Students from Tohoku Gakuin University Photo: BC-JERF-Japan Love/Koichi Saito

By Kozue Matsumoto

BC-JERF had a precious experience this past August when a group of students from Tohoku Gakuin University in the Sendai area came to Vancouver. The primary purpose of their stay was to study English. However, since their hometown was heavily damaged by the earthquake and tsunami in March, they also wanted to share their stories about Sendai as well as thank Vancouverites for their support. Hearing their story, BC-JERF decided to help them to deliver their message to Vancouverites.

A couple of young Japanese groups, JaVan Gospel Choir and Japan Love, also came to support the students from Sendai, who are about their age but having a much tougher six months. These groups are a few of most enthusiastic groups who supported Japan with BC-JERF for the last six months.

This was an opportunity to bring together young people from both sides of the Pacific: the ones who have been supporting and the ones who received the support finally met.

What we did was two street donations at the corner of Georgia Street and Granville Street at the end of August. We were a bit worried how much attention we would be able to receive from the public since it had been almost six months from the earthquake and tsunami. Despite our worries, we had great success. A lot of Vancouverites stopped by and donated their coins and bills. We also had a lot of BC-JERF community members helping us out. Some worked with us, others dropped by to show their support. Many of them stayed with us till the end.

Takaaki Saito, the leader of the group, remembers those Vancouver days, “What I felt the most throughout this activity is the generosity of Vancouverites. They stopped by for Japan, a country on the other side of the Pacific, and I received a lot of kind words from them. I feel that this may be the first time after the earthquake that I was able to feel the warmth of people so strongly. This was such a moment to feel the warmth of people outside of Japan.”

He also shared with me the current situation of Tohoku after over six months: “We have almost finished cleaning the mess after the tsunami, and we are now working so hard for the economic recovery. The issues related with nuclear power plants would take a lot longer time; however, we, the Tohoku people, are trying to go forward into the future.

“Although there will be a huge difference in the time of recovery among each prefecture within Tohoku area, we are planning a steady recovery process from where we can. Harmful rumours are causing huge damages, but we won’t be beaten by such rumours but keep going with our Tohoku spirit and power.”

We raised $2,358.50 in total and handed out 2,800 copies of pamphlets to deliver messages about the current situation of the affected area to Vancouverites during the two days (four hours in total).

by Linda Ohama

January 2012, Onomichi, Japan

“Akemashite omedetou gozaimasu.”

That is what everyone is saying here, the first time they greet you in the New Year.

2011 is now behind us. The year will always be remembered as the year of the Great Tohoku Earthquake for the Japanese.

And 2012 will be a year for Japan to continue the massive clean up and rebuilding of Tohoku and Japan, and for the Tohoku people to carry on rebuilding their lives.

And they will.

After experiencing my first oshogatsu in Japan, I now understand so much more about the culture, the Japanese, myself and even Tohoku. What is the strength and joy that carries a person through time? It has been an amazing experience to feel.

A friend warned me that Christmas would not be that special here in Japan, but to watch out….because on December 26, suddenly everything would shift overnight to an exciting energy preparing for the New Year’s oshogatsu celebrations.

This is true. Christmas in Japan is not like Christmas in Canada. Yes, there are decorations and gifts for sale in the department stores and shops . . . the commercial part of the season, and the line-ups for KFC in lieu of the roast turkey or goose dinner, and the strawberry shortcake in place of fruitcake. Stockings are hung by the young people, but on the whole, Christmas is just another day in Japan as business and lives continue their normal routines.

For me, it was a time when I missed my family the most . . . but I got through it okay with the help of skype (the internet).

This photo is from my July stay in Onagawa when I was traveling through Tohoku. I camped out with the temporary tent shelter families that lost their homes to the tsunami in Onagawa. During the day, I was working with the children who painted pictures and wrote words about what they wanted to say through the cloth letters. The best part was at night when everyone went together to the portable ofuro to bath in the deep hot water. It was set up by the Jieitai: the Japanese Ground Self-Defence Force. Even in the sweltering soggy heat of July when it was unbearably hot, the hot ofuro was something to look forward to. Things like that made the Tohoku people stay strong.

During my lectures at universities in Japan this year, I began to realize another thing as we often discussed Tohoku in some of the classes. Listening to the young university students’ (outside of Tohoku) concerns, most times they expressed a feeling of helplessness, even shame . . . and a deep sadness and worry. They could put their coins into the donation boxes at the convenience stores, but they still wanted to do something more.

Initiating action is not a strong point of the Japanese, including the young university students. But once an opportunity is given for them to express themselves, they go at it with all their heart and strength. This is what I realized during this past year.

During the early December lectures, we came up with a small plan for these students to take some action. The plan was to send special gift packages to young people in Tohoku for Christmas. Since the numbers for Tohoku are so large, we chose the young people of a temporary housing community from Onagawa, Miyage prefecture whose town was completely destroyed except for a few buildings on the tops of hills.

Last July, I was in Onagawa working with the young people and the Canada-Tohoku Cloth Letter project. Through a contact at the Onagawa emergency center, I was now able to get the numbers of young people for each age group beginning with 0-3 year-olds, up to 14-18 year-olds living in the temporary housing community.

I posted this information to university classes, with a list of suggested items (handmade or store bought scarves, gloves, chocolates, gum, cookies, treats), my Onomichi address as the gathering point, and a specific deadline for these things to reach me.

As the deadline approached, my living room suddenly became full of boxes and packages from students and professors from all over Japan: Tokyo, Gifu, Nagoya, Fukuoka, Kochi, and Onomichi. It was incredible what these students and teachers did.

There were over 70 scarves, with about 60 hand knit, colorful scarves (‘mufflers’ in Japanese) and the rest from Uniqulo!! (a favorite shopping place for young people). Tons of special chocolates, cookies and treats. 55 lip glosses and hand creams. It was truly amazing to see all the thoughtful gifts and messages.

As my Onomichi friends and I sat through the night in my living room, making up beautiful red ribboned gift packs, we laughed with joy as we imagined all the “Santa’s helpers” that came to be.

The next morning, three large cartons of tagged gifts were couriered to Onagawa for delivery Christmas morning (which turned out to be Christmas noon).

The card in each package was a full sheet of the many, many names and locations of everyone who was part of this little project. Just knowing the number of people and the number of places was awesome and inspiring . . . and surprising . . . this is what surprised the people in Onagawa the most!

Life is amazing. Resilient. Beautiful. Destructive. Forgiving. Simple. Strong. Fragile. Harsh. Gentle. And mostly inspiring.

Life is all these things and more.

This is what I have been learning this year in Japan.

A deep sense of peace takes over as you feel that you are one part of something much larger, as you experience the rituals and celebrations of oshogatsu. This is oshogatsu.

One ritual is to fly a kite. You work hard running against the wind to get your kite to go up in the air over and over again. Finally when it reaches high enough to just drift with a few light tugs on the string that connects it to you, there is a strange sense of peacefulness in the act. This is oshogatsu.

Happy New Year everyone.

May you also experience this feeling of peace and fulfillment.

Linda

Dee Tracey

Megumi Johns

The Changing Tides photo exhibit at the National Nikkei Museum & Heritage Centre in Burnaby showcases the efforts of a group of former teachers who worked in Japan and who are now working to raise awareness and funds following the devastating disasters of March 2011. The former teachers participated in the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program and lived in towns, villages and cities across Japan working in public schools and city halls. Some of these places included areas that were struck by the disasters.

Megumi Johns, one of the event coordinators and a board member of the JET Alumni Association of BC lived and worked in Sendai. She says, “Japan, and especially Tohoku, hold a special place in my heart. We wanted to do something to show our support, and also to show the beauty, spirit and character of this special part of Japan.”

The photo exhibit opens January 14 and runs until the weekend of March 10, a day before the one year anniversary of the earthquake. The exhibit features photos from JET participants that highlight the natural and cultural beauty of Tohoku, while other photos capture the chaos following the disaster and the ongoing efforts to rebuild and restore the area. The exhibit also includes anecdotes from former JET participants who share their experiences and connections to their Japanese “home away from home.”

A silent auction event will be held Saturday, February 18, from 6-9pm at the Nikkei Centre to raise funds to support Japanese NGOs who are actively working in Tohoku. Thomas Law, another event coordinator and JETAABC board member explains, “This event will feature live performances, refreshments, and the chance to bid on some amazing items such as a ride-along on a police patrol, unique Japanese crafts and Japanese language classes. It’s going to be a lot of fun.”  Tickets to the silent auction are $10 and can be requested through tickets@jetaabc.ca.

Visit www.jetaabc.ca/changing-tides for more information.

To donate auction items please contact social@jetaabc.ca.

Changing Tides Photography Exhibition
presented by the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET)
Alumni Association of BC
January 14th to March 10th
National Nikkei Museum & Heritage Centre
6688 Southoaks Crescent, Burnaby

Changing Tides Silent Auction
presented by the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET)
Alumni Association of BC
Saturday February 18th, 6-9pm
National Nikkei Museum & Heritage Centre
Tickets $10 at tickets@jetaabc.ca
www.jetaabc.ca/changing-tides

In Hot Pepper, Air Conditioner and the Farewell Speech, a group of office temps plan a farewell party for a recently laid off colleague. Will a Motsu hot pot restaurant do? Someone is obviously tampering with the climate-control system and it’s getting out of hand. Should the police be notified? A coworker makes her farewell speech. What does it have to do with imaginary penguins and the death of a cicada?

Deadpan dialogue, layered with elaborate gestural vocabulary and brilliant choreography, sheds light on the subtext of professional office etiquette, water cooler gossip and Japanese corporate culture. Marked by distinct musical backdrops that include John Coltrane, Stereolab, and John Cage, each of the three scenes speak to the dark humour and despair of a generation that had been promised a brilliant future only to end up ensnared in fluorescent cubicles.

Hot Pepper, Air Conditioner and the Farewell Speech
chelfitsch (Tokyo, Japan)
Presented by the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival,
SFU Woodward’s and Centre A
January 26-28, 2012  8:00pm
Studio T, Goldcorp Centre for the Arts, 149 West Hastings Street.
Post-Show Reception and Conversation with Toshiki Okada, led by Makiko Hara.
Jan 26, 9:30pm at Centre A (2 West Hastings Street)
Post-Show Talkback
Jan 27, led by Kathleen Ritter

Stylishly idiosyncratic director Toshiki Okada is known for crafting sharp and visually vibrant works of theatre out of the most ordinary of interactions. Founded in 1997, his Tokyo-based company is called chelfitsch, a neologism that evokes a childish deformation of the English word “selfish.” A rising star on the international theatre scene, chelfitsch has presented shows in the major theatre festivals of Berlin, Vienna, Paris, Singapore and New York, returning to Vancouver after the 2009 PuSh Festival favourite Five Days in March.

“Strangely hypnotic… a three-part meditation on death, class, and listening for the sad poetry in the everyday… By creating a jarring juxtaposition between the physical score and the text, the forgettable is remembered, small details speak volumes.” Engine 28

In Japanese with English subtitles.

When Toshihiro Hamanaka came to Vancouver in the early nineties, with his wife and one-year-old daughter in tow, he only intended to stay for three years. Having trained and worked as a landscaper in Japan for thirteen years, he wanted to take the art of Japanese gardening overseas, curious as to how it would be received in Canada. Twenty years later, having sold his house in Japan and been accepted as a landed immigrant, he remains in Canada, running his own business, Toshi Landscaping Ltd.

In addition to his skills as a gardener, Toshihiro brought with him a love of kendo, the Japanese martial art based on traditional swordsmanship, or kenjutsu. He had taken up kendo in Japan while in middle school and had a deep appreciation for the discipline and life-long skills that come with the rigorous training and competition. When Tsuyoshi, his Canadian-born son, was in elementary school and looking for a sport to take up, Toshihiro suggested he try kendo, and he started training at the UBC Kendo Club. Not only did the young boy have initial success and decide to stick with it, his older sister Misato began training as well. Soon, all three were travelling to UBC to train together.

Three years ago, wanting to spend more time practicing kendo, the Tozenji Buddhist Temple, located near their home in Coquitlam, offered them the use of a training room. At first, the three trained on their own, but soon got requests from other kendokas to join them. In January 2010, they formalized under the name Tozenji Kendo Club and joined the Canadian Kendo Federation (CKF) and the British Columbia Kendo Federation (BCKF).

The Bulletin talked to Toshihiro Hamanaka and Tsuyoshi Hamanaka at the Tozenji Temple about their approach to kendo, with Tsuyoshi translating for his father. Misato was in Japan training as a member of the Canadian National Team at the time of the interview.

Interview: Toshihiro Hamanaka + Tsuyoshi Hamanaka

Hamanaka-sensei, were you trained as a teacher in Japan?
Toshihiro Hamanaka: I never trained to be an instructor but when I was practicing kendo back in Japan I was an assistant instructor in the dojo. My rank was high enough to teach but I never had my own dojo back in Japan.

Do you enjoy teaching kendo to young people?
TH: It’s challenging teaching kendo because you have to understand each student’s bad habits and be able to point them out. Also, kendo is a sport that you can’t really have fun in the beginning, unlike baseball or swimming. With kendo you first start off with foot-work—no bamboo sword, no gear. You just practice foot-work for the first few weeks or even a month. So it’s really boring for the beginners to start. I am always concerned about how I can make an environment that’s fun for the beginners even though what they’re doing is really boring. If I start letting them hold the bamboo stick too early then their foundation isn’t too solid and they won’t improve as much as they’re supposed to, so we cannot rush. In kendo the basics are really important. So it’s really hard to balance everything out.

You came to Canada with the intention of returning to Japan after three years—what made you decide to stay?
TH: When I first came my daughter was one year old and then my son was born here and they started growing and entered elementary school. I thought that education in Canada has some advantages, so for our family I thought it would be better for us to stay here. I applied to immigrate and was accepted.

How do you compare the Japanese and Canadian education systems?
TH: In Japanese education, everyone has to be same—the marks have to be average or higher. Students have to be good at everything like science, socials, everything. However in Canada they evaluate and value each individual’s strengths. For example, in Japan when they’re hiring people they will start picking out people based on the highest marks, say the top ten, but in Canada they say okay, we will start looking at people who have an average of 80 percent or higher, and they will start evaluating them based on their individual strengths and interests, not who has the higher marks.

Tsuyoshi: The example that my father always used with my sister and myself was an orthodontist. An orthodontist is judged based on the skill with his hands, but he always says, do you prefer going to the orthodontist who has good knowledge but who cannot even build a Lego robot? or an orthodontist who can build a really great Lego robot? Because he thinks that’s the difference between Japan and Canada’s education system. In Japan they will always take the person who has higher knowledge, even though their skills aren’t that good. But in Canada, they take people with more skills because they can get more knowledge later on. He really appreciates the Canadian school system because they value each individual’s strengths.

TH: Of course there’s good things and bad things about Japan and Canada!

Is there a connection between kendo and gardening?
TH: When a Japanese gardener makes a traditional garden it’s related to kendo because with both it’s really important to have a basic knowledge and to take a long time to train yourself and improve everything. It takes probably thirty years doing kendo to understand the true meaning of it. For people like my children who have done kendo for five or ten years, they can just do kendo based on their reflex—hitting the target as fast as they can. But kendo is known as a sport that you can continue even when you get old. People think that once you’re old you probably won’t be able to compete with the younger people but the interesting part of kendo is if you understand the true meaning of kendo and practice properly, then you can still compete with the young people and be at an equal level or even stronger than them. Stronger doesn’t mean coming first place in the tournament, but having a stronger spirit and having strong, solid kendo. Japanese gardening is also like that, because you cannot just look at a text book and look at the map and just make a garden. You have to understand each yard and what it needs. To know how to make a proper Japanese garden also takes twenty, thirty years of experience and knowledge. That’s my personal thought anyway, other people may not agree!

What is your philosophy of  kendo?
TH: Since kendo is considered a martial art it tends to become like, you have to win with power or you have to attack by being more aggressive or more violent in order to win the match. By doing that, you can probably win in the tournament or match right now, but in the future—five years later, ten years later—you won’t be able to win any more, you won’t be able to compete with other people. So our motto for Tozenji Kendo club is, don’t win with power, win with technique and skill.
Starting this year, we will probably have the new beginners start competing in tournaments. But we don’t want them to think too much about winning or losing the match—we want them to do proper kendo. Because even if you win the match, if you look really ugly, like being aggressive or pushy, then it doesn’t look very nice. But even if you lose, if you were fighting properly, then everyone will be satisfied.

Tsuyoshi: In Canada, there aren’t a lot of people doing kendo, so in Junior—15 years old and younger—boys and girls have to compete together. My sister, she’s really short. And when she was 13 years old she would have to compete with somebody 15 years old who’s a boy, and there’s no way that my sister can win against him with strength. So she didn’t win any matches for the first four years. But my dad kept telling her, don’t worry about losing or winning, just do proper kendo, and then eventually you will win more. Like she does now. When she was 15 years old, the last year of junior, she went to the finals in every tournament. And then once she became 16 years old and older, there’s a category just for women. The number of women competing in Canada is small, so even a girl who is 16 years old has to compete against someone who is in team Canada in the first round. But my sister still didn’t lose because she was doing proper kendo.
My father thinks that it probably takes five years for kendo to become fun. As the instructor he lets students hit him in practice. So say one of the student hits twenty times against him. If there are twenty kids, he can be hit 400 times during a practice. So he gets pretty bruised up. As an instructor, he is sacrificing himself to teach and let all the kids improve, so he’s always telling everyone to take each strike seriously and appreciate it. So that’s one of his policies. It’s really fortunate that everyone in this dojo is really supportive so we’re able to continue our club and have a really friendly environment.

What is the membership of Tozenji Kendo Club?
TH: We have about twenty members from eight years old to 50-something but the majority of the members are teenagers. Many of them are half Canadian, half Japanese.

Would you consider your father a traditional Japanese teacher?
Tsuyoshi: Probably not, I guess. Of course depending on the circumstance, he will put it in the instructor/student situation, but most of the time he’s trying to make it equal so everyone is really friendly and able to communicate more easily. Back when he was practicing in Japan, the instructor was really strict and the seniors in his school were also strict, like a typical Japanese club. And he was trying really hard like everyone else—he would be lying on the ground after each practice. But his question was, was he able to improve a lot? And he didn’t. If the students want him to make it really strict and hard then he can easily do it, because he experienced that and can do it himself. But he thinks the really important thing is to explain things to them verbally not physically. That is how he trained myself and my sister. So far, we’re continuing to improve and it’s really successful. Some clubs, in Canada and in Japan, the parents may think, that is a really Japanese style club, and they put their children in that club but the results may not be good after all. So he thinks that that’s not the best thing, and he himself thinks that he’s not a Japanese-style instructor.

So is this a philosophy he developed living in Canada, do you think?
Tsuyoshi: Even if he was still living in Japan he probably would have had the same thought. When he was in high school he really loved kendo so even after practicing in the high school club he was going to one of the town clubs at night to practice. The high school club was really strict and really harsh about training and practicing but the town club was really good at explaining stuff verbally and so on. So there are two types of instructors, even in Japan. And he thinks that he improved more from the town club.

What have you learned yourself from doing kendo?
Tsuyoshi: Since I was born here and I grew up here, I would have not had the knowledge about respecting elders and so on, compared to the Japanese people who grew up in Japan, so from doing kendo I was able to learn respect for my elders and so on. And also by doing kendo, I was able to become more confident in myself. Even for school speeches and so on, I was able to be confident and not be nervous in front of the public.

Is there a long term goal—ten or twenty years from now for Tozenji Kendo Club, or are you just taking it year by year?
TH: In kendo it’s really important to have a goal for the next practice, for the next month, one year, five years, ten years. It’s really important to have a goal individually and also as a club.

It must be really hard to operate a club, how do you manage it?
TH: We weren’t really intending to start our own club but some parents were really motivating us and they have been really supportive, so that’s how we were able to start and continue on till now. So we do really appreciate the families, and everyone else who supports us with fundraising and in other ways. We really love the situation right now and I believe everyone’s having fun.

Misato is on Team Canada?
TH: Yes. She’s in Japan right now training with the whole Canadian women’s team. Winning is really difficult. She’s still young so she’s still winning with her momentum, her spirit. I thinks that it’s really good experience for her to compete in the world championship.
A long term goal for Tozenji—do not win with the power, win with the skills—is related to the world championships. Right now our space is really limited, so we don’t want to expand our club, we want to keep it small, but have high-quality members. I think that everyone has a chance to try out to be part of Team Canada.

How do they assign rankings in  kendo?
Tsuyoshi: In kendo there are no belts, it’s just a rank that you get, a certificate. In western Canada they have a grading exam twice a year for three Dan and under and once a year for four Dan and up.

TH: One of the difficult parts of kendo is if you try to win in the tournament, then it’s really hard to get a higher rank. The judges doing the ranking are looking for you to do a proper, real true kendo, but in the tournament, as long as you hit the target you do get a point—but that’s not necessarily true kendo. In the tournament, if you get hit then you will lose, so you might end up bending your posture to dodge the attack and so on, which is not good for the true meaning of kendo. So if you get in the habit of bending your body or dodging, or attacking from the side, then in the grading exam you will fail.

So it’s not just that you hit but how you hit?
Tsuyoshi: How you hit, posture, spirit, and so on. So a really fun and interesting thing is that you can get a higher rank, even if you can’t win in the tournament. And some people can win the tournament but may not get the rank—but they still have fun winning in the match.

TH: The ideal is to do true kendo but still do well in tournaments, which is really hard.

www.tozenjikendoclub.com

Dr. Nishio fishing with Prime Minister John Diefenbaker on shores of Kathleen lake, Yukon in1958.

Retired dentist Norikazu Nishio was at home in Nanaimo when he got word that the University of British Columbia had agreed to award honourary degrees to UBC students who were forced to leave university and their studies in 1942.

Now 88, Dr. Nishio was eighteen and in his first year of studies at UBC when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. As one of several Japanese Nationals on campus, he was given twenty-four hours to leave not only the University but the west coast. In all, seventy-six students of Japanese descent were eventually affected, of whom the majority were Canadian citizens.

During the 1940-41 session, with the war heating up overseas, military training had become compulsory for all students, including Japanese Canadians, making them the only Japanese Canadians taking military training. This changed with the December 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. In her 1977 paper A University At War: Japanese Canadians at UBC During World War II, Elaine Bernard notes, “The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and Canada’s entry into the war against Japan occurred at the beginning of the Christmas break. There was no coverage of the declaration in the student press, which had shut down for the break. When Japanese Canadian students arrived back at school in January, they were asked to turn in their uniforms. The COTC (Canadian Officers’ Training Corps) daily orders for 7 January 1942 “Struck off Strength” (released from service) forty-three Japanese Canadians enrolled in the Basic Group and the six enrolled in the COTC Group. The decision to discharge the trainees was made by the university Senate’s Committee on Military Education, which was the body that had governed the training and military affairs on campus.”

As government plans to remove all Canadians of Japanese origin from the coast progressed, the rest of the students—including those born in Canada—were forced into exile. It wasn’t until the fall of 1948 that fifteen Japanese Canadians received permits to enrol at UBC again.

I spoke to Dr. Nishio by phone at his home in Nanaimo.

Dr. Nishio, what were your feelings when you heard the news that UBC had agreed to grant honourary degrees to former UBC students?
Wow – it’s been a long, long time. It’s just great—better late than never! I was in a slightly different category, though. I was attending UBC as a Japanese National, whereas most of the others were Canadian-born. So I was really considered the enemy and was given twenty-four hours to leave the 100-mile zone. My three siblings were all born here, but for some reason my mother decided that I should be born in Japan so I was born in Tokyo. We came back when I was a year old so I was basically raised as a Canadian but was considered Japanese because that’s where I was born.

Where did you live in Vancouver?
I was brought up in Kitsilano so as youngsters all our friends were English-speaking, apart from a few other Japanese Canadian families. I went to Lord Tennyson Elementary and then Kitsilano Junior and High Schools. Mum and dad had lots of Japanese friends who they would visit. Dad ran an import/export business on Granville Street, dealing in dry goods—dinnerware and tablecloths and those sorts of things. They took a huge hit when they confiscated everything. They had to start all over again when they moved east.

Where did they go during the war?
Most of my family relocated to the Bridge River self-supporting camp, then ended up in Montreal after the war. They eventually moved to Toronto. They brought in the Mikasa chinaware line for Canada and  did well with that. They only sold the business a while back.

And what about you?
Well, I was attending UBC in my first year of general studies—I was only 18, one of the youngest Japanese Canadian students. I got the news I had to leave, and the night I was packing, my mum and dad said, why don’t you go into dentistry? I was always good with my hands, I was pretty good at art—I thought I might be a commercial artist. So I went to Calgary, where we had family friends, then to Edmonton, where I stayed at the YMCA.

I took a year of courses at the University of Alberta by correspondence—I wrote my first year exams at Convocation hall—and then enrolled full time in the dentistry program. I worked every summer to help pay my way. I worked at the Swifts Packing Plant and spent one summer working at a chick hatchery. For some reason the Japanese were good at chick sexing. They were noted for their expertise.

Was there a different attitude towards Japanese Canadians in Alberta than on the coast?
There was a huge difference. In Vancouver there was a constant barrage of articles in the papers speaking out against the Japanese. There were some aldermen noted for stirring up anti-Japanese sentiment and the papers went along with it. I only remember one incident of discrimination in Alberta. I was working in a sign painting shop one summer. I was handy with show cards and things like that—I’d paint bank windows with gold leaf, wall signs, things like that. This one customer complained to the management about me working there, so they assigned me to a different area where of the shop where I was out of the public eye.

I’d say that most of the people who went to Alberta and out east felt more comfortable than on the coast. On the sugar beet farms, though, they had a  difficult time. As labourers, they were treated pretty badly. There are always people who will take advantage of those in a difficult situation.

What did you do once you got your dentistry degree?
I ran a practice in High Prairie in the Peace River area for five years, spent nine years in Whitehorse and then eventually relocated back to the coast, to Nanaimo.

It must have been pretty interesting living and working in the Yukon . . .
It was. And it led to some interesting experiences. I had just received my Canadian citizenship. I was a good fisherman and was asked to guide Prince Philip fly fishing and then John Diefenbaker, who was Prime Minister at the time. I took him three times.

That’s pretty cool! What were they like?
They were both excellent people. The Prince chatted as we fished—he was an excellent fisherman. Diefenbaker was a little unusual—he wasn’t as skilled but just as eager to catch a fish! I remember he was one of those people who talked without expecting any answers in return—it seemed like his mind was going a hundred miles an hour all the time. When I moved to Nanaimo, Diefenbaker was back in opposition and he looked me up—I took him steel-heading and salmon fishing. He was very, what would you call it—sympathetic—towards the Japanese. With both of them, especially the prince, there were lots of RCMP around. They were everywhere . . .

Why did you move back to the coast?
Well, I had married while in Whitehorse, and our son and daughter were born there too. I thought they’d have better educational opportunities on the west coast.

Your wife is not Japanese?
No—we were one of the first intermarried couples, I guess. She was an English teacher. But we never had any difficulties, and it wasn’t hard for the children either. One of them is now a medical doctor and the other is a chartered accountant. Once you’re accepted into a community, you don’t think about it anymore—you don’t think of yourself as Japanese, you’re just Canadian.

You don’t sound like your harbour any bitterness.
I don’t. I’ve always looked forward, rather than back. I’ve had a good life and I’m certainly not thinking of slowing down at all.  But you know, some of the others weren’t as fortunate, especially those who ended their university careers because of the war. It was life-shattering for some of them and it changed their life and their outlook on life.

I’m really happy that the University of British Columbia has decided to honour the former students and their families. Mary Kitagawa has worked so hard to achieve this. As long as my health allows it I intend to be there at the ceremony.

Having come up against a brick wall of indifference in the early days of her three-year campaign, it was surely vindicating to hear the news that powers-that-be had acknowledged the justness of her cause.

Given that the majority of the former students have since passed on, the victory was tinged with some sadness, given that they would not be able to enjoy the trip to the podium to receive their diplomas. Still, for their families, who will receive the diplomas in their names, it will carry a special meaning that will hopefully not be diminished by the passage of time.

The Bulletin spoke to Mary Kitagawa several weeks after the news was announced.

In Her Own Words: Mary Kitagawa
by John Endo Greenaway

This has been a long and I’m sure arduous battle for you Mary – what got your started on this quest to have UBC officially recognize the students who were forced to leave at the outbreak of the war in the Pacific?
I was surfing the net one day and saw an article that caught my eye. The article was about Japanese American students who were expelled from their campuses in 1942. It stated that the University of Washington had presented Honourary Degrees to all of their former students in person or posthumously. Later, I learned that all the American universities along the Pacific coast were doing the same thing. I began to research the situation at UBC but found no information. The first letter of inquiry I wrote to Dr. Stephen Toope, President and Vice Chancellor of UBC is dated May 22, 2008. That letter was forwarded to Dr. Sally Thorne, Chair of the Senate Tributes Committee. Thus began my crusade to convince the Committee of the importance of righting a wrong. Dr. Thorne insisted that UBC did not “expel” the students. She said that faculty and staff of Japanese heritage left for many reasons including forced relocation. This is when I realized that Dr. Thorne did not know our history. “No Asians were allowed into the professions in BC until 1949” therefore they could not have been on staff or faculty. In order to practice in the profession, you had to be on the voter’s list and the amendment to the British Columbia Elections Act of 1895 denied them the vote.

Dr. Thorne went on to say that UBC’s role within this issue is not directly comparable to the universities south of the boarder. She did admit that UBC should identify an appropriate tribute so that the lessons concerning the internment would not be forgotten. However, she said that granting honourary degrees to this small subset of people would not occur. Her reluctance to admit that UBC was culpable in ridding the campus of Canadians of Japanese heritage was the sticking point in our communication. I do not think that she was aware that 49 Japanese Canadian male students in the UBC Canadian Officers Training Corp were summarily dismissed one day after Pearl Harbor was bombed. The Military Committee of UBC that expelled them included the President L.S. Klink, Chancellor R.E. McKechnie, Dean J.N. Finlayson, Mr. B. Wood, Mr. Edward McBride, and Lt. Col. Gordon Shrum.

The students were told that UBC did not want any Japs on campus. The Dean of Women called a meeting of Nisei women to explain to them that the university would not assist them to remain in Vancouver and to continue their education. Only two members of the faculty spoke out for their Japanese Canadian students. They were Henry Angus and E.H. Morrow who helped his “boys” write exams and re-establish them in eastern Canada.

In the US, sympathetic administrators and faculty members protested loudly the inclusion of their students in President Roosevelt’s Executive Order 6099 that sent 120,000Japanese Americans to concentration camps. Faculty members were sent to the camps to help their students write their final exams and helped many to register at universities outside of the exclusion zone. The Japanese Canadian students at UBC felt abandoned and powerless to defend themselves. They left the campus questioning the injustice of their dismissal and the abandonment by the university that they loved. None were ever able to set foot again on the hallowed grounds of UBC.

So you initially met with resistance . . . when did that begin to change?
For about two years after I began my crusade, it was a lonely exercise. The UBC Senate Committee seemed determined to deny my request. There were long periods when I would not receive a reply. However, I kept sending them information about our history and to make them aware of the information about the American universities’ decision to grant honourary degrees. At one time I was told that the issue that we were discussing was to remain confidential. Their need for secrecy made me more determined to broadcast the information to others. On November 17, 2010, Shag Ando, David Iwaasa, Bryan Tsuyuki Tomlinson, and my husband Tosh joined me to form a committee to discuss how best to tackle this issue. Bryan was very helpful because he was on the UBC Senate as a student rep for his faculty and knew the inner workings of the Committee. By the time he joined our group, his time on the Senate had expired. I was very grateful for the suggestions given to me that were so influential on how we would progress on this issue.

What happened next?
The first and important issue was finding the former students. Shag Ando was able to find a list with names, faculty, home town, and the year that the students were in. This list was crucial in our effort to begin contacting the students or their relatives. I began by writing an article in the Nikkei Voice, April 2011 to alert our community about our quest. Information about some students began to trickle in. However, I felt that if the wider community knew about our story, then perhaps more people could be found. I contacted Patricia Graham, Editor-in-Chief of the Vancouver Sun whom I had met at a National Retreat for Women Conference in April of 2010 where I was one of the speakers. Patricia agreed to publish our story and had reporter Gerry Bellett write an article in the August 27, 2011 Vancouver Sun.         That one article spawned many requests for interviews from other newspapers and radio stations. The power of the media was on our side; our story was now nationwide. Mits Sumiya has become an articulate spokes person for his classmates of 1942. UBC’s student newspaper the Ubyssey wrote in favor of our quest in four issues. The November 21, 2011 issue has Mit’s photo covering most of the front page accompanying the article about our victory. Their editorial was damming of the university’s reluctance to grant honourary degrees to the 1941 Japanese Canadian students. The students at UBC are now alerted about the issue.

How did you first hear that UBC had agreed to grant honourary degrees? What was your feeling upon hearing the news?
I learned of the media release through an email that came from the President’s Office after their meeting. The relief I felt was immeasurable. My joy was evident on the CKNW radio interview the next day.

What now?
The focus now is to locate all of the students or their heirs before the spring convocation of 2012. We are hoping that through publicity generated by the media release, we will be getting additional leads to locate them. Mika Fukuma from the Nikkei Voice has been a great help in locating students, relatives of students and in publishing names of those who are not yet found.

Most of the remaining former students are now in their late 80s and 90s. I have talked to fifteen of them on the phone. It is so rewarding to hear their voices reflecting on the joy they felt in learning that they are now going to be granted Honourary degrees from UBC in May of 2012. Dr. Nori Nishio told me from Nanaimo that he did not phone me on the day he read the media release because he wanted to make sure that the information was real. He said, “I did not think that it would happen in my life time.”

Have you met with UBC since the decision was released?
Tosh and I went to meet with Christopher Eaton, UBC’s Associate Registrar & Director Senate & Curriculum Services on November 22, 2011. He gave us hope that all of what we asked for will be given: cap and gown, Honourary Bachelor’s degrees, bound diplomas with an appropriate Latin phrase, reception and others which he could not define at that time. The Senate Committee will be meeting in January 2012 to discuss the plans.

I must thank all the people who came on board to lobby and flood the President’s and the Senate Tributes Committee’s offices with letters of support. Dr. Kerry Jang, UBC professor and Vancouver city councilor began by lobbying the President. His help was timely and immeasurable. Other faculty members who were instrumental in this outcome were Dr. Henry Yu, Dr. William McMichael, and University of Victoria professor Dr. John Price. I am sure there were many others behind the scene at the university who helped. To them I owe a debt of gratitude. I must also thank Professor Emeritus Stuart Philpott of the University of Toronto, Department of Anthropology and Ken Noma of the NAJC for writing letters of support. Roy Miki and my sister, Rose Murakami have contributed so much in guiding me through the maze of definitions and ideas. Thank you also to the petition gathers and signers. I will use it as a backup when appropriate. The support of my colleagues on the GVJCCA Human Rights Committee was invaluable. They are Augustina Asantos, Judy Hanazawa, Tatsuo Kage, Lily Shinde, Lorene Oikawa, Morgan Elander and my husband, Tosh Kitagawa.

It all seemed to happen so quickly—from notices in the Nikkei press looking for former students and radio interviews in the mainstream media, to UBC agreeing to grant the degrees.
The three year journey to find justice for these worthy and forgotten students has been a trying but rewarding experience. I was determined to find justice for their sufferings however long it took to do it. Although UBC needed a lot of prodding, they made the right decision. To refuse our quest would have reflected negatively on what they claim to stand for: justice and human rights. In May of 2012, let us all celebrate with the students by attending the convocation on campus to help validate their victory. They have patiently waited for seventy years to join the alumni that once betrayed them. Let us dedicate the coming commencement day as a “Day of Remembrance” for those students who have left us without having the opportunity to celebrate with their 1942 UBC colleagues.

We are asking those former UBC students or relatives of those who have passed away to contact us by email at heiwa@telus.net or by phone at 604-943-3195. Give us your names and contact numbers so that we could phone you to get your history. You deserve to be honoured, however late. We will continue our effort on your behalf to see that you receive your special honorary degree, resplendent in your cap and gown.

Asato Ikeda, co-curator of Inuit Prints: Japanese Inspiration, is a PhD Candidate at UBC studying Japanese modern art history. I spoke with Asato by e-mail following her talk at the Japanese Canadian National Museum.

You were born in Japan—tell me a little about your family and how you ended up in Canada . . .
I was born and brought up in Togoshi Ginza, a little commercial district, in Tokyo. I lived with my parents, two younger sisters, and two dogs there. I long wanted to study abroad, but studied first at Temple University Japan, which is a Japan campus of Temple University (Philadelphia). After studying a year and half there, I transferred to the University of Victoria to get my BA, and then went to Carleton University for my MA. A better social welfare system, cheaper tuition, and gun-less society made me go to Canada, not the US.

Your dissertation is about Japanese paintings during the Fifteen-Year War and the concept of Japanese fascism. You’re also co-editing an anthology on war art in Japan and its Empire. Where did your interest in this field come from?
My grandfather is almost obsessed with the history of World War II. He took me to places like Yasukuni Shrine and Kamikaze museum in Kagoshima. It wasn’t until I went to a high school called Tokyo Metropolitan Kokusai High School, where I made many zainichi-Korean friends, that I became interested in an alternative history about Japan and the war. I wanted to know more about Japan’s experience as a victimizer not just as a victim (of atomic bombs, for example).

Although much of your work has centred around Japanese wartime art, for this exhibit you turned your focus to the impact that Japanese print-making had on Inuit art. How did this side-project come about?
This project actually came about between the other two curators, my MA supervisor Ming Tiampo (Associate Professor at Carleton University) and Norman Vorano (curator of contemporary Inuit art at the Canadian Museum of Civilization). They invited me to the project and gave me the precious experience of developing an exhibition from scratch. I learned a great deal through this project.

You’ve studied Japanese (and Inuit) art extensively – do you make art yourself?
Not really, but I used to practice calligraphy.

I found your talk at the Nikkei Centre fascinating, and surprising. Like many others, I assumed that Inuit print-making was an indigenous tradition that went back for many years. Was there anything that surprised you as you put together this exhibition?
I had no idea that there was a connection between Inuit and Japanese prints. This is not about the content of the exhibition per se, but the other thing is what Norman Vorano does in the exhibition catalogue essay: that, with a considerable amount of research, an art historian can trace and reconstruct somebody else’s trip that took place more than sixty years ago. That was pretty surprising.

The print-making techniques that James Houston brought back from Japan clearly had a major impact on Inuit printmaking in-as-far as they had much better control of their reproductions. What about stylistically and aesthetically? Did the exposure to the Japanese prints themselves have an impact on the art that the Inuit began creating?
In addition to the technical aspect of print making, the Inuit prints were very much influenced by Japanese prints stylistically and aesthetically. The exclusive use of black and white, for example, was learned from Hiratsuka Un’ichi, Houston’s teacher. The Inuit artists also learned expressive, rather than naturalistic, use of colour application from Japanese prints. I must say however that Inuit and Japanese traditional art share many things in common to begin with, such as abstraction and two-dimensionality, which might have made it easier for the Inuit artists to learn from Japanese prints. In addition to what Houston learned in Japan, the Inuit artists had access to prints by such artists as Okamura Kichiemon and Munakata Shiko, which Houston brought to Cape Dorset. They learned from these prints too.

It’s interesting that the bridge between the Inuit and the Japanese was a Canadian artist with a connection to neither culture. How is he regarded in the far north?
Houston is THE most important figure when it comes to Inuit art, and as such he is regarded highly in the far north. As you say, it is interesting that James Houston didn’t have either cultural background, but given that abstract, expressive qualities of both Inuit and Japanese art fit the aesthetic taste of Western modernism, it isn’t too surprising that he was interested in non-Western art. Also, Japanese culture, including tea ceremony, flower arrangement, ceramics, and especially Zen Buddhism, was huge in North America in the 1950s and 1960s.

How was the exhibit received in Japan? Like here in Canada, I don’t imagine that many people knew of the connection between the two cultures.
I am sure that the link between Japanese and Inuit prints came as a surprise to many people.  Although the exhibition took place at a rather “unusual” place (it was shown at the Canadian Embassy of Japan), it was well received. The two Inuit artists who came to Japan received some media attention, especially when they visited washi makers in Kochi, Shikoku.

You travelled to Japan with two Inuit artists – what was that experience like for you? What did the two artists think of Japan?
I enjoyed the experience very much. It was my first time meeting Inuit people. Norman, Ming, and I took them to skyscrapers in Shinjuku, had wonderful tofu lunch, and did shopping at Tokyu Hands. The artists, Qiatsuq Niviaqsi and Cee Pootoogook, repeatedly commented that Japanese and Inuit people look alike so much that they feel at home. The artists were shy and quiet at first, but became talkative toward the end of their stay. That sort of behaviour made me also think that Inuit and Japanese people might be similar, though I don’t mean to generalize.

Where has this exhibit been shown and are there plans to tour it elsewhere?
The exhibition started in the Canadian Embassy of Japan at the beginning of this year in Tokyo, and was already shown at the Museum of Anthropology at UBC this summer. I am not sure where exactly this would go next, but I truly hope that this exhibition will go to many venues as possible, not only in Japan and Canada, but also in other countries.

You’re graduating next year – what are your plans once you’ve left school?
This is a very good question. I am currently working on applying to job and postdoctoral positions. Hopefully, I will be working at university or museum next year. I would very much like to stay in Canada, Vancouver in particular, but that doesn’t seem like a possibility. But who knows, I might end up doing something else in order to stay in this city!

A talk with Beth Carter, Director/Curator of the JCNM, reveals the fascinating story of the impact of Japanese print-making on Inuit artists in the late fifties and early sixties. The 1950s was a time of great transition and upheaval for the Inuit. People were moving away from subsistence life in camps, where they hunted for food and also trapped furs. Many moved into permanent communities, where they had access to schools, supplies and medical services. Given the lack of ready-made jobs in the far north, crafts and art production became an important source of income for many Inuit – and so the government set up workshops and provided staff to assist with training.

Canadian artist James Houston was assigned to work in Cape Dorset, on southern Baffin Island, where they started with stone and ivory sculpture, some basketry, and sewn handicrafts. Houston and the local artists were also experimenting with graphic arts and printmaking. However, Houston had very little training in printmaking techniques, and realized he needed to improve his skills.

Japanese ukiyo-e (wood-block printmaking) had long been a source of inspiration for contemporary artists in Europe and around the world. Houston was also impressed with the success and accomplishments of Japanese printmakers in the international art circuit in the post-war period.

Using his holiday time in the fall of 1958, Houston travelled to Japan to study printmaking with renowned artist Un’ichi Hiratsuka. He also was introduced to many other influential artists, experimented with the use of washi paper, and witnessed Japan’s flourishing mingei (folk arts) movement. Upon his return to the Arctic, Houston shared his knowledge — and his collection of Japanese prints — with the fledgling printmakers of Cape Dorset. The Inuit artists were greatly inspired, and the results are plain for all to see – a rich new tradition of print-making that have been woven into the cultural identity of Canada. The current exhibit includes many of these rare and exquisite prints, and shares the remarkable story of these artistic encounters and their extraordinary results.

The exhibit continues at the JCNM until December 3rd and is on loan from the Canadian Museum of Civilization in Gatineau, Quebec. Inuit Prints and was curated by Dr. Norman Vorano, the Curator of Contemporary Inuit Art. He was assisted by Asato Ikeda, a PhD candidate in Art History at UBC, Dr. Ming Tiampo, Associate Professor of Art History at Carleton University in Ottawa and Kananginak Pootoogook, one of Cape Dorset’s most senior and respected artists. The exhibit is accompanied by a beautiful publication, which is available in the JCNM shop.

Arctic Experiences
On the 2nd Level of the Centre another connection between Inuit and Japanese art is revealed in a complementary exhibit of artwork by Taiga Chiba. Taiga, a Japanese-born artist who has lived and worked on and off in Vancouver for many years, shares his experiences and the art he produced while teaching in Nunavut in 1995, 1996 and 2010.

The JCNM thanks the Deux Mille Foundation for their generous support.