Las TerrenasInterested in Japan? Here's an article written by someone who has lived in Japan and also has written a travel guidebook for the the Dominican Republic. This text is copyright 1996, Harry S. Pariser. All rights reserved. Contact the author for reprint or other rights.
Set in the heart of the Greater Antilles, Hispaniola is the second largest island in the Caribbean Sea. It's divided into two nations: Haiti to the West and the Dominican Republic to the East. Haiti is a former French colony which, in 1804, became the second nation in the Americas to gain its independence; the Dominican Republic once belonged to Spain, and Spanish is the national language. Under the regime of strongman Rafael Trujillo, Japanese immigrants were recruited and granted land in the mid-1950s. Out of all the settements only two--in the towns of Jabaracoa and Constanza--were successful. This past October, in the process of researching a travel guide for visitors to the the Dominican Republic, I visited some members of the local Japanese immigrantcommunity to find out how they were doing and their view of contemporary Japan.
In the mountain town of Jabaracoa in the nation's north central area, I made enquiries and was directed to the home of some Japanese. The front of the house was under construction and apparently no one was home, but I was guided to the back where I found the three members of the Hamada family: 70-year-old Toki, her daughter 37-year-old-Kiyoko, and her granddaughter two-year-old Keiko. They were startled to see me at first but soon warmed up. Kiyoko told me the family's story: One of the nine remaining out of some 80 families who emigrated here, the Hamadas arrived 35 years ago. Along the way, they have encountered many difficulties, but have tackeled them as they came along. After dictator Trujillo's assassination in 1962, they found that the land they had been given had been confiscated from its Dominican owners and little compensation had been paid. This came as a rude shock because they had had no knowledge of the situation. In retribution, they found their vegetables stolen, storehouse set on fire, and plants uprooted. As time wore on, however, their neighbors came to respect their agricultural accomplishments, and they became friends. The Hamadas showed the locals how to grow certain vegetables and instructed them in which pesticides to use.
Our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of 83-year-old Hamada Matsuo. He greets first me in Spanish, and--although the others correct him several times--it takes him quite a while to adjust to the fact that I can speak his native tongue. Hamada has led quite a colorful history. Born in Kagoshima Prefecture, he first worked in the United States from 1932 until the outbreak of the Second World War. After serving in the war, he met tough times in Japan and he and his wife descied to emigrate here. Although they have converted to Catholicism, the Hamadas still retain much of their culture. One of their relatives produces miso, and they grow some soybeans and Japanese rice. They make a living by exporting vegetables to Canada. They grow Filipino, Korean, Chinese, and Indian vegetables--bitter greens and spicy peppers--and ship them to Toronto where a relative acts as an intermediary. The new house in front is going up for the parents. Kiyoko and her family live in a house behind. Kiyoko's husband became a yoshimuko: as the Hamadas had only daughters, he took on the Hamada name and became their adopted eldest son in a sense.
Toki revisited Japan for the first time 12 years ago, and she was astonished at all the improvements. Although Kiyoko came to Japan when she was a small child, she has read books about Japan, viewed videos, and believes she has a good idea about the place. "I couldn't live in Japan," she said. "It would be difficult to adjust. It would be nice just to visit. If you have the money, you can get anything you want there. But you definitely have to work hard. Here, we are almost self sufficient. We need to buy meat, clothes, medicine, and gas. That's about it. I understand the Dominican kokoro (heart) and their way of thinking better than I do the Japanese. And people here aren't in competition with each other as they are in Japan. If you are sick, they'll help you. That's no longer true in Japan." A second colony is some 40 km N and a couple of hours from Jabaracoa. Enclosed by mountains, the valley surrounding the small town of Constanza--with its lush and verdant fields and Japanese-made pickup trucks might well be anywhere in Japan. However, upon closer inspection, differences emerge. While some stands selling stawberries, others sell drinking coconuts (¥ 35) and avocadoes (¥ 10). About two kilometers from town along the road to the Valle Nuevo reserve one comes to the Japanese club on the left. Stepping inside, I encounter a Dominican, now living in Boston, who has returned to his hometown to tie the nuptial knot the next day in the club. I ask him about the colonia's Japanese and he directs me towards some homes. Ringing the doorbell on one, no one answers so I try another household which has a beautiful garden behind its gate. An older woman comes to the door. Startled that I can speak Japanese, she invites me in. As we take a seat in the parlor, she bends over and can barely contain her laughter. Recovering her composure, she calls in her daughter-in-law to join: Starting to shout out to her that "we have a visitor, a "hen na...," she catches herself and resists completing the sentence with "gaijin"--the "strange foreigner," a classic epithet so often applied to Japanese-speaking non-Asians but one that would have been singularly ironic given the context. Laying out a succession of treats during my visit--such as Japanese tea, sliced Japanese curi (cucumber) with soy sauce, kuro sato (brown sugar) from Kagoshima, and--still later--a slice of apple, we begin our conversation. Born in 1927, Ariyama Mutsuko has lived in the Dominican Republic for 35 years yet can't speak much Spanish. She and her husband decided to emigrate from Kagoshima's Kawanabe-gun after learning about the Dominican government's invitation from the Kagoshima prefectural government. As Kagoshima Prefecture has little arable land, and they wanted to try their hand at developing someplace "vast." Of the 30 families here, today only 10 remain; however, if you count the children who have intermarried with Dominicans, the Japanese community expands considerably. Although there were times so difficult that they were tempted to leave, the Ariyamas seem to have made out pretty well all-in-all.
The Ariyamas live in a large home by Japanese standards, and the room we are in--divided into living room and kitchen by a counter holding two aquarium tanks--is equipped with a giant NEC television set, VCR, stereo, and other amenities. I comment on a piece of pottery I see which appears to be Kuro Satsuma, the black glazed ceramics introduced by Korean potters to Kagoshima and now legendary. Mutsuko brings it over for my inspection. "This is Chotaro-yaki given to me during my trip to Japan in 1980 by my relative Ariyama Chotaro" (the head of a well known dynasty of Kagoshima potters).
I ask her daugher-in-law to tell me about herself and am suprised to hear that she is a native-born Japanese. Miwa immigrated here twelve years ago after meeting Mutsuko's oldest son, Shinichi, in Tokyo where he had gone to study. Japanese aren't familiar at all with the Dominican Republic. I looked on a map and found it. "Shinkoku "(new country) I thought.to myself My friends thought I was crazy to desert Tokyo for here. I wasn't suprised at what I found. I knew it would be poor here." Shinichi had seemed a bit eccentric to her, a bit "oba!" Whereas ordinary Japanese generally hold themselves still in conversation--with their palms folded in their lap, Shinichi's behavior was very Latin--gesticulating, arm waving, and touching.
The Ariyamas grow garlic (which commands a good price), beets, green onions, carrots, lettuce, soybeans and azuki beans. They make their own tofu, pickled vegetables, and miso, but buy soy sauce and Japanese rice which costs D$800 per 100 pounds (US$64) as opposed to D$500 (US$40) for the local variety. They eat things like bread, fried platanos (cooking bananas) for breakfast, Dominican rice for lunch, and cook a Japanese-style dinner. They also have a Japanese bath, as do all of the families here, and in addition to the Japanese club, there is a Japanese school held on Saturday. Mutsuko shows me some pictures she drew under the coaching of one of the teachers brought from Japan. Like most of their neighbors, they have converted to Catholicism. "The first time I entered a church and saw Christ up there on the cross, I was frightened. But after my children went to Catholic school I converted." Still, the Ariyamas have a bamboo tree with tanabata paper strips hanging on it, and is the case with many Japanese Christians, they appear to have added another belief rather than have discarded Shinto and Buddhism. The Japanese community here appears headed towards hybridization. Many of the young go to Japan to work. Mutsuko regards the process of acculturation as inevitable. Of her seven sons, only two have married Japanese. Despite the "thinning out" of Japanese blood and culture, it is certain that the local Japanese will have a substantial impact on Dominican life in the area for generations to come.
Related Pages
Japanese in the Dominican Republic
Discover the true Dominican Republic.
Read excerpts from Explore the Dominican Republic
Order Explore the Dominican Republic from Amazon.com
Order Explore the Dominican Republic from the author
Travel Notes to the Dominican Republic
Selected Travel Links for the Dominican Republic
Read about the Pariser's Discovery Guide Series
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This page last updated: Sat, Aug 15, 1998
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