great suffering on the two different farms on which we were assigned. Both houses were smaller than shacks in the camps. There was no electricity, no bathing or washing facilities. Drinking water had to be carried from a well several blocks away. Water for washing clothes was drawn from an irrigation ditch until the snow came; then melted snow was used. From spring until the winter freeze, my parents walked the five miles to their 35 acre fields. My oldest sister worked as a clerk at a grocery store. Her earning was crucial to our survival. The 27 dollars per acre was not paid until after the harvest. Our once frozen bank account was nearly empty. My sister’s dream of attending university was never fulfilled.

When the JCs were finally given the Federal franchise in 1949, all restrictions were lifted, allowing us to return to BC. However, we did not have the money or a home to return to. We moved to Cardston, Alberta to take over a restaurant from my grandfather and uncle who were in financial trouble. As a family, we suffered immeasurably, working long hours. It took us 5 years to pay off the debt and save enough money to return once more to Salt Spring Island. On mother’s 50^th birthday and when father was 55, we started all over again, clearing land and planting our farm. With great determination and sacrifices our family succeeded. Our parents sent four of their younger children through university.

Life on Salt Spring Island has been a painful challenge. We experienced many, many acts of extreme racial hatred from individuals and officials of established institutions. However, this story is for another time.

Father died on March 16, 1988, six months before Prime Minister Mulroney apologized for the injustices that the Canadian Government inflicted upon the JC community. Mother died in 1997.

Our parents were a powerful team. They were our role models. They taught us never, never quietly accept the cruel onslaught of racial hatred, never to act as victims and always show a proud face to the world, never a face of defeat. They showed us how to be generous and compassionate towards others. They provided security and created opportunities for us. Throughout their lives, they were truly honorable and loyal citizens of BC and Canada. With dignity and courage, they brought the family safely through some terrible times in our journey through life and ensured that our family prevailed.